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Hello everyone! Happy start of 2018 to you all!!
We’re just waiting for one more gift that has unfortunately been delayed, but we hope it’s uploaded very very soon. Once it is, we will immediately release the full masterlist of gifts with their corresponding creators and recipients.
Thank you for your patience!
Through the mist
It has taken me ages, and many, many hours, but here is your gift, #38, for the @capri-secretsanta!
I hope you’ll enjoy it despite my very ehm personal take on the prompts. And about that, none of this would have been possible hadn't it been for @helaris Who took this story, and turned it on its head with her incredible imagination.
A smutty epilogue will follow, because I realized I bit off more than I could chew with the worldbuilding, and it just didn’t fit all in! All the same, I hope you enjoy it, and I wish you happy holidays and a wonderful 2018.
November
The first time Damen saw it, he thought it was an illusion. A fancy brought on by the fog that clung to his skin and snuck down his throat, not letting him breathe. That must be it, he’d thought.
He’d walked hundreds of times down this alley, and he was pretty sure he knew it by now.
It’s the kind of place only someone like Damen could walk at night. With only a few street lamps here and there, shop-less, without any habitations, it looked more like a black hole than a street.
Still, it was the fastest way to get to his place from work. And even though both Jokaste and Nikandros had agreed that it constantly felt like someone was watching you, Damen had never met a single soul here.
It wasn’t exactly the best place to set up shop though.
But there, in darkest, most secluded part of the narrow street, was a door. A glass door, with a white frame. Light spilled out of it, diffusing to nothing in the mist, never quite reaching the floor.
For a moment, Damen stood there. Then he got closer to it. When trying to peer inside showed him nothing but light, he went for the round brass doorknob. It was covered in ice, the thin needles prickling his skin. When Damen turned it, it gave, the door opened, and Damen stepped in.
The door shut on its own behind him the second both his feet were inside. Damen hardly noticed.
Despite the light spilling outside, the lighting of the room was feeble. Shelves lined the walls on either side. On each of them, glass jars were filled with what looked to be dry flowers, herbs and powders, the colors of which Damen couldn’t make out in the penumbra. Despite the corks closing them, the contents of the jars filled the air with a sharp and spicy smell of cinnamon. Damen took a step forward, and the smell changed, molding itself in a fruity fragrance that reminded him of the red berries tea his mother drank.
The room was longer than it was large. Little cages in which plants were growing, their branches overflowing out of the lit bars, hung from the ceiling. It was the ceiling itself that left Damen breathless. Or rather, the lack of it. Where the ceiling should have been, Damen could see only the dark, ink-black night, and the stars sparkling within it, as purple clouds passed by
A noise drew his attention back to the rest of the place. The ringing of a pendulum. It came from the wall farthest away from Damen. On it, there were at least ten different clocks. It was too dark to read the hours on them. In front of the wall, at the very end of the room, was a counter. Some steps before it, a blackboard, like those you find outside of bars, of cafes. On it, written in white, was a message:
“Hi” It read “ I’m Auguste, and this is my shop.
I don’t know what you’re looking for. I don’t know if it is for you to take a breather, determination, the love of your life.
I don’t know what you need, but the shop does.
In fact, if the shop has found you - that’s likely the reason.
What you need will appear on the counter. You can take it, it’s yours!
I sincerely hope you find what you need. Just keep in mind, that what you want and what you need, are not always the same thing.
Good luck!
Auguste”
“Excuse me?” Damen said. “ Auguste, sir?”
But no-one answered, so Damen went further into the shop, every-one of his steps echoing despite his wearing sneakers.
“Is anybody here?”
Again, no-one answered. So Damen kept walking until he was standing in front of the counter.
At first, he only noticed what was on it. A glass-vial, similar to the others that were on the shelves. It contained a purplish liquid. Hanging from the neck of the vial was a white tag:
“I know what you need.” It read.
For a moment, Damen hesitated. Once again, he lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “What is this place?” he asked out-loud.
“ One day a person smart enough to read that thing and understand it will walk through that door. That day isn’t today.”
“Pardon?” Damen said.
“Pardon?” the voice mimicked.
“Is anyone here?
“Is anyone here?” the voice mimicked again.
This time, the vial slid backwards on the surface. Damen followed it with his eyes and only when it stopped moving, did he see the hand that had gripped the tag and pulled it backwards.
