Work Text:
War made animals of good men. No one felt the burden of war more than the Prince of Aragon himself. Claudio knew that all too well. As a soldier, he understood his royal master’s pain, and as a friend, he tried to lighten the load as best he could.
Someone to lean on, someone to trust. Someone who will obey. Someone who will wipe the blood off his skin. The last one was new, Claudio thought as he brought the cloth up to the Prince’s back. In all the years of service, he had never seen such a bloodbath. His lord, never being one to hide from a fight, was caught in the middle of the crimson storm.
Claudio had fretted, panicked even at his lord’s usually pristine white coat, blood stained and unrecognisable from the royal garments. The count had checked and checked and yet checked again, but the wounds were not the Prince’s. That was a relief.
And yet, Claudio could understand the hollow, sickened look in Pedro’s eyes all too well.
The Prince was unable to speak, he stared blankly at the floor as Claudio moved the cloth over his back. He made sure the water was warm, scorching even, to make sure the Prince didn’t shiver or catch a cold.
Pedro sat in his breeches and boots still on. Both stained with blood and mud. His jacket lay discarded, for now, until Claudio could divide his time to it.
His heart ached to see his strong and caring prince in such a state. He hadn’t said a word in hours. Claudio couldn’t blame him. He knew that the Prince would pull himself together in due time, as he always did. But he knew that right now, his lord needed him.
Claudio moved his hand up to the back of Pedro’s neck. The man stiffened and glanced back at him. He had started playing with the chain around his neck some time ago but paused his fiddling to focus on him. Claudio raised his other hand to the man’s shoulder to calm him, the man thankfully relaxed under his touch. Claudio dragged the cloth up to Pedro’s ear and cheek, to wipe the blood off there before moving to his shoulder.
He stared at Pedro’s skin, at the nervous fidgeting, and bit his lip. What could he do to ease his lord’s pain? He couldn’t bear it. Claudio moved his hand from Pedro’s shoulder down to his arm and started to move his hand up and down absentmindedly. It seemed to bring a slither of comfort to the Prince.
Without thinking it though, Claudio leaned forward, resting his cheek against Pedro’s skin. It was scorching hot beneath his cheek and as he breathed he was overwhelmed with the Prince’s sweet scent. It was almost addicting, like the comfort of home. But there was the underlying scent of blood that no amount of Claudio’s scrubbing could lift.
Pedro didn’t move or pull away from the touch so Claudio slowly, ever so gently, set down the wash cloth and reached his arm over Pedro’s shoulder, to grasp his chest. The other arm linked under the Prince’s arm and held onto his stomach. He couldn’t help himself as he leaned in closer. Pedro’s bare back flush against his clothed chest. Claudio melted into the embrace. It had been decades since he held anyone. And he was holding tightly to his Prince, like he was the only thing keeping him afloat.
In his content at the comfort, he forgot his intended purpose and sharply jerked his head up. Looking to peer over Pedro’s shoulder to see if the Prince was angry with him. He was meant to be cleaning him for God’s sake. He was meant to be helping his Master, not fulfilling his own selfish needs for comfort, especially when Pedro needed it more.
But the Prince’s eyes were closed and his jaw was relaxed. He looked far more peaceful than he had for hours. Pedro huffed out an unhappy groan at the loss of contact and the cold air on his skin. Claudio quickly responded, as if by instinct, and pressed his face into Pedro’s shoulder blade so that he could still peer at his lord’s face for sights of any discomfort, or even disgust at Claudio’s actions. But the Prince seemed as content as he felt.
Claudio buried his face in the Prince’s back and deeply inhaled his calming scent. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but when he finally ripped himself away from Pedro’s skin, the rag had become lukewarm. Luckily, the pot of water remained above the embers of the fire.
With regret, Claudio untangled himself from the Prince and rose to his feet to fetch more water. There were still splatters of blood on Pedro’s face and across his head. As he pulled away, he was stopped by the tight fingers curled around his wrist. Claudio looked down, at the calloused hand, then followed the muscled arm, up to the face of his lord. The emotion painted across his features made the air in the Count’s lungs slip away. He looked so…desperate, like he was begging. It was wrong. The just Prince should never have to plead for anything. But what was he asking for?
