Title: Almost.
Prompt: Injury
Rating: (R)
Content Notes/Warnings: First Sex scene ever. Timeline is prior to Novels. I am very pleased with this piece, I haven't been so personally pleased with a piece of my own writing in a very long time.
Warnings: Mentions of Past Abuse and injuries, Sex scene.
Main Character/s: Drefan Robert Royale, Lawrence
Plot: Drefan can almost forget...almost.
Location: Lawrence’s farmstead in Royale
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Lawrence’s thumb brushed the choke-hold, the rope marks that encircled my throat and he said no worries, though with Lawrence this was a simple habit of his silence. I enjoyed the peace, the calm that came with him, and my chin dipped up toward the ceiling in my own silence giving him permission to touch as he willed. No one else had that trust, not yet, only Lawrence and Thom could brush my skin with bare fingertips causing gentle shivers down my spine. But it was Lawrence that could go further, and I opened my lips for him when he leaned in to kiss me with a gentleness that I had not known before I had first let this man in. Tenderness and gentleness were not simple words to me, they were somewhat of a mystery, one unraveled by the only friend I had, a farmer’s boy who had stood at my back during a bar brawl.
Not the way I would have thought to meet anyone that I could get this close to, but I know looking back and forward, you have to worm your way in. I’m not out to make friends, to allow people to see inside of me, and Lawrence fought at my back with fists, untrained but with upper body strength only a farmer would have. It was in itself a long road to this point, communication, touch, and trust, but it brought us to this and Lawrence leaned his weight against my body, enough that I could feel the heat of his chest. Dark brown eyes were intent on my face as we broke for breath, but I had always appreciated that with me, he did not try to hold eye contact. It was a norm in our culture to look the other in the eye at all times, but with the knowing of each other it seemed he could tell it was not something I would do during this.
( More Written Inside )A tanned hand slid up over the white cloth of my shirt, and the other tugged out from pants so it could touch skin causing me again to shiver. I did meet his eyes for a small time, my usual midnight blues lighter and his browns darker. A smile was the reply to my action and he leaned his forehead against my own, his black dreadlocks falling around his shoulders, laying partially over mine. This path had been taken more than a few times, nights of drinking to forget about the scars and hates, but those nights weren’t so gentle. At first I thought he let me do it because of my position but I had to remind myself back then that I had not told him I was prince, that I had wanted one man not to kiss my ass and shine my boots for nothing more than a penance. And in confusion I had to go off on my own to reconcile with how this man could trust me when he did not even know my name. I could never do such a thing, but I know I’m repressed, I know my childhood was damaging and that even with all the bravado there’s something seething inside.
He knows too. Lips brush my nose and then they move up, feathers over my furrowed brow and his hand moves from bare stomach to tangle in my blonde hair, dipping me forward so he could press a kiss to the top of my head. Never any words, for some reason with him they just weren’t needed, Lawrence was a man who did not waste his breath on un-needed frivolities. I had no need to put up the front, to wage the diplomatic war of words, and that took years off of me, allowing me to look into the mirror and realize that I was only sixteen.
Lawrence’s cheek rested against my forehead, an arm of mine looping about his waist and tucked as I was against the hollow of his throat, feeling the up and down of his Adam’s apple the words rose to a whisper.
“I’m not a virgin.”
There was no reaction, and my own Adam’s apple bobbed with sudden nerves and I knew that voice inside. I would not let that voice tell me I should not have spoke the words, that voice of cynicism and rage, a voice that wore my father’s face.
Time was too slow in seconds like these before he pulled away so his dark brown eyes looked back to my face, not right into my eyes but at my face.
“You spoke you had never had a relationship,” the words were not accusatory; they were confused, asking for relief and explanation.
“I haven’t...” I answered and I leaned my head back against the wall of his bedroom where he lived with his parents, no longer did I keep secret that I was royalty, he knew, and so did they.
“But I’m not a virgin.”
Eyes trailed back to the rope burns I left exposed by the position of my head and the line of my throat. Lawrence stayed silent again, starring at the marks with his intense gaze, and I shivered but this time not because of his touch. With my reaction he took up my hand with his own, eyes intent on the rope burns around my wrist that matched the throat. Turning my wrist he bent, dreads cascading about to cover his face again as he brought my hand the last distance to his lips. A kiss pressed against my knuckles, “We die too quick to live in the past,” the words breathed against skin, “We must make with what we can.”
Straightening his eyes found mine and continued speaking, “Then it is a matter of show, and of differences told. Re-learn, and push back the tides of your drowning.”
Lawrence never asked me how, why, when, where of the scars and my bitterness, he worshiped the inches of my skin as he walked me to his pallet. Every scar was examined with eyes and tasted with lips, but never was there words said. My shames and my frustrations were my own, and he understood this without even having to be told.
