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Louis’s existence hangs over their relationship like an extraordinarily dreary storm cloud.
He’s… somewhere out there, Daniel knows that much. They speak semi-regularly, when Armand is out and Louis remembers he exists, but they haven’t seen each other face-to-face since he’d left Dubai. He hasn’t told Armand about their chats, but Daniel finds it difficult to muster up any guilt over that fact. Burnt bridges and all that. And it’s not like his maker isn’t loath to share some things with Daniel even now, so sue him for keeping a few secrets of his own.
Louis took Lestat back, he gleans- possibly, maybe, if he squints and makes a few generous allowances and takes a few logical long-jumps. They’re at least hooking up, he extrapolates, but for once Louis seems to be learning from his mistakes and spending a decent stretch of time quasi-single. Possibly; again, if he squints. And with Lestat matching his self-destructive energy, contacting Daniel of his own volition- whether he’d read the book or gotten word from the vampire’s mouth, he has no idea- to do a documentary about his Icarus-esque rock tour, Daniel suppose they’ve worked out their issues.
For now, at least.
We’ve balanced the scales. Louis says, when he asks, refusing to elaborate any further. Daniel supposes he’ll get the full story whenever Lestat gets around to properly scheduling their interviews. Maybe. He’s not been led to believe that Lestat is any more reliable of a narrator than Louis.
Which brings him to the problem he’s facing; how to break it to Armand that he’s interviewing his ex-obsession, ex-husband’s ex-lover turned ex-husband’s current lover- his current obsession, even, if Daniel wants to really poke that bear. He could just up and disappear for a while, he supposes, but running from a predator is a tried-and-true way to get them to give chase. Daniel doesn’t feel guilty about it, per se- it’s more like guilt’s cousin three-times-removed squirms inside his belly with ever-worsening vigor as the days crawl by.
Daniel’s a procrastinator at heart. After a while he can hardly bear to speak to Louis at all, because it makes him all twitchy and he can’t really look Armand in the eyes afterward- which Armand definitely notices, and asks about, and refuses to accept any of Daniel’s half-baked excuses for. It is only when Armand sets up shop in his apartment, with his blood-red laptop and meticulously organized mountain of physical files, refusing to leave until Daniel reveals what has been bothering him, that he decides enough is enough.
It’s late on a Monday. Armand hadn’t left the apartment since the previous Thursday. Daniel would normally love having him this close all the time, really, he would, but if he were still human, he would have stroked out from the stress by now. Armand is click-clacking away, preternaturally silent and still, looking for all the world as if he is ignoring Daniel’s presence. Daniel’s response has been, so far, to give that energy back. Twiddling his thumbs, writing pages on pages of half-incoherent rambling with heavy fingers, watching Jeopardy at half-volume so his neighbors don’t get pissed, but Armand does.
That is the hope, at least, but the results aren’t very inspiring. Again; different tactics are needed.
Now, he could build it up, ease Armand into it- Daniel considers delivering the news after sucking him off, in that post-orgasmic fog where it’s near impossible to be upset by anything at all- but that’s not really his style. And Armand would probably see through it anyway, because it’s just Daniel’s luck that he found someone who understood him too well to be taken in by his bullshit. No, that wouldn’t work, so he settles for standing in front of his maker like a kid about to tell his mom he’s got to stay home sick.
“I’m interviewing Lestat.” Clackity-clack-clack, pause, clack. Armand’s eyes don’t leave his screen. He doesn’t blink. He isn’t even breathing- save for the movement of his fingers and his eyes flicking over the screen, Armand is perfectly, ominously still. Daniel’s palms feel sweaty, which may or may not still be a thing that happens, and his heart is clambering its way up his throat with every second that ticks past in complete silence.
“Is that so?” Distant- not even cold. Like he couldn’t be bothered either way. “When?”
“No clue. He’s-” A petty asshole, an unprofessional dickwad, an inconsiderate, inconveniencing son of a bitch, Daniel could go on. “- a hard man to pin down.”
The corner of Armand’s mouth twitches upwards. “Is this what has been weighing on you so heavily? Have the interview here, for all I care.”
“He and Louis are back together.” Daniel blurts. Armand’s face breaks into a smile- like something cracking its way through a mask. As creepy as it is endearing.
"I know.” The smile vanishes, smoothed back into Armand’s typical bored countenance, and he shuts the laptop. Daniel’s brain takes in the immediacy of the movement and wonders if those files even have anything written on them. “I have been corresponding with Louis for a while. A month, maybe.”
“Corresponding?” Daniel echoes.
“Yes. Electronic letters. E-mails.” Daniel picks up a file. Armand watches. He flips through, finding nothing but empty printer paper- a small fortune’s worth of stationary. Of-fucking-course. Another game- it had been too quiet, too easy, how had he missed this?
