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They’re fighting. When aren't they? They've got their swords to each other's necks, anger and bloodlust in each other's eyes.
But it's an awful predicament. They hate each other. They're rivals. It makes this all the more awkward.
Mercutio is on top of Tybalt, with his sword pressed up against his neck, and a leg between his thighs. That's the issue. Tybalt is very noticeably hard. He would happily let Mercutio kill him right now to spare him this embarrassment. A stain on the Capulet name.
"Come on then. Go ahead. Kill me." he mutters, trying to air out the tension - so thick their swords wouldn't pierce it.
"Now that would spare you the humiliation. Pray tell, why would I show you mercy?" Mercutio would never admit it, but Tybalt is very unfortunately his type. Some horrid part of him feels excitement about being over the other.. the idea of taking him apart and ruining him. He snaps out of it when Tybalt squirms.
"Please. Kill me. Or leave and we may never speak of this again." He's flushed red hot from embarrassment. He would gladly throw himself off the Capulet manor's highest tower if it meant this never happened.
"Oh, this?" the brunette teases, nudging his knee slightly closer. Tybalt would prefer to be stoned to death than this. To be put in the gallows than to have his biggest enemy see him at his weakest.
"This is a joyous sight. The King of Cats sprawled out on his back, red in the face, begging to die? Oh, how I'd never thought I'd see the day. A miracle." Mercutio sighs, then. "Listen, Capulet. I won't tell anyone. However, I'd imagine you need some... assistance..?"
No fucking way. This must be a joke. A jest, a ruse. He wouldn't offer that.
"Now isn't the time to make fun of me. Just kill me or let me leave. I swear to you that our next clashing will be legendary. I will ensure that you’re given a proper burial after I-"
He's cut off by another nudge of Mercutio's knee. He looks down to see his own shame and- Lord almighty. It appears he isn't the only one enjoying this.
"As I said, Capulet. I'm willing to help you."
"I would rather be skinned alive than request you to help me with anything."
"It's a simple yes or no question. You're stalling. What.. does a cat have your tongue? How ironic."
Tybalt considers. If he agrees, perhaps Mercutio will lure him to his doom, and he will die and be a disgrace to his family. If he disagrees, Mercutio might announce to the whole of Verona that the King of Cats himself got hard at the idea of his rival on top of him.
Some part of him that must not have been his brain replies. "I.. I am not opposed to that.”
Mercutio almost jumps off of him before pulling him to his feet. "Lovely." He exclaims.
And then he's being pulled away to.. wherever the other lives. Once they arrive they go to his room. Boring, bland, sad. He is all but tossed onto the bed. Before he can say a word, their lips are pressed together. There's no grace to it. It's lips and teeth and spit and tongue, and it's all Tybalt has ever wanted. They stay until they can’t breathe, until they are forced to part. Mercutio smirks and says, "Was that your first?"
Tybalt averts his eyes. Christ, this is the most shameful day of his life. He notices the brunette removing his own shirt and nods.
"So you're virgin. I can't promise I'll be gentle. I know you can handle it, as you've handled so many fights in your life."
He has nothing to say. He just nods once again as Mercutio tugs his clothes off as well. They're both well built. Not too skinny, not too muscular either. Just some pleasant medium. He feels a hand wrap around him and he has to stifle a groan. His hips buck up against his grip. He does this for a while. But then Mercutio brings two fingers to Tybalt's mouth.
"Suck." He commands.
"Absolutely not. Are you mad?"
"I wasn't asking." Then he pushes them in. He very reluctantly does as asked. Then they're soon pulled out. His hand speeds up, and Tybalt shuts his eyes. It's nice to have someone else in control for once. He's content with this until he feels wetness rubbing against his taint and almost flies off of the bed in bewilderment.
"What the hell do you think you're doing."
Mercutio laughs. Laughs at him.
"Preparing you, genius. See, I knew you were a virgin. I'm proud to be your first, Capulet."
He wants to die all over again. His rival leaning over him. Jerking him off with two fingers against his ass. He wishes to jump out the window to their right and let Mercutio watch.
