[Narnia] Cradled by the Oak [Bacchus/Edmund] [R]
Title: Cradled by the Oak
Fandom: Narnia
Pairing: Bacchus/Edmund
Rating: R
Word Count: 2000+
Summary: Edmund has a headache.
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Notes: for the very dear, forochel . Yes, you can totally blame her for making me write this *g* Pretty much pure pr0n, so enjoy!
***
Edmund slowly makes his journey away from the music, the food and the overwhelming crowds of people celebrating, to his cool and dark room. It is Yule and the Kings and Queens ofCair Paravel have thrown open the gates to all the people and creatures of Narnia. Fauns, centaurs, dwarfs and any number of other creatures have flooded the halls, ready to celebrate in the cold of winter, to say farewell to the old year and hello to the new. The air is chill outside, but inside the warmth of bodies swarm against each other, the kitchens turn over a thousand delicious dishes and the music whispers and roars in every room.
The Kings and Queens of Narnia were, of course, making merry with their people. Peter, surrounded by a bevy of swords-creatures, eager to hear his tales of war and warning. Susan, her graceful smile welcoming all, a careful phrase murmured and all are happy. Lucy, dancing cheerfully with everyone, her bright laughter rising above the crowds as she executes elaborate footwork with joyous ease. Edmund says what is expected of him, the worries and work of Narnia heavy on his brow. Edmund begs for forgiveness as he leaves the revelries, his presence forgotten in moments as the peoples of Narnia celebrate.
Edmund has a headache.
He also has his duties. They compress against him, though he dare not speak of his struggles. Guilt still lingers, from the time he accepted that damned Turkish Delight. Edmund places one hand on his doorknob and unlocks the door to his quarters with the other. He plans to work into the night and as he enters his room his thoughts are full ofCalormenes and spies and the peace all the Pevensie siblings have worked so hard for.
But he isn't so unaware that he isn't aware of the heavy scent of a rich, aged wine in his room. The smell of a plentiful harvest lingers though the harvest was over long ago. On the floor grapes and apples and ferns lead to Edmund's bed where Bacchus has left half of said plentiful harvest. His sheets, his pillows and his blankets are in disarray. Stains of every colour of the rainbow decorate the previously clean bedding. Edmund sighs heavily, but there is a smile at the edge of his mouth. Edmund makes his way over to bed and picks up a grape. He squeezes it and wine rushes through his fingers.
There is another scent in the air. One that makes Edmund's groin ache. He bites his lip, absently bringing his hand to his mouth to suck away the traces of Bacchus' gift.
The taste of the wine is heavy in his mouth. It feels like a kiss. The wine seems to move in his mouth, teasing his tongue and flooding his mind with images of Bacchus leaning back on Edmund's bed and pleasuring himself. But it Edmund who feels the trail of fingers sliding down his chest, tweaking his nipples and mouth pressing against his neck and nipping at the flesh there. Bacchus appears to rear up from his casual position of the bed and kiss at Edmund' neck, nipping his way down Edmund's throat. Bacchus grins at Edmund, his fingers warm and sticky against Edmund's side. It is just a glimpse but Edmund gasps and Bacchus' lustful face disappears from his mind. Gone too are the sensations.
But when Edmund rubs at his throat, the flesh is sensitive and raw, where Bacchus left his mark. It takes but a second, before Edmund makes up his mind.
It is late, but never late for Bacchus who lives in the moment.
The music blares into the night; the beat of the drums, the fiddles crying for joy and the flutes reaching for the skies. It grows dim, but never silent as Edmund walks away from his duties and into the gardens ofCair Paravel. His rubs his hands against his arms. Away from the celebration of Yule, the air is brisk.
Even though he can hear their shrieks and laughter, Edmund does not meet a soul as he makes his way through Cair Paravel's impressive gardens. Though their glory is dimmed by the night and the season, they are truly beautiful in the midsummer when flowers bloom and the trees are thrumming with life.
Bacchus hates it. The rigid rows, the plannedness of the whole thing. Bacchus prefers the wildness of what lays beyond Cair Paravel's much talked about grounds. Overgrown shrubbery, flowers that blossom when they place and trees that grow higher than the tallest towers.
The gardens gradually grow more uncivilized as Edmund makes his way to a gathering of tall, old oak trees. Inside the hallow of one such tree, Bacchus lies, staring up at the stars.
