Author's Note: This is inspired by a rather random musing I had the other day which involved comparing Narnia characters to food items...and then it exploded.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not mine. All that belongs to C.S. Lewis.
Peter thinks Caspian is like a cinnamon roll.
And yes, he knows he's being a complete, well, idiot, but he can't help it.
Peter sees that the way Caspian has curled in on himself is clearly for protection, but it just makes Peter think more and more that Caspian's skin must taste like cinnamon and feel like warm browned bread.
And all Peter's silly thoughts make him want to unroll the Telemarine prince; start at one end and slo-o-o-wly work his way inwards to the center, which - everyone knows - is the best part. Peter thinks that inside Caspian's hard-baked outside is something luscious and soft and perfect - and it makes him shudder to imagine dripping frosting all over golden skin.
Peter licks his lips and realizes that a small part of himself is ridiculously happy that Edmund has publicly sworn off sweets for all eternity, even though he knows his brother is definitely not thinking the same sugar drenched thoughts he is. The rest of Peter is occupied with wondering if anyone in their camp has access to baking supplies.
He knows that this is a completely inappropriate time to be having such saccharine fantasies and he knows that half of his nasty remarks to Caspian are made without the approval of most of his brain (which is occupied with imagining warm spices caressed into sensitive skin and whimpers gasped as he strokes off the tingling richness with his tongue) and Peter knows he's always been pointlessly aggressive when he's distracted. He also knows that cinnamon rolls have always been his favorite dessert.
Peter grins a small grin in the middle of fighting for his life when the glinting flash of someone's armor makes him think of oven firelight reflecting off pools of sweat on honeyed flesh before quickly setting the thought aside for later. His grin returns on the way to the newly crowned king's castle, and if Susan thinks he's happy about winning the battle, he won't enlighten her to the fact that he's actually imagining sinking his teeth into yielding velvety skin smelling faintly of nutmeg and yeast.
When Peter accepts that he won't be returning to Narnia, he swiftly buries the hurt under pictures of sticky sweet limbs rubbing not-quite-smoothly against each other and how Caspian would be delighted with the taste of Peter's style of baking.
Peter smiles absently all the way to school, and the first thing he does when he arrives is head directly for the kitchens.