[The moment is close. He can tell as much, even lacking experience, by the taste on his tongue — slicker and sharper, heady — by the swelling of flesh, and the restless movement of limbs beneath him. Already his mind plunges ahead to the delirium of how it will feel to swallow Laurent whole when he comes. He's never cared for his own release, sought furtively alone less on the basis of pleasure than frustration. He had thought he would care even less for someone else's. Yet now, bent over Laurent's lap, he can think of nothing but the bottomless hunger inside of himself to see this done, to consume everything, to feel it happen.
A noise of protest, guttural as a growl, touches his lips briefly when he's pulled off. It fades at the look on Laurent's face, when their gazes cross. The blue of those eyes seems impossible — dark as an ocean, melted, framed by golden lashes. The contrast of Laurent's hot, flushed cheeks is striking. He has already resigned himself to the knowledge that Laurent is attractive, but now he seems the most beautiful person Sasuke has ever seen, male or female, in his life. It sits behind the ribs of his chest like a jewel. Burning, dangerous sapphire.
Sasuke starts to rise up, using the hinge of their joined hands, possessed with the sudden need to kiss that mouth — even with his own still messy and wet from cock. He does not get that far, instead pushed back down and directed into a rhythm. His mouth is soft, yielding as it obeys this, swallowing over and over, faster, throat working around saliva and the taste of Laurent, masculine and heady.
He can feel the persistent throb of his own arousal squeezed between his legs, like an insatiable fire stronger than it has ever been. With all the strength in the upper half of his body, Sasuke holds him down so that he won't twist away at the last instant, so that he can take everything into his mouth when it comes in that rush of heat. It becomes too important; as if given the opportunity, here at the end, Laurent will try to escape him.
I want. What does he want? Whatever it is, Sasuke will kill to give. He knows that then.]
[ it has never been like this before. it's the only thing he thinks when pleasure crests over him, when he can't hold on any longer and he finally gives in. it's gratifying, and terrifying, and for long moments he knows nothing but heat and desire and the unfamiliar sensation of having something you want. he holds onto sasuke as if he will float away without him, as if he'll open his eyes and once again find himself lost. a sound escapes him, a mere gasp of breath, and he doesn't realize it's sasuke's name on his lips, it's sasuke himself that he tugs upwards with a sharp, insistent grip until they're face to face once more, his vision focusing onto mismatched eyes and a wet, abused mouth.
laurent says nothing, though a hundred words spring to his tongue. strands of blond cling to his temples, misted with sweat, his lips parted as he catches his breath, chest rising and falling. every surface of his skin feels sensitive, flushed. there's an uncomfortable wetness between his legs that he's all too aware of.
his hand lifts, tremulous fingers settling on the crescent of sasuke's cheek. his thumb traces the wet seam of sasuke's mouth, knowing that if he kisses him, he will taste himself. he has never done such a thing before. his lashes lower as he draws sasuke's lips to his, the press of it soft and impermanent, not quite a promise or a goodbye or anything. he moves his tongue to trace the line of his bottom lip, to press between them to explore, fleeting. their tongues touch, and he lingers, committing the scorch of flame inside of him to memory.
a soft, wet sound as their mouths part — ] You can go.
[ laurent's hand slides to sasuke's chest, and as he rises to sit up he pushes sasuke's body apart from his. for a moment all is still, the two of them sitting tangled on the bed, laurent's palm pressed to the thrum of sasuke's heart. ]
[Later, he will attribute the dizzy, spinning state of his mind to breathlessness from restricted airflow — an understandable reaction after having his throat used, after Laurent immediately draws him to his lips before there even exists time or space to breathe, while he's still panting and swallowing around that bitter-salt taste. He can feel it still thick on his tongue. Then it is there between their mouths, intimacy that becomes almost tender and inexplicable because Laurent is the one who has engaged it. He is dizzy and out of sorts, outside rational thinking. So of course the tide of emotion breaks through like a wave. Of course he lets it get to him.
He lets Laurent get to him. From the slow, exploratory pass of lips and tongue, to fingertips on his cheek, to mingling exhales, to the cold and sudden separation. Sasuke goes back on his knees unresisting, brow furrowed in the first hurt signal of confusion.]