“Then what was the point of all of this? You knew they were together- I’m assuming you knew about the interview, then. So, what, you just wanted to watch me agonize over it for weeks? Test me? See how long it took?” Fair, probably. Daniel deflates. “Did I pass?”
“No. You kept a secret from me for… ninety-two days, nineteen hours, and sixteen minutes.” Daniel is mostly sure he pulled that number out of his ass. But only mostly. Armand tilts his head, contemplating.
You told him. Louis’s voice startles Daniel enough to make him jump. Not just contemplating, then. It’s like he’s back in Dubai, watching them exchange their secret little glances, frustratedly playing catch-up. It’s a little humiliating, to be so soundly duped, in a way that makes him a little hot under the collar. Daniel resists the urge to follow that train of thought to its end. Armand is still watching him, unblinking, faintly smug but mostly anticipatory. Waiting for something that Daniel will undoubtedly give him. He can feel Louis’s amusement in the back of his head, like a cat watching a mouse run itself into a corner.
Hot. He squashes that thought as well.
“What is this? Why is this?” Daniel crosses his arms, immediately feels like he’s scolding one of his daughters- as if he was ever home long enough to do that- and uncrosses them, wavering on his feet, arms dangling by his sides. Armand pats the couch beside him. Daniel hesitates, but takes it. Not mad, then, that Daniel had failed. Good, maybe, maybe not. Armand didn’t have to be angry to be frightening.
We’ve been talking. Clearly. And we decided that you should come visit. Meet the man, catch up.
“Why the mind games, then?” Daniel asks. His mind races- meet Lestat, see Louis, is Armand going with them, how will that work, didn’t these people all hate each other last he checked what is going on- but he finds himself more excited than apprehensive.
That’s between me and your maker. Daniel waits, but it seems there is no further explanation forthcoming. At some point in the conversation, Armand had taken his hand and began bending Daniel’s fingers back, just to the point of pain. Bothered that Daniel wasn’t giving him his full, undivided attention. Daniel considers asking more questions- about their transportation, when, how, where, but finds that he already knows the answer to most of them; Armand will handle it. Keeping him in the dark. Even now that he’s one of them, these vampires can’t help but fuck with him.
“Okay. A little dramatic, but yeah, I’ll go.” Daniel wriggles his hand out of Armand’s grasp, only for him to take it and twine their fingers together. He smiles, remembers he’s supposed to be grumpy and perhaps perturbed, that he’s the butt of their joke, but finds he can’t stop. He’s going to see Louis again. Lestat, yeah, Lestat will be there and it’s a great opportunity- but Louis.
Good. Louis says, before completely disappearing from Daniel’s mind. He deflates, wonders if Louis heard Daniel’s internal monologue, decides he doesn’t care either way. Armand squeezes his hand, drawing Daniel out of his reverie. He lays out the logistics- he’d already packed for them, even though Daniel’s closet is still fully stocked, the jet will be ready in nine hours, blah, blah.
Or, well, not ‘blah.’
Armand has an odd fascination with doing things for Daniel. Every detail- the hours he had spent, the care he had put it, the effort- is shared with a sense of pride, a small smile, a thumb stroking Daniel’s knuckles, some carefully calculated show of affection. So Daniel listens. He doesn’t thank Armand- not with words- but the understanding is there. Daniel isn’t above basal greed; the simple pleasure in being catered to, cared about, pampered.
He does still fill a small backpack with normal clothes and sneak it onto the jet, though.
-
The flight is… a flight. If Daniel had expected any of Armand’s usual machinations, he’d be disappointed. Armand curls up by the window like a cat, temple against glass, staring down at the winking lights and oblong rectangles of New York, then New Jersey, then… well, Daniel gets bored of just watching Armand watch the world. He pulls out his laptop, and doesn’t even realize he’s clicked onto his notes until the words are on the screen, in all their size-12 Times New Roman glory.
It’s strange. Daniel doesn’t feel like he’s changed much, but looking at these words, it’s like they were written by a different person. This Louis, this Armand, this Daniel- they had only existed in a failing, paranoid mind. He can remember it- the pain, fog slowly closing in, always scrambling to catch up, the creeping sense of impending doom- but it’s… different. Yet not. But yet?
He clicks off. Spends a couple of hours wasting time on Microsoft Mahjong instead, because he’s still a seventy-ish year old man, after all.
The plane lands. A flight attendant materializes to smile them off the plane, and Daniel enjoys the perks of dating marrying loving living with associating with a man as rich as Armand- no baggage claim, no post-flight anything. Just into a sleek gray car and off.
