cast_iron_bitch | (no subject)

(no subject)

He was too aware of his pulse.

It was foolish, as a good many things Laurent had decided to let transpire tonight were foolish. Still, he assembled several bottles of wine, a plate of cheeses, a small assortment of meats, loaves of bread, and grapes. It was too much, but so too was Damen's appetite. He had placed a large carafe of water in the cold box to chill. He had dressed himself in a long sleeved shirt, a tie, removed the tie, and put it on again.

He should not have demanded this.

Laurent could count on one hand the number of times he had given up control in the last seven years. That any had had a happy ending was an affront to plausibility, but it hadn't escaped Laurent that each favorable time had been with one man. Yet each time had been the result of circumstance, the both of them caught in an escalating chain of deadly events and each doing their best to survive it. Never by Laurent's own hand, save for that night in the fort, that evening in the inn.

A heavy knock came at the door, rendered by an overlarge Akielon hand, and Laurent waited in silence while his heart climbed down from its perch in his throat. He went to the door and opened it. Damen was on the other side.

'I hope you don't expect a spectacle.'

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'No.' As he had expected, Damen was forced to lick the softened chocolate from his fingertips. Armed with this foreknowledge, Laurent managed not to flush as certain memories arose. He was aware, however, that the wine had begun to make such suppressions difficult.

'I hadn't planned to purchase it, but the merchant was insistent, and he gave me a very good deal.' He recalled the popped corn they'd eaten the day before, the way Damen's lips had wrapped around his fingers then as well, and ah. Here was the heat he'd been keeping from his cheeks. 'Another food that would have delighted Veretian pets.'

There was a flush to Laurent's cheeks, the cause of which Damen could only guess to be the wine. It was a side of Laurent he was glad to see, a side that felt private and... quite alluring.

He smiled at the comment before sitting up to reach for another block of chocolate. He didn't eat it however, but eyed it as he held it between thumb and finger and then looked to Laurent. The idea he had still felt dangerous, but the wine in his bloodstream made it easy to ignore his saner mind.

'Do you remember Nesson?' he asked, knowing full well Laurent hadn't forgotten. 'Those sweetmeats?'

Laurent drank the last of his wine as Damen considered the chocolate. He said, 'Anyone watching would have thought you were feeding a panther. I did enjoy that,' he admitted. 'How your breathing changed most of all.'

Laurent refilled his glass, still turned sideways on the chaise. He raised a brow for the chocolate. 'Well? You will have to come closer.'

It was hardly surprising that Laurent would have delighted in getting under Damen's skin, in shaking him in any way whatsoever. There was little reason for Damen to think Laurent had any interest in him then apart from his usefulness.

But he found himself hoping all the same for whatever difference it made.

He arched an eyebrow as Laurent refilled his glass before resuming his position on the chaise. Damen only looked for a long moment and knew the warmth in his blood was only partially due to the wine. He took another sip of his own wine, nearly finishing the second glass before he leaned over to rest it on the table and then shifted closer on the chaise, close enough that his knee bumped Laurent's lightly.

'We sat closer in that tavern,' Damen said as he reached to offer the chocolate, slightly softened now, to Laurent's waiting mouth.

From his vantage Laurent could see every bunch and flex of Damen's absurd thighs as he shifted closer. His heartbeat accelerated. It had not been easy in Nesson, curled so close together. The prickling heat Laurent had felt at the time had given him no quarter, and neither had Damen, remarking that Laurent spoke more when he was uncomfortable.

He was not uncomfortable now, but Laurent was a touch overwhelmed. He opened his mouth, nearly closing it again when he realized what must come next. 'That was a bench,' he said, using the space after those words to breathe. It was only chocolate from Damen's fingers. It wasn't fucking.

'You're not flexible enough to straddle an entire chaise,' he added in the tones of one who would know, and closed his lips around the ends of Damen's fingers.

Laurent watched him like a cornered animal, though he made no effort to sink further into his corner of the chaise, nor move away. His eyes were dark, locked on Damen's and he breathed and spoke calmly.