Time seems to slow as Edmund makes his way over to Bacchus.
The boy, the man, the god is beautiful in an other worldly way. His eyes wild, eyes muscles firm and forever young, his skin warm to the touch the in the strongest of blizzards, never fully clean but marked in wine, the earth and the touches of his lovers.
He stands, slowly, his movements languid and sensual. Bacchus palms his bare thighs, raking his fingernails through the sparse hair that grows there. There is a livid stain there and Edmund receives a flashback of Bacchus' thigh crushing berries as he grips his erection and Edmund moans deeply
Edmund shakes his head and takes in the real Bacchus. His lips are full as a woman's and he bites teasingly until they are full and swollen. Eyelashes longer than any girl Edmund knew flutter teasingly against high cheekbones, under heavy lids wild eyes glint dangerously. Bacchus' toes dig into the earth as he arches back against the oak tree, the long lines of his body a beautiful temptation, the branches seemingly leaning towards him in a loving embrace.
Bacchus is naked but for a scrap of his loincloth. It teases the eye and Edmund wants it gone even though he has tasted what lies below many times before. Bacchus is loved, feared for the madness that rests in his eyes. Edmund boldly meets his gaze, feeling ridiculously over dressed even though moments ago he had been feeling the cold of midwinter. He shrugs off his jacket, not caring about any possible stains. He is infected by Bacchus, the addiction to lose all of his clothes growing even strong with every slow, deliberate step he takes in Bacchus' direction.
There is desire in Bacchus' eyes, a greedy need for Edmund to be all his.
The shirt, the trousers, the boots, the belt is removed and Edmund is only half sure how it happened. Bacchus' eyes light up and his licks his lips slowly, tongue thick and wet against his swollen lips. Soon they are clad alike, their bodies only a finger breadth away from each other. Bacchus exhales and Edmund inhales. He feels dizzy, as if he just swallowed a tankard of wine.
They kiss. Deeply, bruising, passionately and Bacchus brings him close, the god's body hot and so very alive under Edmund's fingertips. It is madness, his tongue waging battle with Bacchus' and Edmund tastes ambrosia on the god's tongue. He clutches at Bacchus' flesh, as if it is life line in the mad chaos of Bacchus' kisses. He can only feel, the sensation of Bacchus against him, the tongue sliding against his lip and the god's leg that is slipping between his thighs and grinds against Edmund's growing erection. Edmund groans against the kiss, for it seems that Bacchus does not need air as a mortal needs air. Bacchus breathes because he likes the thrill of life rushing through his lungs. Edmund draws back and takes a gasping breath, pupils dilated and stares up almost sightlessly at Bacchus. There is a feral look of Bacchus as he takes in the pleasure struck expression on Edmund's face and the ravished appearance of the mortal.
Then Bacchus smiles, a satisfying look on his face as he gently presses a kiss against Edmund's parted lips. One hand is tracing patterns on Edmund's side, patterns that trace the future of Narnia if only Edmund could understand them. Above them the stars dance and twirl, reflecting the movement of Bacchus' skillful touch. They only mean ecstasy to Edmund and he moans. Twisting around, Bacchus growls and divests Edmund of his loincloth. Bacchus' own disappears in the moment as well. Thrust against the oak tree, Edmund shivers not with cold but at the skillful touch of Bacchus' tongue against his thighs. Nipping at the soft flesh, kissing at the red marks that form there, Bacchus makes his mark on Edmund.
The god has brought civilisation to the world, but he also a creature of wild celebration and Bacchus feels his spirits rise as Edmund's pants and twists under his touch. Even here, the beat of the music reaches them and Bacchus times the movement of his fingers and tongue to the drums, flutes and fiddles. A quick lick down Edmund's engorged length, one hand cupping Edmund's butt. He splays his fingers and digs his fingers into Edmund's behind as he takes Edmund whole in his mouth and sucks for a long moment that no mortal could manage.
A flush rises in Edmund's cheeks, beads of sweat crowning his brow. Bacchus watches him through half lidded eyes, chaos swarming under the long lashes that any girl would be proud of. Edmund is drawing his brows together, a sure sign that he is close to completion. With one final twist of his fingers deep inside Edmund that sets Edmund's nerves afire but does not push him across the final line of completion, Bacchus pauses in his work and smiles up at Edmund, the glints of canines visible. They are bright in the darkness, adding a dangerous edge to Bacchus' pretty face.