Then the brunette sighs and pulls back his fingers. "Is this alright? I do hate you, but not so much as to do something like this that you don't desire."
"I don't know."
"How helpful."
Tybalt frowns. "I haven't done this. Ever. Won't it hurt?"
"It hurts for everyone's first. But then it goes away and all you feel is good. I won't hurt you like this."
It takes him a while, but eventually Tybalt replies.
“..Fine."
"If you don't like it, just tell me. I'll stop. And we can go back to fighting like dogs on the street and you can walk away all worked up." Bastard.
He feels the fingers return to their spot, and one pushes inside. He grips onto the sheets, white-knuckled. It doesn't hurt so much, just feels odd. He really didn't expect today to end with his rival's fingers up his ass. It pushes a little deeper.
"Just breathe."
It squirms around inside him and it's almost nauseating. It’s feeling around inside him, searching.. and then it curls and a rush of pleasure courses through him. This time he can't stifle his sound.
"Oh, there it is."
He curls his finger once more and Tybalt bucks his hips. It really does feel good. He'd never admit it, not with a sword pressed up to his chest. Not with a noose around his neck or a guillotine dangling over him. The feeling of another finger up against him pulls him out of his thoughts. It joins the second and now there's a stretch. Not painful, but not pleasurable. The brunette gives him a moment to adjust, but then he's pushing deeper and curling his fingers into that spot once more, thrusting them in and out. It's so good. He almost mewls as Mercutio's fingers continue their relentless pace against that spot inside him. They spread every so often, clearly preparing him to take more than just fingers. The brunette smiles, hovering over him. And then all stimulation is gone.
"Wuh.. Why did you-"
"I don't want you to finish just yet. I have needs too." Mercutio says, gesturing downwards to his own arousal.
"This isn't about you," Tybalt hisses. "You offered to help me. Not yourself."
"Shut your mouth, Capulet. I'm not done with you." And their lips are together again.
Mercutio spreads Tybalt’s thighs wide open. Again with that feeling, wanting so badly for a pit to open up under them and swallow him whole. This is so embarrassing. He growls.
“I’m not going to do this with you on top of me. Not with my legs spread like a prostitute.”
“How else? Do you plan to ride me? You couldn’t figure that out if you tried. It won’t hurt to be embarrassed for one day. You won’t be thinking about it for much longer.”
Now where’s an assassination attempt when he needs it? Perhaps a rabid animal could sneak in and eat him alive. Spare him this horrible man who thinks Tybalt would ever be submissive.
Mercutio sighs. “You’re unbearably pathetic. You’re pouting. See, this is why we hate each other,” He pulls Tybalt up. “Sit on my thighs. I suppose it’s better than you frowning like that.”
He considers. Then he does it. The brunette reaches to grab some oil, and slicks himself up. If anyone found out that Tybalt Capulet himself was a faggot, he’d surely be banished. Or hung. Perhaps it’s worth it, for this. Then Mercutio pushes himself inside. And it feels odd. Not painful. Not pleasurable. Just pressure. He grits his teeth and looks down at Mercutio, grimacing.
“I hate you. Why am I here? I want you dead. Why would I ever have listened to a man so stupid that he thinks he can best me?”
The brunette does not reply verbally. He instead replies with a buck of his hips into Tybalt. His incessant yammering about hate and rivalry is interrupted by a groan. It truly does feel good, hitting that spot inside him and making his dick twitch.
They continue this. Tybalt can’t really manage a sentence. He just babbles “I hate you.” over and over. He looks angry, with his eyebrows furrowed, mouth curled into a frown. But with every thrust he falters a bit more. Mercutio angles his hips a bit to hit Tybalt’s prostate more often, and the response is whiny, pathetic moans. He can’t keep up that shitty façade when there’s a dick up his ass.
“Fuck you,” he spits. “Disgusting. Faggot.” He hates Mercutio. Hates the fact that he’s inside of him, hates that he’s so into this, into Mercutio (even if Mercutio is currently into him.) There is no love in his eyes, just hate. And pleasure, which is rising inside of him like a wave. He shuts his eyes once more and groans. It’s too good.
