Armand's sudden fascination with you quickly escalates to something more.
Warnings: NSFW, Dubious Consent, Power Imbalance, Exhibitionism, Polyamory, Degradation, Blood Drinking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, (Suspend your disbelief with Armand's sharp ass fingernails), Cunnilingus, Female Orgasm, Squirting, Biting, Draining, Mind Control, Forced Intoxication, Vampirism
Word Count: 3k+
Read Part I
From the moment his fingers leave your mouth, you can’t help but crave of the very taste of him, their sudden absence creating a desperate need for more contact, for more blood. You lean forward as his hand slowly drops to his side, your lips swelling with a desire to seek out tangible reward of that decadent elixir.
Gods, he tastes good. Is that how all blood tastes to them? No wonder they can barely control it.
“Ah ah ah, that’s enough for now,” he clicks his tongue, smirking slightly as he watches you fall deeper under his spell. “Don’t want to overwhelm your senses.”
Easy for him to say.
Your veins all but cry out as you feel his essence trickle into your bloodstream, taking over with each frantic beat of your eager heart. You can hear it drumming in your ears, feel it pounding in your chest, see it blurring every color and shape around you, melding them together until they’re nothing but a swirling abyss of blacks and grays behind him. No more sterile minimalism. No more sharp lines or dull colors. No more unsettling contemporary paintings. Just him and his midnight locks that appear to move all on their own, to shift and curl and grow around his perfect face as it gets closer to your own.
“Shhh, I know, darling, I know.” He teases in a slightly demeaning tone, crouching down as that endlessly black aura follows him around like oil through water. Slick, buoyant and unmistakably stark. “You’re seeing it all now, aren’t you? More than you’ve ever dreamed of before?”
All you can do is nod silently as he holds your face in his hands, reverently stroking your cheeks as if you’re something precious he can’t bear to lose.
But his own face seems to change slightly now, his eyes shifting from gold to black to gold again. Burning like a fierce sunset, his features morph with the weight of experience, shifting with the intensity of immense loss and hardening with the burden of trauma. Almost as if he’s aging backward and forward at the very same time. Different scents begin to emanate off of him with each flip of the proverbial filter. The musk of Arun’s massage oils melts into the earthiness of Amadeo’s church incense before Armand’s cigarette smoke crumbles into the dust of velvet theatre curtains. Every persona he’s ever taken up, every year, every decade and every century he’s lived through suddenly becomes visible to your mind’s eye. Past, present and future all freely given to you.
The heartache of each lover sinks into the very depth of your viscera, the brunt of his maker’s abuse churning in the pit of your stomach as it hardens him to the world over time. You can see that the need for control is much more dire than his hunger for blood, somehow justifying his malignant manipulation of Louis in Paris, a shocking hidden truth he hadn’t told anyone before. A truth that he’s choosing to share with you now.
Oh no. Ohhhhh no.
A new trail of tears streams down your face as your body attempts to release the exponential flood of raw emotion, his ancient temperament combining with yours in a tempest of volatile longing, sorrow and discipline. He merely smiles at you and wipes your tears with his thumbs, almost as if he’s pleased to see your trembling lips and quivering limbs. You understand now that this is a gift in its own morbid sort of way. A warning. A test.
“I see you,” you mumble softly, relishing in his affectionate hold as conflicted sympathy swells in your chest. “All of you.”
“All of me?” He simply smirks and lets go of your face, resting his palms on your knees. “And you’re not afraid?” He takes a beat to kneel down before you, taking his time to really look at you, to quietly analyze the racing thoughts in your head as your mortality lies in the balance. His cool hands travel up your trembling thighs before parting them slowly, twin trails of goosebumps erupting in their wake. “I knew I was right about you.”
Not afraid? Not afraid? What the fuck does he mean, not afraid? Of course you’re afraid! How could you not be?!
