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Daniel Molloy had never been a man that enjoyed another person’s head below the belt - man or woman. He had never enjoyed the feeling of teeth at his thighs, fingertips pressing hard into thighs and leaving crescent marks. Had always been too self conscious.
He had tried. He’d tried really hard, but he hated it all. He hated the dysphoria that it brought him. Daniel had spent so long trying to get people to treat him the way he felt he should be treated, to look like the man he was - trying to ignore what was between his legs as much as he possibly could - that the feeling of someone exploring him so intimately scared him to the bone.
That was before he met Armand.
Armand made Daniel feel more like a man than anyone he’d ever met, in and out of bed, he made Daniel feel firm and loved and appreciated. It was still a few years into their dalliance that Daniel allowed Armand to go down on him.
It was a random Tuesday in mid-November, 1981. They were in a hotel in the middle of Lyon when Daniel said yes. Armand had, like he had so many times prior, started to kiss down Daniel’s chest and stomach. He reached his belt, Daniel’s rough hands in his hair, and he tilted his head to look at Daniel. Daniel wasn’t sure whether it was the wine they had with dinner; the moonlight twinkling in Armand’s wide amber eyes; or the fact that he felt truly secure for the first time in a very long time - but Daniel said yes when Armand said a quiet only half-serious “Please?”
Armand’s eyes almost burst out of his head as he pulled away from Daniel. “Really?”
Daniel sat up a little, resting on his elbows, “Yeah.” he breathed out.
“Daniel, honestly?” Armand was looking at him with an expression Daniel could only equate to hunger.
“Yes.” Armand dove back to Daniel, cupping his face with both hands and kissing him intently. Armand moaned into the kiss, letting out small noises that he never had before. Daniel himself could feel his blood rushing south, could feel himself swelling with each peck and nip and swipe of Armand’s tongue against his lip. Every now and then, Daniel would feel a particularly sharp nip, and knew that Armand allowed his fangs to drop just so he could taste Daniel. It made Daniel feel feral.
He was just about to reach down to Armand’s own swollen lower-half, was just about to pull Armand’s slacks down and flip them over, ride him into oblivion, when Armand began to move again. It was there, in that hotel room in Lyon that Daniel Molloy believed he saw God for the first time, only it wasn’t an old man with a white beard in a shining robe, it was a five hundred year old vampire naked between his thighs.
From that night onwards, Armand would take any opportunity given to to eat Daniel out. He would hold Daniel close, mouth at his inner thighs, leave small puncture marks alongside the crescent nail marks, and make Daniel Molloy cum until he saw stars. Sometimes he would bury himself in Daniel afterwards and bring them both over the edge once more, sometimes he would hold Daniel, sometimes he would simply carry on until Daniel pushed him away from his aching self.
Daniel was like a new man.
It wasn’t until the following July that Armand made a discovery about Daniel.
The heat of Europe in the year of 1982 was awful. The lack of air conditioning in the old buildings around the continent made Daniel uncomfortable, making him beg for the dark gift more than ever before - just so he wouldn’t be affected by the heat. The uncomfortable feeling the heat brought had only worsened at dinner, when Daniel felt the distinctive leak of his period starting. He decided to ignore it when Armand suggested a late-night stroll along the Budapest stretch of the Danube River, deciding he would just shove some toilet roll in his underwear, shower when they got back to the hotel and then utilise the emergency pads he had brought just in case.
The pair had just reached the river bank and were walking hand-in-hand in the summer breeze, safe in the dark of night, Daniel chattering to Armand about an article he was planning in his mind when Armand stopped in his tracks. Daniel didn’t really notice until his arm was stretched backwards and he almost fell to the floor, he turned to look at Armand with a puzzled expression. Armand was staring back at Daniel with such intensity that Daniel was scared someone was in some sort of trouble, calling to Armand in the vampiric void. (This had happened before, and Daniel didn’t want to have to cut this trip short because of it.) He stepped towards Armand, who took a step back in turn. “Beloved, are you hurt?”
Daniel’s eyebrows knitted together, “No-” Daniel swallowed and looked down at his stomach, just in case they had both missed someone stabbing him, “No, I’m not hurt. What’s wrong?” Armand came closer to Daniel now, holding his face within two cold hands - he hadn’t fed in a while - and swallowed visibly. “Daniel, you are bleeding.”