“I’m fetching the water, my lord.” His voice broke, croaky and low from the lack of use. His mind was distracted by the warmth of the hand around his wrist and the surprising softness of the Prince’s touch. A stricken and odd look came across Pedro’s face and he let go of his wrist and pulled his arm away, as if he had been burnt.
Claudio grabbed the wet rag and quickly stepped over to the pot of water. He tried to be as quiet as he could but the squish of the trodden mud beneath his feet made it difficult. The water was still steaming which was a good sign so Claudio wrung out the rag, biting back a gasp of disgust at the red liquid spilling over his hands. Pretend it’s wine. Dipping the rag into the pot, Claudio tested the heat so as not to scold the Prince, or himself. He hovered, soaking the water in the pot, buying himself time to calm his nerves and shaking hands. He glanced over to Prince in the corner of his eye. He sat with his head low and his hands clasped together, like he was praying. He probably was.
Tiptoeing so he wouldn’t disturb the Prince, Claudio approached, but his efforts were futile. As soon as he came near Pedro, his head shot up and he straightened his back, like a soldier. It didn’t hide the tear streaks down his face. Claudio took a seat facing him and watched his jaw set as they stared at each other. There was an intensity in the Prince’s gaze, but Claudio didn’t dare turn his eyes away. He slowly raised the cloth to his lord’s face, asking for permission. After what felt like a lifetime of silence, he finally nodded but still flinched at the contact before relaxing into the warmth. Relaxing into Claudio’s hand. Pedro let his eyes fall closed again. He looked so peaceful, finally.
He dragged the cloth over the Prince’s cheeks as gently as he could. He wiped away the blood, the dirt, the sweat and tears, and that look of anguish on his face. For that, the count was relieved. He couldn’t bear it any longer, he couldn’t bear the pain on his Master’s face. He couldn’t bear the agony.
Trailing his hand down, Claudio cleaned the blood from his temple, his forehead and through his short hair. He moved the cloth back down, over his nose and across his chin, patting gently at his beard. Claudio froze, a lump forming in his throat as his finger grazed over the Prince’s lips. Pedro opened his eyes.
The count didn’t know how it happened, or when, but he was suddenly aware of how close they were, how their breath mingled in the inches between them. Pedro’s eyes were so dark, so full of life and death. He was his Master, his friend, his-
Claudio gasped in surprise when lips connected to his own. This couldn’t be real. He had wanted, wanted for so long. But it was real and Pedro needed him right now. And Claudio loved-
Lost in his surprise and drowning in desire, he forgot to kiss the Prince back. Before he could, Pedro was already reeling backwards, panicked and apologetic. Claudio could’ve cried.
“I’m sorry Claudio,” the Prince rambled, looking distraught and the count felt as though his heart was being picked out of his chest piece by piece. “Forgive me. Please I didn’t mean-” His hands were outstretched towards him, as if reaching for him and yet pushing him away all at once.
It was the first words he had said in hours, and they were an apology. Claudio ached to comfort him but his lips still burned from where Pedro had kissed him.
Claudio dropped the bloodied rag from his hand and with a feather-light touch, trailed his fingers up the Prince’s arm. His touch left goosebumps in its wake and slowly, cautiously, Claudio’s fingers danced, crept up to Pedro’s cheek. A look of confusion and fear crossed the Prince’s features, until it was replaced by a look of understanding, of hunger.
Pedro drew the other man in, slowly, painfully slowly, until their lips brushed. He looked up to the count, looking him deep in the eye and waiting patiently. Claudio parted his lips, panting, he couldn’t bear to wait any longer. Grabbing both of his cheeks, he pulled the Prince close, teasingly brushing their lips again before placing a kiss to the edge of his mouth, bating Pedro to take him, take his lips, his mind, his soul if he wanted.
When their lips finally connected, it was as though heaven moved between them. Pedro was so…warm, so soft and yet so wanting. Their kiss was chaste. To begin with, until Pedro nipped at Claudio’s bottom lip and he couldn’t fight back the deep whine that escaped him. Heat spread through his body faster than any fire.
