Work Text:
The first time was an accident. 100 percent, must have been. They were both dead-tired, guards were down, things slip out. Insignificant, little blunders. Happens to the best of us.
It was late at night and Peter had been at it for hours already. 'It' being meticulous annotated paperwork. (Minds out of the gutter please, thank you.)
A trading corporation of Bears felt unjustly treated by Anvardian merchants and had thusly, approached the monarchs for mediation in the matter. Naturally, they had little chance but to agree, what with nothing even remotely comparable to lawyers in Narnia.
Peter was focused hard on copying down numbers. Edmund stifled a yawn.
"Could you pass me Borno's report?" Peter asked, palm out, not even taking his eyes off of his writings.
Idly, Edmund thumbed through a stack by his side, pulled the aforementioned document out and handed it over.
"Here you go," He said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Thank you, dear," Peter said and took it.
The hand in Edmund's face stopped. With suspicious eyes and a grim line for a mouth, he glimpsed at Peter. However, his brother was still frantically scribbling away, eyes glued to the ink forming into words. Edmund kept squinting, watching out for any telltale smiles. Nothing. He shrugged and stretched.
Peter hadn't even noticed. Obviously, just a mistake then. Edmund could and would forgive it, yes, he was that magnanimous.
Two weeks later they were celebrating in a two-bit tavern. The noise was raucous, the spirits high, the level of drunkenness higher.
Usually, Peter, as the ever responsible High King, knew his limit, but tonight seemed to be an exception. Tonight, he was just one of the normal folks. Farmhands, servants, smiths, potters, unemployed bums, they were all here.
From his secure spot at the bar Edmund watched his brother among his newfound gang of rascals. A burly, good-natured gardener - 'Never seen pumpkins the likes o' mine' - had slurred at Edmund five minutes ago as he had collected another round of foamy beer mugs. That same man now had his arm around Peter. They were swaying, their drinks were precariously swaying. Ed saw the worst already happening when- Oh, they started singing.
Edmund rolled his eyes amused and turned away, taking a moderate sip from his mead. It was a simple song of the farmer's lot. Young and unmarried, tending to his crops, watching them grow but alas, all he wants is a sweetheart he can tend do and watch a flock of his children growing up.
'Oh my sweetheart, my sweetheart, where are youuuuu~ '
The song ended in a deep vibrating baritone, that echoed out into an amenable silence before, suddenly, there was a crash and hard thud in rapid succession. Ed whirled around. The burly gardener had apparently reached his fill and promptly fell snoring to the ground. Every pair of eyes was on him. Then, roaring laughter.
Edmund dunked his drink and slid off the stool.
When Edmund touched his arm and he turned around, Peter's face lit up in a delighted smile.
"Let's go, I got a room for us," Edmund whispered into his ear.
Peter didn't answer but his pupil's blew just a tad wider.
If that drunk bastard thought Edmund would sleep with him while he was basically drugged off his mind then- Actually, he would.
Surely, Ed navigated Peter through the crowd and led him upstairs by the hand. Away from the noise and energy of the clientèle, the tiredness fell upon Peter's senses. Ed noticed the droop of his eyelids, the sagging of shoulders, the slowness permeating his movements. As soon as he had Peter ushered through the door, Edmund locked it securely.
Without further ado, Peter promptly collapsed face first onto the bed.
"Gee," Edmund shook his head. "At least take your shoes off."
Peter mumbled something indecipherable into the pillow but moved not.
Fine, then.
"You know, I'm not your page," Ed grumbled as he unlaced and pulled at Peter's heavy boots. With a heavy thunk they sailed to the ground. As reaction only a muffled reply from their graceless High King.
Ed threw him another annoyed look before taking his own shoes off. Shirts and pants followed. Another unintelligible attempt at speech from his brother. Edmund climbed into bed.
"Turn around, will you?" He shoved at Peter's side. "I can't understand a word you're saying." And also at this rate, you might well be suffocating and who would have to take the blame for that? That's right. Edmund. No, thanks. So, don't die or whatever, not like he cares.
Sluggishly, Peter let himself be rolled onto his back. His eyes were closed but a distant smile was nevertheless etched onto his face.
Edmund chanced a glance at his crotch, then pouted. Nothing happening in there anymore tonight.
