Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/212522.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Chronicles_of_Narnia_(Movies), Chronicles_of_Narnia_-_C._S._Lewis
  Relationship:
      Caspian/Edmund_Pevensie
  Character:
      Caspian, Edmund_Pevensie, Lucy_Pevensie, Aslan
  Additional Tags:
      Fluff, Slash, Romance, Angst
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-06-16 Words: 16537
****** Out of Nowhere ******
by airandangels
Summary
     King Caspian reappears in Edmund Pevensie's life.
Notes
     This story began as a prompt for a drawing by lamamama on Tumblr. I
     then wrote the first portion thinking of it as a stand-alone story,
     and kept it 'clean,' but eventually fell to the temptation to write
     something explicit, leading to the full story. I actually had to stop
     myself trying to write the rest of their lives.
     This obviously departs from the books' continuity, because it's
     always made me both sad and cross that really, Caspian had a pretty
     awful life, given what happened to his wife and his son, and Edmund
     and his siblings never got to have much of a life at all. Therefore,
     I declare this a parallel universe, in which Pevensies actually get
     to grow up and experience Life and not get shut out of Heaven because
     they like lipstick and nylons. (I'm referring to Susan, here;
     although I've written Edmund as gay I don't think he's quite
     adventurous enough for lipstick and nylons, not at the time of this
     story anyway.)
     I ticked 'Underage' because Edmund is under eighteen, but I am
     thinking of him as about sixteen, since that's roughly how old he
     looks to me in the film version of Dawn Treader - and yes, I am
     imagining them looking like Skandar Keynes and Ben Barnes. So, you
     know, nothing *creepy*.
See the end of the work for more notes
  This work was inspired by
      World_Reversed_Dressing by lamamama
Finchley was grey. Grey sky, grey buildings, grey pavements. Well, there was
some brown too. And some drab, gungy green. Edmund leaned his forehead on the
windowpane and loathed it. He supposed he should be glad he was allowed to mind
the house himself, that he and Lucy weren't required to stay with the Scrubbs
any more (Eustace had got a lot better, but his parents were still pretty
intolerable), but England was always particularly ugly when Narnia was fresh in
your mind. Out in the country it would be different, he supposed. Better. If
the sun shone.
He turned away and walked over to his bed, flopping down on his back. Never
again to see Narnia. Never again to be a king. And long, long years to trudge
through before anyone would see him as a man or trust him with anything more
complicated or important than minding a terraced house. No more Aslan. He had
worked out what he meant about his other name, but that was no comfort. Just
Jesus? The coldness of churches was supposed to take the place of Narnia's sun?
And that was a terrible thought, because he was pretty sure he couldn't expect
to go anywhere near heaven feeling that way. Maybe in time he could be resigned
to it, and that would be good enough. At least he didn't have a problem
believing.
He rolled onto his side and tried to find something to look forward to. Lucy
had gone to the shops and she might find something nice for their tea. ITMA
would be on the wireless tonight. A grilled sausage and the BBC Light
Programme, what fun.
There was a rustling noise from inside the wardrobe. Mice? He thought about
going downstairs and finding a trap, but didn't start to move. He thought about
Reepicheep, and wondered if his little coracle was somehow paddling through
Outer Space. The mad physics master at school, the one who kept a telescope on
the roof under a sort of little hut he'd built, thought people would go to
Outer Space after the war. Perhaps he'd be considered old enough for that, not
that it appealed very much.
Another rustle, and a thump that sounded much too big for a mouse. Not rats! He
jumped down from the bed disgustedly and strode over to the wardrobe. His hand
was on the door when it burst open from inside. He jumped back, not wanting to
be bitten by a mad rat, but not fast enough or far enough, because a man fell
out on top of him. His head bounced off the floor with a clunk and he saw
stars.
And then he saw Caspian.
Caspian, an inch from his nose, dark hair hanging into his face, eyes wide and
startled.
'Ed!' Caspian scrambled up onto his knees. 'I'm sorry. Are you all right?'
'I'm fine. What are you doing here?'
'Well... I.. was trying to return your torch,' Caspian said, holding it up,
giving a helpless little laugh. 'I knew it was ridiculous, but I was thinking
of the old tales, of how Lucy found the way through the back of a wardrobe to
Narnia, and I... I went into the back of my wardrobe and hoped!'
'But if it were as easy as that, we'd have been coming and going all this
time,' Edmund protested, pushing himself up on his elbows. 'You must have done
something else.'
