The pre-dawn wind was bitterly cold as we trundled the crates of fish to the co-op market by the docks. The small fry had already been distributed to the crew, and once the salable fish were delivered, Kazu went home to cook our breakfast.

gyokou 2

I hadn’t known Kazu before the disaster. After, we met while cleaning up the debris. We’d decided to pool our resources and buy one new boat with the insurance payment for our two destroyed old boats. Our crew were all seasoned local veterans and we were slowly rebuilding the livelihood we had lost. The lives we had lost — our parents, wives, children — we tried not to think about too much.

One night when we were somewhat drunk, he’d placed a hand on my thigh at the noodle shop. I didn’t move away. It had felt good to be touched again. When he hinted that he wanted more, I invited him back to my place, the temporary housing five doors down from his. It was a totally new experience for me but somewhere between the lust and pleasure, I realized it was exactly what I needed.

gyokou 1

Finished with the sales, I hurried home in the early morning light. The aroma of grilled fish and hot soup and rice greeted me. As we ate, I turned on the TV. The talk show panelists were discussing the progress of restoration in our area. I changed the channel.

Tired but with full bellies, I washed the dishes while he relaxed for a bit. Then he drew the curtains to block the sunlight and spread out our futon. I joined him a minute later, backing against his warmth.

“You wanna?” I asked.

“Nah. Not today.”

He held me tightly, though, and that was enough. I had everything I needed.

If Sickbay Walls Could Talk

Star Trek — Smutty Spones drabble! After Amok Time so technically TOS but could also work for AOS if you want it to.


Spock strode into Sickbay with purpose and, seeing that there were no patients at the moment, nodded brusquely to Chapel.

“Nurse Chapel, if you will excuse us,” was all he said.

Chapel walked out with a small huff. This had been happening with annoying regularity ever since Spock had commandeered the Enterprise and mysteriously insisted on going to his home planet. She had a fair idea what was happening between him and Dr. McCoy but she didn’t really want to think about it.

“Spock, give me just a minute,” McCoy said as he tried to finish the report he was writing. Before he could react, he was hauled out of his chair by the Vulcan’s stronger-than-Human arms and propelled toward the nearest wall. “Now wait, dammit! You can’t just barge in here and—” the doctor sputtered, but his words died in his mouth when he felt his trousers shoved roughly down his hips. A moment later a cool, slim finger was penetrating him, finding his prostate with unerring accuracy. All McCoy could do was gasp at the sensation and brace himself against the wall.

Even in his haste, however, Spock was not unkind. His finger was soon augmented with lubricant, and as McCoy’s body relaxed under his touch, another slick finger was added. By the time a third had joined the others, McCoy was mewling wantonly, his ass sticking out as though begging for more. Spock did not disappoint. He replaced his fingers with his cock, green and engorged to the last nub, and began fucking McCoy with abandon.

The nubs of the Vulcan penis were designed to stimulate ovulation in the female, but when inserted into a Human male’s anus, they stroked the prostate and produced intense pleasure. McCoy was quickly reduced to a drooling, wailing mess, pushing back against Spock in time to his thrusts for deeper penetration. Spock ripped the doctor’s shirt in his eagerness to bite his shoulder — an instinctive mating behavior — and clamped down until he drew blood. He gripped McCoy’s hips tightly enough to leave bruises as he pounded into him.

McCoy was pushed over the brink by the relentless stimulation, crying out insensibly as he striped the Sickbay wall with his cum. Spock growled when he felt his mate clench around his sex, then released his own cum deep inside the Human. They stood there for several minutes, panting and unable to move, while they both came down from their hormonal high. Spock recovered first.

“Forgive me, Leonard,” he whispered, his voice husky and low in McCoy’s ear. “I could not wait until your shift ended.”

“So… you find me irresistible, do you?” McCoy teased, chuckling.

“Indeed I do,” Spock admitted freely.

“Well, it’s a good thing I find you pretty damn irresistible, too.”

Spock pulled out at last, his cock tethered for a moment to McCoy’s gaping hole by a string of viscous green fluid.

“I will clean and sanitize this area while you finish your work,” he said. “And I will also retrieve a new shirt for you. My apologies. May I use the dermal regenerator on your wound?”

“Don’t bother, Spock,” McCoy replied with a wry smile. “I’ll catch it later after you put another one on the other side.”

Spock swallowed hard, desire already beginning to burn within him again.

Persistence of Interest

Harold tapped his keyboard, editing a particularly tricky bit of code. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t notice the tall shadow passing over him not once, not twice, but three times before coming to a stop. Startled, he looked up at the man who had sat down next to him on the park bench.

“You come here often,” the stranger stated. “I see you every day around this time. Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“I’m coding,” Harold replied, trying not to sound inordinately peeved – just enough to inform the stranger that he was interrupting and unwelcome. “Unless you’re a coder yourself, it wouldn’t make any sense.”

The man pursed his lips and made a faint nod as though conceding Harold’s point. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“I don’t drink coffee.” Harold turned back to his laptop.

“Pop, then?”

A part of Harold’s mind flagged the word as non-native to New York, where carbonated beverages were usually referred to as sodas.

“No, thank you. If you don’t mind, I’m a bit… preoccupied at the moment.”


Without another word, the man left. Harold surreptitiously glanced up at his retreating figure, relieved to be left alone. Human interactions had never been his forte and he had no idea what he had done to invite such unwanted attention.

Fifteen minutes later, he had finished the coding. He watched in satisfaction as the test simulation ran smoothly, even allowing a self-indulgent smile to curl his lips.

“I hope you like vanilla,” a voice came from above him. Harold gaped at the stranger who had reappeared on the sidewalk, holding two ice cream cones. “But if you don’t, you can have the chocolate.”

“Ah… Well, actually… I do prefer vanilla.”

“I thought you might.” The persistent man’s smile was as warm as it was shy. He handed Harold the vanilla cone before settling next to him on the bench again. “I don’t mean to bother you… but everybody likes ice cream, right?”

“I’ve never met someone who doesn’t,” Harold replied while taking in the man’s appearance: dark, nondescript suit; well-worn shoes; a self-effacing air that suggested the Secret Service or some other government agency that valued the ability to disappear in a crowd. Harold tensed, wondering if his past had finally caught up to him.

The stranger licked his chocolate ice cream from the side to the tip, obviously enjoying it. Harold realized his own was melting and hurried to lick around the rim of the cone before it dripped on his laptop.

“I really don’t mean to intrude, but I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner sometime,” the man asked after a moment.

“You don’t know me,” Harold countered, though not unkindly. He’d noticed the flush creeping up the other man’s neck and blossoming in his cheeks. He was also quite sure that if a law enforcement officer had discovered his true identity, he would not be asking him out on a date.

“I’d like to try,” the man said, then took a bite out of his cone.


The man shrugged. “I don’t know. Call it a hunch… an intuition. I like your face.”

Harold couldn’t suppress his snort. “You have a strange taste in faces, Mister…?”

“Reese. But please call me John.” The man’s eyes sparkled in delight as he turned to look at Harold.

“Harold.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Harold Wren.”

“Hi, Harold.” John’s smile grew in brilliance. “So… can I interest you in dinner?”

“Well….” Harold considered the matter. Or at least, he told himself he was – it was hard to think with those deep eyes looking at him so expectantly. In the end he nodded. “Why not? Seeing as how we’ve already had dessert.”



A/N: In this AU, John is on leave from his CIA job and looking for a little romance. Of course Kara would find out about Harold and try to tell John not to get attached, but after Ordos John would come back to Harold. Harold would have figured out about the DV victims sooner and prevented Jessica from getting killed, so John would have moved on from her naturally.


“Get down, Detective!” Elias warned before getting into the car prepared for him. His own man had already been shot and killed by Dominic, who in turn had been shot by an unknown and unseen assailant. Elias knew he was next, so the bullet that pierced his shoulder did not surprise him. What did surprise him was the lack of pain. He could feel where he had been hit, but a strange numbness – a sense of detachment – blunted the edges of his consciousness. This must be the end, he thought while slipping deeper into the haze.

“Hey, Boss,” came a familiar voice. “Don’t worry – it’s gonna be okay.”

“Anthony!” Elias cried with relief and unfeigned joy. It had been too long since he had last seen his friend’s face, which was now smiling down at him with that familiar lopsided smirk. Elias choked back his emotions and swallowed before managing to say, “You came back for me.”

