[ He imagined something like this would be inevitable. Then Petre imagined Aegon going to someone else, though he couldn't say who, and pretended that it wouldn't get under his skin.
When the message finally comes, the short spike of adrenaline turns into relief. ]
[ He needs a different kind of stress relief now, one he knew Petre was more than willing to provide. The wine wasn't halting his downward spiral fast enough. Unchecked, he fears he would end up doing something he'd regret. His feet move almost instinctively, they were leading him to his friend's side before he even realized what he was doing, reaching out more of a heads up than any actual ask. In him, he finds an escape, just as he does in wine and used to in brothels, among other things, and he no longer punishes himself for asking for it. When he arrives, it feels as though his mouth finds Petre's faster than ever before, all sharp teeth and claws and desperation.
Later, with limbs loosely draped around him, monster sufficiently tamed, he finds himself watching himโ the gentle rise and fall of Petre's chest, the steadying rhythm of his breathing. In this brief moment of calm, he cannot help but wonder why everything wasn't always this easy. Aegon props himself up on his elbow, ducking his head down to claim a kiss, teeth dragging over his lower lip as he pulls back to lean over Petre, feeling around for the wine bottle he'd left on the floor. ]
[ Aegon wouldn't have needed to knock even if Petre hadn't heard his steps and opened the door to pull him inside by his shirt, kissing him hard, mouth busy to taste any part of the other man's body while Aegon took care of the bottle and got rid of his clothes. Petre has always been prodigiously easy to arouse, but seeing Aegon's nails turn into claws, skin glowing red, fangs made to pierce skin, charged Petre enough to think he could've changed at any moment, too, two monsters making a mess of themselves and this room, either to be appeased or become more and more insatiable through the night. He remembers exactly how voracious Aegon was when he last lost control, and nobody can prove to a jury that he's jerked off to it.
He stayed human. Now blood is staining his skin where Aegon ripped it, the last handful of gashes already healing by the time they're done. Eyes closed, satisfaction on his lips, Petre shrugs and relaxes to stretch his muscles, languorous and exceedingly pleased with himself under the weight of Aegon's limbs. Fingers toy with his hand, head angled. Petre sighs into the kiss and waits.
He might have gone somewhere if Aegon hadn't reached out, because Petre grabs any excuse to avoid staying in a room filled with Dez's and Sombra's clutter for too long, but he still refuses to give any of their shit away. This is the same guy who will laugh at accusations of being ""sentimental"", just like he waved Iggy off when he asked whether he and Aegon were a ""thing"", like the question itself is a noisy bug that needs to be swatted at until it buzzes somewhere else.
This is also the same guy who makes up scenarios where he's not the one Aegon turns to (disclaimer: still bros before hoes), none of which are pleasant. Nothing has incited him to break into Aegon's room to demand his company, a boundary Wesley didn't get to establish when Petre did it to him. Tempting as it's been at times, maybe the reason he's held off is because he can't actually guarantee Aegon wouldn't break ties after. Which would then be everybody's problem.
Fingers run through platinum blond hair, massaging lightly. Sombra and Dez always wanted him to sleep in this bed so they'd be warm through the winter. He could see himself doing the same for Aegon. ]
Of course you can.
[ Soon as Aegon catches the bottle, Petre leans up to catch his neck with his lips. Normally Petre would be a good boy and avoid acknowledging anything marginally personal between them, but Aegon didn't just walk in for sex and Petre didn't just make good on fucking his brains out โ this was a man who was starting to transform, so something had to trigger him. And he doubts it was that stupid fucking diagram.
[ Anyone else would be dead, or on the verge of. Knowing what Petre could endure, he didn't bother putting energy into holding back after being encouraged to bear no guilt for the first timeโ he still didn't want to make a habit of it. Twice now in as many months. He'd be happy to never have it happen again. It was fortunate that Petre could find joy in it, but for Aegon, it felt like a nightmare.
Aside from the blood left behind, there was hardly any evidence of the violence that was such a sharp contrast to the affection Petre was giving him now. This gradually increasing need to be touching him, even when their clothes weren't off, that he'd be willfully ignorant about for as long as possible. Now it helped ease the ache of his limbs, soothe a pain he didn't quite know how to describe. What was the point in drawing any more attention to it? He tried once before and was met with instant regret.
