MFB37: Out of the Dark

WARNING: Smut ahead!


As he picked his way deeper into the woods, Edmund wished again that he had brought a lantern or even a candle with which to see his path. Here where the trees grew more densely, only thin needles of moonlight could penetrate to the forest floor, and in some places he could not distinguish the darkness of a tree from the darkness of the night. However, he thought that the noises he was hearing sounded like a Voice (whether of a Talking Animal or a Human he could not tell) calling out for help, so he did not want to take the time to return to the camp for a light.

Groping along as quickly as he dared, he saw a yellow glow ahead among the leaves and realised that whomever the Voice belonged to, at least, had a lamp. The cries were becoming clearer though he could not distinguish any words yet. He stumbled on another root, caught himself from falling, and proceeded with more caution. As he drew near enough to see the circle of trees lit by the lamp, the Voice cried out again, saying very clearly, “Darian!”

Edmund froze for a moment, for he recognised the Voice as Per. And if Darian were involved, he feared that his squire was in dire straits. Unsheathing his hunting dagger and moving as stealthily as possible, he approached Per’s voice. He nearly collided head-on with a large tree, but when he had circled it, he stopped again, stunned beyond comprehension.

From where he stood, he could see Per lying flat on his back on the forest floor within the soft orb of light. Darian was crouched over the boy’s legs and seemed to be (in Edmund’s eyes) devouring Per’s privates, making heinously wet, slurping noises. Per had his hands in the young knight’s hair, grasping great clumps of it but not able to push him away. As Edmund watched, Per arched his back and moaned again, letting his “Ahhhn!” turn into a whimper; however, even in his shocked state of mind, Edmund realised that the cry was not a cry for help, but a cry of… wanton enjoyment.

The dumbfounded king nearly dropped his dagger in surprise, but managed to clench it and put it quietly away. Then he turned his attention once more to the spectacle before him. Per was not trying to push Darian away from his nether regions, but rather closer to them. And judging from the gasps and sounds emanating from Darian, he was not averse to complying. Edmund edged towards another tree so that he had a better view of them from the side, and now saw (what he had misinterpreted before) that Darian was not chewing off bits of the boy’s manhood, but suckling on it as eagerly as a hungry piglet would its mother’s teat. With one hand he was fondling Per’s twin stones, while his other hand was thrust beneath Per’s bottom and out of sight.

Per himself was moving his hips upward to bury himself deeper into Darian’s welcoming mouth, and his expression was that of intense concentration. Edmund felt his own manhood grow hard as he watched his squire reach the climax of his desire. Crying out repeatedly with sounds that could not be formed into words, Per shuddered several times before collapsing, spent but sated, on the ground. Only then did Edmund notice that Darian had not released the boy from his mouth, and was now gulping and swallowing, then sucking and licking his male member clean. The knowledge that the knight had ingested Per’s seed both nauseated and excited the young king.

“Was it good, my sweet?” Darian asked as he looked lovingly into Per’s face.

“Yes! Oh, yes — very good,” Per panted, opening his eyes for the first time. Edmund inched back carefully to hide in the shadows while Darian moved up along Per’s body to kiss the boy on the mouth. Seeing how happily Per responded to the knight’s advances, Edmund acknowledged that his squire was in no danger of being “distressed” by the young man, but even then he could not force himself to avert his eyes, let alone return to the camp to leave them in peace. He was remembering how wonderful it had felt to have Peter kiss him in the same way — ardently, almost hungrily — and continued to gaze upon them with inexpressible longing.

Per’s boots and hose had been discarded on the ground but he was still wearing his tunic, which Darian now began to remove. Edmund swallowed hard as he saw how tenderly Darian’s hands caressed Per’s skin, touching every inch of it as though committing it to memory. The knight’s hands were nearly as big as Peter’s, Edmund observed, and he could easily imagine how it might feel to have his brother’s larger hands traveling over his own skin. These thoughts did nothing to ease the discomfort of his burgeoning manhood, and he was glad that Darian and Per were making enough noises on their own (gasping, kissing, and murmuring sweet nothings) to allow him to expose and grasp himself in his dark hiding place. He took care to quell his own laboured breathing as he began pulling his male member to the heights of pleasure.

Darian had cast off his own clothes while savouring his lover’s flesh, and now his rampant manhood was visible in the light. Per was staring at it somewhat apprehensively, but Darian guided the boy’s hand to it, encouraging him with soft words and warm smiles to stroke it with his fist. Edmund was surprised to see that it was not nearly as large as Peter’s, although the knight was older than his brother; it was longer than either his or Per’s, but looked slender in comparison to what (Edmund knew) the High King’s was at its full girth. Still, Per was hesitant.