Up until that moment, Dament hadn’t noticed the man sitting behind the counter before:
The man was slender. He was leaning backwards in his chair, his legs crossed. With one hand, he was toying with the tag of the vial, while the other kept drumming on the surface of the counter. His cool blue eyes stared straight into Damen’s. They stayed like that for a second, both immobile. Then, simultaneously, they snapped out of it. But while the man only narrowed his eyes, Damen asked: “ Excuse me, are you Auguste?”
The man’s eyes went wide. Damen kept on talking. “ You mustn’t have a lot of customers if that’s how you talk to them.”
The man shot up, and leaned over the counter, pressing his palms on it’s surface and bracing his weight that way. His face started getting closer and closer to Damen’s. “ You can see me?” the man managed to ask in a tone that was both incredulous and held also a hint of scorn in it.
He lifted one hand slowly, then moved it close to Damen’s face and then snapped his fingers right in front of his eyes. Then he moved the hand away again.
“Shouldn’t I?”
The man kept moving the hand, observing, Damen supposed, if his eyes were tracking the movement. The man exhaled, and let his hand fall back on the counter.
“That’s novel.” He said. “ It had never happened to me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Damen said, shifting in his place, not daring to move. “Are you Auguste?” he asked again.
The man shook his head, but didn’t volunteer any more information. Then he took a step back,
“Who are you, then?”
“I own this place. That, technically, would make me the owner.”
“So you’re not Auguste,” Damen repeated.
“No” the man shook his head “You may call me Owner, or Not-Auguste, or Owner Not-Auguste. Whichever puts your mind at ease. Shop-keeper is fine, too. I’d go for shop-keeper if you were to ask me. It has that-” the man rubbed the tips of his finger together, almost like he had forgotten a word and was trying to pull it out of thin air. “-That ring to it. Drives the message home on what my role in this place is.”
“No, you’re certainly not Auguste, Mr. Shop-keeper. He seems to be a much nicer fellow.”
The man’s shoulders went rigid and the corners of his lips twitched.
“We can at least agree on this one.”
Damen was expecting for the man to add something, but he didn’t. So, Damen asked:
“And do you have a name, Mr. Shop-keeper?”
“Laurent.”
Damen had nodded. When Laurent didn’t add anything, Damen said: “I’m Damen. What is this place?”
Laurent shrugged, as if his question had been trivial:
“Since we’ve established that I’m a shop-keeper, that would make this a shop. That’s not the real question here. Rather; the question is: why can you see me, or hear me?”
Damen opened his mouth to answer, but Laurent waved a hand in front of his face as if to shake away an unbidden thought. “Nevermind , ” he picked the vial up by the tag and handed it to him. “ That’s why you’re here.”
Damen had kept on toying with the small vial all the way home. He kept upending it, watching the liquid make his way from one side to the other, before he turned it again and everything went back to the way it’d been.
Laurent had promised that whatever he needed, that tiny vial would give it to him.
Damen didn’t know if he believed it himself, but when he’d left the shop, he’d turned around, and the door had been gone. If it vouched for or against the liquid’s effects, Damen didn’t know. Nor did he know what he might have needed. He knew he wanted a lot of things:
To be able to cross that door and feel at home. To leave his jacket on the coat-hanger and not feel like he’d be picking it up in a few hours anyway to leave.
To quit feeling like a guest in his house, to be able to pull out those pictures they’d taken at the beach last summer. In them, he and Jokaste and Nikandros and Kastor, his brother, were laughing, half sprawled on the sand. Damen was leaning backwards. Jokaste was sitting in his lap and Nikandros and Kastor were leaning on them. He’d often tried to take them out of that box, the cardboard of which had gotten wavy from catching rain. But every time he saw his brother’s arm on Jokaste’s shoulder he wondered if they’d already been together, then. His stomach would churn as soon as his fingers opened the flaps of the box, and he wouldn’t manage more than to reach for the frames of those pictures, despite them being turned, their smiling faces facing the bottom of the box,
And although he’d tried to talk himself into throwing the vial away, in the end he’d settled for pocketing it, his every movement through the kitchen accompanied by the clinging of glass against the fake metal button on the inside of his pocket. It sounded nothing like the way his family ring did against the wine bottle when he took it out of the cabinet, or the way the wine glass sounded when he propped it on the crystal surface of the coffee table before letting himself fall on the couch. It was a lighter sound. Like the softest meowing, the sound of a string of honey swinging from left to right.