There was something in his tone, however. Something that spoke of an intimacy Damen hadn't lived, but found himself wanting to.

Laurent's lips wrapped around the tips of his fingers, soft and wet, and Damen's breath caught as heat surged through him. He pulled his hand back reluctantly, but kept his eyes on Laurent as he brought those fingers to his own lips, again sucking clean his thumb and finger. He imagined he could taste Laurent as well in some facsimile of a kiss.

'Still enjoyable?' he asked, gaze dropping to the curve of those plush lips as Laurent chewed. 'Would you like another?'

Damen pulled his fingers free, and Laurent could only watch as he brought them to his own mouth to lick each one clean. Laurent's mouth was dry despite the chocolate. He felt it, the ache he had long been pushing away, pushing down, burying beneath a mountain of other concerns, but this close to Damen there was no denying it. He knew precisely how Damen's hand fit at his side, where the skin of his throat was most sensitive. His fingers itched with the urge to touch him.

Laurent shook his head. 'Sugar in excess makes my heart race,' he said. 'A nut perhaps. Cheese. You decide.'

'Are you sure it's the sugar that's making your heart race?' Damen replied with the smallest hint of a smile.

He'd only had two pieces himself and was already well aware that thrum of breath and blood was neither from the chocolate nor the wine. This version of Laurent, this possibility was a heady thing.

He leant toward the table once more, considering for only a moment before choosing a small chunk of cheese. He slide his arm further along the chaise when he turned back to Laurent, his fingers brushing past Laurent's shoulder as he again offered to those parted, wine-stained lips. 'I should worry,' he said before Laurent could lean in fully. 'You might get used to this.'

'I might,' Laurent agreed, though he did not think it would happen soon. The sensation of being overwhelmed had not abated. Damen was himself overwhelming, and in every sense - his size, his insights, his goodness against which Laurent had no defense. He opened his mouth for the cheese and found himself too aware of it, its salt and the way it crumbled, too aware of Damen himself, mere inches away.

It was too much, and Laurent curled away to make a selection of his own from the plates, far more comfortable teasing Damen than receiving the attention himself. He selected a portion of the softer cheese, dragging it through a bit of honey before he held it between them expectantly.

He said, 'Before you can accuse me of greed.'

Laurent took the cheese delicately and Damen let his gaze fall to those lips as he chewed, confident now that he was allowed to look. And to want.

All too soon, Laurent pulled away, this time to reach for the platter on the table himself. Damen felt a small sting of disappointment until he realized exactly what it was Laurent was doing and fresh anticipation coiled in his gut.

The honey slowly dripped down the edge of the cheese, threatening to touch pale fingers and Damen leaned in, the cheese pressed the to flat tip of his tongue as he drew it between his lips. It was a strange mix against the wine, but Damen was far less concerned with the taste of the cheese and honey than the brief hint he'd gotten of Laurent's skin. He stayed still as he chewed, his eyes on Laurent's before he licked his lips.

'Is this something we did?' he asked then, his voice quiet and careful. 'Were we always so tender?'

'We have not done this in earnest until this moment,' Laurent told him. 'But tenderness, yes. There was not much time, but we stole moments when we could.' Laurent's head tilted as he considered. 'The first time was not so tender.'

The pads of his fingers felt cool, as if brushed by Damen's tongue, and though Laurent wanted to reach for more he found he did not want to move away, not even for the chocolate or cheese or his own glass of wine. He wanted to touch Damen's hair, the soft fall of it where it curled against his neck. He wanted to push it back, to perhaps press his lips to the skin revealed beneath. His eyes tracked the long tendon his mouth might follow.

'You were expecting something more Veretian?' he asked. 'More whips, perhaps, or chains.'

No, given what Damen could remember of his time before this place, given what he felt even now, he could imagine only a desperate sort of collision. The want for it already simmered under his skin, flaring hotter as Laurent's gaze traveled down the length of his neck, nearly as tangible as Laurent's fingers might be. Or his mouth.

