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It takes a while for the shrill ring of the telephone to properly penetrate Daniel's sleep, and when it does it's like emerging from a coffin into sunlight.
"Ugh," he groans, slapping a hand over his eyes to keep out the morning light streaming through the window. He had a big night last night, took advantage of Armand's absence to hit the casino.
The ringing stops abruptly, and Daniel breathes a sigh of relief. He rolls over to go back to sleep, but then it starts again, hardly missing a beat, this time vibrating noticeably against the bedside table with each increasingly aggressive ring.
He sighs unhappily and rolls again, towards the phone this time, then reluctantly pulls it off the cradle and tucks it under his chin.
"Armand," he says grumpily. "I was asleep."
There's a pause and a crackle of static on the line, and then a soft, silky voice breathes his name. "Danny?"
Daniel narrows his eyes. That's a different tone than Armand usually uses on the phone, preferring to practically shout into it as if hoping to pierce the eardrums of the lucky recipient. He doesn't quite seem to believe that Daniel can hear him just as well as he can hear Daniel, no matter how far apart they are.
"Armand?" Daniel asks, suddenly unsure of exactly what is happening here.
"Mmm, yes, Danny," Armand purrs, and it is far too early for Daniel to be dealing with this.
"Armand," he says sternly, "what—"
"I bet you're a big boy, aren't you Danny?"
Daniel sighs as he sits up gingerly, hoping his stomach contents are going to stay where they are.
"Armand," he says again, trying to be assertive but just sounding weary instead. "Stop this right now or I'll hang up the phone."
Another pause, and then a breathy, "Oh, you're a naughty boy, aren't you Danny?"
Daniel groans and slams the phone receiver back down on the cradle.
As soon as Armand gets back from Paris, Daniel bails him up in a corner to question him.
"What the hell was that phone call, Armand?" he asks, still furious despite the few days that have passed.
Armand's orange eyes open wide and fill with a sheen of red. "You didn't like it?" he asks, looking at Daniel like he's just killed Armand's favourite kitten.
"No, I didn't like it!" Daniel yells. "I told you that on the phone!"
Armand covers his face and lets a large sob fall into his delicate hands. He seems to shrink before Daniel's very eyes, morphing from a six-foot-tall, all-powerful ancient vampire into a pathetic, downtrodden, miserable little creature.
Daniel knows this trick by now, of course. They've been doing this for years, playing a cat and mouse game where Daniel is somehow always the mouse, despite his vampire lover's uncanny ability to look weaker than a pinkie when he wants to.
"Armand," Daniel says, feeling his resolve start to soften as Armand's shoulders shake with sobs. Dammit.
He takes a step forward against his better judgement, hands up as if soothing a spooked horse. "It's alright. I just—I need you to listen to me when I say I don't want something, okay?"
Armand continues to sob for a moment, and then peers at Daniel through a gap in his fingers. "Okay," he mumbles. "I suppose I misunderstood. I was just trying…"
Armand heaves in a great breath of air that he doesn't even need, then lets his hands drop from his face. There are bloody tear tracks marring his cheeks, a masterpiece of a painting stained red.
"… I was just trying to give you what you wanted," he finishes in a small voice.
Daniel sighs again and reaches out for Armand's blood-smeared hand, then pulls him away from the corner to the plush green sofa in the sunken living room. Armand comes easily, letting Daniel lead him, though when they sit he chooses to climb onto Daniel's lap instead of taking a place next to him.
"We need to talk about this," Daniel says, even as Armand loops a marble-cold arm around the back of his neck and settles in with his legs to one side.
Armand gives a small, reluctant nod.
"Why did you think I wanted phone sex, Armand?" Daniel asks.
"Because of the film we watched," Armand says, "two days before I left for Paris."
Daniel casts his mind back, trying to remember. They watch films most days they're home together at Night Island, so as not to waste their hideously expensive home cinema with Dolby Stereo.
"Shaft?" Daniel asks, frowning. They've been on a film noir kick lately.
"No," Armand says. "Hustle, I believe it was called."
Ah. That answers one question, but it raises many more. Daniel sighs again, and runs his fingers gently up and down Armand's spine.
"So because it has a character who's a phone sex operator, you assumed I wanted phone sex?"
"You certainly liked the actress enough to lead me to that belief, yes," Armand says with a huff.
Daniel closes his eyes and shakes his head. "You like Catherine Deneuve more than I do, Armand. That makes no sense."