“You shouldn’t drink it.” A voice in his ear said. “ You’re too trusting. It could be poison, what then?”
It could. But the Shop-Keeper, Laurent, hadn’t struck him as evil. Pissed off, maybe. Irritated. All around unpleasant. Mostly lonely.
“You trust a pretty face too easily. What if I’d turned out to be different?” The voice repeated in his ear, low and persuasive. This time, he recognized it as Jokaste’s. An afterimage of a memory long gone.
For a moment, he stared at the now empty wine bottle, then his attention shifted to the glass which still held droplets in it.
He took a deep breath, then pulled the vial out of his pocket.
“What I really need” he thought, touching the brim of it to his lips, “is to move on.”
He kicked his head back, and the liquid went down his throat.
Damen hadn’t know what to expect.
The first day after drinking the potion - what is a potion? Was it a liquid ? It had tasted faintly like grapes, but that might just have been the wine he’d drunken prior- he’d walked around with the giddiness of the person who knows a surprise is waiting for him, but didn’t know what it was going to be.
He’d gone through his chores at the restaurant with an odd concentration he’d never felt before, waiting for something to change. But nothing did.
He almost took the alley, that evening, then chose to avoid it. First, he’d see how this thing turned out.
The second day, he faced without hope, but with the expectation that eventually, something out of the ordinary would happen.
But a week came and went. On the coldest day in the year, while Damen was crossing the street, he glimpsed in the corner of his eyes someone with the same build and the same hair as him. He jerked around.
It wasn’t Kastor just someone who looked a lot like him, but for the briefest instant Damen had thought he was. And in that second, a pang had gone through his chest, knocking the air out of him, leaving him standing in the middle of the pedestrian crossing, as people passed him on every side. That was the moment Damen knew, whatever that thing was, it hadn’t done anything for him.
That evening, he went looking for the shop. Unsurprisingly, the shop was gone.
He saw the door for the second time as he was walking home. It was exactly where it’d been the previous time, tucked into the wall, pouring light on the frozen concrete.
All around it, the air was still. In the week since it’d appeared the first time, kids had spray-painted a green and yellow tree of life onto the wall, and now it looked as if it was the door itself it grew out of.
Damen reached for the doorknob. It was as cold as it’d been the previous time. Then he turned it, and let himself in.
The shop was more of less the way he remembered it.
The starry non-ceiling was the same, and there were still the cages with the lit bars lighting up the penumbra. It seemed like Laurent had added a series of globes at the feet of the counter, which Damen hadn’t noticed the time before.
Laurent himself, hadn’t changed at all though. He was standing in front of the counter, leaning against it, with his arms crossed and was looking at him with his brows furrowed.
“What are you doing here?” he asked him. Damen shrugged. “You tell me. You’re the one that has this- he waved his hand in front of him in a motion that was meant to encompass the whole of the shop. - thing. And also the one who sold me- although it’s true I didn’t pay for it - that potion. So I guess I shouldn’t be complaining but here I am, because it didn’t do anything.”
Laurent didn’t move, just stared at him. “I believe I haven’t heard you right.”
“How are these things supposed to work?” Damen asked. “Like, are you supposed to feel better right away or-?”
“It depends- The store gives you the means. That’s how Auguste thought it out. If the means to get what you need for you to feel better right away, that’s how you’ll feel.”
Damen snorted. “Well, I can’t be entirely sure it isn’t working, but I’m quite certain it isn’t.”
“That’s not possible,” Laurent said with certainty. “It’s never failed before. That’s not how Auguste thought this out.”
“Listen- as he said so, Laurent brought a hand to his lips in thought. Damen hadn’t noticed the previous time, but they were plump and looked really soft. Quite lovely.
In fact, now that Damen could take a closer look, all of Laurent was quite lovely. From his long legs, to his high cheekbones, to his lean body, back to those lips.
“What’s the point “ Lauren’t s cool voice broke his train of thought “ of starting a sentence with listen, if you’re not going to.” He paused. “Maybe, next time, I’ll start it with ogle. That way it’ll be easier for you to comply, I take it.”
Damen didn’t blush, and neither did he this time. But he grinned, and did his equivalent, which was laughing. “I’m sorry” he said. “I really, really am sorry. It’s just- he cut off for a second - it’s just you’re really quite lovely. I apologize, though. That was rather rude of me.”
