MFB35: Sliding

WARNING: Smut ahead!


Mr. Tumnus knocked and entered Per’s room first in the morning, as he usually did.

“Good morning, master Per,” he said cheerfully, giving the boy’s shoulder a little shake. “We’re to go hunting in the north today! First up by sea to the Northern Marsh, then camping in Owl Wood for the night, where there’ll be bonfires and dances with the Dryads and all sorts of splendid things!”

Per rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed, yawning as though he had not slept well enough or long enough.

“I do hope Queen Lucy will let me smell her magic potion again,” he mumbled. “I’m not very fond of boats.”

The Faun kindly resisted from correcting him that the Splendor Hyaline was a ship, not a boat, and left the boy still yawning as he got ready. Entering King Edmund’s room, however, Mr. Tumnus was baffled when he found the bed turned down with no signs of the young king having slept in it — or, for that matter, of King Edmund himself. However, he recalled where he had found the missing monarch while they were visiting Anvard, and trotted over to King Peter’s room. There he found both brothers curled up together, fast asleep.

Just like two Bear cubs, he thought to himself with a smile.

“King Peter, King Edmund,” he called gently. “You did ask to be roused rather early today, as we’re traveling a long way.”

Peter awoke first at the Faun’s insistent shakes.

“Oh. Yes, of course. The hunting trip,” he responded, somewhat distracted by finding his brother in his arms and trying not to act awkward about it in front of Mr. Tumnus (which only made him feel more awkward). “I think Mrs. Dumplesugar has gotten all of my things together. I’ll be along in just a bit — with Edmund, too, of course.”

“Very good, your Majesty,” Mr. Tumnus replied before leaving to attend to their guests.

Peter sighed in relief as the door closed behind the Faun, for he had a rather pressing matter to attend to, himself: not only was his manhood straining at the confines of his undergarment, but it was also pressed up against his brother’s counterpart, sharing their mutual heat even through the layers of cloth (for both kings were wearing the thinnest, coolest linen nightshirts now that Narnia was at the height of summer). He tried to disentangle himself from Edmund’s embrace, but set his elbow down hard on the younger boy’s arm, awakening him quite effectively and thoroughly.

“Ow!” Edmund protested, disoriented for a moment.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry,” Peter said, backing away from him as best he could.

Edmund began to get his bearings as he nursed his arm.

“It’s all right,” he replied. “You just startled me is all.”

“I didn’t hurt you?”

“No. I doubt it’ll even bruise.”

“I’m glad — it wouldn’t be any fun if you can’t hunt on the hunting trip.”

“Oh! Right,” Edmund said, perking up with excitement. “I can’t wait to see Dripweather again! Although I suppose he’ll have dire predictions for how badly we’ll fare in the hunt. I say, Peter,” he added, noticing how his brother was inching away from him, “you’re liable to fall out of bed if you get so close to the edge!”

“What? Oh,” Peter replied, turning to look behind him and realising, belatedly, how close to the edge he already was — in fact he would have fallen off right then, as he tipped over to see, if Edmund had not grabbed him and pulled him back from the brink.

“Watch it!” he laughed as he drew Peter closer to himself. “It won’t be any fun if you can’t hunt, either!”

“Thanks,” he gasped, holding on to Edmund as his heart raced from his momentary loss of balance. It didn’t help matters that his manhood was twitching with renewed interest at Edmund’s slender fingers, which had wrapped around his waist in a gesture that was as affectionate as it was practical. The younger boy was still pulling him in towards the center of the bed, away from one kind of danger and yet (unwittingly) closer to another.

“You needn’t hurry off in such a rush,” Edmund pointed out as Peter tried to sit up and resist his tugs. “Why, the sun’s barely risen yet! I know we said we would leave as early as possible, but we still have to have breakfast, and with all the girls going on this trip, we’re bound to be delayed a good while.”

“You’re probably right,” Peter conceded, though still attempting to break free from his brother’s grip.

Edmund, who was feeling quite happy at the prospect of traveling north, pounced on Peter in a playful move, pinning him down with a shout of triumph. A short tussle ensued in which both boys got tangled in the bedding as well as each other’s limbs, and Peter arose the victor this time, having grabbed Edmund’s wrists to hold him down. As they paused to catch their breath for a moment, the younger boy — whose good humour had not been spoilt by his defeat — giggled with glee.

“Oh, Peter!” he cried, looking up at his brother’s flushed face. “I have no choice but to say ‘Uncle!’ in the presence of such greatness!”

