[ it's a hard and swift fall, and yet the unforgiving ground does not rush up to crush his bones in the aftermath. it's a state of suspension, of confusion and clarity both, of the overwhelming nature of carnal need. sasuke swallows him down as if his mouth was shaped just for this, for him, and laurent falls and falls until he forgets everything around him — the room, his hatred, the rawness of his ever-present agony — except for one. one man. a singular thread, dark and shimmering, among a sea of colors he dislikes.
sasuke is determined to bring him to climax. or — no, sasuke is determined simply to prove something that laurent has long since stopped thinking about, because now he's too busy trying to understand how this all could have happened with such startling swiftness. laurent is not an amorous man. he takes time to warm up and even longer to eke out a moment of biological pleasure. and yet he is on the cusp of it now, his whole body fighting it and yearning for it at once. sasuke's mouth is like a heady cavern of smoke, like the sweetest honey dripping amber. laurent is a bruised peach at the height of summer, fit for bursting.
their hands twine, laurent's trembling fingers trading silken locks for a steady grip. he hasn't the faintest idea where sasuke might've learned such a thing. his eyes crack open, pellucid blue, darkened with desire. ]
Up. [ he holds onto his command despite the strain in his voice, one finger grazing sasuke's jaw to guide him off his cock. the sensation sends a shudder through him, and sasuke has scarcely come up for air before laurent presses his hand — the one not currently clinging to sasuke's fingers in a pathetically romantic gesture of affection — onto the crown of sasuke's head and has him take his cock again. laurent's lashes flutter, his breath escaping him in a soft moan. his touches his jaw once more in repetition. ] Do that.
[ his fingers ache, strangely, to touch elsewhere, to stroke the line of his cheek and trace the arch of his brow, fumbling, unfamiliar motions that he has only ever imagined but never practiced. but he is so close to the end, his breath quiet and quick, so close that he knows sasuke must taste him more and more now, must feel the tightening in his muscles. if he doesn't like any of these sensations — well, it doesn't matter. it certainly doesn't matter what sasuke thinks laurent likes. there will be no repeat of this.
and for some reason that thought leaves him aching inside. ]
Faster. [ sasuke's gaze is too much, as overpowering as the pleasure that threatens to overtake him with each agonizing moment. he struggles with the words, having never voiced them before. ] I — I want — [ and it's all he can manage, his knees locked around sasuke's shoulders, squeezing tight. ]
no subject
sasuke is determined to bring him to climax. or — no, sasuke is determined simply to prove something that laurent has long since stopped thinking about, because now he's too busy trying to understand how this all could have happened with such startling swiftness. laurent is not an amorous man. he takes time to warm up and even longer to eke out a moment of biological pleasure. and yet he is on the cusp of it now, his whole body fighting it and yearning for it at once. sasuke's mouth is like a heady cavern of smoke, like the sweetest honey dripping amber. laurent is a bruised peach at the height of summer, fit for bursting.
their hands twine, laurent's trembling fingers trading silken locks for a steady grip. he hasn't the faintest idea where sasuke might've learned such a thing. his eyes crack open, pellucid blue, darkened with desire. ]
Up. [ he holds onto his command despite the strain in his voice, one finger grazing sasuke's jaw to guide him off his cock. the sensation sends a shudder through him, and sasuke has scarcely come up for air before laurent presses his hand — the one not currently clinging to sasuke's fingers in a pathetically romantic gesture of affection — onto the crown of sasuke's head and has him take his cock again. laurent's lashes flutter, his breath escaping him in a soft moan. his touches his jaw once more in repetition. ] Do that.
[ his fingers ache, strangely, to touch elsewhere, to stroke the line of his cheek and trace the arch of his brow, fumbling, unfamiliar motions that he has only ever imagined but never practiced. but he is so close to the end, his breath quiet and quick, so close that he knows sasuke must taste him more and more now, must feel the tightening in his muscles. if he doesn't like any of these sensations — well, it doesn't matter. it certainly doesn't matter what sasuke thinks laurent likes. there will be no repeat of this.
and for some reason that thought leaves him aching inside. ]
Faster. [ sasuke's gaze is too much, as overpowering as the pleasure that threatens to overtake him with each agonizing moment. he struggles with the words, having never voiced them before. ] I — I want — [ and it's all he can manage, his knees locked around sasuke's shoulders, squeezing tight. ]