Narnia fic: "Summerlong" (Peter/Susan)
May. 3rd, 2009 03:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardTitle: Summerlong
Author:bedlamsbard
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Rating: R
Summary: The end of summer in Narnia is marked by a change in the stars. A tag for These Last Golden Days of Summer, Golden Age, Peter/Susan, post-HHB.
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and all characters, locations, etc. belong to C.S. Lewis and descendents. Certain characters, locations, circumstances, etc. belong to Walden Media.
The end of summer in Narnia is marked by a change in the stars; that’s why everyone spends the night outside when they can. There’s only been rain twice, but tonight is clear, cloudless, and the full moon hangs low in the sky, huge and seemingly close enough that Peter feels he might be able to reach up and touch it. The constellation called the Firebringer is still in the ascendant, still visible; it’s still summer.
Like everyone else in Narnia, they spend their night outside under the open sky. There’s a minimal guard tonight, Sidonie’s courtesy on a festival day; most of the Guard are out with their own lovers, their own families. Edmund’s off with some woman, Lucy with – several someones, knowing her. It’s just them, Peter and Susan and a few members of the Guard at a respectable distance.
There’s not even a hint of encroaching chill in the air; it still feels like summer, though the heat’s receded from the oppressive humidity of midsummer. Narnia will stay like this for a few weeks yet, most likely; sometimes the leaves fall earlier, sometimes later, but one way or another, summer ends tonight.
Susan is curled in his arms, warm and sleepy and a little drunk on faun wine. Peter’s been drinking too, but no more than a few sips of wine an hour; he wants his head for this.
She bears no scars from Calormen, not on her skin, but Peter knows how to read beneath that, knows that the scars you can’t see are the deepest. Edmund’s written him and told him what he knows of what transpired in Tashbaan; so has Lucy. Her letters had been scathing; she blames him for what happened to Susan. But what they know is more guesswork than fact; Susan knows how to hold her tongue and keep her secrets. If Peter had known what Rabadash had done to her – if he’d guessed that Rabadash would dare – he would have left Harfang and broken Rabadash’s neck like a dog in the street.
Susan tangles her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, her breathing changing slightly as she wakes up. She presses a kiss to the base of his throat. “Hi,” she murmurs.
Peter tilts her head up with his fingers in her hair. “I love you,” he says, kissing her forehead. “I’ll wait as long as you want. I’m sorry I ever left. I love you.”
“I know,” Susan says, leaning up to press her mouth against his. Peter kisses her back, slow and warm, and doesn’t move his hands. All he’s doing is holding her, nothing more; it’s as innocent as they get.
She reaches for the buttons on his shirt, thumbing them open one by one. Peter lets go of her so that she can push his shirt off his shoulders, then lifts his arms so that she can pull his undershirt off over his head. “I waited,” she says. “I couldn’t let – Peter, he wanted –”
He cups her face in his hands and kisses her gently. “If he touched you,” he says, “I’ll kill him.”
Susan’s gaze flickers away, her eyes going distant. “He didn’t rape me,” she whispers. “He wanted to. But he wanted to send me a message more. He wanted to tell me that I couldn’t do a damn thing about him, that Narnia couldn’t – that Narnia couldn’t stand up to Calormen – that he could do anything he wanted –” Her voice breaks off on a sob and Peter wraps his arms around her, holding her as tightly as he can.
“I’ll kill him,” he promises.
She reaches for his face and turns it toward her, kisses him. “Aslan let him live. Wait until the year is up. Killing a prince of Calormen sends a much better message than killing an ass.”
Another six months. He can wait that long. There’s nothing he needs to say to that, because Susan already knows that he’ll do it, and if it was about anyone else, Susan would be the one telling him to be sensible, to be calm and think things through and not start an international incident. The fact that she’s not doing so tells him exactly what happened to her, and for that he’ll walk into Tashbaan with his sword in his hand and slaughter everyone in his path to get to Rabadash. He’ll conquer the damn country if he has to.
Susan says, “I want you. Please –” She reaches around to guide his hands to the line of buttons on the back of her dress.
Peter undoes them slowly, kissing her between each button. Susan pushes her dress down, squirming around slightly until she’s lying on top of the soft fabric. Peter kisses her neck, nipping at the spot just beneath her jaw that always makes her gasp.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, “what you want.”
Susan puts one hand on the back of his head, her touch light and sure. “I want your hands,” she says, “and your mouth, and you.”
“Where?” He presses a kiss against the bend between neck and shoulder, sucking a mark there that will show up tomorrow. He wants Narnia to see that the Prince of Calormen hasn’t broken their queen. There’s no need for him to finish the question, either; he and Susan both know it means, what did he do to you?