Aegon slowly exhales, his eyes drifting shut for the briefest of moments as he savors the sensation of Petre's fingers tracing along his scalp. His hand moves to grasp the bottle of wine, bring it to his lips, but he hesitates, feeling the warmth of Petre's breath against his skin. Tilting his head slightly, he welcomes it, wants more of it, setting the bottle aside in his lap. The drink could wait.
Sex had always been a transaction for Aegon, a means to an end, and only recently had he begun to associate intimacy with it, and even then only with one person. Afterward, he never lingered, never indulged in "pillow talk" or shared soft kisses that he now finds himself unwilling to shy away from. He likes being in Petre's company so much he doesn't think he'd ever rushed out afterward. The realization makes him uncomfortable. How many other people does he treat this way? The taste of jealousy was sour and unfamiliar on his tongue.
Petre's question catches him slightly off guard, knocking him out of his head, and he doesn't know if he wants to answer. Tell him and what... discuss feelings? Feelings were not their usual lighthearted conversation topic. Until now they'd gone to each other for comfort and never talked much about why. Petre was literally the only one he could confide in about this, but this was the sort of thing he normally kept bottled up or convinced himself he didn't care about anymore as he drowned in whores and wine (or worse). He hasn't had enough time to really process it, either, and the thought of it again now makes his stomach churn, his discomfort visible on his face.
Aegon turns his head, his hand reaching to gently cup the side of Petre's face as he kisses him again. His brow furrows when he draws away. ] What, do you truly wish to know? There's no need to feel obliged to ask.
[ He's chewing the inside of his cheek, watching Aegon to catch something โ anything โ in his expression, head back down on the bed while he waits. The compulsion to make light of this is absent, a smile barely visible on the corners of his lips when they meet Aegon's. The sharp rise in his chest escapes with an exhale, the hand on Petre's cheek washing any inclination to tease Aegon or mock himself away. ]
Don't you worry about that.
[ The beginnings of levity to soften whatever Aegon is trying to pull away from before he drowns it in wine. Petre is rarely (if ever) obliged to do anything, and he's only helpful by accident or because he wants to be.
Shields still went up when he and his former roommates so much as looked over the edge of vulnerability, though. Whatever links him to Wesley is rooted in a trick of the mind. All traces of what he went through with Aegon are real but have been undone, including the gashes and bitemarks his body has already sealed, nothing but blood and ruined sheets now. ]
Was it Aemond?
[ He turns on his side, humor gone, leans in to stay close in case Aegon pulls away. Aemond's disappearance had pushed that monster to the surface last time. Petre knows what the prince tastes like and he thinks he knows when he's suffocating Aegon's thoughts, because they're the same tells Petre couldn't hide when Caleb had a hold on him.
Projection or not, he's chasing after that theory the same way he sometimes wished Vaerqui would, but all she did was order him to solve his problems by making them disappear. ]
[ He lets out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as if the weight of being understood so easily burdens him. Not much of a surprise, considering Petre had all the information to easily do so. It was a stark reminder of the power Aemond held over him, another witness to his brother's influence, another person who could see through the facade he so desperately tried to maintain. He constantly flip-flopped on how he felt about Petre knowing at all, this is one of those times that he wishes he didn't. In this moment, Aegon feels exposed, vulnerable, as if Petre's insight had stripped away the layers of his carefully constructed defenses. (Those crumbled the second he reached out to him, didn't they?)
Yet, Petre serving now as his source of comfort, Aegon doesn't try to escape his attention, or his questions, or try to distract from this entirely with his mouth or the fingers ghosting over Petre's skin. It would be easy to crawl out of bed and find a hole to hide in instead, just as he had done for half his life. But this time, something held him back, some flicker of determination or perhaps just exhaustion from running away for so long. ]
It was Aemond.
[ His frown deepens. Aegon scoots himself a bit closer, snaking his arm tight around Petre, as if his warmth was enough to persuade him to stay. It's still hard to look at him, his violet eyes darting away to trace over Petre's skin where the wounds he'd left were now long gone, leaving only memories etched into the flesh. ]
I believe it was inevitable that we'd hurt each other, but I didn't anticipate him doing something that cuts this deeply.
