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Horatio wrapped his arms around Hamlet, as the dark haired man snuggled closer towards his chest.
The brit hummed in contentment and softly curled a finger through the other mans hair.
"So, what precisely is this new play of yours about, my lord?"
Hamlet smiled mischievously at the question, more than happy to indulge his lover in his creative brilliance.
He cleared his throat and begun talking. "You see, my dear Horatio, the play tells the tragic tale of Gonzago, a trustful and noble ruler, who is murdered by his jealous, wicked brother, who betrayed his own flesh and blood just to embrace his own greedy desires."
Hamlets voice darkened as he spoke, his tounge driven by anger and a grudge, yet not angry enough to cause a scene. Or, more accurately, not angry enough to let himself snap at someone so innocent and sweet as his lover.
His anger is like rain, Horatio thought. The prince is harsh, sarcastic, and violent. He acts like a raging storm, willing to take down whoever he needs to get revenge, even if he might come to regret it one day.
But with Horatio, the storm has died down, leaving nothing but a soft
trace of morning dew, gentle yet beautiful remains of rage.
He took a good look at the prince, his prince. Oh, how gorgeous he looked, hair ever so slightly tangled, eyes tired, yet still enthusiastic as always, soft body purely exposed, bare chested with only the cover of a blanket thrown over his shoulder...
Without thinking, Horatio leaned in and softly pressed his lips against Hamlets, His hand traveled across his warm body and eventually pulled the other into a hug.
Hamlet sighed in contentment after the kiss, resting his head on Horatios shoulder, warm breath trailing across the other mans body.
"I love you." Horatio murmured. He then kissed his cheek and gently pulled him down under the covers with him.
Hamlet just mumbled something while snuggling closer to his loved one, sharing his body heat on that cold, snowy december day.