Chapter Text
this bar is dead
Damen checks his phone, but Nikandros still hasn’t replied to the text he sent fifteen minutes ago. It’s a Sunday night, so it’s really not that surprising that the bar is dead, and honestly Damen shouldn’t be here either. It’s 10 o’clock already and he has to be at work at 7:30 in the morning, but Kastor had posted a picture of himself and Jokaste – five months pregnant now – relaxing on a beach earlier today and Damen needs to drink away his sorrows. Doing it alone at home feels pathetic, hence the bar. At least here, he has the sympathetic bartender who is willing to listen in hopes of a better tip.
Nikandros is a horrible friend for not joining him.
Damen checks his phone again. He texts Nikandros: youre an awful friend
Nikandros actually texts him back this time. Sorry busy with work. Block Kastor.
i cant he’s my brother
whats going on at work
Brothers don’t steal your fiancée. Block him. I’ll fill you in later. Gotta go. As your boss I have to say don’t come in hungover enough that the kids notice.
Damen sends him a thumbs up emoji back.
There’s a loud scraping sound as someone pulls out the barstool next to Damen. He turns to look. The bar is empty, and surely there’s some kind of social faux pas in sitting right next to someone.
Damen takes it back. The guy who just sat next to him is hot. Really hot, not just whiskey-goggles-hot. Blond hair, pale skin, slim build, wearing slacks and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolls up. He’d set a blazer and satchel down on the empty barstool next him. He looks young, maybe a college student or intern.
The bartender descends on the fresh customer before Damen can say anything.
“Vodka soda,” the man says. “Extra lime.”
“ID?”
He fishes out a wallet from his back pocket and takes the card out. “Thanks Laurent,” the bartender says, pronouncing the T at the end.
Hot bar guy – now dubbed Laurent – gives the bartender a tight smile as he takes his ID back. “Don’t forget the extra lime.”
“That was a truly heinous pronunciation,” Damen says. It’s not his best pickup line ever, but the bartender has given him an opening, he’s two old fashioneds into the night, his brother knocked up his fiancée and they’re on vacation in Greece, and dammit, he’s going to, as the kids in his class say, shoot his shot.
Laurent turns to look at him and raises an eyebrow.
“It’s French, right?” Damen asks.
“Yes,” Laurent says.
“I teach French,” Damen explains.
“Really?” Laurent asks. “You’re not about to say the line from Moulin Rouge and pretend that means you speak the language are you? Because I’ve heard that before.”
Damen switches to speaking French. “I figured I’d at least offer to buy you a drink before asking you to sleep with me.”
Laurent’s look is appraising, gaze sweeping over Damen’s body. “You have high hopes for tonight,” he says, also in French. The bartender returns with his drink and gives them an odd look.
“Well, you did sit down next me, instead of any of the other twenty open seats at this bar. I feel good about my chances.”
Laurent squeezes his two limes into his drink and swirls it a bit with a straw before taking a sip. He keeps his gaze locked with Damen’s while he drinks, and doesn’t break eye-contact as he sets the glass down, swallows, and licks his lips.
“I’ve had a long day at work,” he says. “Buy me dinner.”
Damen signals the bartender to ask for a menu.
- - -
They start kissing in the elevator on the way up to Damen’s apartment. At the door, as Damen’s fumbling with the key, Laurent leans against his back and sucks a hickie beneath his ear.
Damen manages not to drop the keys and gets the door open. He drags Laurent inside, swings the door shut, and slams Laurent back up against it, kissing him hungrily. Laurent tastes like lime from the four vodka sodas he’d downed at the bar. Damen sucks Laurent’s lower lip between his teeth and Laurent’s nails scrape against Damen’s scalp as he tugs at Damen’s hair.
Laurent’s blazer gets in the way as Damen tries to kiss down his jaw, so that winds up on the floor. Laurent scrambles at the buttons of his own shirt, undoing them quicker than Damen could, and soon his shirt lands next to his blazer, leaving just a thin, tight tank top. As soon as his shirt is off he reaches for Damen again, arms winding around his neck and pulling him back down insistently until their mouths meet again.
Damen takes advantage of the new ease of access, one hand sliding around Laurent’s waist, under the tank top, cool against Laurent’s warm skin, and the other slides up the front, until he can roll one of Laurent’s nipples between his fingers. Laurent arches into the touch, back bowing.
