The last few weeks had been tortuous. It wasn’t just like he could walk into the inner circle, up to the castle and ask to see Prince Aryn Stewart. So each passing day he did what he always did: worked. He worked, and if he had time, he sketched. The new charcoals felt amazing in his hand, and they glided across the paper like ice. But he couldn’t help but feel this twinge of sadness, almost anger, as he used them.

Maybe he really didn’t like me. Maybe he was just trying to be polite. Shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.

“Idiot…” he mumbled to himself.

“What was that, Son?”

The heat on his face from the forge snapped him back to reality, along with the gruff voice of his father.

“Nothing, Pa. Just forgot to fold the metal another time. Gotta reheat it now.”

A horribly loud sizzle rang in his ears as his father plunged his own steel into water. He had never been bothered by the normal sounds of the forge. At this point in his life they were usually nothing more than background noise, something he could zone out. But now everything seemed to be offensive, overwhelming.

“Have you ever felt exhausted? …Like your nerves are so frayed they feel on fire?”

“Well don’t keep forgetting or the metal’ll get brittle,” he pointed out.

He could hear the subtly patronizing tone in the veteran blacksmith’s voice. And he didn’t blame him. Lately his father found himself constantly reminding Percy of simple things he’d been taught ages ago, like he was regressing. Truth be told he was. Not because he couldn’t do it, but because he didn’t want to, and his mind was somewhere else a bit too often these days.

“I don’t feel so well. I think the heat’s getting to me. Do you mind if I take a break?” he murmured unconvincingly beneath the roar of the embers.

His father gave him a skeptical look before jerking his head to the side, silently giving him leave. Percy removed his smithing gear a bit too eagerly and left through the back door, towards the house. He didn’t realize why he had started to feel sick until he stared in the small cloudy mirror propped precariously on top of his dresser. Light lines parted the soot on his cheeks, reaching the corners of his mouth before something dripped off his chin.

He furrowed his brow first in confusion, then in anger. Strong hands forcefully wiped at his eyes and face before slamming down on the wood in front of him. A quiet rage built up in his chest, a sense of immense frustration he didn’t know what to do with.

“Fuck this,” he growled through clenched teeth.

He grabbed his satchel and flung it over his shoulder before storming out of the room back towards the forge. The door flew open a bit too aggressively with the winter wind, which caused his father to whirl on him with a rather astounded expression.

“Now what in the hell are you slamming my doors for, boy?” he interrogated, a glowing sword in hand.

“I’m done.”

His voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Done? What do you mean ‘done’? We still have orders to finish today,” he pointed out angrily.

“No. I’m done smithing.”

His father scoffed and plunged the metal into liquid, removed it, and crossed his muscular arms.

“Percy, don’t be ridiculous. You’re good at smithing. And someone needs to keep up the family business. Your brother can’t, he’s off at war. Be grateful he’s the elder and had to go, not you.”

He flung his hand out angrily. “Why should I have to? Why does everything about our family fall on my goddamn shoulders?”

“You will watch your tone with me, boy…”

“Why can’t Jory do it? He’s just as good at smithing as me, probably better. He’s not gonna be away forever. Besides, it’s like you said, he’s the elder of us. He’s getting all of this anyway, not me–”

“Which is why we need to find you a wife. And mind you, I’ve been shamelessly trying to convince any man worth his salt around here to consider marrying his daughter to you!”

An exacerbated breath left Percy’s chest. “I never asked you to do that! Just like I never asked to be your apprentice–”

“But you need to marry–”

“I DON’T WANT TO!”

A deafening silence filled the space as his voice had raised to its peak. Tears brimmed in his eyes as his face and neck turned red. Meanwhile his father was white as a ghost, eyes like cold stone, daring him to open his mouth again.

“I… I’m not like you, Pa. As much as you want me to be, I’m not,” he admitted quietly, his voice cracking as it proved difficult for him to take an even breath.

The expression on his face softened slightly, but it was a look of disappointment. “Go. We can talk about this later…”

With an embarrassed bow of his head, Percy slipped through the door back out into the cold winter’s day. Light snowflakes were beginning to fall and dust the ground, just as they had the day he came to call on him. He stood in the snow for a long while, staring at the ground, frozen. He felt utterly lost, adrift in a place of uncertainty. There was only one place he knew to go, and that was the tavern.

The whole time he worked he was in a haze. Everything seemed distant and trivial. He got lost in his thoughts, falling deeper and deeper into a dark hole of depressing possibilities. It was like nothing had meaning anymore.