But what can you do about it? What other choice do you really have, here? Deny him and try to re-focus the interview? It’s far too late for that. Spit in his face and attempt to fight him off? Then Louis? Then run out into the street without your passport in the middle of a foreign country where you don’t even speak the language? Yeah, good luck with that.
“You… you don’t think I’m afraid?” You stammer as his hands creep higher up the length of your thighs, sending delicious waves of warmth up into your core that you wish you can ignore.
“I know that you should be.” He grins so darkly it nearly blots out all the light in the room, filling your chest with an impending sense of doom as your center burns with a toe-curling need for him. “But your scent betrays you.”
You shake your head, surrendering to the fact that even you can smell how aroused you are as his fingertips push the fabric of your skirt all the way up toward your pelvis, exposing your underwear to him and the two others still watching.
This isn’t fair. None of this is. You were just supposed to be shadowing Daniel for an interview, and now you’re… somehow at his mercy, itching to have him inside you. Gods, what is wrong with you?
“Already wet from words, darling?” He hums to himself before brushing his fingertips over the soaked spot on your panties, exciting the sensitive skin beneath it with a slow circular motion he’s managed to perfect over the centuries. “Oh, you poor, poor thing.”
Fuck, he’s really good at that.
“Louis and Daniel already know how it feels to have me as their maitre. Now it’s your turn,” he smirks, slipping his fingers beneath the damp fabric to finally touch your bare skin. “They may be frozen where they sit, but they can still see the way I touch you, still hear the sound of your heart racing inside that tiny little chest of yours, still smell that intoxicating musk that coats your folds.” He glides his fingers up and down your length, spreading the moisture onto your clit as he glances over at them smugly.
“Daniel?!” Your brow furrows in confusion as he continues to excite those tingling nerves buried just beneath the surface of your skin, rubbing maddening pulses of pure ecstasy as they lick up your spine, one right after another. “You… you slept with Daniel?”
Gods, that feels divine.
He clicks his tongue again, scolding you with a pouty scowl as he deftly pushes his index finger into your entrance. His lips part as he watches it glide inside with a gentle ease, relishing in how your body envelopes every inch before he decides to slip another in alongside it, forcing your eyelids to flutter. “So eager,” he whispers, almost to himself as he ignores your question altogether. “So desperate to feel.”
You want to say that he’s using his powers to keep your legs spread wide open for him, that he’s forcing you to sit still enough for him to rip your panties completely off before you nearly soak yourself over the danger and depravity of it all. But you know as well as he does that that would be a lie; that you’re more than willing to see how far he’ll take this, no matter the cost.
You gasp as he pushes a third finger in, down to the very base of his knuckle. That gasp morphs into a moan as he turns his wrist to make sure every last inch of your circumference feels the widening breadth of his digits before pulling them back out and sliding them back in again.
“Fuck!” Your mouth falls slack and your head falls back, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he pushes in deeper, sheathing his perfect fingers inside you. His thumb instinctively finds your clit and begins rubbing a slow, hypnotic rhythm into it. Up and down, left to right and over again as another breathy moan leaves your parted lips. Your hips begin to roll into the slow, tantalizing thrusts of his hand, allowing him to delve deeper inside until he finds that sweet spot so many men have missed.
“You’re not the first lover Louis and I have shared, but you are the first woman, the first seer. He can sense how perfect you are for us, how useful you’ll be in the future.” He curls his fingers inside of you, massaging that sinful bundle of nerves until your entire body begins to shiver, muscles clenching down and pulsating around his digits as your juices leak out onto the chair.
“Louis?” Louis, why would he mention Louis? And what did he mean by ‘sharing a lover’?
You hear the scraping sound of a chair’s legs against the concrete floor as something stirs off in your periphery, but disregard it as Armand removes his thumb from your swollen bud. Furrowing your brow, you watch as he tucks his thumb against his palm and carefully pushes all five fingers inside you, stretching you out more than anyone has ever done before.
