Work Text:
It's nearly midnight, the lights of the parallel city glimmering in the reflection of the East River as they cross the Williamsburg Bridge. It has a frozen quality as it ripples through the stream, the bustling traffic and buzz unreachable through the confinement of the train car. It's nearly empty, so Daniel doesn't hesitate to wrap his arm around Armand. He leans into the touch, smiling softly while grabbing Daniel's hand in his. It's strange, the freedom to be so open together. Forty years ago, he'd gotten his face pounded into the sidewalk for daring to brush the hand of a hookup on the way out of the bar. Now he could kiss Armand in the middle of Central Park without anyone giving a second glance.
Armand seems happy, too. They were on their way back to Manhattan from a limited run of one of his favorite operas. It was one of those rare moments when his eyes seemed to be holding nothing more than the moment at hand.
They both turn their heads as the car pulls to the stop, only one person coming in. It's a young woman, about thirty. She has a pristine look about her, a dignified posture as she takes a seat a few rows down. There's a moment, when she looks at them, and her eyes linger on Armand's form encased in Daniel's, moving down to the point where their hands interlock. If neither of them possessed the mind gift, it could have passed for a fleeting moment between strangers. But naturally, they were privy to all her internal dialogue.
Jeez, what a creep. That boy can't be more than 25, what's he doing with a man three times his age?
Armand's grip tightens as his shoulders go rigid.
Probably a sugar daddy situation. Hope that poor boy can find a way to make ends meet without selling himself.
Daniel glances at Armand, whose gaze has grown significantly more disconcerted. Such comments rarely phased him himself, he was too old to care about what passerby had to say about him. A notably controversial career full of jaded critics had forced him to develop a thick skin. One would have thought that with over 500 years Armand would have been the same, but his life experiences had done all the opposite.
They spend the rest of the ride in silence before getting off at the stop across the street from their apartment. Armand does not walk by his side, leading him up the stairs of the station with a brisk pace and head down. It isn't until they make it inside before Daniel tries to talk to him. Armand still hasn't turned around when he puts a hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off, steps hurried and defiant as he heads straight towards their bedroom.
“Babe, c’mon. I don't know why you give a shit about what some random mortal thinks.” He chuckles, trying to lighten the air. “I mean, if only they knew you've got over 400 years on me.”
Armand turns around sharply. The tears of blood in his eyes had clearly been welling for some time.
“I'm glad to know that the accusations have not phased you, Daniel.”
Daniel grasps around for the words to respond before sighing. “Is this about the Slate article?”
Armand's lips tighten. Admittedly, the media has had quite a few words to say about 70 year old disgraced Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Daniel Molloy being spotted around NYC holding hands with a man in his mid-20s who happened to share the same name as the seductive villain of his sensual vampire romance that he refused to refer to as fiction. He knew Armand went on Twitter, and he knew he was particularly active in following anything that involved Daniel.
“Those hacks wouldn't know good journalism if it hit them in the face. Whose business is it what two consenting adults do behind closed doors?”.
“Consent,” Armand spits out. “So much talk in this century of ‘consent’. Meaningless word. No consideration for context or the many complexities of physical union.”
Daniel puts a hand over his brows with an exasperated groan. “We are not getting into this again.” He looks at Armand pointedly. “It's not sex if somebody doesn't want it. Or,” his gaze sharpens, “isn't old enough to even know what they're doing.”
Armand takes a step back, vehemence in his wavering tone. “Lucky for you, Daniel, I have no memory of any sense of unfamiliarity regarding carnal desire. I was never graced with the luxury of that innocence.”
Daniel sighs, making a conscious effort to soften his voice. He knows that if they continued building off of each other's anger, the fight would escalate to an uncontrollable level. And given the topic, he wants to make sure they could stay in a calm direction.
“Yeah that's fucked up, babe. And you didn't deserve that. Any of it. But I don't want you to equate what happened to you with some sort of skill. I don't get anything out of it because you have more experience. I wish I could go back and kill every single one of the people that did this to you. Especially him.” He stresses the last syllable enough to emphasize the complete repulsion he holds against Marius. True to character, Armand does not take well to the disrespect.
“Do not speak a word of my maker,” he says, voice steadily rising. “You have no clue what he has done for me. What would have happened to me without him.”
“Ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome? Just because he saved you doesn't mean he had the right to rape you every night. And pimp you out to his disgusting friends, I mean what the fuck, babe? I know you didn't like it; why do you act like you did?”
