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The first time Lady Ianthe of the North engaged in a public flirtation with Damen during a gathering of courtiers and bannermen, Laurent rationalized her actions as nothing more than the banal plot of a noblewoman who sought to augment her courtly influence in the most uninspired way possible - a public show of loyalty and the disposition of her lands sealed with the promise of a private exchange of pleasures, if either king was so disposed. Laurent, people had learned quickly, had no interest in women, so it fell on Damen to receive the innuendos and offers of the opposite sex.
And why wouldn’t men and women in equal measure aspire to the notoriety of being bedded by a king? After all, it was expected that kings would take on a parade of lovers, pets, and, before slavery was abolished in Akielos, compliant and well-trained bed slaves as proof of virility. And few were more viril than King Damianos of Akielos. Even in a pragmatic court like that of the Two Kings, such posturing in the interest of garnering influence was a tale as old as time, behavior Laurent was not only familiar with in Veretian nobility, but fully expected.
It was only after Lady Ianthe had waylaid Damen on the way to his private chambers with a more explicit proposition that Laurent understood the blunt objective for what it was - a bold campaign to install herself as more than a dalliance in King Damianos's bed, an arrangement that did not account for Laurent.
“She has you in her sights. Her prowess for sexual conquests of all kinds is legendary,” Laurent told Damen as they took breakfast in their chambers. “The Vaskian Empress is said to be quite fond of her visits, though clearly she does not restrain her interests to only women.”
Damen put aside a letter he was trying, and failing to read. “I thought Veretians frowned on couplings between men and women?”
“Her lands are to the north of Chastillon,” Laurent said. “There, they do as they please and she is the fruit of that permissiveness.”
“She is not unattractive,” Damen said. “I can see why so many fall to her charms. And she’s a shrewd one, too. Negotiations for the installation of a new fortification on her lands went better than most.” The twinkle in his eyes, the deep crease of his dimple, sparked a wave of irrational irritation in Laurent.
“She’s adequate for a tumble, if you prefer that type,” Laurent huffed, setting aside his unfinished honey-drizzled bread, finding his appetite had suddenly abandoned him.
Damen’s face split into a grin as he reached across the table and kissed Laurent’s scowl.
The problem was, she was that type. Specifically, she was Damen's type. Closer in age to Damen and an accomplished politician, the pale beauty shared a striking resemblance to Laurent’s coloring, hair almost white-gold and eyes like violet peonies. And Damen’s observation had been accurate. She was shrewd, politically astute, and difficult to outmaneuver. A bend of mind which, if she were not trying to crawl between Damen’s legs, Laurent would almost respect.
In any other person, such shenanigans would bother Laurent very little, except that the few who set out to catch Laurent or Damen's eye rarely possessed the will or the means Lady Ianthe did. Damen’s admiration for her beauty did nothing to assuage Laurent, who came to the conclusion that she was not an adversary to trifle with.
Lady Ianthe made another attempt at an impression during dinner that evening. The renowned beauty curtsied low when entering the dining hall dressed in a sheer frock that left few of her curves to the imagination. Music lilted from a kithara played by Erasmus, Lord Torveld’s once bed slave, now companion.
Laurent witnessed Lady Ianthe’s composure and her manipulation of custom to seat herself at the table where counselors of high rank had the ears of the Kings. Her glances at Damen, the fawning at each word he spoke, and her gifts to the court - an extraordinary string of pink and violet pearls the size of giant marbles that lay in a velvet box, a perfect accompaniment to the smaller ones that hung around her neck - provided her with the perfect segue of conversation when Damen wondered about them.
“They are from the northernmost coast of Vere, after Marches, Exalted.” Her calculated demureness made Laurent want to spill wine over her pretty hair.
“I’ve lived near the sea most of my life,” Damen said, “And have never seen pearls of that size or coloring.”
“They are prized jewelry, the preferred gift of betrothals, exchanged between lovers.” She bowed her head. “Both men and women wear them with pride.” She opened the box and held it out. “It is my honor to gift them to you.”
Damen raised an eyebrow at this but Laurent, who had decided Lady Ianthe should not go unsurveilled, signaled to a servant. “Your generosity exceeds your reputation, Lady Ianthe,” Laurent took the heavy pearls from the servant and handled them before presenting them to Damen. “We thank you.”
“Your servant requests the honor of putting them on you, Your Highness,” she continued, directing her words at Damen with slight emphasis. “Exalted”
“That is the work of a body slave,” Laurent responded before Damen could answer. “Slavey has been abolished. It would be beneath a woman of your rank to make such an obeisance.”
Her eyes flickered with something cold and calculating. “Thank you for your consideration, Your Highness. The Veretian influence is nowhere more evident than in the outlawing of slavery.”
