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I want you to want me

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It was a testament to how much time they had spent apart that Carlos’ heart was fluttering like a bird in his chest when he came to halt in front of the door to Rodrigo’s rooms. He willed his knees to stop shaking; years ago he would not have thought twice about what he was about to do and now he dared not even raise his fist to knock. He came here longing to find comfort in Rodrigo’s company but could he be sure his childhood companion would still be willing to give it to him? Their reunion at the San Yuste monastery had been all tears (on Carlos’ side), bone-crushing embraces and fleeting touches but now standing here Carlos felt the cold touch of uncertainty upon him.

After moments of hesitation he resolved to throw himself forward blindly, come what may. Deciding to forego the knocking entirely he simply opened the door, eyes falling on the dark figure inside.

There he was, his Rodrigo, his beloved, the sight of him almost enough to drive the thoughts of Elisabeth from Carlos’ mind. He was leaning on the desk and seemed to be deep in thought, but swiftly turned round at the noise. Doubts cast aside (but not really forgotten), Carlos closed the door behind himself and walked ahead with single-minded focus until he stood chest to chest with Rodrigo. This close to his childhood friend he had to angle his head up a little, to be able to look directly into Rodrigo’s eyes.

“Carlos,” the Marquis smiled, brightening the world around him. “Is there–”

He was quickly cut off by the press of Carlos’ mouth to his, clumsy in his insistence. Although taken aback at first, Posa recovered quickly and Carlos sank into the kiss as Posa’s arms came up around him and he was being kissed back, as sweet as he remembered. Rodrigo’s hands fisted into his hair and Carlos could barely contain the burst of joy that shot through him as he recognized the raw need behind that gesture. It wasn’t long before Rodrigo’s hands began to wander, caressing his arms, dancing on his waist, pressing into his hips and Carlos practically melted under those slender, beautiful fingers.

The kiss grew increasingly heated and Carlos sighed as he pressed up to Rodrigo with his entire body. It felt heavenly to taste that mouth again and Carlos almost wept with the force of the emotion. To be touched, finally, after the long lonely years spent adhering to the strict etiquette of the court among flattering courtiers and no friends, to feel a heartbeat under his palm and a warm body against his own and touch not just anyone but Rodrigo… Carlos tightened his fingers where they were clutching the Marquis’ shoulders and tried to press himself even closer. Maybe if he put enough force into it, he could glue himself to the man and they would become inseparable again and Posa would not be allowed to leave him. He kissed Rodrigo open-mouthed, desperate, putting all his love into the kiss and eager to show him everything he had not dared to say during their reunion at the monastery.

“Where were you today, Rodrigo?” he asked, when they finally managed to pull apart, breathless and flushing.

“I had the audience with the Queen,” Rodrigo murmured against his lips. “You know I relayed your message.” His large hands were cupping Carlos’ face and, for the sake of retaining some semblance of dignity, the prince resisted the urge to further lean into the touch. His own encounter with Elisabeth, though full of tears, pleas and recollections of lost dreams, seemed a distant, clouded affair now, paling in comparison with the man in front of Carlos.

“And after that?” He brought his hand up to wrap his fingers around Rodrigo’s wrist, running his thumb over the pulse point softly. His body was tired, so was his mind, but here, with Rodrigo, nothing could reach him, as long as Posa craved him just as much.

“I had some business to attend to,” Rodrigo’s lips moved to his cheekbone, placing gentle kisses there. “Do you mistrust me, Carlos?” He pressed another kiss to his temple and pulled away, resting his chin on top of Carlos’ head instead.

“Never,” came the muffled reply and Carlos freed himself from the embrace to look up at Rodrigo, his doe eyes wide and earnest. “Have I offended you, my Rodrigo?”

“No, Carlos,” Rodrigo smiled again and Carlos felt his chest swell with love and devotion. This was not a man, it was an angel, a saint in his arms and Carlos was ready to fall to his knees before him.

Rodrigo laced their fingers together and stepped back. “Come,” he whispered, leading the way and pulling Carlos along him to the large bed that stood near the farthest corner of the room.

At the foot of the bed he turned, dragging Carlos in for another kiss and Carlos obliged eagerly, grasping at Rodrigo in his desperation. Not much mattered to him at that moment, the problems with his father were cast aside and the ever-present image of Elisabeth dimmed in his mind as Rodrigo’s deft fingers worked on his clothes and his hot mouth made its way down his throat, pulling a sigh from Carlos. Rodrigo smiled against his neck and bit down lightly, licking over the spot when Carlos’ fingers dug into his back. He sucked a mark beneath the collarbone and pressed a long kiss to Carlos’ now naked shoulder.

