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Winds of Change

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Story Summary: After defeating the Telmarines over several years of war, thereby securing the throne for Prince Caspian X, the Pevensies consider Aslan’s offer to transport them back to England. After High King Peter announces their departure, in the heat of the moment Caspian propositions Peter and Edmund with an offer he hopes they won’t refuse.

*In this AU, the Pevensies left Narnia when they were in their fifties/sixties. Narnia was all about love and acceptance, including Peter and Edmund's romantic love for each other. As long as a love was borne out of purity and consent instead of fear and abuse, it followed Aslan's edicts. Peter and Edmund had married each other and they'd left children and grandchildren behind when they'd returned to England. When they returned to Narnia, let's imagine it took several years for Caspian and the Pevensies to win the war against Miraz; lots of little skirmishes and encounters here and there before the final battle - so Edmund is now physically eighteen.

Pairings: Caspian X/adult-Peter/adult-Edmund

Warnings: This story does not completely follow movie/book-canon or timeline and can be considered an AU/ending rewrite. It contains graphic depictions of established incestuous marriage, polyamory, homosexual erotic situations between consenting adults (masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, first time sex, threesomes, rough sex, double penetration), an intersex character, magical MPREG, strong language, (mis)use of the Spanish language, violence, and maybe a little OOC-ness. All characters have been tweaked to be of legal adult age.

I do not personally condone incest in real life and this fictional work should be viewed for adult entertainment purposes only. If any of the above triggers you, if you’re not of legal age, or if you’re uncomfortable with the incestuous/homosexual themes, then you should not be reading this story. I will not be blamed for your ignorance or prejudice. Flamers will be throttled by Trumpkin.

This story is not beta-read; therefore any spelling or grammatical errors are solely my fault. But since I’m an English major, all the correct spelling and grammar is also, happily, my fault.

Author’s Note: This has been sitting on my computer since Prince Caspian came out in 2008. Good heavens, Ben Barnes is so hot and he's only gotten hotter over the years! The heated chemistry between him and William Moseley begged a story. But, if you've read my other stuff, then you know I don't write conventional pairings. This threesome needs more support!


Winds of Change

By Noelle Scribe

(AKA Scarlet Willows)



With King Edmund, friendship had come easily and swiftly. Caspian had settled into a compassionate fellowship with the raven-haired youth who was wise beyond his years.


But the violent tension, uneasy alliance, and power struggle had colored Peter and Caspian's first meeting well into their first year of acquaintanceship. Over several years, it had melded into a respectful regard...and, finally, a hesitant friendship. After much cajoling on Edmund's part.


In the quiet moments of peace between warring skirmishes, there was little for Peter and Caspian to do but interact. In the early days, the constant close proximity would drive them to fight, argue, even scream and draw swords. That is, until King Edmund would interfere and scold, "You must put on a united front!" On a few occasions - when Edmund was at his whit's end - he would lock the two headstrong leaders in a storage room in Aslan's How. "I don't care if you end up killing each other or kissing each other, but one way or another, I will have quiet!" he’d yell.


The first time this had happened, the two leaders had come to blows and sported bruises for a few days after. However, as they'd panted and nursed their pride in silence afterwards, it seemed they'd gotten the majority of their discord out of their systems. Edmund locked the two together to sort out their differences several more times. It was on these occasions, when the rage drained and calm reigned, that they began to talk...and - more importantly - listen. They shared stories and heartaches and learned of one another. An uneasy accord began to form, sowing the seeds of respect. They would talk into the wee hours of the morning, never realizing Edmund (with a knowing smile) had already given them their freedom.


When their friendship solidified (after saving each other's lives an untold number of times), they found common ground in sparring. Peter had regained more ease and agility in his form with each exercise, retraining his young muscles with motions that had once been second nature to him before he’d returned to England. Sometimes they would stargaze with Edmund while the brunette would speak of the myths behind the constellations. Sometimes the Pevensies would regale the prince with firsthand accounts of the old days; of dancing trees and wood nymphs and water sprites and magic.


Years of the tug-of-war of battle, sabotaging Miraz's troops, and roughing it amidst hasty makeshift camps had caused Caspian to see Peter in a new light. He saw Peter as the grown man that he was, stuck in an awkward youth's body, grieving the loss of authority, loved ones, and his previous life. Struggling to shoulder a heavy burden once more.


Caspian would never have predicted that he'd come to thank Edmund's desperate meddling...or that he'd come to regard the once-prickly High King as his closest friend. Warmth began to fill the Telmarine's chest whenever Peter was near. It quickly grew into a blazing passionate fire. It emerged in Edmund's presence as well, only softer, sweeter, simmering. The prince was reluctant to name these emotions.


Caspian had denied his blossoming tender feelings for years, suppressing them as best he could, attempting to redirect them onto Queen Susan for a time - to no avail. To be sure, Susan would have gladly accepted Caspian if he'd truly wanted her, but he could only be true to his heart. And he couldn't deceive Susan like that, not when he'd come to think of her as a sister.


Caspian's feelings were doomed from the start. Neither Peter nor Edmund would ever consider the Telmarine in the same rosy light.... It was a well known part of the histories that High King Peter had married his brother, King Edmund, and they'd had a family together long before they'd disappeared. That was during a Golden Age when Narnia was far more accepting and progressive. Though, the Narnians seemed to fall back on their old respect and hero-worship of the Kings of Old. No one dared a foul word against them. But the Old Kings were cautious in this new, darker Narnia and they were discreet in public even though all knew of their matrimony. However, they never made to hide their wedding bands in shame and instead wore them proudly.


While reserved, Caspian sometimes caught the way the brothers looked hungrily at each other. It awoke dark desire and despair in equal measures inside of the prince. At first, he thought it was envy...but then he came to realize how he longed to be with them, to be a part of that love, to share in their desire. Unfortunately, Caspian's feelings - and the angst over them - only seemed to grow stronger as the years passed.


He watched Peter shed the last vestiges of adolescence, his chiseled features sharpening; battle hardening his muscles, revealing the warrior he'd once been; the ancient ruler that had lurked beneath his deceptively boyish skin, a man worthy of authority. Peter's siblings quickly followed suit. Edmund in particular had only perfected upon his darkly elegant, pale beauty that was more akin to an elf than a Son of Adam; his frame filled out some - he was a warrior, too, after all - but not to the same degree as Peter's. It seemed Edmund would always be smaller, lithe, with an ethereal quality.