Instead of replying, Laurent rolled his eyes, dismissing the compliment with a wave of his hand.
“Let’s say you’re telling the truth” he said, would you be willing to give it another try?”
Damen paused a second. “ Say this works, would it give me what I need?”
“Yes.” Laurent replied. “ It would.”
“Then I’m game.” Damen said.
“You are?” Laurent raised a brow. “ It could take a lot of time, you know? I’ve- something like this has never happened before.”
Damen shrugged. “I don’t mind. If it’ll help me, then I really don’t mind.”
“Suit yourself.” Laurent said, then headed for a cabinet underneath one of the clocks on the wall. Damen hadn’t noticed it before, but there were lots of things he hadn’t noticed before it seemed in this shop. The stars twinkling on Laurent’s suit were one of them.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Now he needs permission. You didn’t need it to undress me with your eyes, I hardly see why you would need it now.”
Again, Damen didn’t blush.
“You seemed rather certain the shop couldn’t be wrong before. Why did you choose to believe me?”
Laurent stopped in his movements, ceasing what he was doing for just the tiniest amount of time. His shoulders stiffened, then relaxed. Then he answered.
“You found the shop again. It doesn’t let itself be found by those who don’t have a need.”
December-January
And so it began. Almost on a weekly basis, Damen would stop at the shop. Every time, he would notice something new about it. Be it the astrolabes that lined the walls, just above the shelves, or the puddle of whatever on the floor. He’d crouched down to stare at it. It looked bottomless, mist rising from it, filling the air with different scents he’d never smelt before.
He’d looked up from that one to see Laurent through the mist, elegantly crouched next to the puddle. He was playing with the liquid, letting his hand disappear just beneath the surface, only to pull it out covered in a metallic sheen that looked like quicksilver.
“Don’t lean forward,” he’d warned Damen, “You might fall in. ”His blue eyes had shined like diamonds through the mist.
February
Every time, Laurent would rustle in the same cabinet and bring out new potions for him to try. Had they been poison, Damen thought, he’d be certainly dead by now. So, he went along with it.
At first, he’d felt more and more defeated every time the door appeared again. Lately, though, he was looking forward to his visits to the shop.
Laurent, on the other hand, was getting increasingly more frustrated every time Damen came back. Somewhere along the way had given up wearing always the same suit, ditching the jacket and the pants, and only keeping the shirt which he exchanged from time to time with dark-blue or black turtlenecks. Those were good days.
Today was one of those days, which led to Damen subtly admiring the way the turtleneck clung to Laurent’s chest, as the man kept pacing down the aisle of the shop, a cup of steaming tea in his hands. He was avoiding the weird things on the floor without even looking.
“I’ve tried everything with you. Everything. I’ve given you what the shop gave me for you, I’ve given you what I thought would help you. And still you keep coming back.”
“ Why do you mind so much?” Damen said, snatching a cookie from the plate that was sitting on the table.
“Don’t you enjoy my company? I actually look forward to yours, you know.”
If looks could kill, Damen would be dead by now. But as they couldn’t - not even in such a weird place - he kept on munching on his cookies.
“ I think” Damen said. “ I think it is getting better, if it makes you feel any better. So it’s not as if it’s completely useless, right?”
Laurent groaned, then threw his hot tea back. Damen was starting to get mildly worried about him.
It lasted just until Laurent cuffed him on the back of his head.
“I’ve done all the research I could. I’ve gone through all of Auguste books, and I haven’t found anything. My place is a mess now, and it’s still not working.”
“Wait- Damen asked – you have a place?”
Laurent didn’t say anything. Just threw back some more tea.
“I- I don’t really know anything about you.” Damen realized.
“That’s how it’s gotta be.”
“ Why?”
“Because once we figure out how to help you, the shop will start moving again.”
Damen never considered that.
“Can it go anywhere? How does it pick who to help?”
Laurent stopped pacing. “I don’t know. It used to be my brother’s, he’s invented it. He made the rules. He-” Laurent had started going through a series of white trunks on the floor “ -He created it for me, back when my parents passed away. At some point I didn’t need it anymore and he changed the settings of it and I don’t know-” he stopped, as his voice had gotten thinner and thinner the more he’d said.
“Is Auguste your brother?”
And Laurent stopped in his movement altogether. “ Yes,” came his answer. “ He is.” Then “He was.” Then again, this time in a more controlled voice “He is.”
