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Damen woke up to a warm, soft bundle in his arms. He flexed his legs muscles in a stretch, and squeezed his arms until the bundle made a sleepy complaint. Damen acknowledged it with his own noise. One of his hands lifted to a head of soft curls and his other drifted down, over the frumpy layers of his own hoodie until frayed cotton turned into smooth wool. The skirt underneath was short; it would have been consumed entirely had the hoodie not bunched up while they slept. He slipped past the skirt.
There was warm, open thigh.
Damen hooked his fingers around a knee and pulled. The leg drew up easily, without any resistance. Damen moved up to palm a soft cheek; his hand was so big, his fingers could curl into the other side of Laurent’s ass at the same time.
The hand on the back of Laurent’s head had slid, at some point, to the front of Laurent’s face. His fingers had found their way into Laurent’s mouth, where Laurent was offering a nice, gentle sucking.
Damen drifted off again, one hand curled into warm flesh and the other surrounded by wet, suckling heat.
When he woke again, it was due to an urgent press against his full bladder. Damen cracked open a bleary eye to see his roommate Nikandros standing beside his bed, leaning forward. Nikandros was staring at something with narrowed eyes. He looked like shit. Damen said as much.
Nikandros’ dark eyes flickered up at Damen then back down. “Fuck off,” was all he said.
Damen grinned. He knew he was the reason for Nikandros’ poor state, and it filled him with joy. His arm, slung around Laurent’s ribs, squeezed tightly.
“Let’s see what my night was worth,” Nikandros grumbled. He tugged on the hem of Laurent’s pleated skirt a few times. Then, instead of kneeling on the bed to come closer, he stretched out his arm, grabbed a fistful of fabric, and hauled Laurent towards him.
Damen had not released his tight hold on Laurent’s torso; Laurent made a small noise as he was roughly pulled in opposite directions.
Nikandros pushed up the skirt. Damen closed his eyes.
He could feel what Nikandros was doing: every firm press, every knead; when he spread Laurent’s cheeks apart or nudged his thigh, all of it pressed Laurent’s front more firmly into Damen’s thigh.
“He’s got a nice ass,” Nikandros commented idly. From the sounds and motions, as far as Damen could tell, he had just slicked up his finger with saliva and pushed it into Laurent.
“Yeah,” Damen said through a yawn.
Still asleep, Laurent’s fists clenched in Damen’s shirt. Nikandros looked half-asleep himself, rubbing at his face with one hand while the other fucked into Laurent’s hole. It should still be wet; Damen had rolled Laurent over and fucked him again sometime during the night, not too long ago.
But the movement was pressing Laurent’s body against Damen’s bladder, and he groaned. “Gotta go take a piss,” he said. He pushed Laurent off himself, got up, and left the room.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Damen greeted. Laurent was awake now — fists clenched into the blanket, feet flexing and kicking against the bed because that was all he could manage under Nikandros’ weight.
Laurent’s face lifted toward him at the sound of his voice. Laurent was bright red, face soaked, lips trembling. “Damen!”
Damen sat down. He hushed Laurent. He stroked Laurent’s hair a few times, made a fist, and gently shoved his face back into the bed.
Laurent’s arms flailed. A high-pitched wail escaped against the bedding. Damen hushed him again.
“How is it?” Damen asked conversationally. He leaned back against the wall. It was no trouble to keep Laurent’s face down with one hand.
Nikandros shrugged. Damen could tell, from the small furrow of his brows, that Nikandros was mildly pleased. “Tight.”
Grinning, Damen slapped Laurent’s shoulder with his free hand. “There you go, baby,” he said.
After a while, Nikandros fatigued and he took a break. He yawned, stretching his arms over his head and then, seemingly out of pure reflex, smacked Laurent’s ass.
Laurent whined.
Nikandros looked too tired to fuck himself to a peak and Damen, taking pity, slid down on the bed until his face was parallel with Laurent’s.
“Darling,” he whispered. “You need to fuck Nikandros real nice, okay?”
Laurent made truly unpleasant sounds as he sniveled and wiped at his cheeks as much as he could with his face still pressed into the bedding. “What?” he croaked.
“Baby, Nikandros couldn’t sleep here last night,” Damen explained patiently. He brushed some of the hair off Laurent’s face with one hand. Damen’s other hand went down his pants. “Because you wanted to come over. Isn’t that right?”
“No,” Laurent said instantly. He turned to face Damen. His blue eyes were wide and wet, mouth half-open and shaking. “I-I wanted to come over, but —”
“And you knew I was going to fuck you, didn’t you?”
Laurent was silent. Damen hushed him all the same, cupping his jaw and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Now Nikandros is too tired to fuck you. You want to help my friend out, don’t you?”
“I don’t —” Laurent’s voice was shaking.
“Shh, yes, you do,” Damen soothed. His palm slipped down to cover Laurent’s mouth. “I know you’re just shy. This is still new to you, isn’t it, darling?”
A single jerk of Laurent’s head: a nod.
“Alright,” Damen said. He walked Laurent through it with soft, encouraging words: how to rock back and forth, and at what pace; when to press himself back into Nikandros and when to roll his hips instead. He praised Laurent through it all, stroked his hair, kissed his forehead and cheeks. He didn’t need to watch Nikandros’ expression; he knew what Nik liked, and how to get Laurent there. He kept stroking himself through it all; a little faster whenever the tears in Laurent’s eyes spilled over to paint his cheeks, or when Nikandros lost his patience if Damen teased him too much and snapped his hips roughly, causing Laurent to cry out.
Laurent startled when Nikandros’ hands slammed around his hips and he started fucking into him with complete abandon.
Damen grinned; he was close, too. Laurent complained that it hurt and Damen said, his own voice strained, “Nik is so hard to please, baby. He likes you so much.”
There might have been something else, but it was lost: all Damen heard was the echoing slaps of Nikandros fucking his young boyfriend, and Laurent’s responsive wails; all he saw was the plaid skirt wrapped in Nikandros’ fist as it rested on Laurent’s back, pushing down and forcing Laurent’s spine into a curve, and Laurent’s wet open mouth, and Laurent’s wet wide eyes.
He made sure Laurent got to come, after it was all done. Nikandros muttered that Damen spoiled Laurent too much, and then made Laurent go fetch a towel and some water for them. They laughed at the shakiness of Laurent’s legs as he stumbled around, but when he returned and cleaned them, Damen smiled and kissed him sweetly.
After Laurent finished, he hovered over the bed. Damen welcomed him in with open arms and tucked Laurent nicely against his chest. He said, “You did well.” His hand stroked up and down Laurent’s flank.
“I did well,” Laurent repeated.
Damen recognised this as uncertainty. It was absurd: he had taken Nikandros’ load like a champ, and then Damen had got up and knelt behind him to come on his hole. When he left to fetch water, he had even brought one of those disgusting flavourless power bars Nikandros liked and, achingly shy, offered it to Nikandros with downcast eyes and red cheeks.
Damen was damn lucky to have found Laurent at one of his college games a few weeks ago, shaking in a thin jacket as he clutched a bunch of textbooks to his chest.
I was supposed to surprise him, was the first thing Laurent had said, twenty minutes into the ride home that Damen had offered him. I guess he didn’t see me.
That’s impossible, Damen had said with a charming smile. Laurent had flushed and ducked his head, as if unused to such compliments. When Damen had found out Laurent was speaking about a brother and not some boyfriend that would need to be scared off, he had been inordinately pleased.
Now, with Laurent soft and heavy in his arms, Damen said, “Yes, sweetheart.”