“If thou art not ready,” Darian said in a gentle tone, “I will not force it upon thee. No man has that right — not even the King.”

“I know,” Per replied, with a faint, nervous smile. “But I do not wish to live in the fear of it forever! I shall grow to despise myself for my cowardice if I do not confront it. And you are not like the cruel men who have forced themselves upon me heretofore — I trust you to be kind, even in this. Plant your seed in me, Darian. Do not heed me howsoever I blench!”

“Nay, but if I cause thee pain, you must tell me,” he insisted. “I would rather pluck mine own eyes out before causing thee to shed two tears from thine!”

“This I know, too,” Per whispered, his hands reaching out to encircle his lover’s neck. “But of your kindness, do the deed, even if I beg you to desist with more tears than a virgin girl! For I would conquer this bane before I am parted from you forever — else you would regard me henceforth as a child and a fool, not the man worthy of your affection and devotion, which I someday hope to be. Claim me as your own, and so banish all remembrance of lesser men! Plant in me your ardour’s seed, that I may tend it in my solitary days and bring it to bloom in my heart’s soil as the truest love, kindness, and nobility that you have ever shown to me!”

They kissed again, embracing in a tangle of limbs, but this time Edmund saw where Darian’s right hand had disappeared to, for the knight was gently nudging Per’s legs, prodding him to spread and lift them to his sides. Two of Darian’s digits were already buried in the boy’s rear passage, twisting within it to stretch the narrow opening at all points of the compass. Edmund could hardly believe his eyes when the knight added a third, forming a cuneate rod with which the boy’s orifice was opened beyond what seemed (to the uninitiated king) possible.

“Wilt thou have me? Truly?” Darian asked one last time, though his manhood was straining with deferred need.

“Truly, I will!” Per assured him, his eyes calm with determination.

Darian took out a small bladder, much like a miniature water-skin, and placed a few drops from it on to his organ, then slathered the oily fluid over its length. Positioning the now-glistening shaft against the gaping hole that his fingers had just vacated, he waited for Per to take a deep, bracing breath, then plunged himself into the younger boy’s body. Per gasped, clutched at his lover’s shoulders, then wrapped his legs around Darian’s hips, digging his heels into the knight’s buttocks.

“Shall I withdraw?” Darian asked anxiously, but Per shook his head.

“No! I will not retreat so soon from battle,” the boy declared, though his breathing was laboured, “and this is one battle that I have purposed to win!”

Darian kissed his cheeks fondly, rubbing his chest and arms to soothe him before clasping his shoulders and pressing even deeper into his cavity. Per grimaced with pain, but did not cry out. Edmund held his breath as he watched the knight’s sword plunge further into the scabbard formed by his squire’s crevice, until finally it was fitted all the way in to the hilt. Once there, Darian rested for a moment, giving Per the chance to regain his composure. The boy pulled himself up to kiss his lover with gratitude, all the while moving his hips in a circular motion, acclimating his narrow passage to the intrusion.

“Now, I am fully able to receive your seed,” he apprised Darian with a weary but triumphant smile, whereupon Darian withdrew his sword almost to the point of disuniting their bodies, then thrust it back in again. When he saw that Per’s smile grew stronger and more sure, the long-suffering knight broke forth into a cry of joy and gave himself over to the pleasures of his love’s warm flesh. Darian repeatedly assailed the buttresses of Per’s castle, marching to the ancient war-drum of lust and jostling the boy’s legs in his haste to savour every last blessing of his lover’s consent.

Watching such a profligate display, Edmund could not help but stroke his own manhood in time to Darian’s piercing thrusts, and was forced to bite his lower lip to keep from crying out when his seed spattered the vegetation before him. Even while he shook off the last drops and returned his member to its place within his clothing, he continued to observe how the knight gyrated his hips and caused Per to laugh at the sensation, and how his squire — who had been so trepidatious only moments before — was now eagerly participating in this most intimate of dances, rising up to meet his lover’s body, even pulling Darian’s organ deeper into himself by drawing him closer with his legs.

“Per… my sweetest, dearest, Per!” Darian cried, enraptured.

“My kind, faithful… patient Darian,” Per murmured, his lips soon claimed by his lover’s.

After they had wrangled and twisted for some time like a pair of snakes locked in mortal combat, there were several moments when their movements were arrested by the irrepressible surges of passion, both bodies trembling minutely as the physical token of love was passed from one to the other. Upon each surge Darian cried out his love’s name, and Per clung to him, eyes squeezed shut, cherishing the moment of completion. He hardly noticed that his own manhood was yearning for release once more. He had not only emerged the victor of this, his most dreaded conflict, but had also, for the first time, thoroughly enjoyed the act of love — sufficient reason for any young squire to celebrate.