“Because I did like it, Daniel!” Armand shouts out. The tears are beginning to break loose, steadily trailing down his face. “My master would cradle me gently and brush out my hair and then he would fuck me until I bled and I liked it.”
Daniel tries to get a word out, but Armand seemed to not even register his voice.
“Even if it hurt, even if I did not want to be there, my body enjoyed the experience. It gave me pleasure. For him, I was willing to give myself up to the occasional friend of his. I did not fight it. I never fought it like I did at the brothel.” He looks up at Daniel. “That was rape. I screamed ‘no’ and I cried and clawed at my aggressors, ripping out chunks of skin. The harder I fought the more they enjoyed it. I was a little boy to conquer. Marius did not see me that way. I was his precious Amadeo and he wanted nothing more than to protect me.” He stares at Daniel defiantly, urging him to cease the prodding and not question his interpretation of the events. Of course, that has never been in Daniel's nature.
“Sure. He loved you so much he just had to share you with everybody. Just because he wasn't holding you down while you screamed doesn't mean he didn't take advantage of you.”
“What about you, Daniel?” Armand interjects. “Do not pretend you have not fabricated your own loose interpretation of ‘consent’. What about the boy from your lecture?”
“That's not– that's different,” he stumbles out. “He was there for me. He wanted to have sex.”
“Did he? Or did you just select him out of a group and tell him he'd be the one you would be fucking.”
“He wanted to come back to the hotel with me, I asked him.”
“No, Daniel, you told him ‘come back with me’ and he obliged. There was no explicit discussion until you grabbed him by the hair while he was facedown in the bed and went inside of him.”
“Why would he have gotten naked if he didn't want to fuck?”
“You didn't ask him, Daniel. You didn't discuss what he was comfortable with or what he wanted to do.” He pauses and takes a breath.“On my first night with Marius I allowed myself to be undressed in his bathroom.” His voice is becoming detached and uncertain as it often does when he spoke of his past. He bathed me, tenderly, then pleasured me orally.” He looks up at Daniel. “He did not even get himself off. It was all for my gratification.”
Daniel opens his mouth and begins to speak before changing his mind entirely. He sighs. “Yeah, that's fucked. Both. It wasn't right what I didn't that kid. I was too hyped up on power and fame and drugs. Didn't think to consider what it'd feel like to be in his end, just a toy in an older man's hands.” He reaches out and puts his hand on Armand's shoulders. He didn't back away this time. “And you didn't deserve that either. Twenty-four hours after rescuing you from sexual slavery, he should have been comforting you. He should have been showing you what it looks like to not be treated entirely as a sexual object. Not sucking you off in a bathtub like he's just another one of your customers.”
Armand's blood stained face is welling up with tears again. He has that wide eyed, submissive look that sometimes makes Daniel feel it's really Arun he is speaking with. “It wasn't like that.”
“Yes it was. And you can't keep acting like it was normal when it clearly traumatized you more than I can ever imagine. I know you and Louis had that weird ‘Maitre’ thing going on, but I am really not fucking into that.”
All of a sudden Armand is crying. Really crying. The kind of sobs that start in the pit of your stomach and force their way up your throat as you choke.
“Hey, hey.” Daniel takes him into his arms, allowing Armand to bury his face in his shirt while he cries. “It's okay, I'm here.” He runs a gentle hand over his back in soothing circles. If vampires actually needed air, he'd be worried he was about to pass out. “Just breathe, I've got you."
He doesn't know how long it's been when Armand's breaths finally begin to even out. Once he can get a word out, he tells him “I think I would like to go lie down now.”
Daniel nods. “Yeah, boss."
He leads him to the bedroom, Armand still trailing behind him like a little kid. He helps him undress, putting him in something more comfortable for lounging around the house. He dims the lights. It's not close to sunrise, but he knew when Armand got really upset sometimes the best thing was to sit in an under-stimulating environment for a while. They move to the bed and Armand pulls up a blanket so it is covering his chest. He looks so small. It breaks Daniel's heart. He can't help but imagine that little boy, scared, fighting for his life for so long. Then when he finally escaped the constant violence and abuse, it was only to be bought by a man who continues to use him for his body, stripping away his identity entirely outside of what did not serve him.
He can't undo the trauma, but he can at least show him what it looks like to be loved. Maybe it is a do over for Daniel, too. After two failed marriages and shortcomings at fatherhood and, maybe he could learn to take care of someone how they really need it, not how he thinks they do.