Caspian's hot gaze lingered upon the kings much too regularly now for his comfort, lest he give himself away. But sometimes, he couldn't help but admire them in the most primal way...and sometimes...he almost didn't care if they caught his hungry gaze.



It was one such occasion that Caspian found himself staring. They'd finally defeated his uncle Miraz's forces and reclaimed the castle, having won the ultimate victory. Caspian had had a grand coronation the day before, celebrated by both Telmarines and Narnians alike; a union the likes of which hadn't been seen in over a thousand years.


A huge crowd had gathered today in the courtyard, awaiting the new regime's commandments. Caspian had come to collect Peter and Aslan to make their announcements to the gathered subjects.


The newly crowned Telmarine king hastily trotted down the stone steps, then stopped in his tracks as his black eyes fell upon Susan and Peter, conversing quietly with the immortal lion. It struck him again how Peter had grown so handsome, so magnificent. So befitting of his title. The short flaxen hair caught in the sunlight; the golden tan of his skin peeked from underneath his indigo livery; his tongue swiped a line across pink bow lips; dark lashes framed downcast stormy blue eyes.


Time seemed to freeze. Caspian's breath caught in his chest. Caspian had known he'd been in love with Peter for quite some time now. He doubted there would ever come a day when Peter didn't have this effect on him. If Peter had been accompanied by Edmund in that moment, Caspian was sure his heart would have stopped at their combined magnetism. In that instant, he resolved to himself to act on his heart when things settled - when he could find some much needed alone time with the two kings.


Susan spotted Caspian, curious tears in her eyes, but it was Aslan who startled the new king from his reverie. “We are ready. Everyone has assembled,” announced Caspian, fighting the blush that always seemed poised to incriminate him whenever he looked upon Peter with masculine praise.



"...Any Telmarines who wish to stay and live in peace are welcome to," Caspian's voice carried regally over the crowd, dealing leniency and mercy. "But for any of you who wish, Aslan will return you to the home of our forefathers."


There was some commotion amongst the crowd while Aslan explained the Telmarine history, ending with: "It is a good place for any who wish to make a new start."


Caspian couldn't say he was surprised when his aunt, Lady Prunaprismia, and General Glozelle accepted the offer, and he nodded to the general, acknowledging the life debts paid between them. The feline deity blessed them with good fortune before opening a portal through a nearby tree. The last of Caspian's family disappeared through the magical tree arch into an unknown world. “How do we know he is not leading us to our death?” challenged an angry peasant.


“Sire, if my example can be of any service, I will take eleven mice through with no delay,” heroically volunteered Reepicheep. Aslan remained silent, but shared a meaningful look with Peter that spoke volumes.


“We’ll go,” said Peter, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. Caspian had known him long enough to know when the blond was putting on a brave face. The lion had once laid a heavy duty upon his young shoulders a millennia ago and now it was time to take off the proverbial crown.


“We will?” asked Edmund, a look of anxiety stealing over his pointed features, his hand creeping to his stomach as if ill.


“C’mon, time’s up,” Peter reasoned resignedly. “After all, we’re not really needed here anymore,” he uttered softly, gray-blue eyes pinning Caspian steadfastly. He walked over to the Telmarine king, encompassed by a bittersweet sadness, holding out his sword to the throne's rightful heir. Unspoken words turned the air heavy between them and Caspian had to swallow his unease.


"I will look after it until your return," offered Caspian, dark eyes locked with blue. He had fully intended to share his reign with the Kings and Queens of Old, but understood if they had other matters to settle first. Surely he would not be parted from his dearest companions forever. Surely he would again see the men he'd...fallen in love with. He had to be brave now. For his people. If a little time was all that would pass, he could wait. For, surely, all good things happened by Aslan's timing.


"That's just it," interrupted High Queen Susan, surrender filling her gentle voice. "We're not coming back." Caspian went cold and still. Perhaps Aslan had alluded to this in the earlier conversation that he'd interrupted. Maybe that was why Susan had been crying.


Horror dawned on Caspian's face while Lucy spoke his thoughts, "Why?"


Peter moved to comfort his little sister, "It's all right, Lou," his voice was silky soft with sorrow, chancing a lingering glance at Caspian. His next words seemed to shoot Caspian in the heart. "It's not how I thought it'd be...but, it's all right."


"It's not all right!" Caspian's voice, accent thick with emotion, was raised more than he'd intended - and it not only shocked himself, but all who were gathered. The crowd collectively gasped and murmured. All eyes fell on the Telmarine king, but he only cared for Peter's gaze. The High King's face was the epitome of anticipation, awaiting Caspian's next words with bated breath.


"I...I have been considering asking you a question for quite some time now, Peter, and...while I would have preferred to discuss it in private, you leave me no choice. If it means I'll never see you again, you force my hand. And...if you need more of a reason to stay...." Caspian trailed off, inhaling deeply, bolstering himself. He crossed the platform to Peter, taking both the blond's hands into his own larger ones. His voice was strong, his jaw firm, his eyes focused as they looked down into ocean blue. "High King Peter Pevensie, will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?"



I have the next couple chapters pre-written and I’ll try to update regularly, depending on how this is received. This fandom isn’t as popular anymore, but I love this pairing...and I hope I’m not the only one!

Update 5/6/2021 User name changed from Scarlet Willows to Noelle Scribe - but I am still the same author.

Chapter Text

Story Recap: "High King Peter Pevensie, will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?"


Dedication: Moonlord, Josy, Super_Kaetzchen, for your thoughtful comments!


Winds of Change

By Noelle Scribe

Change of Pace


Two years earlier....


Tents afforded little in the way of privacy and less in the way of sound, no matter how hushed. Caspian’s tent was next to Peter and Edmund's, and while he knew they were married, he'd never heard anything through the canvas of their shared tent to indicate they had a physical relationship. He knew they must have, of course, for the histories had told of Edmund's four magical pregnancies...and Lucy had blushingly confirmed when he'd plucked up the courage to ask about them. But the kings were so private about their public displays of affection that it left him to question; to blush underneath his collar when he'd imagine all the lust they must store up, unleashed for stolen moments.


Caspian had only ever seen the longing, pointed glances shared between the brothers. If Caspian hadn't seen the way Peter looked at Edmund, or the way they breathed each other in when they thought no one else was looking, Caspian might have assumed they were celibate.


But the heat in Peter's smoky gaze when he looked at his brother - Edmund's answering dilated stare, tongue wetting parted lips, chest rising with restrained anticipation - spoke of primal things that celibate people did not do. He wished for them to look at him like that. Caspian swore the kings could have sex with their eyes alone and those who didn't look too closely would be none the wiser; but Caspian was. He was looking very closely.


