Daniel should get spooked. Armand is spooky. Flavors of haunting, of witches, of demons. But all those things are alluring, too. A past that still wants to keep you company, and the seductive nature of the dark, and magic. Even if it's scary, who doesn't want to reach out and touch all of that?

Particularly when all of that is naked and pressed against him, kissing him, rubbing and shifting and finding nice ways to braid their limbs together. He hums something into Armand's mouth, not really an answer; easy agreement. Yeah, he doesn't spook. No more nerves around Armand, except for when it's adrenaline, like being on a rollercoaster just before the drop. Terror, excitement, fucked up glee. Louis would be disappointed to see all the souvenir pictures of Daniel stuck in Armand's Wild Ride, smiling over and over with each rotation.

Sensual and cozy, erotic, strange. Daniel lets his hands roam, petting wherever their enmeshing movements take him. His initial concerns with bringing sex into their complicated disaster of a connection, his stubborn insistence that there be no foundation of the curse of maitre, seems insignificant. None of that matters, because none of that's here. It's just skin, warm from blood, mouths and the prickle of hair, of teeth. Daniel's fangs are there for a few moments, then not, indecisive, but he's barely conscious of it.