He sighed, draped the covers over both of them, blew the candle out and lay down for his well-deserved sleep. His back was decidedly faced towards Peter.
The candle smoke permeated the air a little longer and Ed could still hear the faint buzz from downstairs. He burrowed deeper into the cushions and let his breathing relax.
Promptly, Peter started humming.
In the dark, Edmund's eyes opened in a murderous glint. His hand fisted into his pillow, ready to yank it out and bring it down on his brother's head in a feathery knock-out.
"Where are... you... " Peter sang-mumbled. "Where're- ou... "
It was the same tune from earlier. A hand touched Edmund's spine. Just the tips at first, the fingers bending against the muscles in his back, then the palm flattened against his skin.
It was warm, and nice, as if it had always belonged there. With an exasperated sigh, not at all meant to mask his smile, Ed turned around and took the hand in his.
"I'm here," He whispered. "Right here."
"My sweetheart," Peter murmured, his own smile coming clear through.
"Go to sleep, already," Edmund complained and proceeded to inch forward until their foreheads connected. Just so he could transfer the rising heat in his cheeks back to its creator.
Ed was starting to think these pet names weren't wholly accidental, after all. It was one thing for something like that to slip out once but at the rate it has been happening lately, Ed couldn't help but suspect something to be up.
A week after that drunken incident, Peter had come late to bed. Edmund was only there because he had fallen asleep waiting for him. Naked and prepared and all that. When Pete finally showed up, he merely climbed between the covers and pressed a quick kiss to Edmund's mostly asleep face. The “Night, hun” Ed didn't fully register until he woke up the next day.
Three days after that Peter brought him coffee since Ed had decided not to go to bed until he had figured out the best way to deal with a particularly nasty wrong-doing between a landlord and their farmer. He'd barely noticed Peter as he had placed the cup down and began to massage Ed's shoulders for a minute. Maybe he had thought he could coax Edmund to finish for tonight. But when he was in this focused mood, he would not be stopped. So eventually, Peter gave up. He dropped his face down far enough until he could press his cheek to Edmund's. His hand wandered over Edmund's chest, down his abdomen, right over his crotch.
"I'm off to bed," he nuzzled.
Edmund made a vague affirmative noise. They hadn't had sex in over a week now but if Edmund stopped now, he'd only fall right asleep, so there was no point in reacting or even encouraging Peter's attempts and obvious cues. Then Peter smiled and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"Don't overdo it, love," he said with a last press to his shoulders and was off.
This only trickled into Edmund's full conscience when he read over the note he had just composed.
'Send inquiry to magistrate but don't overdo it, love'
After staring at the last word with a crimson head, Ed decided to go to bed, after all.
Then the last time was only yesterday.
They had been out hunting with some fauns and centaurs. Ed was in the lead, he could already taste victory- when Peter overtook him at the last bend and snatched up the prize right before his eyes, cackling triumphantly.
Ed gave his displeasure ample voice. It did nothing to dampen his older brother's victorious mood.
"Come now, don't be angry," he tried to placate. "You've done well enough. Next time, I'm sure, you shall put me in my place, pet."
Edmund felt terribly mocked and consequently went off into another raging rant, so that he entirely missed the name until Peter, still laughing, rode back to the rest of their party.
" -And don't call me pet!" He yelled into an empty clearing, red as can be.
He was musing about this while making his way to Peter's bathing chamber. He was reasonably sure that he'd left one of his tunics there, one that he liked very much, one that had for some 'unknown' reason suffered a tear last night.
Yes, I don't know how that could have happened either, Mrs. Badger but please mend it for me? And also pay no attention to my fierce blushing?
He strode quickly through Peter's room and slammed open the adjoining door to his bath where he was met with a waft of hot steam.
"Gee, Ed, try to be louder, will you?" Peter smirked, all relaxed in his tub.
"Why the hell are you taking a bath in the middle of the day?" Edmund said, startled a moment ago, he remembered his tunic and went right to the hamper.
"I've been sparring for three hours straight."
"Have you seen my blue silk tunic? I thought I had left it here... "
"Mrs. Badger came by this morning, I gave it to her."
"You did what?!" Shocked, Edmund let all the bundled clothes fall. "Why did you- You can't just- What will she think! One of my ripped shirts among your stuff!"
Unbothered, Peter only shrugged.
"Well, just make sure to explain it to her," Edmund said and turned away, pushing the door open with unnecessary force.