Daniel realised then what was happening. Armand could smell him.
That night, even after Daniel’s shower, Armand would go nowhere near Daniel. It seemed like he was scared of Daniel, of touching him in fear of hurting him. It took four hours of pleading just for Armand to crawl into bed with Daniel and lay with him until he fell asleep, clutching his aching stomach. It was the first period Daniel had in Armand’s presence, his and Armand’s work seemingly having kept them separate when Mother Nature arrived previously. It was also the worst Daniel had had in a good while, his testosterone making them sporadic and painful. This Armand-crafted distance continued on until Daniel’s period had finished six days later.
It wasn’t until that December, five months later, that it happened for the first time. Armand was in the midst of wandering hands and kisses, fangs pressing into meaty thighs. He nipped and sucked and licked at Daniel’s thighs, savouring the tang and intoxicating sweetness of Daniel’s blood. Armand felt drunk with the taste of it - warming him from the inside out. He moved onto Daniel’s core, feeling the heat of him against his tongue and the shivers running through Daniel. He made Daniel cum once, twice, with practised ease, and carried on. He pushed Daniel’s thighs further and further apart, his strong hands now resting on soft calves that had shifted from laying across Armand’s shoulders to boxing him in against the mattress.
Daniel was about to come undone for a third time when Armand stopped. When Daniel came out of his haze enough to lift his head off the pillows, he peered down at Armand who was still between Daniel’s legs. “Wha-?” Armand lifted his own head at the sound of Daniel’s voice, and Daniel gasped at the sight. Armand’s hair was a mess, loose curls falling around his face and sticking up in different directions. His eyes were wide, pupils blown so big that his orange eyes were almost entirely black, and from his nose down his face was red.
Daniel had always liked Armand in red, liked how it complimented his darker skin, but this was different. Armand’s lips were parted and he was breathing heavily. The man looked feral, in a way that Daniel had never seen before, and Daniel swallowed between his own heavy breaths. “What the fuck?”
Armand went back to Daniel’s centre, licking a thick stripe up his middle, Daniel yanked his hair harshly to pull Armand away from him. “No, Armand.” He looked up at Daniel with pleading eyes.
“Dear,” he brought his hand to Daniel’s hole and pressed in gently, retracting his hand again and creating a loving rhythm. “This blood is different.”
Daniel gasped out a laugh, grabbing Armand’s wrist to stop him. He pulled Armand away, closing his legs and making him pout. “Yeah, I’ve started my period.” Armand sat up, resting on his knees, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Daniel began to move, on shaking legs, to their ensuite to clean himself.
The pair didn’t speak of that night again. They both moved past it, and a week after the period ended Daniel had forgotten all about it. Armand, on the other hand, had not.
He had tasted Daniel’s blood before, of course, and he had always known that Daniel got periods - had always known men that got them, the way Daniel was wasn’t new. It hadn’t completely shocked Armand when Daniel got his period that night in Budapest, he knew it would happen eventually, but what had shocked him was the smell of it. He had never been so taken aback by the smell of blood before, of any kind, as he had been that night. The scent of Daniel menstruating was overwhelming, like a force invading his senses, and Armand hadn’t known what to do. He hadn’t known what to say to Daniel other than ‘I want to eat you, in any way you’ll let me’, and so he had said nothing. He had avoided looking at Daniel, scared the urge to taste that blood would grow too strong if he did.
Then, the incident the other night. Daniel didn’t know that his period was coming, but Armand had had an inkling. Of course, if he had thought that his period would arrive in the fashion it did Armand would not have gone down on him. He was still too scared, too terrified to harm his beloved boy, to do that. It took everything in his ancient self to stop himself when he did. He allowed himself a minute or two of pleasure before he realised he had to stop, he knew sucking and licking Daniel when he was bleeding in that way would probably have made his boy uncomfortable. But the taste of Daniel was indescribable.
Armand, old as he was, could not remember the taste of food. He knew, of course, that fruit was mainly sweet, that grains were savoury and filling, but when he was a human it was a very different time. He would look at the snacks and confectionery in cafe windows in Paris, Milan, Warsaw, and wonder what they tasted like. He would wonder what the piping and sugar and biscuits would taste like to him back when he was a teenager. He would say, now, that Daniel’s blood probably tasted the same. Like cakes and biscuits the finest patisserie chefs would create.