“Oh my god!” You cry out and grab onto his shoulder in an attempt to brace yourself, in an attempt to somehow take control of a situation you have absolutely no control over. Only he doesn’t move, doesn’t relent in the slightest as your velvety walls obey his carnal command by dripping and stretching around him.
“Shhh, darling, you can take it. I know you can.” His praise holds you fast as your flushed chest heaves uncontrollably, forcing your eyes to shut with the excruciating mixture of pain and pleasure. “This is what you were made for.”
Stars suddenly shine blissfully behind your closed eyelids, bursting into life as the somatic shock of his hand brings you to a state of nirvana you’ve only read about in books. Bright whites, yellows and pinks take over in a kaleidoscope of rapture as he glides in at just the right angle, combusting those heavenly bodies into glittering, tingling fireworks that trickle down your spine like burnt up embers in all their immaculate splendor.
You can hear him laugh as you unravel completely, feel his cool breath against your thigh as shockwaves of euphoria follow, sizzling their way through every inch of your sensitive tissue as he pushes his hand in even deeper. Fuck! A low, guttural growl rumbles in your throat as you take him down to his wrist, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm squirts out of you, soaking his wrist and the chair beneath you. He pulls his hand out and pushes it back inside, twisting it around just to hear you groan again as you lose yourself to the euphoric rapture.
”There she is.” He goads you with a voice that only you can hear before gratuitously licking your clit, pushing your body to its limit as he swirls his tongue around and around, nearly driving you mad. ”Stay still for me.”
Louis’ hand in your hair forces your eyes to open as Armand suddenly buries his fangs into your sex, biting down on that sensitive spot he’s been licking, almost as if he’s been softening it up. Without flinching, you watch in awe as he dines on your flesh, pupils dilating in utter fascination as he drinks down the primal concoction of fluids that pours out of your body, his hand still tucked tightly in the warmth of your walls as you shudder and convulse around him.
Louis silently watches his partner eat you out, grinning as you writhe in your masochistic fit of passion, hips bucking up against his maitre’s face like the wild animal that you are. He hums to himself and blithely strokes your hair, taking his time to sweep it onto your opposite shoulder before leaning in close enough for his natural aroma to surround you.
You manage to turn your head toward the smoky bourbon scent, trying to continue this salacious chain reaction between the three of you. But instead of kissing you like you expected, he simply grabs your jaw and sinks his fangs deep into your throat.
Sharp. Cold. Brutal.
Louis’ bite tears through you, stinging for just a second before his tongue brushes over your exposed flesh, lapping up the blood that immediately spills out of your vein and into his mouth. Something in his saliva must somehow be easing the pain, dulling it to a tolerable throb on its way down your neck before it shifts into something utterly euphoric. The sensation of both men drinking from you is absolutely divine, dizzying your equilibrium as they both latch on even harder, their grips tightening with each passing second.
“You taste just as good as you smell.” Louis’ voice enters your mind like a faint whisper, his words just as hungry as his tongue as they settle into the base of your skull.
You smile in response, but your vision begins to blur, to darken around the edges as both vampires continue drinking their fill, stifling the spasms that could well have been your second orgasm. You try to speak up to prevent them from taking any more, try to push them off of you as your body grows weaker by the minute, to save yourself in some last ditch effort. But it’s no use. There’s not enough blood to perfuse your already weakened muscles, not enough breath in your lungs to speak or even grumble against them. Shit! They're going to drain you until there’s nothing left. They’re going to drink until you’re dead! But all you can do now is silently plead with your hosts to stop what they’re doing and spare your life, to keep you as you are. Alive. But those silent cries seem to fall on deaf ears, the monsters consuming you far too lost in their own bloodlust until… you’re suddenly tasting a warm, wet rush of iron and salt.
Blood.
“Drink,” Louis whispers into your ear as he shakily presses his wrist against your lips. “Drink now or die.”