Laurent’s tugging insistently at Damen’s t-shirt, and they have to separate for Damen to yank that over his head. He’s back on Laurent the second it’s off, and as he licks his way along Laurent’s throat he can feel the vibration as Laurent asks, “Were you planning to fuck me against the door, or is there a bed in here somewhere?”
Damen pulls back to grin at him. “You like your creature comforts, don’t you?”
Laurent reaches out to tweak the nipple piercing that Damen had gotten on a drunken whim during college. “That’s fun,” he says.
“You have no idea.”
Laurent leans forward, hands cools against Damen’s ribs, and blows over Damen’s nipple. It hardens. Then Damen’s left staring at just the top of Laurent’s blond head as he seals his lips over Damen’s nipple, tongue playing expertly with the piercing as he sucks.
The sensation feels like it has a direct line to his cock.
Laurent pulls away, looking up at Damen with a smirk. “So about the bed…”
Laurent loses his tank top on the way to the bedroom, and both their shoes and pants get left in the hallway. Damen’s not drunk, really. He’s buzzed, pleasantly so, but he feels drunk on Laurent. He can’t keep his hands off him, letting go for only long enough to remove another item of clothing. Laurent seems to feel the same way, if the way he’s clinging to Damen as they stumble down the hall and leaving scratches across his back is any indication. Laurent’s pale skin shows marks easily, and Damen’s mouth has already raised red circles along his neck and collarbones. They might not last, but Damen likes the way they look now.
Damen has a really nice bed. King size, silk sheets, a fluffy duvet. It even has accent pillows. As soon as Laurent sees it he detaches himself for Damen and climbs onto it, proceeding to crawl across it until he reaches the middle. He’s down to just boxer briefs, and Damen is struck momentarily dumb as he stands at the foot of the bed and watches him. Laurent’s ass is exquisite.
Laurent flips around, sitting nearly dead center on the bed. He’s got one leg tucked up next to him, but the other is sprawled out along the sheets. “You’re staring,” he says.
“I think you wanted me to.”
Laurent tilts his head in acknowledgement. “You do have condoms and lube, right?”
Damen gestures towards the nightstand.
Like he’d been hoping, Laurent crawls toward the nightstand to find the supplies. He tosses more than one condom over his shoulder to land on the bed – Damen raises an eyebrow – and then says, “Is this flavored?”
Damen darts around the bed to snatch the lube from him, but Laurent clutches it to his chest. “I have regular stuff,” Damen tells him.
Laurent’s inspecting the label. “It says it tastes like strawberries. Does it?”
Damen doesn’t answer, because Laurent has already uncapped the lube and squeezed some onto his finger. He sticks his finger in his mouth, sucking hard on it, cheeks hollowing.
Damen has a fleeting thought about being in over his head, and quickly dismisses it.
“It’s kind of like strawberry candy,” Laurent says, after pulling his finger from his mouth with a pop . “Not real strawberries.” He sounds disappointed.
“I have normal stuff,” Damen says again.
“No, I like this one,” Laurent says.
Damen leans over nudge the drawer shut before Laurent can keep digging through it.
Laurent raises an eyebrow at him questioningly, and Damen finds himself saying, “Unless you wanted to use the handcuffs?” before he’s quite thought it through.
“Kinky,” Laurent says, with a note of approval in his tone. “But we haven’t even discussed a safeword,” he adds teasingly.
“Mine is pineapple,” Damen says.
That seems to bring Laurent up short. “Pineapple?”
“It’s–“ Damen starts to attempt an explanation, which is rooted in an old in-joke between himself and Jokaste, but finds himself shrugging instead. “Yes.”
Laurent still has a slightly confused look on his face, but just says, “Okay,” and reaches out for Damen. “Come here, you’re too far away.”
Damen steps closer, knees bumping against the side of the bed. “I’m six inches away.”
“Yes, well,” Laurent says, “that’s too far away for me to slather you in this strawberry lube and suck your cock, so you need to be closer.”
Slathering Damen in the strawberry lube, thankfully, involves slathering just his cock. Laurent’s eyes widen a bit when he tugs Damen’s boxers down. The appreciative expressions remains while he uses one hand to slick Damen’s cock with lube – the artificial strawberry scent is going to linger, Damen thinks – but when he glances up and catches sight of Damen’s smirk he shakes his head and pushes Damen away a bit with a shove to his stomach, smearing lube there as well.
“What?” Damen asks, not quite laughing.
