Chapter Text
Laurent was fucking horny. There was just no other way about it. It was the worst kind of horny. It was the directionless kind of wanting, that sat low in his stomach and made him even more irritable than normal.
Ancel very much knew it too because he kept making comments about Laurent’s frigidity and total lack of love life. Like Laurent wasn’t perfectly aware that he hadn’t had sex in nearly a year. Not that he was counting. But in his defence he felt like he had been living in a brothel since the beginning of the school year so it was hard not to be aware. Which was a consequence of living with Ancel. Ancel and his endless parade of men.
“You could always just pay for it,” Ancel said with no small amount of amusement, standing in front of the ostentatious gilded mirror it had taken three men nearly an hour to manoeuvre into their shared apartment “what’s the point of being the son of a Duke if you can’t splash some cash on the things that truly matter?” he said, fixing some earrings into place that might have been worth more than the apartment itself. A gift no doubt.
Laurent wasn’t quite sure his father would see things the same way but then, Laurent didn’t know a lot of people who saw the world the way Ancel did. Ancel was the spoilt youngest son of the Marquess of Lys and he’d been fucking his way through the social elite of Artes since he was old enough to figure out what to do with his cock. To him Laurent’s lack of love life was a crisis.
“Faces like mine don’t pay for sex,” Laurent said shifting his eyes back to the book in his lap.
He wasn’t taking in a single word, he knew this game with Ancel and it might get ugly. It often did. Nearly six months of living together -by absolutely no choice of Laurent’s- had done little to temper the fundamental differences between them. Laurent rather liked him for it.
“Well then what’s the point in a face like that if you don’t use it?” Ancel said and from the corner of his eye Laurent could see Ancel had his hands on his hips and was staring at him somewhat expectantly.
“I use it,”
He didn’t. Ancel knew it too.
“Just do us both a favour and come out with me, you need an orgasm and I need you to have at least one day where you’re almost relaxed,” Ancel said
Little did he know Laurent hadn’t been relaxed a single day since his tenth birthday party when a very pretty trapeze artist broke the heirloom chandelier in the ball room at Arles during her performance. She shattered not only several of her own limbs but also priceless family crystal, and all of Laurent’s illusions about how safe the world was. It had all been downhill from there.
“I’m too tired,” he shot back instantly and the thing is, he was tired. Auguste had drunk called him at 3am the night before and Laurent had been in classes all day. Plus, he’d had an appointment with his psychiatrist Paschal. He really was tried. But being twenty and entirely without even the vague resolve to make plans on a Friday night was a little bit depressing, he’d give Ancel that.
“You’re too frigid is what you mean,” Ancel said, drawing Laurent’s eyes as he swiped the wine bottle from the coffee table and refilled both of their glasses. When he replaced the bottle, he put it on top of a pile of books that had been sitting there since Ancel had begun his final year at the University of Marlas five months ago.
In all the time they’d lived together Laurent had only ever seen Ancel pick up one of his course books once. And that was to kill a spider. In fact, the only book he’d ever actually seen Ancel studying was an LGBTQ karma sutra like he needed any help with those things. But then, maybe he didn’t do it for help, he probably did it for inspiration. He was sure Ancel’s OnlyFans appreciated the effort. The Marquess certainly did even if he didn’t know it. After all, Ancel’s endeavours were saving his father a veritable fortune, now he was subsidising his own allowance.
Ancel and Laurent were fundamentally very different people. Point and case: Ancel’s bedroom was a makeshift porn set that saw more men than an Amsterdam whore-house, and Laurent- didn’t work like that.
“I am not frigid,”
Which he absolutely was not, thank you very much. He just didn’t fuck anything with a pulse the way Ancel did. Laurent wasn’t a one-night stand kind of person. He didn’t do that well in relationships either when he really thought about it. But he did like sex. It was a conflict of interests he was well aware.
“Sure because the only person you have sex with isn’t yourself or your useless ex,” Ancel grinned around the rim of his wine glass “speaking of, who was your late night phone call to? Bastian by chance?”
At the sound of his ex’s name Laurent felt himself straighten and he glared down at his book. He hadn’t spoken to Bastian since the last time Laurent had been drunk enough to get back into bed with him. Which was the last time he’d had sex not-so-coincidentally.
“Auguste,” he said simply instead of the many things he could have said.
Mostly because Ancel was one of the very, very few people privy to the secret. It was his father, after all, who had helped cover it up last time things got bad. Rehab wasn’t easy to hide when you were the eldest son of the Duke of Belloy and had a habit of courting the media’s attention.
“Third time this week,” Ancel commented dryly “so let me guess, he’s coked up again and called you because Collette dumped him again,”
Laurent bristled despite himself. It was true but that wasn’t the fucking point.
“Repeat it and I’ll kill you in your sleep,”
“It is like that again then?” Ancel asked, ignoring the threat with a roll of his eyes.
That being the time about five years ago when Auguste had first gone off the rails. And back then, just like now, Auguste was far too proud and far too stupid to admit he needed the fucking help. Not that Laurent should give a shit after what his darling brother had said to him just last night. I’m not as fucked up as you. Spoken in slurs between sobs about Collette- his long term on-off fashion model girlfriend, and rants about an argument Auguste had had in a bar with Damianos. Again.
Laurent loved his brother, but sometimes, just sometimes, he fucking hated him. He supposed that was how Auguste felt about him too. It was Laurent’s fault, after all, and really Auguste wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t as fucked up as Laurent.
But he was much worse at hiding it, so did that even the field? Laurent thought so.
“If he doesn’t fix it himself I’ll tell our father and laugh when he cuts him off from the accounts and suspends his cursory title,” Laurent said, still glaring at his book like it was Auguste himself. See how well Auguste liked not being able to call himself an Earl. He’d hate it just on principle. And because then Damianos would outrank him and would never let him forget it.
“He’ll come around, Auguste has a knack for getting out of trouble just in time,” Ancel said
Laurent’s only response was a noncommittal hum.
“I’m going to the new boat bar by the way, at the harbour,”
“Really, the boat bar is in the harbour?” Laurent asked finally turning his eyes on Ancel who was downing the last of his wine and pulling his shoes on. A crop top and thigh highs in the middle of February. Honestly. Ancel subscribed to the opinion that less was more and took it far too seriously.
“Shut up dickhead, I meant if I see Auguste shall I get him home?”
Laurent pulled a face behind Ancel’s back. He imagined Auguste was very high up on Ancel’s to-do list and just the thought of those two train wrecks colliding made his head hurt.
“No, hopefully there will be a better distraction there, like Collette,”
“Or Damen,” Ancel said turning back from where he was preening in the mirror again and wagging his eyebrows at Laurent “twitter was all over that argument they had last night at Scarlet Lounge, apparently-“
Laurent held his hand up “I don’t care,” he said and he didn’t.
Not to mention he already knew. He’d seen twitter himself and it was all over social media anyway. Plus he had it in slurs from Auguste last night. It was nothing new. Auguste and Damen had been fighting for years. Sometimes it got physical like at the Okton a few years ago when the whole thing had been stopped because of their fight mid-presentation. Or at the Duke of Ishtima’s wedding last year. Or that first fight seven years ago, out on the veranda at the estate in Arles, when everything had changed between them seemingly in the span of moments.
Laurent had never figured out what had happened. He’d hated Damen with Auguste just because. Well, he had been mostly confused but vehement on Auguste’s behalf, and then the next three years had been a bit of a horror show for Laurent and by the time he was surfacing for air Auguste’s fight with Damen was the least of his priorities. Because then Auguste had been in Rehab and then there had been Bastian and that giant mess.
It had never felt like a good time to ask exactly what had happened. So he hadn’t. Not that it mattered. Damianos was a prick and Auguste always took the bait. It’s not like Auguste would tell him anyway, he tended to change the subject or deflect with a rant about Damen’s latest antics in the media if Laurent ever brought him up.
“Right, well, wish me luck,” Ancel said giving Laurent a twirl like he could give two shits what he was wearing before breezing out of the apartment. If he slept in his own bed that night it would be a surprise.
The silence that engulfed him as soon as Ancel left was made worse by the restlessness beneath Laurent’s skin. Probably also made worse by the third glass of wine he started on as he eyed the rest of the bottle and the clock thoughtfully.
Maybe it was because he was tired and a bit wine brave. Maybe it was because Ancel had mentioned Bastian. Maybe it was because he was just needy enough not to be thinking too hard about it. Whatever it was, bad decisions were imminent.
The kind of bad decision that had him opening a new message on his phone. It was a flag; it was obviously a flag. If the conversation thread had been deleted, he shouldn’t be sending the message.
But Bastian was single again now and Laurent knew him already and he knew Laurent. It was familiar even if it was inevitably bad for him.
It was poor form, texting your ex, but Laurent had been making that mistake one way or the other for two years already. Laurent didn’t even like him. The prick had cheated on him after all. But he was easy and familiar and it was less daunting than someone new.
Laurent found new so daunting, in fact, that in the two years since his split with Bastian Laurent had only slept with one other person. An ill-fated boyfriend that hadn’t lasted long. Mostly because he’d been straight. Laurent really had terrible taste in men. But then he already knew that.
But. Needs must.
He had the place to himself, he was relatively sure there was no one sequestered away in bondage in Ancel’s bedroom tonight -which had happened more than once- and Bastian was single and back home for his sister’s imminent wedding. And as she was an Earl’s daughter marrying a Marquess it meant Laurent was likely going to see a lot of Bastian in the coming weeks. If there was one thing the nobility knew how to do it was drag a wedding out with parties and gatherings across six solid weeks.
Laurent was inevitably going to see him soon and it would probably happen then anyway so why wait?
Fuck it.
You:
So in the name of pissing Auguste off you should come fuck me. I want it so bad xxx
Auguste hated Bastian and he’d just done an interview that took a few swings at him as Auguste was often wont to do occasionally, so Bastian would already be riled. But Auguste had it coming, Laurent was just annoyed enough at his brother after his shit all week to see it as a motivation not a deterrent. To Bastian, riling Auguste was likewise a motivation. And they always needed to play at an excuse. Or at least Laurent did.
He tossed his phone back down onto the sofa and set about tidying up the living room. In the kitchen he put away as much of Ancel’s mess as he could and the rest he dumped in the dishwasher for later.
The bedroom was messier than he remembered it being, so he put away the books scattered on the floor and then kicked a discarded blanket and his dressing gown under the bed for future Laurent to worry about. Present Laurent had more important things to be doing in the bathroom, taking care of business and the slightly less glamourous aspects of imminent anal sex when, after almost half an hour, he realised he hadn’t heard his phone go off with a reply. Which. Wow. Rude.