“No, Boss,” Anthony replied, his voice gentle. “I never left.”

Elias nodded, feeling whole again for the first time in what seemed like ages. “It’s just the two of us now, isn’t it?” he asked. It was also a reminder.

“Yeah… just the two of us… Carl.”

The laugh that slipped out of Elias shook loose his tears.

“It’s gonna be all right, Carl,” Anthony repeated, then bent to press his lips to Elias’ forehead.

“I know,” he answered and smiled.

Personal Update

Some of you have asked where I’ve been since I haven’t updated much in the past couple of years. I know many of my longer work-in-progress fans have despaired of my ever finishing those stories, but I really do intend to write them, and now – at last! – I’m beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Many of you know that I have a rare form of rheumatoid arthritis (RA) that responds only to biologic treatments (like Enbrel, Humira, and Orencia), which are heinously expensive even when you have decent insurance. I haven’t had good insurance since I quit my full-time translating job and went freelance – which was still the best decision I ever made and has helped lower my blood pressure and other health risks significantly – so my rheumatologist suggested that I volunteer for a new protocol being tested by a pharmaceutical company. Since I’d already participated in a similar study for a related drug (*cough* PhilMickelson *cough*), I was glad to do so. The best part: free meds! Since you’re sacrificing your body for medical science, they provide all the treatments and testing for free. Yay! 🙂

Unfortunately, for the past couple of years I have had a severe, prolonged case of writer’s block. Even when I knew exactly what was going to happen in the story, I couldn’t string the words together to construct it. I didn’t even enjoy reading anymore. I chalked the former up to the stress of not having regular work (that’s a whole ’nuther post) and the latter to the fact that I’d started proofreading, which made grammatical errors stand out even more and distracted me from the stories. Occasionally I’d manage to write a chapter or so, but even such short goals became grueling, uphill tasks.

Then a couple of months ago, my doctor’s office called to tell me that the test was being canceled. It was supposed to run for 5 years and it had only been 3 years and a few months. The reason? Too many patients were reporting the side effects of depression and thoughts of suicide. The pharmaceutical company decided that it was too risky to continue developing for the market – even though a lot of drugs have depression and suicidal thoughts listed as side effects, this one apparently was severe enough to make it a liability.

When they told me, it was like the proverbial light bulb going off in my head. No wonder I couldn’t write or manage to do anything creative! I’d been suffering a mild case of medically-induced depression. I’ve been off of the protocol drug for a few weeks now, and already I’m feeling a difference. The words flow more readily, even though I need to re-word and edit the heck out of them (something I didn’t have to do as much before), and I’m gradually trying to get back into the swing of writing again. 🙂

One thing I’m really thankful for, though, is that this new protocol cleared up my psoriasis. The other biologic treatment I’d taken before had kept the affected areas from spreading but had not been able to decrease the surface area. The protocol drug – which didn’t even get named before they canceled the research – made my skin clear up in just 3 days! I’d had patches of red welts on my face and neck and back for 15 years, and for the first time since I’d presented with psoriasis, I was able to see my own face in the mirror – not the disease! I’m especially glad that I was part of the test since, if no other pharmaceutical company decides to pursue developing this particular drug, it will never be available on the market. I am so blessed!!! 🙂

So now I’m just trying to get my current insurance company to let me go back to the previous biologic drug. They rejected it at first, of course, since it’s a lot more expensive than conventional pills (cheapskates!), but my rheumatologist has already filed an appeal, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

In other good news, I was finally able to pay off the last of my medical debt this week! This was for another thing entirely – I had called my then-insurance company (*cough* BlueCrossBlueShield *cough*) to make sure they would pay for a sleep study since I was sure I had sleep apnea. My dad had it, my brothers have it, and my mom could hear me stop snoring multiple times at night. The person who answered my call said yes, of course they would cover it as long as I could prove that I had apnea. Confident of the outcome, I went to get the sleep study done which – surprise, surprise! – proved that I did indeed have sleep apnea. The hospital billed my insurance… who promptly refused to pay because I hadn’t gotten “prior authorization.” 😦 It seems I ought to have had their representative provide a written statement, signed in the blood of their firstborn and calling a curse upon all their progeny if reneged, detailing which specific procedures they would pay for. Grrrrr…..

Long story short, I was stuck with over 8 thousand dollars to pay for out of pocket. Which, after working my considerable ass off (not that you can tell by looking at it) for the past 2 years, I have at long last managed to do. It is a very good feeling to finally be debt-free! Broke, yes, but that’s still an improvement. 🙂 And my mom – who, worried over my bouts of non-breathing, was the impetus for my getting the study done in the first place – bought me a CPAP machine (“Continuous Positive Airway Pressure” = basically a fan that pumps air into your nose so your airway doesn’t get blocked and prevent you from breathing) which has reduced my non-breathing bouts to less than a tenth of the previous frequency. As a result, my blood pressure has come down to a normal range, allowing me to stop taking the drugs for it (un-heard-of for most people – unless they have apnea and get a CPAP). I feel better rested, too, so all in all I would have to say it was worth it, despite the hassle and stress of the insurance company being a total jerk.

Anyhow, thanks for reading my long rant! I’d just like to advise you to always, always, ALWAYS get “prior authorization” before having any major or expensive medical procedure done. Oh, and if you think you have sleep apnea, do get it checked out – you’ll feel so much better once you start using a CPAP! And also, if you have the opportunity to participate in a medical research study, just do it! Seriously, it’s worth the time and effort. You might get in on a really good deal like I did, and even if you don’t, you’re contributing to our species’ medical knowledge.

Okay, rant over! Please stay tuned for more story updates! 😀

MFB55: Bliss

The two kings continued to couple late into the night, resting only enough to regain their breath before joining their bodies again to slake what seemed an insatiable thirst for each other. Like fledgling birds who had taken to the air for the first time, they reveled in their new-found joys, exploring the depths and heights of pleasure and delighting to find how easily, naturally, and freely they could soar. When at last they landed, it was with the gentleness of falling snow, their heated skin fitting together as though they had never been born as two separate creatures. It was bliss, purer and more powerful than they had known was possible.

Of course between their sweat-slicked bodies and combined issue, the sheets on Peter’s great bed were stained and soaked beyond any attempt at concealment, but they had no thoughts to spare for it. Both of the brothers were consumed by their passion, giving it free rein at long last. Although Peter had declared his staunch preference for joining with Edmund while facing him, after a few bouts with his legs spread wide, Edmund protested that the soreness growing in his hips was detracting from his enjoyment of their union, so Peter agreed to mount him from behind as he braced on all fours. They discovered to their mutual surprise that they could still contort to face each other, even kiss over Edmund’s shoulder, with the added delight of Peter fondling his lover’s manhood to know firsthand how he was responding to his attentions. He waited until he felt Edmund tremble and shoot out his release, then allowed himself to follow suit. With deep groans of satisfaction they sank to the mattress, still united, to lie panting in sated conviviality.

Peter kissed Edmund’s shoulder while clutching him to his chest, marveling at how perfectly they fit together and how wondrously smooth and warm the younger boy’s skin was against his lips. Edmund sighed and leaned back against his love, turning to claim those lips with his own. Minutes slipped by unnoticed as they savoured the sweetness of mutual adoration.

“Oh, Ed,” Peter murmured, unable to form his feelings into words.

“Mmm… Peter,” Edmund whispered in return, knowing exactly what he meant. He twisted round to nuzzle his neck and lick at the freckles that he knew were there, even in the darkness. Peter laughed at the ticklish sensation, then retaliated by licking his brother’s cheek, wondering if it tasted so delectable because of his beauty or some other innate quality. They both were seized by a fit of giggles, subsiding into a comfortable silence in which Peter stroked Edmund’s stomach and was rewarded by happy whimpers that swirled around his own insides like a swarm of bees – much like how Edmund had described his love-sick nervousness, only in a pleasant way, as though the imagined insects were contentedly and busily working at making honey. Peter kissed Edmund’s forehead, thinking he would never have his fill of kissing his precious, most handsome lover.

“Ed… I’m so glad… you let me do this.”

“As am I!” Edmund declared. “It’s no less wonderful for me, I’m sure.”

“I can’t imagine ever doing this with someone else… let alone a girl,” Peter confessed.

