Little fox

Laurent didn't even look up when Damianos entered the garden. When Damianos sat down on the cushions on the floor and leaned on the slave's knees, Laurent finally deigned to pay attention to him and sighed. “If anyone sees you in this state, I’ll be executed,” Laurent said simply, without a trace of fear, and returned to reading the letter he had been reading before Damianos arrived. Damianos was terribly curious about what kind of letters a slave might have, but the trust that had developed between them was more valuable than fleeting curiosity. “Then it's good that it's just us here.” Damianos felt like an annoying puppy when he rubbed his cheek against Laurent's knee, but Laurent finally put his hand on his hair, then slid his fingers down his neck.

Laurent tugged lightly on the dark curls, but the prince showed no sign of displeasure. Laurent tugged harder and Damianos murmured, pressing closer with one arm embracing Laurent's legs and his chin resting on the softness of his thigh. Damen slid his fingers under the straps of his sandals, and Laurent, shuddering with his whole body, was about to do something that no slave could ever think of doing. As if reading his thoughts, Damianos laughed.

“What are you, Laurent?” Damen ran his forefinger down the slave’s knee, moving higher, but some ancient instinct, perhaps self-preservation, kept him from reaching under the other man’s chiton.

“I beg your pardon?” Laurent put down the letter, finally looking at Damen directly.

“You're the only person who can be so casual about having a prince sitting at your feet.”

“Perhaps you've seen too few people.”

Damianos snorted.

“Perhaps you are a nymph sent to drive me mad?” Laurent rolled his eyes. “Or a deity sent to destroy my kingdom?”

“If I wanted to destroy something, I would have done it already.”

“Or,” Damen persisted. He reached for the bowl of grapes and plucked a few berries. “At the very least, you've captured my heart.”

He stood up, braced his knee against the edge of the sofa, and leaned over Laurent. He held a grape to his lips, unsure if he would accept it.

“A prince should not feed a slave,” Laurent reminded him coolly, leaning back against the pillows as if wanting to distance himself. Damen leaned closer.

“Formally, you were given as a pet. In Vere, masters feed their pets, don’t they?”

“There are no pets in Akielos, my prince."

Damien's expression must have been pitiful enough, because Laurent sighed and parted his lips. Those soft, inviting lips, which he had only been able to touch a few times in the past two months.

Laurent took the berry and bit into it, the juice rolling down his chin. Damianos carefully wiped it away with his fingertips so that the stickiness wouldn't settle on his skin.

‘May I kiss you?’ Damen held his breath, waiting for an answer. Laurent's eyes sparkled, not allowing him to look away.

Laurent swallowed the berry and closed his eyes, his lips remaining slightly parted. Those sweet, sweet lips that Damen would kiss until the end of time if he had the chance. He touched them with his own, licking away the remaining traces of grape juice, caught his lower lip with his teeth, and ran his tongue over it, apologizing for his little mischief. Laurent buried his fingers in his hair, and Damen felt very blissed.

Laurent felt himself falling apart. In those strong arms that held him, in those tender, naive words that contained no lies. Laurent reached back to grab the letter and clenched it in his fingers, crumpling the paper, and collapsed onto the pillows, allowing Damianos's weight to press him down.