Noting how the pair were growing quieter now that their coupling had ended, Edmund decided that it was high time to return to the camp. He had no desire to make his presence known to them, especially since he realised (albeit belatedly) that it had been intrusive of him to watch their private love-making — although it had been exceptionally informative for his inquisitive mind. He left the two behind (still speaking tender, loving words to each other) as he crept back the way he had come, regaining his bearings from the sound of the sea beating on the surf.

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Of course Peter had wanted to go looking for Edmund the moment that he had noticed his brother’s disappearance, but he could not very well leave in the middle of a party which he was hosting (although he thought, a little resentfully, that Edmund was a host as well and ought to have fulfilled his duties). He could not catch Susan alone to ask her, and in any case she had been busy with her dance partners; however, he did manage to question Lucy if she had seen Edmund leave, and although she had not, she surmised that he had sneaked away simply to avoid dancing. As this seemed the most probable reason, Peter tried to dismiss his brother’s absence from his mind and return his attentions to the young ladies from Archenland.

Whether he succeeded in being as charming and attentive to them as before was debatable. At any rate, the dancing ended not long after (much to his relief) and one of the Owls retold the story of how King Peter the Magnificent had led his army into battle against the Ettins of Ettinsmoor, explaining that they were “giants with not one head, but two! Tu-whoo!” Although Peter felt uncomfortable at how some of the young ladies ogled him with open-mouthed admiration, he bore it with as much grace as he could muster.

After a few more poems and songs, everybody was ready to turn in, but still there was no sign of Edmund.

I thought for sure he would slip back in when the dancing was done, Peter thought worriedly while washing up and preparing for bed. Felicity had brought their chamomile tea and a platter of treats as usual, but the High King was in no mood to partake of them without his brother. After pacing in the tent for a few restless minutes, he threw on his bathrobe and stepped outside in the hopes of finding him.

“Is anything the matter, your Majesty?” asked one of the Fauns guarding the camp.

“Well…” Peter hesitated. He did not want to sound the alarm and disturb the peace of his guests, but he was growing concerned for his brother’s safety as well. “I think Edmund’s wandered off, perhaps on a stroll, and may be having some trouble finding his way back…”

His voice died out as he saw Edmund emerge from the forest and cross the field towards the tents. The Faun followed his gaze to also see the younger king, and chuckled in relief.

“It seems your royal brother is found, your Majesty.”

“Indeed!” Peter responded, then rushed to meet him.

“Hi! Where have you been?” he demanded as soon as he was close enough. “I’ve been worried sick about you!”

“You have?” Edmund asked in return, looking as though he had been startled out of a daze.

“Yes, I have,” Peter asserted. “Where did you run off to? You may not like dancing, but you’re supposed to be a host, too, you know! You ought to spend more time with our guests.”

In the back of his mind, Peter’s better judgment cautioned him to not be so hard on Edmund (with a reminder of what had happened before), but he had just been relieved from a fright and was not self-possessed enough to heed his better judgment. Fortunately, Edmund was not in a state of mind to heed the sharp tone in his older brother’s voice, either.

“I say, I’m sorry — I just went for a walk, and must’ve wandered around longer than I meant to,” he replied mildly. “I didn’t mean to neglect our guests! I’ll make it up to them tomorrow, I promise.”

In the face of such an agreeable answer, Peter had no reason to stay upset, so he caught Edmund’s shoulders with one arm to lead him back to their tent, saying only, “Well, at least let someone know if you’re going to leave the camp — there shouldn’t be any dangerous Creatures in this area, but we can’t be too careful…”

“Oh, Peter!” Edmund laughed. “You sound like a Marsh-Wiggle!”

Peter cuffed him lightly on the head, but could not help laughing at the apt analogy.

“I do, don’t I?” he admitted. “And no doubt the biscuits that Felicity made for us tonight are going to turn into frogs in our stomachs!”

“And turn us into stone,” Edmund added with a grin as they entered their tent. Peter poured the tea (which had grown cold) as his brother washed up, and they sat companionably side-by-side on Peter’s bed while they shared the treats.

“Peter, can I sleep with you tonight?” Edmund asked after a thoughtful pause.

“Ed… you know we can’t. I can’t let… well… the sort of thing that… happened this morning,” Peter stumbled, turning red in the face, “ever happen again. It’s just… not right.”

Edmund mulled this over for a moment before shrugging and remarking, off-handedly, “So you say.” He rose and gave his stricken brother a hug, mumbling “Goodnight” in his ear, then slipped into his own bed. Despite all that he had witnessed that day, the one image that lingered in his mind’s eye as he drifted into sleep was Peter’s anxious face, welcoming him home.


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