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It was good. It was so good, and he wanted more of it, wanted to drive it towards its conclusion, wanted it never to end. He was only half aware that he was speaking words unchecked and in his own language.

‘I want you,’ said Damen, ‘I’ve wanted you for so long, I’ve never felt like this with anyone—’

‘Damen,’ said Laurent, helplessly, ‘Damen.’

His body pulsed, almost climaxing. He barely knew the moment when he pressed Laurent onto his back, the brief sundering, the need to be back inside him, Laurent’s mouth opening under his, the tug on his neck as Laurent took hold of it and pulled him in. His weight bore down on Laurent, shuddering heat as he entered him again with a strong, slow push.

And Laurent opened for it, a single, perfect slide. Damen took up the rhythm that he needed, their bodies tangled and a harder, continuous fucking. They were caught in each other, and when their eyes met Laurent said, ‘Damen,’ again, like it meant everything, and as if Damen’s identity was enough, he was shuddering, pulsing against the air.

Strident as proof, Laurent came with Damen inside him, Damen’s name on his lips, and Damen was lost to it, his whole body given over, the first deep pulse of his own climax just one part of a choking pleasure that took him, overwhelming and bright, into oblivion.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DAMEN WOKE TO the impression of Laurent beside him, a warm, wonderful presence in his bed.

Gladness welled, and he let himself look, a sleepy indulgence. Laurent lay with the sheet tangled around his waist, the morning sun dusting him with gold. Damen had half thought to find him gone, as he had once before, vanished like the tendrils of a dream. The intimacy of last night might have been too much for either or both of them.

He lifted his hand to brush Laurent’s cheek, smiling. He was opening his eyes.

‘Damen,’ said Laurent.

Damen’s heart moved in his chest, because the way Laurent said his name was quiet, happy, a little shy. Laurent had only ever said it once before, last night.

‘Laurent,’ said Damen.

They were gazing at each other. To Damen’s delight, Laurent reached out to trace a touch down over his body. Laurent was looking at him as if he couldn’t quite believe the fact of him, as if even touch could not quite confirm it.

‘What?’ Damen was smiling.

‘You’re very,’ said Laurent, and then, flushing, ‘attractive.’

‘Really,’ said Damen, in a rich, warm voice.

‘Yes,’ said Laurent.

Damen’s smile widened, and he lay back in the sheets and just luxuriated in the idea, feeling ridiculously pleased.

‘Well,’ Damen owned, turning his head back to Laurent eventually, ‘You are too.’

Laurent dropped his head slightly, on the edge of laughter. He said, with absurd fondness, ‘Most people tell me that right away.’

Was it the first time that he had said it? Damen looked at Laurent, who was now lying half on his side, his blond hair a little mussed, eyes full of teasing light. Sweet and simple in the morning, Laurent’s beauty was heart-stopping.

‘I would have,’ said Damen, ‘if I’d had the chance to court you properly. If I’d come in state to your father. If there had been a chance for our countries to be—’ Friends. He felt the mood shift, thinking of the past. Laurent didn’t seem to notice it.

‘Thank you, I know exactly how it would have been. You and Auguste would have been slapping each other on the back and watching tournaments, and I would have been trailing around tugging on your sleeve, trying to get a look in edgewise.’

Damen held himself very still. This easy way of speaking of Auguste was new, and he didn’t want to disturb it.

After a moment, Laurent said, ‘He would have liked you.’

‘Even after I started courting his little brother?’ said Damen carefully.

He watched Laurent stop, the way that he did when he was taken by surprise, and then lift his eyes to meet Damen’s.

‘Yes,’ said Laurent softly, his cheeks reddened slightly.

The kiss happened because they couldn’t help it, and it was so sweet and so right that Damen felt a kind of ache. He pulled back. The realities of the outside world seemed to press at him. ‘I—’ He couldn’t say it.


Tags: C.S. Pacat Captive Prince Fantasy