It's nice to exist in a space where nothing else exists. No one else. Armand is not entirely certain he has felt that before, if the elusive bond itself is to blame, or something else, something changed in him, nothing left to lose but the person who is ushering him into a kiss.

He hasn't put much thought into what he does or does not deserve. The answer is nothing, obviously, which makes the question useless. Earned is more compelling, more fair, but the matter of being deserving feels like an inaccessible alternate dimension, a question for people who aren't him, subject to higher judgment. There has, however, been a kind of jealous rebellion in his occupation of Daniel's focus.

And here, it eases, as Daniel touches him, as Armand's skin tingles in the wake of stroking fingers. Daniel, feeling his heart beat, his lungs inflate and deflate. Touches his mouth, and they kiss each other again.

Isolating. It feels good not to be tethered to a bunch of fucking people, and no one he has to manage. His fledgling is a terrible student in the best way.

Considers that little hesitation he had sensed, sharply attuned. There is a pleasing strip of bare skin above Daniel's waistband, and now he gets his fingers up under the hem, lets the fabric catch against his knuckles and wrist and draw up a little more as he smooths a flat hand over Daniel's belly, to his sternum. The faint scratch of nails, followed by gentler palm.