‘And so?’
‘Do you want me to suck your cock?’ said Laurent, precisely. ‘Because I don’t plan to. If you are proceeding on the expectation of reciprocity, then you had best be forewarned that—’
This was too convoluted for bed play. Damen listened, satisfied himself that in all of this talking there was no actual objection, then simply applied his mouth.
For all his seeming experience, Laurent reacted like an innocent to this pleasure. He let out a soft shocked sound, and his body re-formed around the place where Damen was giving his attention. Damen held Laurent in place, hands to hips, and allowed himself to enjoy Laurent’s slight, helpless shifts and pushes, the quality of his surprise, and the hard act of repression that followed, as Laurent tried to even out his breathing.
He wanted it. He wanted every stifled response. He was aware of his own arousal, half-forgotten, pushing against the sheets. He drew up to the head and furled his tongue there, so well pleased with the experience that he lingered, suckling, before sliding back down again.
Laurent was, by far, the most controlled lover Damen had ever taken to bed. The head tossing and cries, the easy, open sounds of past lovers were in Laurent a single tremor, or slight hitch of breath. And yet, Damen found himself primed to each reaction, the tension of his stomach, the faint trembling of his thighs. Damen could feel Laurent’s cycle of reaction and repression beneath him, as impetus gathered, building in the lines of Laurent’s body.
And felt it stymied. As rhythm built, Laurent’s body locked down, his responses repressed. Looking up, he saw that Laurent’s hands were fists in the sheets, his eyes closed, his head turned to one side. Laurent, out on the shattered edge of pleasure, was holding himself back from climax by sheer force of his impossible will.
Damen drew off, pushed himself up to search Laurent’s face. His own body, fully primed, took up barely a quarter of his attention as Laurent’s eyes came open.
After a long moment Laurent said, with painful honesty, ‘I . . . find it difficult to let go of control.’
‘No kidding,’ said Damen.
There was a drawn-out pause. And then: ‘You want to take me, as a man takes a boy.’
‘As a man takes a man,’ said Damen. ‘I want to take pleasure in you, and to please your body with mine.’
He said it with soft honesty. ‘I want to come inside you.’ The words rose, like this feeling within him. ‘I want you to come in my arms.’
‘You make it sound simple.’
‘It is simple.’
Laurent’s jaw tightened, the shape of his mouth changed. ‘Simpler to play the man than to roll over, I venture.’
‘Then tell me your own pleasure. Do you think I’m just going to flip you over and mount?’
He felt Laurent react to the words, and the realisation opened up inside him, like something tangible transmitted through the air.
He said, ‘Is that what you want?’
The words fell into a stillness between them. Laurent’s breathing was shallow, and his cheeks were flushed as he closed his eyes, as though he wanted to block out the world.
‘I want,’ said Laurent, ‘I want it to be simple.’
‘Turn over,’ said Damen.
The words rose up from within him, a low, soft command, full of surety. Laurent closed his eyes again, as if in decision. Then he acted.
In one smooth, practiced motion, Laurent turned onto his stomach, yielding to Damen’s gaze the clean curve of back and buttocks, the latter canting slightly upwards as his thighs slid apart.
Damen wasn’t prepared for it. To see him present that way, the scintillant unfolding of limbs, it was nothing he’d ever thought Laurent would . . . this was where he wished himself to be, where he hoped—he’d barely let himself hope—they both wished him to be, but the words he’d meant as a prelude had brought them here before he was ready. He felt nervous suddenly, green, as he hadn’t felt since he was thirteen—uncertain of what lay on the other side of this moment, and wanting to be worthy of it.
He drew his hand softly up Laurent’s side, and Laurent’s breathing went uneven. He could feel uneasiness pass over Laurent in waves.
‘You’re so tense. Are you sure you’ve done this before?’
‘Yes,’ said Laurent. The word came out sounding strange.
‘This,’ Damen persisted, placing his hand where it made his meaning explicit.
‘Yes,’ said Laurent.
‘But—wasn’t it—’
‘Will you stop talking about it.’