'Perhaps it helped that I was holding an object from your world?' Caspian
suggested. 'It might have... wanted to go home, and pulled me through?' He
clicked the torch's switch. 'It doesn't light up any more.'
'The battery must be flat,' Edmund said. 'I can get a new one.'
'When it wouldn't light,' Caspian said, his face softening, 'I just missed you
so much. I thought you'd know how to mend it. It was the middle of the night,
or I wouldn't have done a babyish thing like getting into a wardrobe and making
wishes.'
'It's all right,' Edmund said, embarrassed. He was suddenly very conscious that
Caspian was still straddling over him, and he scooted backwards and sat up
properly. 'I've missed you too. I miss everyone.'
Caspian jumped to his feet and looked around. 'So - so this is your world?' He
glanced towards the window and asked, almost shyly, 'May I look?'
'Feel free,' Edmund said, getting up and gesturing awkwardly to the outside
world. He was suddenly reminded of a bit in The Story of the Amulet, when the
time-travelling children brought back a woman from England's utopian future to
Victorian times, and she looked out a window and was horrified by how dark and
dirty everything was. He winced in anticipation of Caspian's reaction. He
walked over to the window with his face alight with interest. It didn't exactly
fall when he saw the street outside, but it went still.
'Sorry,' Edmund said. 'It's not beautiful like your world, not around here,
anyway.'
'It's just different,' Caspian said, smiling politely. He leaned forward
keenly. 'But what's that?'
Edmund joined him at the window and had a look. 'It's a bicycle.'
'The man's riding it like a horse, but it isn't alive, is it?'
'No, it's a machine. I've got one too.'
'Really? Can I try?' Caspian asked, sounding eager.
'Of course you can - maybe not in those clothes, though. People might see you.'
Edmund cast about him. 'Some of Peter's stuff's still here. It would probably
fit you. Let's see.' In a few minutes, he had Caspian kitted out with grey
flannel trousers, a grey flannel shirt, and because that was a lot of
unrelieved grey, a bottle-green knitted pullover. Caspian was absolutely
fascinated by the elastic waistband in Peter's underpants.
'It stretches out and snaps back! Stretches out and snaps back! Like a
bowstring!' he said delightedly.
'I made a pretty good catapult with knicker elastic once,' Edmund admitted,
'but Susan boxed my ears because I cut up her knickers. Stop playing with them
and put them on. I'm going to find you some shoes. Peter's are too small but
you might fit Dad's.'
His father's shoes were slightly too big, but wearable with newspaper stuffed
into the toes. Caspian had some difficulty with the sock garters and the
braces, although he continued to be thrilled by their elasticity, twanging the
braces back and forth.
'Put on the pullover before you get cold, you fool,' Edmund said, smiling. He
scrunched it up and tried to tussle it over Caspian's head. There was some
amicable pushing and shoving over that, but they managed to get it on, and the
right way round too.
'Your clothes feel funny,' Caspian said, his cheeks red and his hair mussed. He
shook it back into place and Edmund wished for the ten thousandth time that his
own hair would do that bouncy wavy shiny sort of thing instead of just flopping
around like an idiot.
'I like Narnian clothes a lot better,' he said. 'They're just more
comfortable.'
'You look better in them too,' Caspian said. 'What do you do with this part? Is
it a sash?' He held up a tie.
'Here, let me help you with that.' Edmund turned up Caspian's collar and
wrapped the tie around. He had to concentrate for this because he was doing it
backwards, and muttered the little mnemonic his father had taught him when he
was seven and about to go away to school. 'Rabbit hops over the log, rabbit
crawls under the log, rabbit runs around the log...'
'Ed,' said Caspian gently.
'I've nearly got it. Just hold still.'
'Ed,' he said again, and touched his face. It took Edmund a long, astonished
moment to realise he was being kissed, seriously kissed on the lips, for the
first time in his life. The Golden Age didn't count; that was another life in
another world. Caspian's lips were warm and soft and his beard prickled and
wonderfully and terribly the tip of his tongue was brushing against Edmund's
lower lip. His face felt huge and hot and idiotic, and he realised his eyes
were wide open, not closed like when people kissed in films, so he quickly
closed them and only then realised he shouldn't be letting Caspian kiss him in
the first place, let alone kissing back. His housemaster had warned him about
this when he and Parker had been too chummy.
