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The morning found them as the night left them, wrapped in one another, with rumpled sheets tangled at their waists. Damen stretched, chilled by the cool breeze blowing in through the open balcony, sated with Laurent beside him.
He was thankful to have woken first. Any opportunity to observe Laurent at his least guarded, in sleep or otherwise, was always welcome. Without his mind to war with him, he was the picture of ease, every edge softened, as Damen was coming to know them to be beneath it all, his expression relaxed. Sunlight danced in his golden hair, bringing a warm glow to his flawless, porcelain skin. Laurent’s youth was apparent in that quiet moment, his beauty stunning, lips parted just so as he breathed soundly.
In...and out.
In...and out.
Damen admired the slow rise and fall of his chest, along with every inch of skin his eyes could reach, and thought, if he didn't desire other things, he would be content to do so, undisturbed, for as long as Laurent would allow. As it was, Damen selfishly wanted to be closer still, to touch him—
He gently swept the tips of his fingers from Laurent’s collarbone to the base of his throat, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder.
“Laurent,” Damen crooned against smooth skin, then watched his face, indescribably pleased when the corner of Laurent’s mouth twitched into a delicate, half-smile as he stirred. Somewhere peacefully between sleep and consciousness, Laurent shifted into him with a muted, drowsy grunt, nuzzling in search of him.
Damen found himself struck, as he often was in the face of these small, unthinking gestures, by the intensity of intimate moments with Laurent, the significance of being privy to them at all. He would not easily forget how many mountains they conquered to get here, nor would he shy away from the ones that remained. In their journey, Laurent had stitched himself, irremovably, into the very fabric of Damen’s being, and so, each step toward this closeness seemed momentous.
It was everything, because Laurent was.
Laurent blinked awake, his hint of a smile growing wider, piercing blue eyes nothing short of adoring.
“Damen.”
It still punched in Damen’s gut to hear his name flow freely, so lovingly and sincerely, from Laurent’s mouth. With it, he seemed to say things he couldn't yet form words for.
Damen opened his arms, and Laurent came into them without hesitation, reciprocating with a sweet kiss to the edge of his jaw. He slid his palm across Damen’s chest to rest on his neck, his thigh hooked over Damen’s. At his hip, he could feel Laurent in his nakedness, soft. Damen recalled the night, the feeling of Laurent rousing against him, for him, growing more open and receptive each time they made love.
Desire sparked inside Damen, a warmth that began deep in his belly and permeated outward. Despite it, there was no rush. They had the luxury of time. Mornings often felt that way between them, as if everything slowed and the world was theirs alone, even if obligations threatened to pull them from each other, in his experience, much too quickly.
That would not be the case today. Lentos was theirs to enjoy fully, even if that meant never leaving the palace bedchamber, though Damen hoped he could talk Laurent into a few additional things. Nevertheless, it was effortless to block the outside world from his mind as he leisurely carded his fingers through Laurent’s hair, also soft, mussed from the night.
“How did you sleep?” Damen asked.
“Kiss me a proper good morning, and I'll tell you,” Laurent said, ever the conspirator, even upon waking. He could negotiate his way through the brick walls of an impenetrable fortress without breaking a sweat, Damen thought, fondly.
“It's too early for bartering,” Damen replied with a similar sentiment, unable to hide his happiness: Laurent wished to be kissed first thing, and Damen would eagerly oblige him, without any stipulations. He was already tilting Laurent’s face to his with a finger beneath his chin. “I’ll kiss you good morning for free.”
Laurent’s smile was apparent as their mouths met, closed and gently pressing at first. Damen nearly felt foolish, the way his stomach fluttered at the sweetness, Laurent shifting closer still, breathing deeply into the kiss. His fingers found purchase in Damen’s hair, gripping harder as it deepened. Never before had Damen experienced this yearning for another, ceaseless and building. He relished the feeling of Laurent’s tongue, hot and wet, slipping into his mouth, and every place their bodies touched, skin to skin, olive to alabaster.
Seconds became minutes, and as the kiss again turned soft, Laurent sighed, a sound like contented relief, into his mouth. It clutched in his chest, and he pressed his lips, twice more, to the corner of Laurent’s mouth, then to the gorgeous flush that rose to his cheeks.
“Adequate?” Damen asked, voice low and eyebrow raised. It had the desired effect.
