[personal profile] gmtaslash
Title: How you are in all the stories
Author: Trojie
Beta: Bridget
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia - Prince Caspian (movieverse)
Pairing: Edmund/Caspian
Rating: R
Summary: Um. Angsty porn? As if anyone ever expected anything different from Trojie.
Warnings: Technically underage fumblings. Very much not about the underage, though. After all, Edmund's got memories of being in his twenties, and Trojie's assuming that 'age of consent' in Telmarine noble society was probably equivalent to 'age of capability'.

When Edmund drew Caspian down onto the bedroll, he whispered that this wasn't politics, that this was just for them. Only for them.

Caspian wondered if he was lying.

'I've read the histories,' Caspian said, catching Edmund's hand and clasping it between his own. The expression in his eyes stilled Edmund for a moment. 'And I can read between the lines. If you're spying, Edmund, if there's information you want, ask me. If you don't trust me, tell me.'

'I trust you,' Edmund replied, drawing his hand free and using it to coax Caspian back against the blankets. 'I trust you, and I want you. Against all logic and reason, I might add, and against the incredibly unsubtle advice given to me by my tactless older brother.' He kissed Caspian gently. It was a knowing kiss, practised and skillful, given in full knowledge of how it would affect the inexperienced. Caspian felt overwhelmed, nervous, honoured.

'What's the matter?' he asked when Edmund drew back and curled to one side, drawing Caspian with him.

'Nothing,' Edmund said, mouthing at the lacing on Caspian's shirt. 'I just ...'

'What?' The skin over Edmund's hip, under his breeches, was tantalisingly soft.

'I want you to trust me.'

'I do,' said Caspian, with both hands under the king's clothing.

'If you do, why did you ask me about the past?' Edmund sat up. 'It was another life, Caspian, literally.'

Caspian shrugged, a strange motion to make lying down, and sat up as well. The words welled up easily - he'd wondered about this since he first became aware of Edmund's interest. 'Because ... you are still Edmund the Just. And you are still following your brother's orders, and still ... how you are in all the stories.'

Edmund made a face at that, but Caspian pressed on. 'Can you blame me? Would you believe I wouldn't think any less of you, either? Peter looks at me, and how I fight, and how I talk to the Old Narnians, and he thinks I will make a fine king, because he thinks I am like him. But you know what I know, what every scholar of Narnia has known for the past thousand years, which is that Peter was a fine king with you to support him. I will not have that luxury. And so, it seems to me, it makes sense for you to come to me as you came to your doubtful allies in the past. To make sure of me. To see what moves I will make in this kind of a chess-game.'

'It's not a game,' Edmund began, his mouth twisting unhappily. 'I didn't-'

'I wish to be frank with you.' Caspian stared down at his hands. 'Perhaps I am not the equal of Peter and Edmund together, but I can try. I have loyal friends, men and Beasts of many different abilities. I know that together we can make Narnia great again. And if that will satisfy you, if you have what you wanted now, you need not go through with this charade. I can assure you that I will not change my tune between the sheets.'

He looked up to find the king's brown eyes fixed solemnly on his own. 'Very well,' Edmund said. 'But answer me one question, before you evict me from your palatial quarters.' He gestured at the little cave with a wry expression on his face. 'If you thought all that, why on earth accept my proposition in the first place?'

That Caspian would not answer. False hope was too embarrassing to admit to.

Edmund smiled, and lifted Caspian's face to meet his own. 'Your histories must paint a bleak and lonely picture of me indeed, to have you thinking I never sought companionship outside of political games. Did they not talk of Peter's romances? How he would come home from a campaign and sweep through the ladies of the court like a whirlwind?'

Caspian nodded, knowing he blushed but relishing the feeling of Edmund's fingers, blistered from sword-handling, under his chin.

'I campaigned too,' Edmund whispered. 'I slept on hard, cold ground, alone, and I killed men, and I saw banners raised and torn down, and land lost and won. And I came home too. And you and I are fresh from combat, with knowledge of combat to come tomorrow. We don't have a court, and I don't want to romance a string of society beauties, even if we had them. I don't want to think of advance, or retreat, or advantage tonight.'

'What do you want?' Caspian asked a little hoarsely. There was too little air, too much heat in the cave.

'I want someone I can trust,' said Edmund. 'I want someone I understand, someone who knows what it's like. I want you.' He dropped his hands to Caspian's shoulders. 'Please.'

For the first time since Caspian had met him, there was no shadow of a lie in Edmund's eyes. He had to kiss him for that, that moment, and Edmund responded with such fervour that Caspian found himself swept up. Edmund cradled him, bore him to the bedroll with a tenderness he found it difficult to accept. He pushed back, pushed the pace as much as he could until he and Edmund were both bare and panting. Edmund's eyes were dark with lust and challenge, a smile played over his lips.

Caspian blushed a furious red and looked away.

'Hey,' said Edmund gently, moving closer into Caspian's space. 'Come on, now.' He ran a hand through Caspian's damp hair, cupped his cheek. 'We don't have to-'

'Don't stop,' Caspian said, need bleeding into his tone. 'Just ... show me how?'

And Edmund did, taking Caspian's hand and leading him through, showing him where to touch and how to move, pulling him in close. He showed him the rhythm of it, give, take, push, pull, the interlock of legs and of fingers together, until they finally broke apart, a hot and sticky and sated mess.

They slept tangled together, and Caspian asked no more questions. He trusted Edmund to lie to him. Whatever it was that they shared, they didn't say love, or need. They said thank you. They said goodnight.

I feel like Aslan brought you here for me, Caspian thought. Not for Narnia, for me. To teach me.

Edmund trusted him enough to sleep the night with him, but was gone before dawn. Caspian saw him at breakfast, sitting next to Peter, looking easy and rested in his gambeson. Peter saw them make eye contact and raised an eyebrow at Edmund. Edmund shook his head.

Caspian didn't mind, not really. The truth would only have caused problems.
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