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It starts, like many a great(ly foolish) idea, with some gossip.
He’s found by Laurent in an alcove balcony, deep into the night. Damen has tucked himself away from the rest of the party and is leaning against the stone, letting the breeze cool down his skin. He allows him to enjoy the view of the night sky, and the way the reflections of the stars twinkle across water. It is not that he found the party too loud, boisterous, or that he is tired. Damen is here for a more simple reason; for a good amount of time within the party, Laurent had found himself amongst a small gaggle of people and they had been intensely chittering away.
That all the men and women in that group had one very specific common denominator did not sit well with Damen, but there were too many people that demanded his own attentions for him to extract Laurent from the group. Nikandros had been by his side, and recognized a few of the people speaking with Laurent as well. It had brought an entertained expression to his face once he connected the dots. It was an expression that Damen did not appreciate, and took as a marker that he should do something about it.
Picking Laurent up and physically carrying him away from Damen’s ex-paramours would be considered unseemly though, and would risk Damen getting clobbered over the head by his very loving husband. So instead, he picked a path out of the hall that would cross directly in front of Laurent’s line of sight. Even with his blond head bowed in interest, Laurent had a keen sense of Damen’s presence as he always does. And if he didn’t, the rippling murmur of “Exalted” would have reached his ears anyways.
“I’m hurt you made your escape without me,” comes the cool voice down the hall.
“I did not want to pull you away,” Damen greets the familiar figure that’s striding towards him. He does not think too hard about the amount of time that’s lapsed between him leaving and Laurent finally joining him. “You seemed quite engrossed.”
“I was,” Laurent agrees as he approaches, but offers nothing more.
When he’s within reach, Damen leans off the stone and circles his hand around Laurent’s wrist, tugging Laurent close. He allows his palm to slide up Laurent’s arm, enjoying the warmed skin before it dips and hooks onto his waist. The chiton Laurent wears is new, expensive, the pale fabric crumpling in a lovely manner under Damen’s hand.
“You look good,” Damen says and any plan to draw out their greeting goes out the window.
He can’t help it. Laurent’s mouth is tempting and within reach. It has not stopped being dizzying that he has access to claim it as he wishes so he ducks his head for a sweet, lingering kiss. Laurent goes easily, and Damen wastes no time in licking his tongue across Laurent’s bottom lip, tasting the honey. He wants to push in, wants to explore more, but Laurent pulls back, just enough that his lips brush against Damen’s when he speaks.
“You’re burning to know what I was engaged in.”
“I think I have an idea,” Damen replies dryly.
Laurent ignores him and says, “I was getting regaled with quite some interesting stories about Damianos, Prince of Akielos.”
Ah.
“King,” Damen corrects helplessly.
“Not at the time you tumbled them,” Laurent informs him. He has never found shame in his experience, but something about people gathering and speaking of his exploits like he’s a particularly well sought after bull makes Damen’s ears tinge with warmth.
“What kind of stories were you subject to?” Damen asks, trying to parse out how exactly he should feel about this conversation. He cannot even begin to imagine the amount of detail and tall tales Laurent had extricated from the group, he had been talking to them for so long.
“Informative ones,” Laurent says. “Colourful ones.”
“Clear exaggerations.” Potentially not, but Damen was not so full of himself that he would say so.
“Bold ones about how you have a lot of prowess,” Laurent continues on, ignoring Damen again. “And apparently quite the repository of bedroom talents.”
“You’ve experienced it,” Damen points out gamely, and Laurent hums in a contemplation that bodes trouble.
“I have learned that I have experienced a part of it,” Laurent says, his voice laced with mild distaste. “But not all. And that wounds me.”
Damen raises an eyebrow, as Laurent’s face remains impeccably cool. He says, “Most are just rumours.”
“Very detailed ones,” Laurent counters, and Damen has to fight back a smile.
He wonders if Laurent is jealous. Laurent rarely ever admits it, proclaiming it an ugly emotion that does not behoove a man of his stature. However, it has long been proven what Laurent says and what Laurent does or feels are two very different things.
Damen studies Laurent’s face for a second, part out of want and part out of need, and then he understands.
“So what of those things rumored would you like me to do to you?” Damen asks, amused. Laurent leans up, and despite the fact that the two of them are alone, he whispers.
Laurent does not treat it like a joke.
Damen’s soul threatens to leave his very being. Laurent’s mouth is a weapon unto itself; that has never been contested. But he has never wielded it against Damen like this, his words elegant and refined yet utterly filthy. It is beyond their normal bedroom talk. Laurent provides such vivid detail about what he’d like rendered unto him by Damen that Damen’s imagination has no trouble painting the scene.
They have done a lot of things. However, it is still finite. Damen can count the amount of times they’ve made love on his fingers and his toes, and he very much wants to reach the point where he runs out of appendages to keep score. While some of his dreams with Laurent are sweet, a healthy amount of them involve fucking the blond so thoroughly that he forgets what it is like to not be utterly consumed.
Not that their bedroom affairs are inadequate. Laurent still opens up, unfurls like a wonder in Damen’s arms. Apparently though, he would like to know how it is to be wrenched apart as well.
Laurent finishes, mercifully, leaving Damen’s head to ring loudly on the inside. Damen stares at him while Laurent meets his gaze coolly. But Laurent is not entirely unmoved. While his expression remains unaffected, he cannot control the faint dusting of pink across his high cheekbones any less than Damen can control the way his eyes must be darkening.
Finally, he finds some words in the depths of what is left of his coherence.
“You like it slow,” Damen says, bordering on dumbstruck, his brain still trying to wrap around the pure lust that spilled from Laurent’s mouth. Some of it— well some of it, he does recognize. Some of the things he can easily tell are more associated with the tall tales spread around about him.Some things are more debauched than others and some are testament to Damen’s seemingly infinite strength and stamina. The fact that those acts have still made it onto Laurent’s list of desires makes his mouth run dry.
“It appears I must expand my tastes,” Laurent murmurs. Damen thinks about taking him back to their chambers, then remembers what Laurent says, and thinks about turning him around and pressing him against cool stone instead. Laurent then presses a chaste kiss against the corner of Damen’s jaw, and withdraws. “And attend to my party.”
It is in a technical sense, their party. Damen doesn’t think about this at all as he watches Laurent walk away, a confident set to his shoulders belying the faint pink at the nape of his neck. Damen wants to sink his teeth into it, wants to leave deep bruising indents. Now moreso than ever, since that too had made it onto Laurent’s laundry list.
Well, he supposes it wouldn’t hurt to try a few things.
The first one is rather easy. In fact, it happens that night, hours later when they’re both tumbling into their chambers, lush from the festivities. The novelty of Laurent unfolding so beautifully in his arms has yet to wear off for Damen and as soon as the door is closed behind them, he pushes Laurent up against it.
“Eager,” Laurent comments as Damen presses his lips against the crook of his jaw, nipping at it before soothing it with his tongue.
