AN: I got this somewhat strange idea a while ago. If you break it down, the sections are actually drabbles that flow into each other. Pairings are Peter/Caspian, Susan/Caspian, Edmund/Caspian, Lucy/Caspian. I love feedback.
With Peter it is reverent.
Caspian approaches the gold belt buckle, the velvety red tunic, the rippling muscles under surprisingly smooth skin with an awe usually reserved for handling ancient artifacts. With him, more than any other, Caspian's mind strays back to the rank, the legend. He kisses the white neck and sometimes he dares a nip or two. Peter looks at him. Caspian cannot tell if it is a look of reproach. So he gives a sly, shy smile and touches Peter with trembling hands. When he brings a single moan, it is the best reward of Caspian's life.
With Susan it is tender.
Her hair shines like nothing Caspian has ever seen and her eyes are as bright as sapphires. When he bares her breasts, he thinks that he will go wild with desire, but she becomes reluctant. She says that they shouldn't, tells him a hundred things that could go wrong. He wonders how she thought of it all – he couldn't have, even if he'd had a year. So he shushes her, runs his hands through the silk of her hair and their lips touch, slow and gentle. He is a man and she is a woman.
With Edmund it is balanced.
They kiss fiercely and when they pull apart, Caspian sees the ironic smile, that slightest upward curving of the lip. There is something there that makes Caspian dare to ask for something unconventional, something he has always wanted to try. Edmund arches an eyebrow and before Caspian has time to think, they have fallen down in a tangle of limbs. Caspian presses his lips against Edmund's harshly, but then Edmund pushes him back against the pillow and kisses his throat. There is give and take and somehow the one is never greater than the other.
With Lucy it is free.
They kiss softly and their noses bump together. Caspian pulls away and expects to see Lucy looking back embarrassed or perhaps trembling, as this is what girls tend to do. Instead, she is smiling, and then giggling. Her laughter is infectious and her eyes warm. Soon Caspian is laughing as well. When she kisses him, it is so sweet that Caspian fancies he can taste the sugar. His arms feel like they were meant to go around her. With her it is liberated – not daring like with Edmund -- but free and easy and natural.
"Your Majesty!" comes a voice.
There is a knock at his door and Caspian is drawn out of his long daydreams. He can never seem to get them off his mind, but blushes when imagines what they would say if they knew he thought of them like that. He will never see any of the four again; this he knows. He can never tell anyone his fantasies. And how would he choose, even if he could somehow see them and (even more unlikely) have a free choice? Reluctantly, he rises from bed and straightens his rumpled clothes. He is needed.