[ On any other occasion, Petre might have taken satisfaction from being right, knowing that he could still read people and use that against them or in his favor. None of that is on his mind, though. All he cares about is what's right in front of them โ two possible paths, where in one of them Petre helps Aegon keep the pain at bay for a few more hours, and in the other he lets him face it head-on. ]
You don't have to say anything. [ There's no need for it when they can just use their curse, a mark he and Aegon share as Diabel. He rests his hand on Aegon's side in return, presses his fingers lightly. They're as warm as the rest of his body. ] Show it to me.
[ Show it? It looks like standard jealousy if you take away all the nuances of his familial relationships, and he wasn't sure how deep into that he really wants to go with Petre. Or anyone, really! Had they ever talked about Rhaenyra before- he honestly cannot remember. He'd still prefer if his friend knew nothing, he didn't want to have to think about Aemond anymore, and now he was having to dive back into it. This was asking a lot of him when all he wants to do now was finish the bottle he brought and use Petre like a body pillow when he passes out.
Aegon replays a snippet of the conversation they had anyway, cutting it off before he asks about Kovacsโ wasn't relevant. As soon as he does it, he has to resist the urge to peel away from Petre, deciding he's uncomfortable with all of this after all. This was supposed to be his "think about nothing" friend, all laughter and booze and dumb chaos. What the fuck were they now?
His discomfort comes out in a hollow chuckle, and he reaches behind him to find where that bottle had rolled off to. ]
[ It's more than enough. Petre's gaze drifts, silent, no need to ask about Rhaenyra or why her involvement was a breach of Aegon's trust. He imagines how everything must have felt so distorted during and after instead, and like he knows the urge to withdraw is closing in, squeezes lightly to signal that he doesn't want that. It's easy to understand, though. When people stop pretending and things become permanent, it's better to either cut them off or leave them behind.
Lips brush Aegon's neck when he gets the chance. Petre can feel the blood rushing with each heartbeat, faster than when they're resting, maybe more intense than when he's about to come. For the first time, he wants to talk about Caleb. He probably won't. ]
[ He had been about to sit up, discover how much alcohol he could gulp in one go, when Petre's lips found his skin. Like he'd known he was thinking about straying. He chooses to embrace it, fingers unwinding from the neck of the bottle to return to his companion, ignoring what it means as he seeks a different sort of intoxication from such unwarranted affection. Enveloped in his warmth now, soothing the aches left behind by their monstrous tussle and his brother, Aegon decides he doesn't want Petre to be this way with anyone else. Morning Aegon may very well think differently, when he slips out of his arms and doesn't look back on his way out.
He waits for him to continue, his hand caressing the back of Petre's head, fingertips combing through his hair before they move over his shoulders, along his spine. He doesn't, so: ] I wish, then it'd finish me off, and I wouldn't have to endure the next few days.
[ An uncomfortable shift in his expression where he can't be seen, Petre lies still for a while, gaze empty. Even if Aegon doesn't mean it and forgets what he just said later, the thought of it still pulls sharp strings that could trigger a jagged trap in Petre's chest. There haven't been many times he's dealt with abandonment, and he thinks death is that, in a way. Like Petre is right here as Aegon tells him he wouldn't mind leaving him behind. A selfish monster that overlooks Aegon's pain is reminded of the last time he wanted someone to hold him, only for that person to reject him instead.
He's always liked fingers in his hair. Did he ever tell Aegon that? ]
We could always just fuck off.
[ No king for the tourney, no star for the play. What a scandal. ]
I rather enjoy being the center of attention, [ The real reason he won't fuck off is he has no desire to sabotage the work his family has done. It wouldn't stop him from misbehaving, but he'll at least be present, do his part. ] and I wouldn't want you to miss your debut.
[ That he's certain his mother will hate, so it's important he be there. Should Aegon warn him that she's no longer willfully oblivious to what they get up to now? ... No! He tucks himself in closer to Petre, eyes closing as his fingertips continue ghosting over his skin. ]
You may whisk me into tents in between my tasks if you'd like.
[ A sympathetic sigh. Petre has also been looking forward to being the center of attention โ when isn't he? โ and it'd be a shame to not see how the audience will react. Not to mention he'd be letting the rest of the cast down (or doing them a favor, depending on one's point of view).
Apparently Aegon had the ability to make him forget that. Cool cool.
He leans in, steals a kiss that lingers just so he can forget for a while longer. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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When the message finally comes, the short spike of adrenaline turns into relief. ]
not a problem
your place or mine?
