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The boy is a fine soldier, if a little rough around the edges. Laurent watches the measured way Damen fights him, compensating for the boy’s weaknesses and demonstrating how to shore up his defence. What had clearly started out as a simple bout in the ring, one Laurent thinks Damen sorely needed, has quickly turned into a lesson in basics, with the youth spending more time staring at Damen wide-eyed than properly paying attention to his instruction. The longer it goes on the more frustrated Damen becomes.
Laurent slouches in the doorway and enjoys the amusing spectacle until Damen finally snaps, flinging the boy and his sword to the dust with a skilled flick of his wrist.
“Perhaps you should find a more suitable partner, instead of tossing boys to the dirt?”
Damen looks over at Laurent, eyes briefly scanning his form. He shrugs, and reaches down to help the boy to his feet. The youth is red faced and tremoring, clearly overwhelmed in the presence of not one, but two of his kings.
“Go see to your duties,” Laurent says to him, striding forward and picking up the boy’s sword. He hands it to him with a pointed look. “Perhaps next time the Exalted deigns to impart his wisdom, you will listen?”
The youth nods, face reddening further, and hurries off with a stammered obeisance.
“You shouldn’t tease them,” Damen says.
“But where would be the fun in that?”
Damen snorts, and returns his practice sword to the rack along the far wall. By the time he has turned back around, Laurent already has the laces of his sleeves untied.
Damen arches a brow at him, crossing his broad arms over his broader chest.
“Did you think I was jesting?”
Damen chuckles. He comes back to Laurent and starts to work on the ties at his throat, his thick fingers well practised at unlacing the delicate threads. Once the jacket is undone, Laurent slips it off, folding it neatly before setting it aside. Laurent tugs his white undershirt off after it, setting that aside, too.
Damen is watching him curiously, clearly more than a little interested in the swathes of muscled skin now bared to him. It is unusual that Laurent will undress this much for a simple bout of swordplay.
Then, Laurent starts at his trousers.
“Do pay attention,” he says, when Damen’s eyes start to wander.
Damen only grins. “Are we to fight, or fuck?”
Laurent rolls his eyes, and does not deign to reply. He is naked now, shivering a little in the cool spring air. He holds himself with an admirable level of unselfconsciousness.
When Damen makes no move to divest himself of his own clothing, far too preoccupied with gawking at Laurent’s nakedness like he has not seen it a hundred times before, Laurent does it for him. The pin at his shoulder and the simple leather belt around his waist-- both fall to the dirt, where Damen kicks them away. He is half roused already.
Each time Laurent sees him like this, he cannot help but marvel at the size of his lover’s cock. Not even fully hard yet, it is indecently large, its girth deliciously wide. He remembers the weight of it in his hand, remembers the heat of its hard, silky flesh. He remembers vividly the taste of it, the musky scent of it, the feeling of it stretching him so wide he could feel it in his toes. Laurent is tempted to take it in hand, to feel that hot flesh harden for him, but he knows he would not be able to stop himself if he did. And that is not the point of this.
“Where do you keep the oil?”
Damen’s eyes darken, mistaking his meaning, which was not unintended. Still, Laurent rolls his eyes and deliberately clips Damen’s shoulder as he turns on his heel, ignoring the grin Damen has directed at his back.
Laurent knows where they keep it; the large jar of oil intended for the wrestlers. He finds it set on a table beside the cleaning leathers, and opens the lid to peer at the liquid inside. It is cool and clear, and has been changed recently in anticipation of their arrival to the Summer Palace. Laurent appreciates this, before he dips his hand inside to scoop out a handful of the viscous liquid. It smells faintly of olives, he muses, before he begins to smear it on his chest.
He senses Damen’s presence behind him before he feels it. Damen’s hands grasp his shoulders, turning him slowly. His eyes are dark, his gaze heavy.
“Will you help?” Laurent asks.
Damen reaches over his shoulder, crowding Laurent against the bench as he does, to dip his own hand in the jar. He begins to oil Laurent’s body slowly and deliberately, his eyes hooded, turning it almost into a massage with hard presses of his thumbs into tender muscle and broad sweeps of his calloused hand. Laurent is tempted to sink into it, to give himself over to the pleasure of Damen’s touch. It would be so easy. Instead, he reaches behind himself, lathers his hands, and begins to oil Damen’s chest as well.
They spend far too long performing what should be a perfunctory duty, callously basking in one another's touch. Damen's hands dip boldly low, fingertips dancing teasingly against Laurent's lower belly, delighting in the way it jumps under his touch. In retaliation, Laurent lets his fingertips run deliberately over the hard peaks of Damen's nipples, flicking them as he smears the oil over his broad chest.
When Laurent finally declares them ready, Damen is fully hard. Laurent knows because he can feel it against his thigh. Laurent smirks, smug with satisfaction at the reaction. The temptation to touch is nearly overwhelming, and it takes not an inconsiderable amount of effort for Laurent to move away.
He stands in the centre of the ring, lowering himself into a fighter’s stance. One leg is slightly forward, the other beneath him, both bent at the knee. He keeps his centre of gravity low, leaning forward at the waist, keeping his weight centred between his legs. His arms are before him, hands relaxed, ready to move and grasp in an instant. These are the things Nikandros has gone to great pains to teach him.
Laurent has been careful to conceal his practice with Nikandros from Damen, in anticipation of this moment. Damen does not know of what he is capable, has not seen him put Nikandros on his back recently almost as many times as Nikandros has done to him. He thinks Laurent an amateur, and this is what Laurent will use against him.
Damen takes too long to join him in the ring. He is not trying to hide his interest at all, his gaze sweeps Laurent’s form in deliberate, lingering stares. Laurent blushes, because he cannot help it, but he does not move from his readied stance.
“Will you pay attention?” Laurent grouses.
Damen chuckles, but finally takes his position opposite Laurent in the ring. “You know the rules?” Damen asks, careful to keep a patronising tone from his voice, though Laurent still rolls his eyes.
“When will you learn?”
Laurent dives forward, lowering his shoulder to drive it hard into Damen’s stomach. It’s a dirty move, but Laurent isn’t interested in fighting fair. He hooks his arm around Damen’s leg, behind the knee, slipping in the oil before he finds a grip, and yanks Damen’s leg off the ground. Damen wobbles precariously, trying to twist out of Laurent’s grip, but he cannot maintain his balance for long.
