More (2/06 prompt for [ profile] licenseartistic)

Feb. 22nd, 2006 06:16 pm
betrayer_redeemed: (WTF?!)
[personal profile] betrayer_redeemed
Title / Prompt: 'D'you get scared to feel so much? To let somebody touch you? So hot. So cold. So far out of control. Hard to come by, and harder to hold.' --More, Sisters of Mercy
Character: Edmund Pevensie
Warnings: implied non-con/rape, implied incestual UST
Pairings: Edmund/nameless OMC
Your character's fandom: Narnia
Word count: 414 per MS Word
Rating: If I were using MPAA ratings, this would be R
Disclaimer: Walden Media, Disney, and the Lewis estate aside, C.S.Lewis himself said, "Why not write stories for yourself to fill up the gaps in Narnian history? I've left you plenty of hints -- especially where Lucy and the Unicorn are talking in The Last Battle. I feel I have done all I can!"
Crossposted to [ profile] licenseartistic

Lucy's cordial has cured him of all his hurts, even of the magical compulsion and craving for the Witch's Turkish Delight -- but there are some things, hidden deep, that he refuses to admit are even there, and it can't cure those. Not yet, at least, because he just hasn't been able to let some things go.

And as he sleeps, safe and sound, tucked in his kingly bed of down comforters and soft sheets and plush pillows, he dreams of grasping hands and cruel laughs; of bullies and cowards who think it's sport to play with a boy three years their younger. "Look at Pretty Pevensie -- such a pretty boy! Bet that mouth looks even prettier around my prick!" one of them crows, and Edmund glares hatefully up at him, struggling in the arms of two more of them.

"Aren't you worried he'll bite?" one of his captors asks, and in his sleep he gives a little smirk. Now, he would bite -- now, he knows how to fight, and he just might wish for a chance to confront them with his sword. He'd teach them a thing or two about power...

"No -- he won't bite, will you, Pevensie. You like it too much! Pretty little prick-tease, you want it!"

And he shakes his head and blurts, "I'm not--" before he can stop himself. One of them reaches down and grabs his cock through his shorts and he lets out a yelp, trying to pull away before he can feel like that again. Because he doesn't want this to feel good -- it's wrong, and he doesn't want to like it...

But he can't help himself, his body responding even as he struggles, too young to know control yet and too confused to do anything more than just react to the physical. And in his sleep, he groans and writhes in the bed, his hand straying to his cock because he just needs something more. He wants, and he doesn't dare let anyone know...

When Peter shakes him awake with a softly hissed, "Ed, it's all right, it's just a dream!" he almost says something; holds his brother's arm just an instant too long -- but then nods and lets out a shuddering breath. And then Peter climbs back into his own bed and in moments is fast asleep, but Edmund lies there afraid to move lest he wake him, and finally falls back asleep, unsatisfied and still wanting something.


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Edmund Pevensie

June 2007

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