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Chapter Text

      “Hamlet!” Claudius grabs the Prince. “What is the source of this madness?”

       Prince Hamlet raises one perfect eyebrow. His triangle goatee twitches. “Why Daddy--I mean, my lord… I thought you knew.”

       “ WHAT?! ” Claudius yells, but deep inside, he likes where this is going. Gertrude bursts into tears.

       “Oh Hamlet, sweet Hamlet!” she sobs. “Thou art mental.”

       “Hardly so, Mother dearest, I merely--OH GOD, TIS MY FATHER!” Hamlet points randomly through a doorway. Gertrude runs off, weeping.

       Finally, Hamlet and Claudius are alone. Hamlet draws his sword, appearing unusually nervous. The air crackles with tension.

“For too long, I have lusted after you, Uncle. But thou married my MOTHER, thou INCESTUOUS BEAST!”

       Claudius frowns, but he's feeling hot and bothered. “Hamlet! Tis forbidden.”

       Hamlet drops his sword with a clatter and grabs Claudius’ shoulders tightly. His blue eyes are wild. “I don't care,” he breathes, his voice shaky and two octaves higher than normal. “Thou art king, and I am your obedient slave.”

         Oh boy, Claudius thinks. Hamlet’s into that kind of stuff. Out loud, he says, “Well now. I see. Your poor mother.”

       “Yes,” Hamlet moans, “ talk about my mother!” He leans in and kisses the King’s neck.

       Claudius feels like he should do something--surely this is Hamlet’s madness talking, right?--but he doesn't move. “Young Hamlet,” he gasps, “thou hast some serious problems. What about the fair Ophelia?”

       Hamlet is panting. “Ophelia can suck my father's dick.”

    “Wow, ok,” the King mumbles. He silently prays to whoever is listening that Laertes or (heaven forbid) Gertrude doesn't walk in. “Hamlet,” he coughs, “what wouldst thou like to do?”

    The Prince of Denmark falls down at Claudius’ feet. “Whatever you ask of me, my lord.” He looks up, mustache quivering. There are tears in his eyes.

    Claudius is warming up to this new development. The bedroom is suddenly very hot and very, very inviting. “Well then, my pet… I have some ideas.”

Exeunt Hamlet and Claudius.

Chapter Text

Enter Horatio.

    Horatio knocks on Hamlet's door.

    “Come in, good Horatio!” Hamlet is lounging on his bed, shirtless and reading a book about penguins. “Thy wanted to chat?”

     “Yes, my lord. I--” Horatio stops and squints at the Prince. “Is--is that a collar , my lord?”

    Hamlet jerks the penguin book up to cover his neck and stares innocently at Horatio with his frostbite-blue eyes. “Collar? What? I don't know what you're talking about.”

    Horatio rolls his eyes. “I am not stupid, my lord. Last night, I was walking past the King’s chambers and I heard thou… barking.”

    “Me? Barking? Don't be an ass, Horatio.”

    “My lord!” In two steps, Horatio crosses the room and grabs the book. “Give me that!”

     Hamlet starts shrieking bloody murder at the top of his lungs, so Horatio gives up. “I know what Claudius and thou art doing, and I want to join!” he yells in defeat, his luscious locks flying back with the force of his passion.

     Hamlet lowers the penguin book cautiously to reveal a pink, sparkly collar, a single tear coursing down his perfect face. The nametag on the collar says ‘Prince Fluffy.’ “Horatio,” he whispers, “thou and I are just friends.”

     “ Just friends?! ” Horatio is crying too, more from his pent-up sexual frustration than from heartbreak. “My lord, do you not remember that night in the graveyard? Your 22nd birthday? Your 23rd birthday? Last Thursday morn in the stables? We have never been ‘just friends,’ Hamlet.”

     The Prince of Denmark closes his eyes and groans. “Good Horatio, ‘twould be so awkward.”

    “What, and wearing a collar like a hound is not?”

    “Nay, my master the King wishes that I wear it, and so I must obey. But with you, Horatio? I fear that I am so… well endowed , as it were, that I would put you to shame.”

    “MY LORD HAMLET,” the less handsome man growls, “I HAVE SEEN YOU NAKED.”

    Hamlet throws the book to the floor and stalks past his friend-with-benefits to the window, where he stands broodily. “Very well. I shall ask Daddy--I mean, mine Uncle.”

    Horatio eyes the Prince’s butt. “Thank you, my lord.” He turns to leave, but Hamlet clears his throat and Horatio looks back. Hamlet is leaning seductively against a bookshelf, with one shapely eyebrow raised. “Wouldst thou like to meet me at 3:00 for some fencing, if you know what I mean?”

     “Hamlet, thou art a ho. But yes, if it pleaseth you, I shall meet thee there.”

Exeunt Horatio.