cast_iron_bitch | (no subject)

Laurent's feet cut a direct line from the hospital to his Terrace rooms. There were any number of places he might have gone to clear his head - or swing his arms, as he was in a rare mood to cut something down to its marrow - yet Laurent did not trust his mood to take him anywhere but home.

Of all the people, of all the traitorous, miserable wretches. This place seemed to collect every possible person from everywhere, human or not, alive or dead, yet it could not see fit to ever bring his brother.

Laurent stopped. It was cold enough that the very air he pulled into his lungs stung all the way down, yet for a moment he couldn't move. This was, perhaps, the first time he allowed himself to admit to hope. Auguste might yet come, even if Darrow insisted on bringing every horrible person from home first.

Shoulders rounding against the wind, Laurent continued on, chilled enough now to hurry indoors, but he found when he was at last standing in his apartment and pulling off his frozen scarf, the core of him was still molten, roiling with a fury he could not seem to expunge with clear and measured thought.

Laurent cast his eyes about the living until his gaze came to rest on a vase. It had been in these rooms longer than he had, there when he moved in. It was squatty and blue, nothing he would have ever chosen apart from the color, but the fat bottom rested neatly in the curve of Laurent's palm.

He stared at it, then threw it at the far wall with all his strength.

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Laurent moved like water, sliding down Damen's body with a fluid, mesmerizing grace. Damen watched, ignoring the pang of disappointment in his gut when he could no longer reach Laurent with his greedy hands.

'I would prefer you get on with it,' he admitted with a faint grin, bumping one leg gently against Laurent's side as his gaze dropped to the plump of Laurent's wet bottom lip. Patience was never one of Damen's strengths and never was that more true than when he had Laurent naked before him.

He had an idea of what Laurent might have in mind and his stomach tightened deliciously at the mere idea. He remained quiet, however, and still. Willing to follow wherever Laurent might lead.

Laurent returned that smile, enjoying the easy anticipation of pleasure on Damen's face. 'Very well,' he answered, lowering his head. He journeyed directly to where Damen was hottest, that thick shaft of flesh that was even smoother than the cheek that Laurent dragged against it. Even filled to full hardness, the flesh Damen's cock was addictingly soft, and Laurent lingered for a moment, simply breathing in the heat that threatened to burn through his cheek.

It was difficult to recall why pushing himself to this particular act had once been onerous. The mechanics of the act were of course the same as in the memories that troubled him, but Damen was nothing like the Regent, not in mind or temperament, certainly not in body or soul. Now it was the easiest thing in the world to open his mouth and let the fat head of Damen's cock rest against his tongue. Laurent held it there, enjoying the taste of him before he began to take him deeper, his tongue flat against Damen's length so that every new inch descended was shepherded by warm, wet heat.

Though it was as he'd suspected, Damen was still stunned by the reality of it, of Laurent knelt between his spread legs, submissive and wholly in control both at once. His eyes were dark. Focused. But there was no anger in his expression, no rigid determination as he parted his lips around the tip of Damen's cock. Damen sucked in a breath at the sensation, clamped down on the desire to lift his hips and plunge into the full warmth of Laurent's mouth. His stomach tightened with the effort as Laurent sank lower little by little until, finally, Damen could only drop his head backward against the floor and shudder in a breath, overwhelmed.

'Fuck,' he grunted on an exhale before lifting his head again. He propped himself back up onto an elbow, reaching down this his other hand to lightly card his fingers through Laurent's golden hair. 'Fuck, Laurent.'