"Going already? I had hoped you'd join me, darlin'."
Edmund stopped dead in his tracks, the door swinging back in his face.
"There you go with this again...," he said quietly.
"Whatever do you mean?" Peter said, desperately trying to suppress a grin.
"Oh, you know exactly what I mean."
"I'm sure I don't have the foggiest."
Defiantly, Ed turned around, hands balled to fists.
"These... names you keep calling me!"
A pleased smirk stretched over Peter's mouth.
"What about them?"
"I'd thank you very much to stop using them."
For a moment they both regarded each other. Peter, with his insufferable mirth in his eyes and Edmund, feeling way too hot all over, being put on the spot like this.
"Oh, I don't think I will," Peter said finally. "Not when you keep making faces like that."
"Why, you!" Edmund exploded, grabbing a bar of soap from the basin and flinging it to his nuisance of a brother.
Peter shielded his head with his arms but his laughter still followed Edmund all the way out into the hall.
Twenty minutes later found Edmund pouting on his bed, staring out over the balcony to the easy blue of the sky, the sea breeze rolling up and billowing his curtains.
His door opened and shortly after Peter quietly joined him on the bed. Not cuddling up, Edmund hated that, but close enough that the tiniest movement would have them touch.
A tentative finger landed on Edmund's biceps and slowly travelled down his arm like the itsy bitsy spider.
"I'll stop if you really want me to."
"I really want you to."
An amused huff hit Edmund's neck.
"Yeah, see, I feel like you need to look me in the eyes when you say that or I can't actually believe it."
An annoyed little grumble under his breath but Edmund shifted his hips around. Determined, he looked into Peter's eyes.
"I really want- Rude!" Edmund exclaimed. His fingers were clamped over Peter's lips, who as soon as Edmund had opened his mouth, moved forward in pursuit of a kiss.
Edmund glowered at him but Peter only smiled delighted until Ed's fingers eventually released him.
"That's just what I mean. How could I possibly stop when it takes only such small acts to make you blush so sweetly.
Stunned for a second, Edmund's face quickly contorted in indignation.
"How dare you, you insolent scoundrel! You impostor and fiend! Out of my bed, you!" Ed clamoured. His feet trying to shove his brother away and his hands flying in ineffective fists to his head and chest. Although already humiliated by the fact that he was not physically strong enough to move Peter even an inch, it was by far worse how hard his brother kept laughing!
Naturally, this only incited Edmund to double his efforts. So, he placed his feet on Peter's thighs and his hands on Peter's shoulders and pushed. Instead of his desired effect, namely having the High King most ungracefully flail off the bed, he found himself trapped under him.
Before Ed could release all his anger in a final shove, Peter moved swiftly to pin Edmund and all his angry limbs beneath him.
"Unhand me this instant!" Edmund yelled, wiggling with all his might. "You puny bean-plucker and berry-sniffler! You unimaginable sod! Thickheaded, boorish oaf! I'll have you flocked, quartered and disassembled into forty tiny pieces! I'll- !"
"Edmund," Peter laughed, barely struggling despite Edmund's hefty efforts."Ed, calm down, you'll shriek yourself unconscious."
"Shriek?!? King Edmund, the Just, does not shriek! He bellows and roars and strikes mortal fear into the heart of any-!"
Peter was literally guffawing at this point, causing one of Edmund's wrists to escape his grasp. Instantly, it attached itself to Peter's ticklish side. His brother bucked above him at the unexpected attack, facilitating Edmund 's other wrist to be freed, as well.
"Now you'll have my vengeance!" Edmund exclaimed, by now more gleeful than actually serious.
"No, sto- Ed, stop, no- " Peter pushed out between his giggles and gasps of teary-eyed laughter.
A while longer the brothers grappled, before eventually, the tussle ceased and they lay still. Edmund still more or less trapped beneath Peter's bulk. Slowly, their winded breathing recovered.
"I'll tell you why I do it," Peter whispered right by his ear.
"It's fine," Ed said. "You like to make fun of me, I get it."
"True, but also only a tiny, tiny part of it."
Seconds passed, Edmund felt his chest expand in counter rhythm to Peter's.
"All right, you got me," He relented. "Why do you do it?"
"Because you asked me to."
For a moment Edmund let the cogs in his brain rattle but he came up empty.