Laurent stayed crouched like that. His hands not rummaging anymore, not talking, not speaking. Only rigid. So Damen stood up, went to him and offered him a hand.
“Sir Shop-Keeper” he said. Laurent stared at the hand for a moment, then put his now-empty tea-cup on it and stood up.
“ That’s not what the hand was mean for, you know.”
“ Really? I’m sorry, I must have not realized it.”
Laurent didn’t look his way as he said it, but he smirked. And that made Damen laugh. It wasn’t one of his nervous laughs, nor one of those full-belly, to the tears laugh, but it was a spontaneous laugh nonetheless- it’d been a long time since he’d had a genuine laugh. How long he couldn’t remember.
The act of laughing brought those pictures at the beach to mind and the usual pang went through him. It was sharp, but duller than he was used to, and it passed as soon as he set eyes on Laurent again. He thought back to the pictures, and got an idea.
“Can you go outside?”
It had taken the answering of some questions. ( “People can’t see me inside here because the shop hides me.” “So it didn’t hide you from me? Why?” “Because it’s a douchebag.”)
It had taken a lot of begging, and an agreement.
“I’ll say yes only if you put on the first thing that you’ll find there”. He’d said, pointing to the big white trunk he’d been rummaging in earlier.
So Damen had gone for it. The first thing he’d found in the trunk, he’d put on.
To his chagrin, and Laurent’s amusement, it had been a mask.
Not one of those pretty venetian masks or one of those with an elastic band.
It had been a rubber mask. A horse-head. It’s mane in real fur. When Damen had put it on, the neck of the mask had been long enough to cover his neck and rest on his shoulders.
Why Laurent had something like that lying around in his shop, Damen wondered as he put it on, was anyone’s guess.
He hadn’t indulged too long in those thoughts, though, because through the little holes placed in the horse’s eyeballs, Damen could see Laurent doubling over. At first there was only a low sound that he could barely make out. It grew louder, and louder until Damen recognized it as laughter. Laughter so strong, Laurent tried to suffocate it first with a hand on his mouth, and then by biting his palm.
Neither worked.
Eventually, the laughter subsided. When Damen was allowed to take his mask off, Laurent only patted him on the head. “Good horsey” he’d said. Then started laughing again. The sound had made Damen smile, and something low in his stomach flutter.
As it turned out Laurent had never tried it, they went out for coffee.
It didn’t go exactly as planned: Laurent hated coffee. It was, quote, disgusting, bitter, why would anyone in their sane drink something like this willingly, unquote.
That was the day Damen started storing away small information about Laurent.
February
Laurent liked the color blue.
He was twenty-one years old.
He did live in the shop, in a way. There was a trap door behind the counter that led to his apartment, which seemed to be enchanted as well, but to which Damen hadn’t so far gained access to.
The apartment was enchanted because his brother had been a magician, a warlock? Something like that. Magic was for sure involved.
He liked reading.
He had lots of books.
He had a cat.
He didn’t, to Damen’s knowledge, have any friend despite someone called Nicaise that would visit him from time to time.
He was determined, he was clever. He knew how to make Damen laugh.
He was gorgeous.
He was starting to become a problem.
March
It was starting to become a problem. Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten about the pictures in the cardboard boxes and had started stopping more and more at the store.
He’d started bringing Laurent small gifts. Cookies to have with his tea, coffee - it had turned out he liked it, after all, with lots of sugar -.
He hadn’t thought, not even for a minute, that it might have been too much when he’d gotten the box of chocolates. Not when the clerk at the store had asked him if he wanted it wrapped, or when a colleague had asked who the lucky lady was. It had just come so natural to him, that he hadn’t realized, until he’d handed the chocolates with a huge golden bow on them to Laurent, and Laurent had lifted a brow at him, that somewhere along the way, he’d started turning friendship into courtship.
Laurent had accepted the chocolates all the same, “It’s very kind” he’d said, putting emphasis on the kind.
And Damen had felt like he was teetering on the edge. One step away from falling. He could still back out. He could still backtrack. They could still go back to that delicate friendship they’d grown comfortable with over the past few months.
He could joke about it, say it was nothing, and they’d go back to how things were before this very moment.
Damen was still thinking it over as a lock of hair that Laurent had tucked behind his ear got lose and fell in front of his face, catching on his lips.
They’d always been gorgeous lips. Somehow, in the last months, he’d gone from admiring them like you’d admire a model on a magazine, to wanting to kiss them.