Damen does not bother denying it, not when his fingers are sliding up pale blue fabric, warming over smooth skin. He replies instead by drawing back and sweeping Laurent into a filthy kiss, one that has Laurent slumping forward. Laurent tastes as sweet now as he did earlier on in the night and Damen laps it up eagerly. He gropes with one hand as he presses the other against the door, caging Laurent in as he licks into his mouth.
An arm loops around his shoulders, letting him know Laurent is about to get greedy with the kiss so Damen breaks away, pressing his wet lips across the line of Laurent’s neck. He knows if he applied just a little pressure Laurent would bruise as easily as a peach. It is tempting to litter a line of dots along his skin that no one would dare call out.
Damen remembers then, Laurent’s requests. They had been large in number, but he has committed each one of them to memory. He squeezes Laurent’s thigh as he thinks for a moment, and then reaches for the other, hitching Laurent up. Laurent starts to wrap his legs around him eagerly but Damen does not end his journey there.
He lifts Laurent up higher, much to the other’s surprise. Laurent’s eyes go comically wide and he flails for a moment, trying to grab onto something. Eventually, his fingers land in Damen’s hair, gripping onto them tightly.
“Are we a circus troupe?” Laurent starts, trying to tug Damen’s head back as he looks down on him. “Surely, you—”
“I believe this was on your list of requests,” Damen says, scooping Laurent’s rear fully in his hands. He pulls him closer, till he can nuzzle himself between Laurent’s legs. Lifting Laurent up like he weighs nothing makes him feel a little cocky and Damen indulges it, pulling them off the wall.
“Must you show off your strength every time?” Laurent complains though it peters out into a soft moan as Damen mouths against a growing bulge. He’s this close to pulling up the skirt, delighted by how Laurent squirms against him, like he’s trying to hold back how much he wants it.
“I can take you like this too,” Damen says, lips moving over cloth. He feels Laurent suck in a sharp breath and smiles, lifting up the end of the chiton and pushing it back with his teeth so that he can bury his head where he truly wants.
Laurent is fully hard, wet. The moment Damen presses a ghost of a kiss to the tip Laurent curves over him, shaking. Damen laughs and he doesn’t even have to say anything for Laurent to grumble something about anyone being sensitive at this high an altitude.
It is exhilarating like this. Damen takes Laurent in his mouth torturously slow and Laurent cannot do anything but cling onto him, helpless to the tide of pleasure. Laurent curses over Damen colourfully, especially when Damen takes another step back and pretends to teeter, just to hear nonsense spill out of Laurent’s mouth. He bobs his head, hollows his cheeks, pulls off completely to draw a teasing line up the underside with his tongue, doing all the things that he knows will have Laurent losing his mind.
And as Laurent does so, Damen carefully lets go with one hand and digs into folds of his own chiton, pulling out a small vial he had held onto in the hopes that he’d have been able to draw Laurent away from the party sooner.
With considerable skill and coordination, he unplugs the stopper and lets the oil spill messy onto his fingers. Damen reaches down and strokes himself, not needing much to get himself ready given how hard he already was. The moment he manages to bring his fingers in between Laurent’s legs he can feel Laurent immediately start to draw taut like a bowstring and start calling his name, desperate.
Laurent though, is still as stubborn as he can be. He manages to survive Damen pushing in one finger, then two before he finally spills in Damen’s mouth, his cry louder than he’d normally allow. Utterly enraptured, Damen swallows it down til Laurent is soft. Laurent starts to push off his head and Damen pulls off in a show of benevolence. He tips forward and Laurent squawks as he’s shifted down again; Laurent’s legs remain over Damen’s shoulders, folding him in half.
“You’re taking advantage of my flexibility,” Laurent complains and Damen hums.
“Clearly not enough,” he replies and swallows up any other complaints in another kiss. He positions himself, pleased at the way Laurent’s breath hitches. Damen enjoys any position where he can see Laurent’s face as he pushes in. This one more so, given that Laurent is helpless to the pleasure, unable to hide his expression anywhere.
Damen watches in fascination as Laurent’s brows pinch and his kiss-bitten mouth parts, panting in overstimulation and thinks that yes, it definitely would not hurt to try a few new things.
In fact, not only would it not hurt to try, Damen thinks that it’s a task worthy of incredible focus. He demonstrates so that first night, stretching it til dawn. By the end of it, Laurent is barely able to string a coherent thought together for once in his life. Damen gets the chance to be the one to wipe the two of them up and he tries to tease more out of Laurent as he does so, earning a foot square to his chest.
Laurent’s request had contained many a varied thing, from strange and silly things Damen is absolutely sure he hasn’t done before, to things he thought he had promised with the other person to keep between them, to utterly sweet and romantic things that he has been secretly itching to try all along.
Some things are easy enough to do. Fucking Laurent midair was no challenge. Neither is splaying him out over the edge of their bed the following evening and standing over him, letting him suck Damen off that way, face upside down and steadily growing red. Damen makes out the shape of himself in Laurent’s throat as he moves against it, and pulls out right before he comes, spilling all over that gorgeous face. Laurent does not get mad— instead he is dazed, perhaps because he sometimes forgets to breathe when he does this. Damen kisses and licks him clean, tending to him with special care as he normally does after this sort of act. He rewards Laurent with his own mouth, eagerly so. When he’s done, he does not swallow it all. Instead, he kisses Laurent, pushing the taste of him onto his tongue.
Some things need more planning, such as this—
Waves crash loudly against rocks, and a soft breeze drifts through. It kicks up some sand and brings some relief. It is a fresh morning but a hot one, and there’s no one in sight, not even a well-placed guard. The sun crawls up the sky above them, making sweat trickle down his back as Damen moves slowly in Laurent, drunk with heat and the feeling of Laurent’s body giving way to him so easily.
It’s a languid and syrupy sweet type of lovemaking, one Damen is always happy to indulge in. The sand creeping perilously close to his nether regions not so much, and he was still unsure of how to feel on the public aspect but Laurent folded his arms and given him a pointed look, saying that if it was a good enough place for him to have a tryst at nineteen, then nothing should have changed since. Damen, who does not even remember who he brought here at that tender age, had folded easily.
They had brought a blanket, some cushions, and despite Laurent’s protests, a small basket of fresh fruit pilfered from the kitchens. “We can’t be all business all the time,” Damen had said as Laurent avoided eye contact with him. “I must properly court you before I bed you. After all, it was part of your—”
A grape was lobbed with skilled precision at his laughing face; Damen caught it out of the air and ate it, watching as Laurent tried to hide his own crooked grin.
The beach is beautiful at this time of the day, the sunlight rippling across water like a thousand scattered jewels. Damen’s plan had been something along the lines of swimming some, hand feeding Laurent tidbits before making a home for his head between Laurent’s legs and going down on him til he was as liquid as the waves.