As he begins to fall, Damen manages to get his arms around Laurent’s shoulders, and pulls Laurent down with him. Laurent slams hard into the ground and finds himself being rolled over, pressed under heavy muscles and strong hands. He catches only a glimpse of Damen’s grin, before he kicks up off the ground and flips them back over.
They grapple, smearing each other with oil and what is quickly becoming mud. Every time Damen manages to gain the upper hand and get on top, Laurent twists and wriggles out from under him, as slippery as a snake with just as much bite.
In a stroke of luck, Laurent manages to sweep Damen’s legs out from under him, and scrambles on top before Damen can push him back. He straddles Damen’s lap, thighs gripping his hips tight, refusing to be bucked off. He pins Damen’s wrists to the ground, leaning all his weight on them to try and keep them still.
He grins. “I win.”
Damen laughs, his smile far too wide for someone who has just been bested by an amateur. “Do you?”
Laurent yelps as he suddenly lurches in the air, thighs squeezing tight as he fights to stay on top as Damen bucks up under him again. Laurent is slid down, and he feels something press hard against the swell of his ass. He gasps when the next buck pushes what is unmistakably Damen’s hard cock between his cheeks.
“Fucking slut,” Laurent grunts. There is so much oil that it slides hot and easy, letting Damen’s cock move against him in an intimately familiar way. Despite himself, Laurent feels heat pool in his gut. He feels his cock begin to stir. “Can you think of nothing else but rutting in the mud like a beast?”
Damen laughs, hips bucking a final time. Laurent has lost his concentration, and the grip he has on Damen’s wrist has slackened just enough for Damen to surge forward, knocking Laurent ass over.
Damen crawls over him, but does not try to pin him. Instead his hands are on Laurent’s thighs, spreading them open and slotting himself between them. His hips grind down, rubbing his cock against Laurent’s, groaning at the not enough friction.
Laurent is stunned, momentarily breathless. The tension in the air has suddenly shifted, heavier and hotter than mere moments before. The stakes are suddenly higher.
Sly as a vixen, Laurent reaches between his legs and wraps his hand around Damen’s cock. Damen’s hips falter, his eyes flutter, his body bows closer to Laurent. He has repeated Laurent’s mistake; his concentration is shattered, and it’s all Laurent needs to get his knee under Damen’s chest and shove him back hard.
It is Damen’s turn to fall on his ass. He grunts at the collision, and gives Laurent a pathetically wounded look, like he is offended that Laurent would not throw the match just to get Damen’s hands on him.
“Did you think it would be that easy?” Laurent sneers. “I intend to beat you.”
Laurent thinks it is his fierce competitive streak that pushes Damen back to his feet. He ignores his cock, bobbing red and hard between his legs, not wilting even slightly with inattention.
“You are very welcome to try,” Damen challenges, grinning devilishly. “But, when I win, I am going to hold you down and fuck you so hard you will beg for mercy.”
Laurent blinks.
Damen has never… He…
Laurent’s cock throbs.
“It is on,” he snarls.
He tackles Damen around the thighs, face dangerously close to his cock, and slams him onto his back. Damen laughs at the childish move, and wraps his legs around Laurent’s shoulders. Laurent shudders as he feels Damen’s cock rub against his face, smearing oil on his cheek, begging for his attention. Laurent claws out of the grip, cursing himself for carelessness, and tries to scramble out of reach so that he might collect himself, only for his palm to skid in a patch of dirt that has turned to sludge from the oil, sending him sprawling. Damen wastes not a moment and climbs onto his back, straddling Laurent’s ass. He grinds his cock between Laurent’s cheeks again, hands cupping them and squeezing, his breath hot and heavy in Laurent’s ear as he chuckles.
“I would not stake too much on the idea of victory,” Damen taunts him. His hands pin Laurent’s shoulders down when he tries to struggle. “I do not think you’re quite as good as you think you are.”
Anger flares hot in his belly, and Laurent wrenches his elbow backward, trying to catch any part of Damen he is able. The elbow slams into Damen’s chest, right over his ribs, and knocks the breath out of him. It is enough for Laurent to tangle his legs in Damen’s and twist them over, rolling back on top.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re an arrogant fool?” Laurent snarls.
Damen is trying his best to laugh around breathlessness. Tears of mirth well in his eyes, but he cannot wipe them away as Laurent tries to pin him down again.
“Little hellcat,” Damen chuckles. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a menace?”
No matter how hard he tries, it seems there is nothing Laurent can do to keep the force of Damen’s body contained. No matter how well he pins him down, drawing on the skills he has been painstakingly taught, Damen always managed to wrest himself free. No matter how determined he is, how dirty he fights, Laurent just cannot win.
He knows he’s being toyed with, knows that Damen isn’t trying as hard as he might with an opponent of equal skill, and the very idea of such pandering makes Laurent’s blood boil. He wants to prove himself capable of this ridiculous physical exploit, wants to prove to Damen he is not some weakling to be coddled.
But at every turn, taunting him, there is Damen’s cock; rutting against his ass when Damen straddles him, pressing against his stomach or side. Damen slips it between his oil slick thighs and thrusts between them when he has Laurent caught beneath him, shoving him down hard to keep him still, and it’s all Laurent can do to remember he is fighting to win. He is skilled at freeing himself, but no matter how well he evades and dodges, Damen’s hands seem always to find his ass again. He squeezes and kneads, gropes and caresses. Damen is fighting dirty. It is not a tactic Laurent had been prepared for him to employ.
It is hard to focus under the effect of Damen’s constant, tormenting touches. Laurent’s own cock grows hard, and it bobs between his thighs with every lunge, every tackle, distracting him in a way he cannot afford to be distracted. Laurent feels breathless with the tease of it, frustrated that he cannot stop Damen’s advances, cannot evade them or return them in the same taunting manner. He aroused against his will, distracted by a demanding lust that draws him helplessly to the heady musk of Damen’s masculine scent, the stench of his exertion, and the heavy weight of his hard cock brushing against him.
Damen is too strong. He is too skilled, and they both know it. Even if Laurent took a momentary advantage, it wouldn’t be enough.
Laurent feels, for the first time in years, utterly helpless, and more aroused than he has ever been in his life.
He knows that Damen has noticed.
When next he is pinned, Laurent feels Damen’s hands brush against him, between his thighs, too firm to be anything but deliberate, and his back arches at the shock of it. He kicks out viciously as he forces himself to push away.