You open your mouth and swallow it down without question, without even really tasting it. Like a glass of cool water on a hot summer’s day, you consume mouthful after mouthful out of sheer necessity until flashes of New Orleans at the turn of the century suddenly appear. As if you’re looking straight through Louis’ beautiful emerald eyes, you see distinct images of Spanish moss, church steeples and the red lights. You feel the loss of his brother and the lustful pull toward Lestat, his memory only sharpening the image you’ve cooked up of him in your mind. You see Claudia being turned after the fire, the justified betrayal of Lestat during Mardi Gras, and then… Armand and the coven appear in post-war Paris, ultimately ending the familial tug you can’t help but feel toward the young vampiress.
It’s only moments after you’ve consumed at least a liter of his blood that you consider slowing down as images of San Francisco, New York and Dubai begin to take shape in your head. Their glittering city skylines, bridges and people melt into one another like a fresh painting on canvas left out in the rain, leaving nothing but a messy memory in its wake. Once you’re satisfied that you’ve taken enough to save yourself from an untimely demise, you pull back just a little, the aftertaste of chicory, bourbon and citrus still lingering on your tongue.
He tastes almost as good as Armand.
“That’s enough, cher, that’s enough.” Louis pulls his wrist from your lips and strokes your hair once more before letting your weakened body lazily slump forward, colliding into Armand’s chest.
Armand.
Daniel’s protests echo far off in the distance as Armand’s hold on him finally wears off. But you don’t turn to look at him, don’t care to see his reaction after all that’s just transpired. Instead you nuzzle your face into Armand’s shoulder, memorizing his intoxicating scent again as you listen to the slow and steady beating of his heart. How could he be so calm at a time like this? You feel the vibrations of his voice reverberate off the bones in his chest as he utters a single word to Daniel, stopping him in his tracks. Rest.
“You did so well for us, darling,” Armand whispers into your hair before planting a single chaste kiss onto your crown, a kiss of ownership.
“Yeah?” Is all you can mutter as you feel your heart rate begin to pick up, the combination of their blood rapidly flowing through your body as it reanimates the neurons and muscles in your extremities like the monster in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.
Is this what they felt like all the time? Lighter? Faster? Extremely alert? You turn your head to see Daniel paused mid-stride on his way toward you, a feeble yet admirable attempt to save you from these ‘monsters’, from your makers.
“Now you’re one of us.” Louis whispers, still behind you with a hand on your lower back. “Now you’ll be able to ‘see’ for all eternity.”
“Oh, don’t worry about Daniel, darling, he’ll be perfectly fine. We just couldn’t have him interfering with your turning, now could we?” Armand scoffs and pulls back enough to lift your chin with the same fingers that were previously inside you, still slick with the culmination of your arousal. He takes another moment to look at you properly, to run his hands through your hair and cradle your face, his thumbs stroking your now porcelain cheeks. “Louis’ eyes,” he whispers to himself with a soft smile, almost as if he can’t believe it. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.”
You're Daniel's research assistant in Dubai, but Armand's caught onto who you really are...
Warnings: Dubious Consent, Power Imbalance, Magic, Crystals, Dreams, Premonitions, Vampires, Witches, Telepathy, Torture, Migraines, Sexual Fantasies, Degradation, Mentions of BDSM, Blood Drinking, Oral Fixation, Finger Sucking, Mind Control, Forced Intoxication, Manipulation (It’s Armand, okay?!)
Word Count: 3.3k+
Read Part II
“Obsidian,” Armand starts slowly, “Quite an interesting choice for a journalist.” His words are laced with a sultry dose of venom as he eyes you up and down, those fiery orbs of his practically glowing as they focus on the bracelet dangling around your wrist. His voice is so much smoother, so much silkier now that he’s finally shed that ridiculously timid facade of ‘Rashid’.
Now his cards are all on the table.
“It’s just a bracelet," you deflect with a subtle shift in your seat, eager to direct his attention back to Daniel as you hold your pen at the ready, clearing your throat.
