Armand in the sun, the summer head of Daniel's memories (what a thing, putting him in more memories) in a flimsy white t-shirt, fraying cut-off denim shorts that would be too short by today's prudish fashion standards, everything made half-transparent by sweat. A nice thing to picture.

Nicer, the teasing attention to his arousal, which makes him hiss. Ah, it's good, though.

"Do you like it?"

Sensitivity. Needles. The itch of nails. The initial poke of teeth.