"What are you on about? I'm pretty sure I would know if I suddenly lost my mind and ask crazy stuff."
"Ah, so I was right all along. You actually forgot," Peter said. "Or possibly just repressed it," he teased.
"Just tell me already," Ed grumbled.
"All right, all right. Remember a little over a month ago, we had slept together in one bed for a whole night for the first time, and I gave you a little... present?"
Ed's face contorted in thought but it was just for show. The memory came easy. How could Edmund ever forget that morning... the whole day for that matter...
He had woken up to Peter's tongue inches deep in his hole, licking and sucking at him hungrily. Edmund distinctly remembered the obscene noises and that needy moan that escaped him, how his fingers and toes curled. How he was already that close to coming, despite the night's drool still plastered to his cheek. Instinctively, he moved away from Peter's face. Peter didn't allow it, yanking him back hard, right onto his mouth. He remembers wanting to buck and move so desperately, needing but the smallest bit of friction for the finish line. But Peter's grip on him was vice like, holding him down and open. The rimming he received was so thorough it was only a matter of seconds before Ed began thrashing and begging to come.
"Please, let me- I can't- just, please, I need- !"
Just when he thought he was going insane from the endless stimuli, Peter let up enough for Edmund to tilt his ups up off the mattress. Both their hands met on his cock and together they worked the last couple of strokes.
Then he collapsed back down, his hole and cock still sporadically twitching. His breathing was uneven, sweat had formed all over his body but there was also a blissed out expression on his face. He meant to reach out, to tell Peter he'd be reciprocating gladly in form of a blowjob, just give him a minute but his tongue felt too heavy so he merely made a grabby motion into Peter's general direction.
Something else happened instead.
Something prodded at his hole. First, he thought it to be Peter's fingers and he was about to mention that he was already one mind-shattering orgasm in, before breakfast at that, so what exactly was he trying to do, kill him?
Instead, two small beads were pressed into him. It was a weird kind of pressure.
"Wha's tha'?" He asked exhausted.
Finally, Peter's head showed up in his periphery. He pressed the words to Edmund's temple.
"I'll be holed up with advisers all day," he said and Edmund felt a finger graze his rim. "It's something to make you think of me from time to time. Promise not to take them out."
Ed, still entirely fatigued only mumbled his vague assent and dropped back into a much needed, restful nap.
"Edmund, aren't you up, yet? Lucy and I have been waiting for over half an hour already," Susan pounded on his door, awakening him rudely.
"I'm com- I'm up, I'm coming!" He shot up and yelled back, slightly woozy and disoriented.
For a second longer, he looked around the room, wondering about his own sluggishness when the memory from two hours ago came back.
He grinned like a cat and stretched languidly. Then he felt those beads and stiffened a little. Testing, he moved his weight from one buttcheek to the other. Well, if all he'd feel was a bit of pressure all day against his prostate, he'd be fine.
So he slid off the bed and made for the bathroom. Three steps in and he almost toppled over, his hand coming down onto the night stand for steadying.
The beads- when they- When Edmund moved they vibrated.
"Ed, if you think Susan or I will saddle Philip for you then you got another thing coming! Now hurry up!" Lucy called from outside the hall.
Right. They had planned to ride out all day.
Promise not to take them out.
With a cautious step Ed continued bravely on his path.
"You're a dead man walking, Peter Pevensie."
By the time Edmund had dressed, run by the kitchen for a breakfast to go and arrived at the stables, he, for one, had managed to find a relatively normal way of walking but, on the other hand, had already a wet spot forming in his crotch.
"Finally!" Lucy exclaimed as she saw him come in.
"How nice of you to join us, your sleepiness," Susan mocked, fastening a strap on her riding boots.
Edmund merely gave a forced smile in return.
Everything was fine until Ed actually got into the saddle and Philip started walking.
Instinctively, his hands cramped around the reins and he only barely managed to cover his moan with a cough.
"You all right, Ed?" Lucy asked, genuinely concerned.
"You do look a bit flushed. Are you getting a fever?" Susan remarked, one hand coming up to Edmund's forehead. He swatted it away.
"I'm fine," he insisted. "Now where are we heading? So I can ride along and not have to wait for you slow, dainty dames."