She takes a shaky breath. “I love you,” she says. “It doesn’t matter, Peter, it doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t.” She pushes herself up on her elbows, takes a slow, lazy kiss from his mouth. “I love you,” she says again. “I love you so much.”
Peter kisses his way down her neck to the space between her breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth, hears Susan gasp and feels her grip at his hair. “Peter,” she says roughly. “Peter.” She reaches down to push at his trousers; Peter works a hand between them to help her without taking his mouth from her breast.
He rolls over onto his back and pulls Susan on top of him, wrapping an arm around her waist as he kisses her. She cups his face between her hands, pulling back to look at him with something unreadable in her eyes.
“Su?” Peter says quietly.
She leans down and kisses him, long and slow and deep, and flips them again. He feels her fingers press against his spine as he settles between her thighs and kisses her again. Gods, it’s been so long since he’s touched her. He can’t even remember why they were fighting any more.
Her breath hitches as he slides into her, a soft, familiar gasp. She hooks her knees against his hipbones and reaches one hand up to cup the back of his head in one hand. Peter kisses the corner of her mouth, breathing hard as he starts to move.
They’re slow, familiar, absolutely certain of each other; there’s no need for doubt or desperation now. Susan’s breath is drawn ragged from her throat when she comes, warm against Peter’s mouth; he kisses her, a little messy now, closer to careless. She hitches her hips up to give him a deeper angle; Peter rocks into her twice more and comes, putting his face down into her shoulder to stifle his gasps.
Afterwards, Susan curls against him, taking lazy kisses from his mouth like there’s nothing else so fascinating in the world. “I love you,” she says again. “I love Narnia. I’m not doing that again, Peter, not even for politics, not even for a lie. I’m not.”
“You can do whatever you want,” he tells her. “Narnia’s not going anywhere. I won’t let anything happen again.”
“You can’t do everything, Peter,” she says, smiling sadly at him.
“We can damn well try together, all of us,” he says, a little sharper than he’d meant originally, and kisses her again to take out the sting.
“Oh, Peter,” Susan says, kissing him back. “I’m glad you’ve come home safely.”
He wraps an arm around her waist. The grass is cool against their skin; he stretches his legs out and digs his toes into the earth, feeling Narnia spread out vast and welcoming beneath him. She’s getting ready for autumn, getting ready to prepare for winter; the harvest is coming soon.
“Look,” Peter says, raising one hand to point at the stars. “The Firebringer’s been chased away by the Reaper. Summer’s over.”
Author:
bedlamsbardFandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Rating: R
Summary: The end of summer in Narnia is marked by a change in the stars. A tag for These Last Golden Days of Summer, Golden Age, Peter/Susan, post-HHB.
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and all characters, locations, etc. belong to C.S. Lewis and descendents. Certain characters, locations, circumstances, etc. belong to Walden Media.
The end of summer in Narnia is marked by a change in the stars; that’s why everyone spends the night outside when they can. There’s only been rain twice, but tonight is clear, cloudless, and the full moon hangs low in the sky, huge and seemingly close enough that Peter feels he might be able to reach up and touch it. The constellation called the Firebringer is still in the ascendant, still visible; it’s still summer.
Like everyone else in Narnia, they spend their night outside under the open sky. There’s a minimal guard tonight, Sidonie’s courtesy on a festival day; most of the Guard are out with their own lovers, their own families. Edmund’s off with some woman, Lucy with – several someones, knowing her. It’s just them, Peter and Susan and a few members of the Guard at a respectable distance.
There’s not even a hint of encroaching chill in the air; it still feels like summer, though the heat’s receded from the oppressive humidity of midsummer. Narnia will stay like this for a few weeks yet, most likely; sometimes the leaves fall earlier, sometimes later, but one way or another, summer ends tonight.
Susan is curled in his arms, warm and sleepy and a little drunk on faun wine. Peter’s been drinking too, but no more than a few sips of wine an hour; he wants his head for this.
She bears no scars from Calormen, not on her skin, but Peter knows how to read beneath that, knows that the scars you can’t see are the deepest. Edmund’s written him and told him what he knows of what transpired in Tashbaan; so has Lucy. Her letters had been scathing; she blames him for what happened to Susan. But what they know is more guesswork than fact; Susan knows how to hold her tongue and keep her secrets. If Peter had known what Rabadash had done to her – if he’d guessed that Rabadash would dare – he would have left Harfang and broken Rabadash’s neck like a dog in the street.
Susan tangles her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, her breathing changing slightly as she wakes up. She presses a kiss to the base of his throat. “Hi,” she murmurs.
Peter tilts her head up with his fingers in her hair. “I love you,” he says, kissing her forehead. “I’ll wait as long as you want. I’m sorry I ever left. I love you.”