'I know it's hard to see the harm when you're so young, Pevensie Minor,' he'd
said, 'but believe me, you must put a stop to this sort of thing right now
before it can spoil your life.' He hadn't known what it meant then but he had a
much clearer idea now and knew he had to be very, very careful. Caspian's
tongue slipped between his lips and he lost all common sense and just hung on,
his heart thumping, until the kiss ended naturally.
'You're so lovely,' Caspian breathed. 'I never told you properly.' He ran his
hands down Edmund's arms and took his hands, stroking their palms with his
thumbs.
'What about...' He knew he knew her name but it wouldn't come. 'Whatshername.
The star's daughter.'
'She's beautiful. And clever, and kind, and good... and she'll be a great
queen, and a wonderful mother to princes and princesses. But she's not you.'
His thumbs circled, and Edmund's hands burned, and he ached for another kiss.
'This sort of thing isn't normal,' he said desperately.
'What do you mean? It's perfectly normal. Well. Normal for Telmarines.'
'If it's all that normal, why didn't you do anything like this on the Dawn
Treader?'
'Not enough privacy,' Caspian said, sounding surprised. 'But we're alone here,
aren't we?'
'Yes,' Edmund said, and his voice squeaked embarrassingly. 'Lucy won't be home
for ages... she's going to the shops, and the library, and... and there's
nobody else...'
'This is a strange castle for a king and queen,' Caspian said with a little
smile. He glanced around the narrow room, and asked hesitantly 'Edmund... are
you poor?'
'What? No!' He felt stung. 'We're middle class!'
'I don't know what that is. It doesn't matter to me, though. I love you,
Edmund. King Edmund the Just, king of my heart.' Before Edmund could decide
whether he was really offended or if Caspian was a snob or if he was being a
snob, he kissed him again, deep and soft and warm, dropped his hands and wound
his arms around his waist, pulling him close with a hand on his back. His heart
hammered against his ribs and he was humiliatingly aware that this was an awful
lot like the sort of dream that required you to wash your pyjamas in the
morning.
I don't even know how to kiss, he thought, let alone film-star kisses like
this. He didn't know how to use his tongue like Caspian did, how to do it
without just feeling like he was licking like a dog. He let his head tip back,
even though that made him feel like the girl, and licked anyway, stroking his
tongue against Caspian's and against the roof of his mouth.
Caspian drew back and stroked his hands through Edmund's hair and down to frame
his face. 'I've been writing the most terrible poetry about you. All midnight
hair and peat-pool eyes and raspberry lips... and the little sun-kisses on your
nose.'
'They're freckles,' Edmund said.
'Sun-kisses,' Caspian repeated, and kissed his nose in turn. 'More poetic.
Nothing rhymes with freckles.'
'Speckles.'
'Edmund... I said I love you. I think even in your world, it's customary to say
something back.'
'Oh! I'm sorry... I was all... I was flustered.'
'And still...' Caspian was starting to look hurt.
'I don't - I mean - I wasn't ready, and I didn't think... oh Caspian.'
'If you don't...'
'I think I do.' He felt a great, astonished smile spreading over his face. 'I
really do.' He flung his arms around Caspian's shoulders and kissed him with
all his might, hurting his top lip against his own teeth. He didn't care.
Caspian tightened his arms around him and lifted him off his feet and swung him
around, and when they bumped into the bed and fell onto it with a crash of
springs, he didn't care about that either.
 
===============================================================================
 
Caspian was on top of him, his body warm and strong and heavy, his mouth hot
and quick and wet, and it felt like fighting, like wrestling, which inspired
him to push up and tumble him over, rolling astride him and sitting up, pinning
his shoulders, laughing.
'Got you.'
'I let you,' Caspian said, grinning up at him and grabbing his legs, rubbing
his thighs. 'I could have you on your back again in a moment.'
'Well, that's just because you're bigger and older and stronger and generally -
Caspian, don't touch me there.' Caspian's hand had gone right up his leg and in
between, cupping over the place where his stiff penis made a peak in his
trousers, palming it and rubbing.
'Why not? Doesn't it feel nice? It shouldn't hurt...' It felt impossibly good,
and the pressure of his hand was making it harder than ever.
'You - you just shouldn't - if it goes stiff you should leave it alone and
it'll get better on its own.' He could feel his face flooding with red heat.
'Who told you that? If it goes stiff you should rub it and stroke it until it
feels too good to bear and you come.'