He takes his companion’s shoulders by the hands and begins kneading softly at the taught muscles. It's like rubbing at a brick wall. Whenever Armand got all worked up like that he'd become so tense it manifested into genuine pain. Daniel can always recognize it from the way he holds himself in those times: rigid posture, sensitive to touch, shoulders caved in. Armand leans into his hands, humming softly at the release of pressure. Daniel presses his lips against the back of his head.
“Feel good, babe?”
“Yes dear,” he says, sounding much more at ease than he had fifteen minutes ago. “Very much so.”
“Want me to go harder?”
“You can. Just slightly. It is especially painful further down.”
“You got it, boss.” He drifts closer to the spot in Armand's upper back right in between his shoulder blades that usually gives him the most trouble. Seems like his muscles never got the memo that he'd become an immortal being exempt from most afflictions. He chalks it up to him having been around for a very long time. His poor body holds the burdens of over five-hundred years, coping with enduring nearly every form of abuse conceivable. Daniel thinks back towards the aches and pains he suffered within his mortal body of nearly seventy, wondering what it would have felt like to withstand such over five times as long.
Daniel makes little circles with his thumbs around the knots that so often formed along either side of his spine before sliding up to grab at the muscles in his shoulders and pinch them from either side rhythmically. It's enough force to make a mortal's bones cave in on themselves, but it seems to be just enough to soothe Armand. He can't help but smile at the orgasmic quality of the moan that escapes his lover’s lips. As the cool skin warms from the movement, he digs a little deeper, hoping to reach the source of the tension. Armand winces.
“Shit, did that hurt?”
“Yes, but a good hurt. Please keep going.”
Daniel wordlessly continues the stroking motions until the muscles are all but clay in his hands. He works most of his upper back out until Armand squirms out of his touch. “That's enough,” he states. “It's getting too sore.”
“Alright,” he says, brushing a final soft stroke over his back before wrapping an arm around him. “Thanks for telling me.” He leans back against the pillows, Armand lays down facing him, head on his chest. “Feeling better?”
He nods, leaning over for a quick kiss on the lips. “Your hands will always heal me, beloved.”
He smiles. “I'm glad you told me what felt nice. So I could make sure I was doing a good job, wasn't making it worse.”
Armand shifts slightly. “Yes. It is good to communicate clearly.”
“But it would have still felt good if I didn't ask, right? If I just gave you a massage and you said nothing?”
Armand hums. “I suppose.”
“But you told me what you wanted, and you told me when to stop. You didn't have to sit in any discomfort you didn't want to, and you made sure I touched the areas that would feel the best.”
He seems to think on this for a moment. “You may be right, beloved.”
Daniel gave him a squeeze and smiled. “I know I'm right.
He was just starting to drift off when he heard Armand's voice.
“Daniel?” He speaks up, voice ever so small.
Daniel gives his arm a little squeeze. “What's up, boss?”
“I need to tell you something. Please do not be angry.”
“I won't get angry, don't worry.” He slips his fingers through Armand's curls and scratches at his scalp softly.
“I do not like it when you pull at my hair.”
Daniel instinctively pulls away, hovering his hand away from his head.”
“No,” Armand corrects. “When we are having sex. I do very much enjoy it when you play with it, such as now. It is quite grounding.”
“You can always tell me when something doesn't feel good. Actually please tell me, for my benefit if anything.” He squeezes Armand, a comforting gesture he knows he likes. “I don't want to live up to the creepy old man rumors."
Armand smiles, snuggling up closer to him. "If anything, I am the creepy old man." He gives that half laugh that he always does when he doesn't quite have the energy for a full one. "I did start seeing you when you were twenty and I was five-hundred."
"And you stalked me." Daniel adds, smiling and still combing through his hair. "And tortured me for six nights."
Armand does seem to pull back a bit at the mention. His face falls slightly. "I hope I have come to atone for my actions."
Daniel ruffles his hair. "Yeah, I think you have." He places a soft kiss on his head. "How about we take a quick nap and then go for a walk before the sun comes up" he says, changing the subject.
Armand hums. "I think I'd like that."
"And if anyone gives us a dirty look, we'll have a wonderful snack."
"No, no. I fed yesterday," he smiles. "Anyways, whatever they think does not concern me. I have my beautiful boy and nothing else matters."
Armand closes his eyes, easing into the gentle darkness. Daniel doesn't go to sleep quite yet, opting to watch his love as the muscles in his face relax and all his worries and burdens fade into the peaceful night.