Laurent can feel his concentration slipping.
He makes one mistake after another, finds himself on his back again and again, until, finally, Laurent finds himself cornered, backed up against the wall with nowhere else to turn. Damen stalks towards him, eyes dark, grin wide, sensing victory.
In desperation, Laurent turns to the table. He grabs the jar of oil, the only thing within reach, yanks off the lid and grabs the handle. He flings it outward, its content flying out in a golden arch, before splattering Damen from head to toe.
Damen stops dead in his tracks.
Laurent stares, wide eyed, entire body tense, but the sight of Damen covered in golden oil, dripping onto the dirt below, looking like a drowned rat, is too much. Giggles spill from his lips, ridiculous sounds he tries immediately to stifle, but the glare Damen levels at him unwinds the last of his control. He is laughing, doubled over helplessly, breathless with it, undone by it.
It takes only a moment for Damen’s glare to dissipate, and a grin to split his lips.
“You little shit,” Damen chuckles. He lunges forward, grabs Laurent around the waist, and flings him about. Laurent’s laughter barely halts as he finds himself suddenly rolling on the floor, with Damen looming above him. He is wet and slick and slimy, and he absolutely smothers Laurent in it, rubbing himself against Laurent like a cat so that he might cover him everywhere. As they roll they churn the dirt, turning it into a muddy sludge. It is filthy and disgusting, and Laurent cannot stop laughing.
Eventually they find their feet, skidding a little in the mud, and grapple again. Damen grabs a hold of Laurent’s hand, keeping it tightly immobilised in his fist as the other grips behind his neck. It is like being embraced by a slimy squid, Laurent thinks, when oil splashes between them with every impact of their bodies. Laurent shakes his arm, trying to get out of the hold, his own hand anchored behind Damen neck. Their foreheads are pressed against each other’s shoulders, and Laurent can hear Damen’s grunts of exertion, hot in his ear. He tries to shove Damen’s head down, tries to get his shoulder in under his arm, tries to dislodge the grip Damen has on him, and finds himself constantly blocked.
In a desperate bid he yanks his arm free, brings it up underneath Damen’s shoulder, and tries to use his bare strength to wrestle Damen to the side, but the oil renders his grip useless. In the precious seconds his fumble costs him, Damen shoves Laurent’s head down, gets his arm around Laurent’s neck, and swings him around again, throwing him to the ground.
Laurent grunts as his knees collide with the dirt. He fights hard to remain on them, locking his arms and thighs, muscles straining against Damen’s hold. He tries to throw Damen off, to get him to slip in the mud, but there is no universe in which Laurent could best Damen based on strength and skill alone. It is simply not feasible. And so, Laurent uses what other methods are at his disposal, and slams the back of his head into Damen’s chin.
Damen laughs as he falls hard on his hands. He wipes a thin trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth where he has bitten his tongue. Laurent assesses this briefly, and when satisfied the damage is negligible, gets back onto his feet, skidding a little and nearly losing his balance.
“That was dirty,” Damen says, pushing up from his knees. “You are good. Who has been teaching you?”
Laurent smirks. “Perhaps I simply have a talent for it.”
Damen laughs and shakes his head. “You may be many things, Laurent, but a natural athlete is not one of them.”
Laurent snorts and shrugs. “You should pay more attention to the activities of your kyroi.”
Damen blinks owlishly. “Nik?”
Laurent grins.
Damen, too, gets back to his feet, and they begin to circle each other, like two lions prowling, watching and waiting for the right opening to make the kill.
“What did you blackmail him with?” Damen asks. “I cannot imagine he would be pleased with the opportunity to be so close to you.”
“On the contrary, an excuse to topple me on my ass more than pleases him,” Laurent smirks. “I didn’t think he’d insist on the nudity, but he is more traditional about this than even you.”
Truthfully, Laurent does not expect this to affect Damen as much as it does.
Damen is so stalwartly Akielon about wrestling, why should it be a noteworthy matter to him that his lover and closest friend have fought together in the nude, slick with oil, bodies straining with exertion, as they are now? Clearly Laurent has misjudged him, because the heat in Damen’s eyes is scalding. The curl of his lip suddenly vicious.
Jealousy makes his lover dangerous.
An idea starts to take form in Laurent’s mind.
“Oh, it appears I have struck a nerve. Tell me, lover, what is it about the thought of Nikandros and I engaging in such an… intimate embrace that stirs you?” He chuckles, taunting. “He is rather fond of climbing on top of me. It is the only way to wrest me into submission, you see. I do not make it easy.”
Damen growls, like an animal. “Laurent.” His tone is warning.
Laurent smirks. “He is very strong. Not as strong as you, perhaps, but much more determined. He works himself into such a frenzy about it, and, well, you know how exercise affects the body. Don’t you, lover?”
Damen suddenly lunges. His hands find a firm grip on Laurent’s shoulders, fingers digging in hard. Laurent tries to fight it as best he can, but it is though a switch has been flipped inside Damen. He is impossibly strong, entirely too solid, and there is little Laurent can do when he finds himself being thrown on his back, where Damen wastes no time in climbing on top of him.
Laurent tries to get an arm up and around his neck, but Damen slams his hands to the ground, pinning his wrists in one giant palm as he shoves Laurent down harder with his body, driving the very breath out of him. He is an unyielding mass atop Laurent, as immovable as a mountain. It is as though he has been merely toying with Laurent before this, allowing him minor concessions to dangle hope of victory before his face, when all along he has been capable of ending this in seconds.
Laurent continues to struggle, desperation fuelling his efforts, but the futility of it is entirely too obvious. He is pinned, and Damen knows it.
Laurent struggles halt when he rather belatedly registers that the hot, hard press against his stomach is Damen’s cock. It slips against him in the oil, a burning touch that steals Laurent’s breath.
Damen might have won this match, but Laurent is not ready to give up victory yet.
He manages to wrap his legs around Damen’s waist, but the move is not a strategic one. He wants Damen closer. Breathless, Laurent chuckles, “Jealous, lover?”
Damen growls low . “Yield.”
Laurent smirks, squirms just for show; he knows Damen is too strong. “Never.”
Damen moves closer, shoving Laurent’s hips up higher as he bends forward, folding Laurent nearly in half.
“Submit,” he growls again, deeper and darker and hotter .