Settling down he pressed weight slowly onto me, and now I would meet his eyes, and I would keep the gaze, to tell myself of better things, of Lawrence and trust and nothing else. I held back the gasps that I could as his hand buried gently in my hair and he found a sensitive spot over left ribcage with his tongue and teeth. His desire was mimicking my own, and heated groans puffed past panting lungs as lower extremities contacted and ground. Extra time spent on those markings along my thighs and my hands gripped onto the pallet in my impatience, a growl pushed past my lips as he made me wait. Head up, tongue licking over his wet lips, I panted as Lawrence looked up at me, dark brown was so different from dark blue, and I made myself see the differences, not the similarities. His lips were coy at my impatience and it hit me hard again as it always had, Lawrence was fourteen. His body and his demeanor spoke of a man older then I, but that was how it happened in the fields of Royale, from the day you could walk you helped on the farm and you matured faster than the ilk of the upper-class. Brows furrowed down at him the smile grew and he dipped back and the Bastard! My voice nearly took a high pitched tone of puberty when his lips wrapped around my organ.
“Lawrence!”
He had never tried that before even when we were tossed by drink and it did not take long at all before I could think no further except on what he was doing. The pressure building into a ball in the pit of my stomach and his fingers taking sacks into hand was the last straw and I tugged two dreads trying to give some form of warning. Drawing back I let go and the orgasm shook through me as he lay by my side watching me as my eyes clenched shut. Fingers ran through my disheveled hair and my eyes opened to him, a brow going up at him as he still was as hard as ever.
Lawrence sat up on one elbow looking into my face and a thumb brushed my cheek, “I will show you differences,” and he moved to press against me again, weight settling between my spread legs.
It wasn’t easy finding something we could use to ease the way but he had kept the bottle of massage oil I had brought last time for this and it served for our purpose. I clenched him to me with an arm as he pressed into me, the other hand grasping at the pallet so I could call off my own defensive reactions to the searing burn. Kisses were pressed over my shoulders and one to my Adam’s apple, pants and shoulders rose and fell as Lawrence stayed still for me, the burning beginning to ease away. Growing hard again against his stomach he took it as the silent queue to begin to move and I fell back against the pallet, starring up at him.
Past words slither through my conscious, “There is no love found between two men, no love between two women, only carnal desire...” What the fuck would Robert know? Father’s a sick bastard who gets off on kinks and power trips, how the hell would he know about love? Even if this isn’t love, I don’t need it, Lawrence is my friend and that’s enough for me.
“Drefan,” Lawrence shuddered against chest as the heat had increased so that we were sweating and sliding against each other, my fingers digging into his black dreadlocks. My name on his lips, fuck love, this, this was enough for me.
And noises rose higher before they died, clutching each other, Lawrence resting most of his weight on me to get himself back from post orgasmic bless. He didn’t move still and I found I didn’t really mind, his fingers sliding through my hair as I felt the coarseness of his own. Watching the rise and fall of his shoulders and back against me, I grinned pressing a kiss to a sweaty tanned shoulder.
“That was nearly as good as going to the opium dens,” there was near laughter in my voice that never saw the light of day anywhere else but here.
A hard chuckle against me he looked up to me, “Almost.”
I rubbed his back with my palm and shrugged, starring up at the thatched ceiling wondering if it was worth the risk coming home smelling of Lawrence. I would do it to just get the prick in my face, to let him know again and again that he could do whatever the fuck he could get away with but I’m not his. But it wasn’t worth the risk for Lawrence’s sake, but I did want to go home smelling of another man just to piss Father off to high heaven, “I’m going mad,” I whispered to no-one in particular.
“But I knew it would happen,” I continued, the words rang with emotion, bitterness and sadness, and Lawrence kissed my brow again holding my face in his hands.
“I will pray to Nanqa every night, I will pray that he will look out for you, you who are of his bloodline. I am certain our Lord would help in any way he can.”
Giving Lawrence a quick but deep kiss, “I know, he does what he can,” and lay my head back down.
“Stay?” Lawrence’s head on my chest, I closed my eyes, “Yes.”
I’m going mad, I knew it would happen, slow and steady, the pieces chip, pieces fall and my mind builds up fortifications. Is it worth the risk to Lawrence to be his friend? Were both going to get burned, but if I were to walk away right now the prick would win, and I won’t let Father win, Lawrence is strong, he’ll handle himself. To have nights like this filled with passion, to drink and laugh, to fall asleep beside each other high and feeling no pain from the opium. I’m going mad and I just don’t care, I’ll live in the moment as they come, love or no, it doesn’t matter. Protect Thom, protect my people, fight that prick at any turn, I’ll make it worth it all in the end. In the end.
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