The longing he felt as Laurent gave him access to himself simply didn't compare to the lust he'd felt before. Damen could experience this desire, could acknowledge it, could even burn with it silently from the moans of the beautiful man in his lap, but this longing found its quench and renewal in lavishing Laurent with the kinds of touches he liked.

He felt the grip of Laurent's hand on the single brooch that held his garment up by one shoulder. Heard the unspoken question there. "Yes," he said, and reclaimed Laurent's mouth. That much, at least, Damen let himself claim. Who else could kiss Laurent this way? No one, he said in his kiss. Only Damen.

Inch by inch, he mapped out the contours of Laurent's neck, light swathes down the back of it, his fingers indescribably gentle and slow-moving as he swept around the side of it, the long pale front, laces tugged loose and deep to expose more of it. Damen let his kisses fall to Laurent's chin, the line of his jaw, the space just underneath it. He kissed that pulsepoint too. Slowly, his lips worshipped the soft vulnerable flesh there, tracing down the column of Laurent's throat.