“Make me.”
Damen’s free hand fists his cock so suddenly Laurent can’t help the cry that escapes him. His feet thump against Damen’s back, his thighs strangle him at the waist, but Damen doesn’t let go. Laurent throws his full weight behind his arms, trying his damndest to free his hands from Damen’s grip, but it has all the effect of a child batting a stone wall.
Laurent’s cock is slick from the oil, and Damen’s fist glides over it smoothly. His grip is hard, unrelenting, so much tighter than he would usually dare. Laurent groans desperately, his breaths coming shallow. The edge of pain from the strangling hold intense, a hot, aching sensation that Laurent has never felt before.
Laurent grinds his ass down against Damen’s erection, delighting in the way it slides between his cheeks, hard and throbbing. Damen’s hand relinquishes his cock, and Laurent complains at the loss, though he only has to suffer it a moment before Damen’s fingers are brushing over his entrance.
There is enough oil on his hands that the touch is smooth. Damen presses his thumb against Laurent’s hole, teasing the tip through the tight furl of muscle and digging in enough to make Laurent squirm.
His press is too gentle, compared to the vigour with which he pumped Laurent’s cock. Damen handles him too cautiously, even now in the midst of his violent passion. Laurent wants the pain of the stretch, wants to feel the burn of unprepared muscle being forced to open, he wants to be overwhelmed by the sheer size of his lover’s fingers inside him. He knows there is only one way to goad Damen into giving him what he wants.
“You should know, this position is familiar,” Laurent snarls. He delights in the way Damen’s eyes darken to cinders, his fingers reflexively digging inside Laurent. “Nikandros was fond of keeping me pinned like this.”
He’s lying through his teeth, of course. Nikandros would likely rather remove his own fingernails than pin Laurent this intimately. It is hardly a wrestling move.
But, Damen doesn’t know that.
Damen’s hands tighten around his wrist, tight enough to hurt now, though this is the only outward sign of his jealousy that Damen displays. Laurent attempts only a cursory resistance, much too focused on how Damen’s finger isn’t doing what it’s supposed to.
A change in tactic is required.
Laurent wriggles, struggling harder against Damen’s grip on his hands. While Damen is distracted, he manages to get his knee up against Damen’s chest, and shoves hard. Damen stumbles, and Laurent’s foot catches him again on the shoulder, forcing him back and releasing Laurent from his hold.
Laurent turns to scramble away, pushing himself to his knees, but he has misjudged the force of his blow and Damen has already recovered. A hand grabs his ankle, yanks hard. Laurent yelps as his leg is jerked out from under him, and he collapses back to the dirt.
He feels Damen’s hands on him, encircling his waist and yanking him up. He pulls Laurent’s ass towards him, pushes down between Laurent’s shoulder blades when he tries to rise. He is utterly immobilised, presented for Damen like a pet.
“So, that’s how it is,” Damen says.
He lowers himself, bending over Laurent’s body until his face hovers above his ass. Laurent realises what he means to do a moment before he does it.
The first press of Damen’s lips against his entrance is a shock. It has been so long since they’ve done this, since Laurent has allowed this intimate caress, that he has entirely forgotten how it feels, how the gentlest presses feel like little sparks of lightning dancing across his sensitive skin.
He groans, presses himself back onto Damen’s face, hissing when Damen’s grips his cheeks and spreads them, fingers digging in hard. The point of Damen’s tongue wiggles just inside his hole, the place where his rim is most sensitive, and Laurent’s hips buck.
He yelps when Damen’s broad hand suddenly spanks his left cheek.
He looks behind himself, glaring daggers at Damen, but Damen is far too busy driving the point of his tongue in deeper. He can feel the imprint of Damen’s hand still on his skin, the slight sting fading to a deep throb, pounding in time with the beating of his heart. What surprises Laurent more than anything is the way that dull throb suffuses across his groin, pooling low in his stomach and sending perfect heat to his cock.
“Again,” Laurent says.
That causes Damen to look up.
He occupies Laurent’s entrance with the pad of his thumb as he leans back enough to meet Laurent’s eyes. He raises an eyebrow, a question, seeking permission.
“Are you deaf,” says Laurent. “I said, again.”
The next slap lands on his right cheek, infinitesimally harder than the first, but Laurent feels it acutely. He gasps, hips jerking forward, away from the flare of the sting before the dull ache settles in. His hands claw at the ground when it does, somehow hotter and deeper than the first, making his cock throb.
“ More .”
Damen chuckles, breath ghosting over Laurent’s stinging, aching cheeks. Laurent makes a pitiful sound, an embarrassing sound, but Damen doesn’t care.
His palm lands again.
He does it inconsistently, between licking and sucking at Laurent’s hole, landing slaps of varying speed and strength at random spots on Laurent’s ass, never in the same place twice, never in a pattern Laurent can predict. Laurent’s ass in on fire, his cheeks stinging, but the hot ache that has settled into his bones makes him groan. The flare of pain is quick and sharp, but the deep throb that follows is sweet.
“I never knew you were such a needy slut,” Damen growls as he palms Laurent’s stinging cheek. “Have you thought about this before? With Nik, perhaps? Did you think about him holding you down when he won, punishing you for breaking the rules, for refusing to yield?” A thumb dragged heavy and insistent over Laurent’s hole, and Laurent tries to push back for more. Damen bit his throbbing left cheek. “Would you have liked that?” he growls. “Being fucked and spanked.” His hand landed again, the hardest slap yet, and Laurent’s entire body jolted. He let out a loud cry.
Laurent hadn’t expected Damen to get so into this, to become so jealous at the tease of Laurent’s words. He hadn’t seen this possessive, angry side of Damen. It made his cock ache with want, made his hole twitch with the need to be filled.
“Jealous, lover?” Laurent snarled, wriggling his hips, trying to get out of Damen’s grip before another hit could land. “Worried you won’t measure up?”
Damen wipes his finger clean before suddenly fucking in beside his tongue, and at the moment it finds that sweet spot inside Laurent, he lands three quick slaps; one at the apex of Laurent’s thigh, one under the swell of his cheek, and one squarely on the meat of his ass.
Laurent cries out, and only barely manages to prevent himself from spilling.
“Imagine if they saw you like this, on your knees with you ass in the air, desperate to be spanked,” Damen chuckled. He kisses one of Laurent’s cheeks, where the stinging is the worst. It must be red, Laurent thinks. His skin marks so easily.
