A Few Self-Indulgent Scenes with Edmund

[illicitresearch]

Who: Zexion & Edmund Pevensie
Where/When: City of Ariel (Pre-Reboot), A Fussy "Prudish" Tearoom on a Chilly Late Afternoon
Warnings: Foodporn, Footsie, All that underaged sex good stuff that comes from a heavily aphro'd game context.


The end of Zexion's nose was still a fierce shade of pink by the time he finally shed his outer layers and unwound his scarf, and it still felt colder than the rest of his face, prompting the habitual rubbing between service as the tea parlous maids bustled about, shooting disapproving looks and tutting and gaping in wide-eyed disapproval at couples fondling each other beneath the twee tables as if that were actually a scandalous offense.

It was all tongue-in-cheek play, of course, and that in itself was marvelous people-watching entertainment, if not for the spoils of his own present company. Upon Edmund's arrival, he held up his own shrunken cup from its saucer with sly guilt playing at the corners of his mouth, along with a rich brown smear that he licked away with far less sublety than was proper, shrugging.

"I know, I know, skipping tea for drinking chocolate's a right punishable offense by your sensibilities,"  He surrendered, easing his shoulderblades back against the parlour chair and setting his cup back down. "But alas, it tempted me, I simply couldn't help myself."

The array of sweets seemed unfairly delectable today too, three tiers of crispy, fudgey and chewy, ganache truffles oozing caramel and delicately half-dipped rolled wafers, rich two-bite black forest cakes and other attractive morsels rolled in crushed nuts and candied peel.

Comments

[just_edmund]

It was hardly a defense at all, and Edmund chuckled under his breath. "Maybe not written ones. I can hardly imagine you even at a tender age not taking a mental catalogue of everything you try." The glimpses he'd gotten of that youngster always endeared him, intrigued his imagination about who Zexion would be now if that boy had grown up with a heart, with parents who'd cared for him, with everything he'd deserved in life.

He studied him now, the still-slight figure retreating into his folds of fabric, and grew thoughtful as Zexion's uncharacteristic lack of words grew more evident. In groping came a refreshing frankness, something uncalculated and fundamental. A fumbling at sentiment. Zexion didn't like it. Edmund tugged in contemplation at his lower lip. He did like it, clumsy and graceless as it was; maybe he liked it because of that. He bumped at Zexion's foot beneath the table.

"I don't need words from you, you know. Your time and company and friendship make life more normal for me here. That...means a great deal."

It was important for Zexion to realize just what sort of presence he represented for Edmund. A sentimental declaration could be found elsewhere; a chum he trusted with secrets both dark and light, with habits that were small but important, and with grounding rituals of his life, was a rare and precious thing. And it was important for Zexion to recognize the progress he'd made in even wanting to express his feelings. It warmed Edmund from the inside. If they were at home, he would have easily swept Zexion into his arms in a return of affection that even he could not always easily voice. Such a pity they were in a place that spoke to every custom of reserve he'd ever grown up with.

His smile is full of embrace. "Any respectable heart should take care with a King who's tasted Maenad lips." His ankle rubs a nesting place next to the other's; comfortable, congenial, unassuming. "I've tasted things no respectable man should. Witch's candy. Gods' wine. Wild, inhuman bodies. I can put on a proper face when I need to, but that's hardly the real Edmund. Perhaps living in this city has simply let more of him exist." He does not explicitly say it, but there it is: perhaps more of the real Zexion has emerged here too.

Edmund's dark eyes softened with glints of humour. "But let me know if you plan on swooning any time soon, and I shall throw down the softest truffles to break your fall."

[illicitresearch]

That little nudge against his toe was met with an almost too-eager return, desperate for the kind of expression that has no place at the table. It's the part of Zexion's physicality that's like a leaning housecat abruptly interested in attention, an eely instep wriggling underfoot, pressing beneath the sole of Edmund's shoe and riding up, bandying about his ankle.

Oh, so you're here with him? He intends to take full advantage of that.

Although Zexion is still too private and too proud to blush over being told all the ways they share significance with each other, he does need to shut his eyes a moment, hiding a bit of himself behind their lids, dipping his chin with a secretive smile to show he's heard.