Easily, his sisters went off talking about megalomaniacal little brothers and mocked him good-naturedly. He barely listened, all his senses focused on his leaking cock and thrumming balls. He tried to take a deep calming breath.
May Aslan be with him.
Eventually, their horses had warmed up and Susan and Lucy urged them into a trot. Philip followed automatically. Maybe five seconds passed before Edmund had to bite down onto his own hand.
"Phi- ngh, Philip- " He pushed out, his voice pathetically breathless to his own ears. "Please, don't- no trotting today, if you can help it."
"Your majesty?" Philip inquired, slowing back down to a walk.
Edmund had to get through a few shaky breaths first before he could even attempt to explain.
"I uh- I sustained an injury yesterday while sparring with the High King and- "
"Ed!" Susan called from up ahead. "What are you doing?"
"Coming!" He yelled back.
"Forgive me, your Highness, but if you are injured perhaps we ought to return to Cair Paravel."
"Oh no, that's fine, it's not as much of an injury as just an... unfortunately placed bruise."
"I see."
Slowly, they continued like this. He could scarcely see his sisters on the horizon now.
"Come on, Ed!" Lucy's voice echoed back. "We're not gonna wait around all day for you!"
Edmund let out a grave sigh.
"You know, Philip, while the trot might be too jostly for me today, I do think a gallop will be perfectly endurable."
"As you wish," Philip replied and dashed right off.
It was a miracle, that by the time he caught up with his sisters and they all galloped together for a while, he had managed not to come in his pants. Although, that's not to say he wasn't in hell, regardless. He could just imagine the angry red of his cock, the wet patch probably chafing soon...
He needed to touch himself so bad but at the same time he had promised himself Peter would be the one to release him from this torture and Edmund would decide just how exactly he'd have to go about it.
Then Susan proposed a little break, shakily Edmund landed back down on his feet.
By the lion, he could feel his thighs quiver and his hole clench involuntarily. His older sister provided a blanket and some light fruits and wine. Ed gratefully collapsed onto his knees, planning not to move a muscle for at least an hour.
With the welcome distraction of food and drink and easy chatter Edmund's body began to relax, even his constant companion of an erection flagged down. Breathing easier, he stretched a little and reclined onto his back, not at all opposed to a little nap.
"Oi, sleepyhead!" Lucy nudged his side with her foot. "Get up, you promised you'd show me that double-handed swing technique."
Ed blanched.
"But Lu, it's so nice and relaxed right now, can't we postpone it to later?"
"No way!" She sprang up and already rummaged around for the weapons she had obviously not forgotten to bring.
"For Aslan's sake, Ed," Susan smiled amused, the goblet shining in her hand. "Whatever have you been doing lately that leaves you so tired? A new paramour perhaps?"
In response Edmund groaned, he did not need to think of Peter doing exhausting things to him right now.
"Where are those swords, Lu?"
He took several steps to get into his position, the vibration from the beads still there but somehow duller. Maybe his nerves had been sufficiently numbed through the relentless stimulation of the last two hours, for him to get through this relatively intact.
No such luck.
Ten minutes after Edmund's demonstration and into their practice match, he was a complete mess. Panting and shaking wildly. His whole body felt flush and way, way too hot.
Lucy came at him again, he had to take a lunge and then twirl to the side out of reach. When their swords inevitably collided, a tremor ran through his whole body, weakening the resolve in his arms and making him moan aloud.
Lucy blinked confused.
"Say, are you all right, Ed? You don't look so well."
"I must agree, are you sure you're not running a fever?" Susan cut in.
Edmund, head held low to hide his red face and unfocused eyes, did not trust his own voice.
"His majesty did mention an injury to me earlier," Philip chimed in helpfully.
"Injury?" Susan asked, exchanging a worried glance with Lucy.
His little sister promptly let go of her sword and gently coaxed Edmund's from him, as well.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"It's not- It's not that bad," he said, probably not successful at all in reassuring them. "But I suppose, I do better ought to head back."
"We'll stay with you," Susan decided, already gathering the supplies back together.
"No!" Ed protested. "That's really not necessary. I'll be fine with Philip, you should continue on. You wanted to ride all the way to the reef today, didn't you?"
"Well, yeah, but- Are you sure?"
"Entirely," he mustered a smile and gingerly climbed back atop Philip.
"Be safe," they urged him.
"Have a lovely rest of a day," he answered and then Philip set off in a gallop.