Edmund whines, a childish sound and gazes at Bacchus as if his heart has been broken and trashed upon. Bacchus laughs, his senses alive. He can feel themaenads pausing in their own pleasure making as they wonder what their god is doing. The forests beyond the grounds of Cair Paravel are alive with copulation. Bacchus is hardly one to deny the spirit of Yule.
And Edmund? Edmund only desires Bacchus and the pleasure that he brings. He leans forward and kisses the beautiful god, his right hand taking a hold of the erection of Bacchus, while his left gently cradles the head of his lover. Laughing gaily, Bacchus presses a quick succession of kisses against the palm of Edmund's hand. Then he gasps, surprised at the ingenuity of this mortal. Bacchus closes his eyes to the pleasure for a brief moment and is rewarded when he opens them to the vision of Edmund looking determined. His brow dotted with beads of sweat, his kiss swollen, wine darkened lip caught between his white teeth. Bacchus feels a thrill of pleasure slide down his spine as he licks away the last trace of the wine from Edmund's lips.
While Edmund is returning the favour by sucking at his lip, Bacchus cries out, a wild whoop of joy that is heard far and wide. He sags against Edmund, resting his forehead against the oak tree. Bacchus feels it hum in satisfaction. Edmund, however, is far from satisfied.
Bacchus laughs and turns the laugh into a kiss. His enjoyment vibrates down Edmund and Edmund arches once more against the tree, fingers scrambling for balance as Bacchus drives him to wilder heights of pleasure. His eyes are wide open, his mouth too and he is still for one long second as he comes. Edmund moans a breathy little sigh until Bacchus' shoulder as he rests against him.
The earth feels alive after their completion. Bacchus falls down to the ground, grapes and wine forming under his hand as he pulls down a slack and easy Edmund down to the ground. His mortal is still loose and warm and Bacchus brings him close. He rests his chin on Edmund's dark thatch of hair. Edmund's breath is slowing and his eyelids are drooping. Bacchus could slip off and find another willing body but he waits. Plucks a grape of its vine and drops it in his mouth and smiles with sharp pleasure as the juices escape from his mouth. He presses a grape smeared kiss against Edmund's brow and turns his gaze to the stars once more.
Fandom: Narnia
Pairing: Bacchus/Edmund
Rating: R
Word Count: 2000+
Summary: Edmund has a headache.
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Notes: for the very dear, forochel . Yes, you can totally blame her for making me write this *g* Pretty much pure pr0n, so enjoy!
***
Edmund slowly makes his journey away from the music, the food and the overwhelming crowds of people celebrating, to his cool and dark room. It is Yule and the Kings and Queens ofCair Paravel have thrown open the gates to all the people and creatures of Narnia. Fauns, centaurs, dwarfs and any number of other creatures have flooded the halls, ready to celebrate in the cold of winter, to say farewell to the old year and hello to the new. The air is chill outside, but inside the warmth of bodies swarm against each other, the kitchens turn over a thousand delicious dishes and the music whispers and roars in every room.
The Kings and Queens of Narnia were, of course, making merry with their people. Peter, surrounded by a bevy of swords-creatures, eager to hear his tales of war and warning. Susan, her graceful smile welcoming all, a careful phrase murmured and all are happy. Lucy, dancing cheerfully with everyone, her bright laughter rising above the crowds as she executes elaborate footwork with joyous ease. Edmund says what is expected of him, the worries and work of Narnia heavy on his brow. Edmund begs for forgiveness as he leaves the revelries, his presence forgotten in moments as the peoples of Narnia celebrate.
Edmund has a headache.
He also has his duties. They compress against him, though he dare not speak of his struggles. Guilt still lingers, from the time he accepted that damned Turkish Delight. Edmund places one hand on his doorknob and unlocks the door to his quarters with the other. He plans to work into the night and as he enters his room his thoughts are full ofCalormenes and spies and the peace all the Pevensie siblings have worked so hard for.
But he isn't so unaware that he isn't aware of the heavy scent of a rich, aged wine in his room. The smell of a plentiful harvest lingers though the harvest was over long ago. On the floor grapes and apples and ferns lead to Edmund's bed where Bacchus has left half of said plentiful harvest. His sheets, his pillows and his blankets are in disarray. Stains of every colour of the rainbow decorate the previously clean bedding. Edmund sighs heavily, but there is a smile at the edge of his mouth. Edmund makes his way over to bed and picks up a grape. He squeezes it and wine rushes through his fingers.