Damen allows him to recover, focusing on his hole once more. He wriggles two fingers in beside his tongue, and together they thrust and probe and explore his depths. Damen knows Laurent enjoys it most when the tip of his tongue flutters gently against the sensitive outer ring, teasing the twitching muscle even as Laurent is stretched wide around Damen’s fingers. Damen is sure to do it often.
“Good?” Damen asks.
“Not good enough,” Laurent says.
He drops suddenly, rolling quickly over and out from under Damen, who is not quick enough to stop him. He scurries away, pushing himself to his feet and stifling a wince when it causes his ass to sting.
“If you want it,” says Laurent, “Come and claim it.”
The corner of Damen’s lip twitches. “It is always games with you.”
Damen is on his feet frighteningly quickly, and Laurent, in a dirty move, catches a handful of dirt and throws it in his lover’s face.
He manages to get to the far side of the room before he is overtaken. Damen slams into him, shoving him hard into the wall and crowding against his back. There is an arm around his waist, keeping him from squirming away, and a hand gathering his wrists, pinning them brutally hard above his head.
“Tease,” Damen growls in his ear. He rubs his cock into the crease of Laurent’s ass, stimulating the spanked raw skin, and Laurent cannot help but arch his back at the sensation of it. Damen feels so big against him, around him. His lover is inconceivably large and unfathomably strong.
Laurent wants.
“Fuck me,” he says.
Damen growls, a cadence lower, as he presses closer. Laurent can hardly breathe from how close he is.
“I want you inside me, I want you to split me open on your cock and make me scream so loudly everyone in this damned palace will hear.”
He feels a wetness at the crest of his buttocks, and knows his words incite a furore of lust in Damen, but his lover does nothing. Laurent will not admit to desperation, but he needs this badly. Too badly to let Damen get away with inaction, not when Laurent finally has him where he wants him.
“Do you require instruction? Have you forgotten how it works? Fuck me, you useless cur, you impotent bastard—”
Damen spins him, lifts him, holds him helpless against the wall, terrifying inches above the ground, and fucks a finger hard inside him.
Laurent’s mouth opens soundlessly.
“Is this what you want?” Damen rasps in his ear, body crushing Laurent’s, so tight he can feel Damen’s heartbeat. Damen’s lips are on his neck, a hint of teeth brushing Laurent’s vulnerable skin. “Tell me that you want this.”
“ Yes,” Laurent growls. His hands are on Damen’s back, his nails raking down scar raised skin like a feral cat. “Make me yours.”
Damen’s bite is hotter than a brand, and Laurent’s entire body jolts at the shock of it. Arousal surges through him in a wave so intense his eyes roll, his mind goes positively blank. He slumps in Damen’s arms, like a puppet with its strings cut. He is utterly helpless to the awful, perfect sting of Damen’s teeth on his throat.
The finger inside him is pushed to the knuckle in a single, ruthless thrust. As Damen’s teeth release Laurent’s neck, as he licks at the mark he has made with smooth strokes of his burning tongue, he fucks the finger fast and hard inside. It is joined by another, far too quickly, and Laurent mewls at the wonderful ache of the stretch.
Laurent feels claimed, possessed, consumed. He is helpless in Damen’s arms, the knowledge echoes relentlessly in his mind. Damen could do whatever he wanted to Laurent, was more than capable of it. His strength is unmatched, his power knows no equal. Certainly not Laurent.
“Yes,” Laurent gasps.
Damen bites and sucks at his neck as he fucks his fingers in deep. He curls them inside, drumming against Laurent’s pleasure spot viciously hard, and Laurent writhes like a man possessed.
He feels the world tilt, and he finds himself on his back, laid out over the table by the wall. Damen’s attentions turn lower; he bites hard at Laurent’s collarbone, licks in the oil slick valley of his throat, noses down the muddied planes of his chest.
He mouth reaches Laurent’s nipple, and he wastes little time in sucking it into his mouth, much harder than Laurent was prepared for. Laurent jolts up, hands scrambling for purchase in Damen’s hair, but Damen shoves him down. He keeps a hand squarely on Laurent’s chest as he begins to nibble.
“Fuck.” Laurent cannot help but toss his head, writhe and struggle beneath Damen’s hold. “Damen-- fuck.” It is such an intense sensation, he can hardly stand it. His sensitive nipples have a line straight to his cock, and as Damen abuses them, fingering him hard in time with his bites, Laurent feels himself grow delirious with arousal, dangerously close to spilling once more. He’s never managed to come like this before, before, with only his nipples and ass stimulated. He thinks they’re about to test it.
Damen switches to the other nipple as he suddenly drives a third finger home.
Laurent makes a wretched sound, and he thinks he must have pulled out some of Damen’s hair, he tugs so hard. Damen pays him no mind, and merely holds Laurent down harder as he drives him to madness with his wicked mouth and cruel fingers.
Laurent is losing himself to this, to the edge of pain and the sweetness of pleasure. He gives himself willingly to Damen, his trust is iron, absolute, and he knows that release is close, he feels it building from his cheeks to his toes.
As he reaches the cusp, body tightening in anticipation of release, Damen withdraws, leaving him empty, gaping, aching at the loss.
Laurent whines, pathetically, and wants to punch Damen for leaving him like this. Damen wraps a hand around his cock, tight and hot, a distraction, mollifying him as he kisses his apologies against Laurent’s neck.
It’s pleasant enough, but it isn’t what Laurent wants.
Damen reaches above him suddenly, and Laurent’s gaze follows his hand. There is another jar of oil above Laurent’s head, close enough to reach, he realises. He watches Damen grab it.
Laurent licks his lips as he watches Damen slick up his cock. This is what he is yearning for, this is what will satisfy the hunger inside him. Laurent has never wanted this fiercely, never felt like he might die if he doesnt get that beautiful cock inside him now.
“Damen,” he gasps.
“Hush.” Damen licks up Laurent’s throat, his teeth scraping dangerously over his adam’s apple. “I have you.”
The first push is like fire. Laurent cries out, his back bowing off the table. He feels his thighs shake as they wrap around Damen’s waist, feels his hands tremble as they clutch at Damen’s arms.
He feels like he’s being split open, stretched so wide, so fast, he’s being hollowed out. He feels every inch of Damen’s cock as it slips inside him, every new stretch deep within like a punch to the gut.