“You too,” Carlos breathed, pushing Rodrigo back and concentrating on undressing him. The sight of Rodrigo’s chest was familiar, every birthmark and mole burnt into his memory, save for a couple of scars that he had clearly gotten while they were apart. Carlos traced the white lines with his thumb.

“These are new,” he remarked.

“Silly accidents,” Rodrigo waved, “so trivial, the stories are not worth telling.”

Carlos’ finger pressed in harder on impulse before pulling away. The thought of a wounded Rodrigo was not the one he welcomed, even if the wounds had been insignificant, so to overshadow those thoughts he leaned forward for another kiss, which Rodrigo gave gladly. Their bodies were flush against each other and Carlos sighed at the feeling of Rodrigo's warm skin on his. A thigh slid between Carlos’ legs and he fought the urge to grind back against it. The thigh moved anyway, relentless until it pulled a moan from Carlos’ throat.

“Enough,” Carlos rasped, pulling back and pushing Rodrigo to sit on the bed, “let me taste you.”

The crown prince was nothing but forward in his demands and Rodrigo let out a quiet ‘oh’ as he obliged, getting rid of the rest of the clothing quickly and spreading his legs to accommodate Carlos. His hand cupped the jaw of the man kneeling in front of him and caressed his cheek before burying itself into his hair and tousling it further. The light from the candles danced in the dimly-lit room and, looking up, Carlos saw it reflect around Posa in the form of what almost resembled a halo. He found it appropriate, considering he wanted nothing more but to worship Rodrigo.

He put one hand on Rodrigo’s knee and slid it upwards, relishing in the feel of the muscle under his palm. Carlos would gladly spend his life nestled between these strong legs, safe and content. It had been quite a while since he last found himself in this position and yet it felt natural, like that time did not pass at all. Instinctively (or remembering a long-abandoned habit) he leaned forward and pressed wet, sloppy kisses to the inside of Rodrigo’s thigh, trailing his lips upward. He heard Rodrigo’s trembling exhale and smiled to himself, happy to have pulled a reaction out of him.

“Carlos,” the voice came from above, low and strained, “do not tease.”

Rodrigo’s cock lay heavy and flushed against his thigh and who was Carlos to deny his friend? Running his tongue over the head he delighted in the sound Rodrigo made, hand tightening in Carlos’ hair. He raised his head, eager to see the need for him in Rodrigo’s gaze, but Posa’s eyes were shut tight, throat bared as he threw his head back, so Carlos returned to the task at hand. In one swift movement he swallowed Rodrigo down and was rewarded by a low, drawn-out moan. The sound went straight to his cock but Carlos brushed his own arousal aside, focused on Rodrigo and Rodrigo alone. He sucked and licked and relished in Posa’s reactions as the man above him moaned shamelessly, all his restraint forgotten.

It felt like an act of worship and Carlos groaned, face alight with reverence. There was nowhere he would rather be, nowhere he belonged more than between Rodrigo’s legs, working his mouth up and down and pleasuring him in the way he knew best. He felt warm all over, earlier worries discarded and all his focus trained on one objective - make Posa come. His own arousal was almost painful in its intensity, dripping precum onto the rich carpet beneath his knees, but Carlos did not dare - or want - seek relief just yet. The familiar noises, intensifying moans and choked off oaths were all tell-tale signs that Rodrigo was on the brink of ecstasy and Carlos ignored the dull ache in his chest reminding him of how much he had missed it. Just another lick of the tongue or a swallowing motion and Posa would —

“No,” Rodrigo panted, “stop, Carlos, ah, not just yet.”

Strong hands pushed at his shoulders and Carlos was forced to sit back on his heels, mouth red and glistening with spit. Looking up, he was met with the sight of an equally disheveled Rodrigo, face flushed and chest heaving.

“I do not want us to be finished so fast,” Rodrigo clarified, extending his hand to Carlos, “come here.”

The prince, for all his status and standing, was unceremoniously yanked to his feet and pulled into the bed and before he knew it, Rodrigo was upon him, dropping light kisses on his face and neck. Finally fully aware of his own need, Carlos writhed on the sheets, dizzy with desire, gasping when Rodrigo ran fingers over his neglected cock, teasing.

“Rodrigo,” he begged, voice rough and throat sore from overuse, “please…”

“How do you want me, my prince?” Carlos could hear the smile in Rodrigo’s voice.