The real Edmund Pevensie? On a day less bone cold out, he'd want to haul his friend out on a lawn somewhere to lie beneath the stars to thoroughly examine exactly what he means by that, the truest self. Does having a gift to read the heart and measure the quality of its darkness make it any easier to find reflection, authenticity? In any case, it's something else even more appreciable and priceless than the midafternoon spread between then.

It's interesting, to try and imagine Edmund as the grown ruler he'd become in the paradise of Narnian fields and glens. It would be hard to think any higher of him in that place, that time, than he does right now.

"I like him best this way." Zexion decides quietly yet utterly resolute, another cautious endearment slinking out into the light. "Guess I'll keep taking my chances, with the longest taste of you I can bear."

It isn't entirely meant to bring to mind the patient pace of languid kisses, but if their minds should mutually dip there, Zexion doesn't make haste to brush it away, letting the poignant silence simmer between them and grow a little frustrated for the repression game they'd signed themselves up for. In any other cafe in town, it would be perfectly right to gather a tea date up in one's lap and sink into each other in plain view of other patrons.

"Such a gent," he laughs, relaxing himself at last. "And here I was expecting feather down."

[just_edmund]

Edmund looked highly amused as he bandied about with the housepet twine of Zexion's ankle beneath the table. Such a pity about the weather and the choice of tea establishment. This gentle footsie game was just about as much as they could reasonably manage here, without truly pushing their luck. How nice it would be, though, to slip into Zexion's lap and have a few of those chunky wraps tucked about him and pet his fingers down the arching length of neck and spine while his arse made discreet inroads over spread thighs.

That, regretfully, was a pleasure that would have to wait for the trolley.

Quiet dimples welled in his cheeks and he tipped his head to look thoughtfully at the flow of fondness from Zexion's lips. "I can make do with little sips and nibbles," he quipped, sampling the hot mug of cocoa again. Temptation to abandon the warm restaurant and its cozy delights to brave the bitter cold outside grew far dimmer. His thoughts did indeed stray to the soft, brief kisses he'd shared with his companion, his oldest in Ariel, the bedmate he'd kissed perhaps the least, out of consideration for Zexion's feelings on the matter. That mouth was made for kissing, if Zexion could only see it as innocent a luxury as savouring a rich dessert.

"Feather down is later," he scolded, chuckling. "Those are lewd words here! One could get horizontal, and then things might happen." Naps, kisses, books, who knew what perversions might await them on a soft mattress.

"Ah, but there is quite a good view of the night sky from the north alcove down that hallway..." Edmund sipped angelically at his chocolate. "Exquisite taste in drapes, too. Real velvet, you'd swear, if it feels anything like it looks."

With a tip of his foot to slide into the inner curve of an ankle above the top of its boot, he nudged a coaxing morse code. Tap, rub, tap a-tap tap. "I might go see what I can of the stars, for a moment." Carefully, he arranged his unused knife and fork in a diagonal, criss-crossing pattern across his plate, trusting such a proper establishment would know the custom, and pushed his chair back. "I will be just a moment, you know..."

He hid a smile as he whisked away, trusting he would not be lingering long by himself behind those curtains.

[illicitresearch]

"Oohp!" Four fingers rose to his lips with the faint exclaimation as Edmund tutted at him, and Zexion sniggered into his hand with such a bounce in his shoulders that it might almost seem he had a case of the hiccups.

"My deepest apologies, I hardly meant to imply any vulgarity!" He replied in feigned sincerity, bowing his head so near to the table that the ends of his bangs nearly brushed the saucer. "(But thank you, nonetheless, for preserving our modesty.)"

But after a moment, it would seem that his bedfellow is already too eager to cast off the chains of chastity, leaning on astronomical curiousities as an excuse- a paper thin one, and it leaves Zexion simpering pained at him in efforts to not heave an exhasperated roll of his eyes.

Lovely as it will be, joining him behind the weighty drapes, an invitation that just barely passes for coy. The schemer's fingertips itch, and his lips smooth together methodically as he takes another small swallow of chocolate, syrupy cream coating his throat all the way down.