It hurts, it aches, and it’s the most exquisite feeling Laurent has felt in his life.
When Damen is inside, when Laurent’s body has drawn him in to his hilt, Laurent wraps around him like a bear. He cannot relinquish him, cannot let him go, cannot give up a single inch of this fullness. He buries his face in Damen’s neck, inhales the musk of his masculine scent. His cock throbs where it rubs against the hard line of Damen’s abs. He feels his chest shake, his eyes water.
He is utterly undone.
“Laurent.”
Damen’s voice is a splash of cold water to his face. Laurent is suddenly boneless, he collapses back onto the table with a dull thud. He feels Damen nosing again at his throat, hot kisses pressed against the bite that still throbs.
“Damen,” Laurent says. It is a marvel he can find his voice. “I told you to fuck me.”
Damen cups his face in gentle hands, kisses his lips sweetly, softly, reverently, like Laurent is the most precious thing in the world.
“I love you,” Damen says.
And then…
And then.
Laurent’s entire body seizes as Damen draws his cock out and slams back in. It is an unforgiving thrust, almost violent, it fills Laurent to the brim, past what he is capable, pushing his limits into territory they have not yet explored. Laurent thinks he might have screamed if he could have found his voice.
Damen does not stop; he fucks Laurent hard and fast and endlessly, his stamina the stuff of legend. Laurent can barely hold on as his entire body is rocked with the force of these thrusts, it feels as though his strength has abandoned him. He is like jelly, wobbling precariously on a plate. The thought makes him laugh deliriously.
“Damen,” he gasps, voice breaking. “Please.”
He feels Damen’s arms around him, sliding under his shoulders. He feels the world righting as he is lifted up, held aloft in the air by the strength of Damen’s arms. Damen slams him on his cock, up and down, again and again, like Laurent’s body is merely a tool for his pleasure, his hole just a sleeve for Damen’s cock. Damen’s to use as he pleases.
The thought makes Laurent’s head spin.
He buries his face in Damen’s hair, wraps arms tight around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. His lover never pauses in his thrusts for a moment.
He feels bigger like this, stretching Laurent wider than he has before. Perhaps it is the very force of gravity aiding Damen as he lifts and drops Laurent on his cock, perhaps it is simply bloodlust and delirium, but Laurent feels like he is being broken apart, reshaped, repurposed. Damen’s cock carving its own space inside of him, where only he will ever belong.
“So good, Laurent.” Damen’s voice is a light in a dark, a lifeline that Laurent clings to. “So tight for me, darling.”
The praise sends shivers down Laurent’s spine. The satisfaction of being good for Damen is heady.
“This is what you wanted, hmm? You wanted me to fuck you like this, like an animal. Like you are mine.”
“Yes.”
“Gods, I would do anything for you. I would fuck you until you’re gaping like a whore, until your hole is dripping with my come like a little slut. I would fuck you senseless, until that beautiful tongue is only capable of begging for mercy. Laurent, is that what you want?”
“Fuck.”
The eloquence is not his usual, and Damen laughs. The sound makes Laurent shiver.
“I do not… I cannot… You…”
Laurent cannot speak, and Damen gives him no quarter. He slams Laurent hard on his cock, arching an eyebrow like he is daring Laurent to try and continue.
“Brute,” Laurent growls.
“Sweetheart.”
Laurent is lifted higher, suddenly, Damen’s cock slipping out of him. He makes a sound of protest, wanting it back inside, but Damen drops him to the ground, steadies him when his legs threaten to give, and turns him roughly, bending him over the table.
Fingers are at his entrance, two dipping in, twisting and driving hard inside him. It stings wonderfully, and Laurent arches for it obediently.
“Perfect,” Damen says. The fingers are replaced with his cock.
He fucks inside hard, slamming his hips against Laurent’s ass, and Laurent is driven up to his toes. He makes a sharp sound at the intrusion, babbling some nonsensical string of sounds, hands clawing desperately at the table as his ass is stretched wide. He feels Damen’s hand in his hair, gathering Laurent’s long locks into a tail and gripping it tight before yanking it back. Laurent’s back bows high off the table, the sudden stretch making him clench hard around Damen’s cock. He cries out at the feeling, the pain of it shaking him to his core.
“Damen!” He shouts.
He feels Damen’s hand caress his ass. “Can’t have you going loose, now can we?”
Damen uses the hand on his hip to pull Laurent back towards him as he thrusts into him hard, uses the hand on his hair to keep Laurent from moving away. It is rough, there is an undeniable edge of pain, but this only heightens the pleasure. Laurent is filled so deep, stretched so wide, he can feel his legs shaking. Were Damen not keeping him up, he would have long since collapsed.
He thinks he will be gaping at the end of this, Damen has fucked him so open his hole might never close again. Always he will be stretched like this, re-shaped for Damen’s cock to fit inside him. A warm, wet hole for his lover to fuck as he likes.
“Harder,” Laurent begs. “Deeper.”
But even when Damen’s hips press flush to his ass, it isn’t deep enough. Laurent wants to feel it again, like before, when Damen held him aloft and there was nothing at all preventing his cock from plunging so far inside Laurent could feel it in his stomach.
“You are insatiable, lover,” Damen grunts.
“Lift me.”
Damen slams in deep, presses himself flush along Laurent’s back, a hand wrapping around Laurent’s throat to turn his face. He kisses him, teeth and tongue wreaking havok on Laurent’s lips.
“You want me to manhandle you?” Damen says. “You want me to hold you helpless, and fuck you on my cock as I like?”
“Stop wasting time.”
Damen bites his jaw, hard, licks at his ear and kisses the underside, where Laurent has always been sensitive.
“As you wish.”
He pulls Laurent with him as he moves back, Damen’s cock still buried inside him. It forces Laurent to the tips of his toes, the angle rubbing his sensitive spot relentlessly. Laurent can only hold on, his entire weight is balanced so precariously on Damen’s cock.
One of Damen’s hands smooths over his chest. He flicks a nipple, squeezes it, rolling it between his fingers as his other hand travels down Laurent’s thigh. He catches him under the knee, hiking his leg up and hooking it over his elbow.
The breath is driven from Laurent’s lungs, his body forced to contort as Damen holds him firmly in this awkward position. Damen feels bigger like this, as Laurent’s body is forced to squeeze around him.