“And that hematite crystal dangling around your neck? Just a tiny little trinket you found in the airport, no doubt?” He raises an eyebrow, elegantly resting his chin in his palm as he leans forward to get a better look at your pendant. “The peddlers there often sell cheap imitations to gullible tourists like yourself. Best to hand it over and let me inspect it.”
Uh oh. He knows.
“Uh, no, that’s okay, I didn't get it from the airport. It was a gift from my grandmother,” you tell him, biting your tongue after realizing that you’ve already said too much.
“Your grandmother, hmm?” He grins, pupils dilating as they hone in on the stone, or quite possibly your bounding pulse. “How terribly wholesome.”
All it takes is a tiny smirk and you can feel him, a rising pressure in the back of your head, a dull ache creeping around your skull, squeezing its contents until it settles right between your eyes, forcing you to screw them shut. It feels as if your head is being split open, as if your brain is being torn apart by invisible hands ripping their way through each section piece by piece until your breath falters to a miserable groan.
You blindly reach for the glass of water next to you, careful not to knock it over before chugging down all eight ounces in hopes of staving off the migraine that’s imminently throbbing in your veins. You cover both eyes with your hand to prevent any further light from entering, but it’s no use. You can already see the beginnings of an infernal aura forming behind the shadowy darkness of your eyelids no matter how hard you hold them shut.
Fuck!
“What are you doing to her?!” You can hear Daniel defend you quickly, his familiar voice rich with anger as the sound of silverware clinks against a plate, making your pain even worse. But his words are barely above a hazy whisper, sounding as if he’s somehow extremely far away, off in another room.
Shit. You need Tylenol, caffeine, and a dark room to lay down in. But you’re willing to bet your hosts won’t be that eager to give you any of those just yet.
“It wouldn’t hurt so much if she would just let me in.” Armand taunts from his seat across the table, somehow clear as a bell amidst the raging chaos in your head.
Daniel scoffs. “Let you in? That’s what this is about?” Another clink of metal on porcelain rings in your ears, bringing your shoulders up to your face as your eyes begin to water. “Hey, when I told you to get out of my head, I didn’t mean for you to go into hers!”
“What?” You open your eyes and manage to glare at Armand, his white shirt searing itself into your optic nerve as it brightens the intensity of the aura. That crescent moon configuration of jagged little shapes and iridescent colors makes you wince as it perfectly frames his dark features like some sort of psychedelic angel from hell. “What did you just say?”
“We invited you here into our home, fed you, sheltered you from the elements, and in turn you continue to shield yourself from us, to lie to us about who you really are. You’ve blocked us out with your ancient relics when we’ve been nothing but transparent with you.” He actually has the nerve to sound offended.
“Says the vampire who pretended to be human this whole time,” you mutter through clenched teeth, trying to curb the wave of nausea that always comes next as the room begins to spin, churning the half digested contents of your stomach.
He doesn’t like that.
He simply smiles at your comment, his jaw clenching ever so slightly before he pulls his hand from beneath his chin, taking an unnecessary breath. “I had to see who you were when you thought no one was watching. But your wards have prevented me from doing so.”
“Yeah, how does it feel?” You hiss, closing your eyes again as his efforts increase, the agony inside forcing you to hold your head in both hands now, resting your elbows on the table as you subconsciously begin to rock back and forth. The aura shines so bright now that closing your eyes no longer provides any reprieve at all, forcing tears to stream down your cheeks as you cover them tighter in a futile attempt to soothe your frantic nervous system.
Gods, he’s going to kill you.
“Arun,” Louis eventually scolds his partner, easing your pain as the aura immediately dulls. “That’s enough. She’s still our guest.”
“Apologies, maitre,” Armand’s tone softens along with your anguish, stilling the unrest in your belly and soothing the violent storm inside your mind.
