It was wrong. Having Caspian pressed against the wall, sharing rough and needy kisses. Holding a hand over his mouth the first time, to keep him from calling out, as he dragged the other boy into the alcove with him.
It was wrong to ignore his objections. It was wrong to take advantage of his hero worship and twist it into something darker, fiercer. It was wrong to use him to take out his pent up energy and frustration. But Peter was desperate, and this was keeping him sane.
Before the first assault on the castle it had been nervous. Shaking hands, unsure motions, whispered pleas in the dark. Apologies, objections, arguments. They had relieved each other's desperation, they had distracted from the looming battle and all its possibilities, if only for a moment.
After they returned, their troops cut in half and only Caspian's stupidity to blame for the loss, it had been angry. They had fought, outside and in full view of everyone, and again in private. Caspian had ended it by smashing Peter up against the wall, and where he thought the other boy was going to punch him there had instead been a kiss. An apology of sorts, for all that it was fierce and demanding. Peter had taken control from him easily, switching their positions so that it was Caspian against the wall, pinned and helpless. And he was helpless, they both knew. Peter was rougher than he should have been, perhaps simply inconsiderate, perhaps punishing Caspian for his wrongs.
When his challenge had been made and accepted, Peter had sought Caspian out. Under the guise of talking they had wandered far from the others, and then his true intentions had shown. Needy, desperate, seeking a last thrill before what could be his death. He was noble. He would fight and he would die, because it was the right thing. He would not go out without his last pleasure, though, he would not go out without knowing the pleasures that Caspian could bring him one last time. There was no objection this time, not even the weakest one. If anything, Caspian seemed more willing. In a way, he understood, he understood that this could be the last time and he gave Peter what he needed, a rush, a high, a distraction.
In the castle--Caspian's castle--when all was settled, the battle was won, and things were beginning to be set in order again, they had found each other. Shaking hands again, as armor they hadn't had the chance to shed yet was cast aside carelessly. It was a different kind of desperation in their touches that time. The war was over. The adrenaline of battle was wearing off. The pain was beginning to register, long days of the hard and boring work of uniting a kingdom loomed before them, and they both needed one last release.
Caspian wondered at the last time. He wasn't sure who had initiated it then. At first, it had always been Peter, Peter and his needs that Caspian had grudgingly complied to and even enjoyed. He had thought it wrong, to lay with another boy--though there had been no laying involved, always against walls or bent over and braced on something--but he had humored Peter, because Peter was a legend, Peter was great, he looked up to Peter. But Peter was just a man. A man Caspian found he had quite liked being with, for all that their encounters were always rough and desperate. The last time, though, there was a bed. A bed and silk covers and time to lie together after, tangled limbs and heavy breathing until they fell asleep together. It had been almost gentle. Peter had still been there in the morning, unexpectedly, and things had been peaceful.
Watching Peter leave, seeing the brief flash of hurt when Susan kissed him, Caspian thought he understood that last time. It had been Peter's goodbye. It had been a last 'what we could have been'. He would always wonder now, what they could have been. If they could have learned to be gentle and less desperate, if he could have learned to accept being with another man, if the world could have accepted it. If if if if. But Peter was gone, with whatever chance he might have had to learn the answers, and all he had was a few desperate encounters to remember him by.