Chapter Text
The next morning, Carlos asks for a carriage. He easily ignores the questioning looks from his countrymen and pointedly looks away from Caco's disbelieving stare.
Instead, he focuses on ushering his darling English doll onboard, fussing with the velveteen cushions until he gets them just right.
Carlos is handsomely rewarded with a megawatt smile that makes his heart skip a beat. Lando settles in, tucking his legs underneath him. He flaps a hand at the empty space next to him, and Carlos sinks into the spot, a hair's breadth away.
He is a touch fucked, he thinks.
Caco, of course, was not wrong last night. He was far too hot-headed, heat coursing through his veins when he overrode his cousin’s practical objections. He was supposed to be the rational strategist that had won them many battles, yet little Lando Norris has wormed his way through his barriers with his adorable courtly faux pas and throwing him off of his game.
He isn't quite sure how he would finagle the means to pluck Lando from his chosen path. It would be an international scandal - the esteemed Spanish heir stealing away an Englishman of minor nobility would be a candle into a wildfire. The unspoken rule of being a princeling meant you had to wed yourself to another for the sake of an alliance – Carlos has heard the tale of the famous Italian ploy that succeeded in seeing one of their sons married to the famously reluctant king of Finland by literally forcing the king to take in the man on the cusp of winter.
Perhaps he should slow down, and consult with his cousin properly. Eventually he is due to take over the throne one day, and while he is supposed to consider a proper alliance, his padre would not care what he does.
Mi hijo, we have only one life, he had said, clapping his hand across Carlos’ shoulders. Live it to the fullest. Our country is strong enough to weather any storm. Vamos. Make your mistakes and own your decisions. This is what makes a leader.
He definitely did not consider Lando a mistake by any means.
And then there is the issue of whether Lando wanted to stay with him. Carlos is fully aware they have only known each other for barely a day, but he has fallen hard and fast for bright smiles and flustered blushes and sparkling blue doe eyes.
Mierda, he wanted to have Lando forever. When he awoke this morning, there was a soft head of chocolaty brown curls tucked under his chin and a steady stream of warm, huffy snoring upon his bare neck. He would love to wake up every day for the rest of his life like this.
He would chain Lando to his side, if he assented. He would find a way to make it happen.
They had been much too busy exploring each other last night, wrapped up in languorous kisses and tentatively explorative touches to discuss it further.
“Penny for your thoughts?” A bright voice pierces through his brooding ruminations. Lando draws near, his stare luminous with curiosity. He taps his leg. “You look like you’re thinking too hard.”
Carlos wraps an arm around his slight shoulder, tugging him closer to drop Lando’s tousled head to his collar. “Contemplating the future, mi vida.”
“Oh?” Lando cuddles into his ribcage, sliding into a more comfortable position, pressing a butterfly’s kiss to his exposed neck.
Carlos shivers at the contact and makes a vague grunt of agreement. “Uh-huh.”
“Does it involve me?” Lando asks playfully, humour in his tone.
Carlos’ brow remains furrowed in pensive thoughts, leaving his question unanswered, and Lando finds that he wants to smooth it over with a soothing gesture like the Spaniard did when he rescued him from that horrible move that he made last night.
God, this man has swept him off of his feet and he doesn’t want this romance to end.
In the back of his mind, he knows that there has to be an end. There isn’t a way around it; Carlos is a prince, the Infanta of Spain, and princes are not permitted to marry the second sons of a baron of three tiny villages, for chrissakes. Maybe if he had been born to the filthy rich Strolls, or rose rapidly to be knighted like Sir Hamilton, he would have had a glancing chance.
But he would take what he could get. He would eventually get dropped off by the Spanish entourage, and all he would get to keep are his memories of their steamy makeout sessions.
Lando tips his chin up, and slants his mouth over Carlos’ frown. The motion startles him, and Carlos peers down at him.
“Kiss me.” Lando whispers to the ghost of the seam of his full lips. “Carlos, please.” He leans back, hoping his face is arranged in a somewhat sultry look.
Carlos lazily chases after him, burying his nose into the hairs at his nape. He brings a hand to the press of their chests, and slides down his ribs, an act that should not be as thrilling as it seems. He stops at Lando’s bottom, and gives it a soft squeeze.
Lando keens, his eyes falling shut as their carriage rocks and he is bumped further across Carlos’ lap.
He wants more. He wants to have everything that Carlos is willing to give.
"Are you interested in staying with me further, Lando?" Carlos mumbles afterward, as his strong arms that ensconced the Englishman in a sweaty, naked embrace drift towards their discarded clothing. It is midday now, and the castle that Lando is being delivered to is in their party’s sights, despite still being a few leagues away.
"What do you mean?" He scrunches his nose at the loss of warmth, and he sits up, grabbing at his pants. He slowly pulls them on, mindful of the sheen of fine perspiration on his skin.
Carlos takes a deep breath. "I would like for you to abandon your apprenticeship and allow me to take you with me. I find that you will not so easily be replaced for me, mi corazón." He confesses, his expression uncertain.