A couple months later, Armand asked Daniel outright if he could eat him out in his period. He smelt the blood as soon as it started, like a dark treacle with something heady behind it, he looked up from his iPad and stared at Daniel with wide eyes over the kitchen island. “What’s wrong?” Daniel asked, concern creeping into his voice. Armand said nothing, next to Daniel on the other side of the island within a second. He took the knife from Daniel’s hand that he was using to cut up carrots for his lunch, setting it on the counter behind the pair.
Armand swiped the knife, carrots, chopping board, plate - everything - about a metre to the right of them and lifted Daniel onto the counter by his hips. Daniel let out a yelp of surprise, his hands coming to rest on Armand’s shoulder. “Armand, what’s wrong?”
“Beloved, I want to talk to you about something.” And that’s how the conversation began. It lasted almost an hour, a couple minutes bitten into the time with Daniel going to the bathroom to put a tampon in, and Daniel resisted at first. Armand respected his resistance, understanding the pull that Daniel felt to be disgusted by the request. Armand explained his wants behind it and Daniel listened - just like the pair had done with bindings, whippings, boot licking - he and Daniel talked for the full hour, sitting there on their kitchen counter surrounded by the remnants of an uneaten lunch.
The two decided they would wait a few days - both so Daniel could truly consider it and gain the confidence he needed, and so Armand could attempt to satiate his sudden hunger. And so Armand hunted that week like he never had before, he didn’t chase anyone he just killed. He travelled further afield than he usually did, paid out more money than normal, ate more than he probably had in centuries, and waited. Armand waited for Daniel to say okay, to give him the signal that he could do what he longed to do.
On day three of Daniel’s period, when the blood was lighter in colour and heavier in flow, Daniel came sauntering into Armand’s office. Armand was on the phone to a potential buyer, speaking in a language that Daniel didn’t fully recognise but sounded honey-sweet spilling from Armand’s mouth. He stood in the doorway as Armand glanced up and concluded his call. Daniel walked to Armand’s desk, sitting in the chair opposite Armand. He crossed his legs as Armand uncrossed his own, folded his hands in his lap as Armand placed his on the desk, and began to speak as Armand silenced himself.
“I want you to do it.” Daniel took a breath as Armand leaned forwards, “But I need to know if this is a weird vampire thing, or if you want to do it because it’s me.” Daniel looked at his hands, suddenly feeling self conscious. He hoped this could be something that Armand hadn’t done dozens or hundreds of times before, selfishly wanting this one thing to be just his and Armand’s alone.
“This isn’t a weird vampire thing, beloved.” He quoted Daniel’s words back to himself, and Daniel rolled his eyes. Armand moved gracefully round the desk to Daniel, kneeling in front of him. “I have never, in all my many years on this earth, done this before.” He moved Daniel’s head up with a hand under his chin, forcing him to make eye contact. “In all the cities and people of my past, I have never felt this urge before, not until you. Like so many things, Daniel Molloy, you are the only person I wish to do this with.”
Daniel swallowed and smiled slightly to himself, nodding. “Okay.”
Armand rose gracefully and moved around the desk to Daniel silently, kneeling before him. He kissed Daniel carefully and gently, calming the nerves of the young man, ceasing the shaking feeling in his chest. They stayed like that for a while, Armand’s forever-young knees not tiring and Daniel’s craned neck not aching, whispering sweet nothings to each other and reassuring one another. Eventually, the kissing turned heated. Blood was rushing south on both men and Daniel spurred them on. He gripped Armand’s shoulders, pulling him ever closer, hands drifting onto either side of his neck. He squeezed with his palms, one of the only ways he could make Armand feel in danger, and one of the vague ways he could gain some control. Armand’s mouth forged a path south, his head twisting and lips landing on Daniel’s Adam’s Apple, he nipped the skin there with blunt teeth and Daniel whined in disdain. He wished for the sharp sting of pointed K9’s into his throat, wanted Armand to rip him apart with his teeth and keep the parts of him to use.
Daniel wanted to see his own blood flowing out of him, fast and red and angry.