"Get me back as fast as possible, please," He ordered. "I need to have a word with my brother."
The hard ride back, as well as the ensuing walk up to the castle and all the way to the conference rooms was pure, unadulterated torture. The last few hundred metres he had to brace himself against the walls to keep moving forward, at all. He did not even want to imagine what the servants passing him must be thinking. He felt like he'd been drugged and most probably looked like it, too.
It was barely past three o'clock at this point, the talks were undoubtedly far from being finished but Ed could not care less.
He needed Peter now.
Thus, Edmund opened the heavy oak door without so much as a knock, ensuring every single pair of eyes to zero in on him. He ignored them all, his heady gaze solely focused on his brother, whose startled expression turned quickly into a fond smile and even quicker into a devious smirk.
"I need- " Ed's voice broke off, sounding entirely too breathless, almost debauched even. He rasped. "I need to speak to the High King about a very urgent, pressing matter," he declared, much more regal than he felt.
A moment of silence filled the room. Peter's eyes raked over him with pleased mirth.
"Would you please excuse us, my most honoured friends?" Peter asked, never taking his hungry gaze off of his baby brother.
In tiny whispers the assembled shuffled out, passing the young King with curious glances. As far as Edmund was concerned none of them existed anymore anyway. His whole body was crying out for his High King, Peter, who moved not the slightest bit from his seat at the head of the table.
As soon as the door was closed behind them, Edmund walked on with wobbly legs. His expression as stormy as he could muster, he tried to recollect the little speech he had composed on the way here, all the things and names he meant to call his villainous lover. They all failed him now.
"Peter," he sobbed helplessly, almost yanking a chair to the ground as he stumbled. But his brother was there instantly, catching him.
"You poor thing," he said, cradling Edmund close to his chest.
The scent of Peter suddenly, finally so near, made Edmund whimper. But the feeling of hands on his overheated body made his cock twitch.
"Here, let me take care of you," Peter rumbled, pulling all of Ed's senses in with that trusting pitch to his voice.
He turned Edmund around, having his palms support him on the table while Peter moved up close behind. His strong hand cupping Edmund's strained erection.
"Look how hard you are, how wet already."
"Peter," Ed mewled, throwing his head back to be nestled on Peter's shoulder. Involuntarily, he began rocking into that solid warmth, rutting against it like an animal.
Peter's other hand moved to his chest, thumbing his clothed nipple. Edmund was so close.
"Yeah, that's it," Peter praised and Edmund felt the rush of climax settling in. "Such a good boy."
"Ah!" Edmund screamed, coming hard into his pants.
Peter kept murmuring things to him but Edmund could take none of them in, too overwhelmed still by the orgasm he had just experienced.
"Come on, let's have a look at you," Peter said and Edmund felt hands unfastening his soiled breeches.
He winced slightly as his cock was freed from the dampness. Then Peter's other hand found his bare arse, a finger running over his opening. He felt it pulse.
"Gee, Ed, you're getting me all worked up," Peter nibbled at his earlobe, pressing his hardness against him.
Edmund moaned weakly despite his exhaustion. Wanting Peter was so integral to him already, was as natural as needing water. Therefore, without much thought at all, he bend over, exposing himself for his brother's taking.
"Oh Ed, my sweet Ed," Peter smiled fondly, spreading Edmund's cheeks apart. Then he hooked both his thumbs into Edmund's slick, spasming hole. "Always so greedy. You still need more, don't you? Still need me to actually fuck you, as well."
"Please," Ed whimpered.
"But you're still full," Peter chastised. "Still got my present snug and warm inside you."
Edmund squirmed, pressing his ass further toward Peter.
"Want you."
Peter chuckled.
"Now, how could I ever deny a sweetly-worded request like that," he said, his fingers still prodding and caressing.
"Still. You better got on that table, the way you're shaking. Makes me doubt you could actually take me."
Thus urged, Peter released his hold and Edmund, leaving his pants behind, climbed on the desk. Quickly, he turned on his back, pressing his knees to his chest.
"There we go," Peter murmured and before Edmund knew it there was a tug. The beads made their torturously slow way out of him. His fingernails buried themselves into the fleshy part of his thighs until eventually the pressure was gone from his channel.
Peter held them up. Edmund now saw them for the first time. Walnut-sized, the metal shiny and slick from Edmund, a small cord attached between them, and a longer one from where Peter held them up.