'But that's terribly bad for you.' Edmund was sweating now, but it felt good
and he could not make himself take his hands off Caspian's shoulders and pull
his rubbing hand away, as he should. 'It makes you dull and slow and weak.'
'Edmund! I do it every single day. Am I dull and slow and weak?'
'Nnnhhh...'
'If you don't do it you'll be grumpy and your balls will ache. Don't you know
they're making spunk all the time? If you don't let some out it builds up and
your humours go wrong.'
'That's... that's why some comes out at night while you sleep... that's all
right...'
'If it's all right for it to come out on its own, why would it be bad for you
to help it come out?'
'I don't know,' Edmund whimpered. His balls ached now. He usually tried not to
think too much about them, which was next to impossible, they were so tender
and active, always shrinking up or dropping down or getting kicked or kneed or
punched by bloody Peter.
'Or for me to squeeze some out now?' He squeezed through the cloth.
'Oh... oh...'
'Poor, poor Ed, who's been telling you these silly things?'
'Everyone!' he squeaked.
'That's terrible. You should be able to enjoy your cock. I bet it's beautiful.
May I?' He reached for the top button of Edmund's trousers.
'No. Yes,' Edmund said.
'Which will it be?'
'Yes.' He closed his eyes tight and felt Caspian fumbling with his buttons,
opening his flies, pulling down his underpants. The elastic slipped between
Caspian's fingers and flicked his taut balls. 'Ow!'
'Sorry! Sorry. Oh, but your cock is beautiful. Push your hips out. Show it to
me. Be proud of it, Ed, it's a beauty. Open your eyes and look at it.' There
was a pause, and then Caspian said 'I won't keep rubbing it unless you open
your eyes and look.'
Edmund opened his eyes.
'Got you,' Caspian said smugly.
'Will you do it now?'
'Look at it.'
Edmund looked, seeing the usual shaming sight; a ridiculous long stiff pink
thing with a crimson head, sticking out of a nest of black hair. 'It's just my
willy,' he mumbled.
'Little boys have willies. Men have cocks. Or dicks or pricks, but I like cock
best.' Caspian gave him an encouraging smile and rubbed it between his thumb
and forefinger. 'Look how pretty it is. Look how the skin moves back and forth
- the skin is so soft and fine but the flesh inside is so hard. Look how the
head shines.'
'Oh... oh...' He was shivering, humiliated when something clear leaked from the
tip. He couldn't be wetting himself.
'You're getting really close. This is... it's like priming the pump. Ready for
the spunk to flow through. Enjoy it.' He touched his forefinger to the slit in
the tip and drew it away, stretching out a clear strand of sticky wetness.
'Please enjoy it, Ed. You look like I'm hurting you. Am I? Is it that tender?
I'll stop if you want me to.'
'Don't stop!'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes! Please!'
'Then I'm going to really rub now, all right?' Caspian wrapped his hand around
the stiff shaft and tugged it up and down, rapidly, making Edmund's hips jerk
and drawing a thin wail from his throat.
'Are you sure that doesn't hurt?'
'Do more do more do more!' Enormous swelling pleasure was building up, his
penis feeling so huge and hot it was hardly real, it was a dream, it was all
those dreams that made him wake up sticky and wet and ashamed. His hips shook
and his buttocks clenched and Caspian's warm strong hand moved and squeezed and
he felt the most astonishing shooting rush from the root of his balls. The
pleasure peaked and burst and he was coming, his penis spurting strands and
blobs of white from its swollen head and covering Caspian's hand. All the
strength went out of his arms and legs and he flopped forward to lie on
Caspian's belly, shivering blissfully. Caspian held him, a hand for his penis
and an arm for his back, stroking both slowly and soothingly.
'Shhh,' he whispered. 'Shhh.'
'Now,' Edmund croaked, 'now it hurts a little.'
'Sorry. It can be very tender after you come.' Caspian slid his hand away and
wrapped his other arm around him, hugging him tight.
'Ohhh...'
'Do you feel any weaker or duller?' Caspian asked, and he felt his smile
against the side of his face.
'I feel like I'm made of floppy india-rubber.'
'That doesn't sound dull at all.'
'Do you really do that every day?'
'It's not quite so exhausting when you're used to it. You just look forward to
it as a pleasure. I wake up in the morning, and my cock is hard, so I rub it
gently until I come, and it just feels sweet and lovely. Then after lunch, when
I rest, I think of you and it grows hard again...'
'You think about me?'
