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    Summary

    “I try not to make noise, most of the time,” Daniel murmured.

    Armand nodded and mused at this. His hand slotted back into Daniel’s hair. “That’s because most of the sexual favors you exchange with men are done in the privacy of a public bathroom or bar-adjacent alleyway. Very little tender sex in your history.”

    “I’m not good at being soft,” he said, then berated himself. He was starved and anemic and likely to die, and all of it combined flayed him open. Was he doing this because he thought it might save his life? No. Not really. But then, there was no other reason to do it. And Daniel needed a reason. At least, his brain did. His mouth, not so much.

    Armand smoothed the trailing hair above his ear. “I disagree.”

    -

    While Daniel waits to die in a shitty apartment on Divisadero street, he asks Armand for a drink of water.

    They both get a sip of what they're aching for.

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