#anyway he should start using damen's name soon i'm about to that scene

[altruistic-meme]

i love subconsciously doing things in my writing it’s so fun :)

[goldencuffs]

Hi! Do you have any new Lamen fics planned tho? And if so is it possible for you to give us hints about the plot?

YES I DO!! 🙌✨🎉

just one. maybe two.

but i've written quite a lot of one particular au. it has very cliche stereotypes - jock damen and ballet dancer laurent who are "friends" with benefits. damen is a complete and utter asshole in this. and he makes laurent's life miserable most of the time. laurent is, naturally, in love with damen.

it also features aleron and laurent getting along but with a twist... (aleron is extremely controlling and overprotective and laurent is People Pleaser to his core in this au so he goes along with all of aleron's restrictions).

i want to finish at least half of it (i already have 20k!!!) before i start posting because i don't want people to be waiting forever in between updates (not that that's what i'm known for hahahaha...............)

anyway enough yapping. here's (part) of the first scene hehe ✨

Damen sucked leisurely, like they had all the time in the world, his thumb breaching Laurent. It was dry, but they both knew how much Laurent loved the painful stretch, the initial press. Laurent’s head was vibrating in pleasure. His stomach was clenching and unclenching; he was going to come soon, and then Damen would really lose it, because he liked fucking into Laurent when he was loose and pliant. The buzzing around his head was growing, and Laurent was shaking, completely— “Shit.” Damen pulled away, just at the crest of Laurent’s orgasm. “Nooo,” Laurent groaned. “Damen, please, I’m—” “Wait. Shut up. Shit.” “What?” Laurent propped himself up on his elbows, because he was just starting to realise Damen sounded panicked, not turned on. And there was a buzzing still in his head—wait, no, next to it; Laurent turned, to where Damen’s phone was on the nightstand, and saw Jokaste’s name flash across the screen. He frowned. “Why is she calling you?” Damen snatched the phone, silencing it. “Shit.” “Why is she calling you, Damen?” Damen exhaled sharply. He ran his hands through his hair, and then seemed to remember there wasn’t much of it left, and his hand fell awkwardly in his lap, where his jeans were stretched and tented. “Look,” he said. “I completely forgot… but, uh, Jokaste and I… We got back together last week.” Laurent shot up. “What?” “Look—” “Are you fucking kidding me, Damen?” Laurent snapped. He didn’t know what to focus on: the infuriating expression on Damen’s face, his almost-orgasm, his half-naked state, the fact that Damen was back with his fucking— “What the fuck is wrong with you? How could you forget that? How could you not tell me—and, and, and, you called me over to—” “Jesus, calm down, alright,” Damen shifted on his knees, looking both morose and furious. “If anything, you should take it as a compliment I forgot about her the moment I saw you—” “What is wrong with you? Who the fuck in their right mind would take that as a compliment?” Laurent hands were shaking with—anger, distraught, frustration—as he pulled up his underwear and pants. The worst part was that his treacherous heart was taking it as a compliment. “Why did you even get back together with her? I thought her sleeping with Kastor—your brother, by the way, in case you fucking forgot—was the last straw.” Damen rolled his eyes, and now he was really starting to look annoyed, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched. “That was months ago. And they didn’t sleep together; he just went down on her.” He paused. “Actually, you know what, this works in my favour, since I just went down on you… so it’s kind of like tit for tat. Guilt absolved.” Laurent’s mouth dropped. He stood, whirling on Damen. “Oh my fucking God, Damen. What is wrong with you?” “How many fucking times are you going to ask me that?” “How can you sit there and fucking act like you’ve done nothing wrong?” Laurent cried. “I’ve been fucking twiddling my thumbs, waiting for you, and, and, and last week. You got back with her last week—you couldn’t have told me?” “I deleted your number after she called and—” “Oh my god!” Laurent pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Oh my god. Oh my god. That’s why you’re back early, isn’t it? To see her, before she goes on her retreat?” And here it was: at three-thirty on a Tuesday morning, Damen destroying his entire world and heart with a few simple sentences, in a span of five minutes. This was record-breaking, actually, even for them.