"Sea-farers from the lone islands have their women wear them, while they're away. To keep them faithful and eager," Peter explained, his eyes on the oily toy, then they moved over to Ed, who could feel his face burning up again.
"How eager are you?" Peter asked.
Edmund held his gaze for a moment, then spread his legs.
Since there was no further lubrication at hand, Peter merely spit in his hand to get his cock wet for Edmund. Then he grabbed him around the thighs and yanked him forward until his backside hung over the edge.
"I'm gonna stuff your hungry, little hole so deep," Peter promised, lining up. "Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll go insane."
Edmund could do little but whimper in agony. Finally, Peter pushed forward, breaching and filling him, that it made Edmund gasp.
"So hot," Peter groaned. "Feels so perfect around me."
That way Peter began with languid, deep thrusts into his keening little brother, making sure that he felt every movement to the extreme.
Whenever Peter pulled out and Edmund clenched hard around him, he began to increase his pace and the fierceness of thrusts.
The quills and ink bottles shook and rolled precariously. Edmund's feet dangled in the air. Peter aimed ferociously at Edmund's sweet spot, watching satisfied how Edmund's cock filled for the umpteenth time that day, watching Edmund's face contort in a mix of pure agony and endless lust. When one of Edmund's hands let go of his leg in favour of getting to his cock, Peter pulled out completely.
Edmund actually reared up when he realized, trying with his hole and hands to grab hold of his brother, to keep him in place but it was for naught, Peter was quicker.
Like that, Peter stood, not unaffected, with a heaving chest and a hard, glistening cock centimetres from Edmund, with his spread legs and shiny hole, searching Peter's gaze forlornly.
"Why'd you stop?" He asked desperate and panting. "Come back."
Maliciously, Peter grinned, took a few more steps backward and sank down into a chair.
"I know how much you love to ride me and after all you've been through today, I figured- "
Edmund didn't need him to finish that sentence, in a millisecond he had jumped into Peter's lap.
"Mean," Edmund whined. "Mean."
Peter chuckled and stroked strands of dark hair behind his ear. But already Edmund had lifted his hips and grasped Peter's dick, inserting it right back where it belonged. Then he sunk down, gasping and clutching at Peter.
Ten seconds ago he had been so close to his second orgasm and now he had to get there all over again, so when Peter guided their slick, hot mouths together, Edmund bit him. The only result was a momentary smirk from Peter and then an even dirtier, coppery tasting kiss.
"Sadist," Edmund mumbled. "Cruel, barbaric sadist."
Low in his throat, Peter laughed and his hand reached behind Edmund, caressing the stretched rim of his opening, the slippery, fevery hotness of his speared open hole.
"Yes and you are my sweet, sweet victim."
Edmund keened and bore down harder on the length buried inside him. Their pace quickened swiftly, now that Edmund was mostly in control. He rode Peter with abandon, his head thrown back. Peter attached himself to the long line of his neck, right at the spot where Edmund was most sensitive. Peter's other hand had snaked under Edmund's shirt, pinching his nipples. He felt it washing over him again, this rush of intoxication and he fisted a handful of Peter's hair. There was no room for anything else now, only this intense feeling where they were connected.
"Say it again," he begged. "Tell me."
"Anything," Peter said against his throat, as breathless and close now as Edmund.
"Tell me I'm a good boy, call me names, say you'll never want to do this with anyone else."
For a moment there was nothing but the sound of their sweaty bodies working in unison. Peter had moved his head back and when Edmund chanced a glance, he saw pure wonder in them.
"Oh baby," Peter groaned and Edmund felt the familiar seize in his balls. His nails dug into Peter's skull as he came. "Only you, darling" he heard Peter say distantly. "Only ever you."
Then he passed out.
At least, he's reasonable sure he did because the next thing he remembered was a dank corridor, that he vaguely recognized as part of the secret passageways, and being carried and surrounded by Peter's scent. Then, when he woke next, hours later, he just remembered feeling rather sore all over.
Right...
Right.
It was all coming back to him now. And ah, there went his darn face again.
"You remember after all, don't you?" Peter teased.
"No," Edmund replied. "In fact I have no idea what you're talking about in any form, way, or capacity."
Peter searched Edmund's eyes mischievously for a moment.