Wanting to feel them give under his own. Again and again, he’d asked himself how much he’d have to suck on the pale skin of Laurent’s throat to make a love-bite form on it. And now, in this moment, he asked himself what it would be like to hold Laurent’s hand, to make him laugh, to bring him out to dinner and to see him in the kind of soft, post love-making clothing only lovers get to see each-other in.
So, instead of joking, back-tracking, Damen took one of Laurent’s fine-boned hands in his, and kissed the back of it. “Anytime” he said. Laurent blushed, and that was the moment Damen felt something settle inside.
Something settled under his feet, too. A sound, like a cog turning and locking in place echoed around the shop, and Laurent’s eyes narrowed.
“You better not let me down,” he said, looking Damen straight in the eye. “You better not let me down.”
April
Dating, Jokaste had once told him, was like getting to know someone all over again.
They’d known each-other for a fairly long time, and still it seemed to him as if he hadn’t know her well enough, because if there’s one thing he’d never expected from her, it had been unfaithfulness. He had loved her, and he knew she had loved him.
But she had moved on, and as he stared at Laurent sitting in front of him, looking far too real to have come out of a magical shop, he realized he had, too.
“You know” Laurent started. “ I think you may be more trouble than you’re worth, Damen.”
Damen reached for Laurent’s hand on the table. “I think I’m just enough trouble. No more than needed.”
Laurent smiled, leaned back.
“I’ve seen the world with that shop. Some of those globes in there? They don’t show this earth, they don’t show this world. Why would you be worth staying?”
Damen grinned, slowly closing his fingers around Laurent’s.
“ I don’t know" Damen said. “ But you do. If you didn’t think it’d be worth, then you wouldn’t be here. So, would you mind answering that question for me?”
Laurent shook his head, his fingers running along Damen’s.
The booth Damen had gotten them was on the smaller, more private side. Admittedly a bit too tiny for Damen himself. But it gave the illusion of it being them and nobody else well enough, so Damen didn’t mind.
“ I was under the impression the shop moved of its own volition.” Damen said
Laurent shook his head. “In a way.” Then he kept talking.
“ Auguste.” He took a deep breath “ He never actually changed the settings. My needs,” Laurent’s voice was getting lower, his feet caressing Damen’s shin slowly. “ come before anything else.”
“ Really?” Damen smiled at him. He leaned forward, bringing himself as close to Laurent as the table between them allowed him to.
“ And what would those be?”
Laurent brought his thumb to his lips, in the way he did when he was thoughtful enough to forget himself. “ I need someone determined. I need someone who’ll come for five months straight to the same shop on the off chance that something will change. Do you happen to know someone like that?”
Laurent smirked, his foot still moving up and down Damen’s shin.
“ I may" Damen said “ but how is he going to find you?”
Laurent leaned forward, his hands finding the lapels of Damen’s jacket and pulling him towards him, half sprawling him over the table.
“As long as he needs me, he won’t ever have any trouble.”
Then Laurent kissed him. And his lips were both as soft as Damen had imagined, and nowhere as pliant.
And somehow, he thought, they tasted like magic.
Capri Secret Santa Masterlist Info
Hey everyone! We hope you’re having a lovely Christmas/Hannukah/whichever holiday you celebrate and enjoying the Capri Secret Santa works that have been posted on AO3 here!
Now for the masterlist...as expected we had some very last-minute dropouts and we wanted to give everyone the chance to view/thank their gifter together. So we will be releasing the masterlist when the backup gifters have completed their works. It should be no later than the 31st of December.
Sorry for the wait and enjoy your holidays!
The Mods Team
Ok! So here is my entry for @capri-secretsanta for participant #21 with your third prompt: some sappy AF Lamen feat. the winter time. Rated M, for some slightly nsfw happenings in the middle or so. I hope you like it! :DD [[Will probably post to Ao3 in a few days]]
Morning winter light filtered in through the windows, a soft glow resting over the stillness of the room. Damen and Laurent were together in the massive bed at the center, bodies pressed, legs tangled, under a mound of soft blankets. Laurent was laying nearly on Damen’s chest, having migrated as close as possible throughout the night for warmth. Damen knew he should probably relight the fire, or at least call someone to, but it seemed near criminal to disrupt the peace of the room, to disturb Laurent’s sleeping form so sweetly on him.
