S is for Shaving: Chronicles of Narnia Fic
Author: Bitterfig
Title: S is for Shaving
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Caspian/Edmund (past Edmund/White Witch)
Summary: Edmund’s first shave.
Beta Reader: Fedink
Word Count: 453
Rating: R
Contains: Chan, sexual content, sharp implements in sensitive places.
Author’s Note: Written for lilian_cho for the A to Z meme.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any illegal acts taking place within that fiction are NOT condoned by the author. Depictions of any questionable, illegal, or potentially illegal activity in said fiction does not mean that I condone, promote, support, participate in, or approve of said activity. I grasp the distinction between fiction and reality and trust that readers will do the same.
S is for Shaving
“Are you ready?” Prince Caspian asked as Edmund emerged, naked and dripping from the icy cold spring pool. In his hand Caspian held a razor, simple and straight. As mundane or dangerous as its user chose.
Water shining on his thin body, Edmund took a seat beside the Prince on the grassy bank.
“I’m sorry to ask,” Edmund said. “I was a grown man once, a King. I shaved myself every day for years and years but somehow I’ve forgotten.”
“So you’ll learn again,” Caspian said. He worked a coarse piece of soap into a lather and dabbed the foam on Edmund’s face. “I’m surprised you chose me for this task rather than your brother.”
“I asked Peter,” Edmund admitted. “He said I wasn’t ready yet. He thinks I’m still a little boy.”
“Ah, but we know better,” Caspian said. Gently he scraped the foam and the soft, pale brown hairs from Edmund’s cheeks and chin, from around his lips. “Tilt your head back,” he commanded and Edmund bared his throat to the blade. His whole body stiff with nerves, he felt as though he was placing his life in Caspian’s hands.
The Prince did not so much as nick his tender flesh and this earned Edmund’s trust.
“Please, don’t stop yet,” he said when Caspian had finished. “Won’t you please do the rest?”
“The rest?” Caspian asked, baffled.
“Everything else,” Edmund pleaded. “My chest, my legs…” his hand fell to his naked groin. “Here too.”
“As you wish,” Caspian said simply. Edmund was surprised; he’d expected a refusal or a demand for an explanation. Instead Caspian lathered his narrow chest and painstakingly cut away the scant down growing there. He then moved on to Edmund’s legs, taking each in his hands, stretching it out, rubbing it with lather before applying the razor. At last he reached Edmund’s pubis and lathered the triangle of light hair there. Only then did he ask, “Why do you want this done?”
“Because of her,” Edmund blurted out. He’d been dreading but waiting for the questions. “Because of the White Witch. I want to be as I was when I met her. As I was when she had me.”
He whimpered as Caspian lifted his penis and began to shave the hair that grew at its base. Edmund wasn’t sure if it was Caspian’s touch or the memory of the Witch that made him suddenly grow hard. The razor was cold and sharp but Caspian’s fingers were warm. Edmund wasn’t sure which it was that made him stiffen, tremor, and finally come.
Caspian said nothing. He only finished the shave and then, drying his hands on the grass, stroked the newly hairless flesh of Edmund’s cheek.
Title: S is for Shaving
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Caspian/Edmund (past Edmund/White Witch)
Summary: Edmund’s first shave.
Beta Reader: Fedink
Word Count: 453
Rating: R
Contains: Chan, sexual content, sharp implements in sensitive places.
Author’s Note: Written for lilian_cho for the A to Z meme.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any illegal acts taking place within that fiction are NOT condoned by the author. Depictions of any questionable, illegal, or potentially illegal activity in said fiction does not mean that I condone, promote, support, participate in, or approve of said activity. I grasp the distinction between fiction and reality and trust that readers will do the same.
S is for Shaving
“Are you ready?” Prince Caspian asked as Edmund emerged, naked and dripping from the icy cold spring pool. In his hand Caspian held a razor, simple and straight. As mundane or dangerous as its user chose.
Water shining on his thin body, Edmund took a seat beside the Prince on the grassy bank.
“I’m sorry to ask,” Edmund said. “I was a grown man once, a King. I shaved myself every day for years and years but somehow I’ve forgotten.”
“So you’ll learn again,” Caspian said. He worked a coarse piece of soap into a lather and dabbed the foam on Edmund’s face. “I’m surprised you chose me for this task rather than your brother.”
“I asked Peter,” Edmund admitted. “He said I wasn’t ready yet. He thinks I’m still a little boy.”
“Ah, but we know better,” Caspian said. Gently he scraped the foam and the soft, pale brown hairs from Edmund’s cheeks and chin, from around his lips. “Tilt your head back,” he commanded and Edmund bared his throat to the blade. His whole body stiff with nerves, he felt as though he was placing his life in Caspian’s hands.
The Prince did not so much as nick his tender flesh and this earned Edmund’s trust.
“Please, don’t stop yet,” he said when Caspian had finished. “Won’t you please do the rest?”
“The rest?” Caspian asked, baffled.
“Everything else,” Edmund pleaded. “My chest, my legs…” his hand fell to his naked groin. “Here too.”
“As you wish,” Caspian said simply. Edmund was surprised; he’d expected a refusal or a demand for an explanation. Instead Caspian lathered his narrow chest and painstakingly cut away the scant down growing there. He then moved on to Edmund’s legs, taking each in his hands, stretching it out, rubbing it with lather before applying the razor. At last he reached Edmund’s pubis and lathered the triangle of light hair there. Only then did he ask, “Why do you want this done?”
“Because of her,” Edmund blurted out. He’d been dreading but waiting for the questions. “Because of the White Witch. I want to be as I was when I met her. As I was when she had me.”
He whimpered as Caspian lifted his penis and began to shave the hair that grew at its base. Edmund wasn’t sure if it was Caspian’s touch or the memory of the Witch that made him suddenly grow hard. The razor was cold and sharp but Caspian’s fingers were warm. Edmund wasn’t sure which it was that made him stiffen, tremor, and finally come.
Caspian said nothing. He only finished the shave and then, drying his hands on the grass, stroked the newly hairless flesh of Edmund’s cheek.