The fact that - to the well-trained eye - Peter was obviously in love with Edmund made him all the more beautiful to Caspian. That the blond king would come to Caspian's bed along with his elfish brother was a fantasy all too alluring. That Caspian could have them both in his sheets, watching them please each other as they pleased him, was an image too carnal for any red-blooded man to ignore. He'd lie awake in his bedroll at night after everyone had gone to sleep, fisting his shaft tightly at the thought of the two kings, biting his lip lest he wake the neighboring tents.



On one lonesome night, after the campfires of the soldiers had all been extinguished - soft snores and light padding of the centaur border patrols filtering through the breeze - Caspian hadn't been able to sleep. He'd argued that day with Peter over battle plans, the soldiers' food rations, and such. Peter was so passionate, especially when he was disagreeable, and it only fueled Caspian's desire even more for the blond youth. He often wondered what it would be like to make rough, biting, scratching love to the High King after such an argument. To see the angry flush on his golden skin turn from fury into lust. To hear his growls of frustration turn to those of passion. To rut wild and animalistic. They'd only ever drawn their swords on each other in rage twice, but he'd use Peter as his sheath any day.


Caspian was just snaking his hand into his breeches at the thought, hoping a good climax would coax him into sleep...when he caught the faintest sound. The forest wasn't exactly silent at night, nor was a sleeping army encampment, but this noise was different.


Caspian's heart skipped a beat when he heard a whisper, a hitch of breath, followed by a sigh moments later. Caspian held his breath in hope and longing. Could it be his fantasy come to life? To finally hear proof that kings did indeed exercise their right to the marriage bed? He waited for another sound, frozen with anticipation, hoping he'd hear anything over his pounding heart thrumming through his eardrums.


It came again, a stuttering moan, a hushed gasp. Edmund. The sharp suck-click sound of a kiss. A whimper rose higher than the rest of the sweet symphony before it was stifled. "Shhh, you'll wake the others, Ed," Peter cooed, tone coated with a smirk, whispering so lowly that Caspian only caught it because he was straining so hard to listen. He'd never heard Peter's voice dripping with such crooning desire and Caspian nearly made a mess of his leggings. The rustling of covers or clothes followed and then two sets of panting breaths.


Caspian took himself in hand, seizing the opportunity, biting his full bottom lip while imagining it was Peter's hand or Edmund's mouth. Just a few feet away, separated only by a few layers of canvas tent, Caspian's secret fantasies were making love.


He closed his eyes, imaging Peter's taller form draped over his smaller brother, Edmund's creamy thighs framing the blond's slowly thrusting hips, illuminated only by a few strands of moonlight. A particular shuddering gasp inspired the image of Edmund's arching back, neck bowed, exposing that graceful column of flesh. Caspian swore he must have been accurate because he heard sucking noises next - surely Peter was kissing down his brother's neck to his shoulder - Caspian wouldn't be able to resist nipping such tender, pale flesh either.


Edmund's whimpers and Peter's soft grunts quietly continued into the night accompanied by the soft slick sounds of sex and flesh on flesh, while Peter occasionally hushed his little brother, telling him to bite the pillow when it became too much. Caspian worked his rigid, leaking cock along with them, staving off his orgasm, riding the edge until he was certain the kings in the next tent had reached their climax.


He was certain when Edmund found his pleasure - it was a quiet keening, almost sobbing sound - with Peter's ragged breath shuddering to a halt shortly after. Caspian followed them over the edge, spilling his seed into a shirt that'd have to be laundered. He heard the kings kiss languidly in their post-coital aftermath as he milked his cock into the fabric, wishing he could feel their skin under his own lips.


It made him feel guilty the next day, blushing like a young schoolboy caught slacking off in his studies. But...if it was the closest he'd ever come to sharing their bed, then he'd take the proxy.


After that night, Caspian often turned in after everyone else in the hopes he might catch a stray moan on the wind.



Five months earlier....


Trufflehunter had assured them they'd find allies in Archenland and his advice had rung true. There were Narnians there who remembered the Golden Age when Sons of Adam sat on the thrones at Cair Paravel; Narnians willing to pledge their troupes and their lives.


Relieved, Caspian and the Old Kings were making the journey back to their base in Aslan's How after securing allies, camping with a handful of soldiers and Beasts. The soldiers - a motley crew of a few minotaurs, satyrs, dwarves, griffins and even a few Telmarines (who'd defected and answered the true heir's call to arms) - were singing and celebrating the small victory around the crackling fire. They all knew the risks if the undersized group was caught, but it was a small moment of respite and cheer that Caspian was loathe to halt. There had been so few of these moments in this bloody war.


Caspian, leaning against a tree, arms folded, smiled at the scene before retreating into the cave they'd found as shelter. Further inside, he knew the kings were taking solace with each other, as was habit for them in quiet moments such as this. A small fire flickered in the depths of the cave by their bedrolls and he could see their shadows casting their forms onto the stone enclosure in orange relief. They were talking in hushed tones and Caspian was about to round the bend and join them in conversation as he often did...until he heard a sniffle and a stifled sob.


He stopped in his tracks, hesitant to interrupt a private moment, but curious beyond belief. He'd never heard either of the kings cry....and wondered as to the source, since they'd completed their quest of securing allies. Surely now was a time of celebration instead of sorrow. He crouched down by the wall and strained his ears for snatches of their conversation.


"...the lord's little girl...she just looked so much like...," a hiccup and a sniffle - it was surely Edmund.


"Our daughter. I know, love. I know. I noticed the resemblance, too." Caspian could see Peter's shadow moving to hold his smaller husband, rubbing soothing hands down the brunette's back.


"I miss them so much, Pete," Edmund cried quietly, clutching onto Peter's arm. "I miss our children."


"I do, too, Ed. Shhhh, shhh, it's okay." He hushed, gently rocking Edmund in his hold.


"No, it's not," Edmund whispered. "We were supposed to be reunited with them. When we left, I never gave up hope that we would come here again...see them again. See our grandchildren again. But it was all stolen from us." His voice cracked, sorrow filled the air in cloying droves, and Caspian's heart ached for them. He'd only once overheard Lucy lament to Susan of her lost husband - a satyr named Tumnus - and the elder sister had readily lamented her consort, General Oreius. But...Caspian had never really stopped to consider what it had truly meant for the Pevensies to come back, so displaced in time. He'd known they'd had families, but he'd barely heard them speak of them, what with all the distractions of Miraz's schemes. Perhaps it was too raw a subject.