Armand's arm tightens around Daniel's neck. "I admit she holds a certain appeal. But you got angry when Lieutenant Gaines interrupted her telephone call. I naturally took that to mean you supported her line of work."
Daniel's temple throbs.
"I got angry because he was a hypocrite," he says. "Not because I like phone sex. And they're fictional characters, Armand. Not a blueprint for real life relationships."
Armand is silent for a moment. "So you don't like telephone sex?" he asks with a slight wobble in his voice.
Daniel brings his free hand up to rub at his forehead. His headache is getting rapidly worse.
"I don't not like telephone sex," he says, realising that Armand's vocabulary has started to leak into his own. "I think. Actually, I've never done it before. But that's not the point. We need to both be into it if it's going to work. I don't mind trying it out sometime if that's what you want."
"Well," Armand says, shifting his weight in Daniel's lap so it presses more forcefully into his crotch. "If you insist."
Daniel's in his room, waiting for the phone to ring. Armand's been keeping him waiting for what feels like hours, but is probably only minutes. Daniel's getting kind of bored.
They'd decided, after talking it out, to experiment with phone sex while they were both still at home rather than waiting until one of them was away again. Not hard to do in their house, considering Armand had installed telephones in almost every room after Daniel had finally taught him how they work. There's even one next to the bathtub, for a reason Daniel can't fathom.
The phone rings, finally, just as Daniel decides to start idly fondling himself in the hope of getting himself going. He cups one hand over his soft, clothed cock, and answers the phone with the other.
"Hello?" he says.
"Why, hello," Armand replies, and the seductive voice from the last call is back.
"Who's this?" Daniel asks, just to annoy Armand a little. There's a pause, and what could be a ghost of a chuckle.
"Who would you like it to be?"
Huh. Daniel didn't expect Armand to go down the roleplay route. He's not averse to the idea, but considering this is their first time at this he'd rather keep it simple.
"I'd like it to be the Vampire Armand," he says, letting a little bit of brattiness creep into his voice, the way he knows Armand appreciates.
"Well," Armand says. "It's a fortuitous day for you." He's still over-playing it, putting on the voice, so Daniel realises he'll need to be crystal clear about what he wants.
"I'm not sure about that," Daniel says. "I'd like the Vampire Armand to use his normal voice. To talk to me like he would if he were in the room with me."
There's an uncertain pause, and then a rustling sound, and then Armand says, "You don't like my telephone sex voice?"
"I do," Daniel insists. "I just like your real voice better."
There's another pause, and this time Daniel can imagine Armand's cheeks flushing lightly with the compliment.
"Alright," Armand says, reverting to his normal voice finally. "Shall I still call you a big boy?"
Daniel huffs out a laugh. "You can call me big, if you like. I don't mind." He's never pretended not to be vain.
"You are big," Armand says. "Bigger than almost anyone I've been with."
"Yeah?" Daniel asks, his cock twitching under his hand.
"Yeah," Armand says, and then there's a little hitch in his breath.
"Tell me what you're doing," Daniel suggests, biting his lip.
"Hm," Armand replies. "I'm… I'm speaking to you on the telephone."
Well, that's a start, Daniel thinks.
"And I've got one hand under my shirt."
That's more like it.
"Which shirt?" Daniel asks. When Armand had left Daniel's room he'd been wearing a slim-fit chocolate brown button-down, too tight to even fit Armand's slender fingers underneath.
"My, ah—" Armand says. "My black silk chemise. I thought it seemed fitting for the occasion."
Daniel pictures Armand, reclining in his plush coffin, his ample bosom covered in smooth black silk and framed by delicate eyelash lace, his dark curls spilling over his forehead. It's a gorgeous image.
"Yeah," Daniel says as his cock starts to fill. "I'm touching myself just thinking about you in it. Are you touching your tits?"
"Yes," Armand says. "But I'm imagining it's you touching me."
"Are your nipples getting hard?" Daniel asks, clamping the phone between his shoulder and his ear so he can free up his other hand.
"They're hard already," Armand says. "The silk feels pleasurable against them."
"Pinch them for me," Daniel suggests, letting his hand drift over his own nipple. There's an inhale of breath from Armand, and then a small, choked-back moan.
"Feel good?" Daniel asks, rubbing his own nipples more insistently through the soft cotton of his t-shirt. His chest isn't as sensitive as Armand's, but he's finding that the added sensation helps his imagination along.
"Yes," Armand says. "I like it when you play with my nipples."
"I like it too," Daniel says, his breath starting to come slightly faster. "Your tits are magnificent. Better than any girl's."