"You don't say?" Zexion murmurs politely, watching him rise with dark diversionary delights dancing in his eyes. Edmund, your delivery might be next-to flawless, but your subtlety could stand a little more polish

A slow count of thirty, fourty seconds should be enough discreet waiting time to allow for his company to lay claim to their spot in the alcove, before stretching restlesly and sliding to his feet in one elegant motion, taking a black cherry cordial along for the ride on his tongue.

This was all business as usual for The Pearl, but he was relieved to have Edmund go for it first- Sometimes the curtains would be Already Occupied, and then you had to sort out some other means of loitering or excusing yourself later on- Edmund must have caught the backs of a flushed retreating pair faster than he'd noticed.

Checking this way and that to ensure the matron was bustling about clearing tables, he stepped into the shadows, drawing the thick velvet around him only to find himself standing very close against his friend. Before Edmund could draw him into magnanimous arms, Zexion sets his Lexicon propped open on the window ledge, a thin haze of illusion providing even deeper discretion. It would serve all too nicely by way of masking telltale lumps in the drapes, or concealing the peeking inch or so where their shoes might be spotted.

[just_edmund]

Oh, Edmund was under no pretenses that he was being either subtle or discreet in his flimsy excuse for a clandestine tryst behind the curtains. But he also knew exactly what sort of things might lure Zexion to the hidden corner, and the promise of soft-burred velvet to rub against as hands and mouths wander and stars peek down at their machinations was a very calculated proffer.

A choice trifle or two was whisked into his handkerchief before he wound himself into the blissfully free alcove which seemed almost designed for the purpose. Of course, most had to chance the risk of ankles and limbs being visible below or behind the drapery, but they had magic on their side, if Zexion was so inclined to use it. And there was his companion of the hour...

Edmund flashed an approving grin as he waited for the dark glimmer of the Lexicon to do its work. Ah, there. Now was the time for magnanimous arms. They slid around Zexion with an artless ease, not so much possessive as assured of his right in doing so, much as a King might. He bent his lips to Zexion's ear. "No feather down or truffles here, either, so I suppose I must catch you myself." His hands curled around the friendly swell of hips, almost feminine in the dark to the touch, and tugged them next to his own, a cozy reunion which he snuggled into. "Damn good of you to meet me here, though..."

His breath was sweet on Zexion's neck, lips nibbling at the spot behind his ear, practically begging for permission to make free with his mouth. Edmund was a polite fellow, for all his delusions of devilry, and those murmured confessions so long ago still left a lasting impression of respect for his friend's comfort levels. Maybe it was odd that they could be the most lewd of bedfellows in every other way, yet still were quite chaste when it came to sharing kisses. Tonight, though, perhaps the sweeties and the curious outpouring of affection might give him a better chance than usual of tasting the little-known delights of Zexion's mouth.

[illicitresearch]

"Share a little warmth with me, then." Zexion murmured, voice lush and invitational as the enveloping heavy curtains, even a little demanding as Edmund pulled him close. Watching the stars was all but momentarily forgotten, as he settled into such a comfortable embrace with eyes drooping closed, coaxed tired by an almost immediate content. Edmund's breath smelled of chocolate, and his fingers slid and shifted against his hips, prompting a responsive squeeze and jiggle of his arse, squirming pleasantly up onto tiptoe for a moment only to nestle back down on his heels, leaning in abreast until his shoulder has edged its way around front.

His outer knit was so soft to the touch that it could be considered an obscenity all on its own, in certain ascetic circles, cushioning whatever space managed to linger between them.

"Like that, yes." He breathes, relaxed and dropping his head back as Edmund pecked at that delicate place behind his ear. Rolling his neck around forward a moment later, bones clicking into the right place with a subvocal groan, his bangs drooped off his forehead, revealing the smooth curve of his hidden cheek, the slope of his nose.

A set of footsteps passed behind them, and Zexion waited patiently until they'd left the hall before whispering again, subdued but still coyly reproachful in ways that other lover really lacked the patience for- Ai was a little too clumsy to keep pace at times, and Genesis felt a bit entitled to him, their relationship so far along by now. But he could always banter along with Edmund, glib-tongued and ludic, just distant enough to feel drawn in every time there was a stir of attraction.

