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Summary
One fragment at a time, the night before comes back to him: the blood Daniel had picked out for them and the strange, bitter taste of it, how heavy it felt in his mouth, the powdery aftertaste stuck in his throat like gravel. “Did you drug me, Daniel?”
“I had to, honey,” Daniel coos, his voice saccharine, strawberry-sticky. The hand that isn’t breaking Armand open grips Armand’s thigh, pushing into the tender meat. “I knew how worked up you would get otherwise. I have to take care of you, baby. You like it so much when I take care of you, and you’re taking care of me with your hole. Isn’t that nice, sweetheart?”
“Beloved,” Armand chokes out, though to his own ears his voice carries the poisoned notes of a high-pitched moan. “My love, please -” he sobs, but Daniel bites his shoulder hard enough to break the skin, blood flowing out of him in rivulets.
“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Amadeo.”
[ written for day 2 of sub!Armand week, CNC ]