"I know. I did, too. I think...that's why I was so angry in England. We'd lived in a beautiful, welcoming land where love like ours was commonplace - the opposite of our world. I couldn't just kiss you or touch you anytime I wanted anymore. I saw couples walking down the street holding hands with their children and I envied them because...I could no longer do that with you openly. We were ripped from our home and our families without reason and...and I think I blamed Aslan for a long time. Lucy always says, 'He must know what He is doing,' but...I don't know. I wish I had as much faith as she does."


"Really? You never said...." Edmund sniffled again, his tears seeming to subside, but their shadows remained entwined.


"I think that's why I was so mad at the beginning. He came from invaders and thieves who stole our country from our family and our people. He represented everything we had lost...everything stolen from us. He was a convenient scapegoat. wasn't fair of me to pin all that on him - I know that. I wish...I just wish we could have gone back to our children to tell them what happened.... Tell them not to worry for us. Tell them we love them one last time. Hold them in our arms one last time." Peter sighed a breath heavy with regret and sadness. "But, the magic here doesn't work like that and...I think we just have to accept that we'll never know what happened to them.... It will always hurt - they were our family, after all. But moving on doesn't mean we are forgetting them, Ed."


Caspian felt his eyes sting, his vision blurring with sympathetic tears.


"Yeah...yeah, you're right, Pete. Sorry that I...broke down. I guess it all just hit me and seeing that little much like our own-"


"It's okay, love. You’re allowed to be human. It's all going to be okay. I'm here for you, always. You can fall apart in my arms a thousand times and know I will put you back together every time, alright? Don't apologize." Caspian had never heard Peter's voice so tender and, for a moment, he envied Edmund this little thing...before his heart wept for the couple who had lost so much more than he'd ever dreamed.


He wiped his face and steeled his nerves. He couldn't hide and eavesdrop all night and he needed to grab some of his supplies by his bedroll, which was next to the Kings'. He retraced his steps and made enough noise to alert the brothers to his approaching presence - to allow them enough time for dignity. When he arrived around the bend, the brother's had separated, the redness around Edmund's eyes the only evidence of their conversation.


"Hey, I hope I'm not interrupting. I just came to grab my shaving knife and head down to the river. Since there's a lull, I think it's time I address this scruff on my face," he joked, hoping to lighten the mood as he sifted through his knapsack.


"Oh...really?" asked Peter, watching the prince out of the corner of his discerning eyes, expression bordering on disappointment.


"Yes...?" answered Caspian uncertainly.


"Oh, well...I just thought you were going to let it grow your kinsman," the High King gestured nonchalantly.


"Oh, did you, now?" Caspian's eyebrow quirked, having learned how to recognize when Peter was trying act aloof. "You've given this some thought, have you?" He teased.


"No!" Peter defended, bristling. "I just think suits you, is all." He pouted, turning away from the prince to hide a rare blush, and Caspian's heart leapt at the compliment.


To his elation, Edmund coyly added, "It is rather becoming on you." The brunette's blush was more pronounced on his pale skin than his brother's, and he quickly supplemented, "You're lucky. I can't grow a beard to save my life. Mine always comes in patchy."


With a smile that stretched ear to ear, Caspian beamed, "Well, then, with such high praise from your esteemed Majesties...I suppose I will just have to leave it be."



Two months earlier....


Caspian hadn't exactly meant to spy on them. But he'd been given a rare opportunity and he'd be damned if his selfish, longing heart didn't take it. He swore under his breath he was not making this a habit. He was just...lucky. My watching won't hurt anyone, he reasoned...and it would be the closest he could ever come to being with the two brothers he was in love with.


There was a large hot spring deep in Aslan's How where the army could draw water, wash clothes and tools, and bathe. Turns were taken to preserve privacy; every so often, the women and children would bathe first, and then the males - for an army, it was a process best taken in shifts, which was why they did it so infrequently; the rest of the time, daytimes were reserved for drinking, cooking, and laundering use; nighttimes were reserved for the private use of the monarchs and high ranking officers.


It was one such night - after having raided more rations from an enemy encampment and trading with a nearby village - that Caspian was sore, dirty, and craving the healing waters of the spring. He'd long foregone the luxuries once afforded to his status; gone were servants to help him bathe, gone were sweet perfumes and oils, gone were even simple soaps and soft cloths. Though, he'd found he didn't miss it much since he'd gained a sense of independence with taking charge of such a simple personal act as hygiene. Lucy had once told him of pipes and faucets that brought running water into the household with the turn of a handle and that people enjoyed baths everyday in England! And the Pevensies thought Narnia was magic! If the Kings and Queens of Old could manage, even without their strange sorcery, so could he.


He gathered his toiletries; a scratchy rag, a soft lye, and linen towel, and made his way down winding corridors to the spring. Most of the army slept, save the night sentries, and Caspian moved like a shadow. Perhaps he would even be able to indulge in some long overdue self-pleasure where he wouldn't have to stifle his moans so much.


But upon reaching the entry to the cavernous springs...apparently someone else had had something similar in mind. Soft moans were echoing faintly off the vaulted stones and Caspian couldn't help the burning curiosity. He was a gentleman and should respect the mysterious couple's privacy. There were plenty of married or courting couples in the camp and it could be any number of them. I should just leave, he thought. But a small thought at the back of his mind whispered, but what if it's them.... He'd just take a quick peek to be sure and then promptly leave.


He clung to the shadows and hugged the jagged wall as he peered around the obscuring boulders.


He wasn't disappointed.


Peter and Edmund were alone in the water and very much engaged in...tending to each other. Edmund was pressed against a smooth part of the stone wall, close to the trickling waterfall, hair wetly smattered against his forehead and pretty mouth agape and panting. One pale leg was hooked over Peter's jutting hipbone as his sculpted backside flexed with his torturously slow thrusts. The water and steam hid the majority of their connection, but Caspian could see and hear enough to send him over the edge.


Caspian had seen glimpses of their skin before when they'd needed to hastily change into armor, or earlier in the campaign, when there was no privacy to be found bathing in a river with an entire army. But to witness the throes of their passion made manifest was an entirely different thing. He hardened instantly, his erection straining painfully against his leggings.