Laurent laughed, burying his face into the crook of Damen’s neck. “I suppose,” he said with an amused drawl, then, honestly, “I slept quite well,” holding up his end of the bargain.
“I'm quite glad,” Damen said warmly, and tightened his hold on Laurent, thinking back, briefly, to Ravenel. It was difficult to reconcile that version of Laurent with the one in his arms now, giggling and perhaps as carefree as Damen had ever seen him. There were fleeting glimpses of this before—hopping rooftops in Nesson-Eloy came to mind—but the overall change in Laurent was staggering, breathtaking.
Those nights occurred many mountains ago.
“I feel,” Laurent began, without removing his face from hiding, “more like—myself than I ever imagined I could be again.” He pushed up on his elbow to look Damen in the eye with his next words, his voice unwavering as it always was, despite the flurry of competing thoughts Damen knew to be swirling his mind. “I owe that to you.”
Damen shoved aside the pang in his chest, aware that he, too, acted as a catalyst for Laurent’s suffering, long before they knew one another. Laurent’s forgiveness, and his own in return, allowed them to have this. It was done. Brother for brother, in the end, and one love for another.
Damen cupped his face, thumb sweeping over Laurent’s cheekbone. He could not remember holding something so precious, so beautiful, in his hands before.
“I owe it back,” Damen told him, “All I have, I give to you.”
Laurent’s flush deepened, his gaze lowered. Damen longed, somehow, to capture these moments and save them concretely. The human mind alone was fallible, forgetful. Damen wished to commit the way Laurent looked at him now to his memory forever. His mouth quirked into a small, quiet smile, akin to the one he gave in sleep, with a hint of mischief.
“For free?”
Damen huffed a breath like a laugh and took Laurent by the bend of his knee, hauling him on top to blanket his body with Laurent’s. He kissed Laurent again, swallowing his squawk of surprise at the quick change of position, because he couldn't stand to go without it.
“Yes,” Damen murmured against soft lips, then after another long, languid kiss, desire building, he amended, teasing, “Well, perhaps I do require a few things.”
Laurent had begun hitching his hips, minutely and deliciously, into Damen’s abdomen, as if he couldn't help it, taking his bottom lip between his teeth in focus. The thought of Laurent, growing desperate for friction, seeking his own release with waning apprehension, was heady, overwhelming in its newness. Damen’s hands eased beyond the small of Laurent’s back to squeeze the swells of his ass in obvious encouragement.
“Is this—” Laurent breathed out, his mouth hot at Damen’s ear, “pleasing to you?”
He sounded curious, mostly, if slightly uncertain, in search of approval. Damen sought to dispel Laurent’s every worry, and with his grip, shifted Laurent down to feel his own cock, hard, thick and heavy between his legs.
“You tell me,” Damen said, when Laurent groaned quietly at its nudge. “Your pleasure is yours and mine, Laurent.”
Laurent cursed in Veretian, then demanded, “Kiss me.”
Damen obliged as Laurent continued the movement of his hips above him, unhurried. He adjusted his hold, slipping his fingers between to Laurent’s entrance, where his cock ached to be.
Laurent whimpered into his mouth. “If you wish to ride today…” he trailed off as a caution.
Damen had not given it a thought since they began. He did wish to ride. Laurent’s gift awaited him in the stables.
“There are many ways to get there,” Damen said, “Tell me what you want.”
“Damen,” Laurent said, beseeching, hands clutching at the juncture of neck and shoulders. The blush of Laurent’s cheeks spread to his neck and chest in splotches, stark against his fair skin, always so protected and tight-laced.
They would have to be careful of it in harsh sunlight, Damen reminded himself, as yesterday's memory of Laurent, half out of his mind with something like elated disbelief, crept into his thoughts, an illicit need jolting through him. Laurent had worn revealing Akielon clothing, then strolled from the baths and into the palace completely naked for Damen. Naked, as he was now, perfect in Damen’s arms. He desired nothing more than to please Laurent in whatever way he chose.
“Tell me,” Damen pleaded, Laurent’s face in both his hands. He thumbed Laurent’s bottom lip where his teeth had bitten down previously, and Laurent shocked him into silence when he used his tongue against it, delicately kissing the tip.
“I want you to take me,” Laurent started after a moment, voice just above audible, as if he either feared what he desired or feared to say it. “In your mouth.”