'Of course I do. I think about how lovely you are. I let myself have a little
fantasy that Lucy and Eustace didn't come on the Dawn Treader, that it was just
you, so I could have you in my cabin with me, in the big bed. What do you think
we might have done there?' He ran his hand gently up and down Edmund's spine.
'Kissing?' Edmund suggested hesitantly.
'Mm. Lots of kissing. Stroking and rubbing... coming together.' He kissed
Edmund's cheek and nuzzled at his ear. 'Do you think you could make me come?'
'I - I don't know.'
'Roll over and let me show you.' Caspian nudged him over onto his back and
fumbled with his trouser buttons. 'Wait - they won't -'
'Unclip the braces,' Edmund suggested, helping him.
'I just got into these and now I want to take them off,' Caspian muttered. He
pulled his trousers down and kicked them away, shoving his shoes and socks off
with his feet, struggling out of the pullover. That left him in shirt, vest and
underpants, with a bulge in the pants that made Edmund feel simultaneously very
nervous and unbearably eager to see.
'Now,' Caspian said, smiling sunnily, 'give me your hand, sweetheart.' He took
Edmund's hand and placed it on the bulge, guiding him to feel the shape of his
erection, a long thick tube that shifted gently as he pressed on it, very warm
through the cotton, lying up against Caspian's lower belly and stretching the
elastic waistband. Edmund nibbled at his lower lip as he felt his way along it,
gingerly, up to the blunt round tip.
'You can touch it more firmly than that,' Caspian told him. 'It will be fine.
Feel all over it and get to know the shape.' He was gazing up at Edmund fondly,
his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright. 'Then when you're comfortable, you can
have a look.'
'It feels really... I don't know, it feels alive, like a creature,' Edmund
said. 'Long like a snake but warm like a... a mouse.'
Caspian pressed his lips together tightly for a moment, in order not to laugh
at him. This hesitant rubbing was sweet but also very ticklish. He watched
Edmund's face, the way his dark brows drew together, so very, very serious
about this, the white of his teeth holding back the fullness of his ripe red
lip. 'Do you want to see it now?' he asked.
'Um - yes.' Edmund hooked his fingers into the waistband, pulled it out and
down. Caspian sighed happily as his penis sprang back against his belly, free
and warm.
'It's - it's thicker than mine, and more curvy,' Edmund said. 'Is mine all
right, I mean is it normal?'
'Yours is lovely. They're all different, so don't worry about it.'
'It's redder too...' He traced the underside, the thick central rib.
'Your skin is paler than mine to begin with. Beautiful, creamy skin. Oh, Ed...
please, don't just tickle it. Grip it. That's right! That's wonderful! Hold it.
And slide your hand up and down. Yes. Do you do this for yourself?'
'I try not to. And - and when I share a room with someone else, and I nearly
always have to, he might hear, he might notice. And he'd be disgusted.'
'Nearly everyone does it, Ed. Ohh... and you're actually very good at it.'
'Still. I'd - I'd rather do it for you, with just us two alone.'
'Mmm... you can do that, then.' He flexed his hips, pushing into Edmund's grip.
'Keep rubbing. And kiss me.'
Edmund hesitated, leaned in and brushed Caspian's lips with his own, feeling
his way into the kiss a little at a time, working out how he could use his lips
and tongue together, gaining confidence as it felt better and better, as
Caspian thrust into his hand and moaned delightedly.
'I love you,' Caspian whispered. 'Oh, I love you!' He put his hand over
Edmund's and urged him to rub faster. 'Yes, yes, yes!' He gasped and closed his
eyes, his body arching as his penis twitched and spat. 'Oh, my Ed... oh...' He
relaxed, breathing heavily, head falling back on the bed, unable to stop
smiling.
'That was quite easy,' Edmund said, sounding so surprised that Caspian had to
laugh, an affectionate chuckle that got him a shove in the ribs. 'Don't make
fun of me! I'm new to all this.'
'It's very easy. I mean, there are all sorts of other things we can do, but
that seemed like the simplest, nicest way to start.' He wrapped his arms around
Edmund and hugged him close, holding him for a long time, breathing in the
scent of his hair, different in this other world, more soapy.
'Love you too,' Edmund murmured against his neck, better late than never. 'We
should tidy up and get dressed... Lucy'll be back soon.'
'No... stay away, Lucy, stay away.'
'Oh, come on. You like Lu.'
'I love her, but I want to be alone with you.'
'I do too,' Edmund said, looking a little shy about it, 'but we should be
sensible. What happens if she comes home and we're lying around half
undressed?'