However, he had vastly overestimated his own self restraint. Knowing there was a specific purpose for their trip, coupled with the beginnings of Laurent starting to pull his clothes off had Damen reaching for him before they could run into the water. He had only meant to kiss Laurent, still having a whole morning ahead, but the moment his hand skimmed over a bare shoulder his resolve crumbled.
(And, Damen reasoned with himself, it was probably a better idea to do it before the saltwater and sand made the friction too painful.)
Now he’s rolling his hips in at an unhurried pace, enjoying the feeling of working himself into Laurent. Laurent’s arms are looped lazily around Damen’s shoulders and his head is tipped back, his throat bared for Damen to latch onto while he rocks into him. Damen had worked him into a stupor, bringing him to a finish first with well oiled fingers while sucking on his tongue. He had only given Laurent a few moments of reprieve before descending on him again.
“I’m going to fall asleep,” Laurent says, equally pleased and haughty, his face satiated and feline.
“You should,” Damen murmurs as he finally settles in til the hilt. Laurent licks his lips without thinking, and Damen grins. He withdraws partially, studying the way thin golden brows furrow. “I can keep doing this.”
“Maybe another time,” Laurent says carelessly, and the mere thought of that has Damen’s hips snapping forward of their own accord. Laurent’s eyes go wide and Damen reminds himself slow, slow. He wants to luxuriate in this, wants to spend time winding Laurent up again. He’s already successful, if Laurent’s hardness between them is any indicator.
He ticks his hips up and Laurent lets out a gasp, the lazy expression melting away.
“All business, huh?” Laurent manages to snark and Damen moves again in a way that makes sure he forgets what he wants to say next. He repeats it again and again till whatever jabs Laurent had lined up give way to low moans and exhales. Damen drinks in the sounds and runs his hands down Laurent’s sides, playing with his chest in between before reaching down and wrapping a hand around him.
Eventually, he brings the two of them to a crescendo. It is so intimate that they’ve melded into one body, unsure of where one ends and the other begins. They reach their end together and when Damen spills in Laurent, he feels a level of contentment that rarely comes to him. It feels like he’s had a particularly thorough massage, and all the tension has dissolved from his shoulders. Damen remains there, even after they grow oversensitive, until Laurent starts complaining that they’re going to get crisped in the sun.
“Who’s idea was it?” Damen teases good-naturedly, and Laurent hums in contemplation.
“Technically yours,” Laurent says thoughtfully and Damen fights hard not to roll his eyes. Instead, when Laurent tries to push him off, he sinks his weight completely down, pinning Laurent. “What are you— Damen!”
Laurent isn’t exactly a ticklish man, but there’s a spot just above his hip that makes him react. Damen wiggles his fingers against it as Laurent squirms and lets out an unwilling laugh, unable to escape anywhere.
Perhaps Laurent is right, but Damen is entirely unbothered by it. It feels like a natural thing, to write new memories with Laurent til they eclipse all past experiences. Faintly, Damen wonders if that’s what Laurent is trying to do, his jealousy intertwined with his want for experience poking out in a subtle and restrained manner.
He would not be surprised. The mere thought of it charms him.
It turns out that once the ball gets rolling, now that Damen is aware explicitly of what Laurent wants, in the near future at least, it’s hard to think about anything else. He knows to hold each moment with Laurent precious, but more and more he finds himself thinking about debauching them.
In parallel, Laurent is growing entirely too curious about what else they can get up to. Taking it slow is still a novelty, even if they no longer have to constantly worry whether they will get the chance again. Damen still fucks Laurent like each chance will be his only one, as many as he takes. Laurent, however, seems more intent on getting into trouble.
It results in this: Laurent and Damen lazily perched around a fire with Charls, his assistant, and their new friend. Laurent, giving Damen a look filled with intent, brimmed by the light of the flame. They’re in the woods, fresh off a fight and freshly fed, and Laurent has a certain set to his face that tells Damen what he wants.
Damen thinks that they’ll retire to a tent, or in the comfort of one of their caravans. There’s a particular bed of silks Damen wants to toss Laurent onto, if only for the fact that he didn’t like the way the merchant who sold them the fabric at the beginning of the journey leered at Laurent. Laurent yawns, fake and slow, and rises.
“We have a long day ahead,” Laurent says, and the group hums in approval. Damen does not move, and Laurent gives him a pointed look after a few moments pass. “Lamen, attend me. I bid the rest of you a good night.”
Amused, Damen slowly gets to his feet, ignoring the furtive glances from others. He has no doubt the others have their own theories as to what their relationship is; he wonders how Charls reconciles his own, given that he thinks Damen is currently seated in Delpha for the ascension while his man fools around with an “assistant”.
Laurent heads towards their garish caravans, and Damen’s mind already starts turning with possibilities. However, he passes them, and Damen spots his blond head ducking into the thicket of woods. Frowning, Damen follows, lengthening his stride.
As soon as he passes the forest line, a hand grabs him and yanks. Instincts kick in and Damen snatches a lithe wrist and twists, pinning his attacker against a tree.
“You caught onto the spirit quick,” came Laurent’s bemused voice. “I didn’t even have to explain.”
Damen lets him go and turns him around. The fire in the camp isn’t too large, but enough that light leaks into the periphery of the woods, enough for Damen to see the smug grin on Laurent’s face. Before he can say anything, Laurent’s pushing up into a kiss that Damen cannot help but return.
Laurent always kisses like he is attempting his best to study a subject. It is incredibly endearing and hot in turns, and Damen parts his lips easily when he feels a tongue press at the seam. The clumsy slide that ensues is searingly hot, and Damen finds himself stirring easily. He shifts a thigh, slotting it between Laurent’s thighs as he tilts his head, and finds that Laurent is the same. As they kiss he reaches down, moving Laurent’s hips to grind against his thigh. A fine tremor runs through Laurent and Damen can’t hide his pleased smile in their kiss.
“Why’d you run out all the way here?” Damen says, biting Laurent’s ear before nibbling on his jaw. “Let’s go into one of the caravans.”
“No,” Laurent replies with firmness. “Here.”
“Here?” Damen draws back, and Laurent nods. He debates for a moment, dragging Laurent somewhere back where they do not run the chance of being caught— or interrupted. Not that being in a tent would particularly hide what they were doing, but it would at least provide the illusion of privacy.
Laurent clearly anticipated the resistance because he digs into his pockets, and brings out a vial. In the dark, Damen stares.
“Do you need me to explain what this is to you?” Laurent says sweetly.
“Turn,” Damen replies and Laurent goes along obediently, pressing his hands against the tree bark. Damen does not take his time in pushing off that ostentatious brocade, yanking down Laurent’s pants and underclothes, or adjusting his own. Laurent is still clutching on to the vial so Damen leans forward, plucking it out of his grasp with his teeth. Laurent pushes off the tree but Damen stops him with a palm between his shoulder blades and a, “Let me do this for you, sweetheart.”