Watching Armand now- staring out the window again, silent, scarcely breathing, it occurs to Daniel that he might be anxious. Difficult to tell, with someone so attuned to their body, so practiced in hiding the signs. But from someone like Armand, the silence is probably on par with hyperventilating and sobbing uncontrollably.
Or, y’know. Twiddling thumbs. It’s not an exact science. Daniel has never been good at this, calming people down. He gets the sense a joke would fall flat on its face, that shallow comforts would be received with lukewarm gratitude. He peers up front, to the GPS, makes out that they’re still almost an hour away from their destination. Armand shifts beside him, and a cold hand curls around the back of Daniel’s neck.
Daniel’s warmer, though neither of them could be considered warm. The hand on his neck guides him out of his seat- he unbuckles without a thought- into Armand’s side. Once there, Daniel holds his breath unthinkingly, waiting. An arm settles around his waist, limp and unrestraining.
After a minute, Daniel relaxes. He doesn’t dare move more than an inch, doesn’t want to piss Armand off, tip whatever odd mood he’s in to a rage. But it’s nice. He’d been depriving himself of this for so long.
“We must eat the driver when we arrive.” Armand whispers, quiet enough for only Daniel to hear. “It’s protocol.”
Who came up with that one- Louis? Surely not, so this had to be a Lestat thing. Or an Armand thing, though Daniel couldn’t imagine why.
He nods. Looks up front, only to find the driver’s eyes already on him. Dull, brown. Idly, Daniel dips into his mind, finds the usual fare- gross old man, sugar baby, creeps, why’s he looking at me, at least I’m getting paid- and sighs.
Yeah, he could eat.
The drive goes quickly after that, until brakes are squealing and the driver is coming around to Armand’s door. It opens, and the driver opens his mouth to say something- what, they’ll never know.
-
Louis has chosen a gaudy, bustling hotel for their meeting. Gold, red velvet, crystal- Daniel can smell the wealth on these people- and hotel staff in classic red suits. Armand gives his name to the staff and receives an actual, physical key to the room. Not their room; the room. It’s brass and has a little tassel on the end. Armand slips it into his pocket. Daniel is not offered a key, and Armand locks their arms together, drags him away before he can think about that too hard.
They don’t head upstairs- rather, Armand pulls him into a small bar/lounge off to the side. Daniel doesn’t have to look to know Louis is there, but he does anyway- only to immediately be blinded by him.
Armand has said that Lestat isn’t very skilled at the mind gift, but Daniel’s sure he’s listening in on the litany of holy shit he’s hot that’s looping in his head. Blond, blue-eyed devil lounging in a booth- Armand pulls him closer, and Daniel is suddenly aware of how far out of his element he is when Louis realizes they’re there, smiles- in a stupid vintage suit with a fucking bowtie and everything- and reaches across the table to nudge Lestat.
Lestat. Lestat is… Armand is right next to him. Daniel blinks. Oh, God. Oh, no. He will not be another hapless vamp pulled into Lestat’s orbit.
Louis snorts- undignified, and Lestat immediately looks over at him. Practically has hearts in his eyes- Daniel can relate. Armand stays glued to his side, silent; a glance proves that he’s also staring at Louis, looking vaguely like he’d been socked in the face. Lestat and Louis are sitting across the table from one another, so there is no safe option for Daniel- he slides in next to Louis, hopes it’s the right choice.
Armand perches himself on the very edge of the seat. Lestat’s face is refreshingly open, compared to Daniel’s usual company- his lip curls in disgust and he reaches across the table to take Louis’ hand, squeezing. Blatant, honest.
For a moment, that’s all they are- four vampires at a standstill, struck mute. Armand visibly uncomfortable, Lestat with his hackles raised, Louis doing whatever the fuck he’s doing, and Daniel just there.
Until Lestat’s expression breaks into a grin. He scoots over, puts an arm over Armand’s shoulders- Daniel braces himself- and pulls him close enough to kiss his cheek. Which he does.
“Safe trip?” Louis prompts.
“Yes.” Armand answers. His expression hasn’t changed, but Daniel gets the sense he’s more relaxed.
“And our boy?” Daniel twitches, but he bites his tongue. Fledgling had never felt like a more apt label. Louis isn’t as touchy-feely as Lestat appears to be, but he sidles close enough that Daniel can feel the warmth of his last meal against his side. He smells like blood and expensive cologne, like decadence. Daniel is so out of his depth that it isn’t even funny.
“Clueless.” Armand answers, after a moment. He makes a show of looking around at the decor. “Here? Really?”
“Recognize it?” Lestat speaks- his voice, his voice. Daniel’s cock twitches in his stupid slacks, and Lestat’s expression becomes even more shark-like, somehow. Not as inept as he’d been led to believe, then. Lestat turns to frown at Armand, “You have been lying about me?”