"You're going to ply me with heat and tenderness until I'm tempered smooth, hm?" He purred, mildly chiding, voice about as molten-chocolately as he dared. "When you could have had every other amuse-bouche on the table, you want the one thing The Pearl can't serve you?" Inclining his chin just so, turning his head, their noses brushed precariously close, lips feeling a mutual compulsion that Zexion fought to deny for as long as possible, letting his part and hover near enough to moisten Edmind's own, smirk tugging up at one corner.

"Ah, but it would be cruel of me indeed, to deny the singular desires of a worthy friend?" Edmund's heartbeat thundered for a kiss, and Zexion wasn't sure just how much longer he could bear withholding it.

[just_edmund]

"Gladly," Edmund hushed, grinning, body melting into the accommodating litheness of his mate's, intriguing planes of softness and hardness welcoming his own teenage angularity. He was secretly pleased at luring his fastidious chum back to their lurid hidey-hole, for Zexion could conceivably have dismissed the invitation as the height of gauche ham-handedness and simply let him linger in the meeting-place alone and expectant until he was forced to slink back, defeat admitted, tail between his legs to their tea-table of propriety.

Happily, they get to revel in the fruits of their philandering amid the folds of red velvet that swathe their illicit rendezvous, thanks to Zexion's cooperation with the plan. Edmund was more than willing to play along with the appearance of coyness, in pursuit of even more fun with his bandying bedmate. "Mm, yes, just so." He pressed his lips to the exposed curve of cheek, turned as if by magic for the canvassing of his mouth. "Merely another dessert to enjoy...or maybe I enjoy melting you like chocolate under my tongue, lapping at you until you soften and ply for me, spreading liquidy and salty-sweet."
h
Obscene words for the most proper establishment in Ariel... He ghosted across the corner of Zexion's lips. Gods, but he wanted it. "That's how I picture your mouth. Hot, tender, tempered-smooth..." He was tempted, most sorely, his palate whetted by those slow-savoured delectables while Zexion teased at kisses they couldn't have at their buttoned-up dining-place.

"Worthy? I?" He laughed, a soft breathy thing against Zexion's chin. "What have I done to deserve fulfillment of my desires, besides gorge myself on sweeties?" A furtive snuggle to feel the homespun fleece of Zexion's jumper against his own warm woolens, though the crisp cotton beneath it made his own layers less cozy. How lovely it would be to simply drape himself in velvet and knits against the smoothness of Zexion's bare skin, rub and rub until he surfeited in softness...

"Mm, but you're right, the Pearl can't serve me anything near this," and his hand found a palmful of buttock to cup and weigh judiciously, the Just indeed, Zexion's arse never finding lacking in his estimation. He whispered to the shadows of his companion's mouth. "Shall we taste together?" His other hand stole into a pocket, to bring out a slightly squashed but still quite plump bit of Turkish delight, which found its way to the part of Zexion's lips, pressed between them like the softest of phallus-heads.

[illicitresearch]

On a day where he was feeling a bit more cheeky, perhaps, Edmund would be left at the mercy of his playful sense of spite. Sometimes, they took their ritual at The Pearl as a means of escaping the saturation of sexual pursuts in Ariel for a spell, and their time spend behaving themselves coyly over tea was a relief. But while the weather was sapping away at quite enough comfort that deserved rekindling, Zexion sought out easy consolation with an eagerness that rivalled Edmund's own.

It did not take much persuasion, then, to win him over. Just listening to his companion lust over the notion of having his mouth was enough to leave him humming with longing to become just that, so potent and rewarding.

"You're my favorite glutton, so I may have a completely illogical bias." Zexion confesses in a whisper with a sharper smile, nose bumping softly at Edmund's freckles. "It's the way you're so generous with showing when you enjoy something that fills me with solicitous airs, too- All men should know the feeling, more often their lives. Darkness could not overtake hearts as merry and well-satiated as yours, for long."