He makes quick work of Laurent with his fingers. Laurent is still tense whenever they do this, but Damen has learned that a string of praises will help ease the way just as well as the oil. He takes himself in hand, and teases Laurent’s entrance.
“The quicker you relax, the better,” Damen whispers hotly into Laurent’s ear and Laurent scoffs. Damen presses forward, listening intently for Laurent’s body to tell him how it feels. He goes slow, his patience barely restrained. It seems that he is not the only one who is holding back because Laurent makes a sound, which causes Damen to pause. That seems to only annoy Laurent, who casts a look at Damen over his shoulder.
“Just keep going,” Laurent grits out. “We don’t have all the time in the world.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Damen murmurs, pushing in another small increment. The heat is welcoming, as is the tightness, and he has to breathe deep to remind himself to stay grounded.
“Believe me,” Laurent says darkly. “It will hurt me a lot more if you do not fuck me right now, Damianos. I have been waiting for an opportunity for too long.”
The words catch him by surprise, so much so that he cannot help the uptick of his hips. Laurent’s eyes flutter shut and his mouth drops as Damen seats himself halfway in one go. A little more and Laurent’s turning his head back, hanging it between his shoulders as Damen slides both his hands down to his hips. Damen grinds against Laurent, squeezing him as he does so.
Laurent is right— they do not have all the time. The camp clearing isn’t exactly big either. Any lingering will increase their chances of being caught and while Laurent seems fine with the idea, others viewing the act still feels inherently transgressive to Damen. However, he cannot deny how dry his mouth is, or the way his head feels light from how fast his blood rushed south.
Damen rocks his hips a short way out, reangles himself and snaps forward. It punches out a sharp cry from Laurent and without thinking, Damen slaps a hand over Laurent’s mouth. Laurent’s shoulders sag, a clear sign of his pleasure.
“Not too loud,” he says and Laurent shudders against him as Damen sets forth on a rhythm. He likes to sink into the feeling of Laurent around him but he has to admit that this steadily hurried pace is extremely gratifying. Laurent’s name slips from his lips and from the muffled sound that Laurent makes, Damen knows he’s trying to snark him. He leans forward and noses at Laurent’s collar baring enough skin for him to bite down on as he fucks him.
It grows frantic, fast. There is still tension in Laurent’s body, enough that Damen thinks he’s almost suffocating every now and then. But it is delicious and heated, and even though they try to keep quiet, both of them falter here and there. Laurent slumps against the bark as he comes close to his end and Damen can feel the sweat beading at his temples. He moves the hand from Laurent’s hip around to his front, stroking Laurent off fast as he reaches his own end.
Damen spills, and Laurent follows shortly after, the sound still cushioned by Damen’s palm. Only when Damen has slipped out and Laurent’s breathing has gone steady, does Damen remove his hand. He flips Laurent over again and finds himself yanked into another, messy kiss. He smoothes away dirt from Laurent’s cheek with his clean hand and when he pulls them off from the support of the tree, Laurent’s legs tremble.
“We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow,” Damen says and even in the dark, he can make out the flat look Laurent gives him. Thinking nothing of it, Damen reaches down and grabs Laurent by the thighs, hauling him over his shoulder like spoils from a hunt.
He cops a feel against Laurent’s ass and thinks that maybe, there is something to be said about the thrill of being caught after all.
Or perhaps not.
Weeks later, after Laurent’s ascension, Damen finds himself at a loss. He had been thinking again about Laurent’s list of requests, and had thought the next logical progression would be the quiet corner of one of the palatial libraries. It had brought him a thrill as a rebellious sixteen year old, and as a cocky twenty three year old, and he thinks it will be just as satisfying telling Laurent to be quiet as he coaxes one release out of him after another.
In the morning, Damen had woken Laurent up with his mouth. After pressing small bruises to the inside of the thighs, he had told a dazed Laurent in an incredibly suggestive tone that he wanted him at the library in the afternoon.
“Let’s cross another act off your list,” Damen had said, more to the flat plane of Laurent’s lower abdomen, and Laurent had made an approximation of an agreeable noise.
And Laurent has stayed true to his word. It’s just that now that he’s standing here, in one of the more private entrances into the library, Damen has a hard time comprehending what he is seeing. Thankfully his survival instinct has stopped him from letting out a short, incredulous burst of laughter. Though, it looks like Laurent could tell.
“I thought this to be economical,” Laurent says defiantly as he buttons his coat back up and Damen blinks rapidly. “As I hope you can remember, this was another thing I had heard you were good at.”
“I…” Damen trails off, trying to remember when exactly he had encountered a situation like this. Perhaps it was something tangential, something along the lines of him being greedy enough with a partner that he couldn’t wait to flip a skirt and get to work. Either way, he cannot connect a single pair of dots that would lead them to Laurent showing up in the blue dress he had received so many months back as a disguise. All he can say is, “We’re not lacking for time.”
“Shall I go back and change then?” Laurent snips, drawing the cloak he’s thrown over himself tighter. He looks like a minister with it on, but Damen’s mind is still stuck on the brief flash Laurent graced him with moments earlier.
He had planned to draw it out. To take Laurent towards one of the more secluded rooms off the balcony and tease him till he was flushed and hungry. But to see Laurent dressed the way he was, the cloth pinned in the perfect, seductive fashion, has brought his brain to a grinding halt. The only thought that remains at the forefront of his mind is one of slinging Laurent over his shoulder like a conquest again and dragging him to the baths, or their room, or anywhere else Damen can enjoy the view while he fucks him.
No, the library no longer seems like a good idea. Even in one of the private studies, Damen would not be able to do all the things he wants to do to Laurent in this dress. The thrill of being caught does not compare to the thrill of seeing Laurent dressed in a woman’s cloth, wrapped up neatly for Damen to enjoy and make scream.
“Damen, what—” Laurent’s caught by surprise as Damen scoops him up easily. “This beats the point about being surreptitious.”
“Showing up in a dress doesn’t?” Damen says, and begins his resolute march towards one of the guest quarters. He enjoys the comfort of their rooms, but he is willing to make the concession given the magnitude of the mess he plans to make.
Time melts the moment Damen kicks the door shut behind them and drops Laurent onto his feet. He pries the cloak off and tosses it off to the side, ignoring the crashing noise. Laurent is a vision, the blue fabric settling beautifully against his pale skin.
“Economical?” Damen says and Laurent blinks before he remembers. In response, he turns around to show Damen just how low the dress cuts, revealing a lithe and toned back. Damen wants to put his mouth all over the skin there so he does, enjoying Laurent’s shiver.
Some inordinate time later, Damen’s head is tipped back as he watches Laurent through his thick lashes. Laurent’s eyebrows are pinched in conversation and he pants, groping for purchase against Damen’s chest as he rides him. He’s dripping with sweat and when Damen reaches forward to push his damp hair off his face, Laurent leans into the touch.