“No. You aren’t as skilled at the mind gift as Louis or I. I did not tell a lie.” Armand says easily. His eyes haven’t left Lestat’s face- hungry, Daniel recognizes, ravenous. Lestat’s expression brightens again. “Ah, there it is. Jealousy- do you hear it?”
“I’m feeling a little left in the dark.” Daniel says, just to say something, anything. Lestat smiles at him like he thinks Daniel’s said something cute.
“Yeah.” Louis says, ignoring him. He leans closer- touching, physical contact, oh no. Daniel crosses his legs and then feels like an idiot for trying. Stupid fucking fledgling libido. “No need for that, Daniel. We’re here because of you, after all. Lestat and I have a lot to thank you for.”
Armand is looking at him, now- Louis, not Daniel. Louis presses their thighs together, and it occurs to Daniel that this was never about an interview. This was skinship, this was lust, this was a trap. And he’d fallen into it as easily as anything.
“Thank me?” Daniel keeps his voice steady through sheer power of will. Armand looks at him, now, and his pupils are blown wide and dark, so at least someone is getting it. Lestat is practically glued to his side, but his eyes are still on Louis- Louis, who is looking at him. This is… fucked. Lines are being crossed, tangled, in ways that Daniel isn’t sure can be undone.
“Yeah. Thank you.” A hand is on his thigh. It’d be funny- they’re basically fucking in public, the dynamics, blah, blah, but Daniel’s brain is fucking melting. Louis’ hand feels like it weighs a ton, but simultaneously nothing at all, not enough. He’s going to vibrate out of his skin, except Louis squeezes, brings him back.
He’s being seduced. To what end, Daniel has no clue, but he’s helpless to prevent it. He turns to look at Louis- this close, he can only move so far before they’re kissing, to he turns back, faces front, looks to Armand for any help at all. Armand is… panting. Breathing. Lestat’s hand is somewhere below the table, somewhere between his thighs, and oh.
“Okay, then.” Daniel swallows. “Thank away.”
Abruptly, all contact ceases. Lestat and Louis pull away in unison- Daniel wonders if they choreographed it. Armand gathers himself quickly, but Daniel’s not so lucky.
“I think it’s time.” Louis says. “Don’t you?”
Lestat nods. Armand is the first to rise, stumbling a little- the only indication that he’s at all affected by this. Louis hauls Daniel upright- it’s undignified, but he’s grateful for the help. His knees feel like Jell-O. No one in the room seems to notice how Daniel’s straining against his zipper, nor how he’s being frog-marched out of the lounge, through the lobby, to the elevators.
They’re blessedly empty. Daniel slumps against the wall, but he doesn’t get a chance to collect himself- Armand is there, on him, hands, lips, teeth, as if they’re alone.
But they’re not. Daniel’s eyes are closed, and he grips onto Armand’s shoulders for dear life, but he’s acutely aware of how not alone they are. Armand’s lips are dry but warm, faintly bloody, familiar. He kisses hungrily, but not meanly- sweetly. Thank you, they’d said- this felt like gratitude, like a reward. A slim thigh pushes between his own, and Daniel’s reminded that most elevators have cameras- then a hand, a third hand, pushes against his lower back, rolling his hips against Armand’s thigh, and he forgets.
A bell dings. Armand pulls away, walks out- leaves Daniel there, against the wall, to Louis. Louis grasps his wrist, pulls him along- he’s not being independent tonight, it seems- to an open door. Key still in the lock.
The room itself is as gilded and ridiculous as everything else, but at the end of the day, it’s just a room. Armand is on the bed, somehow, cross-legged with eyes that track their every move. The door shuts behind them. Daniel’s heart pounds, he’s so hard it fucking hurts, and- and Louis drops his hand.
“I think it’d be best for Armand to go first. Show us what you’ve been getting up to.” Louis says conversationally, shrugging off his suit jacket, undoing his cufflinks. Performative, but Daniel still falls for it, hook, line, sinker. He’d been wondering what Louis looked like outside of those drab, black outfits he’d favored in Dubai; the answer was sinful. There’s a convenient loveseat next to the bed, and Lestat has draped himself across it like a pin-up girl, eyes heavy-lidded, an unscrupulous amount of buttons hanging open, baring his chest.
Armand makes quick work of his own shirt. Simple, black- not boring, no, but he looks out of place in this den of maximalism. Small, but not badly so- Daniel’s knees hit the mattress before he knows what he’s doing.
“I think you’re right. It’s not my usual pastime, I must admit, I usually prefer to be watched, as you know-” Distantly, Daniel begins to dread conducting an interview with this man. “But looking at them; they have their charms.”