“You needn’t, you know.” Edmund took Peter’s hands in his own, playing with his fingers while he looked deep into his eyes. “I’ll always be willing to do this with you… and I’d much rather you didn’t get married… even if she’s the nicest girl in all of Narnia.”

Peter slipped one hand out of Edmund’s grasp to card through his damp, curly hair. The High King was overawed to realise that his dearest wish had been granted – that Edmund loved him with as much strength of feeling as Peter loved him – and was speechless for a moment. When he finally did speak, it was with conviction and resolve.

“Well, then… that’s settled.” He moved closer to press a chaste kiss on his brother’s lips. “I shall never get married, Ed… for I could never love anyone else as much as I love you.”

Stunned, Edmund stared back at Peter, reading the surety there in his eyes.

“Oh, Peter!” he cried, disconnecting their bodies only to throw his arms about his lover. “You can’t possibly know… how happy you’ve made me!”

“I think I have a fair idea,” Peter replied with a smile curling his lips. They were soon smothered in another kiss, much deeper and more passionate than the previous ones, as the two young kings discovered just how much they could tell each other without the use of words. By the time they settled into a restful slumber, Edmund’s tears of happiness had been nuzzled dry by his now confirmed and unshakeable lover.

‹‹‹‹‹ ж ›››››

The new dawn cast its first rays of golden light on the rumpled covers that Peter had managed to pull over Edmund and himself. They were a tangle of limbs, sticky and smelling of sweat and seed, but neither had slept so soundly before. The shrill notes of the dawn chorus, comprised mostly of male Wrens in the vicinity of Cair Paravel, woke Peter with the expectation of a glorious day. Finding Edmund nestled in his arms, his head pillowed on his chest, Peter was amazed anew to know that their coupling had not been a dream.

The evidence of their nocturnal activities was obvious, however, and removing it took priority over even the powerful physical desire to mate once more. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Peter began to gingerly extract himself from his brother’s embrace, but Edmund woke and rubbed his eyes.

“Hey-ho! Is it morning already?” he yawned.

“I’m afraid so. And we must get cleaned up before everyone else is up. We’re a frightful mess,” Peter told him. Edmund’s grin was untroubled.

“I doubt we can wash the sheets on our own, but Mrs. Dumplesugar will understand. She knows all about ‘Man Cubs,’ after all.”

Peter sighed but could not help but agree – at least with the first statement. The sheets on his bed were far too large for them to hope to wash and dry on their own, even in the bathtub.

“Well, let’s at least get ourselves washed and… presentable,” he advised, hunting for his nightshirt which had been discarded on the floor sometime during their passionate lovemaking.

Edmund grimaced at the state of his own nightshirt but put it on for lack of other options, then demanded a quick kiss of Peter before padding back to his bedroom for a clean set of clothes. He joined his brother in the bathroom to use the cooled bathwater from the previous evening to wash, both of them shivering but glad to at least smell less odious. The chill of the water quashed any chance of their joining their bodies again soon, but Edmund persuaded Peter to join him in his smaller, still-clean bed for a few minutes to warm up. They snuggled under the light summer blanket, listening to birdsongs and simply enjoying their newfound closeness, until they heard the light clopping of Mr. Tumnus’ hoofs in the hall. While the Faun first went to rouse Peridan, the brothers exchanged a last, lingering kiss, then Peter returned to his own room to strip the sheets off his bed.

‹‹‹‹‹ ж ›››››

The two kings approached Mrs. Dumplesugar after breakfast – Peter blushing crimson with embarrassment and Edmund struggling to look equally abashed, due to his now immeasurable happiness – and confessed that they had both been overcome by their carnal desires while Edmund had been visiting Peter in his room. Peter could not bring himself to admit that he had chosen to mate with his own brother, not knowing what the Narnian Beast might think of such a perversion and not wishing to find out. Posed with the problem of the dirty bedding, however, the kind Raccoon only heaved a sigh and placed her paws on her hips.

“Eh! No more than I should expect of Man Cubs at your age, I suppose. At least you kept it to one bed rather than soiling them both.” She waddled over to the linen cupboard and pulled out several thick, sturdy towels. “But if you wish to save me the hassle of washing those great sheets so often, you can set these out when you start to feel the yearning. They’re much easier to manage.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Dumplesugar,” Peter said with sincere gratitude. “We shall try to be more careful.”

“It wouldn’t be amiss to try to find yourselves some mates, either,” she pointed out. “I don’t know why you didn’t bring home one or two of the Daughters of Eve you met at Anvard.”

“Oh, golly, Mrs. Dumplesugar!” Edmund protested. “We’re much too young to be married yet!”

“Nonsense, my dear – if you’ve got the yearning, of course you’re ready to be married! What else is it for but to have cubs of your own?”

“I… I don’t think our kind is used to marrying quite so soon,” Peter explained. “We’re not yet grown up, you see. I’m only seventeen, and back home most chaps don’t marry until they’re at least two-and-twenty, after they’ve finished their schooling and all.”

“What? So you’ve near five more years of yearning without a mate?!” she cried out, aghast. “That’s unnatural, that is! And poor King Edmund must wait even longer?

“It won’t be so bad, truly, Mrs. Dumplesugar,” Edmund reassured her. “Now that we have these” – indicating the towels – “we won’t make such a mess all the time.”

“And you must remember that we can live a very long time,” Peter added. “Three-score years and ten, which is more than most Beasts, even in Narnia. So we must choose our mates with care.”

The Raccoon still looked astounded, her dark eyes opened wide in shock, but she threw up her paws in resignation.

“Well, then, you must do what’s wise and sensible, but if you’ll heed my advice – and mind you, I don’t say this for wanting less laundry, my dears – you ought not pass up any opportunities for meeting suitable Daughters of Eve. I say the sooner you find a good mate, the better, and the happier and healthier you’ll be.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, Mrs. Dumplesugar,” Edmund replied with a genuine smile. “I’m sure you’re right about it.”

“Yes, indeed,” Peter agreed, trying not to blush when his brother and lover turned that beautiful smile towards him. “I’m sure finding the right person to love is… the most wonderful thing in life.”

‹‹‹‹‹ ж ›››››

That morning Sageion chose to instruct his young charges on the intricacies of the Narnian treaties with Calormen, and although Peridan found it interesting since he had lived in Archenland – which had its own treaties with the southern country and was more frequently visited by trading ships and caravans from there – Peter and Edmund could scarcely stifle their yawns as the Centaur droned on about the fair exchange of fruits for lumber and the current prices, in Calormene crescents, of various precious stones mined by the Moles and Dwarfs in Narnia. Peter managed to quell most of his yawns, but Edmund was forced to bury his nose in a book on Narnian history every so often as though he were looking up some reference in it. Both boys were glad and relieved when they finally broke for lunch.

Since the weather was mild and they had no appointments in the afternoon, the girls suggested a picnic in the meadow nearest the castle. The impromptu outing was quickly arranged, with each member carrying a share of the provisions. An added benefit to eating out of doors was that the Horses could come by and chat with them while munching on sweet grasses. The Centaurs were invited also but they politely declined; the two young kings’ difficulty in attending that morning had not gone unnoticed, and Sageion shrewdly judged it best to let them rest their minds and refresh their spirits for the remainder of the day.

After everyone had eaten his or her fill, it was very tempting to stretch out on the blankets and close one’s eyes, listening to the busy drone of the bees. Edmund fell asleep on the instant, leaving Peter to stare at his lissome, prone form. The very curve of his back sent thrills of desire through the High King, who suddenly realised that lying face-down was a good way to hide some embarrassing physical reactions. He followed suit and very soon started up a low, rumbling snore. The girls giggled and whispered so as to not wake their brothers, while Peridan asked Aristides and Phillip about the different wildflowers that were in bloom around them.

The music came to them so quietly at first, wafted on the breeze, that even keen-eared Mr. Tumnus did not notice it until it grew decidedly closer and louder.

“Pipes!” he breathed in delight when he caught a strain. “My cousins, the Satyrs, are out dancing!”

“And coming this way, it would seem,” Aristides remarked, flicking his ears forward the better to hear.

The two queens suggested that they go out to meet the dancers to prevent them from coming closer and waking their brothers, so the party left the sleeping kings in the care of Elsa the Panther, who preferred basking in the sun to dancing, and ventured into the woods in search of the musicians. They did not need to search long, for the Satyrs – about a dozen of them, though it was hard to count them as they whirled around in circles and figure eights – had chosen a grassy meadow near the edge of the Great Wood for their revelry. Mr. Tumnus flung himself into the dance at once, and before they quite knew how, the girls and Peridan were caught up in it as well. Even the Horses stamped their hoofs in time to the merry music, while Mrs. Hoppinger jumped around the outer circle and Mrs. Dumplesugar clapped her paws.