He works with utmost concentration, rising and falling to a silent rhythm. The heat is maddening and every time Laurent tenses around him, Damen’s eyes threaten to roll back. His dress is utterly ruined, stained and ripped, lending to Laurent’s debauched look. Despite its state, Damen still refuses to let Laurent take it off, wanting to see the way it falls apart around him as he tries his best to bounce on his lap. Even if Laurent has yet to gain finesse, he still moves in a maddening way. Damen knows that when Laurent properly learns a trick or two, he is in immense trouble.
As it is, he can feel his control slipping. The hands he’s settled on Laurent’s hips have grown stronger in their grip and without realizing, he’s started to guide the way Laurent rolls. Laurent seems to have barely noticed, his entire chest flushed red as he tries to angle and re-angle himself. There’s a wet patch at the front of his dress from where he’s hard and dripping and Damen wishes he could reach everywhere all at once, wanting to taste it.
Laurent stutters against him. He’s panting heavily now, and Damen’s hips automatically buck to make up for the pauses. Laurent goes cross-eyed at the movement and Damen helps him lift up, before yanking Laurent back down onto himself.
“I’m supposed to— I’m supposed to be doing this,” Laurent gasps and fingers curl around Damen’s wrists. They do not stop him though and Damen continues to fuck up into Laurent till Laurent is slumping forward, blabbering incomprehensibly as Damen thoroughly works him over. Without thinking, Damen raises his hand and lands it with a smack against the curve of Laurent’s rear.
Laurent comes with a scream that he muffles against Damen’s chest, untouched save for the friction of the cloth against his front. Damen kneads at muscle and holds him steady as he fucks past Laurent’s finish and barrels steadily into his own, groaning out praises on how good Laurent feels, how good he moves, how good he is for Damen and—
The orgasm slams into him at full force and he chases it, thrusting fast and deep into Laurent, grinding into him so that Damen spills entirely within him. He holds on to Laurent so tightly that the marble-like skin under the dress must be bruising.
His head feels light, and his heart pounds in his throat. Damen collapses backward and Laurent follows him. They’re still joined, oversensitive.
“We tried something new,” Laurent says sagely, and Damen huffs out a short laugh. The dress is not completely ruined, but Damen is not completely done.
After a few, long moments, Laurent pushes up. Or he tries to. His arms and legs tremble as he props himself up on Damen’s chest, and gingerly pulls him out. Laurent winces, and Damen imagines the mess that's dripping in between Laurent’s legs.
The thought makes his mouth dry. It’s the dress, Damen blames as a new idea takes hold in his head. Laurent starts to sit up and Damen helps him, running a soothing hand along his sides. But when Laurent tries to move off completely, Damen tightens his grip.
“Where are you going?” He asks, and Laurent looks at him bemused. “Stay here.”
“It’s messy,” Laurent complains, fastidious as ever. Damen understands, and pushes at the skirt of Laurent’s dress. He helps Laurent sit up straight but before Laurent can move off completely,
“What— are you doing?”
Damen supposes the question is rhetorical; Laurent’s face is going a full flaming red, suggesting that he knows exactly what Damen is going to do. Damen pulls Laurent by the hips, bringing him further up his torso, til Laurent’s knees are pinned over his shoulders.
“Helping you clean up,” Damen says, only to elicit an indignant sound from Laurent before he ducks his head under the skirts.
(They do make it to the library, eventually.
They fool around and Damen hides under the table when someone from their retinue drifts by with a pressing question for Laurent. Laurent’s expression is as impenetrable as ever as he answers smoothly, belying the fact that Damen is between his legs, neatly sucking him off so as to not make much noise.
Afterwards, when the person is gone and Damen is wiping his mouth with a smug expression, Laurent concedes that maybe public acts are a little transgressive. Damen, on the other hand, feels his own attitudes shifting, enough so that he has very little qualms in bending Laurent over the table and sliding his own hardness between his thighs.
It’s a cultural exchange, he reasons with both himself and Laurent, and it brings him no small amount of joy at the ridiculous laugh that bursts out from Laurent.)
Damen thinks they may have to host another party soon, if this will be the outcome again. He knows he would have found a way to get Laurent in bed repeatedly either way, but having Laurent initiate all his ideas makes Damen stand up straighter, puff his chest out more.
Nothing prepares him though, for coming back to their bedroom to see Laurent with rope between his teeth, tightening the binds around his wrists. He had been beckoned by being told Laurent had to see him over a matter of utmost importance. He’s entered their chambers now, door closing loudly beside him as he starts with a “Laurent?”
Damen stops dead in his tracks, his brain working frantically to parse together what he is seeing. Laurent looks up, and frowns, spitting out the rope.
“I thought you were going to come a little later.”
Damen opens his mouth, but nothing makes it out. He stares like a particularly comical fish, and Laurent meets it dead on.
“Well?” Laurent says, sticking his chin out defiantly. His skin is already pink, a strong blush across his chest no matter how stoic he wishes to look. Laurent’s feet are bound too, thick blue silk wrapped around fair ankles. He’s in a thin white shirt, a laced Veretian that is oversized, one that Damen recognizes as his own, and nothing else. The silk cuts a line upwards and Damen realizes that Laurent has managed to tie his ankles to his wrists.
Damen’s fingers twitch, and a fire stokes low in his belly. He cannot remember a single thing he was doing before he stepped past the threshold for this room, let alone thinking. Belatedly, he realizes he still has not said a thing. Laurent fidgets on the bed, trying to hide that he’s growing self-conscious, and it spurs Damen into moving.
“You are going to turn me into a madman,” Damen says, clambering onto the bed. Laurent tilts forward, anticipating a kiss but Damen pushes him back instead, sending him sprawling against the bed. “Did you send an order to fetch me when you were dressed like this?”
He can see that Laurent is on the verge of a smartass comment so he grabs a knee, watching Laurent’s hands move with his legs as Damen pushes them apart. He tries to remind himself to look at Laurent’s face, to look him in the eyes, but the shoulder of the shirt is slipping off to reveal a pink nipple and there is nothing more Damen wants to do in that moment than taste it. It is hard to follow through on that urge though, when so many things distract his attention, including the way the fabric slides up Laurent’s thighs.
“I gave it a while back,” Laurent exhales as Damen reaches forward and spans his hand over the bare part of Laurent’s chest. Damen finds the sensitive peak and pinches, and Laurent automatically reaches for his wrist. His leg moves along in the motion, brushing along Damen’s side, and Damen is so overcome with lust he forgets how to think.
He descends on Laurent hungrily, his mouth and fingers pressing everywhere they can while Laurent sighs into the air, visibly pleased. Damen wants to touch every part of Laurent that he can, wants to get greedy, wants to consume him wholly, wants and wants and wants.
