Here's the follow-up, as promised. I've been tweaking it for a while, and finally managed to get it finished today. Hope it doesn't disappoint.

Peter was a fool. He knew it with absolute certainty, and yet the knowledge did not deter him as he padded through the great corridors to where, according to one of the servants, he would find Caspian's chambers. He knew it was completely inappropriate, to seek out the King in his private quarters, but the need to talk to him overpowered Peter's pride and sense of propriety. His visit had two purposes – to check that Caspian was ok after his distress over the battle, and to try and obtain an explanation of what had passed between them and what, if any, significance it had.

His greatest fear was that Caspian would tell him it had been a ridiculous mistake, an outburst in a moment of complete emotional turbulence. In truth, his behaviour had Peter dumbfounded. He could not imagine kissing someone out of grief and despair, and nor could he imagine revealing himself to someone he was attracted to in such a moment.

He had not had a chance to speak to the other boy since the battle. The feast that evening was an official event, in celebration of Caspian's coronation, and the King had been busy all evening making small talk with nobles and fulfilling his duty as royal host.

Eventually, Peter came to a great door at the end of the passage. For a moment he hesitated, then steeled his nerves and knocked sharply.

"Enter," came a muffled voice from within. He swung the door open, and the blood rushed to his cheeks as he came face to face, for the first time since the incident on the field, with Caspian.

For a moment, Caspian looked startled. He quickly collected himself, though, and rose politely from his desk.

"Good evening, High King Peter. I trust you are well?"

Regaining some of his own composure, Peter nodded. "Very well, thanks. Uh…this is a nice room you've got."

Caspian shrugged. "It is a little too grand for my tastes, to be honest," he admitted casually. "I would have preferred to keep my old bedchamber, but it is Telmarine custom for the king to live in these apartments."

Peter nodded. "It was like that in our time as well," he said unnecessarily. "So, what's that you're reading there?" He moved over to the desk, for all the world as if late-night visits to Caspian's sleeping quarters were very normal and not at all awkward or inappropriate. "Anything interesting?"

Caspian played along, leaning back casually against his desk. "Hardly," he sighed, grinning slightly. "Financial reports and the like – I thought they would give me a night or two to settle in before they started bombarding me with paperwork." His tone was light and playful, but Peter could see that underneath he was quite stressed.

"I have something that may interest you, actually," continued Caspian, moving over to the bookshelves (apparently, the gentlemen-in-waiting had finished moving all his old things up). "It was a gift from Cornelius, my tutor. It's about…well, about you." He reached up and pulled a large manuscript from the top shelf. The front cover bore a beautiful illustration of four people on horses…us, Peter realised, feeling rather taken aback.

"Thank you." Peter studied the cover of the book for a moment, then placed it carefully on the desk. It was fascinating, but right now he had more pressing concerns. "So, what I really wanted was to…talk to you about…well, yesterday." Peter cursed himself as his oratory skills (or lack thereof) began manifesting themselves clearly. He had never been any good at this sort of thing.

"Peter, you have my humblest apologies," said Caspian, dropping all pretences and gazing down at his hands. "I should never have forced my feelings upon you like that, and I can only crave your pardon for any offense I have caused."

"I didn't come looking for an apology." Peter's tone was sharper than he intended; Caspian looked taken aback. "Listen, I understand if you were just being impulsive. I've done stupider things when I've been upset." He cringed even as the words escaped his lips, but forced himself to keep speaking. "I just…need to know how you feel. About me."

"I feel…" Caspian paused, stepping closer to Peter. "It is hard to say." In one swift motion, he brushed his lips softly against Peter's and stepped back, his eyes wide and anxious. "I feel…something like that."

Peter felt like there was a large object wedged in his throat. He stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and kissed the other king hungrily. Caspian responded instantly, his arm snaking around Peter's waist to pull him even closer. Peter's whole body tingled as Caspian tugged at his lower lip, tender but insistent.

When they pulled apart, both were slightly breathless. "If you want to stay," breathed Caspian, his articulacy long since having fled out the window, "I…do not mind."

"I don't mind either." Peter followed him eagerly into the adjacent room, and then gasped sharply as Caspian pushed him down onto the large, soft bed and kissed him passionately, exploring every inch of his mouth with a new urgency. Tongues and teeth clashed over and over, and Peter could not imagine why they hadn't done this before…

Caspian's lips were at his throat now, his hands inside his shirt, slowly robbing him of both his inhibitions and his sanity. Peter moaned slightly, his own hands running along the Telmarine's torso, moving down towards his hips without really knowing what he was doing.

"Peter…" Caspian's breath was coming in ragged gasps now, as Peter gained confidence and began to grapple with Caspian's belt. It took a surprisingly short time for the two Kings to divest themselves of all superfluous garments, and the feeling of naked skin on skin made Peter feel like someone had lit a bonfire in his abdomen. He could almost feel the little Fauns and Satyrs dancing around it.

"Oh god, Caspian…" The other boy's hand had drifted lower now, caressing him in a very personal place and wrenching a stream of incoherent moans from Peter. "I want you to…argh…yes…"

The sensations as the other King slid inside him were nearly too much for Peter to handle. He groaned, and Caspian was moaning his name over and over and panting for breath and white stars exploded behind Peter's eyes and he arched his back, giving himself up completely to the explosion of bliss that wracked his frame. Caspian gave an incoherent cry, and the two boys collapsed back onto the mattress in a tangled heap of sweaty, trembling limbs and uneven gasps.

Later that night, Peter lay spent and blissfully sleepy on the huge royal bed, with Caspian's head cushioned on his chest.

"Caspian?" ventured Peter softly, not sure if his lover was awake or not.

"Mph," was the suitably eloquent reply. Closer to the 'not' spectrum then, Peter figured.

He paused, trying to figure out exactly what it was that he wanted to say. "I know it feels like you've lost all your family and friends. And I want you to know that you're welcome to consider us all your new family. Lucy already sees you as a surrogate brother."

"I do not want you as my brother, Peter," Caspian mumbled sleepily, nuzzling into his chest comfortably. "I had something a bit different in mind."

"That's not what I meant," chuckled Peter, but let it drop. He was just happy – happy that he was here, happy that they'd succeeded, happy that his affections were returned. Feeling thoroughly fond of life, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.