He was my meaning. And that’s gone too.

“Percy?”

His emerald eyes rose from the bar to spot a ghost. Snowflakes dusted his hair like before, and his eyes seemed to melt from a blueish grey to the color of a lake upon entering the warm glow of the tavern. He thought he would be happy to see him, overjoyed even. But all he felt in that moment was anger.

“Aryn. What are you doing here?” he asked flatly, his brow furrowed.

He spotted the brief look of hurt confusion on the prince’s face. It oddly made him feel better.

“I… I wanted to see you.”

“Well, we’re about to close. So I don’t have much time unfortunately.”

His blue eyes blinked with subtle incredulity. He could see the underlying panic on his soft face.

“W-Well, can we go upstairs when you’re done cleaning up then? I was really wanting to talk to you...”

The tone of his voice was pleading, desperate, scared even. Percy selfishly hoped he was feeling even a modicum of the pain he’d been made to feel.

“I guess. But I have to get home at some point tonight,” he murmured disinterestedly.

Truth be told he found it harder and harder to keep up the uncaring facade. The hurt he could see on Aryn’s face filled his heart with contradicting emotions. On one hand, he was glad. On the other, the guilt was piercing through his chest like a well-sharpened dagger.

“Okay…”

So the prince waited. Percy could feel the unbearable tension in the air, noticed the way he avoided eye contact. He knew Aryn was feeling some sort of animosity aimed at him. It was also safe to say he could tell why, as a subtle flavor of guilt was clouding his eyes as well.

“Alright, I’m done. Let’s go.”

He grabbed a set of keys and took off upstairs, not looking back to see if Aryn was following. His heart was racing, blood rushing, his nerves on fire. His hands shook slightly as he unlocked the door and threw the keys on a nearby table, going to stand by the window so as to not have to look at the prince.

The door quietly clicked shut and locked behind him as a tense silence filled the room for a moment.

“I… wanted to see how you’re doing,” Aryn began. He could hear the nerves practically dripping from his voice.

“Well, my father is horribly upset with me, I haven’t been sleeping well, and my appetite is gone. How’s your pampered life been?” he asked back, venom in his words.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize you were having a hard time. Is something going on–”

He whirled on him, arms crossed. “Where were you?”

The prince stumbled over his words as they caught in his throat. “I-I… I wanted to see you. I really did. I was just–”

Percy scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Stop lying to me. Is this another house call because you feel sorry for me? How often should I expect you to come ‘round now, just for reference? A fortnight? A month?”

“Percy please, I’m sorry,” Aryn’s eyes grew starry with tears as he began to step forward, his arms hugged around himself.

“Do you know how miserable I’ve been without you?” he said loudly. “It’s cruel, what you did. You think you can just come into someone’s life, toy with them, and leave without an explanation?”

“No,” he exclaimed back, eyes wide with panic. “Percy I never meant to hurt you–”

“You don’t hurt me… You torture me, Aryn,” he stated quietly, voice shaking.

The prince’s mouth fell open slightly, a helpless look on his face as his chest heaved once with a heavy breath while searching for words.

“Percy I… I don’t understand.”

He turned back to the window, eyes stinging. “I think you should go...”

Silence fell over them once more, a far more definitive silence.

This was it. They were done.

He knew Aryn would never understand how he felt. No one would. It wasn’t normal. God truly was a cruel master, letting him finally find someone he thought was different, someone whom he’d found true friendship in, only for it all to be a lie. How could he have been so naive?

“No. I’m not going. Not until I tell you the truth.”

Percy scoffed and shook his head. “And what truth is that?”

“I didn’t come to see you for so long because… because I was afraid. I was afraid of exactly this after I told you what I’ve been wanting to.”

An invisible weight sank in his stomach as he turned to the prince, spotting the tears leaking from his blue eyes. He stepped closer to Aryn then, the space between them growing uncomfortably small as he towered over the boy.

“What did you want to tell me?”

He watched him struggle for words. He watched real fear grip at the prince’s insides as it choked him, an invisible hand held over his mouth. As much as he tried, the words couldn’t escape.

“Aryn, just tell me.”

His heart broke as he witnessed tears flow freely down the boy’s cheeks. He had only seen him cry like this once, when he’d woken still captured in a nightmare. His instincts were similar now as they were then. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold him, to stroke his hair and whisper words of reassurance in his ear. To kiss him on the head and tell him everything would be all right. But that was just it. He couldn’t. He never could.