Their clothing rustles, hands pawing to stir some warming friction up, and by the time Edmund is reaching for his backside Zexion is all but cross-eyed with readiness for the warmth and lazy grip of his palm, kneading at his suppler flesh. A heathy diet of sweets and strong tea with double cream, eggs with runny yolks every morning and fresh butter from Ai's clever churning operations keeps Zexion very nicely padded in ways the yoga practice doesn't quite manage to sweat out, and he honestly suspects that most of his partners prefer him chubby bottomed from sins of sloth and self-satisfaction.

Edmund's fingers proffer one stolen away morsel, and Zexion knows what it is even before the powdered sugar touches his lips. The rosewater and pistachio scent is so delicate, yet entirely unmistakeable, and the squidgy texture, slippery once licked-clean, has always been a mild fascination. No fruit gels are ever quite as fine as a properly done Turkish Delight, fresh and pillowy. He laps at one side, the warm edge of his tongue brushing kittenish against Edmund's fingers, but he doesn't gently suckle until Edmund's lips are meeting his, the wet sweet sliding back and forth between their lips and against their tongues, surprisingly intact and so very slow to dissolve if resisting the urge to nibble and chew. Zexion can let this go on until he's accustomed himself to the feel of his bedfellow's mouth instead.

On a different day, he'd be utterly disgusted by this kind of sharing, but for the moment it's risquee and marvelous, the lewdness of the act only heightened by the way they stay clasped together, rumped clothing still (mostly) in place.

[just_edmund]

In the confidential darkness of their not-so-very-hidden place, Edmund finds himself secreting a laugh in the hollow below Zexion's ear, amused and pleased at such a description of himself and, in turn, that Zexion should espouse such opinions about their friendship. "Kings don't believe in doing things by halves," he quips with a jaunty wriggle of satisfaction. "A friendly ankle simply wasn't up to snuff today. You are being awfully cozy all round, you know."

Approvingly, he spreads a hand over the warmth-swathed solidity of Zexion's flank, rippled with far more limberness than muscle, and tucks the curve of his elbow around his effusive companion's waist. This was a rare mood of Zexion's, not just cuddly but ripe with affection as well as snark. Edmund saw no harm in taking full advantage of it. Just as, indeed, his other hand had no compunction in making free with the generous pleasures of Zexion's arse.

He must leave off further explorations for the moment, though, if he is to properly enjoy the even rarer delights he'd just been soliciting and that now slid against his lips, under his tongue, the softness of the candy mingling with Zexion's lips, the tiny clack of teeth when he tilts in deeper, the slightly obscene slickness that renders the gelatin a slithering, quivering lump of sweetness between them. The explicit act he remembers from the video streams - snowballing - seems suddenly elevated to an entirely new level of epicurean fetish. Passing semen twixt each other's tongues, congealing into a thick glutinous mess, held little appeal after the sugary suppleness of a Turkish delight.

Eyes closed, Edmund murmurs the most hushed of appreciative moans for the sinful treat, doubled by the forbidden depths of Zexion's mouth. The tip of his tongue laps almost shyly, as though unsure of his due, King or no. He's hungry but ah, he won't be a savage and gobble a whole box of goodies all at once. He licks into the corner of Zexion's mouth, where little crystals of sugar cling, snow-like, practically waiting for him to gather them up. His swipes are so delicate, it takes several of them to collect every grain.

The perfume of the rosewater is beginning to make his head swim a little. Sighing, he leans more heavily against Zexion's body, and his legs find a hip to cradle. The closer contact brings the familiar warmth that closeness always brought in the city limits. He's tempted to overthink this - the true limits of his control, if he can't bear to put aside the pleasures of the flesh for even an hour anymore - but this is simply too delicious to talk himself out of. He'll dwell on the particulars of his weak nature later, as long as Zexion doesn't tease him too much about it now.

In fact, talking is impossible for the moment, when he's doing no more than mouth at the disintegrating edges of the sweetmeat, trying not to be the one to take the first real nibble. Instead, he worries his lips teasingly across the pursed bow of Zexion's, cupping once more with lewd abandon at the underside of one cheek. More touches roam up Zexion's back, this time burrowing under layers to traverse the knobby planes of bare skin over spine. Fortunately for Zexion, Edmund's hands are as warm as ever, no shock of cold against the exposed flesh he finds.