“That was my initiative,” Damen said, nodding toward Laurent. “One your king advocated for as well.”
“Of course, Exalted. The alliance brings nothing but honor to our kingdoms. Rarely has a political marriage yielded such benefits as that which binds our two kings.” She bowed her head.
Laurent wanted to snarl, “It was a love match,” but would not give her that satisfaction. With impeccable poise, they saw the evening through, Laurent retiring to their chambers while Damen stayed back with Nikandros.
The next day, Laurent was committed to entertaining the Patran delegation while Damen continued negotiations with the delegations from the north, which included Lady Ianthe. Despite the pleasant divertissement provided by Lord Torveld, Laurent returned to the King’s chambers, his mind spinning compulsively around one scenario - Lady Ianthe and her designs on Damen. He imagined her sitting very close to him, a stray hand on his leg. A press of her breast as she reached past him for something. She would have dressed for him, made herself sensuous with perfume, soft with silk, and armed herself with charm.
He’d witnessed those kinds of machinations in his uncle's court, even following them with detached interest. Now, in place of disinterest, his mind twisted with all the ways he could have Lady Ianthe quartered and pieces of her flung out over the Ellosean Sea.
***
Laurent didn’t look up when the heavy door of the chamber opened and closed much later, nor did he glance away from his book at Damen’s familiar steps as he crossed from stone to carpet. He remembers what Damen wore to meet the northern delegations - crisp, white chiton held with the gold lion pin, red cape with edges embroidered in gold, sandals that tied up over his powerful calves. A crown like olive leaves buried in his boyish curls. Statuesque, beautiful, commanding, with a kind, easy spirit to match. Nothing like Laurent’s aloof beauty, prickly elegance, and dangerous wit. Only the most feeble-spirited person could resist someone like Damianos.
“Laurent?” The question hung in the air.
Laurent lifted his head and saw what Damen saw - him, seated in the velvet reading chair, wearing nothing but a silk Veretian robe that hung open in haphazard comfort, a book resting on Laurent's lap. Around his neck, a thin gold chain that stretched the length of his chest and ended in one of the pearls Lady Ianthe had given them, tear-drop shaped the color of soft coral which Laurent worried between his thumb and forefinger. He felt the chill - the border palace was located close to the sea, but in a temperate region of the unified kingdom, a compromise between the persistent cold in Arles and the year-round heat of Ios. But the fire and the velvet chair were like a warm glove cradling his body.
“You’ve returned,” Laurent answered, projecting an indolent boredom as he looked down again and turned a page with one hand, the other toying with the pearl.
“I have.” Damen’s voice was warm, tinged with humor, sending heat through Laurent that blazed hotter than the fire in the hearth. Heat that seemed to wind through his body and rise, unbidden to his cheeks. He ignored it.
“Was it an entertaining evening? Lady Ianthe is such a generous and welcoming companion.”
“It was work,” Damen answered, stepping to a long, wooden table to pour a cup of water, and taking a long sip. “And yes, she is. A straightforward Veretian, surprisingly rare.”
The thump on the table told Laurent that Damen had set down his cup. He turned another page. “A pity I was tied up with the Patran delegation. I would have enjoyed such uncomplicated companionship.”
“You had Lord Torveld, who is still charmed by you.” Damen stepped closer, and Laurent felt him wind a lock of hair around his finger. Barely a touch, but Laurent felt it like the impact of skin against skin.
"Ah yes. But you see, he is besotted by Erasmus," Laurent answered. “Lord Torveld has freed him and written him a contract so exorbitant, a nobleman would be forced to part with half a kingdom to buy it out. He lives openly with your friend as his kept lover, making him quite possibly the wealthiest pet in all the kingdoms.”
Damen released the lock of hair, brushing it behind Laurent’s ear, then trailed a large, calloused finger over his shoulder, down his chest. "He has ensured Erasmus's prosperity. That is in great part thanks to you."
Laurent sighed. "So much gratitude."
A long moment passed, before Damen let his finger slide a painfully slow trajectory over his skin, pausing at Laurent’s puckered, pink nipple to draw a lazy circle around it.
Laurent’s breath shuddered out of him but still didn't move when Damen hooked the same finger over the gold chain and lifted it, the pearl slipping from Laurent’s finger. He looked up in time to see Damen press the cool surface to his lips, eyes hooded and dark.
“I didn't think you favored pearls.”
“I have been recently inspired,” Laurent said evenly.