Lando jolts in surprise. "Really?" He squeaks, his hands flying to cover his mouth. "You mean it?" He gazes at Carlos in a mix of disbelief and hope. “You think it’s possible?”
His eyes are shining wetly, and Carlos is simply arrested by the reflection of Lando’s yearning.
“Yes.” His voice is firm, powered by his own resolve.
Later, Carlos seeks out his cousin again. They have made it to the castle now, and he has just finished hammering out the details of releasing Lando from the marquis. The man surprisingly let his little rosa inglesa out of their agreement with zero resistance - Carlos suspects that once the man had laid his squinty irises on Lando’s skinny form, he assumed that he would be too frail for his services.
He snorts to himself. That is his loss. Carlos found Lando strong enough to keep his thighs from bucking too deeply into that sinfully sweet mouth.
He knocks lightly on the heavy oak door, four quick raps in succession.
“Carlos, what can I do for you tonight?” His cousin lets him into his chambers. A robust fire is roaring in the hearth, gradually warming the encapsulating stone walls.
“I have an idea.” And Carlos outlines his half-baked plan, cringing as Caco raises an eyebrow as he carefully listens to stuttered explanations.
It is not the best course of action that Carlos wants to take here, Caco muses, allowing his brain to angle the proposition more clinically. But it is an optimal choice for Carlos to essentially purchase Lando under the guise of ownership. His family basically sold him for a better life, no? So his cousin will buy him. But then what?
He knows his uncle is lax in his grip upon his favored son; he would let Carlos do as he pleases. It would be unprecedented in their world, but with time Lando could become his partner in crime, if that is what his cousin is shooting for down the line in the years to come. Their people would be quick to forget the Englishman’s origins if they see how deeply infatuated their crown prince is with him.
Finally, Caco nods his head. “Always the flair for the dramatic, Carlito. But yes, this would work. It would circumvent some of the issues.” He pauses thoughtfully, scratching at his head. “As always, there will be other problems that can and will arise, but I suppose we can deal with those as they come. Time is on our side to get the world adjusted to the idea of you two. Have you discussed it with him?"
"I will. Tonight." Carlos fidgets anxiously. His fingers itch to feel the lump adjacent to his chest, the weight of his promise heavy in his shirt pocket.
"And you believe he will readily agree?"
"I believe it." The chains are burning a hole where they are pinioned against his heart.
Carlos bursts through their bedroom door at half past one in the morning, startling Lando awake. His dark pupils are dilated, tempestuous with an intensity that electrifies down Lando’s bare spine.
“Carlos?” Lando whispers, furiously rubbing at his eyelids to rid them of sleep. He wraps their bed sheet tighter around himself as he stares, bewildered. “What's going on? When did you leave the bed?”
The Spaniard drops to his knees, hitting the rushes by their bed that prevent his body from landing on the cobbled stone floor. He shoves a hand haphazardly into a hidden breast pocket of his doublet, and yanks it out with a shaking grasp.
He very much hopes that Lando could understand what the sum of this sacrifice he is asking for would mean to him. Carlos is imploring his lover for the complete subservience of his very being, to prostrate himself so they could be with one another.
But he would ensure that it would be worth every look of contempt, every humiliating interaction, every gossiping titter in the end. He is aiming to play for the long con, after all.
“I would be very humbled if you accepted this gift, mi amor, if you would have me.” He murmurs, chin to chest.
Delicately beaten loops of yellow gold flecked with jasper red stones drip from his fingers, and Lando watches, captured by the way Carlos’ hands tremble with a foreign trepidation as he presents the jewelry to him.
Carlos is quite nervous, Lando realises with a start. The tension is sticky, like cooling treacle, coating his throat with a thickened syrup that he cannot swallow.
“What sort of gift is this?” He croaks, reaching out to cup Carlos' chin with one hand.
“Are you deliberately prolonging my misery? You are so cruel, cariño.” Carlos tries to tease half heartedly, leaning into Lando's touch.
“No, no!” Lando says hurriedly, dropping his arm to clasp the proffered hands in his. “I just… what would they mean?”
“Ah.” Carlos lifts his head, his brown eyes wild, brimming with a swarm of emotions – a thunderstorm of resignation and raw adoration. “A token to shackle you to my side. It is barbaric, but legal.” He breathes out heavily. “We would not be equals, but possibly…but I cannot promise...” He trails off, unable to continue.
Lando’s heart stutters at the implication.
He would become the hawk that voluntarily traps itself in the gilded cage, fettered to a perch for the rest of his days. But if the manacles and bars meant no one is able to question why he is with Carlos, so be it. He would become a mere trophy, a prized souvenir that the Spaniard has collected on his travels.
He would willingly adapt to whatever Carlos needed him to be to remain by his side. Perhaps, one day, they could be coupled in matrimony.
He easily makes the decision without a second thought, his heart spilling over the brim with love for the man that kneels in front of him now.
Lando thrusts his slender wrists out, his hands folded into loose fists.
“Chain me to you.”