“Aryn–”

The prince let out a breathy sob, his face twisting in pure frustration, as his delicate hands suddenly gripped his face. He was pulled downward slightly before Aryn’s lips crashed into his.

It felt as if the stars had exploded. The world was gone and all that was left was them, in this moment, together. His arms moved of their own accord to wrap tightly around Aryn’s waist, pulling him in as close as physically possible. The prince’s soft, delicate hands felt like silk on his face as each little touch spread radiant warmth across his skin. As he kissed him, he felt whole.

With their faces so close, he could feel the tears on Aryn’s cheeks. After a few moments of their embrace, he slowly pulled away, just enough to look into those blue eyes. His hands moved from his back to his porcelain face, gently wiping at the tears.

“Is this what you wanted to tell me?” he whispered as a grin spread across his lips.

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His efforts had proved futile as his words suddenly provoked another cascade of tears from the prince’s eyes, and yet a radiant smile took up his beautiful face as a sharp sigh escaped his lips.

Aryn nodded vigorously before closing the gap between them once more. This time Percy kissed him more confidently, more firmly. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than this. His thoughts had been consumed by one thing and one thing only for the past month, and he couldn’t believe that it turned out to be real.

His hands found their way to his feathery blonde hair, and they freely caressed and tangled themselves in it. Free. That was a good word to describe it. He felt free now. Since they’d met, it was like he had been restrained. He had never felt it more so than when they’d spent that night together. But now, as they embraced each other, the shackles had been shattered.

He found himself guiding them towards the bed and sat, gently gripping Aryn by the waist as one hand cradled the back of his head. His heart leapt, and he couldn’t help another grin growing on his face when the prince eagerly climbed onto him, his knees straddling either side. Then something he didn’t expect.

Laughter. They were laughing.

It became evident that he had never experienced joy like this. Neither of them had. The sheer happiness that bubbled up inside was nearly too much, and it escaped them as breathy chuckles and giggles through ridiculously giddy smiles, so much so that it was proving difficult to keep their lips on one another’s.

So instead he cupped Aryn’s face in his hands and looked upon him. The prince’s cheeks were rose-colored, his eyes shimmering in the dim candlelight with what could only be described as pure ecstasy. His face was softly featured, like some sort of angel you’d seen in a dream. And his smile was so incredibly beautiful. He was sure now he had never seen Aryn smile like this. Maybe a shy twitch of the lips here and there, but he’d never seen the prince so utterly happy. And to believe it was because of him…

Their giddiness slowly calmed as Percy pressed his forehead to his, both of them becoming more grounded as the moment passed.

“Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to hold you like this?” he whispered, surprised to feel his throat tightening slightly.

Aryn held his face as he sat atop his lap, their stomachs and chests pressed close together. “Too long?”

A breathy chuckle escaped Percy’s lips as he brushed a thumb across the prince’s cheekbone. “Too long…”

“Percy…”

“Yes?”

“I never finished telling you what I wanted to.”

He pulled back ever so slightly, just enough to take Aryn in. His hand instinctively continued to touch him, stroking his hair and touching his face. He simply couldn’t stop.

The look in the prince’s eyes changed, that nervousness coming back. But not the same kind as before. It was more of an excited nervousness, an anticipation. Overpowering all of that though was the longing that Percy saw in his deep blue irises.

“I realized this is what I wanted, well… because of someone else. They showed me what it was I physically wanted, and they gave me the guts to finally show you how I feel. But… this isn’t all that I want from you. I want you, yes. I want to touch you, and kiss you, and I want you to hold me and embrace me and… make love to me, eventually.

“But I want you. I want to be with you. Because no one has ever made me feel the way you do. I’ve never felt so wanted, so understood… I have felt so alone my whole life. And after my mum died, I genuinely didn’t think that I belonged in this world. I almost left it. And that was when I met you. That night… I was planning to die. No one wanted me. I had no purpose. And I just so happened to stumble into that tavern.

“You saved me, Percy. You made me realize that I meant something. And that night we spent together… That's when I knew it was you. I didn’t understand what it meant yet, but my heart did. So I want to be with you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Tears came again, but this time they ran from his own eyes, not the prince’s. He gripped Aryn’s face as he shook his own head.

“First of all. Don’t you ever say those things about yourself again, Aryn Stewart. I want you. And you are my purpose. I realized that today. I couldn’t stand being in that forge a second longer. Nothing felt right while you were gone. I was a goddamn mess. All I could think about since the moment I met you, was you.”