Damen, always an early riser, had been awake nearly an hour and had spent it wisely: Fondly watching Laurent as he slept next to him. Laurent’s beauty, always beyond belief to Damen, was even more so as he slept. His face was so soft, so at peace it always gave Damen pause and he could only hope to remain waking up to it for years to come. Damen placed his hand over the one laurent had on his chest, its larger size nearly encasing laurents and he rubbed a soothing thumb along Laurent’s fingers.
Laurent started to come awake and Damen kept his gaze, these moments being some that he cherished the most. He would never get over the sight of Laurent waking, brilliant blue eyes coming open and slight confusion melting in to recognition as his lips curved into a smile, still a little shy even after their years together. Damen took pride in that he was the only one that had and would ever see this side of Laurent. Laurent’s sweet smile changed then, in to one of fond exasperation.
“You know,” he began as he shifted even closer, his head resting more now on Damen’s shoulder. He craned his head up for a moment, pressing a kiss to Damen’s jaw before settling back down. “If you took all the time you spend uselessly staring at me, and applied it to to our kingdom, i feel we could even be ruling all of Patras and Vask now.”
“Our Kingdom is enough.” Fondly.
Laurent lets out a small, beautiful laugh “Of course, Of course.”
They are quiet for several moments after, taking comfort solely in each other’s company. It’s peaceful, serene in a way that Damen has found only comes with true, unwavering love. He could lay here for days, kingdom be damned.
Laurent laughed again, as if reading Damen’s thoughts “We will have to get out of bed eventually, you know. We are the kings.”
“Yes, Exactly, we are the kings. And as King, I say that we can do as we please. They won’t miss us for one day.”
“A whole day? In bed?” Laurent was shaking now with laughter, and Damen felt his own lips stretch in to a larger smile. A shift and a turn, and Damen rolled their bodies so that he was on top, Laurent’s back pressed in the mattress. Laurent immediately wound his arms around Damen’s neck, a brilliant smile still on his full lips.
“Yes,” said Damen and leaned down to press a kiss to Laurent’s neck, then his jaw, and then just under his ear. Damen heard the small breath of a sound of pleasure that left Laurents mouth. “There is plenty that we could do, right here. All day. “ Damen whispers in to Laurent’s ear and punctuates it with a press of his hips down on to Laurent’s, who presses back.
The kiss happens naturally, first soft and sweet but takes little time at all to deepen. Their bodies begin to rock together, Damen’s cock is already hard and hot against Laurent, and he shifts slightly, so that his arousal and Laurent’s meet to rub deliciously against each other. Laurent breaks off the kiss and lets out a soft moan that Damen is all too pleased to hear.
It all happens so slowly, so sweetly, just as they both like. They kiss again, long and deep and it feels like hours before Damen is opening Laurent up with gentle, oiled fingers. Even longer still, before he finally slides in and they seek their pleasure, together. As always, Damen loses himself in end and its with whispers of love and admiration that they finally reach their climaxes, as one.
After, Damen is on his back with his head resting on one bent arm. His other hand is clasped in Laurent’s, their fingers lazily twined. Laurent is sitting up, back against the headboard and sipping on a cup of water.
“I dont think im so opposed to a day in bed now.” Laurent finally says, breaking the silence. He leans to set his cup on the table next to the bed and lays back down, immediately moving back up against Damen. “You put up a convincing argument.”
Damen grins and accepts Laurent’s body to his and turns, so that he could wrap his arms fully around him. “Do i?” He responds, deep and with fondness. Their eyes lock and they share a long, silent gaze. Laurent breaks it first with another smile and leans in to deliver a soft kiss to Damen’s lips.
“Unless you’d rather spend it outside, i think that’s snow falling i see through the window there.” says Laurent, followed by a laugh as Damen’s face scrunches up in distaste. “I can show you the lake Auguste and I used to sneak out to skate on.”
“I don’t imagine i have the stature for balancing on Ice.” Frowning.
“But i think we could make quite the game, guessing how many times you’ll fall.”
Damen can’t help the grin that spreads his lips “I suppose, anything for your happiness, Lover.”
******
Loud Laughter rings out through the open clearing as Damen staggers to his feet, once again having fallen on the ice of the lake. As he suspected, the thin blades do not agree with his body on the ice, and he gathers that he will have a fair share of bruises even visible on his skin once the day is over.