“I know,” Susan says, leaning up to press her mouth against his. Peter kisses her back, slow and warm, and doesn’t move his hands. All he’s doing is holding her, nothing more; it’s as innocent as they get.
She reaches for the buttons on his shirt, thumbing them open one by one. Peter lets go of her so that she can push his shirt off his shoulders, then lifts his arms so that she can pull his undershirt off over his head. “I waited,” she says. “I couldn’t let – Peter, he wanted –”
He cups her face in his hands and kisses her gently. “If he touched you,” he says, “I’ll kill him.”
Susan’s gaze flickers away, her eyes going distant. “He didn’t rape me,” she whispers. “He wanted to. But he wanted to send me a message more. He wanted to tell me that I couldn’t do a damn thing about him, that Narnia couldn’t – that Narnia couldn’t stand up to Calormen – that he could do anything he wanted –” Her voice breaks off on a sob and Peter wraps his arms around her, holding her as tightly as he can.
“I’ll kill him,” he promises.
She reaches for his face and turns it toward her, kisses him. “Aslan let him live. Wait until the year is up. Killing a prince of Calormen sends a much better message than killing an ass.”
Another six months. He can wait that long. There’s nothing he needs to say to that, because Susan already knows that he’ll do it, and if it was about anyone else, Susan would be the one telling him to be sensible, to be calm and think things through and not start an international incident. The fact that she’s not doing so tells him exactly what happened to her, and for that he’ll walk into Tashbaan with his sword in his hand and slaughter everyone in his path to get to Rabadash. He’ll conquer the damn country if he has to.
Susan says, “I want you. Please –” She reaches around to guide his hands to the line of buttons on the back of her dress.
Peter undoes them slowly, kissing her between each button. Susan pushes her dress down, squirming around slightly until she’s lying on top of the soft fabric. Peter kisses her neck, nipping at the spot just beneath her jaw that always makes her gasp.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, “what you want.”
Susan puts one hand on the back of his head, her touch light and sure. “I want your hands,” she says, “and your mouth, and you.”
“Where?” He presses a kiss against the bend between neck and shoulder, sucking a mark there that will show up tomorrow. He wants Narnia to see that the Prince of Calormen hasn’t broken their queen. There’s no need for him to finish the question, either; he and Susan both know it means, what did he do to you?
She takes a shaky breath. “I love you,” she says. “It doesn’t matter, Peter, it doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t.” She pushes herself up on her elbows, takes a slow, lazy kiss from his mouth. “I love you,” she says again. “I love you so much.”
Peter kisses his way down her neck to the space between her breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth, hears Susan gasp and feels her grip at his hair. “Peter,” she says roughly. “Peter.” She reaches down to push at his trousers; Peter works a hand between them to help her without taking his mouth from her breast.
He rolls over onto his back and pulls Susan on top of him, wrapping an arm around her waist as he kisses her. She cups his face between her hands, pulling back to look at him with something unreadable in her eyes.
“Su?” Peter says quietly.
She leans down and kisses him, long and slow and deep, and flips them again. He feels her fingers press against his spine as he settles between her thighs and kisses her again. Gods, it’s been so long since he’s touched her. He can’t even remember why they were fighting any more.
Her breath hitches as he slides into her, a soft, familiar gasp. She hooks her knees against his hipbones and reaches one hand up to cup the back of his head in one hand. Peter kisses the corner of her mouth, breathing hard as he starts to move.
They’re slow, familiar, absolutely certain of each other; there’s no need for doubt or desperation now. Susan’s breath is drawn ragged from her throat when she comes, warm against Peter’s mouth; he kisses her, a little messy now, closer to careless. She hitches her hips up to give him a deeper angle; Peter rocks into her twice more and comes, putting his face down into her shoulder to stifle his gasps.
Afterwards, Susan curls against him, taking lazy kisses from his mouth like there’s nothing else so fascinating in the world. “I love you,” she says again. “I love Narnia. I’m not doing that again, Peter, not even for politics, not even for a lie. I’m not.”
“You can do whatever you want,” he tells her. “Narnia’s not going anywhere. I won’t let anything happen again.”
“You can’t do everything, Peter,” she says, smiling sadly at him.
“We can damn well try together, all of us,” he says, a little sharper than he’d meant originally, and kisses her again to take out the sting.
“Oh, Peter,” Susan says, kissing him back. “I’m glad you’ve come home safely.”
He wraps an arm around her waist. The grass is cool against their skin; he stretches his legs out and digs his toes into the earth, feeling Narnia spread out vast and welcoming beneath him. She’s getting ready for autumn, getting ready to prepare for winter; the harvest is coming soon.
“Look,” Peter says, raising one hand to point at the stars. “The Firebringer’s been chased away by the Reaper. Summer’s over.”