There is another scent in the air. One that makes Edmund's groin ache. He bites his lip, absently bringing his hand to his mouth to suck away the traces of Bacchus' gift.
The taste of the wine is heavy in his mouth. It feels like a kiss. The wine seems to move in his mouth, teasing his tongue and flooding his mind with images of Bacchus leaning back on Edmund's bed and pleasuring himself. But it Edmund who feels the trail of fingers sliding down his chest, tweaking his nipples and mouth pressing against his neck and nipping at the flesh there. Bacchus appears to rear up from his casual position of the bed and kiss at Edmund' neck, nipping his way down Edmund's throat. Bacchus grins at Edmund, his fingers warm and sticky against Edmund's side. It is just a glimpse but Edmund gasps and Bacchus' lustful face disappears from his mind. Gone too are the sensations.
But when Edmund rubs at his throat, the flesh is sensitive and raw, where Bacchus left his mark. It takes but a second, before Edmund makes up his mind.
It is late, but never late for Bacchus who lives in the moment.
The music blares into the night; the beat of the drums, the fiddles crying for joy and the flutes reaching for the skies. It grows dim, but never silent as Edmund walks away from his duties and into the gardens ofCair Paravel. His rubs his hands against his arms. Away from the celebration of Yule, the air is brisk.
Even though he can hear their shrieks and laughter, Edmund does not meet a soul as he makes his way through Cair Paravel's impressive gardens. Though their glory is dimmed by the night and the season, they are truly beautiful in the midsummer when flowers bloom and the trees are thrumming with life.
Bacchus hates it. The rigid rows, the plannedness of the whole thing. Bacchus prefers the wildness of what lays beyond Cair Paravel's much talked about grounds. Overgrown shrubbery, flowers that blossom when they place and trees that grow higher than the tallest towers.
The gardens gradually grow more uncivilized as Edmund makes his way to a gathering of tall, old oak trees. Inside the hallow of one such tree, Bacchus lies, staring up at the stars.
Time seems to slow as Edmund makes his way over to Bacchus.
The boy, the man, the god is beautiful in an other worldly way. His eyes wild, eyes muscles firm and forever young, his skin warm to the touch the in the strongest of blizzards, never fully clean but marked in wine, the earth and the touches of his lovers.
He stands, slowly, his movements languid and sensual. Bacchus palms his bare thighs, raking his fingernails through the sparse hair that grows there. There is a livid stain there and Edmund receives a flashback of Bacchus' thigh crushing berries as he grips his erection and Edmund moans deeply
Edmund shakes his head and takes in the real Bacchus. His lips are full as a woman's and he bites teasingly until they are full and swollen. Eyelashes longer than any girl Edmund knew flutter teasingly against high cheekbones, under heavy lids wild eyes glint dangerously. Bacchus' toes dig into the earth as he arches back against the oak tree, the long lines of his body a beautiful temptation, the branches seemingly leaning towards him in a loving embrace.
Bacchus is naked but for a scrap of his loincloth. It teases the eye and Edmund wants it gone even though he has tasted what lies below many times before. Bacchus is loved, feared for the madness that rests in his eyes. Edmund boldly meets his gaze, feeling ridiculously over dressed even though moments ago he had been feeling the cold of midwinter. He shrugs off his jacket, not caring about any possible stains. He is infected by Bacchus, the addiction to lose all of his clothes growing even strong with every slow, deliberate step he takes in Bacchus' direction.
There is desire in Bacchus' eyes, a greedy need for Edmund to be all his.
The shirt, the trousers, the boots, the belt is removed and Edmund is only half sure how it happened. Bacchus' eyes light up and his licks his lips slowly, tongue thick and wet against his swollen lips. Soon they are clad alike, their bodies only a finger breadth away from each other. Bacchus exhales and Edmund inhales. He feels dizzy, as if he just swallowed a tankard of wine.