He went back to the living room, scowl already forming on his brow as he threw himself back on the sofa and scooped his phone up. When he unlocked it the message was still sitting right where it had been, with nice little ticks to show that it had been read.
Arsehole. Was Bastian ignoring him? Oh god was he ignoring him? Fuck. That hadn’t even crossed Laurent’s mind. Was he…
Wait.
That wasn’t Bastian’s name.
Fuck. With a shriek he would never admit to making Laurent half threw his phone, not caring as it landed with a thud on the coffee table and slid right off the other end because holy fucking shit.
It would be better if it was broken. It would be better because then he’d never have to look at his mistake ever again.
Holy fuck. Fucking fuck.
The reason Bastian hadn’t replied was because he hadn’t text Bastian. He’d been so sure. How could he make that mistake? Was he drunk? Because Laurent definitely didn’t feel drunk, especially not after the mini-heart attack he’d just given himself.
This was how he died. Ancel would come home to find Laurent dead of humiliation on the sofa. Why was this his life?
He was such a fucking idiot. He didn’t deserve a degree. He didn’t deserve the University of Marlas, he deserved to go back to fucking primary school to learn how to fucking read. Fuck. In his defence, in his slim, tiny slither of a defence, he had text the contact right above Bastian in his phone. A contact that didn’t have a thread either.
He’d been so close to not fucking his whole life up. Or fucking it up in a totally manageable normal way. Because Bastian getting a half-drunk booty call at eleven at night was wildly, wildly different to fucking Damianos getting one.
Fuck. Laurent threw himself backward, tipping his head against the sofa and covering his face in his hands. He could feel how red he was going. This was bad. His stomach had sunk somewhere through to the other side of the fucking world and his heart was pounding like he was being chased by a rabid dog.
Barbarian. Barbarian. Why the fuck did he save him as that?
Aside from the fact that it was Auguste’s favourite word for him. And oh fuck. Auguste.
If the shame didn’t get him then Auguste was going to. Laurent was mad enough at his brother to text Bastian but he wasn’t fucking insane. Auguste hated Bastian, sure, most people did. But it was nothing to the Damen thing. Bastian was an prick but Damen? The thing with Damen was personal. Inherently personal. Too personal really, not to mention one of the media’s favourite topics. Especially after their run-in last night.
Fuck.
Auguste and Damen had been friends before, both the heirs to two of the premier dukedoms in the country, destined for politics, media darlings before they were out of school and natural companions as they were born only months apart. They’d been practically inseparable. It was one thing Laurent remembered most from his childhood. Where there was Auguste then there would be Damen. It was an unshakeable fact. Until it wasn’t.
It changed overnight. Overnight Damen changed and before anyone could blink they were physically fighting and Damianos, huge hulking barbarian that he was, took a swing at Auguste that had nearly knocked him unconscious.
Damen, who had just received a booty text from Laurent. Damen, who he had not spoken to since the Ceremonial Games in July. Also incidentally the last time he’d seen Bastian. Laurent had barely interacted with Damen in seven years. Why did he even have his fucking number? Why did he keep it?
Oh! Damianos had put him in his car the last night of the games when Laurent was pretty fucking drunk and he’d put his number in his phone and made Laurent promise to let him know he got home okay. Which was ridiculous and moot because Damen’s driver wasn’t going to be stupid enough to so something terrible like murder him.
Laurent only remembered the incident in flashes because he had been tequila drunk -thank you very much Nicaise- but Damen had been huge and strong and infuriatingly nice about it all. He hadn’t told anyone he’d held Laurent’s hair whilst he threw up in the gutter like a fucking commoner. And considering his willingness to shit talk and bait Auguste to the press Laurent had been incredibly surprised not to find it front page news afterwards.
The only other interaction they had shared was back when Laurent was still a child. Or thirteen and maybe-sort-of-definitely realising he wasn’t straight when he saw Damen naked and dripping wet coming out of the lake at Arles like some crazy hot demi-god that had no fucking right.
But!
Damen hadn’t been mean to Laurent in all that time. Maybe he wouldn’t sell him out to the press. Or his brother. Or any of the hundreds of people in their shared social circle, all of whom would be at the wedding in six weeks.
Fuck his whole fucking life.
How did he fix it and stave off a panic attack at the same time? What could he say?
LOL sorry not meant for you would definitely make it seem like he was getting annoyed over the fact Damen hadn’t replied. Or maybe make him look like a teenage boy who might as well have said LOL that was my friend he’s sitting next to me or something equally as embarrassing.
It was made all the worse by the condemning ticks confirming Damen had read it. Laurent was hoping like hell Damen hadn’t saved his number or had deleted it so it was just a random faceless number appearing on his screen right now.
When he heard his phone vibrate against the wooden floor he flinched a mile. Reluctantly, like a man going to the gallows, he slid down off the sofa and crawled around to retrieve his phone. He’d either be able to laugh it off or he’d have to throw himself off a cliff and all of that depended on the tone of the reply he’d just gotten. And after a half hour interval Laurent wasn’t hoping for the former too ardently.
He unlocked his phone, squinting down at his screen to prolong the blissful ignorance and read Damen’s reply. Because it was Damen. He had to read it five times before the words actually made sense to him.
Barbarian:
Pissing Auguste off and sex are 2 of my fav things. But do u always make a habit of asking relative strangers for sex??? xxx
And oh. Well. He hadn’t expected that. He should have expected that. Damen was the only other man who could give Ancel a run for his money. In a social elite whore-Olympics the two of them would place podium for sure. Laurent wasn’t sure which one of them would win gold. Probably Damen, he had consistently won both Bachelor of the year from the media giants, and a tongue-in-cheek award for most front-page love affairs every year for the last 5 years, saving that one year with the Jokaste scandal instead. Not that Laurent paid much attention to those things of course.
Laurent wasn’t sure what to make of it. Part of him was suspicious. A much more dangerous part was curious. Did Damen know it was him? Or was he just reacting to Auguste’s name from a sender he didn’t recognise?
Was he out? It was a Friday; chances were high that he was. Was he wasted?
It didn't matter. He should just take it back and move on.
You:
No, I usually only ask complete strangers. Ignore me xxx
There. That sounded alright. Not too stressed, not too embarrassed, totally cool. Yeah. Except no, because this was stupid and Laurent was an idiot and he was doing the matching kisses thing like he was fucking fourteen.
He didn’t expect a reply so when one came as he was halfway through typing a new text to actual Bastian. He was surprised and intrigued enough to click out straight away before he’d even finished composing his text. He was almost embarrassed by it.
Barbarian:
Well I usually only fuck ppl who haven’t thrown up on my shoes. Suppose it’s a compromise for us both. That is if ur still in the mood to piss ur brother off? ;) xxx
And wait. What? Laurent fish mouthed for a long moment as he reread it. Damen did know who he was. And wait. What? He knew who he was and he still wanted to come over? Well of course he did, Laurent had sent him a needy sex request and Damen fucked for sport but seriously?
Did he have to bring up the tequila incident? And would he really fuck him just to have ammo against Auguste? Or did Damen actually want to?
Laurent hated that the answer might kind of matter. Not that he was going to agree to this insanity that he’d accidentally suggested, of course. He wasn’t that desperate. Or stupid. He definitely wasn’t thinking about it.
Except where he was. Damen was, unfortunately, arguably the single most attractive man Laurent had ever seen. There was a reason he hadn’t been able to form a sentence in front of him when he was thirteen. There was a reason his inner teenage self was chanting yesyesyes. There was a reason Laurent sometimes lingered over Damen’s photo on Instagram or twitter, but there was also a reason why his self-preservation instinct was telling him he couldn’t trust Damen. Paschal would probably agree.
You:
First of all, I threw up next to your shoes not on them, not that it would matter, your style is horrible. Secondly, please don’t compromise your no doubt oh-so exacting standards on my behalf and lastly, if you only want to bait Auguste I take it back and you can unkindly fuck off. Xxx
He kept his phone face up in his lap, watching the screen intently as he waited for a reply he knew would be forth coming. He hoped at least. It would probably take a while for Damen to formulate some actual sense and in the silence that followed he was aware of his pulse and the skittish squirm of his stomach that felt almost like nerves.
There was nothing to be nervous about. He would find a way to skin Damen alive if this ended up online and it’s not like he was ever actually going to let Damen come over for sex. It was outrageous. Ridiculous. Definitely not happening.
Laurent had slept with a grand total of three people in his life. He wasn’t about to start randomly hooking up now and especially not with Damen. It wasn’t his thing. He didn’t do stuff like that. He didn’t trust anyone enough to do that. The idea always made his skin feel too tight. It was too vulnerable. Too much.
It would be weird anyway. Inappropriate. And weird. Had he said weird? Yes, well, it would be. He was Auguste’s ex-friend turned enemy for god’s sake. He was Laurent’s first real wank fantasy. He was a notorious player, probably riddled with god knows what, and he was loose lipped with the media whenever he felt like it. Add in Laurent’s many, many, many trust and sex issues and well. A veritable crucible of disaster.
He would probably be selfish in bed anyway. But then, so was Bastian sometimes. Most of the time. Whatever. Damen would be the worst kind of selfish and then he’d use it against Laurent and Auguste both in the future and sex wasn’t worth that.
Not even with men who looked like they’d just stepped down off some stone plinth in a museum, or out of some painting about ancient gods and their pretty faces and perfect bodies and alright- maybe he was thinking about it.
No one would blame him. it wasn’t his fault. It’s not like he was actually going to but imagining wasn’t a crime and-
The phone lit up and Laurent swiped at it instantly, not even bothering to care about how quickly those little ticks would show up for Damen.
Barbarian:
It was on them!!! But u can make it up 2 me ;) I promise the only thing I’m really compromising is my ability to hear ur name without getting instantly hard. Auguste who???? Never heard of him xxx
Laurent found his lips twitching without his say so. The dangerous squirm of his stomach as he read and reread his message made Laurent feel hot all over. Damen liked what he saw then. It wasn’t anything new, people told Laurent that all the time, but he might not be as immune to it from Damen.
You:
I’ll make it up to you by putting you in touch with a decent stylist. Am I supposed to be swooning? That you might want me? Tell me, do you think there’s even a small chance I haven’t heard that a thousand times? Xxx
The reply was almost instant this time and it was probably a good job because Laurent was spiralling.