“It’s better this way,” Laurent says, flipping over on his back and scooting towards the edge of the bed. Damen catches onto the position he’s going for once he hangs his head off the side of the bed. Laurent’s hair brushes his jawline normally, but like this it hangs nearly to the floor in a sheet of silky gold that Damen can’t seem to look away from. At least not until Laurent reaches out and clasps a hand around his hip, drawing him back in closer.
“Won’t all the blood rush to your head?” Damen asks.
“Mmm hmm,” Laurent murmurs, attention already intent on Damen’s cock.
Damen’s seen this position done in porn before, but never tried it himself with anyone. Jokaste had tried once and said her neck hurt before they’d even gotten started. Laurent doesn’t seem to be having that issue. He’s stroking Damen’s cock with one hand, still slick with the lube, and working his way from the base to the tip with open mouthed, sloppy kisses.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Damen says. “I’m just concerned. I wouldn’t want you to blackout or anything. I mean, this was your idea and as long you’re comfortable with it then I’m comfortable with it. Did you have a safeword? You didn’t say. Do you want to use pineapple too? But if you were choking or something you wouldn’t be able to say it, so maybe we need a hand gesture? Do you know any sign language?”
Laurent pulls back from where he’s been using his tongue to prob at the slit at of Damen’s cock, lifting his head and twisting a bit to meet Damen’s eyes. “Do you always talk this much during blow jobs?”
“No.”
Laurent gives him a long look. Damen tries to smile encouragingly.
“If it’s too much I’ll let you know,” Laurent promises, then he lays back down and wraps his lips around the head of Damen’s cock and sucks hard, and Damen’s not quite sure what they were even talking about anymore.
Laurent is really good at blow jobs. He sucks cock like he’s giving a dissertation on it, throwing in every technique in a methodological way like he’s trying to figure out what Damen likes best, and paying enough attention to how Damen reacts to know which things to repeat and which to leave behind. He returns to tonguing the slit several times, and takes Damen in deep, sucking hard, and with this angle and this position it means that Damen’s cock is sliding into Laurent’s throat. Damen can see the bulge of it through the skin, but Laurent gives little sign that it’s choking him, and if anything seems to be enjoying it for that very reason.
Damen’s not sure what to do with his hands. He winds up bent over a bit, hands fisted in the bedsheets, trying to let Laurent keep setting the pace and not just give in to what he wants and start fucking his face.
“Laurent,” he finally chokes out. “Laurent, I’m gonna--“
Laurent pulls away, gasping for breath and tears leaking from his eyes, one hand wrapped firmly around the base of Damen’s cock. “Don’t,” he gasps out, voice hoarse.
Damen nearly cries himself. Everything in his body feels like it’s been building towards orgasm, only to be brutally denied. He feels completely on edge, and even the cooler air feels torturous against his cock after Laurent’s mouth.
Damen collapses onto the bed bonelessly. He watches as Laurent sits up, tilting his head and stretching his neck, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. His pupils are blown wide and he looks fairly wrecked just from giving a blow job.
Damen pulls on Laurent’s arm, making Laurent fall against him, and keeps pulling on him until they’re at an angle where Damen can kiss him. Laurent tastes overwhelming like strawberry lube, but it can’t quite mask the distinctive taste of pre-cum underneath. It just makes Damen want to kiss him harder.
“I want to fuck you,” Damen tell him, mouths still close enough that Laurent’s breath is warm against his lips.
“I’d never have guessed,” Laurent says, forehead dropping to rest against Damen’s shoulder.
Damen pokes him in the ribs, and Laurent laughs. He rolls over, onto his back, and wiggles out of the boxer-briefs he’s still wearing. Damen’s not sure where they land, somewhere across the room.
With Laurent spread out completely naked on his bed now, Damen feels like he can’t do anything but roll over on top of him, propping himself up above Laurent on his elbows so that he doesn’t crush him.
Laurent hooks his ankles behind Damen’s knees, canting his hips up so that their cocks slide against each other. “Missionary?” Laurent asks.
“Sometimes the basics are good,” Damen says. For once thing, this position makes it very easy to kiss Laurent, and Damen takes advantage of it to lick his way into his mouth again, before trailing a row of kisses down Laurent’s jaw to his neck.
“Oh? I hope you’re going to prove that to me.”
Damen pulls back from where he’s been leaving a hickey low along Laurent’s collarbone. “Is that a challenge?”
Laurent stretches his arms above his head languidly, before waving one wrist like a lord would at a minion.
Damen laughers. “What did you do with the lube?”
“It’s… somewhere around here.”