He tenderly pressed their lips together, his quivering slightly. They brushed against one another’s as he spoke.

“Being with you is the only thing I want.”

Smaller, softer hands placed themselves over his as Aryn slid his palms down towards Percy’s wrists, wrapping around them gently. The prince guided his hands down towards his chest where the laces of his shirt rested. Without a word, Percy slowly and carefully began loosening them, glancing back and forth between his work and Aryn’s eyes. Once they’d been undone, he leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on the prince’s collarbone, then the other side, then one lower on his chest before sitting up again to where their faces met.

“I thought you were going to kiss me that night,” Aryn murmured softly.

“Believe me, I wanted to,” he whispered back, their lips brushing.

He found his hands caressing the prince’s sides until they had slid their way down to his waist, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt impatiently.

“What do you want now?”

Aryn touched his face, his neck, his hair… And slowly this fire inside of him grew hotter and hotter. His hands gripped the prince’s waist tightly, feeling his skin and the warmth radiating from him.

“You. I just want all of you.”

As if in silent permission, Aryn squeezed the hands that gripped him, around his waist and by the hem of his shirt. Stifling his want, his need, he slowly and gently lifted Aryn’s shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floor. He leaned back slightly so as to look upon him better.

He was thin, his porcelain skin stuck tightly to his ribs. And yet there was a softness to him, an opposition to the harsh contours created by his bones. A dark freckle occupied the left side of his chest, just under his collarbone, as well as a few others sprinkled along his arms. The hair on his arms was a cool, light brown, and it was hard to see unless the light was angled the right way. His chest was smooth, as well as most of his stomach save a small patch of light brown that began slightly below his belly button, trailing downward.

His hands moved of their own accord as he ran them over the prince’s shoulders, then slowly down his chest and around to his back. He pulled Aryn towards him, placing a featherlight kiss on the freckle by his collarbone. Smaller, delicate hands worked their way gently into his curly hair as Aryn’s chest heaved subtly beneath his lips.

Thoughts ran through his mind, images of desire flashing as he moved one hand to the prince’s stomach. He felt Aryn’s travel down and come to rest at the hem of his own shirt.

“I want to see you…” he whispered, his soft voice sending a wave of longing through him.

He looked up to lock eyes as he slowly lifted his arms overhead. Their gaze was briefly interrupted by a curtain of fabric before Aryn tossed it carelessly to the floor. The prince’s blue irises glazed over as Percy patiently watched him explore his body.

Soft hands came to rest on his collarbone, fingertips slowly gliding over the prominence and towards his broad shoulders, then down his arm. His own skin was a stark contrast to the young man’s before him. Though not excessively so, his chest was occupied by dark brown hair. A few faded scars dotted his chest and stomach from his younger years, as well as far more recent burn marks peppering his forearms. And he was tan, as most common folk were. The prince’s fingers came to rest on one of the scars on his chest.

“What’s this from?” he asked softly, a small smile on his pink lips.

“Ah, I think I was about… thirteen at the time? This group of shitheads were picking on a boy, had shoved him into a puddle of waste in the gutters, for God’s sake. He was so small… it made me so angry. So I went and picked a fight with three boys bigger than me and, well… I definitely got what I was asking for.”

“Did they stab you?” he asked incredulously.

“Nah, one slashed at me with a whittling knife before I knocked his teeth out,” he said with a smirk.

They both chuckled breathily, Aryn biting his lip through a smile. “You’ve always had a soft spot for the little guys, huh?”

“You could say that,” he murmured cheekily, glancing back up at the prince before he placed a kiss on his stomach.

“Was your father mad?”

“He pretended like he was, gave me a good lashing in front of the boy’s father. But afterwards he told me, ‘don’t stop sticking up for those who can’t stick up for themselves just because you might get your hands dirty’. And that stuck with me.”

A sad smile spread across Aryn’s face as he ran a hand through his curls. “He seems like a great father.”

Percy’s chest tightened in that moment, and he found himself holding the prince’s face. “Do not let your father belittle you, Aryn. You are so much more than he says you are.”

Aryn’s lashes fluttered as he glanced downward, swallowing with emotion. “I don’t feel like I am.”

“You are to me.”

The prince lifted his eyes to his, an aura of intimacy entering them. He brushed a thumb over Aryn’s cheek before pulling him closer by the small of his back. Their lips met, and an ember was quickly stoked once more within him.

This young man, this prince, this devastatingly beautiful boy… he wanted nothing so badly than to make him feel wanted, to make him feel worthy.

