No Rush (Damen/Laurent, NC-17)
I wanted to write some filth and then this 13k beast happened. Sorry not sorry.
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Laurent is eleven when he’s introduced by his brother to Prince Damianos. Auguste keeps a hand atop Laurent’s shoulder, as though presenting him to the council, and Damianos smiles at him as though he’s to be tolerated. Laurent despises him. He hates his gaudy foreign clothes, the way he has no shame about showing so much skin. But, nevertheless, he dips his head—a greeting befitting a prince—and blinks at him in disdain—also befitting a prince.
“A pleasure,” Damianos tells him in smooth Veretian.
“Likewise,” Laurent lies and he feels Auguste’s grip tighten on his shoulder.
His brother knows him too well.
“Go tell the stables to ready the horses,” Auguste says and Laurent shoots him a murderous look.
“Tell them yourself,” Laurent replies, “as you are so fond of them.”
Auguste has the audacity to laugh, to clap him on the back and send him forward one stumbling step.
“My brother jokes,” Auguste tells Damianos. “Come, let me show you the grounds.”
Laurent watches them go and is glad of it.
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