Barbarian:
Ppl write songs about faces like urs and play them on repeat. The song doesn’t lose its meaning just because you’ve heard it before. And I’m not as interested in my clothes as I am in urs. Specifically, taking them off xxx
He had to swallow, read it again and again and what the fuck? There’s no way he didn’t steal that line from somewhere. It made Laurent flush despite himself; a smile curling his lips upwards.
You:
Oh, are you a poet now? And how do you know I’m not already naked? Xxx
Barbarian:
I could be for u, if its what u want. Ur not naked, I don’t think you’d deny me the pleasure of undressing u, would u?? xxx
You:
Yes, I’m desperate for some plagiarised drivel. And do you want to undress me? Or is it the tease that you like? xxx
He sent it nervously, body thrumming with misplaced energy. He bit his lip, holding his phone in his hand and not even trying to play it cool with himself as he waited for a reply. His stomach was full with anticipatory little flutters and his heart was beating excitedly in a rhythm he couldn’t really deny to himself. Damen didn’t make him wait long.
Barbarian:
Send me ur address sweetheart. I’ll show u xxx
He hesitated, mind spinning and stomach fluttering and could he even do this?
Well yes. Probably. What was it his therapist said about opening himself up to new experiences? He probably didn’t mean it as literally as this though.
Plus, it was Damianos and Laurent would be lying if he said he didn’t occasionally still think about him when he was getting himself off, or having sex, which was a horrible thing to admit to. But it wasn’t his fault, closing his eyes and imagining wasn’t a crime. It was shitty though, really, to think of someone else like that.
Damen wasn’t safe though. He’d be different. The whole thing was different. He didn’t trust him. But then, Damen’s lovers were usually splashed all over magazines or twitter threads and it was always from them. Damen never said anything about them in the press so maybe Laurent could trust that at least.
He typed out his refusal. Hovered over send and bit his lip. He would still be horny and if he text Bastian now he’d inevitably think about Damen when he fucked him. The not knowing would drive him mad. His teenage self might manifest at the end of his bed during an episode of sleep paralysis and smother him with one of his throw pillows for letting this experience pass him by.
Fuck it.
He sent his address and waited until Damen told him he’d be twenty minutes before ditching the phone and grabbing for the wine bottle. He absolutely could not be blamed for the long swig he took to gear himself up. What the fuck was he doing?
This was stupid. He was stupid. This whole thing was insane and it was definitely going to come back to bite him on the arse. Had he really just agreed to have sex with Damen? Yes. Yes he had.
The nerves were second only to the excitement and he resolutely shoved them both down. He wasn’t a virgin. He could do this and it was fine, it was just sex. Just sex. With Damen.
But he had been horny before and now he was fucking gagging for it. He contemplated getting changed or splashing on more cologne or texting Ancel to ask what the fuck he was supposed to do in a situation like this.
But he didn’t, because one upside of Damen coming over instead of Bastian was he didn’t have to change or make himself look pretty for Damen. The fucking weirdo was answering a booty text from a relative stranger so Laurent felt like it was perfectly okay not to give a shit what he looked like.
Just over twenty minutes, endless amounts of pacing, several typed and swiftly deleted texts to tell Damen he’d changed his mind, and one more swig from the wine bottle later, there was a knock on the door.
Laurent flinched despite himself, eyes swivelling to the door he had not been pacing in front of. It couldn’t be Damen. The building had security; they didn’t let just anyone in. But then, would he bet against Damen’s ability to charm even the balding middle aged night duty guards? Besides Damen was the infamous son of the Duke of Ellium and cousin to the King, his face was very well known. Fuck.
He counted to ten, sucking in a nervous breath even as he tipped his chin up and resolutely shoved it all down in favour of just throwing the door open.
Damen was even hotter than Laurent remembered him, all skin tight shirt and bulging muscle and curls that Laurent really wanted to tangle his fingers in. He didn’t even try to hide the fact he was checking him out, so he fully expected the half smirk on Damen’s pretty mouth when he finally lifted his eyes. Nothing could have prepared him for the heat of Damen’s gaze though. Laurent sucked in a breath, arousal flooding him from nothing but a fucking look and it must have shown on his face because he swore he watched Damen’s gaze darken.
Laurent was in so much fucking trouble. He had underestimated the severity of this situation. Or what it would feel like to actually have Damen’s spotlight attention on him. His teenage self was combusting.
“Laurent,” Damen said and fuck, had his voice always been like that?
Serious. Fucking. Trouble.
“I’m assuming it is a rarity for you to remember your lover’s names at all, isn’t it? Shall I congratulate you that you seem to have remembered mine?”
Damen’s smirk was instantaneous and Laurent had a second to suck in a breath before he was being herded backward into his apartment. Damen took only the exact amount of steps he needed to cross the threshold and kick the door closed behind him and somehow he was bigger on the inside of Laurent’s apartment than he had seemed even on the threshold.
“Lovers,” Damen said and Laurent flushed at the low intimate tone he used “is that what we are?”
“Not if you keep ruining it by opening your mouth,” Laurent said trying to cling to whatever visage of haughty he could when he felt like his breath had been punched out of him, and there was liquid fire pooling low in his belly; nothing had even happened yet.
Damen’s expression this time was predatory and Laurent loathed the easy arrogance of it even when the look alone made him want to start panting. It was ten shades of annoying and insanely hot and Laurent really wasn’t sure what that said about his psyche. He’d ask Paschal.
“Having my mouth open is in your best interest, I assure you,” he said “at least, with what I’m planning to do to you,”
Visions of Damen sinking to his knees flashed through his mind and the harsh pull of air he had to suck into his lungs was most definitely audible. Damen definitely heard it. Yeah, he was fucked. 100% fucked.
“Plan on panting like a dog?”
It didn’t escape his notice that Damen was prowling, coming forward in lazy increments and like a well-choreographed dance Laurent was shifting backward, an unconscious enticement. He was breathing unevenly well before his back hit the wall and it left him in a rush as Damen took the opportunity to crowd him.
Up close and caged in Damen felt singularly huge. Laurent had to tip his head up to look at him and his eyes got caught on the dimple that appeared when he smiled. Roguish said his very interested cock. Endearing, said his much less interested heart. His mind was too busy focusing on the way Damen was planting a hand at the side of his head to give it a name.
“I love the way you talk,” Damen said leaning in just a little, close, intimate, eyes alight with something like laughter; only softer.
Despite himself an aborted breath of amusement left him. It was not the usual reaction to his manner; which Laurent had been told was caustic at best and impossible at worst. Damen looked delighted. Laurent didn’t flush. He did not.
“If it’s talk you’re after you could have just called me,” he said arching an eyebrow “you didn’t need to come all this way just to have me insult you, I’d have obliged,”
“You would make a fortune on a sex line,”
“Being paid to call men pathetic?” Laurent smirked “I do it for free, I’m very rich already see,”
“Just for the enjoyment?” Damen said free hand shifting up toward Laurent’s face, a ghost of a touch at his jaw, the promise of it, but carefully withheld “can I touch your face?”
Laurent blinked, nodded “I enjoy-“ when Damen touched his jaw his tongue decided to take a moment for itself, distracted by the feather light caress of fingers that ghosted along to his chin and back before stroking up across his cheekbone. Which still wasn’t rosy. At all.
“Yes?”
Laurent snapped his mouth shut, frowning “I enjoy you when you’re not babbling incessantly,” he said as Damen tucked a strand of Laurent’s hair behind his ear.
“But you do enjoy me,”
Aggravating, arrogant, annoying, accurate arsehole.
“Less and less by the second,” Laurent said, swallowing as Damen swayed closer, enough that Laurent could feel the tantalising heat of him, the promise of the hard press of his body.
Damen, he was realising, liked the anticipation to build. In Laurent’s opinion, the anticipation was already built. The electricity had been connected, the scaffold was coming down, there was a fucking sold sign on the front door and Laurent was moving the fuck in. What was he waiting for? A bloody invitation to come inside?
He was half hard from nothing and his insides were squirming delightedly and there was a pooling throb in his groin that made him want to clench down. If he had thought he was gagging for it before, he found himself quite re-evaluating now that he was building up a steady pulse of want, made all the more interesting for the knot of nervous energy that sat right alongside it.
Damen hummed, eyes scanning Laurent’s face like he was memorising him, fingers toying sweetly with his earlobe and the strands of hair he’d just tucked behind it.
“Pity, I’m experiencing the exact opposite,”
Laurent opened his mouth to retort, unsure what was going to come out but Damen cut across the first breath of his impatient huff.
“Can I kiss you?”
It was oddly endearing and entirely disarming and not at all what he’d expected.
“Yes,”
It came out in a breath; surprise, tinged with relief, and soaked in incredulity.
Damen didn’t immediately dive down and crush their mouths together, he let Laurent see the pleased expression on his face, the flick of his tongue over his lower lip, the dip of his eyes as he dropped Laurent’s gaze in favour of Laurent’s ready parted mouth.
He fought back the desire to lick his own lips in anticipation, focused on Damen’s eyes and how dark they were, on the feel of him in the spaces between blinks, between breaths, as he leant closer in slow increments.
The first press of his lips was a spark of sensation. His hand fell away from Laurent’s face, leaving their mouths the only place they were physically touching. Yet Laurent felt him everywhere, like invisible strings tugging them together even as Damen held them carefully apart; a slither of space that simmered with heat and agonising promise.
It was soft, testing, teasing; a gentle slide and shift that was more breath than kiss as Laurent’s lips parted and Damen hovered for a long second before finally pressing in. He groaned, hands rising of their own accord, drawn up into Damen’s artful curls. Reaching for him must have been the green light he was waiting for because Damen’s hands settled instantly at his waist and he stepped closer, into him, against him.
Laurent bit back another noise at the feel of him, the weight and heat and the gentle teasing lick of his tongue as Damen begged an entry, willing given, to dip inside. It was slow, a kiss that Laurent felt in every inch of his body. Fuck, Damen was good at it. Laurent was breathing like he’d been running and all Damen did was press him against the wall and kiss him like this was all he’d come here for; this slow, deliberate kiss that shifted and burned like molten fire beneath solid earth.
It was surprisingly intimate; the way Damen kissed. It wasn’t the rough claiming of his mouth or bruising clench he had expected. He made kissing feel like fucking; like Laurent was laid bare by this alone, like this was art and he was curating a masterpiece in Laurent’s mouth.