Armand gives a small whimper. "I wish I could feel your mouth on them," he says. "I like to look down and see you suckling like a babe. It gives me great pleasure."
Daniel pauses for a moment. The image doesn't do anything for him, but Armand seems to like it, so he shrugs and moves on.
"I like to feel your nipples hardening under my tongue," he says, and he can almost feel them now, pebbling up as he licks over them.
"Mmm," Armand murmurs, and then they're both silent except for the rise and fall of their breaths.
Daniel's starting to get a slight crick in his neck, so he adjusts the phone to hold it on the other side, then lets his hands resume their wandering.
"Tell me," Daniel says. "What would you do to me if you were here right now?"
"I would kiss you," Armand says without missing a beat.
"Where?" He shoves a hand down his pants, cursing the tightness of them. He brings his other hand down to unbutton the fly.
"Your mouth," Armand says. "I'd start by being gentle, lulling you into a false sense of security. Kisses sweet and soft."
Daniel's still unbuttoning his fly—why does it need seven buttons?—but he likes where this is going, so he makes a noise of approval. "And then?" he asks.
"Then I'd let my tongue drift into your mouth. I'd enjoy the taste of your vices—red wine and cigarettes after sunset."
"I thought you couldn't taste red wine and cigarettes," Daniel says reflexively. Armand pauses in offense on the other end of the phone, so Daniel says, "Sorry. Keep going."
"I'd live vicariously through the bouquet of flavours on your tongue. You'd try to push into my mouth in return, but I would not let you. I'd nip at you everytime you tried, until your wine-red blood spilled against my lips."
"Jesus," Daniel says. He's got a hand properly on his cock now, and it's leapt to full hardness just with Armand's words and his own touch. He imagines Armand's tongue, cold as an ice block, thrusting into his mouth. Imagines his blood smearing between them.
"And then what?" Daniel asks, his voice cracking slightly. He tries to stroke himself but finds it too dry, so he rolls sideways, phone still perched between his shoulder and ear, to grab the bottle of lube he'd placed on the bedside table.
The phone starts to drop from his shoulder, but he grabs it just in time to hear Armand say, "—your neck. I would let my lips chase the food down your throat. I would lose myself to the rhythm of your lifeblood coursing under your skin."
Armand seems to have hit his stride, and Daniel groans as he grasps his cock with his slicked up hand. He imagines Armand's mouth on his throat, imagines the rasp of his stubble and the soft press of those Cupid-bow lips, imagines him scenting the blood running through Daniel's veins.
"That's so good, Armand." Daniel says. "I'm touching myself just thinking about you. Can you hear it?" he adds, coaxing some loud, sloppy sounds from the slide of his hand on his dick.
"Yes," Armand says, and he's starting to sound as breathless as Daniel feels
"What are you—" Daniel says. "—tell me what you're doing. Please." He doesn't mean to whine, but it just comes out that way.
Armand acquiesces though, and lets Daniel have what he wants.
"I have a hand between my legs," Armand says. "I was pleasuring myself, but now I'm opening myself for you."
"Yeah?" Daniel breathes. "Are you on your hands and knees?" He doesn't know why that image has popped into his head. Armand in his coffin with his rear in the air, wearing nothing but his silky chemise, face tucked into one shapely forearm while the other reaches back to make room for Daniel—to ease his way.
"I can be," Armand says.
"Please," Daniel begs. "Please, boss." They've never fucked that way, not in the coffin, and Daniel has suddenly realised what a gross oversight that is.
There's a few muffled sounds as Armand puts the receiver down and rearranges himself, and then Daniel can hear him breathing fast as he gets the phone back near his mouth. "Alright," he says. "I'm not quite ready for you to enter me. You'll hurt me if you try."
It's a lie, of course, but one that Daniel appreciates in the moment. Armand prefers it to hurt, at least a little bit, and has never had any qualms about taking Daniel's substantial size with minimal preparation, considering he heals almost instantly. But the idea that Daniel could hurt him, that he could have even an ounce of control over this all-powerful creature, is intoxicating.
"That's okay baby, keep opening yourself up," Daniel says as the last of the blood in his brain rushes to his dick. He backs off a bit, slows his strokes until he's just gently palming himself, not wanting to come too soon.
He isn't inside Armand yet, after all.
He reaches down to fondle his balls while he listens to his boyfriend make little moans and sighs and noises of appreciation. "Are you—" Daniel asks. "—how many fingers do you have inside?"