A rich chuckle escaped Damen’s lips before he lowered the pearl to Laurent’s lips, running its marble-perfection across them. Laurent’s eyes were locked on Damen’s, who stared fixedly at his lips. As if enchanted, Laurent’s mouth fell open and he licked the pearl, the metal briefly cold and biting until the heat of his tongue bathed it. Damen slid it out of his mouth and circled the same pink nipple, the wetness drying, forcing the already taut peak to surge to an aching, painful point. Laurent, who had held himself in studied indifference, could not keep the hitch from his breath.
Damon released the pearl and was on his knees before Laurent. Laurent uncrossed his legs, which Damen spread until Laurent sat, wide and exposed to him.
“Is this a homecoming? Or a warning?” Damen said, running his hands over the long, firm muscles of Laurent’s thighs.
“Take it as you like,’ Laurent whispered, tossing the book aside to thump loudly on the floor. “You are a free man.”
Damen’s hands froze on Laurent’s thighs. “We are both Kings. Our freedom is conditioned on the wellbeing of our subjects...and each other.”
Laurent felt something harden in his chest. “Conditional freedoms. All hail the alliance.” He made to pull away, but Damen placed his hands on either side of him, face very close and very serious.
“You let that snake poison your thoughts."
"She has no power over me," Laurent snapped.
"I chose you freely, as I believe you have chosen me.” Damen studied him, before cupping Laurent’s cheek, his palm warm and strong and safe. “I am at your every mercy. A pretty face with a devious mind and a ruthless nature is not enough to turn me away from you.”
Laurent gave a short huff of laughter. "I detest when you use my words against me." He turned his face away, searching for equanimity and unable to find it. His body sang, his cock wept, and his heart was a trapped bird fluttering its too-giant wings in a gilded cage. When he opened his eyes, it was to Damen's waiting gaze. Damen, who seemed to see right through him, all his petty jealousies and insidious insecurities and somehow, loved him anyway.
“She really is your type,” Laurent said softly.
Damen, impossibly big and imposing, touched him with a gentleness Laurent would never get used to. “She isn’t you. No one is you.”
Laurent reached out to Damen and pulled him against his chest, and Damen let him, burrowing in Laurent's warm body. Fingers full of dark-brown curls, Laurent pet Damen sweetly, trailing sensation over his scalp and the skin at the back of his neck. When Damen pulled back, he tilted his head up, brown eyes melting in supplication, lips parted, a silent plea for a kiss.
Laurent cupped Damens’s head and kissed him, slow and luxurious, all warm lips and tongue. Damen stroked Laurent with that slow cadence that carried Laurent to the limits of endurance, his fingers tangling in Laurent’s pearl chain. With the same care, Damen toyed with it a moment longer before removing it, placing it on the table beside the chair. He left a lingering kiss on Laurent’s collarbone.
“Don’t you like it?” Laurent breathed.
Damen lifted his head from where he was nuzzling Laurent’s neck. “I like it enough. I like you more.”
Laurent was close to making a comment on Akielon's lack of taste in jewelry but Damen began kissing his way down his chest, hot, open-mouthed kisses covering Laurent’s nipples, licking and biting them before smoothing the sting with another kiss. A slow, exquisite pleasure, Laurent let out a small gasp at the sensation. Damen always took him slowly, unraveled him, pulling his thoughts apart until thinking came to a full stop.
Damen’s hands were everywhere, sliding over his hips and thighs. The sensitive skin of his calves. The crease at the back of his knees. The join where his thigh met his hip. Laurent felt rather than saw Damen lick his belly button, tug at the trail of hair over his belly. Laurent quivered now, knew what was coming and lifted his hips in offering.
“Eager?” Damen said against his hips.
“Damen,” Laurent ground out, all his desires, all his pleasures wrapped up in one name. That Damen could give this to anyone else made Laurent want to raze cities to the ground. "Damen," he repeated, his inflection changing, growing more desperate.
Damen glanced up from where he was lavishing attention on his inner thighs and gazed at him with a reverence that nearly pulled a sob from Laurent.
With that same aching sweetness, Damen licked him slowly from the base to the tip of his cock, like an unfurling promise. Like every promise Damen had made to him and kept. He was inexorable, like the sea they lived near, or the mountains they’d crossed to reach the Vaskian kingdom.
Laurent watched Damen make love to his cock, licking the slit, suckling in that way that made Laurent's eyes roll to the back of his head. And when he swallowed him down, Laurent was lost to it until he wound his fingers in Damen's hair and tugged, unwilling to let things end like this.
"I want," Laurent began, savoring the words. "I want to come with you inside me."
Damen gave Laurent’s cock a last lick before pulling him up. Laurent searched for him under the material of his chiton.