That's it? [His voice is rough, scraped and rasping. He swallows again thickly, and as he does — as each breath returns him to clarity — the confusion clears to a bright, white sky of anger.] You're done with this.
[Now? Forever? The most vulnerable act he's committed with another person, and Laurent wants him to leave, is ready to see him gone. Automatically he snatches the pale wrist of the arm extended to keep him at bay; his heart races beneath that warm, open palm. In the same mercurial whiplash, anger cools to gray, dull embers of resignation. His grasp loosens and falls away.]
Fine.
[It's spoken in the quietest voice he has used so far, no more than a murmur as he withdraws the rest of the way, gathers the shaky remains of his composure, and slips noiselessly off the end of the bed. He should, truly, expect no different — as Laurent has made known again and again. Hopeful, childlike naivety has no place between them.
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no subject
A noise of protest, guttural as a growl, touches his lips briefly when he's pulled off. It fades at the look on Laurent's face, when their gazes cross. The blue of those eyes seems impossible — dark as an ocean, melted, framed by golden lashes. The contrast of Laurent's hot, flushed cheeks is striking. He has already resigned himself to the knowledge that Laurent is attractive, but now he seems the most beautiful person Sasuke has ever seen, male or female, in his life. It sits behind the ribs of his chest like a jewel. Burning, dangerous sapphire.
Sasuke starts to rise up, using the hinge of their joined hands, possessed with the sudden need to kiss that mouth — even with his own still messy and wet from cock. He does not get that far, instead pushed back down and directed into a rhythm. His mouth is soft, yielding as it obeys this, swallowing over and over, faster, throat working around saliva and the taste of Laurent, masculine and heady.
He can feel the persistent throb of his own arousal squeezed between his legs, like an insatiable fire stronger than it has ever been. With all the strength in the upper half of his body, Sasuke holds him down so that he won't twist away at the last instant, so that he can take everything into his mouth when it comes in that rush of heat. It becomes too important; as if given the opportunity, here at the end, Laurent will try to escape him.
I want. What does he want? Whatever it is, Sasuke will kill to give. He knows that then.]
no subject
laurent says nothing, though a hundred words spring to his tongue. strands of blond cling to his temples, misted with sweat, his lips parted as he catches his breath, chest rising and falling. every surface of his skin feels sensitive, flushed. there's an uncomfortable wetness between his legs that he's all too aware of.
his hand lifts, tremulous fingers settling on the crescent of sasuke's cheek. his thumb traces the wet seam of sasuke's mouth, knowing that if he kisses him, he will taste himself. he has never done such a thing before. his lashes lower as he draws sasuke's lips to his, the press of it soft and impermanent, not quite a promise or a goodbye or anything. he moves his tongue to trace the line of his bottom lip, to press between them to explore, fleeting. their tongues touch, and he lingers, committing the scorch of flame inside of him to memory.
a soft, wet sound as their mouths part — ] You can go.
[ laurent's hand slides to sasuke's chest, and as he rises to sit up he pushes sasuke's body apart from his. for a moment all is still, the two of them sitting tangled on the bed, laurent's palm pressed to the thrum of sasuke's heart. ]
I'm done with this.
no subject
He lets Laurent get to him. From the slow, exploratory pass of lips and tongue, to fingertips on his cheek, to mingling exhales, to the cold and sudden separation. Sasuke goes back on his knees unresisting, brow furrowed in the first hurt signal of confusion.]
That's it? [His voice is rough, scraped and rasping. He swallows again thickly, and as he does — as each breath returns him to clarity — the confusion clears to a bright, white sky of anger.] You're done with this.
[Now? Forever? The most vulnerable act he's committed with another person, and Laurent wants him to leave, is ready to see him gone. Automatically he snatches the pale wrist of the arm extended to keep him at bay; his heart races beneath that warm, open palm. In the same mercurial whiplash, anger cools to gray, dull embers of resignation. His grasp loosens and falls away.]
Fine.
[It's spoken in the quietest voice he has used so far, no more than a murmur as he withdraws the rest of the way, gathers the shaky remains of his composure, and slips noiselessly off the end of the bed. He should, truly, expect no different — as Laurent has made known again and again. Hopeful, childlike naivety has no place between them.
Without a look back, he makes for the door.]