Armand pulls him in by his collar- shirt collar, alas- and resumes what he’d ended in the elevator. Kisses Daniel like he means to eat him alive as he undoes Daniel’s buttons with dizzying efficiency, pushes his slacks down, pulling him this way, that way, a whirlwind of motion that ends with Daniel in his lap.
Naked. Armand looks like an angel below him, curls splayed across his pillows, eyes dark and wanting, lips parted, kiss-swollen and spit-slick. Daniel feels woefully inadequate in comparison.
“Beautiful, isn’t he, your Daniel?” Lestat says- Daniel’s not surprised that he’s providing commentary, but he almost wishes he’d stayed silent. His voice is a reminder that there are other people in the room- people watching. One person might look at him and think yeah, that’s hot, sure, he’ll buy that, but three? Armand shifts below him, a hand coming to rest on his hip, grounding.
"Don’t question my tastes. Or my Louis’ tastes.” Lestat’s voice is unkind, but Daniel doesn’t have time to dwell on that- a bottle clicks open. Armand’s hand slides up between his shoulder-blades, only to push him down, forward. Forcing him to arch his back- presenting. Fucking humiliating, but that added edge only makes Daniel breathe heavier, grinding his cock against Armand’s belly before he can stop himself.
A finger slips into him, slick with lube and ice-cold. Daniel’s breath catches in his throat, and he nearly chokes when he hears- something. The rustle of fabric. Heavy breathing. Skin sliding against skin- he twists his neck until he can make out Louis and Lestat- Lestat pushed back against the loveseat, Louis in his lap, face buried in his neck. Lestat meets his eyes, smiles drunkenly. A second finger slips into him, scissoring, stretching until Daniel aches inside.
“You take it beautifully.” Lestat comments. Louis pulls back, turns, sprawling back against Lestat like he’s part of the furniture. They’re achingly beautiful together. They look right here, against all this opulence, together, flushed with blood and bodies intertwined. Daniel almost can’t bear it, can’t bear the sight of all that beauty when he’s bare and himself.
“Doesn’t he?” Armand says- the first time he’s spoken in a while, Daniel realizes. He scissors his fingers lazily, dragging them out until Daniel clenches, scared they’ll leave entirely- teasing. Showing off, and not just for Daniel’s benefit. “He can take more. Much more.”
“Oh?” A third finger joins the two inside him, and Daniel has to hide his face in Armand’s neck- too much, too fucking much, to be stretched so wide, spread so far open, to have this many eyes on him. Thankfully, Armand doesn’t spend much time stretching him out- knows he doesn’t need it, knows what Daniel wants. Giving him what he wants.
The fingers slip out. The head of Armand’s cock notches against his hole, and Daniel sneaks a peek at their audience. He’s not shy, he’s not some blushing virgin bride, but it’s a lot to have someone watch as Armand’s cock slides into him, fills him up just right, to know that they are seeing how full he is. How easily he takes it. It’s a little slutty, how he can’t help but rock his hips, feel Armand’s cock sliding against his walls, how easily he takes it.
How they can hear him thinking that. Reluctantly, Daniel sits back up, breath stuttering, and settles properly on Armand’s lap.
Armand-
Armand isn’t even looking at him. Daniel follows his eyes- Louis. Louis, whose eyes are on Daniel. Louis had said tonight was about Daniel, but it’s apparent that it’s more about himself than he’d cared to admit. Daniel rolls his hips- Louis watches. Hungry, Daniel sees, he likes this, and that bolsters his confidence enough to properly bounce.
Armand’s eyes snap back to his- that feels good, it always does, having Armand’s attention. Daniel’s a greedy thing, he knows, needy and codependent, and having his maker fuck him like this- having him show off, grasping Daniel’s hips, pushing, pulling, dragging him up and down his cock like Daniel’s nothing more than a fleshlight. It’s sex, it’s sin, it’s everything Daniel needs to come apart, to forget, to feel like a person again, to feel like nothing.
“Oh, Daniel.” Louis breathes. Daniel looks over- doesn’t glance, doesn’t hide, he looks. Twin pairs of eyes, equally hungry, equally wanting. Louis acts, comes to the side of the bed, one knee up- he kisses Daniel like that, holds him in place so he can only squirm, head tilted so far back that there’s nothing he can do but take. Louis’ glass-shard nails against his cheek, soft lips on his, tongue twining behind his teeth. Armand’s hands on his hips keep him moving, a slow, filthy grind, stuffed full and frictionless.
It’s perfect. The head of Armand’s cock is pressed against his prostate, and every grind sends a jolt of too-much, too-good through his stomach. Louis presses closer, closer into Daniel’s side- a hand wraps around his cock. It’s too… it’s not Armand’s, Daniel realizes, accidentally bites Louis’ lip as the too-much tips over into just enough, just right, more, more, more, and he’s coming across Armand’s chest before he even realizes what’s happening.