He had resolved earlier to leave, but now that his greedy eyes beheld the sight he'd long been aching for...he found he could do nothing but succumb to temptation. Their polarity juxtaposed and complimented each other's beauty so well. They were made all the more alluring by the contrast of the other...and Caspian wanted them both.


It was this desire that the White Witch had preyed upon not weeks ago. That she would turn these brothers’ desires towards him, and deliver their affections on a silver platter...if only Caspian would set her free. Conjured images of their limbs entwined with his had floated through his mind. Caspian had been equal parts ashamed and grateful Edmund hadn’t been so affected. But...he often wondered what had given Peter so much pause.


Caspian palmed his cock through his breeches, already twitching and leaking from such arousal as he watched the brothers make love. All without sacrificing anything to an evil witch. He lied to himself that he could be content with this...this, and nothing more.


Edmund's breath hitched whenever Peter sank deeply inside him, his dark brows furrowed in painful-looking pleasure, wanton moans escaping through clenched teeth. Peter was no better. The High King was panting, mouth slack, biting his bottom lip occasionally - presumably as his brother's tightness squeezed him. He braced one hand on the wall, fingers splayed, the other lifting Edmund's thigh higher. Peter was moaning too, not even trying to conceal it. He leaned down to Edmund's shoulder and licked a stripe up his pale neck, trailing nipping bites in its wake. Edmund whined and sunk his blunt nails into Peter's shoulder blades, leaving perfect red crescents. This seemed to goad Peter on as the blond growled, hips stuttering, taking his brother rougher than before.


Caspian freed his weeping arousal lest he dirty another good pair of pants, stroking in time with Peter's fierce thrusts. Caspian had to bite his tongue on a moan as he drank in the site of the two kings, glistening taut bodies and unguarded faces, enraptured with each other.


Peter hiked Edmund a bit higher up the wall and out of the water for a better angle, exposing the pink hole sucking his well-endowed brother in to the hilt, and Caspian dropped to his knees at the intimate sight. The prince shuddered, entranced, watching the sight blurring wink in and out of view with Peter's movements. Edmund seemed to approve as he couldn't contain his noises anymore. "That's it, Ed. Just let it out," Peter hummed into the din. "No one can hear these pretty sounds but me, love. They're all for don't hold back. Ah...who knows when we'll get the next chance." The water sloshed around their hips as the Magnificent King pounded the Just harder. "Oh, fuck, you're so tight on me, Ed. It's been far too long," Peter all but whined, panting.


"You talk too much," Edmund complained without any real accusation, smirking darkly. Peter bottomed out in retribution just to see Edmund choke on a moan and his eyes roll back.


"That's your fault, too. You make me lose myself. Fuck...I can't keep a cool head when it comes to you." He touched his forehead to Edmund’s, smiling.


"That's because you're thinking with your little head, dear husband," Edmund teased, pecking Peter's cheek sweetly before capturing his lips to silence further banter. Peter easily dominated the kiss and Edmund let him, opening his mouth to let Peter explore and have his way. They broke apart gasping, sharing heated breath, eyes lidded and ablaze with want.


Peter hiked Edmund's other leg over his hip so he was fully supporting his brother's weight. Edmund undulated as best he could in the confined position, locking his ankles at Peter back. Peter's biceps strained with the action, his back muscles jumping as he bounced his husband up and down his turgid appendage, his face buried in his brother's neck.


He must have been hitting the perfect spot inside his lover because Edmund began chanting, "Yesyesyesyes," like a prayer. Their motions sped up and so did Caspian's, edging closer and closer to release. Desperate noises spilled from their lips, Edmund's high and mewling, Peter's gritted and stuttering. "Pete...ah, no...don't come inside me," Edmund bit out between keening whimpers, but it seemed his warning came too late.


Peter's hips jerked as he slammed his released into his brother, groaning loud, brows furrowed. "Fuck, Ed....Oh fuck, I'm so sorry. It's just been so long and you're so fucking tight and beautiful." He pulled out his slick cock, still hard but slowly flagging down to half mast. He lowered Edmund back into the water and flipped him around before the brunette could process the move. The blond pulled the smaller man's ass into his groin and reached around to fist his unspent cock.


Edmund whined at the sensations. "It's just...the timing's not right and-"


"Ed, this time is all we have. We're alive...and we're here. Let's make the best of it." Peter sucked on his brother's earlobe as he stroked him, grinding his waning cock into Edmund's ass, chest flush with the brunette's back. This seemed sufficiently distracting as Edmund closed his eyes and bit his reddened bottom lip. "Come for me, baby brother. Come in your husband's hand."


Caspian lost it at Peter's naughty encouragement, spilling his seed in thick ropes onto the ground, shuddering from the force of his excitement. Edmund had apparently felt the same, drily sobbing with the relief and pleasure as his seed clouded the water in white tendrils.



The coronation, the night before....


The Narnians sure knew how to throw a festive celebration! Wine and sweet mead seamed to flow like water, and dryads made sure no cup ran dry. The dwarves had prepared a sumptuous feast to feed an army twice over. Sprites tended sparkling candles and fires, casting all in a happy yellow hue. Satyrs and faun's played their flutes and strings while minotaurs banged the drums, weaving a hypnotic tune. Nymphs and elves pulled everyone to the floor and spun an enticing, intertwining dance. Onlookers cheered and clapped and sung and Caspian had never seen so many smiles in one place. The Telmarine halls of Caspian's forefathers had surely never seen the likes of such joyous merriment.


Caspian let Lucy and Susan rescue him from the simpering Telmarine noblemen already trying to garner his favor, allowing the girls to spin him around the dance floor. Even though he was fit and battle-hardened, he was quickly out of breath. Lucy seemed to have energy in spades. 


Caspian plopped back into his seat to nurse his mead, which was deceptively mild and sweet enough that he'd lost count of how many cups he'd consumed. Everything felt pleasantly tingly and buzzing, languid and hazy. He decided he'd probably over imbibed and switched to water so he wouldn't make a fool of himself.


He canvassed the room, smiling at his subjects and his companions. Lucy and Susan had never looked so light, twirling about the floor in complicated patterns with partners aplenty. Peter, who was laughing with a centaur and a Telmarine, had never appeared so carefree and open, allowing the smile to easily reach his eyes. Caspian's heart clenched as the golden light bounced off the High King's gilded hair and tan skin. His eyes immediately sought out Edmund next, silvery in contrast to his brother's gold, the second source of his heart's affection.


