[ The power of a vampire remains known only to him by the word of others alone; the description of predator and parasite, neither alive nor dead piques his interest. Sparks a flurry of embers behind his ribs, like he ought to learn-know-remember more that he cannot actively draw to the surface of the dark, vast sea of his existence. Armand says they are not natural beings, and certainly, they usurp the natural order of things ( life, to death, to rebirth ) — but, as someone who once broke that same cycle over his knee, how he is to spurn such creatures?

Especially when they come to him, sweet-mouthed and devoted, upon knees and speaking words that he both craves to hear, and to tear from mouths of others.

Paper falls from his fingers, discarded across the surface of the vanity without second thought. Let it fall to the floor if he misses the table, for all he cares. Let the subtle chaos and destruction within his room be added to, as he uncrosses his ankles and presses up to full height, from where he's been leaning. ( He would not say, at this point in time, that he like-likes men, not the way others within the manor do, but it would be a lie to say he does not enjoy the sight of men on their knees. ) ]

Let's not waste either of our time, hm?

[ He steps forward, fingers light upon the plane of the other's cheek. Stroking the side of a nail down to Armand's jaw, to curl fingers, one, two, four, along the underside of his chin. To bend at the waist sends his hair, a curtain of red silk, to fall across Armand's face as he tips it up as if to turn a flower toward the sun. He needs. Set can provide. ]

You may sate yourself upon me, however you need. I will get what I want from you, as well.