"Two," Armand says, sounding slightly strangled.
"Tell me how it feels," Daniel suggests. His little break has pulled him back from the brink, so he gets some more lube on his hand and resumes stroking his cock while he listens with rapt attention.
"It feels… big," Armand says, "although my fingers are slender. I can't imagine how you'll fit."
Daniel can picture it—Armand bent over with his fingers crammed into his tight hole, perfectly framed by a smattering of dark hair and round ass cheeks. He lets out a loud moan. He's never been good at holding himself back, but now he really lets go, reminds himself that Armand can't see his raging hard cock and the flush on his chest and the lust in his eyes.
"I'm so turned on," Daniel says honestly, and his voice is getting higher with every sentence. "You're so beautiful. I wish I could touch you."
"Touch me," Armand whines. "I want you to. Please touch me."
"Okay, I am," Daniel says, imagining replacing Armand's fingers with his own. "My fingers are thicker than yours, can you feel the difference?"
"Yes," Armand breathes, and there are slick sounds coming down the phone line now, loud enough that they're being picked up by the receiver near Armand's face.
"What do you want next, boss?" Daniel asks, slightly impatient now. "I can't—I don't think I can last much longer."
Armand whimpers. "Then fuck me, Danny. I'm ready for you."
Daniel lets out a strangled noise as he imagines scissoring his fingers one last time and then pulling them out of that cool grasp. He watches Armand's hole closes up without something in to keep it open, then he presses the head of his rock hard cock against the tense muscle.
"I'm pushing in," he says, and he tightens his grip on his own cock at the same time. "I can feel you making way for me, even though you're so tight."
The moan Armand lets out is exquisite, breathy and high-pitched and drenched in sex.
"I can feel you." Armand says. "You're so big, and so warm."
"You feel amazing," Daniel chokes out. "Touch yourself. Touch your cock, please."
"I am," Armand says, "I'm stroking myself with my free hand. I'm so wet, Danny. Hard and wet."
"Armand," Daniel moans, "Baby, please—"
He twists his hand on his cock as he speeds up, no longer in control, no longer able to keep up the charade as he hurtles towards his climax.
"I'm gonna come," he manages to blurt out, and his hand flies over his slick cock as he moans, and then a blinding white light flashes before his eyes and spreads through his body, sending tingles down his spine as he spurts long, hot ropes of come onto his own belly. He lies there for a moment, panting.
As he comes down he realises there are still faint noises coming from the receiver where it's fallen from his shoulder. He picks it up with his free hand, just in time to hear Armand's moans reach their own loud, high-pitched crescendo.
"Yes," Armand whines. "Yes, Danny!" Then there's a strangled moan, as loud as if Armand is right next to Daniel's ear, and Daniel imagines him tensing and shaking as he spurts blood-red cum all over the velvet lining of his coffin.
After they shower and clean up, they snuggle together in the home theatre to watch Dog Day Afternoon. Armand has made Daniel popcorn, and in return Daniel lets Armand sip from his wrist as often as he likes during the 130-minute long film.
"I can't believe," Daniel says afterwards as he gets up to switch off the projector, "we've had phones in the house for two years and we've only just thought about phone sex."
"I liked it a lot," Armand replies. "It was nice to do it without using the Mind Gift."
Daniel freezes. The Mind Gift? Armand's had phone sex using the Mind Gift? Is that even possible? Well, of course it is, he can plant thoughts in somebody else's mind, and hear what they're thinking in return. He doesn't need a goddamn phone to do it at all.
"It's not quite the same," Armand says, even though Daniel's said nothing out loud. "We don't call it telephone sex. We call it mind sex."
"Mind sex?" Daniel asks incredulously, his voice rising. "All this time, you've been hiding mind sex from me? You've just been able to do that with your mind anyway?"
Armand looks slightly wounded. "Of course," he says. "I can do many things with my mind."
"But…" Daniel splutters, staring at Armand where he's relaxing on the lounge, silky chemise slipping to reveal a delectable brown nipple. "Why haven't we then?"
Armand frowns at him. "Mind sex is boring," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "Telephone sex is novel and interesting."
Daniel groans in frustration. "Armand," he says, begging his boyfriend to understand. "To you it might be boring, but to me it sounds like the best idea I've ever heard. And I've never done it before."
"Huh," Armand says, his face softening as he rearranges his chemise for modesty. "Well. Next time, then."
"Yes," Daniel agrees, once again pondering how his immortal boyfriend can be so smart but such as idiot at the same time. "Next time."