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Damen spits as the bag is ripped off of his head. His head throbs, he can’t remember how he arrived here. His mouth tastes sweetly rotten. He’s overwhelmed by the light. There are shadowy figures in the room with him, but he can’t tell much more than that. He blinks hard and more starts to come into focus.
A large man in a distinctly Veretian shirt is leaning against the wall opposite him. Damen moves to lunge at him, but comes up against restraints. The shackles scrape against his golden wrist cuff and he thinks of Laurent. His stomach sours.
“You’ve taken a sitting monarch from his bed!” Damen bellows
The man does not react.
“You’ll pay for this,” Damen says, and he does mean it.
He remembers nothing after turning in for the night. It had been a normal day, council meetings, palace business, early dinner and early to bed. It won’t be long until someone notices, until Nikandros and his army come bursting through the door, slaughtering all who stand in their way. Really, Damen just has to endure.
He’s naked, because that’s how he sleeps. He feels no shame in it, only moderate discomfort at the way the armrest of the too-small chair digs into his thighs.
“You will,” Damen says, and he thrashes again, “They will slaughter you where you stand, none will survive. You will be killed, whether for my freedom or to avenge me.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Laurent’s voice cuts through the silence.
The man steps back. Damen hears him retreat up a flight of stairs as Laurent steps towards him.
Damen tenses.
“Laurent,” Damen says.
He catches the slight smirk on the corner of Laurent’s mouth and he settles into the chair a bit more.
“So difficult to get an audience with the king of Akielos these days,” Laurent says.
He picks at his nail bed, not looking at Damen.
“What did you do to me?” Damen asks, he can feel his face betray his confusion.
“I’m sure that I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Laurent says.
“You must have-,” Damen stammers, “Must have drugged me, taken me somewhere.”
Laurent shrugs, “Maybe, maybe not. You really don’t recognize your own basement?”
Damen’s jerks at the restraints. Laurent steps into the light, he looks Damen up and down. Damen watches as he swallows, his adam’s apple jerks in his throat even as he projects coolness, gestures at the clean stone walls around them, at the familiar restraints around his wrists.
“They told me the king was naive, but I didn’t think you were stupid.” He leans forward, saying the last word into Damen’s ear, breath hot on his neck.
“They’ll still come for me,” Damen says.
Something brightens in Laurent’s eyes, a glimmer, a spark, it’s something Damen recognizes in him.
“Not before you come for me,” Laurent says.
Damen swallows hard.
“Laurent-”
“Yes?” Laurent asks, projecting something akin to innocence.
Damen just shakes his head.
“Be a good boy for me, and get yourself hard. I’d like to see that”
Damen shrinks back into his chair, the words are enough to stir him. His focus narrows, it’s just him and Laurent, he feels smaller, more vulnerable than he’s used to feeling.
He tugs at the restraints, tries to buck his hips up, tries to find some way to rub himself.
Laurent shakes his head, “Use your imagination, Damianos, I know you can do that.”
Damen growls in the back of his throat.
“Or is this enough to do it for you?” Laurent asks, “Being chained up. You? Damianos V? The crown prince? The young leader of armies? The boy who captures forts for fun?”
Damen is getting hard, and it aches. He watches Laurent watch his cock stiffen between his legs as he sets the scene. Damen feels the heady rush of battle, of tasting victory. The vigour of youth has his hips bucking.
“Eager,” Laurent says, “I would expect nothing less from someone with your… stamina. Or temperament.”
“What do you want, Laurent?” Damen asks.
He needs something. The metal presses into his wrists, he groans. It’s too much, what the sight of Laurent can do to him.
Nothing comes, nothing physical at least. Laurent slowly unlaces the top of his pants. His fingers work over the complicated crossing knots. He lets them hang over his hips as he undoes the buttons on his shirtsleeves, undoing the laces at his neck. He shrugs off the overshirt, and then the undershirt. Damen resists his desire to reach out and touch. He wants to run hands over Laurent’s smooth stomach, over the unmarred expanse of skin.
“Stand,” Laurent says.
“I can’t,” Damen says.
Laurent shakes his head, “You’ll do what I say, Crown Prince.”