“What, friends, is the occasion?” Susan asked breathlessly during a slight lull.

“What occasion do we need to dance and make merry?” laughed one of the Satyrs. “It is summer, and a good harvest is sure to follow, and the wind is calling us to sing!”

“Although it is specially nice to have a full moon tonight,” added another.

Soon the troupe was joined by a handful of Dryads and the Naiad of a nearby spring, making the dance even more intricate. Peridan found himself paired with a young Satyr – judging from his beardless face and small, stubby horns – and was mesmerised by his nimble partner’s graceful movements and piercing, intense gaze. The Satyr, whose bare chest was thick and well-muscled, showed no signs of tiring even when Peridan grew winded, and his grip was strong as he guided the boy through complicated steps. When Peridan was forced to pull out of the circle to catch his breath, the Satyr followed.

“You are a Son of Adam, are you not?” the Satyr asked.

“Yes… I believe that is what you would call me,” Peridan replied, feeling a little shy. He had met many other Satyrs, even took swordfighting lessons from Apheridys, the Captain of the Royal Guard, but there was something slightly unnerving in the intent way this one was studying him.

“And yet you are not one of our kings, for I have met both of them.”

“I am Per – Sir Peridan, a Knight of Narnia and Squire to King Edmund.”

“Ah! I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Peridan. And I am Scipio, a humble pipe-maker of Fairdell,” he said with a courteous bow. “Did you also come from the world of Spare Oom with the Royal Children?”

“Oh! No, I came from Archenland,” Peridan explained.

Scipio seemed genuinely interested in the southern country, having never traveled that far himself, so Peridan described what life was like in Anvard and how he had come to Narnia. Then Scipio told him how he lived not far from the castle along the banks of the River Rush, harvesting, drying, and carving reeds to form pipes of all sorts for himself and his neighbors. They sat down with their backs to a large oak tree while Per recounted the battle with the Harpy in the Western Woods and Scipio told of the hardships his people had suffered under the reign of the White Witch. All the while the dancing and music continued, making Peridan forget the passage of time. When Scipio placed his hand on Peridan’s where it lay on the ground, the boy was startled, and yet when he looked into his new friend’s shining eyes, he felt as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I believe, if I may be so bold,” Scipio began softly, “that as young as you are, you are no stranger to pleasure…”

Peridan flushed, his face turning red-hot, but managed to answer, “I am… not so young as I may seem. And… yes, I am familiar with the ways of Men.”

“Ah! But are you familiar with the ways of Satyrs?” Scipio asked with a teasing smile.

“Not at all,” Peridan replied, feeling a familiar flutter in his stomach that grew down into his nether regions. He thought the Satyr, for all his wildness, was very handsome, and the strength in the hand that held his own sent surges of heat throughout his body.

“Would you like me to show you… a more… intimate dance?” Scipio whispered.

“Oh! Yes,” Peridan said without hesitation, surprising himself with his audacity. There was no doubt in his mind as to what the Satyr was suggesting; the very thought of it made his male member grow in anticipation.

Scipio led him quietly out of the glade and into the woods. The two queens did not notice their departure since they were discussing with Mrs. Dumplesugar and Mrs. Hoppinger the feasibility of having dinner served in the glade, and the Horses had wandered back to see whether the two kings were awake from their slumber. Mr. Tumnus, of course, was still engrossed in the dance.

Coming to a dense thicket of underbrush, the Satyr found a way inside and pulled Peridan after him. In the private space within the vegetation, the boy learned firsthand that a Satyr’s manhood is always erect – always ready for use – though well hidden in his goaty fur. It was a good bit smaller than most Men’s, which made it easier to bury in the thick pelt and also made preparing Peridan’s receptacle for it a quick affair. Scipio had a jar with salve for this very purpose; one daub smeared around the entrance of his passage was all that was needed before the entire length of the Satyr’s sword slipped in, easily and comfortably, with his rough fur scratching the bared skin of Peridan’s bottom.

“Oh!” he gasped as the hot, pulsing member began stroking within his body. Peridan was on all fours, incapable of pleasuring his own shaft, so his lover now gladly took on that task while he grunted and rutted against the boy’s soft arse. When Peridan cried out, having had his pleasure spot stimulated by the rod within, Scipio aimed his thrusts to continue hitting the unseen bullseye. Before long Peridan was babbling a string of nonsense as Scipio drove him to the heights of ecstasy from both within and without, and after pressing himself hard into the Satyr’s sturdy hand a few times, the young knight shot his seed out in long, satisfying stripes on the ground.

His clenching body was a joy to the Satyr as well – Scipio released his own seed deep inside of the boy, then continued thrusting while the fluid dripped out of his lax opening like so much clotted cream. Realising, however, that his Human lover was spent, Scipio pulled out of him long enough to turn him gently over and lay him on his back. Wondering at the boy’s now limp and useless member, the Satyr lifted Peridan’s legs upon his arms before penetrating his welcoming orifice again.

“I would dance this dance all night,” Scipio declared fervently.

Peridan could only moan in delight as his lover stroked that perfect spot inside of him, over and over.

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Ending Headcanon

ending headcanon lodge

Reese awoke in a large, comfortable bed with a view of a vast prairie. The rolling hills and wide-open sky reminded him of Montana. Rising to his elbows, he saw that the bed had been moved into what seemed the living room of a log cabin, no doubt to enable him unrestricted access to the spectacular panorama through the floor-to-ceiling window.

Finch was in a reclining chair beside the bed and had just set down the book he had been reading.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, standing up stiffly and coming over.

“Fine. Harold… where are we?”

“Where do you think?” the older man asked with a teasing smile.

“Montana? Somewhere out West?”

“Close. It’s a little north of there,” Finch said before turning to the bedside table. Reese noticed the old-fashioned syphon coffee maker right away — it looked to have just finished brewing. The aroma tickled his nostrils as Finch poured it into a mug and offered it to him.

Reese sighed appreciatively after a sip. “I didn’t know you could brew coffee.”

“While I prefer tea myself, I have been known to make a mean brew on occasion,” Finch replied with a demure quirk of his lips. “Do you feel up to eating?”

When Reese answered in the affirmative, Finch busied himself in the kitchen, insisting that Reese stay in bed.

“You need to rest. You took quite a beating in your… last assignment,” Finch told him over the sizzle of steaks on a cast-iron skillet.

Reese searched his mind and caught vague snatches of a gunfight — the usual hail of bullets — but could not remember anything clearly.

“Did they give me sedatives?” he asked.

“And then some,” Finch confirmed. He must have had the potatoes roasting in the oven already since he was now plating the food and bringing it out. The garden salad had his signature sesame dressing on it and the green beans must have been steamed before being seared in the same skillet as the meat to make them tender and flavorful. Everything tasted delicious and Reese was happy to tell Finch so. As they finished their sumptuous dinner and looked out the window, enjoying how the sunset changed the sky to orange and then brilliant red, Reese felt more well-rested than he had in a long time.

“So… what’s next?” he asked, although he was not at all anxious to get back to the city.

“You rest and relax and recover,” Finch answered. “God knows I need the break, too. We’ll be safe here… for as long as we need to stay.”

Reese nodded in acknowledgement. He would be happy to stay here for a while. With Harold. Always with Harold.

“Where’s Bear?”

“He’s with Detective Fusco for now, but I also left him Mr. Tao’s contact information in case he needs to leave town.”

Satisfied, Reese settled back into his pillows. The sky was deepening from twilight to full, velvety night, twinkling with a million stars in the clear, unpolluted air. Finch gathered up their dishes and took them into the kitchen to wash, happily humming a tune Reese thought he recognized.

Reese was beginning to doze off when a loud clanging jolted him awake. The noise of a pan dropped on the wooden floor echoed through the high-ceilinged cabin.

“Sorry! I’m all right! Everything’s all right,” Finch called, scrambling to get the pan under control.

The sound — Finch’s voice — triggered something in the back of Reese’s mind. Something very similar had happened in the not-too-distant past… something where a loud noise had echoed…..