Laurent was melting, tugging on Damen’s hair and huffing at every shift of him, every unhurried press of his body that moved in such slow undulations Laurent wasn’t aware of his own body rippling until Damen’s thigh pressed into his hardening cock.
Tearing his mouth away, head hitting the wall, Laurent bit back a noise. Damen shifted without pause, mouth finding Laurent’s neck and picking him apart with more slow caresses beneath his ear, mouthing down the tendon, tonguing at his pulse and raking his teeth against his skin until he had Laurent whimpering.
Another cue, it seems, in whatever script Damen was reading from, he came back for his mouth, his kiss harder, more insistent and his hands skimmed downward until he was gripping hard at Laurent’s thighs and hitching him up.
Laurent gasped against his mouth as he was lifted, unaccustomed to being manhandled or thrown around like this but it was done so effortlessly that he could do nothing except let his legs fall open around Damen’s hips. Let Damen closer.
It was all tongue then, breathless, insistent and hungry as Damen started to grind against him. Laurent was helpless, could do nothing but tighten his legs around Damen and squirm against him for the friction he desperately wanted. They were still fully clothed and hadn’t made it out of the hallway and at least one of those things needed to fucking change.
“Bed,” Laurent said against his mouth, hitching himself higher so he could grind against him better.
Damen hummed, pulling away from the wall, hands going straight to Laurent’s arse and squeezing him closer. His hands were wide, burning even through the layers as his fingers worked to spread Laurent apart through his clothes.
He didn’t break the kiss, even as he carried Laurent to the hallway like he weighed absolutely nothing. He probably wasn’t even straining a little bit. The thought did all kinds of crazy good things to Laurent.
“Which one?” Damen asked, slowing as he turned his head enough to be nipping at Laurent’s jaw.
“You could put me down,”
“No, I really can’t,”
Laurent huffed amusedly “keep going,” he said against his mouth, nipping lightly at Damen’s bottom lip.
Damen groaned, clenching his fingers against Laurent’s arse and started walking.
“This one, stop,” Laurent said when they reached his bedroom door and laughed as Damen froze, turning his head.
“Yeah?” he grinned, turning to push Laurent against the nearest door.
Laurent breathed a laugh, nodding as Damen reached for the handle blindly and the wood fell away from Laurent’s back. He didn’t rock backward even a little, Damen held his weight entirely. Still. He didn’t even seem a little bit effected.
As soon as they were in his bedroom, Damen kicked the door shut and moved confidently, without direction, to drop Laurent down on the bed. He went with a bounce, half splayed and in complete disarray as Damen stared down at him.
The room was lit only by the lamp on his bedside table and in the soft glow Damen looked ethereal. Dark and huge and magnetic. Laurent propped himself up on his elbows and he half expected Damen to say something but he didn’t. He just stared, slow and sure and precise, and Laurent felt his gaze as surely as he’d feel his hands.
When Damen took a deliberate step back Laurent could only watch with ever increasing amounts of interest as Damen kicked his shoes off and reached for the hem of his shirt. He removed it slowly, to a purpose and with good reason. Laurent’s throat went dry watching him remove it, every single muscle in his impressively carved abdomen rippling as he did so; unveiling himself to Laurent’s hungry gaze.
Damen knew how he looked. And he looked fucking spectacular. He was bronze all over, his arms were huge, his chest and stomach hairless and defined like he’d been made not born. He took off his jeans in the same fashion, every sensual shift a tease, designed to deliver. That Damen knew his own body and how to work it was a fucking given. When he was naked he let Laurent look his fill, entirely comfortable and entirely correct to be. Laurent had never seen a body like that.
Laurent, already breathless and painfully turned on, barely held back a groan at the sight of him. He drank him in, head to toe and every space in between, eyes lingering for a long breathless moment on his cock. Damen, aware of it, reached down and wrapped a hand around himself, tugging slowly. Laurent didn’t need to look up to know Damen’s eyes were on him, he could feel the heat of his gaze against his skin, lighting him up like the intense beam of stage lights. He couldn’t have looked up even if he had wanted to. His mouth had flooded with saliva and heat was rushing him to his core because holy fuck. Damen’s cock. It was thick and long and slightly curved near the tip and fuck. Fuck. He was going to feel him for days.
Damen chuckled because apparently Laurent’s thoughts were plain as day on his face.
“Think you can take me?”
Laurent scowled, made himself shrug as idly as he could “my anatomy isn’t a problem,” he said.
Because if people -Ancel- could take a dildo the size and shape of a horse’s cock then Laurent didn’t see why he couldn’t take Damen’s very human cock, even if it was thicker and longer than Laurent had taken. What an absurd arrogant thought.
Damen misunderstood it seemed “I’ll go slow, I won’t hurt you or-“
“I’m not a virgin,” Laurent said, cutting him off and as though to prove it he sat up and reached behind himself, tugging his hoody and t-shirt off in one move before settling back.
Damen smirked again, predatory as he stepped forward until his shins were pressed against the mattress “good,” he said simply as he started to lean up, making the bed dip, poised as if to pounce “I’d hate for you to gain any unrealistic expectations about what this is supposed to be like,”
Infuriating bastard. Sexy as hell though. Infuriating sexy bastard.
“Oh, are you just that good?” Laurent asked even when he was swiping his tongue at his bottom lip.
“Yes,” he said simply.
If Laurent’s cock wasn’t all but throbbing in his joggers, and if he hadn’t clenched down on air at the sound of the word, then he might have been able to think of a rejoinder witty enough to not have to later retract when Damen no doubt turned out to be right. Instead he fixed him with a look that Damen could read as he wanted and stilled him with a foot planted against his chest.
Damen didn’t drop his gaze, even as Laurent let his head hit the pillow, air rushing from his lungs as he let his body go docile in unconscious invitation. Damen reacted, corner of his mouth lifting as he settled on his haunches between Laurent’ legs and made quick work of laying Laurent bare, joggers and underwear discarded to the floor in a matter of seconds.
Damen’s focus was razor sharp; his attention was microscopic. He didn’t even move for several long moments, just rested his hands on Laurent’s spread thighs and stared, bottom lip firmly in the purchase of his teeth. Ordinarily Laurent was not overly self-conscious, he knew the appeal in his body. It was all anyone ever said to him; his body and his face. But there was something in Damen’s gaze, something intense and wild and different that had Laurent’s heart beating harder and his body thrumming on the edge of embarrassment. Damen was gasoline and Laurent was a match, waiting for the strike and spark, undulating with the tension born from the intensity of Damen’s eyes.
He took a moment to appreciate Damen, all defined muscles and long limbs, dark hair and olive skin and a face lifted straight off of a magazine. That Damen was beautiful had never been a question, his beauty wasn’t the revelation lighting Laurent up inside, the revelation was in the reaction; in the alchemy of attraction and the pinpoint precision with which Damen had managed to reduce Laurent’s entire world to one bed and two eyes in a matter of minutes.
“Like what you see?” Laurent said, noting the bob in Damen’s throat as he swallowed.
Damen didn’t reply with words, just reached down to fist his cock and hissed a groan that spread a rosy flush across Laurent’s pale cheeks. He swallowed dryly, arousal thrumming low in his stomach, making him aware of just how hard he was and Damen hadn’t even touched him yet.
When Damen moved it was with a grace that belied his size. It was still predatory, even as he slinked forward, hands gliding up Laurent’ thighs following the breathy path he made with his mouth.
“You have no idea,” Damen said with a voice like gravel, as he licked a trail up the V of Laurent’s groin, all the way up to his naval, skirting his cock which was flat against his belly and aching and Damen’s intention was clear.
“I won’t do that for you,” he said on reflex, hands clenched into his duvet beneath him as he made himself meet Damen’s gaze.
Damen paused, turning his eyes up instantly, mouth hovering over Laurent’s cock, so close Laurent could feel his breath. They both ignored his cock twitching at the caress.
“Why? Saving it for marriage?”
He didn’t know how to say it, how to say I don’t trust you enough without ruining the vibe but he opened his mouth anyway. Damen halted him instantly with his hands up in the age-old sign of surrender.
“That was a joke, I’m kidding, I don’t want it if you don’t want it,” he said eyes gone wide “I wouldn’t-“
“Thanks,” Laurent cut him off, cheeks gone pink as his stomach squirmed in an altogether different kind of way. Warmer. Endeared. It was awful. Truly pathetic.
Damen canted his head like Laurent had said something strange.
“Of course,” he said “so, save your thanks for after I’ve sucked your cock,” he winked “unless you don’t want me to?”
“No,” Laurent choked out, heart pounding and stomach flaring with the annoying warmth as Damen waited for his go ahead. Again “knock yourself out,”
“My pleasure,”
Laurent’s head hit the pillow anew as Damen’s mouth closed around him, suckling gently and whatever the fuck he was doing with his tongue made Laurent want to fuck up into his throat instantly but he held himself down, made himself stay still.
In the next second he knew nothing but the searing heat of Damen’s throat as he swallowed him all the way down in one long bob and held himself there. Laurent could feel his throat working around him, a half choke erupting into the room accompanied only by the whine that ripped itself from Laurent as he tangled helpless hands in Damen’s hair, torn between pushing him down further and pulling him back in sheer surprise.
Instead he just let them rest there, holding on for dear fucking life as Damen bobbed and lathed and turned his gloriously dark eyes up to meet Laurent’s gaze. It was hot, watching Damen’s obscene mouth stretch wide around his cock, taking it almost without gagging and then purposefully choking himself by slamming down hard and fast. And all the whilst he worked his hand; a maddening counterpoint around his cock that had Laurent’s breath getting choppy.
He felt his orgasm creeping up on him, stomach getting tight as his hips snapped up without his direction and he tugged hard on Damen’s hair to draw him off. He didn’t want to come yet. Not like this. He wanted more. If he came now then his part would be done and Damen would flip him and fuck him fast and hard and he didn’t want that. Laurent wanted to savour it.
“I’m close,” he said tugging at Damen’s hair
Damen only hummed, sucking harder, faster, his hand circling the base of Laurent’s cock a rhythmic squeeze that made his stomach jump.
“Damen,” he gasped, barely staving it off “not yet,”
Damen let him go, but he kept his fingers around him, still stroking. Laurent’s cock was still angled toward the wet warmth of his sinful mouth, nudging his bottom lip distractingly.
“Trust me sweetheart, it’s better if you do, you might need it,”
Laurent moaned as Damen flicked his tongue at his glistening head, bit his lip to stave off another when Damen smirked around it.