Armand travelled back up, one hand suddenly at the back of Daniel’s head and yanking it back roughly by his hair. Daniel winced, breaking their fervent kisses. He locked eyes with Armand, still kneeling in front of him, having to look down on him slightly due to their position. “Daniel,” Aramnd’s gaze slipped from Daniel down to Daniel’s sweatpants, and Daniel nodded. “Can I?” Daniel shifted in his seat as much as he could with Armand’s strong hand still buried in his curls, and studied Armand’s downturned face for a second.
“Of course.” Daniel whispered. Armand looked back up at Daniel quickly, his hand slipping from Daniel’s hair. His hand landed on Daniel’s shoulder, moved down to rest at his chest and pushed him back to sit further in the deep chair at Armand’s desk.
“Sit back.” Daniel’s eyebrows met his hairline. “Here?” Armand’s office was his safe space, sacred as Daniel had once called it. He very rarely had the door open for Daniel to walk in, always on the phone, always connecting and talking to other people in languages Daniel didn’t understand. In fairness, Daniel rarely had a need, nor a want, to come into Armand’s office.
“Yes, dear.” Armand replied, noting the apprehension in Daniel’s voice. “Here.” Armand had moved his hands once again, quick as The Flash, to be at Daniel’s hips. His hot fingers were teasing the waistband of Daniel’s sweatpants, pulling the elastic slightly. Daniel felt a flare of hope in his chest - though he wasn’t sure if it was hope that Armand would lift him to take them off him, or simply tear through the dark grey fabric with sharp talons.
The latter happened and Daniel wondered, when he felt Armand’s fingers once more, when he had fed in order to feel so warm. His pants tore down the seams from the waist where Armand grabbed them, nails ripping through the thick fabric and elastic like it was sugar paper, tearing the stitches like they were nothing. Daniel gasped out Armand’s name, hearing the rasp in his own voice. Armand tore his gaze from Daniel’s ruined pants, now hanging by the cuffs at his ankles, to look at Daniel. “I’ll buy you another pair.”
Armand looked hungry, a wild look in his eyes that made Daniel surge forward and kiss him. When he pulled away, after a good few minutes, Armand made a guttural noise that Daniel had never heard before. It seemed to come from somewhere deep down, a growl that made Daniel shiver and whimper. Armand rested his forehead against Daniel’s own, breathing unnecessarily into Daniel’s face, licking his lips before he spoke. “I need you, beloved, more than I ever have.” Daniel kissed him quickly.
“You have me.” Daniel cradled his face. “Always.” And with that, Armand surged downwards.
His path began at Daniel’s navel, Armand having rocked back on his knees to press his shins to the soft carpeting of the office floor. He pressed feather-light kisses to his stomach, so faint and fast that Daniel didn’t think he would have registered them if he wasn’t staring a hole into Armand’s ebony curls. His hands came to rest on Daniel’s hips as he reached the top of his boxer shorts, and Armand broke his gaze from Daniel’s lower half to look back up to his face. “Are you sure?”
“Armand.” Daniel replied, throwing his head back to rest on the back of the chair in frustration. Armand laughed breathily in reply, a quick breath that hit Daniel just above his clit and made him wiggle. Armand took the opportunity to pull down his underwear, black boxers that were probably too expensive for what they are, using the wiggle of Daniel’s hips to pull them down his backside. Daniel had never been a person to wear tampons - he didn’t like the feeling of shoving dry cotton into himself, and the thought of pulling it back out was even worse. He felt more comfortable, felt more like he could be himself, and he didn’t like the thought of near-constant anxiety of toxic shock. Which is why, when Armand pulled his boxers away, he was truly bare. He could feel the dark blood at his core, slick and damp. Armand gasped, and Daniel saw when the scent of his blood hit the vampire’s nostrils - his back straightened; his eyes darkened and his lids went heavy; he shuddered.
He flicked his eyes up to Daniel quickly, almost like a last check for permission, and Daniel just stared back. Armand broke eye contact first, and dove in.
The first stripe of his tongue brought a moan out of them both, the elder maybe slightly louder, and a smile from Armand. Daniel’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, dull nails digging in. The second stripe made a shudder tear through Daniel, and the third and fourth and fifth. Armand was relentless. His tongue circling and darting, rhythmic the whole while, pausing every so often at Daniel’s hole to lap at the arousal and blood collecting there.