"All right," he shrugged and let his head fall so his face was warm against Edmund's ear. For several seconds nothing happened. Edmund, forever trapped beneath Peter, began to shuffle a bit.
"Well now, that that's discussed, kindly let me up."
He only received an incomprehensible grumble.
"Come on, you old clod. Cuddling is against the rules."
"Mh, the rules," Peter intoned mockingly.
"Yes, the rules that we both agreed on and which you have now repeatedly dismissed with your name-calling and now this."
Peter shifted enough to uncover his mouth before answering.
"How about I'll give you a handjob in five minutes, then the no non-sexual cuddling rule is still nice and intact," he suggested treacherously sleepy.
"Well, I suppose if the action, although started without the intention of sex still ends in a sexual activity, I could turn a blind eye."
"Great," Peter huffed.
"But the pet names got to stop. Immediately."
"They fall into the same category, though."
"Bullshit."
"Why? They turn you on, don't they?"
Caught, Edmund was stumped for a second.
"You'll realize that most of the time you used them in instances in which sexual acts did not directly follow," Ed argued. "Also, I seriously doubt your motivation behind doing it in the first place was in any way in accordance with the rules."
"Yeah, the rules," Peter echoed again.
"May I remind you that you did in fact agree to them?" Edmund asked, getting rather annoyed.
"Well, maybe I felt like I had to agree."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Edmund felt the shift rippling through Peter's muscles before his face came back into view.
"Every non-brotherly activity we do has to be sexual," he said. "That was the rule you came up with."
"I'm well aware," Edmund said defiantly.
"Because you thought if we were intimate or, Aslan forbid, tender with each other in non-penis related ways one of us could develop feelings and things get messy."
"Anybody in possession of even a smidgeon of common sense could tell you that."
"Now, what if I tell you those sorts of feelings were already present long before we ever kissed or any question of rules came up?"
Edmund felt his throat go dry and a familiar heat fill his cheeks. He swallowed.
"Then you'd be an idiot," he uttered, pathetically quiet.
Peter smiled.
"I didn't say on whose side these feelings were," he whispered low.
"So?" Edmund glowered uncertain.
"So, you're my brother, Edmund, and I know you."
A terrible wave of panic rushed over him.
"Get off," he said, breaking eye contact.
"No."
"Peter, I said Get off!" He yelled, now struggling in earnest.
"And I said No!" He bellowed back, keeping Edmund largely immobile. "I know you came up with that rule to protect yourself because you wanted to be with me and that scared you- "
"Shut up!"
"And I agreed to it because I wanted you to have that safety, so I could show you- "
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
" -that there's nothing to be frightened of because I feel exactly the same!"
All fight left Edmund's limbs. Speechless, the realization hit him. He felt his chest rise, his heart fluttered like a startled bird. He could feel Peter's, too. Exactly the same...
"You like me?" He asked, voice awfully tiny.
Peter gripped him by the chin and turned their faces together.
"Much worse," he said. "I am besotted, hopelessly in love, even."
Ed swore one of these days his face would burn right off.
"You're an ass."
"Yes," Peter grinned, his thumb stroking over Edmund's mouth before he leaned in for the softest kiss.
When their lips parted again and Edmund had a moment to come to grips with the situation he pulled on Peter's ear.
"Now what about that handjob?”
Peter laughed, "Coming right up, love," and laughed and laughed and laughed.
A week later, the four monarchs sat at breakfast.
Peter was rattling on about some meeting they would all have to attend in a month's time and how important it was. Lucy and Susan listened aptly, while spreading butter and jam over their toasts.
Edmund himself was feeling and looking rather dishevelled still and therefore did not pay as much attention.
“Did you listen, Ed?” Peter admonished. “This is especially important for you.”
Edmund yawned, scratching his rumpled hair.
“Don't worry, Honeydarlingbabyboo, I've got it sorted.”
Susan spluttered into her orange juice, Lucy escaped a cackle and Peter, oh Peter, turned the most delicious shade of red.
Now how does that feel like, you mean, old pest, Edmund twinkled devilishly at him. Peter could not manage a single sound. Edmund's lips formed into a very, very pleased smirk.
In fact, he kept the smirk for the rest of the day, except for an hour there, when Peter had him bend over a desk and fucked him so thoroughly, it slipped right off his kiss-swollen lips.