[ it shouldn't come as a surprise, and yet for a wound as gruesome as that — it does. he tries to imagine the violence that must have transpired between them, somehow diverging into a bond so deep he can't understand it. there's that pull he always gets — auguste, damen, the unforgivable blood spilled, a force of nature chained like a lion beside him — then an uncomfortable tightening in his throat at how sasuke feels the very same, like an untamed creature that needs a leash. laurent looks down at him, unmoving, as sasuke wades closer. ]
It's unsightly. [ the red is a shade off from the richness of akielon royalty. it's the regent's color. he doesn't know if the sudden heat that fills him is from this knowledge or because of the casual way that sasuke commands him.
laurent doesn't move, imagining his booted foot grinding into the soft flesh of sasuke's face. after a weighted moment, he flicks the back of the cloak out of the way and crouches, one pale hand reaching out to ghost his fingers along the line of sasuke's jaw, lifting his chin so that his sharingan catches the light, a bloody gem. ]
You take liberties. [ a soft murmur. laurent's face has only the shadow of bruising along the sharp line of his cheekbone, otherwise fine-boned and elegant like a prince from the pages of a weathered storybook. his thumb travels along sasuke's cheek, stroking tenderly beneath his red eye in rapt examination, his fingers cool and soft.
he removes his hand quickly, one fingernail sharply nicking at sasuke's cheekbone. the thinnest line of red appears, slowly welling with a drop of blood. laurent sets his wrist primly on his knee, his hand somehow clean. ] How clumsy of me. You look so much like a slave I thought you might want to play the part.
[ he unclasps the golden pin, letting the cloak slide from his shoulders. his white shirt and pale skin seem to glow beneath the moonlight, his hair like threads of yellow gold. setting the clasp down atop the fallen cloak, he holds a hand out, wrist up, to reveal a complicated line of tight laces. ] Attend me. Then you can share your memory.
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It's unsightly. [ the red is a shade off from the richness of akielon royalty. it's the regent's color. he doesn't know if the sudden heat that fills him is from this knowledge or because of the casual way that sasuke commands him.
laurent doesn't move, imagining his booted foot grinding into the soft flesh of sasuke's face. after a weighted moment, he flicks the back of the cloak out of the way and crouches, one pale hand reaching out to ghost his fingers along the line of sasuke's jaw, lifting his chin so that his sharingan catches the light, a bloody gem. ]
You take liberties. [ a soft murmur. laurent's face has only the shadow of bruising along the sharp line of his cheekbone, otherwise fine-boned and elegant like a prince from the pages of a weathered storybook. his thumb travels along sasuke's cheek, stroking tenderly beneath his red eye in rapt examination, his fingers cool and soft.
he removes his hand quickly, one fingernail sharply nicking at sasuke's cheekbone. the thinnest line of red appears, slowly welling with a drop of blood. laurent sets his wrist primly on his knee, his hand somehow clean. ] How clumsy of me. You look so much like a slave I thought you might want to play the part.
[ he unclasps the golden pin, letting the cloak slide from his shoulders. his white shirt and pale skin seem to glow beneath the moonlight, his hair like threads of yellow gold. setting the clasp down atop the fallen cloak, he holds a hand out, wrist up, to reveal a complicated line of tight laces. ] Attend me. Then you can share your memory.