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i didn't think you'd refuse so i'm already on my way
[ Petre is the first person he thought of! ]
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[ Saying no to Aegon, impossible challenge. ]
i got us the weed btw
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[ He needs a different kind of stress relief now, one he knew Petre was more than willing to provide. The wine wasn't halting his downward spiral fast enough. Unchecked, he fears he would end up doing something he'd regret. His feet move almost instinctively, they were leading him to his friend's side before he even realized what he was doing, reaching out more of a heads up than any actual ask. In him, he finds an escape, just as he does in wine and used to in brothels, among other things, and he no longer punishes himself for asking for it. When he arrives, it feels as though his mouth finds Petre's faster than ever before, all sharp teeth and claws and desperation.
Later, with limbs loosely draped around him, monster sufficiently tamed, he finds himself watching himโ the gentle rise and fall of Petre's chest, the steadying rhythm of his breathing. In this brief moment of calm, he cannot help but wonder why everything wasn't always this easy. Aegon props himself up on his elbow, ducking his head down to claim a kiss, teeth dragging over his lower lip as he pulls back to lean over Petre, feeling around for the wine bottle he'd left on the floor. ]
May I sleep here for a few days?
drops a tl;dr bomb, disappears into the night
He stayed human. Now blood is staining his skin where Aegon ripped it, the last handful of gashes already healing by the time they're done. Eyes closed, satisfaction on his lips, Petre shrugs and relaxes to stretch his muscles, languorous and exceedingly pleased with himself under the weight of Aegon's limbs. Fingers toy with his hand, head angled. Petre sighs into the kiss and waits.
He might have gone somewhere if Aegon hadn't reached out, because Petre grabs any excuse to avoid staying in a room filled with Dez's and Sombra's clutter for too long, but he still refuses to give any of their shit away. This is the same guy who will laugh at accusations of being ""sentimental"", just like he waved Iggy off when he asked whether he and Aegon were a ""thing"", like the question itself is a noisy bug that needs to be swatted at until it buzzes somewhere else.
This is also the same guy who makes up scenarios where he's not the one Aegon turns to (disclaimer: still bros before hoes), none of which are pleasant. Nothing has incited him to break into Aegon's room to demand his company, a boundary Wesley didn't get to establish when Petre did it to him. Tempting as it's been at times, maybe the reason he's held off is because he can't actually guarantee Aegon wouldn't break ties after. Which would then be everybody's problem.
Fingers run through platinum blond hair, massaging lightly. Sombra and Dez always wanted him to sleep in this bed so they'd be warm through the winter. He could see himself doing the same for Aegon. ]
Of course you can.
[ Soon as Aegon catches the bottle, Petre leans up to catch his neck with his lips. Normally Petre would be a good boy and avoid acknowledging anything marginally personal between them, but Aegon didn't just walk in for sex and Petre didn't just make good on fucking his brains out โ this was a man who was starting to transform, so something had to trigger him. And he doubts it was that stupid fucking diagram.
Fine. He'll give in. ]
Are you gonna tell me what happened?
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Aside from the blood left behind, there was hardly any evidence of the violence that was such a sharp contrast to the affection Petre was giving him now. This gradually increasing need to be touching him, even when their clothes weren't off, that he'd be willfully ignorant about for as long as possible. Now it helped ease the ache of his limbs, soothe a pain he didn't quite know how to describe. What was the point in drawing any more attention to it? He tried once before and was met with instant regret.
Aegon slowly exhales, his eyes drifting shut for the briefest of moments as he savors the sensation of Petre's fingers tracing along his scalp. His hand moves to grasp the bottle of wine, bring it to his lips, but he hesitates, feeling the warmth of Petre's breath against his skin. Tilting his head slightly, he welcomes it, wants more of it, setting the bottle aside in his lap. The drink could wait.
Sex had always been a transaction for Aegon, a means to an end, and only recently had he begun to associate intimacy with it, and even then only with one person. Afterward, he never lingered, never indulged in "pillow talk" or shared soft kisses that he now finds himself unwilling to shy away from. He likes being in Petre's company so much he doesn't think he'd ever rushed out afterward. The realization makes him uncomfortable. How many other people does he treat this way? The taste of jealousy was sour and unfamiliar on his tongue.
