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May. 23rd, 2017 05:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cast_iron_bitchLaurent preferred to know.
It was more than a matter of pride or of self-worth. In Vere he had faced death daily, spared from it only by his own calculations and plans. In such a court knowledge was both sword and shield, at times a cutting arrow, at others, a wall. He was small for his age, and slender, but Laurent had identified the traits that would cancel these physical shortcomings and nurtured them.
He could not fight with his hands; he learned to use a sword. He could not speak for his kingdom; he learned to negotiate with those who could, orchestrating the changes he needed from the outskirts. He could not defeat his Uncle; he aligned himself with the only man who dared try.
Whatever uncertainties Laurent faced never remained so for very long. His intolerance for ignorance within himself simply wouldn't allow it.
And so, when the dirty floors and cracked walls of their gym began to take form with new padding, new ceilings, and finally, a host of large and confusing equipment, Laurent took special affront to the latter. Some held a purpose he could divine simply by looking at them. The benches and the long bars with weights on either end were surely meant to strengthen one's chest and arms. The ill-named dumbbells were also for arms, and the seat in which one sat and pushed away weights with one's feet was for legs, but this was were Laurent's understanding stopped.
He walked towards a large machine comprised almost entirely of bars and cables. He tugged half heartedly on one of the handles and pulled it down with ease. It must need to be weighted; he resolved to watch Damen with the machine and determine how it was done. He drifted to another machine next, this one looking almost like a very short set of stairs. Why this would be required when there were stairs in every building in Darrow, Laurent didn't know.
With a sigh, he ventured to the rows of dumbbells next. He had worked out kilograms some time ago, preferring metric to the more foolish methods of measuring weight, but all these seemed to be labeled in pounds. Laurent paused before one marked '100.' His hand hovered over the top of it, then closed. Laurent pulled.
He pulled again, harder this time. And again, until a fine sheen popped forth on his forehead.
'You moved,' Laurent muttered. 'I saw it.'
It was more than a matter of pride or of self-worth. In Vere he had faced death daily, spared from it only by his own calculations and plans. In such a court knowledge was both sword and shield, at times a cutting arrow, at others, a wall. He was small for his age, and slender, but Laurent had identified the traits that would cancel these physical shortcomings and nurtured them.
He could not fight with his hands; he learned to use a sword. He could not speak for his kingdom; he learned to negotiate with those who could, orchestrating the changes he needed from the outskirts. He could not defeat his Uncle; he aligned himself with the only man who dared try.
Whatever uncertainties Laurent faced never remained so for very long. His intolerance for ignorance within himself simply wouldn't allow it.
And so, when the dirty floors and cracked walls of their gym began to take form with new padding, new ceilings, and finally, a host of large and confusing equipment, Laurent took special affront to the latter. Some held a purpose he could divine simply by looking at them. The benches and the long bars with weights on either end were surely meant to strengthen one's chest and arms. The ill-named dumbbells were also for arms, and the seat in which one sat and pushed away weights with one's feet was for legs, but this was were Laurent's understanding stopped.
He walked towards a large machine comprised almost entirely of bars and cables. He tugged half heartedly on one of the handles and pulled it down with ease. It must need to be weighted; he resolved to watch Damen with the machine and determine how it was done. He drifted to another machine next, this one looking almost like a very short set of stairs. Why this would be required when there were stairs in every building in Darrow, Laurent didn't know.
With a sigh, he ventured to the rows of dumbbells next. He had worked out kilograms some time ago, preferring metric to the more foolish methods of measuring weight, but all these seemed to be labeled in pounds. Laurent paused before one marked '100.' His hand hovered over the top of it, then closed. Laurent pulled.
He pulled again, harder this time. And again, until a fine sheen popped forth on his forehead.
'You moved,' Laurent muttered. 'I saw it.'
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Date: 2017-06-12 01:21 am (UTC)'Remove your pants and sit.'
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Date: 2017-06-12 02:14 am (UTC)For now, however, he let himself be urged upward, led only with a hand curled around his chin. Though the tone was different, the ease of Laurent's order nevertheless reminded Damen of the months he'd spent in bonds. It shouldn't have sent such a surge of heat down his spine, but he couldn't deny the feeling as he instantly dropped his hands to the button of string of his shorts, tugging them loose with a single tug and dropping them to the floor.
In one motion, he was bare and, still following Laurent's instruction, he sat upon the seat of the machine, curled a hand around Laurent's hip to draw him close once more. 'Today, however, I'd rather touch you.'
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Date: 2017-06-18 05:43 am (UTC)For his part, Laurent stood naked before him, lips pursing for a brief moment while he perused the gym's space with his eyes. After a moment's searching - there. Laurent walked a few paces and lifted a small bottle of joint oil meant to smooth the shifting of the creaking machines. He uncorked it and gave it a cursory sniff - the scent was hardly pleasant, but it would do.
Returning to Damen, Laurent climbed neatly back into his lap, sitting astride his thighs with some measure of heat in his eyes. He pressed the bottle into Damen's hands. 'Attend me.'
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Date: 2017-06-19 03:02 am (UTC)It flared hotter as Laurent settled himself astride Damen's lap, bare skin to bare skin, offering the bottle.
Damen didn't hesitate, taking it from him and carefully spilling a generous amount into the cup of his palm. Some dripped free, landing tiny drops on Laurent's thigh before Damen had his hand curled around his length, spreading the slick liquid from base to tip, smearing as he felt the heat of Laurent, the weight of him, in his palm.
'Harder?' he asked, eager to give Laurent just exactly what he desired.
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Date: 2017-06-21 02:31 am (UTC)'No,' he said, pleased to find his voice still steady, 'Not if you wish this to last.' Laurent looked down, for a moment almost undone by the obscene slide of himself through Damen's fist, but then his eyes found Damen's other hand. 'Prepare me,' he said, his voice just softened enough by pleasure that it was an entreaty and not an order. 'I want you to watch yourself enter me.'
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Date: 2017-06-23 02:14 am (UTC)The words he spoke were more request than order and Damen smirked fondly, tempted to delay for a moment, to indulge himself in another few slow strokes in effort to make Laurent beg. But begging could wait for another time; right now, he felt Laurent had a plan and Damen very much wanted to see it to fruition.
So he eased his grip as he slid his other hand up Laurent's flank, palming the curve of Laurent''s arse and spreading him where he straddled Damen's lap. After grazing his fingers up the length of Laurent's shaft, he reached around to tap two slick fingers against the dip of Laurent's spine just below his tailbone and then skimmed lower, finding the pucker of muscle he now knew so well and gently easing just the tip of one finger inside. He kept his head back all the while, his focus on Laurent's face, on the curve of his jaw so close and the flush of red that was sure to betray his skin soon enough.