“Like this?” Damen asks. His teeth worry the skin at the junction of Laurent’s neck and shoulder.
Laurent hardly needs to reply, his sounds alone are more than confirmation. His arm stretches up, curling around Damen’s neck and fisting his hair. He holds on as Damen bends a little, jostling Laurent deliciously as reaches down to grasps Laurent’s knee, and lifts that one up too.
Laurent is now held entirely in Damen’s arms, his legs spread lewdly, knees hooked over Damen’s forearms, utterly powerless. He has no leverage, not even a little, he is a puppet in Damen’s arms, entirely at his mercy.
“Gods, you are beautiful,” Damen whispers in his ear.
The first time he bounces Laurent on his cock, Laurent screams.
From this angle, Damen presses directly against his sweet spot, but, more than that, it fills him so completely Laurent can feel it in his stomach . It aches sharply, perfectly, in all the right ways, stretches him so that he feels the sting in his toes. It is wonderful and brutal and everything Laurent needs. He feels his eyes roll, lets his mouth fall open. He does not care how he must look. He cannot think beyond this.
Damen never seems to tire as he fucks Laurent up and down on his cock, he seems barely strained at the effort. One of his arms bends Laurent’s leg inwards a little further, so that he can press his hand flat against Laurent’s chest, before that hand travels up to his throat and wraps around it tight. Laurent feels instantly light headed, like he’s merely floating on a sea of bliss. His head falls back against Damen’s shoulder, lolls with every lifting of his body.
Laurent’s lips form words, and he thinks he’s chanting Damen’s name, or perhaps he’s begging for the mercy Damen has promised to deny him.
“Fuck, look at you,” Damen growls in his ear. His voice sends shivers down Laurent’s spine. “Fucked out already, and I’ve barely started.”
Laurent moans. He squeezes his eyes shut.
“I-- Damen I can’t--”
“Hush, darling. You can take it.”
Damen seems so certain, so sure, but Laurent is not. He’s at his wit’s end, he feels as though his mind is unravelling, melting, disintegrating into nothing but base instinct. It’s too much.
“Please, please,” he hears himself beg distantly.
Damen holds him tighter, crushing him into his body. He’s warm, wet with oil and exertion, his chest rises and falls like the sea, the crash of waves against the shore is Laurent’s body colliding with his.
“You’re doing so well, Laurent. Taking so much for me.” Laurent feels his lips, rough and hard against his face, kissing any place he can reach. “Just a little more, and i’ll make you feel so good. Can you do that for me, darling? Can you take a little more?”
Laurent is beyond words. He can only groan and try to nod, though it is more a rocking of his head against Damen’s shoulder. Damen will understand, he can read Laurent too well.
It feels like it lasts hours, and it may well have for all Laurent knows. Damen’s strength is a bottomless resource, unending, he is like a god, and Laurent is helpless against it. Damen grunts and groans in Laurent’s ear, a beautiful chorus that makes Laurent’s chest bloom with something warm and bright. His words somehow penetrate the fog of Laurent’s mind, words of praise; how good Laurent is, how much he is taking, how beautiful he looks like this. Filthy promises of what Damen would do with him, how wide he’d split him open just to watch the way his pretty hole gapes, dripping his come before he would push it back inside, keeping it there inside his body because that is where it belongs. He is bold, in his pleasure. He is shameless, more than he has ever been. There is an animal inside him, and it has been unleashed.
Laurent doesn’t know if he has come. Pleasure suffuses through him in constant waves, bubbly and glorious and intense, stealing his breath away with each new thrust, becoming indistinguishable from anything else. Tears blur his vision and cascade down his cheeks, and he cannot stop them. His breath comes in quiet sobs and breathy moans, and always, always he cries Damen’s name.
Eventually, finally, Damen’s movements start to stutter. He has held out so long, long enough to drive Laurent positively delirious, be he is only a man, and even he can only stand so much. Laurent feels Damen bite roughly at his ear, rousing his attention, and it singles on him so quickly and easily it should be impossible. But it’s Damen. It’s always Damen. There is nothing else in the world but him.
“Touch yourself for me,” Damen commands him.
To his credit, Laurent tries to obey. His arm, utterly boneless, unwinds from around Damen’s shoulder, and he tries to guide it to his lap, to take his cock in hand, but his grip is pathetic, and Damen’s jostling uncinches it.
“I can’t,” Laurent cries. “Damen, please, please.”
But Damen can’t touch him, not like this. He would have to first put him down, and that is not something Laurent would tolerate.
“Then you will come like this,” Damen growls. “On my cock, with nothing else.”
Laurent shakes, his entire body stiffening and arching against Damen.
It starts with a tickling in the back of his head, building until it starts to snake down his spine in little rivulets of throbbing pleasure. It pools in his gut, bunching so tight he cannot breathe. It teters there, on the precipice of something he has never managed to surpass before. Release is so close, within his grasp, he can feel it. He hovers there, for long agonising seconds, certain that he will die if he cannot come, if his body will not overcome the unimaginable and send him spiraling into release.
All it takes is a hard thrust of Damen’s cock, hilting so deep inside him he can feel it in his throat, battering against his sweet spot so brutally that Laurent’s vision literally blackens, before finally, finally he spills.
It is an agonising pleasure. It is slow and sluggish, and focused so wholly on that spot inside him that his cock is almost an afterthought. He feels it suffuse down his thighs, little sparks of something unspeakably good, fanning up through his gut and into the very heart of him. His muscles bunch and jump, he feels coiled with tension so tight he fears he might break. His toes curl, his hands go limp and he feels them twitch around nothing.
He closes his eyes, his mouth falls open, his entire body goes limp and boneless as wave after wave of perfectly agonising pleasure rush through him. He cannot think, he cannot speak, he cannot breathe. All Laurent can do is hold on, desperately, as he comes completely apart.
The aftershocks never seem to stop. Everytime he thinks it is over, another wave of pleasure rushes through him, leaving him trembling and exhausted and shivering with overstimulation.
He still feels Damen inside him, he feels himself clench and jerk on his cock with every new wave. Damen is holding him perfectly still, not so much as jostling him in his grip. Laurent can hear his breath, hot and needy in his ear as coherency returns. He can feel the hardness of his cock, still inside, and knows that Damen must be desperate.
Damen’s arms are finally showing strain, shaking a little as he holds Laurent resolutely up. Laurent reaches up, when he is able, and curls a hand in Damen’s hair.
