Then came the awful realisation of what he had done. Not once during the week he had been travelling had he realised the truth of it all. He had kissed someone in a devoted relationship with another person. He had allowed someone in a relationship to kiss him under the guise of giving it to the other person in that relationship. And if Petros declined, which seemed more and more likely with every second that passed, it meant that Ambrus had willingly broken Petros’s trust. And Areti had let him. 

“Yes.”

The word came out choked, forced out and breaking the stunned silence they had fallen into. There was more he should have said, like an apology, but nothing more would fall from his lips. Guilt ate at him and he clutched his stomach. He was a fool, a self-centred fool who had bitten off far more than he could chew. 

Fingers grasped his chin, pulled him until he faced Petros’s calculating stare, calloused but warm. There was no anger in their eyes, only worry, and Areti had no idea what he was supposed to do about it. Shouldn’t Petros be angry with him, enraged that Ambrus had betrayed his trust in such a way?

“Please… Please tell me you wanted it. I know you want to help us, but I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,” Petros whispered, gaze flicking to different parts of Areti’s face, searching for something. “He didn’t force you, did he? I know he never would on purpose, but it’s still possible. You did choose it, right?”

Areti could only gape for a long moment, waiting for the words to settle somewhere in his mind. “That’s what you’re upset about?” he asked and pulled away from the warmth against his chin. “I kissed your partner!”

“And in turn will have kissed me also, if I’m assuming correctly about this gift,” they replied, hand falling into their lap. Their lips pursed but they didn’t look away and Areti couldn’t tell what they were thinking. “Answer my question, please.”

“I- I agreed, I chose it.” The lump in his throat was hard to get past, but he did it. 

Finally, Petros looked away, groaning their partner’s name in what sounded like frustration. Something lingered on their face, something like longing, and something else Areti didn’t quite understand. “Why must he… The decisions he makes sometimes, I question his logic… But, if you’re amenable, who am I to decline such a gift?”

The same anxiety that had bubbled up within Areti a week ago resurfaced, along with excitement. He had to squash it. The kisses were gifts and he was but the messenger, the conduit. He was not a teenager about to have his first kiss; that time had long since passed, the face of the boy shrouded in the thick fog of memory. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. 

“It is the strangest gift I have ever received, I will admit, but it is quite sweet of him. I’m more than sure,” Petros answered, gazing down at him with such adoration that it left him breathless. Then he remembered. He was supposed to be Ambrus at that moment, not Areti. This was not his kiss. 

A beat of silence was all it took for him to remember that he was the one who was supposed to make the first move. He cupped Petros’s cheek, the beard scratching against the soft meat of his palm, and leaned in as slowly as Ambrus had. 

Having never kissed someone with a beard before, he found the sensation to be both strange and extremely pleasant. He tried not to hum into it, remembering to keep it as tender as Ambrus had. A chaste brush of lips, one that showed the depth of Ambrus’s feelings, nothing more. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Not because it was difficult to do, but because it was difficult to hold back. 

It was over in less than a second. Areti’s hand was the last thing to move away, grazing Petros’s chin briefly. The confusion he saw staring back at him made him almost rip it away, his jaw clenching tight enough to hurt. 

“Petros?” he whispered. 

“Was that how Ambrus kissed you?” they asked. 

He mirrored his friend’s confusion, his head tilting to the side. “Yes. Well, mostly, I suppose. Is something wrong?”

“He’s usually not so… gentle.”

That set a fire in Areti’s stomach, his mind alight with ideas of how Ambrus usually behaved. “Perhaps he misses you,” he suggested, the words only a little choked. Petros made a thoughtful noise, but didn’t say anything. “Was that… Was that alright?”

“It was. How thoughtful of Ambrus, to give me such a lovely gift,” they replied, fingers held against the thin lips Areti had so recently kissed. “Would you be opposed to giving them one from me in return?”

Somehow, it was the last thing he had expected to happen. The idea that Petros would want to return the favour had never once occurred to him. He had believed it would be a one time thing, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Of course, if Petros had wanted to accept the gift in the first place, it only made sense that they would want to give one in return. 

“A kiss?” he asked, stupidly. 

“Only if you’re comfortable.”

Was he? It was hard to tell. The kisses had been enjoyable, fun, but also not for him. But… Ambrus and Petros deserved to be happy and if they needed him in order to be, then who was he to deny them? They were his friends, they were people he cared about. What was a little kissing between friends?

He nodded and shuffled on the bed until he faced Petros again. “I am,” he whispered. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been, but he couldn’t help it. “You don’t want your letter first?”

Petros chuckled, a deep sound that made him shiver. “That can wait, I feel.”

There was very little warning before their lips were pressed against his once again. It was far rougher than the last, open mouthed and hot. Areti made a noise in the back of his throat, struggling to keep up but in no way complaining. Petros’s tongue flicked against his bottom lip, asking for permission Areti gave all too easily. 

The heat of Petros’s hands was everywhere, eventually settling at the back of his head and under the thin sleeve of his chiton. Areti tried to mirror it, moving one hand back to where it had cupped Petros’s cheek earlier and the other to the armour that covered their toned chest. 

The second kiss lasted far longer than the first, Areti trying to return as much as he was given. Somehow, every brush of lips and tongue was still gentle, despite the urgency Petros held, as if Areti was something precious in their hands. Areti held on for dear life, trying to commit it all to memory. 

When they pulled away, Areti was panting lightly. He found it hard to meet the amused eyes of his usually stoic friend. Words were even harder to come by and he instead settled for moving his hands back to where they belonged in his lap and trying to catch his breath. 

“I think…” Petros said, the way they swallowed the only thing that told him that they were just as affected by the whole thing. “I think I’d like to read that letter now, if you don’t mind.”

It took him a moment to register the words, mind still lingering on the two kisses they’d shared in such a short space of time. His body moved before his mind had caught up, handing over the letter with only a slight tremble. Petros was still staring at him while he opened the envelope, amusement turning into concern. 

“Are you alright, my friend?” they asked. 

And wasn’t that a stark reminder of the truth? The kiss was a gift, not something for him to indulge in. He had tried so hard to remember that for the first gift, but the second had been something entirely different. And yet, that too was a gift, one for Ambrus this time. If he was going to help them, then he needed to do better. 

Still, even as Petros read the letter that most likely described their strange little agreement, Areti couldn’t stop the little thrill that ran through him at the thought of having to give that gift to Ambrus when next he saw him. With that came the worry that he was getting in too deep, but that was easily shoved aside, something he could concern himself with should the matter ever arise.