Daniel could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, his hand now tightly wound into Armand’s hair. Armand brought his hand up, and Daniel heard more than felt the action. He heard the woosh of air as his hand was brought to Daniel’s thigh, heard the scratch of nails on hair and skin as he tightened his hand, heard the squelch of tearing skin as Armand dug those deliciously sharp talons into the meat of his leg. Heard himself scream out as he was pushed over the edge into orgasm by the sudden pain.
He pulled at Armand’s hair, not pulling him away but curling into him instead. His thighs tightened around Armand’s head and his back rose off the chair, arching toward Armand. Armand, who Daniel could feel was smiling against him, moved his unattached hand to his knee and pulled his leg from around Armand’s head.
He now had more access to Daniel once more and began licking and sucking again in fervour. Soon enough, Daniel was on the precipice of orgasm again and being pushed further and further toward being flung off it again. Armand drew his nails from his skin, placing his hand on Daniel’s chest and leaving a perfect dark red hand print there. Daniel looked down at it, wondering how much it would cost for it to be tattooed. A piece of Armand permanently inked under his skin.
The weight of Armand at his core - his face pushing further and further into him, like he was trying to swallow Daniel whole - and the hand still resting on his chest were pushing Daniel closer to orgasm again. Suddenly, Armand pulled his hand away from him and placed it on Daniel’s throat. Daniel had once seen Armand with his hands around another man’s throat, in a very different situation to the one they were in now, and had seen the way Armand had to restrain himself from tearing the skin; from causing blood to spill; from ripping out his trachea. He saw the way Armand’s veins popped from his arm and the tight set of his jaw. He didn’t want to hurt the man, much like Daniel knew he didn’t want to hurt him now, but the threat of it was like an undercurrent. The threat of harm was there in the way Armand’s thumb was gently grazing his larynx and the way his fingers were twisting into his skin - digging just deep enough not to pierce his skin. Armand squeezed, and he let out a whimper that caused Armand to laugh throughout Daniel’s head. His nails dug into his skin and Daniel felt the blood begin to flow anew as he orgasmed once more.
He felt the blood collect in his collarbones just as his vision went black and his breathing picked up. He felt Armand pull away from his throat as he pulled away from between his legs. He felt Armand's hands at either side of him and his mouth connect to his neck, his lips coming to drink from Daniel. He felt Armand’s slick hand encompass his neck again as he moved his head to lap at the blood pooled in Daniel’s collar, and realised that Armand was healing his wounds with his blood as the hand moved to Daniel’s thigh.
When Daniel opened his eyes, his breathing slowed to near normal. His beloved Armand, who normally looked like a respectable young man, now looked entirely the picture of the Fierce Vampire Armand. He sat against the desk on the floor, about two feet from Daniel’s feet, his chest still heaving. His hair was mussed and stuck out in different directions, his shirt now open and flapping against his legs as he moved (Daniel wondered when that had happened, and upon closer inspection where the buttons were), his head was resting in his blood covered hands and he turned his head to look at Daniel.
Daniel gasped. Armand’s face was covered in blood. Dark blood, two or three shades darker than normal, coated almost his entire face like a mask - an even coating from the bridge of his nose and up, but more concentrated from the tip of his nose and down. Armand smiled and was knelt in front of Daniel in a second, hands on either side of his face and kissing him. When they broke apart, amber eyes were trained on Daniel’s.
“Are you okay?” Daniel just nodded in response, not quite trusting his voice not to break. “Was that good for you?” Daniel stared back at Armand like he had grown another head, Armand laughed. A full laugh, not one inside Daniel’s head this time.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, both still catching their breath, until Daniel broke the silence. “I need to shower.” He could feel the cum and blood drying across his body, sticking to his hair and skin. Armand agreed to help him stand and shower, and when Daniel stood up with Armand’s help he glanced back down at the chair he had been sitting on.
The fabric of the chair, once a light green sage colour, was now tainted with shades of deep red and black. The mahogany of the arms laced with red handprints, slowly seeping into the wood. Daniel knew no amount of cleaning would get rid of either stains, and guilt suddenly flooded into his system. Armand looked at him. “Beloved-”
“The chair’s ruined, Armand.” He looked dismayed at Daniel’s words, and Daniel knew he could feel the guilt in his head.
“It was worth it.” Armand heaved a sigh he didn’t need, and guided Daniel out of his office and across the hallway to the bathroom. “Besides, I can buy another.”