"Yeah," again, but less of a word, a breath, a sound.

Here, Armand would ask: may I? Do you want me to? But Daniel has been clear, the limits (or lack thereof) of his permission, and the idea of just having thickens the blood in his veins, makes his mouth sting bright in the wake of teeth. He thinks he can hear Daniel's heart beat quicker.

It has, likewise, been decades since he fucked anyone. Where the careful dynamic maintained itself between himself and Louis allowed for deviation, such instances were rare, and only became rarer. Armand hadn't minded (or cared), but he considers it now, his own want, an intrusion of desire.

They could talk about that too. Maybe they will. Not now.

"I want you on your back," he says. "So I can look at you."

Maybe his eyes will change a whole new colour.