[ he can't say that sasuke does not take orders well, in this. if laurent was frightened before, he's terrified now — and yet he doesn't wish to stop. this is more than he's ever had, further than he's ever gotten, and his fantasies don't hold a candle to the rush he feels now. he has imagined sasuke above him and below him, the dark smolder of his gaze, the powerful strength in his body. he has despised every moment that left desire curling in his belly like an untreated sickness.
this is the cure. to have him. to feel this. and then discard him like yesterday's garbage.
cool air cascades along his heated skin, now bare. he does not look, because he can't fathom the thought — naked, vulnerable, wanting. his uncle used to gaze at him with open hunger before laurent could even identify the look on his face. now it's just half the court and all of the soldiers. and sasuke, though nothing about this feels like the aggressive, roaming stares that follow him. sasuke looks at him with something like reverence, with a wanting that feels cavernous. laurent does not feel like nearly enough to fill this deep well, and he almost stutters out a halt to the entire ordeal, a hasty response to his own misgivings. but then — a softness at his thigh, a gentleness he’s never felt. his cock aches to be touched. laurent’s muscles tighten, his hands moving of their volition to grasp at raven hair, dragging sasuke’s mouth closer to his need. ]
Open. [ a taut command between his own panting breaths. he’s done this before, given instructions on the crude, clinical art of sucking a cock. in this, he has a sordid type of knowledge: he might not be the most skillful at the act himself (the thought of having a cock in his mouth still repulses him), but his uncle had loved his young, unripe body. he has been serviced more times than he can remember.
without preamble, he guides sasuke’s mouth to his waiting cock. something rushes over him, pleasure or revulsion or both, the smallest sound in his throat. wet heat surrounds him. for a long moment he doesn’t move, his fingers gripped tight in sasuke’s hair, his hips quivering, the barest tremor of breath passing through his lips. blue eyes, lashes swept low, gaze down to the pleasant stretch of sasuke’s lips. ]
Not all at once. [ he pulls sasuke off with a sharp tug of his hair, recalibrating. he should be more in control than this. pleasure is a heady, poisonous thing. laurent takes a steadying breath, his gaze cooling. ] Just your tongue, first. You should know the places that are most sensitive, unless you’re even less than a virgin.
no subject
this is the cure. to have him. to feel this. and then discard him like yesterday's garbage.
cool air cascades along his heated skin, now bare. he does not look, because he can't fathom the thought — naked, vulnerable, wanting. his uncle used to gaze at him with open hunger before laurent could even identify the look on his face. now it's just half the court and all of the soldiers. and sasuke, though nothing about this feels like the aggressive, roaming stares that follow him. sasuke looks at him with something like reverence, with a wanting that feels cavernous. laurent does not feel like nearly enough to fill this deep well, and he almost stutters out a halt to the entire ordeal, a hasty response to his own misgivings. but then — a softness at his thigh, a gentleness he’s never felt. his cock aches to be touched. laurent’s muscles tighten, his hands moving of their volition to grasp at raven hair, dragging sasuke’s mouth closer to his need. ]
Open. [ a taut command between his own panting breaths. he’s done this before, given instructions on the crude, clinical art of sucking a cock. in this, he has a sordid type of knowledge: he might not be the most skillful at the act himself (the thought of having a cock in his mouth still repulses him), but his uncle had loved his young, unripe body. he has been serviced more times than he can remember.
without preamble, he guides sasuke’s mouth to his waiting cock. something rushes over him, pleasure or revulsion or both, the smallest sound in his throat. wet heat surrounds him. for a long moment he doesn’t move, his fingers gripped tight in sasuke’s hair, his hips quivering, the barest tremor of breath passing through his lips. blue eyes, lashes swept low, gaze down to the pleasant stretch of sasuke’s lips. ]
Not all at once. [ he pulls sasuke off with a sharp tug of his hair, recalibrating. he should be more in control than this. pleasure is a heady, poisonous thing. laurent takes a steadying breath, his gaze cooling. ] Just your tongue, first. You should know the places that are most sensitive, unless you’re even less than a virgin.