[Without the veil of the Shadow, it feels as though he is seeing Laurent for the first time, freshly bare in light of all that has happened and become known. Sasuke is less prepared for it than he expects. Laces and fabric fall like so much burdensome weight, tossed to the marble to join his own clothes, and those slim legs fold over the rim of the pool to bring Laurent into the water, as elegantly placed as a porcelain doll. Hair like a sheet of gold, eyes vivid blue, there's a sharp-edged masculinity to Laurent's figure that is arresting.
His own nudity aside, he has never been joined by another — could never have imagined it would be someone like this, where the word beautiful seems to pale in comparison. He is awake enough to realize it now. It has taken weeks of denial in his attraction to Naruto, unforgivably real and goaded by every encounter between them, by the voice in his own mind, by Naruto's abrupt absence, by sickness. And always Laurent's crude, cutting tongue.
Rather than timidity, he drifts reflexively back from Laurent's entrance into the reflection pool because of a jolt of awe, swallowing hard. There are lines not to cross.]
I won't touch you. [Solemnly vowed.] You didn't need to join me. [Quieter, his words are touched by a tone of incredulity as if he can't fathom that Laurent has done this, even if peace from maddening thoughts is as good a reason as any.]
I'll begin. Try to remain focused on me.
[He holds Laurent's gaze, cannot seem to look away from it — in this context, perhaps the most intimacy he's shared with another person that was not violence — and activates the Sharingan's inner ability. The effect is immediate; he can put the memory into Laurent's mind without struggle, no barriers in place to protect against the surge of chakra because Laurent has never lived in a world where it was necessary. The memory will be witnessed as it happened — but this time, for Laurent, it is the wrong point of view. He will see himself in the snow, fragile and bitter, protecting himself with savagery; he will see the pain being inflicted upon his own body, will feel Sasuke's immense power and bloodlust as it's done; he will hear the words he'd uttered in that broken, mindless state of derangement. Prince-killer. Uncle.Brother. I hate you, I miss you. Then Laurent will see himself crumple, and the deep quiet after, until he's scooped from the snow and carried back to the tent unmolested.
Something goes wrong after that.
It should be the end, but instead the scene completely changes, incomprehension surging as one of Laurent's own memories is pulled from the magic of the water bathing their skin.]
no subject
His own nudity aside, he has never been joined by another — could never have imagined it would be someone like this, where the word beautiful seems to pale in comparison. He is awake enough to realize it now. It has taken weeks of denial in his attraction to Naruto, unforgivably real and goaded by every encounter between them, by the voice in his own mind, by Naruto's abrupt absence, by sickness. And always Laurent's crude, cutting tongue.
Rather than timidity, he drifts reflexively back from Laurent's entrance into the reflection pool because of a jolt of awe, swallowing hard. There are lines not to cross.]
I won't touch you. [Solemnly vowed.] You didn't need to join me. [Quieter, his words are touched by a tone of incredulity as if he can't fathom that Laurent has done this, even if peace from maddening thoughts is as good a reason as any.]
I'll begin. Try to remain focused on me.
[He holds Laurent's gaze, cannot seem to look away from it — in this context, perhaps the most intimacy he's shared with another person that was not violence — and activates the Sharingan's inner ability. The effect is immediate; he can put the memory into Laurent's mind without struggle, no barriers in place to protect against the surge of chakra because Laurent has never lived in a world where it was necessary. The memory will be witnessed as it happened — but this time, for Laurent, it is the wrong point of view. He will see himself in the snow, fragile and bitter, protecting himself with savagery; he will see the pain being inflicted upon his own body, will feel Sasuke's immense power and bloodlust as it's done; he will hear the words he'd uttered in that broken, mindless state of derangement. Prince-killer. Uncle. Brother. I hate you, I miss you. Then Laurent will see himself crumple, and the deep quiet after, until he's scooped from the snow and carried back to the tent unmolested.
Something goes wrong after that.
It should be the end, but instead the scene completely changes, incomprehension surging as one of Laurent's own memories is pulled from the magic of the water bathing their skin.]
Laurent— [A half-choked warning.]