[ a laugh nearly bubbles from his aching throat, an animal sound making an attempt to claw free. he has nothing to call his own here. he cannot even wrangle sasuke into submission. instead sasuke shows him mercy, and laurent only knows to react with the spark of anger that falls, landing into the deep well of his own humiliation. ]

It would be good if you didn't speak — [ he shifts, fingertips plucking at the soft threads of the sheets. ] About things you don't know anything about.

[ his uncle. him. laurent tips his bleary gaze toward sasuke and tries to hate him for being here. in his haze, he imagines sliding over this soft cloud and closing the space between them, to allow his hands to dance across firm muscle and smooth skin, to grip silken hair and draw the mouth that he knows to be both willing and hesitant toward him. it's a foolish, frightful dream. he doesn't know where it leads or what comes after.

instead he forces himself up, and he does close the distance, but it's to forcefully dig his hands into the flimsy fabric that sasuke wears now. he can feel the heat of his body through it as he presses his palms down against his chest, sliding his knee over his hip as if he means to straddle him. laurent's hair trails over his shoulders as he stares down at sasuke, his eyes pale and glassy. ]

The way you tried to kill me — [ one hand drags down his chest, nails sharp. ] You'll have to do it again. Not against me, someone would take your head off if you attacked the prince, but my uncle will want to see my pet get fucked in the ring and imagine it was me instead.

[ he drags a hand through sasuke's dark hair, pulling hard enough to tilt his chin upwards. laurent's mouth drops unsteady, grazing the corner of sasuke's lips. ] How weak have you gotten?