[illicitresearch]

In rare form indeed- Zexion wasn't sure what to blame anymore. It was easy enough to flatter his present company, or accuse the cold, or the whims of a ravenous libido aided by every act of Ariel's conditioning. Or perhaps it was a sign of that which Riku had said he was entirely capable of regrowing, given enough time to heal from the woundedness made in darkness, a place secure enough to foster an opening for the light to come in and maybe a little extra nurturing for a heart that had spent too many years atrophied in neglect, denying itself.

If ardor was any part of cause for coziness, then Zexion might just be brimming with it, and intoxicated, having built up no natural tolerance for the effects of a healthy, passion-born flush. With Edmund rubbing at his bottom and dropping frustratingly soft kisses on his mouth, a strange sentiment of playful tenderness between them, it was only a matter of seconds before feeling began to snowball, sentiment overwhelming.

Years now in Ariel, and Zexion still did solicit kisses from many of his partners, mostly because apart from the few he'd practiced with to the point of comfort, he did not know what to do with himself when his head began to spin and his chest began to ache and his lungs began pushing doubletimed gasps through his nose, tension rising through him like tightly coiled hysteria.

When it starts this time, rather than panic, he simply rides it through with Edmund's coaxing and finds himself pushing into his hunger, freezing up for barely a moment before shuddering and shifting his weight, planting a hand past Edmund's shoulders and turning his body against the windowledge, pressing in against him until his shoulderblades are backed against the frosty pane. The hips gripped so covetously in Edmund's clutch begin to throb and sway in need of a proper ride, and in what feels like a very narrow span of time, Zexion is making more of an assertive advance than he intended, lips catching up with clumsier, grasping motions, sticky-wet and just noisy enough to keep him blushing with self-consciousnes for the tiny sounds that meet his burning ears.

What's gotten into him is a fine mess of sudden aggression. He can't seem to will himself to stop, not with the way he's hardening fast and pushing with his weight in no uncertain terms and a spiraling sense of urgency, all of Edmund's clasping and clutching and touching demanding a response. Shoving at the cube of Turkish Delight with his tongue, as if to press it past Edmund's lips and surrender all rights to swallowing it entirely, seems only a diversionary tactic.... because in the next moment his knee lifts, one shoe leaving the floor wholly, to grapple at his companion's flank and pin him against the windowframe. Not only kings, it seems, can find themselves driven to full pursuit.

[just_edmund]

Ariel makes it easy to not scrutinize too hard the fine line between lust, longing, affection, and anything else that might be making their hearts beat faster and their skin flush with bracing warmth. As long as he's got Zexion's undivided attention, that fervent embrace of arms and legs and lips keeping him grounded and wanted, Edmund finds nothing whatsoever lacking in his dear chum's feelings on the matter.

There's the familiar snifffles and fidgets that are surely prelude to a breaking-off, eventually, sooner or later whenever the communion of lips becomes too much for Zexion to bear. And yet, yet...there's Zexion's mouth making even freer with his own, suckling like a greedy babe wholly free of shame, as Edmund's pressed backwards and into the cool solidity of the window pane. He blinks in surprise, and then in a covetous return of grasping caresses, his mouth turned up and parting to better admit Zexion's astonishing display of eagerness for kissing.

There's not even the paltry excuse of a treat to share anymore, once the candy is thrust between his lips and begins to melt entirely into a gooey puddle on his tongue. Their mouths meet simply to meet, mingling unabashedly. Oh...and the knee against his hip crease sends his pulse spiking in delighted rampage, all too happy to interpret the signal of something less fleeting than mere kisses. The half-erection he'd been nursing ever since the wet kittenish touch of Zexion's tongue burgeoned into full-blown stiffness at the promise of some enthusiastic grinding.

He's diverted, all right.

Basking in the furious pursuit seems the only proper thing to do, along with (of course) a very polite and fitting return of solicitous attentions. Edmund drags the shimmying hips against his own and twists slightly so that Zexion's knee is between his thighs, and his own leg is perfectly positioned to nuzzle into the groove of Zexion's where leggings and long outer layers cannot quite hide the tempting bulge-shape beneath. He presses a thigh to the bunched fabric. Let Zexion have some reward for the excitement of being pinned against a window and snogged like they'd just discovered how to.