Louis doesn’t stop kissing him. Doesn’t stop touching him, as Armand keeps pushing, pulling, in and out like the tide. Daniel’s on fire, his thighs are shaking. It’s painful, but he doesn’t want it to stop. Louis breaks the kiss, and as he does, Armand surges up, pushes Daniel back against the sheets. Vampire telepathy; love it or hate it. A hand pushes Daniel’s thigh back, back, until his calf rests on Armand’s shoulder, pinning him wide. Daniel’s other leg is wrapped around his hip, and it’s easy, too easy, for Armand to fuck him like this, fuck into him, too much too soon, fast and hard and fucking selfish.
Louis is next to him again- he kisses the bloody tears from Daniel’s cheeks, though his expression is anything but sympathetic, tangles his fingers in Daniel’s hair to pull him back in, drinking down Daniel’s fucked out whimpers. Daniel hears a gasp, is reminded that Lestat is still watching, judging.
“Beautiful, Louis, but. Kiss his neck, I want to hear him.” Lestat interrupts. Louis complies, teeth- human teeth- latching onto the skin of Daniel’s neck, leaving him to release embarrassing whimper after humiliating whine into the open air. It’s not fair, they were supposed to be thanking him, and here he is. Fucked and used, crying, but they just don’t care.
Armand’s hips still, finally, cock buried to the hilt within him, but Daniel doesn’t feel any sort of reprieve. Though Louis is still clothed, he takes Armand’s place- Armand, who settles back against the pillows, no care for his fledgling. Maybe it’s petulant, but he almost wishes-
“Don’t be cruel, Armand. Kiss the boy.” Louis shoves his slacks down just far enough to get his dick out- classy, Daniel thinks, as though the sight doesn’t send a fresh pulse of lust through him- and fucks into him with no resistance, no hesitation. Daniel gasps, though it comes out as a sob, and grips the sheets- where Armand had been selfish, Louis is giving. He doesn’t know which is worse, because each of Louis’ thrusts fills him up just right, fluid and deep, sinful and decadent. Indulgent.
Armand moves like a ghost, lying beside Daniel. This, this is familiar- unblinking eyes taking in each of his reactions, watching as someone fucks him. Except it’s not, because it’s Louis, because Armand is watching both of them, because Daniel is crying blood, because Lestat is watching. Armand kisses him, and Daniel doesn’t know if it’s because he wants to, or because Louis wants him to.
Louis makes a noise at that, and suddenly Armand’s grip on him becomes bruising, possessive- he doesn’t use words, but he bites Daniel’s lip until he draws blood, his nail’s scratch, and it hurts. He curls closer, closer, until it must be obscuring the view, and it’s- it’s effective. Point proven. Curls tickling his cheek, tongue worrying at his bloodied lip, fingers bruising Daniel’s shoulder. It’s Armand, right there, but it’s Louis inside him, Louis’ fingers bruising invisible marks into Daniel’s thighs, Louis, Louis, Louis.
He’s tight, and slick, and losing his mind. Blood rushes in Daniel’s ears, and he’s drowning in it all, in the heady feeling of being fucked, in Armand, in the knowledge that Lestat is watching. He doesn’t need air, but his lungs burn, and he needs- too much, he’s suffocating, too much, too much, but they don’t stop, he knows they hear, but Louis just fucks him deeper, harder, more, more, until Daniel’s fucking stupid with it all.
He comes like that, he thinks- he can’t tell. It’s so soon, so much, that the unending sea of pleasure he’s being engulfed in drowns the pinnacle of his orgasm out. Every nerve in his body is overclocked, every muscle locked up tight. Daniel’s just a vessel for it, for him, for them. Louis is fucking Armand’s cum back into his body, he’ll add to it, he’ll be sloppy and fucked out and that’s before whatever Lestat plans to do to him. Daniel’s on the fast track to insanity, and Armand and Louis just cut his brake line.
Louis finishes, he thinks, maybe, because he’s too fucked out to tell whether he’s still being fucked. He only knows for sure when Armand is pulled back- not pulls back, is pulled, by Lestat’s hand in his hair, pushing him to the side. Armand goes, dazed and weak, falls limp against the sheets.
“I think we need a change of scenery, don’t you?” Lestat says, smiling wide and unsympathetic, gathering Daniel up in his arms. “We paid extra for the balcony, didn’t we, Louis, it’s only right that we make use of it? Yes, I thought so.”
The doors open. Night air caresses Daniel’s overheated skin as he is manhandled over the railing- bent over the railing. The city stretches out below him, not far enough away, and it’s a miracle that no one looks up, that no one sees his mouth drop open as Lestat finally, finally slides into him. It’s- of-fucking-course he has a huge dick. Daniel’s legs buckle, because the stretch of him, the width filling him, is too much for his poor nerves to handle.