He felt Aryn wrap his arms around his shoulders and responded by tangling his hand in the back of his ashen hair. Despite the dry cold, his lips were soft, as if they were made of the finest silk. They brushed and glided against his own with ease, but he no longer wished to tread lightly on that beautiful terrain. He deepened the kiss, tightening his grip as his tongue teased at the gates of Aryn’s mouth. The prince eagerly parted for him as he trailed his delicate hands down Percy’s body, feeling the ridges and valleys of his muscled form.

An ache began to creep into him, deep in his stomach. Their tongues danced together timidly, and the hesitancy only fueled that ache more. He found his hands reaching for the laces on Aryn’s breeches, brushing his fingertips over them in request.

“Is this okay?” he whispered lowly, retreating just enough to where their lips still brushed one another’s.

“Yes,” he whispered back, an overwhelming sense of longing in the prince’s voice as his breath tickled Percy’s face.

Slowly, he began to loosen the laces, letting his fingers linger and explore as he did so. He trailed his lips down Aryn’s neck, then to his collarbone, back to that freckle, then his chest. Once the laces had been thoroughly untied, he gripped the prince and stood, gently flipping him onto his back. He placed a line of kisses down his stomach, then dared to brush his lips across the growing bulge in Aryn’s breeches before slowly sliding them down off of his hips. The fabric fell to the floor, leaving him only in a thin pair of undergarments.

The prince’s skin had become warm and flushed, and a very subtle trembling had begun in his core. Percy could feel it as he placed a strong hand on his hip bone, tucking his thumb into the waistband of those undergarments.

“I want to see all of you.”

Aryn proceeded to sit up on his elbows, creating small folds in his stomach. They locked eyes, and, to Percy’s surprise, the look in the other boy’s appeared nervous, almost guilty.

“I… I don’t think you do.”

“Of course I do. Aryn, I want you, whatever that looks like.”

His throat bobbed as that trembling intensified. But the prince nodded with permission and hesitantly lifted his hips. Percy slid his undergarments down almost agonizingly slow, admiring every small inch that was revealed until he pulled them from his ankles and let them drop to the floor.

As he gazed upon his legs, his hips… several uniform scars lined the insides of his thighs. He knew Aryn saw him staring, as his chest began to heave and his breath became shaky. Gingerly, he climbed back onto the bed, between the prince’s legs. He let his hands explore, gently gliding them over one leg, then the hip, across the stomach, to the other hip, and finally down the opposite thigh. His fingers came to rest upon those scars as he ever so delicately traced them with his fingertips.

Then he leaned down and began softly placing kisses to them.

“Percy…”

Aryn’s voice shook and broke at the whisper of his name. His heart ached as he moved to the other thigh, firmly gripping his hip, and thoroughly covered the scars on that side as well. He could feel Aryn shake and lurch subtly, sucking in a sharp breath every now and again. The sheets shifted underneath him as he could hear the sound of fabric being balled up.

He brushed his lips across Aryn’s leg to his hip, then his lower stomach, before raising his head. The boy was staring up at the ceiling, tears streaming down the sides of his cheeks, fists clenched into the bedsheets.

“Aryn…”

The prince sucked in another sharp breath before shakily blowing out through pursed lips.

“Aryn, look at me.”

He did so hesitantly.

“You are beautiful.”

His blue eyes squinted shut as he shook with a sob. Percy quickly moved up his body, hips resting against one another’s as he grasped Aryn’s face.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You don’t mean that…” he whispered through falling tears.

It was enough to make his heart shatter.

“Yes, I do. I would fall on my knees for you, Aryn Stewart. You are everything that I want and more. When I go to sleep, I see your face. I see your deep blue eyes and that unbearably sweet smile… your beautiful blonde hair that I just want to run my hands through while I hold you. I see the face of an angel when I close my eyes, and that face is yours. I hear your adorable laugh, and I feel your perfect body in my hands, as if it was made to fit in them. I look at you, and it sets me on fire. When you weren’t here, I longed for you so horribly that it physically hurt.

“So yes, I do mean it when I say you are the most beautiful, most perfect, breathtaking thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes upon.”

Another tear found its way out of Aryn’s eyes as his lips trembled. But instead of words being formed on those lips, they collided with his own, desperately and passionately. He sank his hips into his, pressing their bodies together until there was no space to breathe. This time it was Aryn’s tongue that begged for entry, and he immediately obliged. The ember had now been stoked to a raging flame, only quenchable by one thing and one thing only.