“Look at you,” Damen says wetly as he licks his way across Laurent’s chest. He closes his mouth around a nipple and feels Laurent start to arch against him. He sucks harshly and Laurent makes a pithy sound.
Damen has imagined having Laurent in many ways, but they all pale in comparison to this. He lays praise upon Laurent and watches his body react to it before he can do it, arching prettily against Damen’s tongue, Damen’s fingers. Every time Laurent reaches to touch, his other limbs follow and Damen takes delight in pinning down one hand and seeing his leg strain.
He cannot even remember who Laurent would have gotten this idea from. Damen grabs one of Laurent’s legs and folds it enough that he can bring it through the loop of his tied arms, then the other, til Laurent is a tangle of rope and his hands are behind his back. Damen does not care— whoever it was, Laurent is eclipsing them in every sense of the way in this and every other thing. He turns Laurent over onto his belly and drapes over him, grinding against him as he tells him this. The response is haughty, as expected, and secretly pleased.
Surprisingly, Laurent is not as tense like this. Damen thought he would be, offering himself up in a prone position such as this, but Laurent unwinds beautifully under his touch. The rope bites into Laurent’s skin, leaving red marks in its wake and Laurent likes it, Laurent starts to moan when Damen presses against it.
The submission of it spurs Damen on, makes him covetous and reverent in tandem. He’s gentle as he makes Laurent melt with his mouth, then harsh against Laurent’s lips, biting the lower one as he slips oiled fingers in between. Laurent gives way easier than he normally does, something that makes Damen dizzy, as if he was not the one to spend an indulgent amount of time warming Laurent up underneath his palms and lips.
By the time Damen slides in, Laurent’s hips hitched in the air as he buries his face in a pillow, panting, Damen knows he’s on the verge of losing himself. He pets Laurent’s hair as he waits for Laurent to adjust, leans over him and tells him how good he feels wrapped around Damen and Laurent’s response is unintelligible, slurred like he’s just as lost.
Damen can’t help it and starts moving. He tries to be slow but even Laurent seems to be of a different mind, trying to rock back onto Damen. The heat builds between them til it’s searing, til Damen’s holding onto the rope between Laurent’s wrist, using it as leverage to hinge Laurent back onto him. When he finds the right angle and Laurent whines, high-pitched and needy, Damen fucks in harder til Laurent’s thighs are trembling and he’s chanting Damen’s name into the sheets.
Laurent spills loudly and Damen follows shortly after him, his world inverting as he does so. It is heady and it is hot and even as they ride out the high, Damen knows that they aren’t done, that they are going to be indisposed for the rest of the day.
Later on, when they’re in their room for the night, reclined on a daybed together, Laurent asks, “Do you have any fantasies?”
He’s sprawled like a cat on the bed while Damen sits on the other end, idly massaging one of Laurent’s feet, both of them pretending to read their respective books. Damen had insisted on bathing Laurent, massaging out the red marks from the rope, kissing Laurent sweetly, feeding him his dinner by hand, kissing him again, wrapping a hand around him because it seemed that he was not completely out of energy yet, and then washing him down again. Laurent was truly sated now, and Damen had thought him to be on the verge of sleep.
Until now.
The question takes Damen by surprise and he looks over at Laurent, who has his eyes resolutely planted on the book he is reading. Supposedly. His eyes aren’t moving, a rare slip in his abilities of subterfuge. Damen digs his thumb into the arch of Laurent’s foot but gets no reaction.
“Why?” He asks cautiously as he cups Laurent’s heel, and Laurent hums.
“We have been doing things I thought I would like,” Laurent says idly. “I would like to do something you like.”
“I like pleasing you,” the reply rolls off smooth and sincere from his tongue. A small circle massaged right above Laurent’s heel and then, “I like taking pleasure in you.”
That gets the faintest dusting of pink from Laurent’s cheeks. It’s cute and Damen has the urge to bite it.
“No aspirations?”
“Merely holding you is enough.”
That answer does not seem to satisfy Laurent. He sticks head out from behind his book and frowns.
“But surely you have thought a few specific things here and there,” Laurent says insistently. “Even my soldiers used to talk about things they’d do when they thought I wasn’t listening. Have you truly been pure of thought this entire time?” Damen feels his eye twitch as Laurent continues, “Or as pure as one can be.”
“Careful,” Damen warns, wrapping his hand around Laurent’s bony ankle, eclipsing the faint red skin that rings around it.
“Jealous?” Laurent raises an eyebrow and Damen huffs.
“You’re getting cocky,” he says, tugging on the ankle. But Laurent is right— remembering the things he’d overhear about Laurent makes Damen feel possessive in a strange, unattainable way.
“I just wanted to know,” Laurent insists. There is something in the blue of his eyes that makes Damen sense that there is an unspoken ‘that I’m wanted’. It eases whatever had been building in Damen’s chest and Damen hides a smile as he feigns deep thought.
“Lately whenever I wish to have you, I simply do,” Damen says finally, and he genuinely starts to go through his catalog of things he would like to do to Laurent. It is a hefty one, and he tries not to get too lost in it. “But…”
“Ah,” Laurent sounds victorious, propping himself up on his elbow, his book falling to his chest. Damen’s hand crawls up from his ankle to his calf, but he pays it no attention. “So there is something.”
A memory flits by, and Damen nods.
“I want you to attend me again,” Damen says, squeezing. “In the baths. Properly.”
Damen lets his words sit with Laurent for a few moments, lets Laurent traverse back to the memory. Lets Laurent think about what a proper bath would entail. Then to emphasize his point, Damen levels Laurent with a dark, heavy gaze. “I want to have you against the marble.”
The same lust is reflected back in Laurent’s eyes, and he slowly picks up his book again.
“As you were,” Laurent says, but the edges of his words are tinged as much as his ears, and Damen doesn’t bother hiding his grin.
Laurent, of course, approaches this task with as much attention as he did the others. That is to say that the last time they did this, it was tender and sweet and filled with the things they found too difficult to say to each other. This time, Laurent seems intent on bringing Damen a swift and luscious death.
It is deep into the night. Past the edges of the open-air bath, the blue-dark sky stretches, twinkling with stars. The moon is full and large, and the faint sound of the waves crashing drift up towards the palace. The bath itself is a soft beacon, candles dotting the marble walls, providing a soft golden glow.
Laurent is in a thin white chiton again, through which his silhouette had been illuminated as he moved through the room, attending to Damen. Even at Damen’s insistence, he has refused to take it off but Damen does not completely mind. Laurent is washing him now, before he goes into the bath, massaging Damen with damp hands, kneading at powerful thighs as he keeps his gaze lowered.
It is a sight to see, one that will paint Damen’s dreams for years to come. Laurent works with concentration, messy with the water that splashes from the pitcher. Dampness spreads through his chiton, turning it translucent as he continues to attend to Damen, washing his feet with great attention before he slowly drifts up. He’s seated on the bench— Laurent did not test the water, as he should, but it is perfect anyways.
