#fic:our house

[hekateinhell]

you already know why i’m here. our house chapter seven please please please i’m nothing

I do know LMAO. As soon as I wrote it, I knew if anyone asked for it, it was going to be you. 🥹 So this would have been the immediate next chapter after what's already up on ao3. I started writing this version I think September 2022 and I just never continued?

We've seen Armand explore his feminine side and his relationship to that a bit already, so in this chapter, I wanted to focus on his more masculine side just for a minute. I also wanted to illustrate a bit of their lives outside of each other. I'll just put everything I have in the doc here, just for you! ♥️

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Well, I think it’s cute,” Daniel bent down to press a kiss to Armand’s scruffy cheek, the first time in four years he’d ever actually seen the product of Armand forgoing shaving for an entire week.

It took a moment’s getting used to; not quite a five-o-clock shadow anymore, not quite a beard yet, darker than the auburn on his head by a couple tones.

Armand sighed, shifting so that his lips caught Daniel’s, more touching, resting in place, than kissing. “I wish you could work home from today,” he whispered. “I keep thinking something’s going to happen. I know I’m crazy but…” Armand trailed off, his forehead coming to rest against Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel gently rubbed his back, feeling the tension he was carrying.

“I know, baby,” hard for Armand not to be tense these days, given everything. “It’s a short day for me, and then I’ll meet you at Dr. Lydia’s at 3:30?”

He tangled his fingers through Armand’s wild hair, trying to soothe him as if he were one of the cats. Armand hadn’t felt the house in a week, and it showed. Decided he could delegate the physical tasks to a temp and do everything else virtually.

Daniel didn’t think it was depression, exactly. Armand certainly seemed happy and animated whenever Daniel was around. He still showered, ate, and slept. His appetite, in regards to food and sex, was as healthy as could be. He wasn’t starved for company either; in fact, Daniel hadn’t come home to an apartment with less than five people in it all week.

Some people he knew well, some he didn’t. Bianca, Laurent, Felix, Santiago. Armand’s European friends. As soon as Daniel’s key turned in the lock, the crew cleared out with an overlapping chorus of hellos and goodbyes — did nobody work anymore? Daniel had asked and Armand had shrugged and said, “They get by, I suppose.” Then he hurled himself at Daniel, demanding to be carried to the bedroom for a pre-dinner romp.

It seemed to Daniel he was getting laid a lot lately. There had always been a disparity in their libidos, once the honeymoon phase wore off. And to be fair, when they’d met, Daniel was trying and failing at AA and snorting conspicuous amounts of coke to compensate. He might as well as have been on Viagra those first three months. Set some very unrealistic expectations, bit of false advertising and all that.

They hadn’t clued right away after he’d started NA, because for the first time in his life, this wasn’t a relationship he wanted to escape from. He wanted to do better, see what might happen if he showed up as his best, sober self.

Only Armand’s whining and bouncing on his lap, overlappingly sleep-deprived and aroused because Daniel’s been fucking his brains out since midnight and it was 3 AM and couldn’t they go one more round please oh please? Just like last time and the time before that and the time before that!

What was different tonight?

It had been so weird to say, looking down at his limp dick that was doing most of the talking as it was, “It doesn’t wanna work, babe, I don’t know what to tell you.” Hadn’t run into this problem in years.

Armand gave him a childish pout that Daniel was sure was more real than fake. He’d rolled off him and curled by his side, pressing his face against Daniel’s neck. Giggling when he said, “I ought to give you a hickey,” like they were teenagers.

“Go for it.”

He did, sucking hard at the skin on Daniel’s throat, subconsciously and then not-so-subconsciously humping Daniel’s hip until he finished a fourth time with a low, deep moan, finally satiated and worn out.

Lucky it was January, seeing as Daniel had to wear turtlenecks for the next two days after Armand had massacred him. The little vampire.

“I’m not sure I can keep up with you,” he’d mumbled over the cereal the next morning.

“What are you talking about?” Armand’s smiling at him, having opted to bring his chair beside Daniel’s instead of staying at the opposite end.

It hurt a bit to say, “What if I can’t keep with you, like with your sex drive, and you just get bored of me?”

“You can’t be serious!” Armand laughed before the look on Daniel’s face stopped him cold. “Danny,” he reached for Daniel’s much larger hand, intertwining their fingers and pressing their palms together.

“Danny, look…” He stared down at the granola in front of him, as if it might grant him the strength to get through what he was about to say. “I like you. I am a lot, I know that! But I don’t need you to ‘keep up with me’. I’m perfectly capable of keeping up with myself.”

#ask game! #i’ll answer all of these i promise school is just kicking my butt! #armand/daniel #fic:our house