The dark beauty was sitting only a few chairs away upon the dais, clutching his stomach and looking a little green. Caspian recognized the symptoms of over-drinking and he rose to help the smaller king. "Hey, Ed, c'mon, let's get you some air," Caspian tried not to slur, motioning the youth to follow. Edmund complied, hand going to his mouth, eyebrows drawn in concentration.


Caspian led the raven-haired king out to a side balcony. The evening air was cool and blew across Edmund's pale skin, covered in a faint sheen of sweat. He drew in a long inhale through his nose and seemed to calm. Caspian rubbed his back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "You gonna be alright, Ed?" He asked, the alcohol loosening his tongue and the nickname he so rarely used tumbling out casually. It seemed like an unspoken rule that only the Pevensies were allowed to shorten each others' names, but Caspian liked the way it rolled off his accent. It made him feel closer to the king in this moment. Edmund nodded, the color returning to his face, his hand rubbing his upset stomach. "Too much wine?"


"Must be it," muttered Edmund absently, leaning into Caspian's comforting strokes, though Caspian hadn't seen him partake in any alcohol that night.


"Want me to get you some water?" Worry plastered the Telmarine's face.


Edmund looked up at him shyly from under feathery lashes and shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I have some here." He raised the gold goblet in his hand as proof and gave a little smile. Caspian hadn't noticed the cup in his foggy concern. "Thanks, Caspian."


"Of course. You know I care about you," the new king's chocolate eyes softened. "I don't think I've ever told you how much your kindness and wisdom has meant to me over the years. I'm truly thankful for you and your brother, Ed." Caspian's accent was thick from the mead and emotion.


"What about Susan and Lucy?" Edmund smirked.


"Them, too. and've been there for me in ways that I cannot...I just...I can't begin to put into words. You're more than comrades-in-arms to me...more than mere friends...." He stumbled over his thoughts, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat at his near confession.


There was a pause where they could hear the merriment from within spilling outside to cast a hypnotic enchantment on their moment, and the new king realized he should probably stop touching Edmund, but his hand seemed to have other ideas. Caspian dazedly watched his hand, apparently a separate entity from his brain, running his fingers lightly down the Just King's shoulder blades, to the small of his back, and up again - no longer the blunt comforting touch it had been.


He wondered if he'd imagined Edmund's shudder. His eyes trailed along Edmund's form in open appraisal, with heat behind his lidded gaze, noting the slender planes underneath the fancy fabrics, and the soft lines of Edmund's neck and jaw...the flecks of gold in his caramel eyes, and the fullness of his glossy bottom lip. Such a pretty coral lip that begged to be sucked and ravished. Such bewitching heat radiating off of the smaller body. When had he leaned in close enough to notice this? When had his treacherous hand found its way into sinfully silky ink tufts, pulling the elfin face closer?


A pink blush dusted over Edmund's cheeks and he gently turned away, murmuring, "Caspian...I think the mead has gone to your head a bit."


Caspian jerked back as if scalded, an icy dread settling in his stomach. What had he been about to do? Had the alcohol made him forget himself to the point that he'd been about to kiss a married man? That he had taken liberties in touching what was not his? "F-forgive me, my king, I...I don't know what came over me. Please excuse me." He bowed curtly, full of formality to cover his embarrassment.


Caspian turned to leave and, to his horror, he saw Peter leaning against the archway. Caspian didn't know how much the Old King had seen or heard, but he couldn't escape fast enough, and Peter let him by without incident or word.


The hall filled with revelers was a blur of motion as he passed through unnoticed, heading to the sanctity of his chambers...unaware that Peter was hot on his heels.



The corridors leading to his private chambers were empty and dark. The lights had not been lit yet as all the servants were tending to guests. Only the crescent moon cast its rectangles of pale light through the windows. It became quiet the further away he went from the festivities held in his honor.


Once he was sure he was far enough away that no one could witness his panic, he leaned against the wall, sliding down the stone, knees bent in front of his chest. He clutched his head, waves of dizziness wracking his body. What had he done? Had it been obvious he'd been leaning in for a kiss, mesmerized by Edmund's lovely mouth?


Of course it had! I had my hand tangled in his hair for Aslan's sake! I was pulling him to me! I only hope he's had more to drink than I and dismisses it.... But Peter...Peter saw. He must have seen. Oh, what will he think of me? If there was any hope for something between us all, it is surely gone now!




Caspian's head snapped up, finding, to his utter terror, Peter standing in front of him, chest heaving and red coloring his cheeks. He leaned down and grabbed Caspian's shirt front, hoisting him up to stand, shoving him into the cold stone wall.


"What happened, Caspian?" Peter's tone was ice and commanded authority.


Caspian braced his hands against Peter's chest, hoping to deflect a violent outburst. It wouldn't be the first time they'd come to blows, but never since they'd become friends. "I'm so sorry, Peter. I don't know what came over me. Edmund...I-"


"How much have you had to drink? I can smell the sweet fairy mead on your breath." Caspian was confused by the sudden question and wondered why Peter hadn't hit him yet.


"I...I don't know. Someone kept refilling it. Peter, I-"


"Be careful of Narnian liquors; they drive Men to do...irrational things." It must have been a trick of the light, or maybe just his own fantasies, but Caspian swore he saw Peter's eyes flicker to his lips heatedly...and he wondered briefly how much Peter had had to drink.


"I...I was just telling Edmund how thankful I am for all your help and support...if it hadn't been for you...," Caspian gulped, feeling the same enchanting pull, the same raging fire that filled his chest whenever Peter was around. His heart pounded with adrenaline against Peter's hand. Peter had grown so much and he was almost on par with Caspian...maybe an inch shorter. And it was all too easy now to meet his eyes. Peter was just as lovely as his brother, though in a sharper way. His sunshine skin that contrasted so beautifully with his stormy eyes, turbulent oceans that Caspian would gladly drown in.


Caspian hadn't known his hands had gripped Peter's shirt firmly in his clutches, pulling the blond closer until there was no space separating the line of their bodies. The way it should be, Caspian thought. Peter hadn't made a move to fight it, seeming almost as dazed as the Telmarine. They were both barely breathing, lest it break the spell, eyes locked together in some kind of contest.


Peter whetted his lips in what looked like a nervous motion and Caspian's eyes were drawn to that pink tongue with sweltering focus. "Killing or kissing...isn't that what Edmund always said...when he'd lock us in that tiny room?" Caspian heard his voice purr without his permission. But he swore he saw an echo of heat in the stormy eyes before him. "Can I show you which I'd rather prefer?"