Graciously, Lestat catches him. Bottoms out like that, so deep that Daniel feels like choking on his tongue.
“Still so tight.” Lestat muses, arching his hips just so- the doors are still open, Daniel realizes, they’re still watching. “Ah, well. You’ll loosen up.”
With that, he pulls out- Daniel drops his head forward against the railing, grits his teeth. It’s not like he has any pride left, but having the public bear witness as this pompous Frenchman rearranges his guts is too far for even him. He can’t hold back a groan as Lestat fucks back in, sighing prettily, before snapping his hips on the next stroke, pushing a choked, bitten-off scream past Daniel’s lips.
“There we go.” Lestat sounds pleased. “Scream, darling, let them hear what I do to you. You don’t want our precious gremlin bored, do you? Idle hands do the devil’s work- of course, you’d know all about that. Yes there you go, just like that. Let go. Feels good, doesn’t it, me inside you- you needed to be filled up like this, didn’t you, need to be put in your place.”
Of course, he’s a talker. Daniel can’t bring himself to care- the words wash over him like holy water, cleansing, because Lestat sounds like he believes it. Believes that Daniel needs to be pushed down, fucked- believes that Armand is anything but fascinated, believes that he is what Daniel has been waiting for. In that accent, with that deep, silky voice, Lestat could probably tell him that the sky was green and Daniel would believe him.
“Flatterer. The sky is blue, tonight. Not a cloud in the sky.” Lestat says easily. “You have such a way with words, I’m told. But not here? Armand said you got like this, sometimes- ‘fucked stupid,’ you call it. Wordless. You should see yourself, Daniel, to know what he means.”
Lestat pulls him back, up- gathers Daniel up against his chest, legs and all, still on his cock, and walks him back into the room. Armand and Louis are still one the bed, wrapped around each other, writhing in the sheets- not that Daniel gets much of a chance to see, as Lestat is pulling him into a different room.
The bathroom. You should see yourself. Daniel doesn’t look, he can’t.
“See yourself. See us.” There’s a large mirror that he deposits Daniel in front of- a glance proves that he’s looking at himself, admiring the flexing of his muscles as he drives his cock into Daniel. Daniel closes his eyes, rests his head on the sink- he’s drooling, he thinks, and rather than disgusting him, Lestat’s disinterest in him only stokes the fire within him further. Forget, don’t make me, please.
“Disinterest? You misunderstand me.” Daniel’s been dragged around by his hair a lot this evening. That’s not a bad thing. It’s how Lestat pulls him up, forces him to look at himself in the mirror- at his flushed, tear-streaked face, bloodied and bruised. His lip has long closed up, but the blood is still there. He looks-
“Beautiful. And like a slut, but, well.” Lestat smiles. He hasn’t even stopped fucking him, the bastard. “Takes one to know one, yes?”
Daniel wants to hide- wants to lose himself in being fucked, in being filled. But Lestat isn’t allowing that. No, he’s making him watch- watch his lips quiver, watch himself drool, and sob, and moan, and watch Lestat’s smug fucking face over his shoulder. Lestat cums like that- head thrown back in picturesque ecstasy, adding to the mess spilling down Daniel’s thighs, babbling like a maniac.
“There we go,” He coos, petting Daniel’s flank as he pulls out. Slips a few fingers into him, spreading them- showing how loose he is. “I said we would loosen you up, and look. We must show them, mustn’t we, let them enjoy our work?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. Just carries Daniel back to the main room and unceremoniously dumps him on the bed- hands catch him, caress, grope, pulling him back against a familiar chest.
“There you go.” Lestat says, reclaiming the loveseat. “A properly fucked boy.”
Armand noses against his ear. Louis crouches over them, wild-eyed, and Daniel has to wonder what happened while he was out of the room, that they are like this. Silent. Waiting. Hungry.
“Hey.” Daniel breathes, crossed between frightened and aroused. Is it over? It doesn’t feel like it’s over- Armand’s hard cock is pressed against his ass, and Louis is staring, over them, between their thighs- oh. “Oh, fuck.”
“You can take it,” Louis says. Armand hums in agreement- in a practiced move, he hitches Daniel up just enough to slip inside of him once more. Daniel’s embarrassment deepens; Armand feels small inside him, even when he clenches, wet and open and loose. “See? You need more now, greedy boy. We can give it to you.”
“Fuck.” Louis shifts closer- straddling Armand’s thighs, pushing Daniel’s up until Armand’s got a hand under each knee, holding him open. It’s- they have to have been here for hours, and it is only because of vampiric stamina that Daniel hasn’t passed out. He can’t muster a protest as Louis lines himself up, only drops his head back when small becomes splitting him open, ripping him in half. He can’t even cry- he’s all dried up. “Fuck. That’s- that’s two.”