Damen finds it under a pillow, and sets to work fingering Laurent open. Laurent seems determined to act unaffected by everything, and only creases his brow when Damen strokes a slick finger over his hole, again and again, and barely changes expression when Damen works his first finger in to the second knuckle. At the second finger, Damen finally gives in and asks how it is, and Laurent says, “Adequate.”
“Laurent…” Damen whines.
“Well, you’re not blowing my mind here, Damen.”
Damen pulls his fingers out.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” Laurent says. He starts to say something else, but Damen grasps his hips and flips him over in one move, dropping Laurent back onto the bed on his stomach. “The fuck ?” Laurent demands, squirming to get his arms under him and twisting to look over his shoulder at Damen.
Damen keeps manhandling him, until Laurent’s on his knees, ass in the air.
“What are you doing?” Laurent asks. He sounds suspicious, but he hasn’t told Damen to stop.
“Blowing your mind,” Damen says. Then he leans in, hands spreading Laurent’s ass cheeks wide, and licks over his hole.
“If you wanted to try rimming you could have just said ,” Laurent tells him. “You didn’t have to toss me around like a brute. You could have asked.”
Damen pulls back from where he’s been working both his tongue and one finger into Laurent at the same time. “Do you always talk this much when someone is eating you out?”
Laurent kicks him in the thigh with a heel, and Damen nearly doubles over. “ Shit , that’s gonna bruise,” he complains, using one hand to pin Laurent’s ankle down to the bed.
“Good,” Laurent says. There’s a long pause. “Well, get back to it.” He wiggles his ass, which is still right in Damen’s face, for emphasis.
Damen can’t help it, he laughs. “Yes, your highness.”
In the spirit of trying to blow Laurent’s mind, Damen pulls out all the tricks he knows when it comes to eating ass. He uses his tongue and fingers, working Laurent’s prostate until all he can do is moan, and mixes it up with a loud slap to Laurent’s ass to gets him a sharp glance over the shoulder, but still no order to stop. It takes Damen a bit to work it out, since Laurent won’t say what he actually wants, but, for all his talk and show of bravado, Laurent seems to actually respond the most to the softer touches. So Damen varies his approach. A slap or a harsh twist of his fingers followed by a gentle stroke, a ghosting touch along the inner thigh that makes Laurent shudder.
“Oh, god,” Laurent groans out, as Damen works three fingers over his prostate. “That’s… I need–“ Whatever he’s trying to say dissolves into another moan.
“Yes?” Damen asks, his other hand stroking lightly up Laurent’s back, raising goosebumps in its wake.
“Would you just fuck me already?” Laurent demands.
Damen feels like he’s been hard forever at this point, so he’s more than ready honestly. He pulls his fingers out, gropes around for the condoms that are… somewhere around here.
“Damen…” Laurent groans, head falling forward against the bed. “This is enough foreplay already. Enough .”
“Just– just a second,” Damen says, finding the condoms and getting one on.
“I swear to god,” Laurent’s saying, “If you don’t get your cock in me in the next five seconds I will find someone else in this building who will. Who’s your neighbor? Is he hot? You know what? It doesn’t matter. Does he have a working penis? Because at this point I am–“
Damen lines up his cock against Laurent hole and sinks halfway in with one sharp thrust. Laurent’s voice dissolves into a keening whine. “You talk too much,” Damen tells him, grabbing hold of Laurent’s hips and thrusting again until he’s buried to the root.
Laurent wiggles underneath him. “Come on then.”
Damen pulls out nearly all the way, and slams back in hard enough to bang the headboard against the wall. Laurent’s breath comes out in a pant, hands fisting in the sheets.
“This isn’t–” whatever Laurent is trying to say is interrupted every time Damen slams into him, but he keeps going, “the mind-blowing– aahh missionary– sex I was– oh fuck– promised.”
Damen’s not sure what possesses him to do what he does next, but he’s pulling out of Laurent – Laurent protests, loudly – and using his grip on Laurent’s hips to flip him over onto his back. Laurent lands on with a bounce, air knocked out of him. Damen takes hold of one of his legs, fingers hooked behind his knee, and raises it nearly to Laurent’s chest. With his other hand he lines his cock back up with Laurent’s hole and slams back in.
Laurent shouts so loudly that Damen’s certain his neighbors have heard it. He doesn’t care.
This position is better, Damen decides. This way, he can see that the flush on Laurent’s cheeks spreads all the way down his chest, that his pupils are blown wide and mouth is open as he gasps in pleasure. Damen keeps hold of Laurent’s leg, and braces his other hand on the bed next to Laurent’s face, blanketing him with his body.
