The mechanics of this touch shift from the coaxing of muscle to relax and the slicking of flesh, to the pursuit of something a little more deliberate. Watching Daniel with unearthly intent as fingers stroke, prod, feeling the temptation of hot-tightness like a hand on his cock. A small breath of a laugh, a show of teeth. No fangs. No blown out pupils.

But humanlike desire, forcing his mouth to part, his eyes to hood. Good, he thinks. Progress being made, on finding out what Daniel likes. In general, or with him. What he might learn he likes. If Armand had his fangs in him, maybe he could pick up on that little hint of nervousness.

Thinks he can, anyway, and it doesn't feel unwelcome. Maybe there will come a time when he no longer makes Daniel nervous. He should enjoy it while it lasts.

Slowly, easing his fingers out, letting himself be felt as he does so. That hand immediately straying to his own cock, squeezing himself near the base, a checking kind of action. Daniel, laying open and willing to him, letting him have it all. Strokes himself, and replaces that previous twinge of his fingertips with the blunter presence of the head of his cock, rubbing himself there as he shifts to balance over Daniel, a hand braced by his shoulder.