“Fuck.. God.. You’re horrible.” Why hasn’t Mercutio killed him yet? He’s at his weakest, with his head down and his dick hard. So easy to do away with him, be it a sword or a dagger, or poison, or strangling.
He can’t do it. His head lolls back with no elegance at all. Mercutio takes advantage and bites down on his neck, leaving a bruise in a spot that would appear over his collar. Announce to all of Italy that he’s some stupid whore who can’t even keep it in his pants for his worst rival.
“Fuck, fuck, Mercutio. I’m so- Fuck.” He pants out between groans.
Mercutio almost grins, a shit-eating grin, so proud to have taken him apart like this. “Me too. I hate you so much.” There’s no malice behind it. Sickeningly sweet.
Mercutio’s hips stutter in their rhythm, but he does not finish. Not before Tybalt. But he’s lucky. He reaches down to grab the other man’s dick and stroke him off along with his thrusts, and it’s not even seconds before-
“Goddamnit.. I can’t-” And his back arches, moaning so loud his throat must hurt, releasing into Mercutio’s hand. Mercutio doesn’t last after that, slamming Tybalt’s hips down and cumming inside him. The feeling would be gross, were Tybalt not practically drunk on the pleasure.
The brunette pulls back and out, and falls backwards into the pillows, taking Tybalt with him. They’re both panting, sweaty and exhausted. Their stomachs are sticky with cum and Tybalt’s thighs are a disgusting mess. Mercutio pulls the other man’s head, making them face each other, and they kiss once more. More gentle this time, but still with tongue. When they pull back, Tybalt is surprisingly quiet.
“..I hate you.” Tybalt huffs.
The brunette smiles and replies. “Yes, you have said that already.”
“But I didn’t hate that. I just hate you.”
Mercutio is far too gentle with Tybalt. He runs his fingers through his long black hair, then trailing his hand down lower to caress his back. The touch makes Tybalt’s skin crawl. He loves it.
“Are you open to doing this again?”
“I hate you. Why would I?”
“Clearly you don’t, because you’re filled with my cum and letting me play with your hair.” Christ.
Tybalt just nods. He is open to it, because he’s never been touched before and this is honestly all he’s ever wanted, if not more. Mercutio then taps his hip and chides “Well, we should clean up. Can't have you all gross when you get back home.”
The brunette wipes their stomachs off, wipes Tybalt’s thighs. He doesn’t really want to leave. But still, he sits up to grab his clothes.
“You don’t have a curfew, do you?”
“No, I don’t. But I don’t ever stay out, unless it's to fight.”
“Ha. Of course. Well, you’re welcome to stay.” the brunette says, leaning close to him.
He shoves Mercutio away. He’s sick of the kindness. They’re rivals.
“We aren’t supposed to do this. We hate each other, right?” He looks so angry.
“We don’t have to be.”
But it makes him more upset. “Why ask me to stay? I want you dead. You want me dead. It’s how we got here in the first place.” He digs a dagger from the pocket of his pants, still on the floor.
“I’ll kill you myself. This was all a ruse, I’m sure,” Lord, he’s a fool. “Just a ploy to distract me, to make me weak.”
“Then why haven’t I done anything? You were just allowing me inside you without any complaint, and I didn’t hurt you.”
Tybalt thinks. “Perhaps a long con. Get me comfortable. Strike while I’m asleep.”
Mercutio just sighs. “You’re an idiot. I won’t kill you, not tonight. Tomorrow, I may answer differently. I may want your head on a pike. But tonight, I do not hate you.”
He slumps down. He really is a fool. He believes Mercutio. What a fool. He tosses his clothes back onto the messy pile on the floor, along with his dagger. He’s pulled down onto the pillows once more. He’s less tense.
“Just for tonight,” Tybalt breathes. “I’ll stay, just for tonight.”
The sheets and blankets are pulled up over them both. “Just for tonight.” Mercutio replies.