“But I want more,” he said, voice a shaky whine and god he’ll be embarrassed about it later for a certainty.
Damen just nodded “oh I’m nowhere near done with you, don’t worry,” he smirked “so come for me, let me taste you, I’m still gonna make a mess of you,”
Laurent’s breath hitched, mouth falling open as his hips pushed up reflexively at his words. Shit. Fuck. Trouble. Seriously. Laurent was fucking done for. He couldn’t remember how to form words, he could only nod, swallowing thickly and struggling for air as Damen swallowed him back down.
He came in mere moments, moaning his name, fingers clenching hard in Damen’s hair, hips pushing up into the inviting heat of his throat, filling Damen’s mouth until it ran over, dripping down the side of his cock, spilling past Damen’s lips and dribbling down his chin.
Damen looked satisfied when he pulled back, opened his mouth and flashed his tongue, let Laurent see the mess he’d painted there before he was swallowing pointedly. Laurent could only pant back at him, body gone lax and heart pounding wildly as he watched Damen make a show of wiping off his mouth, that fucking smirk yanking his lips up in a decidedly wicked expression.
Laurent couldn’t look away, just stared and stared and wondered what on Earth he could have possibly done to deserve this because Damen was the hottest thing that had ever existed ever. He knew it too. So did Laurent’s body because he was still mostly hard, barely softening even when he was still panting. He could go again. From the look in Damen’s eyes, again was about to be right now. Fuck.
“Laurent?” he asked, voice shot to shit, tone making it apparent that it was not the first time he’d said his name “where’s your lube?”
Laurent sucked in a breath, body moving on autopilot as he stretched toward the bedside table. He threw the draw open and rummaged around until his hand closed around a bottle of lube and a couple of condoms that he prayed were still in date. He wasn’t particularly proud of the way he all but threw them at Damen.
Damen chuckled, low and dark and fucking filthy seeing as he was coating his fingers in lube with his eyes locked with Laurent.
Laurent mustered a half-arsed glare and shoved his foot against Damen’s stomach “hurry up,” he demanded, giving voice to the simmer still sparking in his blood, the anticipation coiling back around him as he stared at Damen’s thick fingers, felt the empty space inside him like an ache.
“Patience,” Damen scolded, even as he was settling between Laurent’s legs and encouraging them back “hold them open for me,”
He did as bid, pushing down on the instinctive twist of discomfort at the inescapable intimacy of it. The exposure. The submission. Discomfort pushed words out before he could really stamp them down.
“I already prepped,” he said for lack of anything better to say to distract himself from Damen’s perusal and the intimate vulnerability.
“You wet baby?” Damen reached down as he spoke, pressing his finger against Laurent’s hole, testing the resistance.
Laurent’s eyes fluttered shut at the pressure and the surprise endearment, shifting into both the word and his finger despite himself.
He hummed, tongue feeling thick “yeah,” he breathed turning his eyes down to meet Damen’s gaze, aware he was flushed all the way down to his chest “wet for you,”
Damen’s entire expression screamed arousal as he held Laurent’s gaze and sank two fingers into him. It had Laurent lifting his hips, breath hitching as he clamped his mouth instantly shut, trapping a groan in his throat as he let himself sink into the sensation.
Damen groaned “fuck, you already feel so good,” he said
Laurent groaned again, fingers clenching hard into the meat of his own thighs as he fought the urge to close his eyes. He couldn’t, he didn’t want to miss a single thing. Instead, he locked his gaze with Damen’s, let him hold the stare as Damen pushed up with his fingers, stroking his insides with a searching purpose.
His fingers were as insistent as his mouth had been, starting slow and sure. It felt like moments or lifetimes before he was fucking into Laurent hard and fast, pausing only to add a third finger to the stretch of it. There was more lube, more pressure, more noise and he fucked Laurent open with his fingers with exquisite perfection.
Laurent pushed back erratically, still holding himself open even though he was twitching and shuddering whenever Damen saw fit to give him what he wanted. Damen didn’t take his eyes off him, even when his fingers were splitting Laurent open, he kept their gazes locked, relentless and intense and Laurent had never felt so seen or as wide open.
Damen was annoyingly -wondrously- observant and he reacted to every single minute shift or breath that Laurent made until he felt like he might as well be commanding him out loud. He had finger tips against his prostate, keeping them there and shifting hard and fast over and over until Laurent’s stomach was clenching as hard and as rhythmically as his hole was.
“Fuck you,” Laurent gasped instead of please when Damen teased at a fourth finger, thumb pressed down over his perineum and fingers still hitting everything just fucking right. He was throbbing again, he wanted to come, his whole body was shaking like it might, like it could, but it wasn’t enough, it felt just out of reach. Or he might orgasm without coming; that’s what the fuck it felt like.
“Ask for what you want baby,” Damen said and his voice was low, dark and rough and Laurent shuddered, moaning just a little as he let go of his thighs and let them fall.
“Fuck me,” he gasped out and Damen moved at once, withdrawing his fingers to reach for the condoms.
He was a trembling wreck, unable to think through the haze of desire, unable to do much more than watch hungrily as Damen split the condom packet open and rolled it down his thick cock, the head already slick in a way that made Laurent want to taste despite himself.
Laurent was panting, flushed and sweaty and desperate for him. It was startling: how much he wanted him, how needy Damen had him. But he looked just as wrecked for Laurent and he hadn’t done a thing. Damen didn’t take his time, he slicked himself up and nudged Laurent’s legs further apart. Laurent let him, licking his lips and eyeing his cock as he pulled his knees to his chest and turned his gaze up.
Damen’s eyes were already on him, burning with want and pinning Laurent in place as he tucked his knees in against Laurent’ hips and hovered over him.
“Ask me nicely,” Damen said suddenly, voice a low growl even as he smiled
Laurent groaned, hips pushing up wantonly as he tried to wriggle back against Damen like he could get him inside him by sheer force of will.
“Now Damen,” He hissed impatiently “get in me now,”
Damen groaned and dived down, pressing their mouths together in a kiss that was bruising as Laurent let his thighs fall open around Damen’s hips, trying to encourage him closer. With his kiss he tried to say a slew of things he didn’t want to say out loud, trying to make Damen get it. Laurent needed it. He did. He was trembling with it, hovering on the edge and he’d never wanted anything like he wanted Damen right then.
Damen broke the kiss; pulling back to reach down between them, angling his cock and pushing bluntly, teasingly, against Laurent’ hole “nice enough,” he said
Laurent opened his mouth around a retort that faded and bloomed into a moan as Damen thrust forward and Laurent’s rim started to stretch wide around Damen’s cock.
Damen pressed forward and Laurent felt himself opening around him; the delicious, impossible stretch of his body around his impressive cock, pulsing as it was breached and forced open inch by sweet agonising inch.
Laurent gasped, a sucked in breath that had him squeezing his eyes shut, half trembling. It had been a while. And he’d never taken anything as big as Damen. He bit back a noise, turning his head like he might suck the cotton of the pillowcase into his mouth. But Damen paused, breathing unevenly as his careful fingers skimmed Laurent’s jaw.
“Look at me,”
It was a command given with the softness of a plea and Laurent’s eyes opened on instinct, finding Damen and blinking back at him.
“I’ve got you,”
Laurent believed him. Perhaps despite himself.
He nodded and Damen held his gaze, started to press in deeper and every slow slide forward had Laurent’s mouth opening a little wider and his body rippling.
He tried to concentrate on breathing and committing to memory the delicious stretch and burn of Damen fucking into him. But he feared if he focused too closely on it he might come apart before Damen had even settled. It was so good, too good, had Laurent jerking and throbbing from the inside out as Damen finally pushed that final bit further and stilled.
Damen above him was panting, as deep in Laurent’s body as he could possibly get and it was a fullness that made Laurent feel impaled and pinned and like he was fucking floating all at the same time. He arced upward, testing the newness and he moaned, low and dirty and fucking needy in a way that had his skin pulsing with something that felt like embarrassment; only hotter.
“So fucking full,” he whined
Damen gave a heavy pant, a moan that slid along Laurent’s jaw as Damen’s mouth found his ear “you feel as good as you taste,”
Laurent whimpered, a small needy sound that tumbled out of him before he could lock it down. It wasn’t his fault. Damen was just everywhere, so big, looming over him and filling him up, stretching him wide and fuck. Laurent felt small and oddly fragile pinned beneath him and it was as startling to him as it was fucking hot. He sucked in a breath, stomach going tight.
“Fuck me,” he said gazing up at him and Damen didn’t waste any time, pulled back and snapped forward so fast Laurent didn’t know whether to hiss or whimper. Both. Definitely both.
He kept it shallow at first, until Laurent was pushing back demandingly, trying to angle his hips to get Damen in deep again; deep, so that Laurent could feel the bright spark of almost-pain right alongside the pleasure. Damen got the message quickly, flipped Laurent’ legs over his shoulders and all but folded him in half as he snapped his hips forward, fucking into him hard and fast and so fucking good Laurent could do nothing but hold the fuck on and let it happen.
His head felt like it was spinning, his body was alive and thrumming with an electric current and his mouth hissed obscenities he didn’t recall conjuring as Damen held him tight and made him take it. The pressure against his prostate was delicious, Damen’s size was obscenely good and Laurent was so, so close, if he could just let go for long enough to reach for his cock Laurent would be coming. Might even without it because Damen’s cock was hitting his prostate on every thrust, curving just right and Laurent was seeing stars.
When Damen pulled out completely Laurent’s whimper was one of near-despair. He wasn’t made to wait long. Damen sat back on his haunches, taking Laurent’s hand and coaxing him up and Laurent went, almost surprised by how badly he was shaking as he let Damen guide him into sitting in his lap. Damen held his cock steady for him, other hand splayed wide against Laurent’s back to keep him in place as Laurent rose up unsteadily and let Damen feed his cock back into him.
He sank down, eyes fluttering closed and head snapping back. The angle made him feel impossibly fuller, impossibly aware of Damen, of every solid inch of his cock as he split himself open on him.
Damen hissed, hands sliding up Laurent’s slick skin, settling on his hips as he leant forward and latched down with his mouth, sucking at his neck. Laurent’s fingers bit into Damen’s shoulders as he rose up again, thighs already shaking and let himself go, slamming back down with a ringing slap that had him moaning Damen’s name. Damen looked up then, mouth split slick and eyes dark and Laurent had never had anyone look at him the way Damen currently was.