Damen reaches forward to brush a hand through Laurent’s hair, needing to touch before he goes mad. Laurent looks up and blinks innocently, which makes Damen exhale louder than normal.
“Am I doing something wrong?” Laurent asks, tipping his head and on anyone else, the coquettish action would have looked off-putting and over the top. Laurent, however, seems to know that doing this will core Damen. Every step of this bath has been deliberate, from the moment Laurent took his hand from their chambers with a knowing look.
Where they had found themselves in an emotionally charged moment before, Damen feels nothing but the thick haze of lust. Desire lances through him the more he looks at Laurent, cast in the ethereal light of the candles, appearing as if he is a gift from the old gods.
“I want you naked,” Damen says honestly. Laurent pauses for a moment, his hands visibly twitching before he reins himself back into the falsely demure expression he had been wearing.
Slowly, letting his hands drag down the top of Damen’s thighs as he does so, Laurent draws back. The heat of his fingertips leave trails across Damen’s skin and he watches with dark eyes as Laurent stands up. Laurent steps back, and the light from the candles once again shine through the fabric of his chiton, turning the fabric translucent. Just the sight alone has Damen rousing; he is a starving man within hair’s width of a feast.
Laurent pulls the pin first, letting the cloth fall around his hips. At a pace that is torturous, he tugs on the tie, and the fabric pools around his feet. He steps out of it, and Damen licks his lips. Laurent approaches again, but he does not kneel. Instead, he reaches for a pitcher, his eyes going half-lidded as he pours the warm water over himself.
The pitcher is set down, and the soap is picked up. Damen watches, utterly hypnotized as Laurent drags the soap slowly over his own body, all ideas of efficiency nonexistent.
“Laurent,” the name falls from Damen’s lips before he can help it. It’s low and rough with need, and Laurent ignores it as he lathers himself up. Once done, he reaches for another pitcher. This time, he pours it over Damen’s torso, soaking him thoroughly.
“I shall attend you now,” Laurent says, stepping closer. “Properly.”
He lowers himself onto Damen’s lap, straddling him. Damen’s hands immediately shoot to Laurent’s hips but Laurent pays it no mind, wrapping his arms around Damen’s shoulders.
When Laurent presses against Damen’s chest with his entire body, hard line against hard line, Damen’s vision blackens around the corners. Laurent drags himself up and Damen can feel the other man’s stirring interest. Laurent does it again and Damen hisses, digging his fingers in further. The soap streaks between them and the fragrant scent grows, suffusing the air. Damen finds it hard to remember to breathe as Laurent uses his body to soap him, rolling in a slow and sinuous line.
He’s getting so hard so fast that it makes him dizzy. Damen wants to touch Laurent all over, wants to grab him and help him in the movements but the moment he does so, Laurent tuts and draws back.
“Only me,” Laurent says and Damen cannot help but add, “For now.”
Watching Laurent’s face like this is exquisite. He looks focused on his task, moreso when their lower halves grind together, slow and sweet. His lips part and he exhales, low and sweet, and Damen wants to kiss him so bad. When he makes an attempt though, Laurent shoots him a warning look and Damen is relegated to sitting helpless in his seat. He half-moans Laurent’s name but Laurent doesn’t concede, moving his hands across Damen’s shoulders as if to get a full feel of him.
Laurent brings them both to the precipice; Damen can tell he’s straining too. Laurent grinds their laps together and Damen pants, wanting to wrap a hand around the both of them. He looks up at Laurent and sees that his eyes have gone a little glassy, so he follows through with the urge. Laurent moans out Damen’s name and Damen strokes them together with urgency. It’s hot and it’s wet and the fragrant soap on their chests acts as an aphrodisiac, making it headier.
“Damen,” Laurent draws in close enough to kiss, but when Damen leans in, he grabs him by the back of his head. He speaks, his lips brushing against Damen’s, “I want you inside.”
“Across the marble,” Damen says hoarsely and then they’re both coming, spilling hot and wet onto Damen’s hand. Damen finally ignores Laurent’s hold and pushes up into a kiss, a filthy, open-mouth kiss. He slides his tongue against Laurent’s and licks into his mouth insistently as Laurent clings onto him, trying valiantly not to slump forward.
Damen reaches down and picks up a pitcher. He lets Laurent collapse against him, then pours the water between the two of them, washing the soap off. For good measure, he gets some on Laurent’s head as well, earning him some grumbling that he ignores. He thinks that Laurent will flip it now, will want Damen to coddle him as Damen gladly would, but it appears that he’s still committed to his act.
“Well?” Laurent says, pushing off Damen’s chest. There’s a light pink flush across his sternum that Damen wants to taste. “We’re not done. Or are all your grand stories about stamina just talk?”
They’re not. Damen is already half hard. Laurent may take a little more time to get there, but Damen will make sure of it.
“You talk as if I boast,” Damen says, turning his head to kiss the inside of Laurent’s arm and Laurent scoffs.
“I know you do not,” Laurent says dryly. “Others do it for you.”
Damen kisses Laurent again, this time grabbing a handful of his ass and kneading as he does so. Laurent mumbles something else into the kiss that’s tinged with slight jealousy and Damen feels incredibly enamored and incredibly turned on.
“Pay no attention to them,” Damen murmurs against his lips, and Laurent re-angles his head for a deeper kiss.
“Where else am I going to get new ideas from?”
“The source,” Damen says, and lifts the two of them up off the bench. He swipes some of the oils that Laurent had neatly laid out beside them, and walks over to one of the steaming baths. Damen sets Laurent down and kisses a wet line down his neck, mouthing along hot skin. His hands slide slowly between Laurent’s legs, and what he finds there surprises him. He visibly pauses but Laurent keeps kissing him, a smug grin evident on his face. Damen pushes his fingers further and Laurent’s breath hitches as his body gives way easily.
It seems that Laurent took proper bath to heart after all.
“Show me how you did it,” Damen’s voice is low, commanding. Laurent’s smile grows.
“What, did you forget how to?”
“Laurent,” Damen warns, crooking the two fingers he’s been able to slide into Laurent so easily. He presses expertly and some of Laurent’s bravado falters, his eyes going half-mast.
The two of them end up sprawled on the floor, the marble cool against Laurent’s back. Damen watches intently between his legs as he opens himself up; Laurent is a sight to see naked against the white marble, and it is no wonder that many covet him. Despite his words, Damen can tell that this is something that still makes Laurent shy— putting himself so overtly on display like this.
So Damen coaxes him with praise as Laurent touches himself and says Damen’s name helplessly. This time, he’s reticent with his touch, only because the faintest brush of his fingers seems to set Laurent off. It is less out of consideration and more to tease and it works, as Laurent glares at him from out under his lashes.
“Is this enough?” Laurent asks, and he clearly means it to come out snippy but it is wet and broken instead.