Damen responded with a low groan, a deep rumble in his chest, and flipped them instantly, Laurent sprawled against the bedding beneath him. He felt unhinged, on fire with all he wanted to touch, to taste. He needed to feel Laurent unravel in kind. Damen was well aware that meant taking his time, savoring him. Laurent preferred it.
“As you wish,” Damen said. He would worship every inch of Laurent on his journey.
He began with Laurent’s hands, kissing his palms before lacing their fingers together and pressing them above his head into the pillows. He took a chance, and whispered, “Leave them for now,” into Laurent’s ear.
Laurent was silent for a brief, calculated moment, then, he answered, “Yes, Exalted,” deliberately arching off the bedding in a sensuous, alluring motion before settling, gazing up at Damen as he straddled his waist. Laurent’s eyes darkened, a rebellious streak in his voice that played at his mouth despite his words of deference, as if he already knew the effect they would have.
He was right.
Damen choked off a moan and his cock throbbed, pushed to the limits of his control, as he knew he was pushing Laurent.
“You'll be my undoing,” Damen muttered, drawing in a deep, steadying breath on Laurent’s name as he continued, fingertips ghosting the length of his arms. Then, Damen dragged his lips slowly along Laurent’s jaw, peppering his neck with wet kisses—some gentle, others biting.
Laurent faltered under the attention to those sensitive areas, gasping out, hips canting upward. He was most responsive to the slightest touches, to tenderness, even more so with Damen solidly inside his confidences. Damen felt emboldened by it, while also cognizant of the trust Laurent placed in him through it, through this. Damen would never betray that, forever work to protect it, to deserve it.
Laurent did not move his hands.
His chest was next, smooth and broad for his size, begging to be kissed. Damen mouthed along his collarbones to the base of his throat, licking a stripe up the column of it as he grazed his thumb over Laurent’s stiffened nipples, lightly pinching. Laurent let out a sound of pure pleasure. Damen wished to hear it louder still, and so he took one into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the peak, sucking with a slick pop.
“Yes,” Laurent moaned, “Damen, yes.”
Damen moved to the other side, careful to keep his lower body elevated, Laurent’s cock in search of friction it could not yet reach. He wanted Laurent eager for his mouth and his mouth only.
Damen carefully used his teeth, no harder than he’d pinched, and Laurent sucked air harshly through his own, then asked, breathlessly, “May I resume the use of my hands?”
Damen chuckled, an amused sigh escaping him. Though aware of the initial request he had made, the sheer thought of Laurent, the imminent King of Vere whose regality emanated from his very being, genuinely seeking his permission for anything was entirely laughable, because it was just that: A request Laurent was free to disregard anytime he saw fit. Laurent knew that, too. He played along because he desired it, and if he weren't so out of sorts, his tone and smirk to match would've betrayed it, Damen was certain. He surged forward to capture Laurent’s mouth once more, tonguing him deep.
“Was that a real question?” Damen countered, satisfied when Laurent’s arms wound around his neck instantaneously in reply, fingers plunging into his hair.
“I want your mouth,” Laurent told him, and Damen shivered at his candor.
It was typical Laurent, in nearly any other context. He could always be wholly depended upon to tell the truth (except when he was lying through his teeth), at times brutally honest, whether one wanted to hear it or not. In bed, however, or in matters of feeling, he often hesitated, unused to those kinds of expressions. Damen was overjoyed that Laurent was opening to him this way, explicitly stating his needs and coming to expect them met.
“And you'll have it,” Damen assured, kissing him once more before easing down Laurent’s body between his open legs, spread to make room for him.
After asking outright, Damen would not make him wait...much longer. He kissed the soft skin of Laurent’s inner thigh, working inward until he reached the juncture of his hip, running his tongue along the cut of it
“Are you waiting for me to beg?” Laurent whined as Damen repeated the cycle on the opposite side.
Damen hovered his mouth right where Laurent wanted it, over the head of his cock, hard and reddening. Though Damen would never make him, he was intrigued by the idea. “Are you considering it?”
“Perhaps,” Laurent admitted, then, in a choked voice, “Damen,” as Damen took him into his mouth, thankfully, without any discussions of reciprocity as preamble. The last time they had done this, Laurent was unable to find his release, body singing with tension. Damen sought to ensure that would not be the case here.