“Take it,” Damen said, a breath against Laurent’s mouth as he leant up “take what you want,” he encouraged, pressing Laurent down to show him what he meant.
The hands on his hips slid down, clenching on his arse as Laurent started a rhythm, slower, more undulating, a deep grind. The hands on his arse spread him wide as Damen fucked up to meet him, pushing in deep and hard and holding himself there so Laurent could rock back and forth and fuck himself the way he wanted it.
He’d been told to take it before. It had never been meant like this.
Damen let him slow it down, let him move the way he wanted and just kept looking at him. Like he was a revelation, like Laurent was taking him apart and not most definitely the other way around.
Laurent was making more noise than he usually would, unselfconscious of it, unaware of it until it echoed back at him, blending with the slick wet sound of Damen’s cock fucking into him over and over again as Laurent rose up almost all the way and hovered with his rim held open around just the head before slamming down.
It was so good, so good all he could do was clutch at Damen and stare down at him, mouth open around a steady stream of punched out whimpers that Damen fed back to him on the tip of his tongue.
It was close, stuffy and humid and just different enough for him to be entirely overwhelmed. But it was a pace that couldn’t last, his thighs were trembling, his stomach was protesting and when he leant forward to push his forehead to Damen’s it was with a gasp.
“Damen,” he said instead of saying please. Damen seemed to hear it anyway.
He flipped him easily, like he weighed nothing, and the feral thrill of it set Laurent’s already frayed nerves off with sparks of added pleasure.
Damen had him on his knees, face pressed into the pillows and legs together before he sank back in. It was fucking obscene how good it felt as Damen gave it to him. Damen behind him was talking, leaning over Laurent so that their bodies were flush, growling indecent filthy things about how Laurent looked and felt and what he wanted to do and every word made Laurent’s toes curl and his cock pulse.
It was harder, faster; headboard thumping against the wall, bed and floorboards creaking as Laurent rode out the waves of pleasure over and over as it punched wounded breathless noises from him.
When Damen reared back he took Laurent with him, holding him to his chest, caging him in close until all Laurent could do was let his head fall back against Damen’s shoulder with his mouth open around a litany of noises.
It felt too good, too much, so deep he might fucking choke on it, deeper than anyone else had ever been. The thought had Laurent moaning, cock leaking a steady wet stream, dribbling onto the duvet. Damen’s voice when it came was almost his undoing.
“God come on sweetheart, come for me, give it to me,” Damen breathed against his ear as he reached for Laurent’s cock and circled his thumb and forefinger around the head; tugging fast and soft, thumb teasing in circles every few strokes and fuck.
With Damen’s quiet encouragements and pleas still warm against Laurent’s neck he came, entire body locking down as his orgasm ripped from him, spurting come against the bed as broken moans spilled out into the quiet of the room and he writhed against Damen wantonly; with complete abandon. He was seeing fucking stars.
Damen fucked him through it, slow so Laurent could work himself on his cock, shuddering, hips convulsing unconsciously as he came but Damen groaned with him, tightening his fingers around Laurent’s cock as he leant closer to press his mouth to Laurent’s neck.
“Fuck, Laurent, so fucking hot,” he mumbled against his skin still fucking into Laurent’s oversensitive body.
When Damen came it was with a loud groan, pushing deep and pumping erratically in short fucks as he rode it out and breathed Laurent’s name.
Fuck.
Laurent couldn’t move, could barely breathe, could barely think through the lingering haze of his orgasm. Damen held them together for a long moment, his heart pounding so hard in his chest Laurent could nearly feel it at his back.
When Damen let him go Laurent collapsed forward instantly, panting, still shuddering a little in random waves like his body was a live wire. It certainly felt like it was.
He closed his eyes, rolling onto his back and away from the wet spot, arm thrown over his face and mind blissfully blank save for the glow and rush of pleasure. He was aware of Damen beside him, still panting, shifting, the snap of the condom, the pleased hum as he leant over and pressed a kiss to Laurent’s shoulder.
Damen rolled away then and Laurent turned to watch him rise, unsurprised that he was just leaving. Except he didn’t pause for clothes so Laurent watched Damen pad bare-arsed out of the bedroom, listened to the sounds of him out in the hall, opening first one door and then a second. Oh. Probably looking for the bathroom.
It was evident when he heard first the toilet flush, then the plumbing start and a moment later Damen reappeared with a damp cloth to wipe off Laurent’s sweat damp, come stained skin. Damen was gentle as he wiped him down and Laurent just let him, spreading his legs when he needed to so Damen could wipe there too. The whole thing was even sweeter and more endearing for how entirely unexpected the gesture was.
When Damen was done, he pressed a kiss to Laurent’s belly button and discarded the towel to the floor before climbing back onto the bed
“Can I sleep here?” Damen asked as his hands slid up Laurent’s calves like he couldn’t help himself.
Laurent turned his gaze up, meeting Damen’s eyes as he sat between his invitingly spread thighs and just looked for a long few seconds. The sight of him was unreal, his hair was sweat damp and sticking to his neck, face flushed, eyes glassy, skin shiny with the sheen of his exertion. Laurent might be in even more trouble than he had originally thought. May-day level trouble, Houston we have a problem level fucked. Like the poor fucker who’d seen the iceberg on the Titanic and knew they weren’t going to be able to pull away in time.
He always got too attached.
He cleared his throat, made himself arch an eyebrow “you’re a cuddler aren’t you,” he said as derisively as he could when he was helplessly endeared.
“You better believe it,” Damen said unapologetically as he dragged half the blanket down, making Laurent shift and fidget until they could both get under the duvet.
Laurent let him, didn’t even really hesitate because Damen felt safer than he should. It felt far more comfortable than it had a right to. But then he wasn’t as much a stranger as Laurent had been thinking. He still felt familiar. The decision was no doubt helped along by the fact Laurent was still floating, sated and more relaxed than he could remember being in a long time. His body was already starting to ache but it was pleasant. Well-fucked.
Laurent rolled onto his side, tucking his hand beneath the pillow and just let himself look at him. Damen didn’t seem to mind, just blinked back at him, a small shy pleased smile on his face that Laurent had never really seen on him before. It did unpleasant unwelcome things to Laurent’s chest that sounded like a soft inevitable oh no.
It should feel awkward. The silence should feel strange. Damen should be rolling over and going to sleep or getting up with his phone in his hand as he wandered away idly. Or asked Laurent to go get him some water or a beer or to go shower or maybe tell him to leave or get dressed. But he didn’t. It was unobtrusive. Calm.
“You are truly mesmerising,” Damen said, voice quiet like he didn’t want to disturb the silence either.
Laurent scrunched his nose up “please don’t bother trying to charm me,” he said, both on reflex and because seriously, he couldn’t take that falseness from him. Not when Laurent was feeling this good and this defenceless.
“You think I’m being charming?”
Laurent rolled all the way over to face away from him with a sigh, hiding the twitch of his lips “I said try, which is an indication you were failing,”
“Is it?” Damen persisted behind him, amusement in his tone as he leant forward and Laurent felt his lips at the nape of his neck “how about if I said you are entirely unexpected and I find myself quite disarmed?”
“I’m sure,” Laurent said derisively, trying his hardest to pull at his defences, to not listen, to not let the enticing lie settle under his skin.
“What if I told you I’d missed you?”
Laurent turned over onto his back so fast he dislodged Damen. Heart suddenly beating a very different rhythm in his chest. Laurent frowned, glared, as his mind leapt instantly like a fire catching “I would ask what on earth you could have possibly missed about a thirteen-year-old boy,” Laurent said voice gone harder than he intended
Damen blinked, wide and surprised, scanning Laurent’s features cautiously before his entire face transformed “Laurent,” and he said his name patiently, in a tone that was distinctly measured and made Laurent stiffen “I’m not sure what- what’s that supposed to mean?” he said and Laurent flushed instantly, the wrong kind of heat creeping up his spine.
Damen’s face changed as Laurent’s no doubt did, just a flash, a twitch of his brows and Laurent tensed, sitting up to avoid being so close to him. This was uncomfortable, too much. Too close.
“I just meant,” Damen said, sitting up carefully beside him and Laurent understood Damen was choosing his words very fucking cautiously “in a nostalgic sense,” he said with a shrug “I thought you’d feel like a stranger but you don’t,” he said
And oh. Laurent was being ridiculous. Overreacting. Damen had never been too familiar with him back then. He’d always been nice, including him, never once asking why Auguste insisted on bringing his kid brother everywhere. He used to talk to him the way Auguste did, like he actually cared what Laurent was saying even when -maybe especially when- Laurent rambled excitedly without purpose at all. Inevitably, when Laurent shut up Damen would tease him mercilessly, but was careful to back down when Laurent looked like he was getting annoyed. Of course that stopped when he hit thirteen and he was tongue tied and useless around Damen except to flush a brilliant red or simply stare at him.
But Damen had never been like that with him. He had never encouraged him. If anything, he’d been very careful about it.
He forced himself to take a breath, heard Paschal in his head reminding him of all the many things he’d had to work on over the years. He was being defensive because he felt vulnerable. He was looking for a reason not to trust him because he wanted to trust him. And he did. Maybe part of him did trust Damen. He’d let him fuck him and that was already more than he’d do for someone else. The thought shouldn’t be as calming as it was when he already knew he couldn’t trust himself.
Laurent swallowed, made himself turn his head to see his face. Damen looked concerned which felt out of place. Laurent’s skin was itching. He should get up. Get in the shower. Tell Damen he couldn’t stay.
“I mentioned it to Auguste once, asked his opinion,” Damen said, derailing Laurent’s chain of thought.
“Mentioned what?” he asked, curiosity piqued despite himself.
“The thing you had for me,” and just like that Laurent’s mind leapt from concerned to embarrassed in an instant.
He flushed and groaned, covering his face with his hands as he threw himself back against the pillows “Oh my god, let’s not,” he mumbled into his hands because hello mortifying. He better not be under the impression that Laurent had been carrying a torch for him all these years. Oh god please don’t let him think that.
Damen chuckled and then Laurent really heard what he’d said and snapped his hands down “and what do you mean you mentioned it to Auguste?”
“I asked him how I should, you know, handle it, I didn’t want to hurt you but I didn’t want to encourage it and I was laughably panicked about it, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know,”
He weirdly was pleased to know that his super fucking obvious crush had made Damen panic. But still, what on Earth possessed him to talk to Auguste about it? Laurent hadn’t even talked to Auguste about it.
“What did he say?”