Petre's question catches him slightly off guard, knocking him out of his head, and he doesn't know if he wants to answer. Tell him and what... discuss feelings? Feelings were not their usual lighthearted conversation topic. Until now they'd gone to each other for comfort and never talked much about why. Petre was literally the only one he could confide in about this, but this was the sort of thing he normally kept bottled up or convinced himself he didn't care about anymore as he drowned in whores and wine (or worse). He hasn't had enough time to really process it, either, and the thought of it again now makes his stomach churn, his discomfort visible on his face.
Aegon turns his head, his hand reaching to gently cup the side of Petre's face as he kisses him again. His brow furrows when he draws away. ] What, do you truly wish to know? There's no need to feel obliged to ask.
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Don't you worry about that.
[ The beginnings of levity to soften whatever Aegon is trying to pull away from before he drowns it in wine. Petre is rarely (if ever) obliged to do anything, and he's only helpful by accident or because he wants to be.
Shields still went up when he and his former roommates so much as looked over the edge of vulnerability, though. Whatever links him to Wesley is rooted in a trick of the mind. All traces of what he went through with Aegon are real but have been undone, including the gashes and bitemarks his body has already sealed, nothing but blood and ruined sheets now. ]
Was it Aemond?
[ He turns on his side, humor gone, leans in to stay close in case Aegon pulls away. Aemond's disappearance had pushed that monster to the surface last time. Petre knows what the prince tastes like and he thinks he knows when he's suffocating Aegon's thoughts, because they're the same tells Petre couldn't hide when Caleb had a hold on him.
Projection or not, he's chasing after that theory the same way he sometimes wished Vaerqui would, but all she did was order him to solve his problems by making them disappear. ]
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Yet, Petre serving now as his source of comfort, Aegon doesn't try to escape his attention, or his questions, or try to distract from this entirely with his mouth or the fingers ghosting over Petre's skin. It would be easy to crawl out of bed and find a hole to hide in instead, just as he had done for half his life. But this time, something held him back, some flicker of determination or perhaps just exhaustion from running away for so long. ]
It was Aemond.
[ His frown deepens. Aegon scoots himself a bit closer, snaking his arm tight around Petre, as if his warmth was enough to persuade him to stay. It's still hard to look at him, his violet eyes darting away to trace over Petre's skin where the wounds he'd left were now long gone, leaving only memories etched into the flesh. ]
I believe it was inevitable that we'd hurt each other, but I didn't anticipate him doing something that cuts this deeply.
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You don't have to say anything. [ There's no need for it when they can just use their curse, a mark he and Aegon share as Diabel. He rests his hand on Aegon's side in return, presses his fingers lightly. They're as warm as the rest of his body. ] Show it to me.
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Aegon replays a snippet of the conversation they had anyway, cutting it off before he asks about Kovacsโ wasn't relevant. As soon as he does it, he has to resist the urge to peel away from Petre, deciding he's uncomfortable with all of this after all. This was supposed to be his "think about nothing" friend, all laughter and booze and dumb chaos. What the fuck were they now?
His discomfort comes out in a hollow chuckle, and he reaches behind him to find where that bottle had rolled off to. ]
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Lips brush Aegon's neck when he gets the chance. Petre can feel the blood rushing with each heartbeat, faster than when they're resting, maybe more intense than when he's about to come. For the first time, he wants to talk about Caleb. He probably won't. ]
It's like poison.
[ A murmur. ]
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He waits for him to continue, his hand caressing the back of Petre's head, fingertips combing through his hair before they move over his shoulders, along his spine. He doesn't, so: ] I wish, then it'd finish me off, and I wouldn't have to endure the next few days.
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He's always liked fingers in his hair. Did he ever tell Aegon that? ]
We could always just fuck off.
[ No king for the tourney, no star for the play. What a scandal. ]
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[ That he's certain his mother will hate, so it's important he be there. Should Aegon warn him that she's no longer willfully oblivious to what they get up to now? ... No! He tucks himself in closer to Petre, eyes closing as his fingertips continue ghosting over his skin. ]
You may whisk me into tents in between my tasks if you'd like.
๐?
Apparently Aegon had the ability to make him forget that. Cool cool.
He leans in, steals a kiss that lingers just so he can forget for a while longer. ]
You got it.