“You’ve got that right,” Peter told him with as stern a look as he could manage. His expression quickly turned to one of shock and then horror, though, as Edmund lifted up his hips to press their privates together — in fact, they had already been touching as Peter straddled him, and Edmund had merely made it more obvious by his movement.

“You’re so huge! So… manly,” he joked, although he meant it as well. He continued to slide his smaller member against his brother’s as he added, “I think you must be twice as large as me. At this rate I don’t know that I’ll ever catch you up…”

Peter groaned and doubled over, burying his forehead in the pillow behind Edmund’s shoulder. Some of his seed had shot out against his will at the forced contact, and now it was all he could do to keep his body still. He was trembling with the effort, for his male instincts were screaming at him to thrust against that wonderful heat and release the rest of his pent-up passion.

“What? Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Edmund asked in rapid succession, worried that he might have damaged his brother’s most important (or at least, most sensitive) organ.

“Just… don’t move,” Peter whispered between taking in great draughts of air. He was squeezing his brother’s wrists rather too tightly for comfort but couldn’t spare them a thought right now.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Edmund protested, his brow creasing with worry as he tried to peer into Peter’s face.

“I know,” was all the older boy could manage as he groaned and turned away, resting his cheek on his brother’s shoulder.

“Actually, it felt rather good to me,” Edmund sighed. “So hot, and solid, and… Oh!” he cried as a thought occurred to him. “Did it rather… feel too good, Peter? Is that what’s bothering you?”

Peter swallowed hard, embarrassed beyond words at having been found out. He attempted to remove himself physically from his predicament, only to discover that he was still holding his brother’s hands, and let them go in order to push himself up off of him. However, the moment he did so, Edmund slipped those hands around him in an unyielding embrace.

“That’s it, isn’t it? It felt good to you, too,” he demanded, reading the answer in Peter’s stricken face. “It’s all right, Pete — I know you keep saying how wrong it is for us to help each other this way, but I think that’s all rot. We’d have to take care of this on our own, anyhow, so it can’t be that bad to do it together.”

As he argued his point, Edmund had resumed sliding his manhood against Peter’s, keeping a firm grip on his brother’s hips so that he could not escape the sensations assailing him — not that he wanted to! For Edmund’s body was hot and solid, providing a delicious friction for his desperate need, and upon one particularly strong and satisfying stroke, the older boy lost all control of his conscious self and gave in to his base desires. He clutched at Edmund’s shoulders with both hands, holding him captive as he began his own onslaught of lust, thrusting and pressing his leaking organ against his brother’s equally needy one.

“P—Peter!” Edmund gasped, surprised at how willing he had suddenly become. He was almost cowed by his brother’s strength as he loomed over him, forcing him down into the bed with every stroke, and became acutely aware of how much bigger Peter was in every way. He also noticed that the bees (which had been humming happily in his stomach since he’d awoken) were now buzzing frantically throughout his body, and that the sense of helplessness only served to heighten his strange excitement. With a thrill that traveled up his spine, the younger boy realised that he liked being overpowered by Peter, he liked having his brother take charge of this intimate dance, and he liked seeing the usually very proper High King of Narnia out of control and simply doing what he wanted to do.

In fact, Peter was so eager, so desperate to relieve his need, that he was making the linen clothing chafe both of their skin. He had been caught up by the storm of his passion and driven so far out to sea that he could no more think of hoisting the sails than of mooring to a nonexistent jetty. He continued his frenzied movements until his seed began to spill in earnest, the wetness seeping through his already moistened undergarment and nightshirt to dampen Edmund’s undergarment as well (his nightshirt had been shoved out of the way by the repeated thrusts). As Peter finished with a final, drawn-out grunt, his hips ground against Edmund’s body one last time, and his male member trembled and shivered as though it were in an epileptic fit.

“E—Ed—mund,” he breathed as he collapsed on his brother’s slender frame, his hands moving of their own accord to clasp his love in a sated embrace. His mind seemed to have been filled with a cloud of happiness, so blindingly white that it precluded all other thought. His lips sought out Edmund’s skin wherever it was exposed — his shoulder, his neck, his cheek — and planted hot, sloppy kisses over every inch of it. He wanted to hold him this way forever; nothing else mattered. Indeed, he had forgotten about the hunting trip, even Narnia itself.

“Peter?” Edmund called quietly as he felt his brother’s passion recede. His heart had been thudding like a blacksmith’s hammer while Peter had plundered his body for pleasure, but now it was slightly calmer, which allowed him to take stock of his own condition — that is to say, his manhood was not yet satisfied. “Peter, I… I need you to help me…”

Called back to the present by his brother’s voice, Peter placed one more kiss on his pale, smooth skin before arousing himself to look down at that beautiful face.