Damen snorted “he called me a pussy and told me I was imagining things because I was too full of myself,”
The laughter burst out of him before he could stop it and he only laughed harder at the wry indulgent smile on Damen’s face. He could hear Auguste saying it in his head, wondered what the fuck he’d have to say about Damen knowing what Auguste apparently hadn’t and then thought about what he’d say about this and just laughed harder.
It was contagious apparently because Damen couldn’t keep his amusement in check either but it was distinctly different to Laurent’s amusement. It was relieved; indulgent. Fond almost. The instant Laurent settled, still smiling widely, Damen was leaning closer stopping just inches away from Laurent’s face.
“Can I kiss you?”
Laurent’s heart was traitorous and cruel and this was most definitely a problem. Because he nodded and it felt like the easiest thing in the world to tip his head up and kiss him, still half smiling.
“So, does missing me mean I’ve not changed?” Laurent asked
Damen snorted “you mean aside from the fact you’re a walking fucking wet dream now?” he teased “not much, you’re still the same mouthy little shit you were back then,”
“I think you like it,”
It was Damen’s turn to laugh as he groaned and pushed himself closer, burrowing until he had his face pressed into Laurent’s neck “I really do,” he said, words a tickle against his skin.
Laurent chuckled, endeared as Damen hid his face and cuddled into him harder like the biggest most adorable little spoon ever.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Damen said when Laurent had given in and wrapped his arms around him.
“That depends how well you behave,”
Damen snorted against his neck and tipped his face up “I’m always well behaved,”
“That is an outright lie, you swore on live daytime television just three days ago,”
Damen paused, slow smile curling at his mouth and Laurent felt his cheeks heat up at the implied admission.
“You watched my interview?”
Yes and it’s not like he had watched it because he gave a fuck about Damen’s sports for kids charity or whatever.
“No,” Laurent said instantly “Ancel did,”
“Now that was an outright lie,”
Laurent knew his cheeks had gone a little pink because Damen reached up to brush his thumb across the condemning colour, smile annoyingly soft and surprised.
“Oh don’t be so full of yourself,” Laurent countered to deflect from the spotlight heat of it all.
Damen’s groan was instant as he buried his face back in Laurent’s neck, cursing himself and Laurent both in faux-annoyance. It was silent then for a long while and Laurent closed his eyes, basking in the hot press of Damen’s naked body against him and the rhythm of his breathing.
Damen’s hand swept down his side in slow, soothing strokes, idle and without purpose, from his tummy down to his hip with gentle fingers. He could feel the puffs of his breath stirring the hair at his ear and felt Damen’s soft cock against his thigh where their legs were tangled together. His brain focused on it, on how warm it felt, how strangely reassuring, how easy it would be to reach down and wrap his fingers around it. Not to stroke him. Just to hold. He didn’t, but it was a near thing and it wasn’t something he wanted to analyse too closely.
It was peaceful, right up until his stomach made itself known and he realised he was almost an entire bottle of wine and one vigorous round of sex deep into a night without any food.
Laurent cringed, scrunching his nose up at the ceiling accusingly and he already knew Damen was going to draw attention to it. And he did. Because he was the worst.
“I’m starving too,” he said smiling far too widely “do you have food?”
“No, I subsist on the enrichment of stupid questions,”
Damen snorted, already rolling away from him “I’ll cook,” he said and Laurent revised his previous thought about Damen being the worst because fucking thank god.
Laurent was a disaster in the kitchen and he faked his way into pretending he could cook by being able to nail two really easy dishes. And endless amounts of take out. And cereal. Damen grabbed his underwear on his way out, leaving Laurent alone as he swanned off into Laurent’s apartment like he owned it.
Laurent followed. He picked his underwear up from where Damen had thrown them, flushing hotly at the memory and the twinge in his muscles as he bent down to put them on. His shirt had gotten lost somewhere but Damen’s was to hand and Laurent didn’t really want to leave him alone longer than necessary so he pulled it over his head. He absolutely did not inhale all that deeply as he did so.
His internal concern over whether it was weird to be wearing Damen’s clothes was abated when he entered his kitchen and Damen did a literal double take, mouth opening as his eyes scanned down him and he blinked. If he had been holding something Laurent imagined he would have dropped it.
Feeling unreasonably smug about it he sidled up to his side, smiling innocently as he pretended to stare into his abyss of a fridge from beside him. Damen probably hadn’t been wrong to ask if he had food. The answer was no.
Damen was still staring and Laurent thrilled beneath it despite himself “you’re such a caveman,” he said turning his head
“Sorry but someone insanely sexy is wearing my clothes and I’m supposed to not react? Would you rather I hadn’t blinked?”
And well. Point. Laurent rolled his eyes and nudged him, nodding at his open fridge.
Damen’s swallow was audible but he did huff “you basically have no food,” he said and his tone said I knew it even if he didn’t actually say it out loud.
“I forgot to shop,” he lied
“Well pasta it is then, where do you keep your sauce?”
Ah. That.
“Ate it last night,” he said tipping his face up to smirk at Damen who rolled his eyes.
“Alright, plan B,” he said reaching into the fridge.
He had hummus, and some olives which were both definitely Ancel’s, and he found an abandoned cans of tomatoes and something else which Laurent suspected were also Ancel’s or from an ill-fated attempt to try to cook that had never happened.
Laurent hopped up onto the counter as he pointed idly around the kitchen whenever Damen needed something. He didn’t need much, just a pot and a knife apparently. He set the pasta to boil and Laurent watched him, keeping up an easy, steady conversation which consisted mostly of making fun of Damen. And when Damen was the one making fun of him Laurent settled for just staring at his gloriously half naked body with no small amount of smugness because he’d had sex with all that. And all that was currently making him food.
When Damen was shoving a bowl of on-the-fly chickpea pasta at him Laurent took it with no small amount of reserve. But it was good. It reminded Laurent of the flavours further south. Like in Ios. He liked it but he didn’t tell him so. Damen probably read it in his complete lack of comment anyway.
When Laurent got up to go and dump their empty dishes he caught sight of the time and realised Ancel most definitely wasn’t coming home tonight which was definitely a good thing.
When Damen came up behind him Laurent was not surprised. When his hands tangled in the hem of his shirt just beneath Laurent’s arse, he scrunched it in one fist, letting it ride up as his other hand skimmed up Laurent’s waist.
“Seriously you have no idea how good you look,” Damen said into his hair
“I always know exactly how good I look actually,” Laurent said, pressing back against him “but you’re welcome to keep telling me, I was promised poetry I do believe,”
“When I can think straight,” Damen promised against his ear before leaning further, craning, and Laurent obliged, leant back and let their mouths meet.
It was an awkward angle, even if Damen’s hands skimming possessively over his front and up his sides felt good. Even if the hardening length of him was exactly where Laurent wanted him. He relented, huffing impatiently as he turned in Damen’s arms and went up onto his tip toes to kiss him.
“I’d say you’ve been good,” Laurent said into his kiss, arms draped over the wide expanse of his shoulders.
Damen groaned, hands spanning his waist and clenching hard “very good,” he agreed “not bending you over the table the second I saw you in this was an effort,” he said tugging at his t-shirt.
“Take me back to bed,” he said enjoying the way Damen huffed a low groan against his mouth before licking back in, tongue a rhythmic fuck against Laurent’s for several long beats before he pulled back.
“And what do you want?”
Had he ever been asked that before? Like this? He didn’t think he had, he’d remember the unsteady rush that accompanied it.
“I want it slow,” he said because that was how he liked it best and he was under no illusions that after so long without sex and after the way Damen had fucked him earlier, that he’d be sore tomorrow as it was “on my back, so you can do all the work,”
Damen hummed “on your back works for me,” he said already walking them backwards out of the kitchen, the look he fixed him with was absolutely filthy.
“I want to see your face when you come,” Damen breathed against his mouth
Laurent groaned, latching their mouths back together as they stumbled blindly the rest of the way to the bedroom. He slammed the door behind him on the off chance Ancel did come home and got an eyeful of Damianos fucking Laurent’s brains out. It would be public knowledge in a matter of minutes if he did, he was sure.
Damen did exactly as he’d asked, slow, breathy, intimate almost. When Damen sank back into him it was accompanied by a different kind of pain, a sweet tender ache that let Laurent knew he was already well fucked. His body took him easily, already relaxed and wet and loose enough to sink back in like he’d never left.
Laurent let himself moan, dug his nails into Damen’s back and rode it out, torn between meeting his intensely invested gaze and squeezing his eyes shut against the pressure and slow burning pleasure as Damen fucked him exactly as he’d asked; slow, deep, a grind of their bodies, pulling out and fucking in so that just the deliciously curved head rubbed incessantly against his prostate for long blissfully agonising moments.
When he came this time he was shaking, had been leaking wet and needy and telling against his stomach, his hair was curling where it was damp and his entire body locked down for a long fractured moment before sensation drowned him and he fucked back wantonly. He said Damen’s name like a prayer as he raked nails down his back and whimpered messy and broken against his mouth.
When he was boneless and panting and trembling Damen made to pull out but Laurent stopped him with a heel against his arse “finish,” he commanded, tongue feeling heavy as his eyes blinked slow and sluggish up at him.
Damen made it quick and the sparks were too much and almost painful but so good he just rode it out, punching little breaths against Damen’s mouth as it hovered over his.
He got up again once he’d come, fetching Laurent water and wiping him down before fitting himself snugly behind Laurent. He was fairly certain he was asleep before Damen even stopped fidgeting.
~*~
Laurent awoke to intense heat pressed against his back and for a second he stiffened, blinking groggily and confusedly until he became aware of his body. It came back online in slow increments and then he was aware. His arse was sore. He was aching everywhere and he just fucking knew that when he tried to stand his legs would be unsteady. He felt sticky between his thighs and he could feel bruises forming.
And behind him: Damianos, breathing softly against his neck with an arm slung over his waist.
Fucked. He was definitely 100% fucked. He always got too fucking attached.
It was bright beyond the window and one squint at the clock told him it was nearly midday. Which meant Ancel. Which meant Damen needed to go. Like, now.
He rolled over fully intending to wake him but he paused, arrested by the sight of him. In the daylight he was impossibly more attractive which just wasn’t fair. He was relaxed in sleep, looking younger than his years and Laurent fought the urge to trace his fingers down his face. It wouldn’t do.
Damen’s words from last night came back to him in a rush I’d hate for you to have unrealistic expectations.