The Prince was done being patient it seemed as his fingers laced in his hair and he deepened the kiss. A moan escaped Claudio at the feel of his lord’s tongue gently prodding at his lips to part. Eagerly, he obliged and the pair moaned together as their tongues danced. If he wasn’t blushing enough, the sound of his own pitiful and high pitch noises mixed with Pedro’s deeper ones must have turned him red. The heat was too much.
Pedro pulled at the strands of hair, making Claudio gasp, into the kiss, opening his mouth wider to let the Prince explore with his tongue. He couldn’t get enough, the feeling was divine and he had never felt anything like it. The closeness, the desire made his head spin. Pedro’s movements were hungry and he slid his hand down, one still in his hair but the other moved to Claudio’s lower back, then under his coat, before finally pinching the fabric to pull it up so he could touch the bare skin beneath.
At the sudden contact, the Count’s hands began to tremble as he moved them to Pedro’s shoulders, gripping onto him tightly with the fear he’d dissolve into nothing if he let go. Claudio sucked on the Prince’s tongue, pulling him close and flush against him as the other man’s hands wandered up his back, between his shoulder blades and back down. Lost in the heat and dizzy with excitement, Claudio didn’t notice the Prince’s hand still, hesitant as he lightly traced the divots and scars dotted on his back. The Prince recovered quickly, stroking up and down, spreading goosebumps all over his skin.
His lord groaned, gripping his hair tightly in his fist. He squeezed his eyes shut as the Prince dragged his tongue deeper, licking into his throat and showing no mercy for the man in his grasp. Pedro’s fingertip drew a line down his spine, down, until he was tightly grasping his ass through his breaches.
Claudio shivered, sinking closer and deeper into his Prince’s solid chest.With one quick motion, both of Pedro’s hands gripped at him, lifted him into his lap as flush and tight as possible. Heat coiled in his gut and it seemed to spread everywhere. He could feel Pedro’s own heat and desire pressed against him. It was becoming too much.
With an arm snaking around his waist and the other returned to cradle the Count’s head, Pedro twisted them around, and slowly lowered their bodies down until Claudio was led against the bench beneath him. It was too much, it was too-
Claudio ripped his head to the side, turning from the Prince, and took a deep gasp of air as if he’d been drowning. It felt like it; lost in pleasure and heat, melting into Pedro’s touch. Claudio squeezed his eyes shut, head turned and bare neck exposed to Pedro’s will, as he caught his breath and steeled himself. But no kisses or touch came and Claudio turned his hooded gaze back to his Prince. The man looked down at him, eyes but dark pools Claudio could lose himself in. But the Prince seemed hesitant now, still and anxious.
Oh god- had he taken his gasp for air as a recoil? Was he regretting this? Was it something he had done?
All thoughts were dashed from Claudio’s mind as a warm hand came up to caress his cheek, gently brushing his lips with the pad or his thumb.
“You are so beautiful,” Pedro whispered, as though it was a secret for only their ears. He was so close, had leaned down and over Claudio to really take him all in. Claudio stopped breathing. His eyes practically rolled back in his head and he lifted his hips to meet Pedro’s-
“My lord.” A yell came from outside the tent. The pair stilled and grew rigid. Claudio could do nothing but stare up at the Prince, panting, as icey dread ate at his chest.
“There is a message from the enemy-“ quickly the soldier added: “They talk of surrender.”
The next moments were a blur and all Claudio remembered of it, as he lay wrapped up in blankets and yet still cold in his own bed, listening to Benedick’s damn snoring, was how cold he felt. As though the sun had gone behind a cloud.
He ran a finger over his scorched lips, stared at the flickering light of the torch, as he got lost in his thoughts of his Prince. He wished only to soothe him, please him. The weight the Prince beared seemed to be unending, and it pained Claudio to feel so hopeless, unable to reach him or provide him comfort. But there had been a spark in Pedro, a glint in his eyes when he looked down at him, held tight and close in his arms. Claudio could hope, maybe, that he could be what the Prince wanted. Needed.
He had never had much luck with hoping.