Reese was exchanging gunfire with his pursuers, dodging behind the concrete wall. He wanted desperately to get past them, knowing that a SWAT team had been sent to penetrate their subway hideout, where Finch was barricaded in and trying to manage damage control while also subverting their enemies’ online systems. Over their com, Reese heard banging noises.

“Finch! Are you all right?” he demanded.

“I’m all right, I’m all right — the barrier is holding,” Finch answered.

A moment later the sound of an explosion came through. Gunfire erupted on the other side of their connection, and there was a gasp.

“Harold? Are you all right? Are you hit?”

Finch drew in a ragged breath before answering, “I’m sorry, John… I’m afraid… this is goodbye…”

Reese was still under heavy fire but he ceased returning fire altogether. “Stay with me, Finch! Harold?! Stay with me!”

“John… I just want you to know…”

Abruptly their com was disconnected. Reese roared, a primal sound ripped from his bowels. In a haze of anger, he jumped out and started shooting at everything and everyone in sight…..



The memory was so vivid that it felt like it had happened only moments before. Reese threw off the covers as he jumped to his feet, pulling off his shirt to search for the bullet wounds that should be there.

Nothing. Not a scratch.

“Harold…?” he asked, turning to him.

“I’m sorry, John… I wanted to let you know… gently…”

Reese stared at him, not yet comprehending.

“We didn’t make it. Neither of us…”

Reese was stunned into silence.

“This, apparently, is Heaven,” Finch explained. “And what we did… what we tried to accomplish… seems to have counted for something, at least. I was given a choice — to go deeper, or to stay here and wait for you. I chose to wait.” His smile was a little sad, for the first time in this place. “You weren’t far behind.”

Reese looked around him and the cabin started to melt away, leaving them standing on the tundra. A cool breeze was blowing but, far from being uncomfortable, it was invigorating. Reese realized that his body — every single muscle — felt stronger and younger than it had ever been.

“Are you ready to go, John?” Finch asked, gesturing to the north. “There are people waiting to meet you… to meet both of us. In fact Ms. Arndt has sent multiple messages asking me to hurry you along.”

Reese gazed into Finch’s serene face. The lines of exhaustion, which had been growing more noticeable each year, had faded away. He looked to be at peace — truly at peace, with himself and the Universe — for the first time in his life.

“Harold… what we did… it mattered?” Reese asked. “It made a difference?”

“Yes, John. Despite our many failures… it mattered. We made a difference.”

The smile Finch gave him then was nothing short of beatific.

Reese nodded. “Okay, then. I’m ready.”

Harold smiled brilliantly and offered his hand. John took it, marveling at how solid it felt. As they began walking toward a point on the distant horizon where a star pulsed with golden light, he noticed that Harold was no longer limping. He squeezed his hand and felt laughter bubbling up from the core of his being.

“If this is Heaven… and if you’re with me… it was all worth it,” John told him.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Harold agreed with a chuckle, tugging on John’s hand playfully. “And I’m so glad you took that job.”

John shook his head and laughed. “It wasn’t a job, Harold — it was a purpose!

“Yes, of course! A purpose. And somewhere along the way…” — Harold bashfully looked over at John — “I think we found something else, too.”

“Yeah,” John agreed, grinning. They didn’t need to name it; they both knew perfectly well what they had found.

Suddenly they were running, skipping, leaping, and even somersaulting across the landscape, all the while never losing their grip on each other. Soon they were moving so quickly that their feet scarcely touched the ground, then they weren’t at all. They flew toward the welcoming light.



MFB54: Consummation

When Edmund informed Per of his great discovery – that Peter was just as much in love with him as Edmund was with Peter – the young Knight was sincerely overjoyed for the Kings. Edmund also confided in him that he hoped to persuade his elder brother to indulge in full carnal pleasure with him, now that he knew Peter’s resolve was weakened by his charms, and he asked Per to help him prepare for the deed straightaway rather than waste time on lengthy explanations.

“After all,” Edmund noted, “it seems the sort of thing better learnt by experience than talk.”

He also knew that Per would be discountenanced with embarrassment if made to speak of the details much, and so he approached the process as matter-of-factly as he could. It was a messier undertaking than Edmund had expected (despite the particular bodily orifice involved) and had he been more squeamish he might have been tempted to give it up altogether. However, he had his heart set on the prize, so with Per’s encouragement and reassurances that the end result would be worthwhile, he plugged on. It was fortunate for them that Per had a new and rather large bottle of sword-polishing oil; even so, a good bit of it was used up by the time the Knight declared his Sire ready to be joined with a man of the High King’s girth and length, and Edmund’s nightshirt was hopelessly soiled. Since Edmund was planning to be soon rid of it, he used its hem to wipe dry the handle of Per’s dagger (which Per had ingeniously thought to use and had been an invaluable tool for their purpose) after washing it thoroughly.

“I cannot thank you enough for your assistance… and friendship,” Edmund told Per with heartfelt sincerity as they finished cleaning up the Knight’s room. “I am forever in your debt.”

“It is a small matter, Your Majesty,” Per replied, still blushing but with genuine pleasure. “I wish you both great joy in the consummation of your long-awaited desires. May it be all you have hoped and dreamed of, and more.”

“Thanks. I’m sure it will,” Edmund said with a grin before leaving.

‹‹‹‹‹ ж ›››››

When Peter returned to his room after his bath, he lay awake on his bed in the hopes that his brother – and now admitted love – would come to see him as he so often did. He was disappointed when long minutes went by and Edmund did not appear. Part of Peter’s mind still chided him for having engaged in what felt to him to be an illicit affair with his younger brother, and yet he could not find it in his heart to give up their newfound joy. Perhaps it was just as well that Edmund did not come tonight, he tried to tell himself, for if he should come Peter knew that he would not be able to resist kissing those soft, sweet lips; caressing that lithe, supple body; and grasping that proof of Edmund’s masculinity in order to hear his plaintive cries rising in helpless pleasure. And yet Peter’s body ached to do just that, his own manhood making its wishes clear by rearing its weighty head.

Since he was unable to sleep, anyhow, and Edmund did not seem to be coming, Peter hitched up his nightshirt to expose himself and took his throbbing shaft in one hand. All he could see, painted by his imagination on the dark canvas of his ceiling, was Edmund’s fair, delicate face as they had sought each other earlier that day. Remembering how his brother’s voice had issued in rapture, Peter stroked himself ever faster in an attempt to culminate his arousal; however, even his well-practised skill was not enough to bring him to completion. After having experienced the special pleasure of being joined in intimacy with another – especially with the one he had yearned for and loved for so long a time – his usual methods now paled by comparison.

Frustrated and yet unable to stop due to his body’s insistent demands, Peter continued stroking his kingly sword with half-hearted attention. His mind wandered back again to the first time he had helped Edmund with his male need and how small his brother’s silken shaft had felt in his hands. It had grown somewhat since then, as he could attest to from fondling it a scant few hours ago, but even so the size difference with his own served to remind Peter that Edmund was his younger by several years. Having had his responsibility as the eldest sibling drilled into him from infancy, Peter could not shake the sense that he had somehow let his parents down by succumbing to his lust for his brother. And so, conflicted, he was struggling in vain to achieve satisfaction when Edmund slipped in through the balcony door.

“Peter?” the younger boy whispered into the darkness. “I say, are you still awake?”

“Ed! I… yes,” Peter replied, blushing scarlet although Edmund could not see his present state from across the room. “I thought you had turned in by now.”

“Not likely,” Edmund chuckled, then walked over to perch on the edge of the large bed. “Did you think I wouldn’t come – tonight, of all nights?”

“I’d about given up, although I had rather hoped you would,” Peter confessed, fussing with his nightshirt to cover his manhood. To his dismay, even in the dim light of the room its dusky profile was visible under the sheer white linen. Edmund noticed it at once and laughed in lighthearted delight.

“Well then, it looks like I’ve come just in time! Honestly, Pete, what would you do without me?” he teased while crawling onto the bed and straddling his older brother’s hips. When Peter opened his mouth to protest, Edmund bent down to silence him with a kiss. They were both breathless by the time their lips parted, but Edmund wasted no time in peeling off his nightshirt and casting it to the floor. The pale starlight from the windows behind him gilded his profile in silver, inciting Peter to run his large, warm hands up and down his sides and back. Edmund moaned in appreciation.

“I have no idea what I would do without you,” Peter whispered, reveling in the smooth surface of Edmund’s skin. “Go mad with grief, I think.”