“You could help, you know.” Damen huffs, but without any real malice. He finds himself too distracted laurent’s bright smile and his pale cheeks, reddened by the biting cold. Laurent stands with all the ease and grace that one would expect just a few feet away.
As if finally deciding that Damen had suffered enough, he skates over with arms outstretched. “Come, I’ll teach you.” And Damen takes his hands, allowing himself to be guided across the ice, the effort made easier with Laurent’s steady grip. Laurent skates backward, leading Damen with ease around the lake and for the first time that day, Damen doesn’t feel like a newborn deer.
“See,” Laurent says softly “Soon enough you’ll be as graceful as a cat out here, no help required.”
“I think i much like it better with the help.”
Damen leans in, Laurent meeting him halfway so they remain steady, and they kiss in the center of the lake just as new snow begins to fall.
Overdue reunions
This is my gift for number 20, for the @capri-secretsanta event! One of your prompts contained Erasmus&Kallias (or more than one actually now that I think about it) and I had seriously hoped for them! So naturally, I picked them and I had a blast writing about them <3 No warnings are needed
It’s over 3.5k, so please go here to read it: CLICK HERE or click READ MORE to read the first ~400 words ^^
It was in the second summer after Damen’s ascension that an invitation came for Thorveld – or more importantly, Erasmus. It looked different from all the official messages, addressed to the Royal family, that arrived every now and then. It surprised Erasmus that it was written in Akielon, after he had been allowed to read it.
He winced slightly at the first line. He’d hoped everyone had forgotten how he had come to Thorveld. Though, he had to admit he wasn’t surprised that the King of Akielos had not forgotten. Maybe, someday, he would, and Erasmus could only look forward to it.
To Erasmus, former slave, now free man in Patras.
Hereby, you are requested to come to the joined court of Akielos and Vere, where a surprise awaits you. You are welcome from the moment this invitation is sealed until you have either come or have decided to refuse this gift. We are very looking forward to seeing you arrive. Naturally, you are free to bring whoever you desire with you to the court.
King Damianos of Akielos
&
King Laurent of Vere
Underneath was the royal seal of Akielos and Damen has personally written his signature. It was as personal as he could get it. And cocky. Either way, King Damianos surely would know Erasmus would take this bait.
Thorveld looked at it with a frown.
“What would the King of Akielos want with you?” He asked Erasmus.
Erasmus, who had no idea, could only answer truthfully. “I do not know.”
Thorveld’s eye returned to the invitation.
Erasmus could see him considering wanting to refuse the invitation. “What are the chances it is a trap?” How long had it taken him to be less formal with Thorveld? Erasmus didn’t remember.
“You can see right through me, can’t you?” Thorveld sighed. “I suppose you have a point. It is simply impossible for anyone to have obtained to royal seal of Akielos without any notice.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“What will you decide?” Thorveld looked at him with curious eyes.
Erasmus knew he had already decided. Even if he knew who – or what – was expecting him, he would face it. “I’m going.” He said with confidence.
Thorveld smiled. “Good. I was afraid I had to force you to go.”
Erasmus put on his serious face. “No need. When can we leave?”
“You look like a whore”
My @capri-secretsanta for #40. There didn't specify any prompts other than it being Damen and Laurent, so thank you for giving me an excuse to draw Damen with some gold and paint! Can’t say it’s the most cheerful secret santa, but happy holidays!! :D
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
This is my gift for Request #11, for the @capri-secretsanta event!
Pairing: Damen/Laurent
Prompt: Damen/Laurent romantic stuff
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Warnings Apply
Summary:
‘I would have, you know,’ Damen says once Laurent has snuggled back into the cocoon of their combined bodies, ‘courted you properly if I had had the time.’ The thoughts have risen, recycled and refined over the years, and somehow, neither of them tire of it.
Laurent giggles, his previous anger forgotten. The hot puff of air brushes over Damen’s heart.
‘What? Don’t you believe me?’
‘Like Father would have agreed.’ Though Damen doesn’t see it, he can feel the smile in Laurent’s voice; it lightens the burden of their past. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to indulge in the happiness that trails fantasies.
I hope you enjoy this fic, dear giftee, and I hope it fulfills your prompt. A Very Happy New Year to you!
Cheers!
my present for the @capri-secretsanta this year for participant #18, who wished for Jord and Aimeric !
its a bit messy but I tried my best to make it fluffy ^^. I hope you like it <3