After a few long moments, you’re finally able to open your eyes, slowly looking at Louis with a simple nod of gratitude before warily turning back to face Armand. He’s holding out his palm like a disappointed father who’s caught his child smoking in the bathroom, waiting for you to hand over a stolen package of cigarettes.
“Let’s have it, then.” The fucking audacity on this guy.
You glance over at Daniel who gives you a defeatedly solemn nod, his pale blue eyes glistening with the sorrow of seeing you hurt and the futility of any further rebellion. He may not know the full gravity of what Armand is asking of you, but he silently encourages you to do it anyway. You both know you’d be a fool not to. So you take a deep breath and reluctantly remove your jewelry of your own free will, tentatively placing it into his hand.
“There’s a good girl.” Armand practically purrs as you comply with his request, grinning as if he’s just won the lottery. His eyes stay on you, watching as his words spike tiny little pinpricks onto the back of your neck before languidly folding his fingers around the crystals. He takes his time placing them into his pocket, gloating as if they had rightfully belonged to him this entire time. As if you somehow belonged to him, too. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”
That godforesaken aura has now completely disappeared, the pounding in your head finally quieted, allowing you to focus on his perfectly smug features. He’s enjoying this way too much.
“Her jewelry? Really? You sent her into a debilitating fucking migraine because you don’t like her bracelet? After you stopped Louis from exacerbating my Parkinson’s the other day?” You can hear Daniel much better now, the bitter edge of outrage more pronounced in his words as your body continues to regulate itself.
“You’d be surprised at how much power a simple crystal can hold, Mr. Molloy, especially when carried by a witch who knows how to harness it.” Armand stares at you the whole time he’s speaking to Daniel.
“A witch?” Daniel laughs, his entire upper body shaking with the motion. “A witch? She might be one of those new age hippies, but she’s not a…”
“I thought you smelled like home,” Louis interjects, cutting Daniel off almost immediately. “Like old sage and incense, like incantations long forgotten in the quarter.” He regards you with a soft, kind smile, allowing you the small comfort to give him one back. At least he isn’t threatened by your mere existence. “Now I know why you feel so familiar. You have family down in New Orleans, don’t you? A brother?”
You nod.
“Not just any witch, but a seer,” Armand takes the reins back from Louis and leans forward, resting his chin on his hand again as he looks deep into your eyes, those golden irises burning into your very soul. “That explains the birthmark just above your eyebrow. How utterly fascinating.”
Louis shoots Armand a warning glance that stills the air in the room, almost as if he’s fearful of the tone he’s using, but his partner pretends not to notice.
“Am I missing something? Was I absent the day they went over seers in vampire school? What the hell is a seer?” Daniel grumbles, flipping through his notes in between glances at you and Armand.
“It’s not that big of a deal, I just have dreams that come true sometimes.” You inform him, not wanting to oversell your gift. “That’s all.”
“Oh, it’s much more than that,” Armand coos. His eyes narrow as he begins actively sifting through your mind like a catalog full of precious memories, picking and choosing which ones he likes best. It doesn’t hurt anymore, but you can still feel him, feel the weight of his undeniable presence in your head.
“Care to elaborate?” Daniel looks at each of you, hoping for something, anything to give him more context for Armand’s increasing interest in you.
“Your friend Adrian got into a car accident exactly where you said he would because he wouldn’t take your warning seriously.” Armand begins compiling his burden of proof as Daniel’s mouth hangs open in shock. “Your own father had a heart attack on Christmas morning after blatantly ignoring your gift. Your ex boyfriend James slept with his secretary when you went away on that family trip just like in your nightmare. And that storm you dreamt of last year took out the electrical grid for an entire week, just as you predicted. Luckily for you and your little gift of foresight, it gave you just enough time to prepare.”
Both Daniel and Louis are stunned into silence as they take in the accuracy of your dreams, watching with rapt attention as they wait for you to respond.
But Armand takes charge again, leaning so far forward that you fear he might cut himself in half on the sharp edge of the stone table. “I wonder what else that pretty little head of yours has dreamt of.”