“Not to worry, Peter,” Edmund responded, leaning over again to shower his cheek with kisses. “You shall always have me… in every possible way!”

As he said so, he reached below to find Peter’s hardened sword, which he rubbed fondly for a moment as if testing its firmness. Then he rose up on his knees and placed the hot shaft between his nether cheeks, allowing it to slide along the canyon between. Peter inhaled sharply at the novel sensation while his manhood grew even harder.

“I don’t think it’s grief that you’re in danger of at the moment,” Edmund chuckled, slowly bouncing on his heels to rub his oiled cleft against his brother’s most sensitive organ. “But there’s no need to fret, for I have the solution to your problem!”

The younger king curled down into himself, the better to see what he was about, and positioned the tip of Peter’s great sword against his entrance. Per had warned him that the joining would be uncomfortable at first; however, Edmund trusted the other boy’s word implicitly and believed that the penetration would become pleasurable once his body grew accustomed to it. Taking a deep breath, he plunged his brother’s shaft into his oil-slicked passage.

“AH!” Peter cried out, startled to realise that his brother dared to go so far. The High King had dreamt about being thus conjoined with Edmund, both in his waking hours and sleeping, but in spite of the fact that they had confessed their love for each other, he had not expected Edmund to be so bold. Truth be told, he was not even sure how such a thing were possible, although he had once witnessed his schoolmates engaged in the very act. It seemed like an extremely painful proposition, and his worries were confirmed when he heard Edmund begin panting.

“Ed, don’t! Don’t go on if it hurts,” Peter begged, trying to forcibly lift him up off the offending member by gripping his hips. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“You won’t. It’s all right,” Edmund assured him, taking in deep draughts of air and still holding Peter’s manhood firmly to keep it in place. “I just have to… get used to it. You’re so big! But it will work, never fear – I just need some time to push it in… slowly…”

Edmund pressed himself lower onto Peter, causing both of them to moan. The feeling of being filled was much greater – and more exciting – than it had been with his own fingers and the dagger’s handle. Not only was Peter’s sword larger, it was hot with blood and throbbing with desire. Edmund longed to be ravished by it but, heeding his Knight’s warning, he continued to push it in only by gradual increments. He was glad to feel his own body stretching to accommodate it just like Per had promised it would.

“Oh… Edmund…” Peter murmured, taking in his brother’s beauty through half-lidded eyes. He was driven nearly mad by Edmund’s slow descent upon his rampant organ. The primal urge to thrust, thrust, thrust was hammering in his mind, which he only barely managed to keep in check with the realisation that any sudden motion on his part might hurt his dearest love. The heat and closeness of Edmund’s passage was incredible. Even in his lewdest imaginings, Peter had not expected intercourse to feel so wonderful, and his only thought now was a silent plea for Edmund to make their joining complete.

Groaning and gasping, Edmund forced himself further down the massive shaft, trying as best he could to open himself up to allow it in. The worst was over, he knew, now that the bulbous tip had slipped past the narrow entrance; he simply needed to stretch the part within himself where he had not been able to reach before, even with his long fingers and the aid of the dagger. As he neared the last few inches of Peter’s length, Edmund arched his back, turning to face the ceiling, and aligned his passage to the curvature of Peter’s sword. With a final push he forced himself down upon it all the way to its hilt.


Their cries echoed for a moment in the room. Edmund had made sure to close the balcony door properly so that no sound leaked out, and he was glad now that he had. Having Peter’s skin flush against his own was a wonder and a delight; having Peter’s entire manhood buried completely within his body was nothing short of miraculous.

“Oh, Peter… so big… so wonderful!” he breathed.

“Ed, I… I think I… I’m going to… spill my seed,” Peter confessed, desperate urgency in his voice.

“Oh, yeah! Do it! It’s all right – I shan’t get pregnant,” Edmund encouraged. “I want to feel you shoot it out… into me.”

“But… I want to thrust.” Peter’s large hands, wrapped at first around Edmund’s hips to halt his progress, now gripped them hungrily.

“It’s all right, you won’t hurt me,” Edmund reiterated, pulling up a bit and pushing back down to prove his point. “You can do whatever you want now – I’m ready for you!”

With a sob of relief and gratitude, Peter began thrusting up into the tight heat that was enveloping his manhood. He was inside his love, touching him in places and in ways that no other ever had, touching Edmund’s inmost being with his sex, connecting with him in the ultimate form of love and passion. All because Edmund wished him to do so, desiring this conjoining of their bodies and hearts just as much as Peter had. It was almost too much; it was too much; and suddenly Peter felt his seed shoot up into his brother like a powerful, unstoppable geyser.

“Oh! Oh! Ohhh…

He continued to push up into Edmund’s welcoming warmth as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through him. Dimly, he was aware of his issue slicking the passage and making the friction of his motions less noticeable, but as he was swept away upon the tide of lust, his only thought was to repeat that marvelous, most wondrous act, to experience it over and over again until he had no more strength left to move at all.

As for Edmund, perched astride his brother’s organ, he had not yet felt the heights of ecstasy which Per had described. He had, however, enjoyed the sounds their sweaty bodies made as they were repeatedly slapped together and had reveled in the sensation of Peter’s hot fluid flooding his deepest parts. That the High King had derived perfect satisfaction was obvious, and for now it was enough. Edmund lay down upon Peter’s chest and listened to his strong, rapid heartbeat, smiling when Peter embraced him tightly.

“Oh, Ed…”

“Was it good?”

“Good, yes. More than good! Amazing…”

They fell silent for a while, lying together clasped in each other’s embrace, until Peter shifted his hips. His manhood, still wedged inside of Edmund, was growing hard again.

“Um… Ed… Would it be all right…” Peter trailed off, unaccountably embarrassed.

“Of course,” Edmund answered without waiting for him to finish, thrilled to know that his lover desired him again. “How do you want me this time?”


“Per said there are many positions in which we can be joined,” Edmund explained. “I can get on all fours, or lie flat on the bed, and let you enter me from behind. Or I can lie on my back and spread my legs out to let you enter me from the front; he said it’ll be easier if I put a pillow underneath. Or, like we just did, I can ride you like a horse – either facing you or away from you.”

Peter considered all of these equally tempting methods, but there was only one way that he wanted to enter Edmund – the way he had seen his schoolmates doing it, all those years ago in England, which had given shape to his darkest fantasies.

“If… If you lie on the bed… with your bottom near the edge,” he proposed, feeling slightly shy, “I can stand on the floor and… enter you… quite comfortably, I think.”

“Oh! I suppose you can. Do you want me face up or face down?”

“Up, of course, my dearest Edmund,” Peter said, drawing him close for a wet, hungry kiss that left him breathless. “I want to see your beautiful face at all times! You needn’t ever ask me that again.”

“All right,” Edmund said, then grinned. “And you needn’t ask me ever again if it’s all right to do this. It will always be all right by me, Peter. I love you, and I love having you so deep inside of me.”

With a groan, Peter pulled out of Edmund to stand up on the floor and, with a quick movement that caught Edmund by surprise, dragged the somewhat smaller boy to the edge of the bed. Giggling, Edmund lifted his long legs to either side and grabbed a pillow.

“Wait just a sec,” he said while stuffing it under his hips. “There, isn’t that better?”

“Perfect,” Peter agreed, surveying the height and angle of his brother’s arse. The next moment the hot tip of his battering ram was breaching Edmund’s gate once more.

“Mmm,” they both moaned. Edmund’s feet flailed aimlessly until they were lifted to rest in the crooks of Peter’s arms. The larger boy leaned over the bed to better see his love’s face in the darkness.

“Ed… does this really feel good?” he asked, a hint of worry shadowing his eyes. “You’re not just pretending, are you?”

“No, of course not! You’re not hurting me at all, now that I’ve gotten used to it,” Edmund reassured him. “And Per said it would feel just heavenly when you hit a special spot inside… but I think you’re so large that I can’t tell when you’re hitting it – you’re hitting everywhere all at once.”

“Where is this… special spot?” Peter asked, intrigued.

“He said it’s somewhere near the outside… on the front, I think.”

Peter straightened up to observe where they were connected, blushing to see it even now, and pulled out gradually until his manhood popped out. It grew even more rigid as he pressed it inside again and tried deliberately to rub the front side of Edmund’s passage. A moment later, he knew he had found it when Edmund let out a sound much like a caterwaul.

