Daniel allows that in turn, finger barely trembling, neck prickling at the sensation, dick giving an interested twitch when he meets plush moisture, a little warmer than he would have expected — but then there has to be blood moving around in there, even moreso than Armand's delicate wrist, after talking for so long.

But what the fuck does he know about bodies, or vampires? His expertise is in pulling out ribbons of narrative. This is a classic one, he's gotta admit, even if he's a bit too old to be a convincing Bella Swan.

"That's good," he says, trying to sound in control, ludicrously. If he had any actual control over this situation he'd make Armand keep telling him about cities until the sunrise startled him to bed.