Laurent lifted his hips, squirming as Damen slowly took him apart, lavishing the tip with his tongue, swallowing him down to the hilt. He used his hand, a twist of his wrist, to establish a rhythm that Laurent seemed to thoroughly enjoy, forearm thrown over his eyes, a litany of colorful Veretian curses and Damen’s name flowing from his gorgeous mouth. He wasn't quiet, the tension in his body of building desire rather than a war of relinquishing control.
Damen’s own release was of minimal importance to him then, but still, he couldn't stop the grind of his hips into the sheets in tandem with his mouth on Laurent, the irresistible noises from his lips driving Damen closer and closer.
From the sound of it, Damen was not alone in that, and he was giddy with it, stupidly satisfied. Laurent was a panting mess, glistening with sweat. He would come, and Damen would savor every drop of evidence of his release.
“Damen,” Laurent gasped again, and Damen nearly lost control himself when he felt Laurent’s hand at the back of his neck, encouraging. “It feels so—Unless you intend to—I’m—”
Laurent’s cock pulsed, hot and salty into Damen’s mouth as Laurent cried out, pressing up with his heels, arching off the bed. Damen threw an arm over his waist to steady him, eagerly swallowing everything Laurent had to give. It was glorious, akin to climaxing himself, in a sense, feeling Laurent give in to his pleasure, surrender himself over to the moment.
Damen groaned around his cock, sucking until he felt Laurent begin to soften, spent. Then, he remembered himself.
It would not take long.
Damen rose to his knees, and the first touch of his hand on himself was euphoric, Laurent breathing heavily below him.
Laurent had come from Damen’s mouth. The memory was hot, visceral. Damen could still taste him. He replayed the image, over and over, contemplating its significance.
Another mountain.
“You're perfect,” Damen told him, pumping his cock into his fist, “Your body, mind. I adore every part.”
Laurent heaved himself up to assist, cheeks flushed and lips parted, only to have Damen push him back down.
“Watch me, Laurent,” Damen said, “That’s all I—”
“Oh,” Laurent gasped, eyes widening as Damen suddenly reached his peak, striping Laurent’s abdomen white. Damen fell forward, overwhelmed with pleasure, head spinning. He braced himself over Laurent until he couldn't any longer, collapsing atop him, right into the mess he made.
Laurent grunted in a puff of air, holding him, and said, “I did not anticipate your—” He paused, stunned silent. “I enjoyed that more than I expected.”
“Enjoyed what?” Damen goaded, nuzzling into his neck, kissing softly. His body tingled with satisfaction, every muscle relaxed, for more reasons than one.
Laurent had come from his mouth.
“You lie in it,” Laurent offered as explanation, and Damen’s cock twitched against him.
Laurent had come from his mouth, and found pleasure in Damen’s release onto his stomach. His smile grew wide and smug as he lifted his head to look at Laurent, blushed with arousal and bashful, by the way he averted his gaze.
“Funny, I enjoyed it precisely as much as I expected,” Damen said, “Infinitely.”
“I see you are precisely as pleased with yourself as I expected,” Laurent smirked, “Infinitely.”
Damen saw no reason to deny it, so he didn't bother. “Yes.”
Laurent rolled his eyes and kissed him quickly, then groaned in struggle, “You're crushing me. Giant animal.”
Damen laughed, reluctantly rolling off him, only for Laurent to follow, fitting himself along Damen’s side. They were both sticky with sweat and come, in need of a trip to the baths, but for the time being, Damen was content to bask in the bliss of the moment, as Laurent seemed to be as well.
He toyed with a strand of Laurent’s hair, kissing his forehead. Laurent’s fingers trailed absently over his chest and abdomen, paying special care to his scars, the marks of Auguste and Kastor, brothers gone.
All was quiet, peaceful.
“I could grow used to this,” Laurent whispered.
Damen tightened his hold, kissed him once more, and answered, “Please do.”
+
“I have something for you,” Damen said, hand in hand with Laurent as they approached the stables.
The day was perfect for riding, a cool, comfortable breeze surrounding them, the sweet smell of summer flowers in the air. It took them until midday to make it out, after lounging in bed for hours, talking of wrestling, clothed, with Nikandros, among other things. They enjoyed breakfast that had been brought to them. Laurent fed him fruits. Then, after washing each other in the baths, followed by a leisurely soak, Damen decided it was time. Laurent agreed.
With the moment upon them, Damen was oddly anxious.
“What is it?” Laurent asked, blue eyes narrowing with careful suspicion.
