Peter put up a hand to Edmund’s shoulder and gripped, stopping him in the middle of his walk as if the sparse touch of his hand, calloused burly and strong had sent a jolt through his body. To all who stared it might’ve just seemed like a gesture of male confraternization between the two brothers but Edmund couldn’t help the rush that came to his chest (and other lower parts), he knew what it meant.
Edmund didn’t have to hear the whispers coming out of Peter’s lips and that roughtly translated to “I’ll get to you later”. Thosee whispers Peter lowly proclaimed near his ear to know what was coming, Near as they were, nearer than even his sisters had been to him they had developed their own secret language, one that could set in on the throes of antecipation.
To a casual observant the short touches and little smiles, if noted would be taken as signs of brotherly care, they would be taken as two men, two great Kings of Narnia holding themselves to such a masculine position of authority that they would not hesitate to show care for each other. It would seem to all that there was innocence within those touches, that there was nothing more to them, certainly nothing to be concerned about.
And yet Edmund knew better, taking care to adjust his robes so as to achieve comfort a conspicuous concealment of certain parts of him that threatened to engorge themselves he moved with a new set of determined steps. The day had been long, as most days were long, Peter and his hands Emund could say so much about had long been held to other functions, to training and managing the sword and to keep the borders of Narnia well guarded and protected. Edmund, far more fair and far more delicate in his figure and shoulder broadness had taken to different tasks. The same avid mind that consumed him with guilt over his earlier actions with the White Witch had also given me a silver tongue and a propensity towards numbers. He daelt with documents as Peter dealt with bloodshed and battles. Effectively and like no one else.
Still other than the dinners that they made sure to attend to, within esteemed guests or, rather rarely, their private chambers their difference in schedules and activities meant they did not have much time to hang with each other, as boys roughhousing that hadn’t been so bad, but then they hadn’t been boys in a long while. Edmund had only to think about Peter’s discoveries...of him, of women, of pleasure to know.
Blush in his face, shoulders straightened and determination in his eyes Edmund moved. The wait for Peter was simultaneously the most painful and delicious sensation he could think of- When he had been made king of Narnia, or one of the kings of Narnia as it were at first Edmun had been overwhelmed with all the luxuries provided. A child during the 1930’s and having to share a room with his siblings when escaping from a war he had never had much privacy. Sometimes it hadn’t been too bad, he had seen his brother move in when he thought them all to be sleeping, he had seen them him get lost on it all and that filled his fantasies, not to mention his dreams, with images he treasured.
But now he could say that the large amount of space was something he rather enjoyed, it allowed his clumsy fingers, and his barely held moans to not be investigated, it allowed his passion for men to remain a secret, or, as much of a secret as something everyone knew to be.
It was the sort of open secret that his siblings were aware of, Peter even more than the rest, but that was not exactly discussed, as many things were not. Whenever they found themselves as a family in a hunting trip, or dinning the issue always seemed to be deflected so the focus was turned on something else. The affairs of Narnia perhaps, victories and needs and preparations for the future. Edmund thought them to be rather good kings and queens but he wondered how much of that was due to deflecting awkward or otherwise taboo issues.
Not that he didn’t enjoy the hunting trips or other sorts of distraction, when his mind was so often filled with numbers and decrees and the pleas of creatures, when he spent so much time thinking that his head hurt and his eyes ached letting go of his well thought out actions and just letting himself get lost in the thrill of the chase was something he enjoyed. Though were he honest with you he enjoyed the night’s activities even more. In a tent, with his brother, other creatures and his sisters in a separate tent for what he was quick to call modesty they were quick to lose themselves on one’s embrace. Half gagged moans, silenced with kisses the cold weather outside, often snowy seemed inconsequential.
Aslan wouldn’t enjoy the comparison he was sure but as blasphemous as it would be he could not compare Peter to anything else. He had the strength of a lion and the same overprotective streak. As ready to be fair and upheld the law and the harmony between brothers as Peter was, as ready to get physical and commandeering as him, a son of Eve could be when it came to him Peter had the same gentle demeanor and need to please him as he had found on all men he had slept with.
Lovers, that’s what they were, Edmund found it hard to be scandalised or to judge his actions as wrong. Though there were objections that came to mind, the same sort of objections that no doubt would pass through the minds of everyone else were they to know the fact was he could not hold it against himself, or Peter. When he was dominated, made subservient despite his position as king…
He loved it, that was the truth. In a world with real, tangible magic, something he knew better than anyone there was nothing that could change his stance and position on the issue, magically or rationally or otherwise. Edmund had always liked science, and the studying of it. Many of his personal gold funds were spent pushing it forward, but even the most advanced of discoveries wouldn’t change how he felt.
It was a hangup, or perhaps it was fate. It was inaction towards what felt so good, a refusal to change what to him felt right. It was being spread and held. Feeling loved and wanted.
Edmund had never doubted that his brother cared for him, even when he applied the harshest of punishment however this physical manifestation of that, that feeling of intense satisfaction when he was filled and Peter seemed to lose the ability to make speeches or indeed to more than gasp…
How could he not love it? How could he oppose it? And sure he was not of child and he would never be of child, so being treated as a woman was perhaps not correct but Edmund did not much care for that argument. Edmund had once been lead astray by what he had called good feelings, by what he had thought was pleasure in what had turned out to be a trap.
But nothing could ever feel so right as this, nothing could feel so right as the touch of Peter’s rough lips and brisky cheeks, or the way his hands roamed through a man’s hard but flat chest.
No, belly to the soft bed sheets, eyes faced so as to watch anyone who’d enter his room Edmund couldn’t ever think of stopping. Though his bed was lined with furs and the most sumptuous and comfortable sheets in a texture he always loved to touch he had a feeling after tonight’s session he would push them to the side, spent and so so warm he would hold no need for them.
Maybe those who took care of cleaning, those who made sure the castle where he and his siblings resided was in order just like he and the others made sure that the Kingdom was in order thought him to have a different wench in bed every night. It was hard to miss his essence, and the smell that permeated all the way through morning…
But the truth was, if there was someone who lived for those nights, someone who loved to get on all fours and let themselves be used it was Edmund. It was unfit, perhaps, to be ridden, but to Edmund it was more than a physical need aching down there, it was more than being taken and losing control after having to hold it the entire day.
It was love, it was care. His brother had promised he would protect him, as he did his sisters and would never do to hurt him and Edmund truly believed it. Edmund knew Peter, or as the people had started calling him the magnificent. And sure Peter and him had argued before, just as Edmund had lied before, but there was no omitting what they felt for each other, late at night, when all others slept.
With bated breath Edmund awaited Peter’s arrival. Though he knew the castle to be cast in great silence he knew Peter to have to be careful. While he had the authority to walk wherever he so desired it would do good to not raise suspicions.
Finally there was a creak at his door, if Edmund hadn’t been expecting it it would have been easily missed so subtle it was. As a figure, wide shouldered and even made even larger by the shadow it cast under the candlelight appeared Edmund sighed in desire.
Nothing could ever feel so right.