“In- inside,” he breathed and jolted as he felt a single finger probe at him from behind. When Rodrigo had managed to get the oil, let alone open it, was a mystery to Carlos but he found he was not particularly interested in solving it at that moment.

Rolling over to his stomach Carlos let Rodrigo get to opening him up, gasping at the sensation. He buried his face in the sheets, letting them swallow all the sounds escaping him as Rodrigo opened him up diligently, but far too slowly for his liking.

“It has been a while - tell me if it hurts,” Posa whispered, moving his fingers at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“It will not,” Carlos breathed, “I trust you. But please, more.” He tried to rock back on Rodrigo’s fingers, only for the palm on his waist pin him to the bed.

“Impatient, Carlos?” Rodrigo teased, adding another digit and having Carlos cry out in delight.

“I want you,” Carlos demanded, in a typical royal fashion.

“And you shall have me,” Rodrigo placed a long kiss on Carlos’ shoulder blade and pressed all three fingers inside now, still far too slow if you asked the prince. “I am all yours.” The hand moved, now more determined and Carlos made a sound that would surely haunt him in the days to come.

“Alright?” Posa’s voice shook slightly and Carlos knew he was just as impatient, simply better at holding himself back.

“Yes, yes,” he almost swore, “please, Rodrigo.”

Finally, after what felt like far too long to Carlos, Rodrigo deigned to give him what he begged for, pulling his hand out and making Carlos hiss in anticipation.

“Is it to your liking, at last?” Carlos threw over his shoulder, “now will you–”

Rodrigo draped himself across Carlos’ back, cock hard against his ass.

“Turn around for me,” he whispered into Carlos’ ear, sending heat coursing through him, “I want to look at your face.”

Before he knew it, a hand sneaked around Carlos’ waist, turning him on his back and he was being kissed hungrily, Rodrigo’s lips hot and insistent upon his. Carlos moaned into the kiss and arched up in silent plea.

At last Rodrigo took pity on his prince. He pulled away from the kiss only to coat himself in oil and push into Carlos, who let out a grateful sigh and reached for Rodrigo’s hand, entangling their fingers together. Rodrigo gave a thrust and Carlos could cry with relief. There were no words to express how he had missed the feeling of being filled up by Rodrigo. It felt comforting, warm and familiar, and maybe in this bed, surrounded by Posa’s scent and voice he could pretend they were still the young carefree boys from years before. He would not think about his own problems or about Rodrigo leaving, or the possibility of him abandoning Carlos again for the sake of greater things. Using their entwined hands he dragged Rodrigo down for another kiss, moaning into his mouth as Rodrigo ground into him. Raising his legs, he gripped Rodrigo and held him closer. Posa’s dark hair fell around their faces in a curtain, shielding them from the outside and narrowing down Carlos’ entire world to Rodrigo. He marveled at the beauty above him, longing to reach out and touch it but the overwhelming pleasure made it difficult to even keep his eyes open. Rodrigo’s free hand sneaked between their sweaty bodies and gripped his cock, stroking in rhythm and Carlos allowed himself to drown in the sensations engulfing him.

Despite Rodrigo’s insistence that he wanted to draw out the entire affair, his movements soon became erratic and jerky, losing their rhythm as he chased completion. His hand on Carlos’ cock sped up, making him gasp and moan in the way only Rodrigo could.

“You will come for me, will you not, Carlos,” Posa ground out, words punctuated by thrusts in between, “like you used to?”

That did it for Carlos. He keened and was soon shaking, coming apart in Rodrigo’s skilled hands, covering both their stomachs in come. He was distantly aware of his own voice crying out something unintelligible, some litany of pleas, but he was too far gone to care. Rodrigo fucked him through his orgasm and spent soon after, collapsing on top of him with a groan and Carlos’ name on his lips.

“You did not tell me what affair demanded your attention earlier,” were Carlos’ first words, after he took a moment to recover. His voice came out hoarse and suddenly he felt thankful for the thick stone walls and heavy doors of the palace for muting the noises the crown prince had been making not even five minutes before. He winced when Rodrigo pulled out, and opened his eyes at last.

Rodrigo propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at Carlos appreciatively, no doubt pleased with himself for bringing the prince to this state. He traced the dark marks he had sucked into Carlos’ skin and hummed.

“Stay with me tonight,” he offered instead of an answer, taking Carlos’ hand and raising it to press a kiss to his knuckles.

Carlos nodded, too spent to ask for explanations. He felt sticky with sweat and semen, his muscles ached and there was a nagging worry in the back of his mind but for the night he would brush it all to the side and let himself indulge in the comfort of Rodrigo’s arms.