Damen doesn’t correct Laurent, doesn’t force him to call him as he is, he feels 19, he feels fresh and eager and new. He tries to stand, but the restraints pull taught, leaving him in a squat. Laurent kicks the chair out from underneath of him as he attempts to rise. It clatters to the floor and then Laurent pushes Damen down with it.
It doesn’t take much force because Damen goes willingly, falling to his hands and knees.
“That’s right,” Laurent says.
He stands behind Damen, fisting a hand in his hair, “You might be my king, but you’re mine.”
Damen arches his back without even thinking, presenting himself to Laurent. He doesn’t hear anything. Laurent doesn’t give him any other instruction, he just loosens his grip on Damen’s curls and traces a soft hand over his back. He jerks it away, quickly.
He feels a click and the restraints go slack. The cuffs fall open and to the floor. He scrambles to turn around, to look at Laurent.
Laurent is looking away, his jaw clenched.
“Don’t say anything,” Laurent says.
So Damen doesn’t. He nudges Laurent’s shoe with his bare foot. Laurent takes a clumsy step towards Damen.
“Have your way with me,” Damen says, “Exalted.”
If Laurent isn’t already hard, Damen thinks that this must be his last straw. Laurent gets to his knees, positioning himself between Damen’s legs.
“It’s highness, actually,” Laurent says.
Laurent reaches between Damen’s legs and Damen braces himself. He needs contact, needs to feel Laurent’s hands on his cock. Laurent moves past it and Damen groans. His long, fingers are coated with something wet and slippery, one slides into his hole without any resistance.
Damen curses in Akielon, and then in Veretian as his eyes flutter shut. Laurent moves quickly, with precise movements. If Damen weren’t so familiar with them, he’d think them the movements of someone trying to get this over with as soon as possible. Damen is familiar with them though, and he can feel Laurent rocking his body against Damen’s. He feels Laurent press another finger into him, shoving himself into Damen’s body, as much as possible as soon as possible.
Laurent curls his fingers and Damen makes an obscenely eager noise. Laurent repeats the movement, a few centimetres to the left and Damen swears he goes blind for the next second. He opens his eyes and sees Laurent, one arm propping himself up above Damen while his opposite hand disappears between Damen’s legs. Damen’s cock is red and leaking, but he doesn’t dare reach for it.
More curses fall from his lips, and if they are truly just in some wine cellar or forgotten dungeon at Ios, he fears he might be waking half of the palace.
“Highness,” Damen mutters.
Laurent pauses. He pulls his fingers back. Damen scrambles.
“Laurent, I mean,” Damen corrects.
Laurent rests back on his knees.
“Say it again,” Laurent says.
He pushes his pants down to his thighs and takes his own cock in his hand. He strokes it once, staring Damen down with his piercing eyes.
“Your highness,” Damen says carefully.
Laurent drags his gaze down Damen’s body.
“Your highness,” Damen says, and this time he puts every drop of desire into the last word.
Laurent presses his left leg upwards. Damen feels the stretch in the back of his thigh. He angles his hips upwards to make it easier for Laurent to slowly press himself into his aching body. It’s torture. It’s perfect. He feels it all, his eyes fall shut, his head falls backwards, his hair brushes the stone floor.
“Please,” Damen says.
“Please what?” Laurent asks.
Damen is looking into his eyes. He watches them falter, he closes his mouth, wipes his face of the wanton expression and looks past Damen.
Damen reaches for Laurent, presses all five of his left fingertips into Laurent’s right arm.
“Please, your highness. Please fuck me.”
Laurent’s gaze snaps back to Damen’s face at the same time as he pulls his hips backward. He snaps them forward. His hands rest on the smallest part of Damen’s waist, digging into his skin, pulling Damen’s body towards him in time with his thrusts.
His body aches. There’s tension pooling low in his abdomen, so strong that he thinks it might kill him and Laurent if it’s not released soon.
Laurent’s face is screwed up in a perfect picture of focus. He moves mechanically, in perfect time.
The orgasm rips through him. His mouth falls open, as if he’s surprised that it’s come so soon. He spills all over his own stomach as Laurent continues to fuck into him. He doesn’t dare tell Laurent to stop, doesn’t even think to complain about being to sensitive.
He lights back and he takes it, until Laurent has what he wants.