Heat blooms across your cheeks and into your core as his tone shifts from scolding to seductive, forcing you to look down in an attempt to avoid his hungry stare. He can’t be serious, can he? His romantic partner is sitting there right next to him, for Christ’s sake! But before you can argue with yourself any further, an invisible hand squeezes your jaw and forces you to look up at him, immobilizing your entire upper body.
Oh great, another one of his tricks.
This pain is different, it's more aching than searing. More tears involuntarily stream down your face as he holds you hostage, the salty liquid dripping down your cheeks and into your mouth as you press your lips together. Gods, you should never have agreed to come here with Daniel.
“Show me.” His command is stern, final.
Having no other clear choice, you actively remember the dream you had of him the night before you left for Dubai. You recall seeing his beautiful face in the solitude of your slumber, hearing that voice of his melt down your spine like slow hot honey as he held you in his arms. You couldn’t quite decipher his words then, but you knew that they were comforting on some level as he cradled your head and stroked your hair inside the confines of these cold, concrete walls. You remember the dark gray shirt that he was wearing, how the first few buttons of it were undone, exposing his mocha colored skin to your cheek as it rested against his chest.
But that was it, you had no other context for the dream, no way of knowing who he was then or how you’d end up in his embrace; no other clue if he was going to kiss you or kill you. Your money is on the latter. Sometimes your dreams reveal a lot, like the locations and events he just mentioned out loud before. But other times they’re just flashes of sights, sounds and… sensations.
Armand laughs under his breath, parting his lips as if he’s contemplating saying something else, but then stops himself short with a tilt of his head, staring past you now.
“So, what was the dream?” Daniel asks snidely as Armand and Louis silently read your mind.
“So that’s what you’ve been hiding,” Armand starts again after a heavy static silence that nearly solidifies the air in the room, his lips curling into a devilish grin. “Oh, those are some dark fantasies, darling.”
What?!
Your tears nearly crystallize on your skin as your cheeks burn again with a deep wave of shame, unsure of exactly which fantasies he might be referring to. Can he see absolutely everything now? Every lover you’ve ever been with and every position they’ve put you in? Every website you visited late at night when you merely dreamed of doing half the depraved things you saw on the screen before rubbing yourself into a slack jawed stupor?
“You’ve thought of each of us, really? Even Daniel?” He laughs softly to himself, standing up and suddenly appearing at your side with unnatural speed and grace, jolting you into sitting completely upright. He grabs the back of your chair and turns you to face him, watching your eyes darken with malicious satisfaction.
Gods, he smells good.
“Greedy girl,” he continues to tease you. “He thinks of you too, you know. Sometimes late at night, wondering what it would take to make you come, if he could get you to moan his name while you came undone beneath him,” he pauses, as if imagining the two of you together before starting again. “But your thoughts of each other remain rather mundane, I’m afraid. I’m vastly more interested in what you think about when you look at me, what you continue to deny yourself day after day. Year after year when those boys back home and your precious little toys can’t keep up. Leather and lace, collars and cages, danger and degradation… it’s absolutely deplorable.” His smile is positively feline. “No wonder you dreamt of me, Seer. You came here because you wanted to finally feel something, to see if you still can.”
All you can do at this point is nod as his words stir something forbidden deep within your core, drawing out the inevitable moisture between your thighs as it slicks your heated center. You can’t help but imagine him tying you up and having his way with you, fulfilling every last erotic fantasy that’s ever crossed your mind in the wee small hours of the morning. But at what cost? Your eyes slide over to Louis to see if he will interject this time, if Armand’s antics have finally pushed his partner to the brink of madness, but he seems to be paused mid-motion, as if he’s somehow frozen in time. Daniel must be, too.
How is he doing this?!
“You want me to hurt you, don’t you? You like the pain, crave it, even. But that’s not what I’m going to do to you.” He grabs hold of your chin and makes you look up at him, his voice dripping with promise. “Not yet. First I’m going to help bring clarity to that little gift of yours.”