“Put me down,” he says. He winces at the hoarseness of his voice.
Damen hesitates a moment before he does so, letting Laurent slip out of his arms gently and carefully. He doesn’t let him go entirely, for which Laurent is glad when his boneless legs collapse under him. Damen merely picks him up again, and gently lays him back over the table.
He smoothes a hand down Laurent’s back, trailing his fingertips down the crease of his ass. He palms the still red cheeks, spreads them a little to gaze at Laurent’s red, puffy hole. Laurent watches him over his shoulder, sees him lick his lips.
“You’re gaping,” Damen says. There is a tone of pride in his voice. He is very pleased with himself. “Can you feel it?”
His fingers ghost over Laurent’s hole, tips catching a little where the puffy ring of muscle is loose and pliant.
“Yes,” Laurent shivers.
“I should keep you like this always,” Damen says. “I should keep you gaping and loose and open, ready at any moment. Would you like that?”
Laurent whines, pushing himself into Damen’s fingers to take them back inside. His cock is still hard, he realises as it rubs against the wood of the table. He doesn’t think it has softened at all.
“Fuck me,” Laurent demands of him. “Spill inside me. I want you to.”
Damen kisses a cheek, his tongue smoothing over the beginnings of a welt. “Yes.”
He fucks into Laurent again, as hard and fast as before. Laurent is almost too sensitive to bear it, the sensitive place inside him feels swollen and overstimulated, and the brush of Damen’s cock is almost maddenning.
Damen pulls him up, as his thrusts start to stutter, hips trying to get ever deeper inside Laurent’s body. He curls an arm underneath Laurent, finding his cock and giving it long, delicious pumps in time with his thrusts. He growls in Laurent’s ear, pressing himself flush to his back and peppering kisses where he can reach.
“Come with me,” he says. “I want to see you.”
Laurent wants it too, he wants Damen to fill him, and spur him into orgasm with the sensation alone. But it is too soon, too much, and the thought of coming scares him, overwhelms him.
“I can’t,” he tries to plead, but Damen won’t have it.
“Yes you can, my love. Come with me, I need you to, I need it.”
Laurent is helpless, utterly and totally helpless against him. He hears Damen groan, feels his hips slam home, his cock deep and heavy and insistent inside him. He cannot feel it, not quite, but he knows it is happening all the same; Damen’s cock is spilling inside him, his seed is filling him up, filling him deep, claiming him for his own.
Though he doesn’t mean to, Laurent comes. He cannot help it.
It is sharp and intense this time, where before the pleasure was consuming and sluggish. It jolts through his body like lightning, almost painful on his still frazzled nerves. He cries out, scrambling desperately at the table, trying to get away from something he cannot escape. Damen holds him down, hand still wrapped around him, stroking him gently and reverently though his touch still feels like fire. Laurent’s animal brain kicks in and he thrashes, trying to escape the stimulation, but Damen is immovable. He grinds his hips once, twice, and Laurent feels tears slip out of his eyes when his pleasure spot is mercilessly prodded.
“Please, Damen, please, mercy, I can’t, I can’t--”
He hears Damen hush him, feels a kiss against his cheek. Damen releases his cock, smoothing his hand instead over Laurent’s belly, where he can still feel the muscles fluttering. Laurent sobs in relief, collapsing forward against the table. He whines pitifully when Damen grinds his hips one last time, before he pulls out.
Damen kneels behind him once more, spreading his cheeks wide and watching his hole twitch and flutter, lips puffing out before Laurent’s body draws them back in. He is ruined, broken open, gaping wide and glistening with oil. Laurent feels something pooling just inside him, Damen’s come, threatening to leak out.
The moment it drips out of him, Damen pushes it back in. Two fingers, buried deep. Laurent cries out, it is too much, he can’t bear it.
“You wanted it inside you, didn’t you?” He hears Damen say. “I should find something to seal you up, so that it mightn’t leak out. Your hole is so loose and gaping, I don’t think you could keep it inside if you tried.”
Laurent feels flushed with something hot and shameful, and impossibly his cock twitches. Damen must see it, for he laughs, and smoothes his other hand over Laurent’s ass.
“Perhaps next time,” he says.
He stands, and pulls Laurent up with him. Laurent wants to protest, he feels far too dizzy to stand upright, but Damen is pulling him in, enveloping him in his large arms, and cradling him against his breast.
“Gods,” he says, his chest rumbling. “Laurent, that was incredible.”
Laurent grunts against him, but he nuzzles his cheek against the warm flesh and sighs. It feels good to be held like this, gently, lovingly, after being broken apart. He feels warmth and love well inside him, blooming in his chest like a rose.
“Indeed,” Laurent rasps. “Now, if you would-- wouldn’t mind,” his voice breaks, “I need to sit down, lest my legs give out.”
Damen laughs, and kisses his forehead. “We can’t have that,” he chuckles.
Laurent yelps in a very unkingly manner as Damen suddenly sweeps his legs out from under him, hoisting him into his arms like he is a blushing bride.
“Put me down!” Laurent yells, swatting his chest ineffectually. “Damen, I will fucking castrate you.”
“Empty threats, my love,” Damen replies, with the kind of self assured arrogance that makes Laurent want to hit him. “I don’t think that would be pleasant for either of us.”
And so, in broad daylight, where anyone might see them, Damen wanders through the summer palace, nude and filthy, with a seething Laurent ensconced in his arms. He reaches the baths, blessedly nearby, and slips inside. It is empty, for which Laurent is grateful, as Damen sets him down by the edge.
Laurent aims a kick at his shin in retribution for his embarrassment, but overestimates the strength of his knees and they buckle under him. Damen sets him right again with another laugh, and pulls him close. He brushes hair from his hair, tucking sweaty, mud stained strands behind his ear. He leans down and kisses him softly, cradling his face.
“Would you allow me to attend you, Your Majesty?” He whispers low in Laurent’s ear.
Laurent snorts, looping his arms over Damen’s shoulders. He fists a hand in Damen’s hair and yanks back, suddenly, exposing his throat, before Laurent promptly seals his lips over it, sucking and biting until Damen manages to push him away.
“Hellcat,” Damen growls at him.
Laurent looks pointedly down, to where Damen’s length is once more stirring between his thighs, and smirks. “Attend me,” he says, before slipping down into the water, pulling Damen behind him.