As if time had slowed to increments, Caspian tilted his face...and Peter's lips parted just so, leaning the barest hint closer towards the Telmarine king. They shared a few breaths, noses brushing and nuzzling slightly. A sharp breath would have connected their lips....


That is, until the spell was broken by one of the guards.


"Sorry for the intrusion, your Majesties," grunted a satyr. The two kings practically leapt apart like startled tomcats. "High Queen Susan is requesting your presence, High King Peter." Message delivered, the guard trotted off, seemingly unaffected.


Peter and Caspian looked each other up and down for long moments, panting heavily, the heat barely diminished and sparking through the air like dry thunder preceding a storm. Peter broke the silence first. "You should sleep it off, Caspian. We'll speak later. Fairy wine can turn a Man...carnal with need." Caspian knew without a shadow of doubt that Peter was not so unaffected...and that he may just in fact be speaking about himself. The High King's face was composed, but his cerulean eyes blazed with yearning fire, their depths haunting Caspian with the kiss that almost was.


To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Story Recap: Caspian had fortuitously witnessed several intimate moments between the brothers throughout the years, and on the eve of his coronation, he'd drunkenly instigated a few "almosts" that haunted him. But now he stood at the precipice, awaiting the answer that would change his life.


Dedication: lethargiccayla, free_ghost_hugs_for_all_good_bois, Super-Kätzchen, and SnowFlakeWrites for all your enthusiasm and comments!


Winds of Change

By Noelle Scribe

Change of Heart

Present day...


"High King Peter Pevensie, will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?"


The crowd gasped again, excited whispers circling, people shushing each other to hear the High King's reply. Peter was awestruck to say the least; butterflies filled his stomach, his mouth parted in a silent gasp, his eyes wide as saucers. Was he dreaming? He must have been silent a few moments too long, because he felt Edmund, his husband, pinch him, whispering heatedly, "Say something!"


"I...I...I'm already married, Caspian.... I...I don't know what to say." It was the first time Peter had ever seemed unsure in front of Caspian, or his subjects for that matter, feeling for all his years like the young man he appeared to be.


Caspian smirked, briefly confident, shifting his weight on his hips. Caspian motioned to Edmund to join them, extending one of his hands to take the brunette's. Peter certainly hadn't expected a marriage proposal and he wasn't sure what his impulsive friend would do next. All Peter could do was watch passively, enraptured.


Peter barely suppressed the shiver as Caspian's voice lowered deeply, bordering on sultry, "King Edmund Pevensie, would you do me the same courtesy? Along with your husband, of course." He flashed the shorter youth a perfect smile and Peter could tell his brother was similarly struck speechless at its brilliance. The crowd was gaping and whispering while the others on the dais silently watched this momentous act transpire with baited breath.


"I-Is that even allowed?" asked Edmund incredulously, looking to Aslan, who remained resolutely mute as he watched the events unfold.


"It is if you happen to be a king...such as we three," Caspian dared any naysayers to voice a foul word with this statement. When none did, a small teasing grin alighted his handsome face, squeezing the kings' hands. Peter looked to Edmund meaningfully, trying to gauge his thoughts.


"I...I think I need to have a word with my husband first," Peter whispered, giving away no emotion. Peter's stomach had seemed to drop out from under him, his heart racing, the crowd's eyes and whispers boring into him.


Caspian nodded, "Yes, of course," and he politely stepped away a few paces. If he was effected by the onlookers, then he didn't outwardly show it. The Telmarine stood taller for it, arms clasped behind him, exuding confidence. It was his tell, his emotional armor. Peter knew Caspian well enough to know when a maelstrom was raging inside the handsome monarch. Susan and Lucy moved to stand beside Aslan to give their brothers privacy.



The brothers leaned in close so they could not be overheard, hands seeking comfort and support from one another. Peter snuck a glance at the handsome Telmarine and his heart swelled into his throat, a raw emotion stealing over him. "Aslan told us earlier this would be my last time in Narnia. He told me an offer would be made, and that I had a choice that would shape Narnian history, but I thought...I thought He meant it was time for us to leave and let Caspian reign. Maybe He was talking about this instead? What do you think, Ed? Could you live with something like this?" he whispered, voice shaky, his guard only ever lowered in front of his spouse.


Edmund huffed a little in exasperation. "You know Aslan speaks in riddles. I wouldn't be surprised if He meant for you to live a second life here before returning," rationalized the Just King. "And...Honestly, I...I've noticed the way Caspian looks at us. At you especially. And I've seen the way you look at him. I think he's had these feelings for a long time. I'm actually surprised he's waited this long to propose." Peter chuckled - trusting Edmund to know exactly what to say to calm his nerves. Edmund bit his bottom lip, meeting his brother's stormy eyes, measuring his next words carefully - ever the diplomat. "I've felt a growing fondness between us...all three of us...over the years. I can't deny that I...may have entertained...thoughts." The brunette blushed prettily. "What do you think?" He worried his bottom lip in his teeth.


Peter pondered, momentarily distracted by the urge to kiss that abused bottom lip, mindful of the crowd's suspense. "Caspian is kind and good and handsome-"


"More than handsome," Edmund quirked an eyebrow, accompanied by a smirk. "I've seen you ogle him more than you'd like to admit." Peter was about to protest, but his brother held up a hand to smother the outburst. "I'm not accusing and I'm not jealous. I've done my fair share of ogling him, too." Peter deflated at his husband's easy reassurance. "He's kind, good, gorgeous. Yes, I agree that Caspian is all those things...what else, dear husband?" The title was a tease and Peter ventured a grin.


"If you've entertained thoughts...then so have I. Many...many thoughts. There were moments when I was sure we...when he and I might.... I don't know." He shook his head, brows furrowed. "I’d never do anything behind your back, Ed. But...I can't deny that one of my greatest fantasies has been...t-to share you with him," Peter blushed, a rare thing for him to do - which spoke volumes about his discomfort. But he trudged on courageously for the sake of his husband. "I can't deny that...over the years...I've developed...feelings for him. He's intelligent, idealistic, you in many ways. I...I felt guilty. That's why I never shared this with you, Ed. I'm sorry." Worry creased the High King's features.