“What?” You mutter, still afraid to say the wrong thing as his grip tightens on your face. “You’re going to help me? But I thought…” You aren’t exactly sure what you thought at this point, if you’re being honest.
“Your power is quite remarkable, Seer. It’s ancient and unique, but has dwindled in and out of your bloodline over the centuries.” He brings his opposite hand up to his mouth, sucking on his first two fingers before biting down hard enough to draw blood with one of his fangs.
What is he doing?
“You’re nothing but a witch without a coven.” He presses his other hand against the hinges of your jaw, thumb and forefinger squeezing tight. “Open,” he commands your mouth as wide as it can go before pushing his bloody fingers inside, dripping a few ruby dots onto your chest in the process.
What the fuck?!
You don’t fight it, can’t fight it as his long, slender fingers glide past your lips. The cool, smooth texture of his skin is a surprisingly welcome sensation as you instinctively hollow your cheeks out around his fingers, choosing to savor the intimacy after everything he's put you through tonight. The warmth of his blood actually does taste like pineapple and honey, the more prominent flavors of salt and iron somehow balanced out by their rich sweetness as they generously coat the surface of your tongue.
“A student without a teacher,” he continues, his other hand releasing your jaw and drifting down to your neck as he watches you swallow your first taste of his immortal blood. “A lost soul looking for guidance, but you can be so much more than that.”
You look up at him with wide eyes as you listen, wrapping your lips around his knuckles while you take his fingers deeper inside your mouth with each delicious word that leaves his lips. His blood spills down the back of your throat now, forcing your saliva to pool around the corners of your mouth and drip down your chin in the process, merging with your dried tears as you try to keep up.
“That’s it, darling, take as much as you need,” he whispers, his own chest heaving slightly as you suck the blood out of his digits like your life depends on it.
You swallow another heady mouthful, and all of the sudden you begin to feel very strange. Everything about your body feels lighter and brighter, tingling with a jovial sense of wonder you can’t quite explain as waves of bliss fizzle down the length of your extremities. You almost feel high as Armand’s grip on your throat tightens with each languid push and pull of his fingers across your tongue. You begin to notice the figures in the paintings behind him as they appear to be moving on their own, the patterns in the furniture floating through space and time like seaweed on the ocean floor.
And his eyes, holy shit, his EYES! The horrific colors in his eyes seem to actively swirl together in beautiful pools of molasses and gold as he bends down at the waist, bringing his face closer to yours. You can smell the sandalwood on his skin and the oil in his hair now, his signature scent intoxicating you almost as much as the look on his face as he watches his fingers enter your mouth again and again.
“What you need is a maitre.” He pulls his fingers down and out across your bottom lip, tugging on it one last time as a trail of bloody spit still connects him to you before he shoves them into his own mouth, humming as he sucks the flavor off of them.
“A maitre?” You can see the dark aura surrounding him now, can feel the ominous intent radiating out of him and extending out, wrapping its tendrils around your body now that you’ve swallowed enough of him down.
“You feel that, little witch? That's my blood enhancing your magic, making you see things you never thought possible. Now, let’s get you to really start dreaming.”
Spencer becoming addicted to drugs, his schizophrenia getting worse.. hmm you might be onto something
Oh, Armand would eat that up! Show up to his meetings, make his cravings worse, give him a shoulder to cry on as he slowly unravels, get into his head and erase/change things… All while Spencer and the BAU are looking for this “vampire killer” he doesn’t actually believe in.
Random thought, but in another universe, I think Armand would really fall in love with Spencer Reid’s beautifully dark mind. The game of cat and mouse would be astounding.
“Daniel stared hard at the creature before him, this thing that looked human and sounded human but was not. There was a horrid shift in his consciousness; he saw this being like a great insect, a monstrous evil predator who had devoured a million human lives. And yet he loved this thing”
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