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Thing is, Peter does mind. He minds a lot, actually, when he finds out that Edmund had taken off in a space pod and gone gallivanting into alien territory into what is possibly the most hare-brained attempt at negotiating for landing rights. By alien Peter really does mean alien, with multiple appendages, tentacles for hands, some without eyes even. He'd land Cair Paravel on a planet teeming with aforementioned alien life over his dead body.

'What the hell did you think you were doing today, huh?' Peter growls. His eyes are glittering, and he's gripping Edmund's hips hard, fingernails digging into his pale skin, leaving tiny red crescents all over.

Edmund grunts, clenching his fists against the bedsheets. He's on his hands and knees, thighs trembling as he keeps them together. Peter's thrusting between his thighs, cock rubbing against his sensitive balls. The friction against his inner thighs is unbearable, fuck, he needs more than just this. He needs more than just the endless teasing, but given how Peter's actually growling, there's no way he's going to be able to get any more than this. 'Did you really think there was any other way?' Edmund barely manages. 'We're dealing in, fuck, uncharted territory. Alien, ahh! May I remind you, dear brother, of the need for alien diplomacy instead of bullishly attacking any potential hostiles we meet in space,' he gasps.

'That's why you don't go out there alone, goddamn it, you wait for me—'

'And what, leave the mothership without her captain? What a fucking joke,' Edmund snorts derisively, tugging hard at the bedsheets. Fuck, to hell with Peter, he's going to get himself off. He shifts, reaching for his cock, only for Peter to land a slap on his arse. 'What the fuck?'

'And what, leave you bare to the aliens to do as they please with you?'

'Why must you make it sound like—'

'You've seen them, they slobber over just about anything and they'd easily strip you and have their way with you, did you really think that diplomacy would be necessary on this side of the galaxy in the face of such aggression?'

'That's your own fucked up fantasy, isn't it? You'd want to see me put on display like that, fucked by alien cock,' Edmund snarls. And fuck, as much as he's trying to put on a front, trying to rile Peter up, the thought of such a scenario is turning him on even more and it's ridiculous. Aliens tearing his clothes off, all eager to fuck him, and he can hardly resist their slimy tentacles roaming all over his bare skin, pushing his legs apart, desperate to bury their cocks inside him. Edmund can barely catch the drool leaving his parted lips, and fuck, his cock is leaking all over the sheets already and this is making it worse, what an embarrassment.

'Don't blame me for your exhibitionistic tendencies,' Peter grunts. His voice is low and rough in Edmund's ear, then he's flipping Edmund on to his back, fisting both their cocks in his hand. 'You're mine, you know. But look at just how wet you've gotten, thinking about someone, no, something else touching you. Are you sure you're really out to promote friendly relations or just to fulfil your pathetic kinks?'

'Fuck you—'

'Gladly,' Peter grins. And all it takes is a few more strokes of his hand before he's coming all over Edmund.

Edmund shouts when he comes, getting it all over his face, much to his embarrassment. God, he fucking hates Peter. What an insufferable arsehole.