"Ya know, Pete, one of the reasons I love Narnia is that it is so free here," the brunette shook his head like the notion was obvious, rolling his smiling eyes at his brother. "They accepted our rule, our brotherly love, our marriage, our children. And maybe you weren't paying attention before, or maybe you just hated cracking open a book, but group marriage is also a Narnian tradition. Mr. Beaver ended up having two wives. Trufflehunter had a husband and a wife before they passed. It is not uncommon for centaurs to have large marital groups." Peter could see Edmund's tactician gears turning as his hand flitted over his stomach, pulling on the brocade hemline. "What better way to unite the Telmarines and the Narnians than with an old tradition by being the examples of love and acceptance."


"But...what if one of us gets jealous, or spends more time with the other? What if the Telmarines don't accept it and decide to uprise again? It's not like multiple marriage was part of their culture. Could you live with this? With two husbands?"


"Peter, I'm sure we'll have a lot of help from those who are in similar relationships. And I'm sure we'll figure it out as we go along. That's what talking is for," he chided. "And I'm sure the Telmarines will enjoy Caspian's progressive rule better than their last oppressor. I see no reason why they'd oppose him in this, since it means they'll enjoy the same liberty." Edmund shifted his weight on his feet, absentmindedly carding fingers through his luscious hair. "I know your bond with Caspian is stronger than mine is with him, but I don't doubt he and I could easily fall for each other just as deeply in time.... Look at him." They turned to Caspian, standing stoically and patiently, appraising the leader with a burning gaze they normally reserved for each other. "How brave he is. He's risking so much. He said he'd wanted to do this differently. He's been thinking about it for some time." They turned back to each other when Edmund sighed. "I don't want to go home, Peter," he smoothed the fabric over his flat stomach, a nervous habit. "Not yet. Not for a long time."


"Okay." Peter leaned down to place a sweet kiss upon Edmund's forehead, to the shock of all watching since the kings were renowned for their restraint. They clasped their hands together, presenting a united front, striding over to Caspian with their answer.


Caspian held his chin high, voice low enough to reach only Peter and Edmund. “Before you say anything, I would like to remind you I would have liked this to be a much different setting and time, but the circumstances.... I don't think I could bear to see you go, never to return." His accent thickened as he bordered on rambling. "Would it not be beneficial for a king to marry other monarchs, especially those with more experience? Would it not be beneficial to have your knowledge and skill to heal and rebuild this broken land that you once loved?” reasoned Caspian, appealing to rationality and taking an unconscious step closer towards the two kings. He turned to Peter, passion filling his voice. “Would it not be beneficial to be able to provide the best for your brother-husband? Would it not be beneficial, King Edmund,” Caspian’s accent became slightly thicker, revealing his desperation as he appealed to emotion, “to live here, in Narnia, where your brotherly love, as well as your marriage, is accepted?”


There was a pregnant pause and silence reigned as the crowd strained to hear their whispers.


Caspian obviously must have thought he was about to be rejected if he felt the need to convince - not knowing the kings' favorable decision. However sincere Caspian appeared, Peter had to be sure this proposal was born of genuine feeling and not fear. The young Telmarine king had expressed reservations earlier about ascending the throne and had been quite ready to hand all authority to the Pevensies had Aslan not acknowledged him after the battle; indeed, even Caspian had just noted that it would behoove him to marry someone with leadership experience. If this marriage proposal stemmed from his insecurities about ruling – if he was scared and wanted someone else to carry his responsibilities – then those issues had to be resolved here and now. “Caspian, if you’ve any doubt about your ability as a leader–,” Peter began quietly and earnestly before Caspian interrupted him.


“I ask you to stay not only for the greater good of Narnia,” Caspian’s voice was firm now with determination as he knelt before Peter and Edmund, taking their hands and continuing in a deep voice that only reached the brothers’ ears, “but for my own...selfish...reasons.” He looked up at them pointedly – one might even say suggestively – through sable lashes that did little to conceal the fire in his black eyes. The look was gone in an instant like the breeze through the trees in the courtyard. “High King Peter, King Edmund, I know my timing seems sudden, I certainly hadn’t planned on you announcing your departure, but…I have been considering this proposal for some time now. Even before the battle, many a night I would think–,” he cut himself off before he finished the sentence, perhaps revealing more than he'd been ready to. Something raw, trembling, and genuine saturated his voice, something that made Peter’s eyes soften for the brief moment it took for Caspian to school his features. “Please consider my proposal for I ask in all sincerity. Please don’t dismiss…my feelings.”


Caspian gazed at the two Kings of Old with such open intensity that it was hard to meet his gleaming charcoal orbs, trying to convey what he really yearned to say. The Telmarine bowed his head like a man to the slaughter, seemingly now realizing that the crowd of stunned onlookers were still staring with rapt attention, their curious gaze weighing down on his shoulders and his spirits.


The dark beauty turned back to Peter’s unreadable face with pleading, resigned eyes. Peter's heart broke for a second, watching his friend, his love, struggle, and he was about to open his mouth to assuage him before Caspian seemed to plunder on, “Please, forgive–”


“Stand up, Caspian,” whispered Edmund gently, a hidden, knowing smile crinkling the corners of his warm caramel eyes. Peter could feel the smile in his brother’s voice, borne from years of familiarity.


A blush stole across Caspian's high cheekbones as he began to rise awkwardly, dejected. “My kings, I apologize for my impertine-,"


“Oh, goodness!" Peter exclaimed, good-naturedly exasperated. "We accept, you silly prat! Now get your arse off the floor!” Peter’s loud, ever-so-eloquent exclamation echoed through the courtyard and it took a full minute before the news registered.


Raucous cheers erupted from the onlookers, but Caspian was still stunned into silence. Peter rolled his eyes and placed a chaste kiss upon the Telmarine's lips, noting that they were indeed as soft as he'd dreamed. It took a moment for the shock to subside, but Caspian returned the gesture enthusiastically, cupping Peter's cheek to hold him to his mouth, as if he would fade away. Peter fought to restrain the scorching lust crashing over him, seeing it reflected in Caspian's smoldering eyes, promising sensual wanton things in private.


The crowd continued to cheer when Edmund lifted up on his toes to place his own sweet kiss, sealing the deal as Caspian snaked his hand into the brunette's hair, pulling him closer. It seemed Caspian couldn't help the gesture much like the moth tries to resist the flame. Even though the scene was brief enough to be considered courtly, Peter felt himself harden in his breeches watching the two dark-haired beauties, and he was thankful his vestments hid his hips. If that was all it took to awaken his raging lust, he knew the two might just be the exquisite death of him. He'd relish every second.


As the crowd cheered, the three kings' smiles seemed too little a gesture to fully contain all the joy bubbling inside them.


It seemed another celebration was in order.



To Be Continued.


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