“You’re overdressed,” Laurent said, sliding his hands over Damen’s powerful chest, his thighs, the prominent swell of his ass, palming and squeezing what he found there. Damen’s smirk was a challenge Laurent couldn’t refuse. He reached up to the gold lion pin, undid it and set it next to the pearl necklace - that silly, gaudy thing that now meant nothing - and undid Damen’s cloak and chiton in quick order.
“You’ve gotten good at undoing Aikelon clothing.”
“Only because there are two million fewer ties than their Veretian counterparts,” Laurent retorted, earning a husky laugh from Damen that he buried in Laurent’s mouth when his clothes fell, kissing him with unrestrained hunger. After an age of bruising kisses, Damen's fingers pressed into Laurent’s flesh, and turned him around without warning. Disorientation at this sudden change gave way to the awareness that they stood before his dressing mirror. Damen, enormous and naked behind him like an unbreachable wall against the world; Laurent, bright and clear as a star set against a dark sky.
Damen kissed Laurent's neck, ran a hand down over his chest and abdomen, stroked his cock, all while holding Laurent’s gaze through the mirror. His words came hot and urgent, against Laurent’s ear. “Do you think I could bear to let anyone get between us?”
Laurent stared dazedly, caught in the cocoon of pleasure Damen had created around him. His back warmed by the endless expanse of Damen’s chest, Damen’s kisses like spring rain, his hand possessing the most honest part of him.
“I could never share you,” Laurent rasped out. "I would tear them apart."
Damen released him, turned him and lifted him, forcing Laurent's legs around Damen’s waist. “Then we understand each other.”
Lips crushed together, Damen carried him to bed, where he set Laurent gently down, as if he was made of something breakable and not a powerful young man able to wield a sword and command armies. Pressing his entire length down on Laurent, Damen kissed him, licking into his mouth the way he liked, his urgency reaching a fever pitch.
Damen broke off the kiss to search for the vial of oil they kept in constant supply while Laurent turned over, canting into the air so what he wanted would not be confused. Damen ran his hands over Laurent’s sides, down his thighs, palming his ass as he spread him wide and gave a long, slow lick over the object of his desire. Laurent hissed and arched his back, wanting more. Wanting everything.
“Laurent,” Damen said as he worked his oiled finger inside, curling it in search of that spot that would ignite him. He followed with one a second. Laurent's breath came fast and hard as Damen lined himself up and pressed with exquisite slowness into Laurent's body.
Damen fucked him slowly, like the tightening of a kithara string, until he was wound to the breaking point, ready to snap. And then, Damen slowed further. Laurent fisted the blanket as he shook, every slow thrust a push towards the limits of his endurance. And from the way Damen’s breath rattled, the way his body trembled, he was fast approaching his own limits as well.
“Damen, please,” Laurent almost keened, wanting this to end, wanting this to go on forever.
“I want it to be good for you,” Damen said, picking up the rhythm as if against his own will, as if his body had had enough and spurred him forward.
“It is,” Laurent ground out, then in Veretian, “Make me come.”
Damen pulled away, leaving Laurent empty and bereft. But it lasted only a moment before Laurent was on his back, legs hitched over Damen’s arms, and he was back inside of Laurent, fucking him without subtelties or restraint. Laurent held on for it, open to receive it. This completeness he had only ever found with Damen. This wholeness that had no space for anyone else.
Damen wrapped his hand around Laurent’s cock, over Laurent’s hand, which had found its way inexorably there and, in time with his relentless pace, made Laurent come in pearl-colored jets, just as Damen cried out, emptying himself inside of Laurent.
Damen rested his weight on his arms, leaving his cock inside Laurent to soften and withdraw on its own. When they’d recovered, Damen found towels to clean them, tending to Laurent and letting Laurent tend to him in turn. Laurent felt the chill more acutely and shivered against Damen.
“This won’t do,” Damen said, pulling the duvet over them both. Laurent dropped his head on Damen’s chest, sleep so close, his head was swimming. Damen’s hand idly caressed his shoulder, After a moment, Damen's voice pulled him from the edge of sleep. “You know, I have to fight off a fair bit of interest in you as well.”
“I know. But she…"
Laurent could not speak further without revealing more and he'd already revealed too much.
"The fort will be built on her lands and her people will be in charge of supervising its construction," Damen said as if it were already a decree.
"As a reward for her good behavior?"
"To give her the sense of importance she clearly craves while keeping her on her side of the Kingdom for a very long time. She can bed the entire North as far as I am concerned."
Laurent glanced up from where he lay against Damen's chest. "And to keep her from pursuing you."
"To keep her from slighting you. Or do you think I would not destroy anyone who tried to hurt you?"
Laurent set his head down, unable to hold back a smile. "I believe you would."