As much as he tries, Laurent can never truly hide his need.Damen is torn between wanting to slide into Laurent and wanting Laurent to finish on his own fingers in front of Damen, the desperation in his eyes further amplified. It has not been a long time since Damen has had him— but the avaricious part of him wins out and he moves.
He watches Laurent’s face intently as he pushes in, reveling in the easy give and heat. Laurent bites his lower lip as he looks between them. Damen leans forward and buries his face in the crook of Laurent’s neck, inhaling deeply as he seats himself all the way. Their bodies slide against each other easily from the steam and the sweat, and he feels Laurent slide his hands up his back, digging in his fingers.
When he’s buried to the hilt, Damen waits for Laurent to properly adjust. He can feel the rapid rise and fall of Laurent’s chest against his own, and he kisses Laurent’s cheek patiently. Damen enjoys the wait, enjoys watching Laurent’s expression open up with pleasure as Damen slowly begins his undoing. This time though, Laurent seems to have more of a defiant tinge to his expression. Laurent hooks his legs around Damen’s waist and bumps his heel against Damen’s lower back.
“Well?” he says, and Damen huffs.
He starts to roll his hips in small increments, studying Laurent’s face as he draws out further and further each time. Damen keeps it slow and takes his time, enjoying the soft whine Laurent makes in the drag out. Warmth unspools within him and he commits each sensation to memory. It is lush and indulgent, but it is clear Laurent is waiting for him to give him more.
“You want it differently,” Damen says.
“You know how I want it.”
“Do I?” A crooked grin tugs at the corners of Damen’s mouth. “I can’t be sure unless you say.”
“Damen,” This time, it is not a bump but a light kick against Damen’s thigh. Damen decides to slow down all the way to a halt, trying poorly to conceal a laugh. Laurent kicks him again, this time with more insistence.
“Am I a horse?”
“Yes,” Laurent grits out. “Move.”
This time, Damen can’t help the smile that breaks out. He withdraws part way through and kneels back, his knees pressing against hard marble. Damen scoops up Laurent’s lower half and moves him too, earning a surprised squeak from Laurent. He plants his hands firmly on Laurent’s hips and licks his lips, before tugging Laurent back onto him, burying himself sharply.
Laurent arches, eyes going wide as if he did not expect how it felt. Damen does it again, and again, making sure to angle in a way that has Laurent going cross-eyed. Once he hits it, he starts to steadily build up the pace, keeping his aim true. It draws some truly beautiful sounds from Laurent that echo across the open marble room, melting into the night.
Damen tries to keep himself in check, tries to not lose himself too soon but it proves to be hard with how pliable Laurent’s supine form is, how enticing he looks. Laurent throws one arm over his face, trying to muffle his voice against the crook of his elbow and Damen finds it spurring him on more.
“Can’t handle it?” Damen teases breathlessly as he reaches forward, wrenching Laurent’s arm off. Laurent tries to move and Damen captures both his wrists in one of his hands and pins them above his head.
“More,” comes the gasp in return and Damen is more than happy to comply, picking up the speed of his thrusts till each one punches a short cry from Laurent.
He’s never fucked Laurent like this but Damen would be lying if he said he had never dreamed of it. Laurent has a demeanor and a mouth that a man would like to screw stupid as much as he would like to make love to. Damen snaps his hips in harder, earning a pretty wail that bounces off the stone. The high he feels is incredible and he steadfastly chases it, watching Laurent fall apart below him.
Their coupling turns wild, animalistic, and Damen truly starts to lose himself. He's fucking Laurent harder and harder til his begging turns incoherent. Laurent’s eyelashes are wet, tears dripping down the corners of his eyes as he’s overwhelmed, overtaken. Damen’s hips redden the back of his thighs, and Laurent clings on harder. He’s rolling his hips against Damen, trying to take as much as possible.
Hungry for even more, Damen lets go of Laurent’s wrists to grab his trembling legs and throws them over his shoulder, bending Laurent in half as he leans over. He plants a hand on each side of Laurent’s head and one of Laurent’s arms fly around his shoulders.
The other dives between them and Damen starts to fuck him mercilessly, reaching deep within Laurent. Laurent scratches down his back, leaving angry red marks while he pants Damen’s name, a crescendo in his voice as he jerks himself off. It is beyond anything Damen’s imagination could have conjured, despite the ways he’s had Laurent already. Laurent grows taut underneath him and Damen can feel his own release steadily approaching.
“There we go,” Damen finds himself murmuring. “There we go, just a little more—”
Just a little more, just a little more—
They both find their release at the same time, the wave of it large and unyielding. Laurent’s cry turns silent and Damen groans out his name, rough as he reaches down and grabs Laurent’s hips, yanking, coming inside him. They crest, the high unreal, and Damen thrusts fast and shallow to chase it down. Even after the sensation grows too raw, he cannot slow down til Laurent is making oversensitive, keening noises.
The world drowns out for a moment, narrowed down to where they are joined. Damen’s heart thuds rapidly against his ribcage and his mind turns, filled with light. He feels liquid, sated, as boneless as Laurent looks. It takes him a few moments before he’s able to return back to the present, both of them trying to catch their breaths.
Slowly, Damen slides out, utterly fascinated by the mess. Laurent looks dazed and completely winded.
“That was…” Laurent’s hand flops uselessly to the side as he tries to make a vague gesture.
“Satisfactory?” Damen ventures in a mimic of Laurent’s voice, and Laurent makes a rude gesture in return.
With great effort, Damen is able to tear himself away from Laurent long enough to procure a cloth and a pitcher of warm water. Laurent slumps back against the marble with less finesse this time, limbs splayed everywhere as Damen wipes the two of them down. He’s brought the soap with him too, and he makes quick work of himself. With Laurent, Damen pays more attention, gently massaging out the strain in his thighs and his hips til Laurent is kicking at him and saying, “You’re going to have to give me a little more time if we need to go again.”
“How long exactly?” Damen asks, earning another foot to his bicep. When he’s done washing them down, he drags them towards the steaming baths.
“Come,” he tells an uncertain Laurent. “It will be good for your muscles.”
“I am going to cook if I go in there,” Laurent complains but follows anyway, and Damen grins. He continues his massage in the hot baths as Laurent gets steamed, holding him in his lap till the smaller man is malleable against him.
Later on, in the comfort of their chambers, after Damen has given Laurent enough time and has tumbled him thoroughly against the sheets, Damen strokes Laurent’s hair and asks him, “So, do you think you’ve expanded your tastes?”
“I think I’ve broken my back,” Laurent grumbles from where his head is pillowed on Damen’s chest. Damen continues to pet Laurent and Laurent leans into it, on the verge of dozing off. Maybe they overdid it, but neither of them could help it. If he wasn’t utterly exhausted, Damen wouldn’t be able to ignore the itch under his fingertips. Silence, where he thinks Laurent’s finally fallen asleep, and then—
“Cannot say for sure. There’s still much to do.”