“You’ve taken more.” Armand chides, holding him open, still as a statue and just as unforgiving. “You can take this. He’s thanking you, beloved, remember?”
He is. Louis pulls back, and that feeling of empty-but-not makes Daniel’s stomach swoop. He’s tight again, at least. Filled. Louis fucks back into him, leans up to kiss him again- distract him. Armand’s mouth is pressed against his neck, but it’s still, cold. He’s just there, against Daniel’s back- grounding. Louis’ breaths come in shuddering gasps. Overstimulated, but still pushing himself forward, cock dragging against Daniel’s walls in a cruel, overwhelming facsimile of gratitude.
“Thank you.” Louis smiles when he says it, like a joke, leering over Daniel’s shoulder.
Thanking him. No, this is a punishment- for lying, for hiding. This is Armand saying if you want them, you can have them. But only on my terms. Only like this, when you have no control. It’s cruel, and unusual, and fucking inhumane, letting them fuck him like this, pushing him right up against that fucking knife’s edge of insanity, of losing himself to the pleasure, to the feeling of them behind his fucking navel, to being cored out and filled up and whole.
He’s fucked. And fucked, and fucked, and fucked, again and again. The drag, in, out, in, out, and Daniel can only stare up at the crown-molding and take, loose, limp, a doll, a toy. His maker’s fledgling, his maker’s to use, his, his, Armand, Armand’s toy, Armand’s- fuck, he’s crying again. It’s too much, too full, aching deep inside, stretched open so far, fucked, but he can’t stop it, can’t do anything.
There’s a peace there, to that inability. There is nothing he can do- he can’t stop them. He doesn’t want to, but if he did, and they didn’t, there’s nothing he can do. It’s sick- he’s soft, somehow, bloodless, but there’s something else building in his gut, a sicker, sweeter pleasure. It’s sick, because he likes this. This is the hottest thing to ever happen to him, this helplessness, this need. Louis’ hand presses down below his belly button, and it’s- it makes everything tighter, and even though he knows it’s impossible, that there’s too much there, he wonders whether Louis can feel himself there, in his stomach, how deep he’s gotten.
“I can’t,” Louis says, apologetically, before his lips curl into a smug little grin. “But you can, can’t you? You’re full- I can feel it, I can hear you. Did you forget that? You think you’re so smart, usually, but like this? Daniel you’re dumb. I can hear you- Lestat can hear you. You’re so fucking-”
He gasps, and Daniel looks down just long enough to see Lestat behind him, kissing up his neck. Louis’ eyes flutter shut, and he reaches back. Like Daniel isn’t even there, as he takes on a new rhythm. He’s being fucked. That’s- Daniel watches, enraptured, as Lestat braces his forearm across Louis’ stomach, using him, fucking Daniel with him, as Louis’ smugness fades into desperate whimpers and stuttering hips.
It doesn’t take long after that- Louis cums like that, crying. Pretty, so pretty, sniffling and sobbing as Lestat pushes him down onto Daniel, fucks him like that, brutally, hand on the back of his neck to keep him down. Dominating.
“Off.” Armand says. Lestat freezes, then complies, allowing Armand to tip Daniel onto his front. Boneless. He closes his eyes.
“You did well.” Armand murmurs, right against his ear. After everything, Daniel doesn’t much feel Armand fucking him; it’s more like being rocked, metronomic and soothing. “So good. Clever, stupid boy. You made it up to me. You took them so well, taking me so well- we’ll have to do this more often, hm?”
Daniel nearly sobs in relief when he cums. It doesn’t feel like anything, but then he’s empty, and the sudden end nearly bowls him over. Lestat and Louis aren’t even on the bed anymore- where they are, he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter right now.
“It has been my pleasure.” Lestat breaks the silence, rude, and kisses Daniel’s cheek, urging him to crack an eye open. Despite his debauched appearance, he looks the part, with his long blonde hair falling into his face, his sharp blue eyes- like he’d stepped out of a renaissance painting. Smug, grinning wide in the face of Daniel's exhaustion. Miraculous, to be that coherent, after an hours-long fuck-sesh.
“Yeah.” He says dumbly, watching Lestat go, seemingly unashamed of his nakedness. Louis kisses his temple, quick and hard, before following Lestat out of the room, shrugging on a quickly-ruined silk robe. Daniel turns further into Armand’s embrace- where are they going? Does it matter, when he has Armand wrapped around him, when he’d been good?
His only tether to the waking world is Armand’s lips against his throat, the fluids covering their naked forms. Daniel can’t bring himself to lift a single finger to do anything about either of those facts.
But it’s fine; Armand will handle it for him.