“That’s it!” he gasped, his limbs suddenly growing tense and even his passage squeezing Peter’s member tighter. “Oh!”

Peter put aside his own need to thrust and plunder his lover’s body and instead rubbed gently back and forth over that special spot, marveling at how Edmund’s flagging manhood grew under his ministrations. The younger king was fondling it in both hands, keeping time with Peter’s slow rocking motion, his eyes shut tightly as he focused on the new and marvelous sensations he was experiencing. In the back of his mind he acknowledged that Per’s information had been correct: the initial discomfort was well worth bearing to reach this final bliss.

Soon Edmund’s movements grew frantic as he was driven inexorably up the heights of pleasure. Peter matched his thrusts to the quick strokes his brother was applying to his exposed manhood, goading him ever closer to the brink. When Edmund arrived at the cusp, he plunged headlong over the edge, spewing his seed over his bared stomach and chest while sensual moans escaped his lips.

Thus sated and replete, Edmund let out sighs of contentment as his body recovered from its culmination. Peter’s length was still solid within him, beginning to move again in the time-old dance of love. He could not have been happier.

Peter also had been entranced to watch his brother respond so eagerly to his actions. However, now that he had satisfied Edmund’s needs, he could not help but want to fulfill his own dream of mating with his lover with wild abandon. His thrusts grew harder, deeper, and more insistent.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asked, barely managing to stop his hips for a moment.

“No,” Edmund told him with a light chuckle. “Don’t worry so much, Peter – you won’t break me!”

And so, having received his brother’s permission and reassurance, the High King unreservedly pounded his regal sword into Edmund, all thoughts of caution, indecency, and guilt obliterated by the incomparable joy of ecstasy.

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Anonymous Reunion

The tall man sidled up to the older gentleman sitting at the bar. He sat down nonchalantly beside him. “Buy you a drink?” he asked.

The older gent’s lips quirked to the side. “Thank you. Don’t mind if you do.”

They sipped in silence for a while. Then the older gent pulled out a key card from his pocket and left it on the counter.

“Thanks for the drink,” he said, then stood up and left.

The tall man finished his drink slowly, then paid for the drinks, picked up the key card, and left.

By the time John entered the hotel lobby, Harold had already disabled the security system.


The end.

MFB53: Happiness

Panting as he lay upon Edmund, Peter nuzzled his brother’s hot skin and, once he had caught his breath, peppered it with kisses. Edmund’s smooth chin, his tender throat, his damask cheeks – all were lovingly caressed by Peter’s lips. If the High King felt any misgivings about allowing himself to so freely express his love, they were forgotten when Edmund began returning the gestures with hungry kisses of his own. When their lips met, almost by chance, they were lost in a maelstrom of desire and long-denied passion. In their eagerness they devoured one another, tongues wrangling and teeth gnashing as they tasted of each other’s sweetness.

Their hands were not idle, either, grasping for better handholds as though the very air might seek to tear them apart without proper anchorage. Edmund trembled with joy to feel Peter’s rough palms sliding over his torso, and he rose up to meet them, presenting his lithe young body unreservedly to his lover. Peter pushed up Edmund’s tunic to expose his chest, where – driven by some instinctual need – he suckled the two nipples in turn. Gasping aloud at the novel yet pleasurable sensations, Edmund pulled Peter even closer to himself with his fingers entangled in his brother’s fair hair. In a matter of minutes they were both aroused again beyond comfort or restraining, and for once Peter did not question his own actions as he positioned himself over his brother’s recumbent body to bring their two manhoods into contact once more.

“Oh… Peter!” Edmund sighed, closing his eyes to revel in the touch. The sight of his ecstatic face nearly caused Peter to spill his seed with no other encouragement, but having already tasted the delightfulness of shared pleasure, he reined in his rampant lust for a moment by drawing in a long, shuddering breath. He hoisted Edmund’s legs on his arms and placed his knees beneath Edmund’s buttocks so as to better access his exposed privates, then began thrusting in slow, deliberate strokes along Edmund’s length. Even in his haze of carnal excitement, Edmund had sense enough to gather into his hands what had coated his bare stomach from their previous ejaculations, applying it to their rubbing shafts to alleviate the friction. When he tightened his fingers around the sensitive organs, the intense gratification drove them both to the pinnacle of intoxication.

“Ed… Oh, Ed… Ed…mund…!”

“Peter! Oh, Peter… Oh!

This time the elder finished first, leaving long ropes of seed striping Edmund’s skin anew. As Peter continued to thrust, unable to stop the movement, Edmund grappled with their slippery shafts until he found his own satisfaction. His plaintive cries echoed in the small, rocky enclosure while his liquid virility shot out to mingle with his brother’s. When they were both spent beyond all sense or comprehension, Peter bent over his lover to press his lips against the dark-lashed eyelids – the delicate petals of flesh hiding the flashing orbs which had oft tormented him in his dreams. When they opened now, however, they were filled only with the soft glow of love. Peter wept, not knowing why, as he kissed his brother repeatedly.

“Peter… Pete…” Edmund mumbled, “I love you… I love you… so much!”

“Ed… Oh, Ed… I love you, too…”

Their mouths locked for a long, delectable moment. When they parted for lack of air, Peter hovered over Edmund, poised on weakened limbs, and looked full into the face of his love.

“Edmund… So… beautiful,” he panted, feeling as though his heart had burst open and bled itself onto the lovely creature lying now beneath him. “Why… Why are you… so beautiful? You drive me to distraction… to madness…”

Edmund’s mouth fell open – further open, for he had already been gulping in great draughts of air – as his brother’s words sank in to his mind.

“I… do?” he asked, astonished.

“Yes!” Peter cried, burying his face in Edmund’s neck. “Why else would I give up all reason – every last shred of it – to touch you so? What would drive me to seek that which is forbidden, against all seemliness and decorum and… and natural affection, to use and abuse you so? I cannot bear it! I cannot… bear it…”

So saying, Peter fell limply upon his lover’s body, unable to muster the strength (either physical or otherwise) to tear himself apart from Edmund. Shame overcame him as he realised what he had done and, even more, what perverse delight he had taken in it.

“But… Peter,” Edmund began, “you don’t need to bear it! I love you more than anything, and I will gladly let you do this to me – and more – if it pleases you. It pleases me, too! In fact, it is the most wonderful thing I have ever known, the most wonderful thing I have wished for in all my life.” Wrapping his legs around his brother to hold him close, Edmund gave his shoulders a little shake. “Peter, don’t be an ass! I want nothing more than to have you use me so, as often as you wish, for as long as you may. I would wish to be your wife, if I’d been born a girl; if I hadn’t been your sister, that is, although that’s not right, either. If I’d been born to another family, I might never have known you, and that would have been awful! But if I’d been your sister, we couldn’t have done this for fear our children would have been born with deformities. By gum! I’m making a fair muddle of this,” he sighed.

“The fault is mine,” Peter whispered. “I should never have allowed this to happen.”

“Confound it, Peter!” Edmund yelled and, with a surprising burst of strength, overturned his brother so that their positions were reversed and he straddled him on his knees. Staring down into Peter’s upturned face, he forced him to meet his eyes. “I love you! And not as a brother! It took me long enough to sort out, but now I know: I would marry you if such a thing were allowed. But since it’s not, I’d rather have the next best thing, which is to be your help in this until such a time as you must take a wife. Don’t deny me this, Peter, or… or I fear I shall… die,” he ended with an ill-concealed sob.

Peter’s expression had grown from shock to wonder as Edmund had poured out his fervour. Now he stroked his brother’s dark locks and placed his palm gently on his cheek.

“You can’t mean that,” he murmured, scarcely daring to breathe. “It’s not possible.”

“I can and I do!” Edmund declared. “And I don’t give a fig if it’s unnatural or… unseemly! I love you,” he insisted, “and I want nothing more than to be with you, to be by your side, whether you go to war or to bed. I would gladly give up everything I have, everything I hold dear, if only I could be your wife!” A tear fell out of one eye and dropped to Peter’s tunic as Edmund fought to control the quiver in his lips. “Why was I not born a woman?” he whispered as though to himself. “Why could I not have been given the chance, at least, to become what I most desire? What fault did I have – what crime did I commit – to be destined to live so close to the one I love, only to be denied that love forever?”

Peter pulled Edmund down upon himself, clasping him against his breast in a vain effort to be conjoined with him at their hearts.

