[ his heart beats a jagged pace, his mind pulled in several directions at once, most urgently looking for escape. he doesn't move. the cost to make any decision in this moment seems far too high. to lose this. to gain — what? a fuck for one night. and yet sasuke doesn't even know how to do such a thing, and laurent has never —
warmth at his throat. a shiver crawls across his skin, the slow spread of tension and heat. he looks away, not daring to close his eyes, expecting the jaws of the trap to snap shut at any second, but in the space that should hold violence, he feels only the fluttering hesitation of touch. tentative. soft. yielding in a way he has never known sasuke to be.
he opens his mouth to speak, but all he manages is the expulsion of a tight breath. his hand has somehow found purchase at the sharp edge of sasuke's hip, claw-like in its grip. desperation holds him a vise, his longing like a blade slicing through him with a slow, agonizing intent. ]
You treat me — [ he drags in a breath, as if he's run a great distance. ] As a man treats a boy.
[ he relinquishes his grip only to lift his hand and press his fingers into sasuke's hair, gripping his skull in the crude mockery of something loving, pieced together by someone who has never experienced it. the anger that never leaves him holds him taut, but there's want in his eyes — fearful, distrustful want. he wants this as much as he wants to pull away. to be repulsed by sasuke simply means to look nowhere else.
he charts a path, maneuvers them together. ignoring the violent turmoil that erupts in his chest, he presses their mouths together, hard and deep, refusing to pull away even as he's pulled into a darkened maelstrom of memories — bitter snow and the snap of bone, his uncle's silken sheets, tangled bodies in the water. his fingers close around inky black hair, yanking savagely as he tumbles sasuke onto the bed, landing lithely atop him. his headband slips off and bounces once on the mattress, laurent's hair falling over his shoulders like a veil.
snatched from beneath the pillow, a cold knife touches sasuke's throat. laurent's eyes are steady, though his cheeks are wild with color, his chest rising and falling rapidly. ]
Did you think my forgiveness would come so easily? [ he traces the blade down to sasuke's collarbone, pressing the point against the jut of bone. ] That I would simply spread for the man who tried to kill me?
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warmth at his throat. a shiver crawls across his skin, the slow spread of tension and heat. he looks away, not daring to close his eyes, expecting the jaws of the trap to snap shut at any second, but in the space that should hold violence, he feels only the fluttering hesitation of touch. tentative. soft. yielding in a way he has never known sasuke to be.
he opens his mouth to speak, but all he manages is the expulsion of a tight breath. his hand has somehow found purchase at the sharp edge of sasuke's hip, claw-like in its grip. desperation holds him a vise, his longing like a blade slicing through him with a slow, agonizing intent. ]
You treat me — [ he drags in a breath, as if he's run a great distance. ] As a man treats a boy.
[ he relinquishes his grip only to lift his hand and press his fingers into sasuke's hair, gripping his skull in the crude mockery of something loving, pieced together by someone who has never experienced it. the anger that never leaves him holds him taut, but there's want in his eyes — fearful, distrustful want. he wants this as much as he wants to pull away. to be repulsed by sasuke simply means to look nowhere else.
he charts a path, maneuvers them together. ignoring the violent turmoil that erupts in his chest, he presses their mouths together, hard and deep, refusing to pull away even as he's pulled into a darkened maelstrom of memories — bitter snow and the snap of bone, his uncle's silken sheets, tangled bodies in the water. his fingers close around inky black hair, yanking savagely as he tumbles sasuke onto the bed, landing lithely atop him. his headband slips off and bounces once on the mattress, laurent's hair falling over his shoulders like a veil.
snatched from beneath the pillow, a cold knife touches sasuke's throat. laurent's eyes are steady, though his cheeks are wild with color, his chest rising and falling rapidly. ]
Did you think my forgiveness would come so easily? [ he traces the blade down to sasuke's collarbone, pressing the point against the jut of bone. ] That I would simply spread for the man who tried to kill me?