Narnia fic bits: Peter/Narnia(/Edmund) and Peta/Caspian

[bedlamsbard]

"Pete," Edmund says softly from the open door of the cave, and Peter glances up from the maps he's studying. I've never seen you without a god-damned map, Edmund had said to him once. And not a one of them's ever of Narnia. I know Narnia, Peter had replied. It's everywhere else that's the problem.

"Ed?" Peter says, but doesn't move to set the maps aside.

Edmund shuts the door behind him, feeling the latch catch -- who the hell installed a latch on a door in a cave? -- and reaches down to pull his tunic off over his head, dropping it on the floor. Peter starts up, scattering scraps of paper to either side of him and snaps, "What the hell are you doing --"

Do you know, Edmund had asked him once, half-joking and half-serious, if it's me and not her? Peter had looked at him like he was insane and said, Of course.

"I've been out there," Edmund says, feeling reckless and coolly calculated all at once, undoing the laces at the collar of his shirt as Peter stands frozen, something dark flickering in his eyes. "Narnia needs this. You need this."

Peter's eyes glance up and down his body, once, then he looks away, face flushing crimson. "If she's not here, it's just sex," he says, and manages to sound like the words hurt him to say. "It's just -- Ed, I know what it's like out there. She's in my head, for the love of God!"

"Then she'll come, won't she?" Edmund says, pulling his shirt off too. He stands shiveriing for a moment in nothing but his breeches, then leans down to pull his boots off.

"Just stop," Peter says, suddenly very close. Edmund looks up to see Peter standing next to him, his hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically. "I don't --"

Edmund straightens, kicking his boots aside, and reaches for him. Peter catches his wrist, and they both shudder at the spark that leaps from Peter's skin to Edmund's. "Yes," Edmund says. "You do."

Peter freezes, his eyes wide, but his pupils are already blown dark and Edmund can feel the tremor in his hand. "Ed," he says, and his voice is shaking too, "tell me not to do this."

"You know I won't," Edmund replies steadily, even though he'd expected Narnia to take over just about now. Hell, he'd expected Narnia to take over as soon as he got back to the How, in range of Peter. But his mind is silent now; he's as alone in his own head as he usually is, and that's wrong.

At least Peter looks like he has company in the back of his skull. Although Edmund's not sure exactly when that started counting as a good thing.

Peter reaches forward with his free hand, tilting Edmund's chin up with two fingers. When he kisses him, it's soft and light, no tongue at all -- a question and not an answer.

And she's there.

It's the same gut-punch it always is, a sudden stripping away of all control, leaving him a stranger with his own skin. Watching, he can see Peter react to the change, relaxing visibly as the kiss turns to desperate want, Narnia -- Edmund -- shoving him back across the floor to his bedroll.

"Baby," he says, hands on her face -- and Edmund can feel them, familiar and callused, like Peter's touching him --

She digs her fingers into his shoulders once he's gotten his shirt off. "You left me," she says viciously, the words vibrating in Edmund's throat. "You left me and they hurt me and you left me --"

She sounds half-mad, or more than, and Edmund's aware of the edges of it beating at his consciousness. Peter draws one shaky breath, then another, his face drawn and strained. "I didn't --" he says, then stops, breathing hard as she gets the rest of his clothes off and wraps her hand around his cock. "Baby."

She shuts him up by kissing him, hard and messy, drawing blood as she digs her teeth into his lip. Peter kisses her back, hands across her back, pulling her down on top of him.





"Caspian," Peta says desperately as he pushes her skirts up around his waist and drops to his knees in front of her. He bunches the thick fabric in one hand and kisses the inside of her thigh, a butterfly brush of his lips, and then his mouth is on her, tongue swiping over her clit as Peta's hips come off the wall.

He presses two fingers into her from behind, silk brushing the back of his hand as he flicks his wrist experimentally. She's soaking wet and ready, one hand cupping his head while the other presses flat against the wall, and Caspian breathes in the taste of her. A hint of teeth makes her swear, the words liquid and strange as her hand tightens in his hair, and he moves his fingers inside her, trying to find the spot that makes her scream.

They're just off the castle's great hall, in a dark, narrow hallway that the servants use. They're close enough to the great hall that the music isn't at all muffled; Caspian can hear the light sound of voices beyond the tapestry that conceals the entrance to the passageway, Queen Lucy's laugh rising suddenly over the white noise of the crowd. Anyone could see them. His people -- who'd only see their prince kneeling before the High Queen of Narnia -- or hers. He doesn't care. Neither does Peta.

Peta makes a muffled noise, short and sharp, and Caspian takes his mouth away from her to look up. She has the edge of her free hand between her teeth, biting down to keep from screaming. Caspian mouths her clit again and twists his fingers, feeling the moment Peta breaks.

He kisses her with her taste still sharp and sweet together on his lips and tongue and Peta kisses him back, her mouth never breaking from his as she gets his trousers open. He braces his hands on the wall as he enters her. Peta wraps her legs around his waist, held up between his body and the wall. He drags his teeth over her neck, listening to her gasps. He pushes into her and Peta pushes back, words a broken stream in a multitude of dead languages, half prayer and half curse. Caspian muffles his gasps on her neck, feeling her clench around him with every stroke. He's losing his rhythm, speeding up and slamming her back against the wall, getting deeper inside her. The silk of her skirt laps against his bared thighs, and then Peta catches his head in both of her hands and pulls him up to kiss her, graceless and indelicate.

Caspian comes so hard he blacks out. When he manages to open his eyes again, breathing hard, it's to find himself sitting on the cold floor, Peta warm and welcome in his lap. He rubs his knuckles idly over his hip and she ducks her head to kiss him. "God, you're beautiful," she says softly. "I can't wait to get you in a bed."

Caspian draws in a sharp breath at the mental image of Peta spread out on his bed, naked and golden and his. "Tonight," he says, a rasp in his voice.

Peta kisses him one more time, her hand curling around the back of his neck, then straightens, freeing him so he can fix his clothes as she smoothes down her rumpled skirts. Caspian braces one hand on the wall as he gets up, tugging down the front of his tunic and running his hands through his hair. Peta rubs the edge of her thumb over the red mark on her neck -- one of the red marks on her neck. It's more than obvious what they've been doing.

"Peta," Caspian says softly, and when she turns toward him he presses her back against the wall and kisses her, a slow, langorous kiss that goes on long enough that his cock starts to get interested again. He steps back reluctantly.

"Tonight," Peta repeats after a moment, touching her swollen lips. She looks at Caspian with eyes that are suddenly wide with something unreadable. "Ed will be throwing a fit," she says at last.

Caspian offers her his arm and she slips her hand into the crook of his elbow, picture of elegant High Queen except for the marks on her neck. "He saw us leave the great hall," he admits, and sees the flush start to spread across Peta's face.

"Of course he did," she hisses, pulling the edge of the tapestry aside to glance out, then slips into the great hall with Caspian just behind her.

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[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

*laughs* Whoo, Peter/men! Boy has to get some loving.