The question Laurent posed cut off that train of thought, though Damen felt weighted by the wine enough to only smirk. 'If that were the case, I'd say you've fucked me already,' he pointed out.

He shifted slightly, extending the arm he had rested against the back of the chaise to graze two fingertips across Laurent's fabric-covered shoulder. It was tentative, still half expecting Laurent's gaze to turn sharp or forbidding. 'I am curious, though. How it happened. Was it I who kissed you?'

'It was the night before you were to leave,' said Laurent, holding himself very still beneath that barest touch. It was just the right sort of touch, slow and featherlight, and Laurent wondered if Damen knew it.

'I put my hand in your pants and touched you until you spent. Afterward,' said Laurent, 'You asked me to kiss you.'

Unless they'd altered their arrangement, Damen knew that must mean Ravenel. He tried to picture it, what he could remember of the fortress's towering walls and Laurent within it. Tried to imagine Laurent shoving his hand down Damen's pants to feel him and that-- that he could imagine easily. He felt as though he'd already done so numerous times.

'Did I?' he breathed, still dragging his fingers down the fabric of Laurent's shirt. 'And you responded to a slave's bidding?'

He couldn't help but wonder how Laurent might react now if he were to ask the same. If the circumstances were pleasing enough for him or if Laurent would require a more thorough courting.

The pull of Damen's fingertips continued, and Laurent's lips parted to allow more air into suddenly burning lungs. 'I did,' he answered, even if they both knew he had not truly been Laurent's slave, never less so than in that moment.

'I could not tell you which of us was more surprised.'

Once again, Damen's gaze fell to Laurent's lips and lingered. Would it be so surprising now, he wondered, if he were to ask and Laurent were to say yes? Despite all Laurent had told him, all he had admitted, Damen felt it would still shake him to his core.

And he wanted it. Undeniably.

'These bonds have been nothing more than jewelry for months,' he said then, his fingers still light upon Laurent's shoulder, soaking up the warmth of him through one layer of fabric. His voice was quieter, the warmth of the wine heavy in his veins.. 'And yet I feel, in this moment, that I'd do anything you asked.'

Laurent, I am your slave. Damen's proximity and the wine had made a dull roar in Laurent's ears, yet the remembered words filtered through, Damen's face as he had spoke them, Damen's face when Laurent flung them back at him, days later. He drew a breath, reminding himself to take care.

'So trusting,' said Laurent, and at this particular moment, it did not sound like a judgment. It was an observation, perhaps even an envious one. 'Such simple, earnest want.' Laurent looked up, making a request he had dispensed with before.

'May I touch you?'

There was no edge to Laurent's tone, no condescension. And, even if he wanted, Damen could not deny the truth in it. He wanted, as fiercely as he'd ever wanted anything.

He thought maybe he had for some time and only now, only when it seemed possible, had let himself acknowledge that want.

And yet the request seemed jarring. Had Laurent ever asked anything of him? Certainly nothing in this manner, nothing that involved what Damen so readily wished to give. His fingers curled slightly, catching on thin fabric as his heart raced, and he managed a nod. 'Anywhere you'd like,' he said, resisting the urge now to smooth his hand higher up Laurent's shoulder, to feel the soft, bare skin of Laurent's neck with the pad of his thumb.

Laurent had anticipated a yes, yet his heart raced when he received it. He gave a small nod of his own as his eyes journeyed the length of Damen, curled as he was on the chaise. They swept over ankle and knee, broad hands and broader shoulders until they landed once more near Damen's throat.

Laurent lifted a hand, which hovered for a moment before it pressed forward, carding into Damen's loose curls. Warmth exploded against his palm, and Laurent drew in a breath. 'I have never done this,' he admitted, lest Damen think it all a pantomime of what transpired before. He moved Damen's hair from that place where it curled against his throat, dragging his fingers along the spot after. Damen's pulse thrummed against the pads of his fingers.

'After all that I can recall between us, it is strange for me to think what we have not done.'

The trail of Laurent's gaze felt like a touch in and of itself, at least until Laurent's fingers made contact. Then there was no comparison at all. Damen swallowed at the weight and warmth, light as it was through Damen's hair at first before his path led him to the soft skin of Damen's throat.

