[ the world spins in a new direction, too fast — his back pressed to the bed, his legs trapped as if in an iron vise. he doesn't relent the press of the knife, steady against his skin, so steady that there's blood drawn between them in sasuke's achingly tender movements. ]
Enough. [ of the subject of damen from sasuke's mouth. not enough of his body pressed to his, made apparent by laurent's hard grip on sasuke's shirt, in the process of inching it higher and only stopping when anger flashes in his gaze. ] I would have you beaten within an inch of your life, and watch with pleasure as you were mounted on a cross to be picked at by vultures. If you were him.
[ he considers pressing the knife in. does, minutely, flicking his finger to trace a shallow line of red along sasuke's throat. when he withdraws the blade, he wipes it fastidiously on the shoulder of sasuke's shirt. ]
You shouldn't speak. [ laurent's voice finally shakes, just the barest hint of a tremor. what sasuke is doing — his face nestled so close, heated breath soaking his skin — sends an ache through him, so powerful that his breath rushes out. his hand finds the nape of sasuke's neck, gripping delicately, his fingertips pushing up into dark hair. ] I can't quite — take it.
[ he can't think. if he starts, it will devolve into panic, into chaos, and then this will be gone. this fleeting warmth, this closeness. this ache. he despises that he wants it, needs it, that his body sings with a primal yearning he’s felt so little of that it threatens to break him.
he twists, snaking out from beneath sasuke’s trap, turning their bodies abruptly so that neither is atop the other — instead, they face each other, both on their sides, breath mingling in their closeness. somehow, laurent finds sasuke’s leg tangled between his thighs, an accidental maneuver.
without thinking — or perhaps thinking a thousand unwanted thoughts at once — he tightens his muscles, pinning sasuke’s leg in place. a sound nearly makes it out of his throat, brutally stifled around a desperate breath. minutely, he bears down, a pool of liquid heat filling him from the friction of pressure between his legs. his lashes shutter, sasuke’s dark eyes flickering before his gaze, his grip tight in his hair. ]
I don't forgive you. [ he clings to this whispered truth, his words nothing but a shivering breath. his hips tighten as he pushes closer, back arching into a pleasant curve. his hand moves to grip sasuke's shoulder. ] Just this.
no subject
Enough. [ of the subject of damen from sasuke's mouth. not enough of his body pressed to his, made apparent by laurent's hard grip on sasuke's shirt, in the process of inching it higher and only stopping when anger flashes in his gaze. ] I would have you beaten within an inch of your life, and watch with pleasure as you were mounted on a cross to be picked at by vultures. If you were him.
[ he considers pressing the knife in. does, minutely, flicking his finger to trace a shallow line of red along sasuke's throat. when he withdraws the blade, he wipes it fastidiously on the shoulder of sasuke's shirt. ]
You shouldn't speak. [ laurent's voice finally shakes, just the barest hint of a tremor. what sasuke is doing — his face nestled so close, heated breath soaking his skin — sends an ache through him, so powerful that his breath rushes out. his hand finds the nape of sasuke's neck, gripping delicately, his fingertips pushing up into dark hair. ] I can't quite — take it.
[ he can't think. if he starts, it will devolve into panic, into chaos, and then this will be gone. this fleeting warmth, this closeness. this ache. he despises that he wants it, needs it, that his body sings with a primal yearning he’s felt so little of that it threatens to break him.
he twists, snaking out from beneath sasuke’s trap, turning their bodies abruptly so that neither is atop the other — instead, they face each other, both on their sides, breath mingling in their closeness. somehow, laurent finds sasuke’s leg tangled between his thighs, an accidental maneuver.
without thinking — or perhaps thinking a thousand unwanted thoughts at once — he tightens his muscles, pinning sasuke’s leg in place. a sound nearly makes it out of his throat, brutally stifled around a desperate breath. minutely, he bears down, a pool of liquid heat filling him from the friction of pressure between his legs. his lashes shutter, sasuke’s dark eyes flickering before his gaze, his grip tight in his hair. ]
I don't forgive you. [ he clings to this whispered truth, his words nothing but a shivering breath. his hips tighten as he pushes closer, back arching into a pleasant curve. his hand moves to grip sasuke's shoulder. ] Just this.