Damen hadn’t given him any unrealistic expectations about sex. But Laurent was certainly re-evaluating his previous expectations of sex, that was for certain. He’d never been taken apart so thoroughly. He’d never felt so unbearably seen.
It was stupid. Foolish. Entirely fucking idiotic. Pathetic really.
Damen was the king of flings and one-night stands and Laurent had text him asking for sex. Anything he’d said, any words he’d given him, Laurent had to remember they were just words and words alone could not be trusted. He knew that better than most.
For a second though, Laurent let himself sink into his teenage skin, think about the stupid teenage fantasies he’d had before he knew better. When he could fantasise and want with all the reckless enthusiasm of someone young and still pure.
He’d thought about it hadn’t he? About Damen. Damen had been his fantasy and Laurent may have forgotten that until he was watching Damen sleeping on the pillow beside him. Damen hadn’t just been his gay-awakening, he had been Laurent’s first foray into the world of sexual attraction but Laurent was only right now remembering what that meant.
He had forgotten, in the years gone by, that there was a time when he could have been considered somewhat normal. When his thoughts and feelings about sex and romance had been the same as the majority of other adolescents.
It wasn’t just that he’d thought about Damen when he started to explore his own body or that his stomach erupted at the sight of him. It was all the embarrassing stuff that went with it, the stuff Laurent had forgotten how to hope for or dream about. Or want really.
The endless daydreams about stupid shit like holding hands, the three thousand note books he’d probably wasted endless amounts of time writing shudder-inducing poetry in. Or lamenting and asking the gods why he hadn’t noticed him or just drawing random hearts and his initials like he was being subtle. Like if Auguste found it he wouldn’t immediately know who he meant by D.A.
Laurent changed his mind, got out of the bed and barely held back a hiss as he rose to his feet. His legs still felt wobbly and it was with no small amount of derision that he realised his gait was telling. Plus his arse really was pretty sore.
He left Damen sleeping and crept into the bathroom with a handful of clean clothes but even when he had the water running and his head tipped back beneath the spray he couldn’t not remember what those days had been like. How innocent it had all been.
Naïve and restless, lighting up whenever someone even mentioned his name, trying to find ways to be near him that would inevitably end in him running away in embarrassment anyway. Wanting Damen to notice him and the butterflies and rush when Damen so much as smiled at him. And through it all Auguste: always leading Damen away. Laurent had been jealous hadn’t he? He’d forgotten that too.
He'd hated their familiarity, the easiness of it all and the way Auguste always had to have Damen with him. If they weren’t away at boarding school then Damen was in Arles or Auguste was in Ios. He’d been jealous of the shared language of glances and eyebrows and twitches of mouths that Laurent could never decipher fully. He’d been jealous of their affection and their preference for each other even when they were amidst their other friends. It had been as palpable then as their enmity was now.
Laurent had had it bad.
They were bitter-sweet memories. Sweet for how innocent it was, bitter for all that he had to mourn of that innocence. Snatched too soon and thus far never repeated. He hadn’t felt like it since had he? Not in that excited euphoric sense.
With Bastian, if Laurent was being honest, he was just in the right place at the right time. He’d been there when Laurent needed something, when he’d been fragile and holding his broken pieces thinking someone else could put him back together. Laurent had let himself follow Bastian’s lead, let himself get swept up and swept away because it had been easier than being alone with his fractured thoughts. Xander had been different too, a long chase, a tentative back and forth.
Maybe that’s why he’d let Damen come over so easily when this went against everything he thought he knew about his preferred sexual experiences. Because Damen reminded him of what it felt like to be normal. Damen was all he had of before so he didn’t have to question his reaction to Damen. He’d had that reaction to Damen before everything went wrong. He could trust his reaction to Damen because it had always been his reaction to Damen.
Even if Damen was nothing like he might have expected. He was so far removed from his visions that it was laughable. But it was so, so much worse because Damen was so much more than Laurent had known how to imagine. He could never have imagined the way it felt to have his eyes on him, or the way his breath would catch when Damen smirked. He could never have imagined the precise way it had felt to have Damen feed a laugh back into his mouth or the way his hands burned and soothed down his sides.
It would have been easier if his imaginary teenage version of Damen was the better version. Maybe then Laurent wouldn’t feel so adrift and caught out.
But that didn’t change anything. It wasn't real and it was stupid to even dwell on it. He said as he dwelled on it for the next twenty minutes whilst he carefully cleaned himself and catalogued the marks left behind.
There was nothing that wasn’t easily hidden anyway; bruises on his thighs and finger marks on his hips. Not because Damen had been too rough but Laurent was so fair he bruised like a peach. He would be lying if he didn’t grab the mirror and give his arse an inspection just to see Damen’s handiwork there too.
Satisfied and with an unfortunate limp that he would need to work out of his system before Ancel got home, he went back to the bedroom. Damen was still asleep, on his back now with one arm thrown over Laurent’s side of the bed. He had the duvet bunched down around his hips and he was so gloriously naked Laurent contemplated tugging the blanket down a little further but decided against it. Last night was last night. This morning was something else. And Damen really couldn’t be here when Ancel got home.
He climbed back onto the bed, tentatively, kneeling and stretching across to give his shoulder a shake. Damen groaned, turned his head and his face scrunched up adorably before he peeled his eyes open and looked right at him.
Damen smiled upon waking, blinking sleepily at him as the corners of his mouth curled up. He hummed, breathing his name as he sat up on his elbows, smiling warmly. Too sunny. Too genuine. When Laurent could only blink back at him, cheeks heating up for absolutely no fucking reason, Damen hummed again, leant across and into him and Laurent was powerless to stop himself from kissing back. Damen kissed him like he couldn’t help it, slow and gentle and agonisingly sweet and no. Laurent had to stop this. This was how Damen was with everyone. And he had a lot of people to include in his endless list of lovers. He was just good at the charade, well-practiced. Laurent wasn’t so naïve that he couldn’t see through it. This time.
He pulled back before Damen was really done and flashed him a smile he knew was probably a little tight “Ancel will be back soon and you can’t be here when he gets in,”
Damen blinked, nodding “oh,” he said smothering the frown before it truly took hold “yeah, right,” he said swinging his legs over the side of the bed and stretching and Laurent absolutely did not look at the way the muscles in his back rippled as he did so. Much.
“Right,” he said when Damen rose and Laurent’s eyes dropped instantly to his arse. He had not spent enough time appreciating it last night. Dimples. Obviously. It was as hard as the rest of him, flexed like a dream when he walked.
When Damen started to get dressed Laurent cleared his throat and dismissed himself to the kitchen, making coffee, having a much needed cigarette, and absolutely not pacing as he listened to Damen lock himself in the bathroom.
He didn’t shower which Laurent was grateful for, one eye on the clock and aware Ancel could barge in any fucking second. Then everyone would know and Laurent would be dealing with his already on-the-edge brother and Auguste finding out he’d fucked Bastian again was one thing, this though? Fuck. What had he been thinking?
Damen came in a few moments later, dressed and looking every inch as glorious as he had done last night. Both when he’d been dressed and naked. It really wasn’t fair.
For lack of anything to say he nudged the pointed travel mug of coffee in Damen’s direction.
“Milk and sugar are over there,” he said flicking his finger to the counter behind Damen.
Damen eyed the travel cup with a wry smile “do all your lovers leave with a complimentary mug?”
He didn’t miss the all. And of course he would think that. As far as Damen was concerned Laurent was the type of person who messaged random men apropos of nothing asking them for sex. His impression was probably not favourable. Or in any way accurate. What would he say? If he knew he was the first person Laurent had ever done something like this with? That he wasn’t drawing from a wealth of experience the way he seemed to think?
He didn’t want to find out.
“Only when they’ve pleased me,” he said instead and regretted it instantly when Damen turned a smile on him and it was so, so, much worse in the daylight. Blinding really. Fucking arsehole.
“I’ll take it as a compliment then,”
Laurent huffed “don’t, the ones who were really good get breakfast,” he sniffed as he moved around him into the hall, intending Damen to follow.
He didn’t immediately follow, and Laurent walked out to the sound of Damen laughing and that was not the reaction Laurent had intended or anticipated. But then in all the years he’d known Damianos when had he ever once done what was expected of him?
Laurent was left hovering at his own front door, leaning back against the wall and all but tapping his foot before Damen finally reappeared holding Laurent’s second favourite travel mug.
He came to a halt in front of Laurent, turned to face him, eyes like spotlights as they scanned his face and Laurent could only swallow and clutch his mug to his chest.
“If my brother finds out he’ll castrate you,” Laurent said
Damen nodded, at least affecting a serious expression “and wouldn’t that be a shame,”
“Your harem would be devastated I’m sure,”
“Harem? How exotic,”
“How barbaric,” he said and then flushed again at the word when he remembered how he even came to be here.
Damen snorted and his hand went up to the back of his neck in a gesture that, if Laurent didn’t know better, he would almost call shy.
“So I guess I’ll be taking my complimentary gift and leaving,”
“It’s not a gift, I want it back,”
“Pretty rude of you really,”
“Is it?” Laurent asked “what? Do your endless one-night stands get to keep whatever they leave with?”
“Pretty much, take a mint from the bowl, enjoy a free compliment card, don’t forget your novelty t-shirt from beside the door,”
“Yes, and a text three days later to tell them to get an STI check,” he said and he realised he’d gone a little too far by the way Damen blinked at him, pursing his lips slightly. But that was good. That was better.
Laurent lifted his chin and because of the ball of tension in his stomach and the skittish thrum of discomfort in his veins he knew when he opened his mouth that he was about to make everything so much worse. But he did it anyway because he wasn’t very good at holding his tongue. Or not making things worse.
“Don’t bother sending me one I’ve already made an appointment,” he said, voice harsher than intended “can’t be too careful after all, I mean your reputation being what it is I’m surprised you don’t have a dedicated wing in the local family planning clinic,”
And it was pretty much as bad as he had thought it would be. But he held Damen’s gaze anyway and only really realised how much Damen conveyed on his face by the glaring absence of it now. The slam of internal shutters.
“Right well, on that note,” Damen frowned, gesturing to the door “places to go, scores of lovers to infect,” he said as he pulled the door open.
Laurent let him leave, flinching when the door slammed closed and swearing into the echoing silence. Admittedly, he might have handled that a bit better.
But it was for the best. Damen was too soft and too endearing and Laurent was far too attracted to him. It was better to strike than wait to be struck. It was just sex, a one-night stand, an ode to his teenage fantasy. Nothing else.
So why didn’t he feel good about it?