They kiss. Deeply, bruising, passionately and Bacchus brings him close, the god's body hot and so very alive under Edmund's fingertips. It is madness, his tongue waging battle with Bacchus' and Edmund tastes ambrosia on the god's tongue. He clutches at Bacchus' flesh, as if it is life line in the mad chaos of Bacchus' kisses. He can only feel, the sensation of Bacchus against him, the tongue sliding against his lip and the god's leg that is slipping between his thighs and grinds against Edmund's growing erection. Edmund groans against the kiss, for it seems that Bacchus does not need air as a mortal needs air. Bacchus breathes because he likes the thrill of life rushing through his lungs. Edmund draws back and takes a gasping breath, pupils dilated and stares up almost sightlessly at Bacchus. There is a feral look of Bacchus as he takes in the pleasure struck expression on Edmund's face and the ravished appearance of the mortal.
Then Bacchus smiles, a satisfying look on his face as he gently presses a kiss against Edmund's parted lips. One hand is tracing patterns on Edmund's side, patterns that trace the future of Narnia if only Edmund could understand them. Above them the stars dance and twirl, reflecting the movement of Bacchus' skillful touch. They only mean ecstasy to Edmund and he moans. Twisting around, Bacchus growls and divests Edmund of his loincloth. Bacchus' own disappears in the moment as well. Thrust against the oak tree, Edmund shivers not with cold but at the skillful touch of Bacchus' tongue against his thighs. Nipping at the soft flesh, kissing at the red marks that form there, Bacchus makes his mark on Edmund.
The god has brought civilisation to the world, but he also a creature of wild celebration and Bacchus feels his spirits rise as Edmund's pants and twists under his touch. Even here, the beat of the music reaches them and Bacchus times the movement of his fingers and tongue to the drums, flutes and fiddles. A quick lick down Edmund's engorged length, one hand cupping Edmund's butt. He splays his fingers and digs his fingers into Edmund's behind as he takes Edmund whole in his mouth and sucks for a long moment that no mortal could manage.
A flush rises in Edmund's cheeks, beads of sweat crowning his brow. Bacchus watches him through half lidded eyes, chaos swarming under the long lashes that any girl would be proud of. Edmund is drawing his brows together, a sure sign that he is close to completion. With one final twist of his fingers deep inside Edmund that sets Edmund's nerves afire but does not push him across the final line of completion, Bacchus pauses in his work and smiles up at Edmund, the glints of canines visible. They are bright in the darkness, adding a dangerous edge to Bacchus' pretty face.
Edmund whines, a childish sound and gazes at Bacchus as if his heart has been broken and trashed upon. Bacchus laughs, his senses alive. He can feel themaenads pausing in their own pleasure making as they wonder what their god is doing. The forests beyond the grounds of Cair Paravel are alive with copulation. Bacchus is hardly one to deny the spirit of Yule.
And Edmund? Edmund only desires Bacchus and the pleasure that he brings. He leans forward and kisses the beautiful god, his right hand taking a hold of the erection of Bacchus, while his left gently cradles the head of his lover. Laughing gaily, Bacchus presses a quick succession of kisses against the palm of Edmund's hand. Then he gasps, surprised at the ingenuity of this mortal. Bacchus closes his eyes to the pleasure for a brief moment and is rewarded when he opens them to the vision of Edmund looking determined. His brow dotted with beads of sweat, his kiss swollen, wine darkened lip caught between his white teeth. Bacchus feels a thrill of pleasure slide down his spine as he licks away the last trace of the wine from Edmund's lips.
While Edmund is returning the favour by sucking at his lip, Bacchus cries out, a wild whoop of joy that is heard far and wide. He sags against Edmund, resting his forehead against the oak tree. Bacchus feels it hum in satisfaction. Edmund, however, is far from satisfied.
Bacchus laughs and turns the laugh into a kiss. His enjoyment vibrates down Edmund and Edmund arches once more against the tree, fingers scrambling for balance as Bacchus drives him to wilder heights of pleasure. His eyes are wide open, his mouth too and he is still for one long second as he comes. Edmund moans a breathy little sigh until Bacchus' shoulder as he rests against him.
The earth feels alive after their completion. Bacchus falls down to the ground, grapes and wine forming under his hand as he pulls down a slack and easy Edmund down to the ground. His mortal is still loose and warm and Bacchus brings him close. He rests his chin on Edmund's dark thatch of hair. Edmund's breath is slowing and his eyelids are drooping. Bacchus could slip off and find another willing body but he waits. Plucks a grape of its vine and drops it in his mouth and smiles with sharp pleasure as the juices escape from his mouth. He presses a grape smeared kiss against Edmund's brow and turns his gaze to the stars once more.