Super quick Lamen comfort fic for @mxlfoydraco who is Suffering ™ with school things, and hopefully this little drabble makes things feel a little easier. ILYSM!
“Enough.” The voice speaks, easy and quiet against the back of his ear, warm hands lifting him from the desk where he’s been sat hours–maybe days, who knows.
There’s just too much to finish, too many holes to fill, too many preemptive strikes to make to ensure nothing happens to him–to them. To their kingdom, which they’ve worked too long and too hard to keep.
Laurent knows he should argue, should push back, but it’s impossible when Damen’s massive arms encircle him, drawing him back against a large, broad, almost naked chest. Through his own clothes, Laurent can feel the warmth seep into him, almost renewing him in a way that he can’t quite explain, but he knows by now he doesn’t ever want to live without.
Warm lips find the exposed sliver of skin just above his high collar, and they rest there, breathing him in. “You can’t piece together our countries in a single night. You need rest, or what good will you be to anyone.”
“To you, you mean,” Laurent snarks, but it’s without venom.
Damen knows this, laughs as he turns Laurent in his arms. His hands, so massive one palm covers nearly all of Laurent’s cheek, move to his face and they cup it tenderly. “I am not such a prideful man that I cannot admit I need you.”
Even after all this time, amidst all the promises they’ve made, amidst all the sacifices they’ve given for each other, for this, Damen’s honesty still makes his knees weak. “I could last another hour or two,” he says, still pushing.
Damen smiles enough his dimple shows, and Laurent wants to push his finger into it, though he refrains. “Yes, my love,” and the term of endearment hits him right in the gut, “I am aware of what you can do. But you’ve sorely neglected your own needs.”
And then Damen takes over. Then he bosses Laurent into their bedchambers, into night clothes, under the sheets of their impossibly soft bed. It’s another shock that Damen tries nothing more than to curl Laurent against him, to hold him, to try and sieve his stress from his body by touch alone.
He asks for no more than Laurent is willing to give, and sometimes Laurent is afraid to let himself believe that Damen wants these simple, quiet moments. That he is content with holding him just as he is with making love to him. But there is no pressure for anything other than this, no request for more.
Just a moment which allows Laurent to relax, to let the rest of their fragile world exist outside his periphery. Just a moment to remind himself this, this is what he fought for, this was what he was willing to let himself have. In the end.
A Kingdom and This, as The Regent and as Kastor’s bodies rot.
He supposes there should be a part of him which feels guilty for the lives lost, but he can’t. He’s not a better man than this, and he’s learnt to live with it.
He turns his head slightly, seeking a kiss. One finds him, Damen’s lips pliant, soft, undemanding. Damen’s hand brushes along his nape, into his hair, curling itself in the locks as he keeps Laurent close to him.
Laurent scoffs, but he lets himself fall against Damen’s chest. Lets the gentle, steady, sure thrum of Damen’s heart guide him into sleep. The rest of the world, at least for now, can wait.