“Oh, Edmund! It was no crime, only a cruelty of fate, that made us brothers! For I would gladly give up my crown and all else, if only I could take you for my love and my wife,” he confessed. “But don’t wish to be a woman on my account – for, as unnatural as it may be, I love you just the way you are.”

Edmund, though he had so lately despaired, felt a surge of joy at Peter’s words and pressed himself away from him so as to better observe his face.

“You do?” he asked. “You would? You truly, honestly, would make me your… wife?”

“If I could, yes,” Peter answered, resigned to admitting the truth now that his actions had belied it. “I love you… I have loved you… for a long time now.”

“But… But…” Comprehension finally dawned in Edmund’s mind. “Do you mean to say… that I was the one you wanted? Not the Mermaid, not Lucy, but… me?

“Yes,” Peter said, wanting nothing more than to kiss his astounded brother on his rubious lips again. “I told you, there never was a Mermaid. But I couldn’t jolly well tell you that I’d fallen in love with you – with my own brother, like a senseless fool! – let alone have the girls catch on. So when you came up with your idea about the Mermaid… well, I wasn’t about to tell you otherwise.”

“Oh, Peter!” Edmund cried, half laughing, half angry. “What an enormous ass you’ve been! If only you’d spoken up and told me the truth, right from the beginning, what needless worry you might have saved me! Not to mention yourself,” he added, with a tender stroke to Peter’s cheek. “For I would have been happy to oblige you. I daresay I might not have realised it myself at the time, but I’ve been in love with you for a long while as well. I simply couldn’t figure out the bees because I wasn’t thinking in the proper direction.”

Peter squinted up at him in confusion. “What’s this about bees? And what did you mean about Lucy, before?”

With a self-deprecating chuckle, Edmund explained, “I kept feeling like I had a swarm of bees and hornets in my stomach, buzzing and stinging me, but didn’t know why. It took me forever to put two and two together – I felt them whenever I was jealous… of you. Whenever you were talking to someone and seemed to be enjoying yourself, or when those girls in Anvard came up to you with food and drink. It wasn’t until I’d talked to Per and Darian that I knew it was a sign of being in love. I’d never paid much attention to those sorts of things, you know, so it had never occurred to me that I might have caught it myself. And as for Lucy, after you’d told me you weren’t in love with a Mermaid, I was trying to think of who there might be – someone you might love without being able to marry – and she was the closest guess I had.”

“You didn’t guess too far off,” Peter said with a sigh. “I might as well have fallen for Lucy, or Susan for that matter…”

“But Peter! That’s the beauty of it,” Edmund interrupted excitedly. “It’s not like you have to worry about having a baby with me, so we might as well enjoy this while we can! If you want me this way, and I know I want you just as much if not more, what better arrangement could we have? And don’t give me all that rot about it being improper; it happens all the time at Anvard and nobody’s the worse for it.”

Peter gaped at his brother, his mind working too sluggishly to refute what Edmund had said. It ceased functioning altogether when Edmund bent down to shower him with playful kisses.

“You are… such a… ridiculous… worrywart,” the younger king declared between planting his lips on Peter’s exposed skin, “but I love you… so much! And I have… no idea… how you managed… all this time… without telling me! It would have… driven me… insane!”

“Perhaps I am,” Peter murmured, then clutched Edmund tightly to halt his ministrations. “Perhaps I really am crazy, Ed, for now I don’t care! I want you so much… I love you… so much!”

Pulled back into his brother’s embrace, Edmund thought he might burst for sheer joy. “Then we can be crazy together, Pete. I shan’t mind anything so long as you’re with me.”

Peter laughed a bit breathlessly, for he felt rather winded by this sudden turn of events, but as the heat of Edmund’s body permeated his own and transferred the strong, steady heartbeat of the younger boy to him, he heaved a sigh of relief. It had been hard to keep such a momentous secret from his brother for so long, and it was unutterably satisfying to clasp him in his arms, the euphoria of their combined release not yet having faded. They lay there, snuggled together as though the searing sun’s rays were not enough to warm them, for a long while. Edmund was content to lie there in silence, simply enjoying the long-sought-after intimacy with his love, and Peter could not for the life of him say why such sweet communion had seemed so abhorrent to him before. In fact, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Eventually, however, both young kings realised that they would be missed by their sisters and the rest of their folk. Peter was the first to speak, squinting up at the sun which had by now traveled noticeably in its course.

“I say, Ed… we had better be getting back.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Edmund peeled himself, with some difficulty, from Peter’s side to sit up and assess their location. “Those rocks don’t look like they’d be easy to climb at all. And they’re probably scorching from being in the sun all day.”

“Yeah. We may be better off swimming back, if you’re up for it.”

Edmund grinned at him. “I’m sure I can manage. And if not, I’ll have you haul me to shore and rub my leg again.”

Peter blushed, though it was barely visible on his tanned skin. “As long as we can find a cove that’s sheltered like this one and hidden from sight… for you know where that might lead…”

Edmund leaned close to his brother and impudently kissed his nose. “I should think so! Or at least I know where I would like that to lead.”

“Ed…” Peter began, then hesitated.

“What is it?”

“I was just thinking, you know… it wouldn’t be good to have the others catching on. But I just… I don’t know how well I’ll be able to let on that I… that we… are only brothers.”

Edmund grew sober on the instant. “I know we have to be discreet about it, but you’re right: I’m not sure how I’m going to hide the fact that… well, that I’m so happy!

Peter drank in the smile that threatened to engulf his fair brother’s face. “You truly are… happy?”

“Yes,” Edmund replied, his eyes dancing with light. “I can’t remember a time, in this world or the other, when I’ve been any happier.”

Peter impulsively pulled him close to kiss his coral pink lips once more. “Neither can I,” he whispered, gazing down upon his love with unveiled fondness.

“We’ll just have to pretend to be very close brothers,” Edmund suggested with an impish grin. “Because, after all, we really are.”

“Yes. And more,” Peter pronounced while gently tracing the curve of Edmund’s cheek with a finger. “So much more.”

They kissed again, savouring the depths of their love, before finally moving back into the water.

“It’s just as well that we’re swimming back,” Edmund remarked, ever the practical one, “since we’ve made rather a mess of our clothes. We should wash out as much as we can before we go back.”

They grabbed handfuls of fine sand with which to scrub their tunics, and when they were both certain that no discernible stains remained, they struck out for the beach where their sisters and friends were awaiting their return. They explained their long absence by saying they had gone exploring among the rocks of the north shore, though they had found surprisingly little of interest.

‹‹‹‹‹ ж ›››››

Peter declined to take his bath with Edmund and Peridan that night, fearful that the sight of his brother’s naked beauty might make his desperate attraction obvious to the new Knight and Mr. Griswold. He took his turn after the two younger boys had finished and left for their respective rooms.

A short while later, Edmund tapped on the windowed door leading from the balcony into Peridan’s room. Startled, Peridan dropped the old broom handle with which he had been practising some swordfighting lunges.

“Sorry,” Edmund said with a wince as the stick clattered on the floor. “I was hoping you might have a moment.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the Knight responded gravely, thinking there was something amiss.

Edmund slipped in and closed the door, took a deep breath, and started, “I need to ask for your help in a… personal matter. And I must ask you to swear to secrecy. Nobody can know – not even my sisters. Especially my sisters,” he amended.

“My Lord, you know my life and fealty are yours. Ask of me whatsoever you will, and I shall strive to obey.”

Edmund smiled, genuinely relieved. “I know you will, Per, and I can’t tell you how glad I am to have you here, for there’s nobody else I could ask this of.” He perched on the arm of a sturdy chair and motioned for the other boy to make himself comfortable as well. “I remember when you and Darian had… come together… you said it was wonderful – the most wonderful thing that had ever happened.”

“Yes. It was,” Peridan affirmed, a slow smile curving the edges of his mouth.

“And yet you had also said that before, with the other men of Anvard, it had been… painful.”

A faint shadow swept over the Knight’s brow as he nodded. “Yes. At the hands of uncaring men, it can be a torment and a horror.”

“I need to you tell me – to show me, if necessary – how to ensure that it is pleasurable, not painful,” Edmund confided.

Peridan gaped at him for a moment, then swallowed back the obvious question. He knew the young King would only ask for such information if he had reason to believe that he would need to use it.

“Of course, Your Majesty. Where shall we begin?”

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