“It's a surprise,” Damen told him, and Laurent brought them to a halt, tightening his grip on Damen’s hand. He wasn't alone in his anxiousness now, apparently.
“I'm not fond of those,” Laurent said, “The lack of time to prepare makes me—”
“Nervous?” Damen supplied, relieved to get the word off his chest as his pulse thrummed rapidly beneath his skin. “I'm giving you time to prepare now.”
“Mere minutes!” Laurent replied, voice climbing adorably high. Damen chuckled and reeled him in close, chest to chest. He ran his fingers through Laurent’s hair, a gesture meant to soothe.
“Do you trust me?” Damen asked.
Laurent drew in a deep breath, and blew it out.
“Completely.”
Damen couldn't stop his smile, irresistibly fond. Laurent trusted him. The thought was settling.
“Then close your eyes and wait here,” Damen instructed, and Laurent looked slightly horrified.
“Close my eyes?”
“Oh, come, Laurent,” Damen huffed. It was absolute nonsense that Laurent thought him to be the more stubborn between the two of them. “Just look that way then.”
“Acceptable,” Laurent conceded, pressing up on his toes for a quick kiss, then he, reluctantly, did as he was asked. “Hurry back.”
Damen left Laurent where he stood, shaking his head as he made his way into the stable to get Laurent’s gift horse. She was beautiful, broad-shouldered and strong. She stood tall, her mane white as snowfall, like the rest of her. She was fit for a King.
Damen secured a blue, silk sash around her neck, embroidered with the starburst insignia of Vere, a gift from Charls. When Damen had made to pay him for it, he humbly refused in the name of his Prince. Damen appreciated such devotion. Laurent deserved nothing less.
“Be good for him,” Damen whispered to her, taking her by the rope and leading her out.
He feared his heart would beat from his chest when his eyes landed on Laurent once more, still in the exact place, posture tense. He brought her as closely as he could without being heard and stopped, clearing his throat.
“Turn around.”
Laurent did, mouth open in preparation to speak. When he saw the horse, it snapped shut, then fell open again, a look of pure bewilderment in his eyes that caught fiercely in Damen’s chest.
Laurent brought his hand to his mouth, covering it briefly, his cheeks flooding with color. Damen closed the distance between them, and as if she knew the significance of the moment, the mare bowed her head to him.
“For me?” Laurent asked, something akin to wonder in his voice, reaching out to rub her snout. His touch was delicate, like he couldn't believe she stood before him.
“Yes,” Damen confirmed, “I hope she suits you.”
“I love her,” Laurent said, looking at him with intense eyes that conveyed more than words alone. “Damen, I can't—” He pushed the rest out. “I can't believe. I'm not—I don't know what to say.”
Damen was struck with the weight of Laurent’s surprise, and the belated realization that Laurent would not be used to receiving such a personal gift, given without questionable motive.
For so long, Laurent guarded himself so closely, and for good reason. Everywhere he looked, there was treachery and betrayal, even from those who were meant to love and protect him. He expected nothing, certainly nothing positive, from anyone.
Now, Damen wished to give him everything.
“If I had known an exchange was planned,” Laurent continued, bashfully, speaking quickly in his nervousness, “I would have something for you in return. I—”
“Laurent,” Damen stopped him, “Laurent, my love—” Laurent blinked at him, taken aback. Damen was unsure if it stemmed from the gift itself, the endearment, or both. Still, he stepped into Laurent’s space, cradling his face in the hand without the lead. “For free, remember?”
“For free,” Laurent repeated. Damen could see him mulling over the idea, reconciling it with his past, and adjusting what he knew to be true. He wrapped his arm around Damen’s neck and pulled him down for a proper kiss, hard and passionate, to say what he couldn't. Damen heard him, his happiness surely palpable.
When they pulled apart, Laurent said, “She is breathtaking. I will cherish her.”
“What will you name her?” Damen asked, and Laurent furrowed his brow in contemplation as he took her in. A moment passed. Laurent ran his fingers over her sash, the embroidery. Charls had done a fine job.
There was a spark in Laurent’s eyes “Étoile,” he decided, the word rolling gorgeously off his tongue.
“Star?” Damen asked, and Laurent nodded, drawing their foreheads together.
“I’ve received only one gift better,” Laurent noted, matter of fact.
Damen was unbelievably curious, partly jealous of its giver. “And what was that?”
Laurent pressed their lips together once more, sweetly, tenderly.
“You.”
+