“What’s that?” he asked, his eyes still somewhat unfocused, as though in a dream.

“I need you to help me, like you did before,” Edmund repeated. “I’m not finished yet.”

“Oh!” Peter exclaimed, suddenly feeling the hot member that was trapped under his belly. “Sorry, I… I didn’t realise…”

“It’s all right,” Edmund soothed, freeing his long-suffering organ from his undergarment as soon as Peter rolled over to allow it. He guided his brother’s larger hand to it with a pleading look. “Just help me… please.”

Peter wrapped his hand around it without comment, his mouth having gone dry. His sanity was slowly returning to him and he was beginning to feel the pangs of shame and regret, but having relieved his own need with his brother’s body, he could hardly deny him that same pleasure. He continued to stroke Edmund’s manhood in the rings formed by his fingers, increasing the speed and intensity in accordance with the younger boy’s moans, and made the mistake of watching his brother’s face. The expression of agony kept him spellbound as it gradually turned to ecstasy, and Edmund’s lips — red with exertion — parted to release desperate pants and then gasps of delirious joy. When he finally reached the pinnacle of pleasure and shot his seed out all over Peter’s hand, Peter could not stop himself from bending over to claim those lips with his own. Startled, Edmund opened his eyes for a moment, then closed them again as he clutched his brother and tried (despite his inexperience) to encourage the novel contact.

They did have to break away, all too soon, in order to breathe. Peter regarded his brother with shame reddening his already blushing cheeks, whereas Edmund returned the gaze with utter bliss.

“That was… amazing,” he told Peter, one hand sliding down his brother’s chest fondly. “I’m so glad… you finally stopped grousing about it, and making up excuses why we couldn’t do it, and just did it.”

“Oh, Ed…” Peter moaned, rolling on to his back and covering his eyes with one arm as the import of his actions fully dawned upon him. “I shouldn’t’ve… I couldn’t stop myself, I’m so sorry… I can’t believe I let it get so out of hand…”

“Oh, come off it!” Edmund chided, sitting up to peer into Peter’s face (what little he could see of it). “It wasn’t so bad. In fact, I didn’t mind it at all! Sure, I wondered at first if you mightn’t hurt me — since you’re so much bigger and heavier, you know — but you didn’t, and I thought it was quite enjoyable all the way through. Especially the last bit, of course, but if you ever feel like doing that again—”

“We can’t, Ed! Don’t you see?” Peter said in anguish, removing his arm to look at his brother balefully. “This is exactly what I was trying to avoid! It’s bad enough when two boys do it at school, when they only do it because they can’t get girls to… to… give up their virtue,” he stumbled. “But it’s even worse since we’re brothers, and I’m supposed to be looking out for you! I’m supposed to be teaching you what’s right, especially since Father isn’t with us…”

“Peter! Honestly, you’re being too hard on yourself,” Edmund scowled. “They do it all the time in Anvard, at least until they’re old enough to get married. And if they do it at school back in England, then it’s clear that this is a common thing with boys anywhere, in any world! Of course they don’t talk about it — nobody talks about sex, even the regular kind where you make babies — but that doesn’t mean we’re forbidden from doing it at all. If we were, there wouldn’t be any more people before long!”

Peter thought the ceiling of his room was beginning to spin, while his brother’s logic knocked down all of the arguments that he had been piling in his mind like building blocks to form an impregnable wall. He sighed in resignation as he felt drained of power, and not just from his physical exhaustion.

“Anyhow, I suppose we’d better get ready to leave,” the younger king continued, patting Peter’s shoulder as though prodding him to get up and face the day. “I don’t know about you, but I need to wash up now. Thank heavens Mrs. Dumplesugar has made up our traveling trunks already! We’ll catch it if we’re late to breakfast, though — you know how Susan gets when things don’t go exactly according to her plan.”

With a groan, Peter willed himself to sit up, and watched Edmund peer out the door to the balcony to make sure that no-one was there.

“I’ll race you downstairs!” the younger boy called impishly over his shoulder, then darted out the door and into his own room.

Peter let out a heavy sigh before attending to the business of washing up the mess that he had made, and hoped that he could come up with a better way of explaining the moral issues at hand to his brother. The hunting trip would provide some distraction but very little time to spend alone in thought. Then suddenly, Peter froze with the washcloth to his stomach.

The hunting trip… Didn’t Mr. Tumnus say that Ed would be sharing a tent with me?

With another groan, Peter realised that there would be no respite from his brother’s eager attentions.


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