Clumsily he began unlacing his own breeches with one hand, bracing against the bed with the other. He got about halfway before a smaller pair of hands shooed his away, finishing the work for him. He slid away from Aryn for but a moment to allow his pants to drop to the floor and feverishly remove his undergarments before climbing back on top of him. Lips reconnected as different parts did for the first time.

He felt Aryn shudder underneath him as they exchanged breath. His hand roamed up and down the prince’s body as his hips slowly and deeply grinded against his. The ache within him had turned into an all-consuming throbbing. His stomach clenched and his abs trembled as Aryn moaned into his mouth. The prince’s back arched slightly, and his legs fell open for him.

He trailed his hand down until it reached its target, wrapping his hand around Aryn and stroking in rhythm with his own hips. A noise escaped him that nearly made Percy feral. He shoved his tongue into Aryn’s mouth, needing more. Nails raked down his back, and it took everything in him not to just take the prince then and there. His hips moved faster, harder, and his hand followed suit. Aryn’s breaths became more and more shallow, until he could not help them being any more than soft cries of need. It drove him absolutely mad.

“God, Aryn,” he moaned against his lips.

“Take me,” Aryn whispered back, overwhelming desire in his voice.

He slowed his hips but deepened their pressure, eliciting another maddening noise from the prince. “Aryn…”

“Please.” A soft hand suddenly grasped him now, stroking him. “I want you, so bad it hurts.”

An involuntary moan escaped his lips. “You have me.”

Unbearable tightness was quickly growing low in his stomach, and he now pumped his hips into Aryn’s hand. His own hand worked faster as he trailed his lips down to Aryn’s shoulder, biting down. The prince moaned loudly.

“Percy.”

There was a sense of urgency in his voice that had not been there before as he whimpered into his ear. Percy pulled back to look into his face as Aryn’s breath began catching, his mouth dropping open slightly. He pressed his forehead tightly against the prince’s, his hand and hips unrelenting, as Aryn began bucking into him. The prince shuddered as his voice caught in his throat for a moment, before letting out a trembling moan, broken up by gasps of pleasure as he came. Percy felt that tightness travel downward as they locked gazes, and not long behind Aryn did he give in to release. His supporting arm shook and his abs clenched as he arrived, a noise escaping from him he had never heard himself make before.

He rode out the wave, slowly and deeply grinding his hips against Aryn, planting his other hand on the bed as his good arm was about to give out. He felt the prince’s hands grip him from behind, pulling him even closer as they began to come down. Percy slowly connected their mouths, gently biting the prince’s bottom lip as they both breathed heavily. Eventually, they caught their breaths, and as his mind began to clear, Percy pulled back to look at him.

His face was flushed, and his ashen hair stuck to his forehead. Those blue eyes were hazed with a deep desire, but at the same time they had such clarity in them. He lifted a hand to gently brush the hair from his face before caressing his blushed cheek.

“Do you believe me now?” he asked breathlessly, letting out a chuckle.

Aryn laughed back just as breathless before running a hand down his damp chest. “I don’t know, I think I need more convincing.”

Percy couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face before he laughed once more.

“We should get cleaned up,” he stated softly, placing a gentle kiss to Aryn’s forehead.

“Yes, we should.”

A shy smile grew on the prince’s face as he took in the state of them. He didn’t think Aryn’s cheeks could get any redder. Carefully, he removed himself from the prince and collected his pants from the floor.

“Alright uh, I’ll head to the washroom first, let you catch your breath. Probably shouldn’t head there together,” he pointed out with an awkward chuckle.

A sense of reality came back to Aryn’s face as he nodded once. “Right... I’ll just wait for you to come back, then I’ll go.”

“You sure? I can wait, I’d rather let you go first,” he insisted, referencing the state of disarray the prince’s stomach was in with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Color continued to rise on Aryn’s cheeks.

“Actually yeah. I’ll be quick,” he added shyly as he gingerly slid himself off the bed, careful to preserve the sheets.

He fumbled with his pants, hopping from one leg to the other, before carefully opening the door. His ashen hair swayed as he looked back and forth to make sure no one was in the hallway before he quickly and quietly slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Percy plopped himself down into a chair and ran a hand through his damp hair, his arm fatigued, as he stared at the door. He allowed himself to finally take a deep breath, and he was surprised when a tightness formed in his chest. His vision grew slightly blurry, and for the first time in his life, as he stared up at the ceiling with his hands on his head, he allowed himself to feel completely.