Work Text:
There are a great many things about Osora that have changed over the years, but they have always been a late riser. Arias wakes before the sun, stumbles into the restroom, and then shuffles back to bed all without the prince moving an inch. When Arias moves in to press a kiss to his partner's head, Osora's nose crinkles a little before their face relaxes again. Arias leans back, head supported by one arm, and takes the moment to watch as Osora's features sharpen in the rising daylight.
Ever since they were children, Osora's brows have furrowed in the center of their face, the most vivid representation of the stress the prince has been under their entire life. A crease has made itself at home in the skin there, but in sleep, Arias can see where the deliberate pinching has relaxed their expression into one of peacefulness. Arias smiles gently to himself and takes a moment to brush a lock of light hair away from Osora’s thick brows.
In the past few years, Osora's hair has grown longer at different points in time, but it has never stayed that way beyond a single thin tail behind their ear; it is braided, twisted and tied with a shimmery teal string that Catalina gifted the prince on some occasion. It is Osora's promise to the princess that their friendship is important and that she will always have a place in Osora's heart. Despite Arias' initial discomfort with the princess' near obsession with his partner, they have grown close over the years, sharing stories and observing Osora from across banquet halls, giggling about their prince's horrible poker face and clumsiness; Arias rests easy these days, knowing that Osora has a true friend in Catalina. He lets his eyes continue a path around the prince's features, trailing from the messy bedhead laying across the pillows, to the light peach fuzz growing along their jaw and down their neck, down the length of the arm stretched up under the pillow, along the line of their shoulder to the dip of their collarbone as bare skin leads down under the blankets.
Arias still gets lightly emotional when he thinks back to when Osora finally allowed him to see their body in its entirety. They had crossed a threshold in their relationship early on, but Osora had always made it a point to remove as little clothing as possible and quickly redress.
“I don’t want you to see me that way,” they had said, terror in their entire being.
No amount of Arias reassuring them had changed anything, until one day it just clicked. Osora had been in his lap, back to chest, binder still on, and had wordlessly guided Arias' hands to the clasps, helped him unravel the bandages, and given him permission. The motions had brought tears to Arias' eyes, seeing just how much love and trust Osora had for him. They hadn’t ended up doing anything more that night, just taking the evening to be in each other’s company; Arias covered Osora's shoulders in gentle kisses and the prince softly held Arias’ hands, tangling their fingers together and pressing them against their lips.
It scares him, sometimes, when it hits Arias at unexpected points in the day that he has all he’s ever wanted. He may have scars, he may have not so great memories of a shadow of a family that tossed him aside, his heart may ache when he thinks about how he almost lost Osora to their duty as a prince, heir, son. He watches from doorways as Osora stands beside Antonio discussing trade routes, tax collections, and land disputes. He thinks about “let’s run away together” and “a simple but busy life.” But more than anything he thinks about how at the end of the day, he walks Osora back to their room, joins them in the bath to scrub the grime of the day away, and falls asleep in their arms after soft kisses and gentle I love you’s. It may not be a farm in the Ashburrows, far away from duty and danger, but he has his family. He has Osora.
The sun is cresting the balcony now, flashing through the windswept trees outside the window. He gazes down at Osora, whose breathing has shifted; they’re awake now. They breathe in a heavy sigh, eyes still closed, and stretch their arms further around their pillow. A smirk plays at the edge of their full lips. Arias feels his throat clench.
“Quit staring at me, you weirdo,” they grumble, voice still slurred with sleep. Their stretching settles and Arias believes they may have immediately fallen back asleep, but they sigh again. Their eyes crack open in the morning light; the sun catches the corner of their eye, lighting the usual soft brown with golden fire.
Arias allows his free hand to slide beneath the blankets and across Osora’s stomach, catching on their opposite hip to pull them closer. Their tummy jumps under his light touch and he huffs a small laugh. Arias lets his gaze continue to flow over the prince in his grasp as it has all morning, thumb stroking the soft skin at their hip.
Osora stares up at Arias, sleep-soft and warm, and an unexpected furrow returns to their brows. “Why are you crying?”
The comment catches him off guard, his expression faltering. Osora’s hand reaches up and comes away with shimmering tears on their palm from where they wiped them away from Arias’ chin. He hadn’t realized he had teared up, but he knows why.
“I love you.”
Osora’s hand returns to clean away the tears on the other side of his face. “Didn’t realize it sucked so much to love me,” they jest, tucking their arm between their bodies.
Arias, through the stinging in his throat, smiles. “It’s terrifying.” He raises his own hand, sliding it along Osora’s skin beneath the blanket before emerging and settling on the junction of neck and jaw. The blonde fuzz there is invisible and downy, soft as a rabbit. “You’re everything. I still don’t really know what to do with that.”
“Seems a bit early to be having a crisis like this.” Osora lifts their hand again and gently guides Arias’ to their mouth, pressing kisses to the palm. Their kisses move along each joint of Arias’ fingers one by one before taking the very tip of his index between his teeth. Their eyes lift to meet his gaze and they grin, fangs shining around his finger. “I’d rather do something else,” they huff, words muffled around the digit in their mouth. Arias’ heart thumps in his chest and he rips his hand away in favor of pressing Osora’s wrists into the pillow above, laying the length of his body all along the prince’s, every inch of their skin melting together.
“You’re a monster,” he growls, eyes lighting as he captures Osora in a deep and filthy kiss, one that wraps their breaths together into a gale of excitement, “You’ve remade me,” the kiss is torn apart, travels down Osora’s jaw, their neck, “I’ll never be anything else but yours-”
“Arias-”
He tears himself from the bruise he’s worked into the dip of Osora’s collarbone. He releases their wrists in favor of leaning back to run his hands down the prince’s body, one skirting past their chest to wrap around their ribcage, the other being caught by Osora’s hand and his fingers brought back to their lips. Their expression is already heavy and flushed, the sun still setting fire to their eyes through the window. Their lips and teeth clench down on Arias’ fingertips again before their tongue sooths the nips.
“You’re mine,” they finally breathe out, releasing his fingers to nuzzle into his palm once more, “This is how it’s supposed to feel to have everything I want.” Their expression is earnest when it meets Arias again and he shivers.
Arias doesn’t quite need a farm in the Ashburrows, early mornings with an apron around his waist as he makes breakfast for himself and his beloved. He quite likes how it feels to have everything he’s ever needed right here in his arms.