Laurent reaches between them, taking hold of his own cock and stroking, not quite in time with Damen’s thrusts. It’s not long before he comes with a groan, head thrown back, and Damen keeps fucking him through it.
As Laurent comes down from his orgasm he says, “Are you even close yet? Or do you just have the stamina of a Greek god too?”
Damen’s out of breath, and he is close, pleasure building inside him until he feels about ready to burst, but he manages to ask, with a gasp, “Too?”
Laurent squeezes down around him, and Damen comes with a shout, falling forward and resting his forehead against Laurent’s chest.
Afterwards, he collapses on his stomach next to Laurent, legs still tangled together, trying to catch his breath. Laurent shoves at his shoulder until Damen rolls over onto his back, then slides in close, head pillowed on his chest and hair tickling Damen’s chin.
“Was that mind blowing missionary sex?” Damen asks.
“Shut up,” Laurent mumbles, slapping him weakly on the stomach.
- - -
It’s still dark when Damen wakes up. Or mostly dark – the light peeking around the curtains is definitely of the pre-dawn quality, which is earlier than his alarm usually goes off. It isn’t until he hears the muffled ringtone coming from the hallway again that he realizes what woke him.
Next to him, Laurent shoots upright. “Oh fuck.”
“Good morning,” Damen says, bemused.
Laurent scrambles with the sheets, fighting his way out from under them. “What time is it?” he asks, stumbling to his feet.
Damen glances at the clock on his nightstand. “Five-ish.”
“Fuck,” Laurent says again. He’s found his boxers, and hops around as he pulls them on. “Where are my pants?”
Damen leans back against the headboard before gesturing towards the hallway. If memory serves, they’d left a trail of clothes behind them on their way to the bedroom. Laurent’s pants could be anywhere between here and the front door.
Laurent finds a sock on the floor of the bedroom and pulls that on too before disappearing into the hall.
“Do you want coffee or something?” Damen calls after him. He takes a moment to stretch his arms overhead, muscles straining pleasantly, and tilts his head to the side until his neck cracks.
“Cream and sugar,” Laurent calls back, voice muffled.
Damen spots Laurent holding up a wrinkled pair of slacks, looking dismayed, as he heads towards the kitchen. “There’s an ironing board behind that door there,” Damen says, pointing.
Laurent turns to thank him, realizes that Damen didn’t get dressed to make the coffee, and blushes.
Damen smirks. “Cream and sugar, right?”
“Uh… yes, please.”
“Coming right up.”
By the time the coffee’s done, Laurent has ironed his pants and shirt and finished dressing. Damen hands him a mug as he comes into the kitchen.
“Mmm, thanks,” Laurent says, sipping at it. His eyes keep straying to stare at Damen’s piercing, before jerking back up to his face.
“Early day at work?” Damen asks.
“Start of a new project,” Laurent says. He starts drinking the coffee in gulps, and sets it down when he’s only drunk a little over half. “I’m going to be late,” he says, starting to turn away.
“Hey, wait,” Damen says, grabbing his sleeve to tug him back. Laurent turns, and when he does Damen leans down to kiss him. Laurent arches into it, reaching up to wrap one hand around the back of Damen’s neck.
“I’m gonna be really late,” he mumbles against Damen’s lips, when he pulls back a bit.
“I could call you a car,” Damen offers.
“I’ve got it,” Laurent says, stepping back, firmly out of Damen’s reach this time. There’s a quirk to his lips. “Where’s your phone?” he asks.
Damen blinks at the non-sequitur. “Uh… somewhere around here.”
Laurent shakes his head, then pulls his own phone out and hands it to Damen. “Your number,” he explains.
“Oh!” Damen can feel the stupid grin on his face, and tries to suppress it as he types his number in. “Here.”
Laurent tucks the phone back into his pocket. He reaches for the coffee again and takes a last gulp before saying, “Okay, my boss is going to have a heart attack if I’m late today.” He leans up and pecks Damen on the lips then nearly runs out the door.
Damen follows him towards it, which is how he spots Laurent’s bag lying on the floor by the door. He grabs it and leans out into the hallway. “Hey! Your bag!”
Laurent jogs back over, grabs the bag, kisses him again, and turns to run away again, saying, “Put some pants on before your neighbors complain, Damen.”
“They don’t complain about it!” Damen calls after him, but Laurent has already disappeared down the stairwell.