Months ago, this might have worried him, to let Laurent, the snake-like Prince of Vere, so close to skin so sensitive. A well-placed thumb or flick of a nail and Damen could bleed out. But there was no threat in Laurent's touch, only quiet wonder. His heart rabbited beneath his chest as Damen pulled in a breath, eyes locked on Laurent's.

'And what haven't we done?' he asked, grazing his fingers down the length of Laurent's upper arm and back up again as he struggled to get his breathing under control. 'Surely you touched much more of me than this.'

'Yes,' Laurent agreed, 'A good deal more. But as I said, our moments were few.' They did not seem to be now, and Laurent took his time, his eyes drifting to Damen's face. He could feel Damen continue to touch him, the journey of his hand longer now, but as he made no move to grab him, Laurent did not resist.

He raised his hand, dragging the backs of his knuckles against Damen's cheek before he cupped it, grazing the flat of his cheekbone with his thumb. 'I've not spent in your mouth,' he offered, thinking on what lovers must do. 'Nor been inside you. I've not bathed with you save for that very first time that ended so poorly.' He traced the dark line of Damen's brow, first one, and then the other. 'I've not studied your face with the leisure I prefer.'

Laurent's lifted his hand to graze the his knuckles along Damen's cheek before that same hand cupped the side of his, knuckles replaced by a slow swipe of his thumb. Damen's mouth fell open at the imagery Laurent's words wove even as he spoke of thing they hadn't done. None of it felt surprising. No one had ever been inside Damen; he could barely fathom the idea of it though suddenly he did wonder upon it, if Laurent even wanted that or if he far preferred to bend instead, to be taken.

'And now?' he asked only when Laurent had taken a breath. He reached forward with his other hand then, resting it atop Laurent's thigh, fabric warm under his touch as he skimmed his fingers higher. Laurent's touch left a fire in its wake, tender and maddening all at once. 'We've nothing but time here -- you can look as you'd like. And touch. Is there... would you like any of that?' He turned his head just enough to brush his lips across Laurent's smooth palm, pressing a bare kiss. 'Would you let me suck you to completion?'

Damen's mouth dropped open, and Laurent resisted the urge to trace his lips next, certain that the act would change his answer. 'I hope so,' he said, for even now he wasn't certain that he could let himself go far enough to spend in Damen's mouth. Taken by Damen's cock, completion had been inevitable, the thrust of his body too insistent for even Laurent's stubborn mind to resist. But Damen's mouth had been more delicate, the pleasure glorious, yet easier to evade.

He said, 'Not tonight.' Damen's hand was on his thigh, and Laurent placed his own on top of it to still its movement. Any further and he was not certain he could stay on the path he had set for himself. 'I did not ask you here to fuck.'

It seemed a strange response, though Damen wouldn't question it right now. He found he couldn't, not when when Laurent dropped a hand atop his own, stilling his movement, though gently.

'I never thought you had,' he said, though Laurent's nearness had his imagination whirling, that touch upon his neck still burning. 'We were only to drink, to... loosen up,' he said with a soft, warm smile. 'I think we've achieved that, at least.'

He raised his hand from Lauren't shoulder then, slowly, giving Laurent more than enough time to pull away or still his hand before the backs of his fingers brushed the curve of Laurent's jaw, skin just as soft and just as warm as Damen imagined it would be. 'I wish to court you,' he said, his voice quieter now. 'In the manner in which you deserve to be courted. As equals. Will you let me?'

'Yes,' said Laurent softly, 'We have achieved that.' Pulling his hand from Damen's cheek, he touched his shoulder instead, following the line of skin that led to elbow, from forearm to wrist, fingers just skimming Damen's own where they touched his cheek. He did feel looser, but wine was not the reason for these gentle caresses, he thought. It was Damen's own inexorable pull, as impossible to resist now as in Ravenel.

He curled his hand around the one atop his thigh, simply holding. He said, 'I would like that, if I may court you in turn.'