The explanation from Laurent's lips is cold, unfeeling, precise. He describes ownership of a chair as if it is some reasonable equivalent to a person. Here, it must be. His freedom and will are being demanded. Refusal rises in his throat, a bitter burn, as dark eyes drift to the garment pooled on the floor in a sheer, silky puddle.
He is without power in this strange new place, and Laurent is all that is seemingly between him and worse fates than slavery.]
Is that something you want to do? [The question lifts from his mouth, glass-edged, as he moves off the bed like a reluctant animal toward a leash. He does not look at Laurent as he asks this.] Protect me?
[He cannot make a promise this is a game he can play, in pleasure or entertainment, as a 'pet' in a political landscape he knows nothing about, but he does understand what necessitates survival. Even if it puts trust in the tender hands of a man who might kill him anyway.
Sasuke turns his back to strip from the plain clothes he is wearing, immodest. It isn't the first time Laurent has seen his body — though not since the fountain on that marble balcony, since his own attraction had nearly strangled him senseless. His body is unchanged but for the addition of the restored limb, carved with muscle and the silent story of scars. The tunic goes on over his head, hanging softly around his upper thighs, leaving little to imagination. He shows no outward embarrassment, but — he is standing stiffly, awkwardly.]
It would help to know what to expect. You haven't been forthcoming about Vere.
no subject
The explanation from Laurent's lips is cold, unfeeling, precise. He describes ownership of a chair as if it is some reasonable equivalent to a person. Here, it must be. His freedom and will are being demanded. Refusal rises in his throat, a bitter burn, as dark eyes drift to the garment pooled on the floor in a sheer, silky puddle.
He is without power in this strange new place, and Laurent is all that is seemingly between him and worse fates than slavery.]
Is that something you want to do? [The question lifts from his mouth, glass-edged, as he moves off the bed like a reluctant animal toward a leash. He does not look at Laurent as he asks this.] Protect me?
[He cannot make a promise this is a game he can play, in pleasure or entertainment, as a 'pet' in a political landscape he knows nothing about, but he does understand what necessitates survival. Even if it puts trust in the tender hands of a man who might kill him anyway.
Sasuke turns his back to strip from the plain clothes he is wearing, immodest. It isn't the first time Laurent has seen his body — though not since the fountain on that marble balcony, since his own attraction had nearly strangled him senseless. His body is unchanged but for the addition of the restored limb, carved with muscle and the silent story of scars. The tunic goes on over his head, hanging softly around his upper thighs, leaving little to imagination. He shows no outward embarrassment, but — he is standing stiffly, awkwardly.]
It would help to know what to expect. You haven't been forthcoming about Vere.