'I don't know. What does happen? Would she mind? Wouldn't she just be happy
that we love each other? Lucy is the sweetest girl in the world.'
Edmund stewed over that. Lucy was the sweetest girl and it sounded persuasive,
but surely this sort of thing just had to be secret no matter what. 'Well, it
would be embarrassing for her if she saw us. Girls don't want to see this sort
of thing.'
'Well, they usually don't care about seeing their brother's sort of thing,'
Caspian said, laughing. 'And I promise not to show her my sort of thing,
because that's just for you.'
'Oh no... there's... there's stuff on my shirt. And your trousers.' Edmund sat
up, pulled out his handkerchief, spat on it and started dabbing.
'It will wash out,' Caspian said calmly.
'Caspian. Lucy does our washing. I'm not asking her to do that.'
'Lucy does the washing?' Caspian looked stunned.
'Look, we're not kings and queens here. We're quite ordinary. I mean, we're
lucky in many ways. As I said, we're middle class. We have education, and a
good home, and all of that, but we don't have servants or anything. Before the
war we did have a cleaning lady who did the wash as well, but she had to go and
work in a factory. Things are really, really different here.' To his horror, he
felt tears rising up, and concentrated fiercely on keeping them down.
'Things are... grey. And small, and dull, and cheap and drab. You've got a
castle and a ship. I've got a room in my parents' house, and a bike. I mean, it
isn't like this all over the world. There are glorious places, like... America,
I suppose, and Africa and the South Seas. But it costs a lot to go there, and I
haven't any money, and travelling is difficult anyway because there's a
terrible war on. It's called a world war, and it's the second one we've had. I
want to fight, but I'm two years too young. And there's no magic, and no Aslan.
There's Jesus Christ, but you never get to see him or talk with him. He hasn't
actually been in the world for nearly two thousand years.' It was no good, he
was crying now, because the world was so awful and there was no way out of it
except the one way that would certainly make things worse.
'I didn't mean to get like this,' he said, trying frantically to sniff back the
flow. 'I'm happy! I'm so happy to see you!'
'Oh, my Edmund,' Caspian said softly. He sat up and wrapped his arms around
him, putting his head on his shoulder. 'I didn't know. How could the whole
world be at war?'
'I don't think Switzerland is,' Edmund said, wiping his nose on Caspian's
shoulder. 'But enough of the world is for it to count.'
'Why won't they let you fight? You could lead. You would be wonderful.'
'I'm just a boy. It's all different here. I wouldn't be allowed to lead anyone
for years yet, even if they did let me join the army.'
'I wish I could understand why Aslan doesn't want you to live in Narnia any
more. How can you be happy here?'
'I don't know. Maybe I'm not supposed to be happy. I'm supposed to learn to
bear not being happy.'
'But what for?' Caspian drew back, taking Edmund's face between his hands.
'There must be some good reason. Something you need to be here to do. Perhaps
you'll find a way to end this war, to bring peace. Or perhaps it's something
after the war ends. I can't believe you're not supposed to be someone
important, Ed. Someone glorious.' He kissed his wet cheeks, his trembling
mouth.
'I'm not going to be glorious if I sit around crying, though, am I.'
'Cry here, with me, and get it over with.'
'I can't always have you, though. You'll have to go back. You're the king. You
can't just stop.' He sniffed hard. 'I mean... kings can stop, our king before
this one did.'
'How?'
'He abdicated. Because he wanted to marry a woman who'd been divorced, and he
wasn't allowed to do that and stay king. So he gave it up and his younger
brother is king now. He's a good king. He's got a terrible stutter but he's
good.'
'I haven't a younger brother. And I will need to marry a woman to have an
heir.'
'I know. And you're such a good king. You wouldn't ever give up.'
'I wish you could be my - well, my fellow king. And we'd restore Cair
Paravel... and I'd rebuild your throne... and I'd do all the war things, and
you'd do all the justice things.'
'Would you be High King?' Edmund asked, managing half a smile.
'Oh, no. Not I.' A gentle kiss. 'Just king beside you. Everyone would love you,
but no-one more than me.'
'It's such a beautiful idea.'
'I wish it were real.' Caspian leant his forehead against Edmund's.
'I wonder how long you can stay. I suppose, in the end, something will pull you
back.'
'I'll stay every bit as long as I can, and love you every bit as much as I
can.'
'And there are nice things I can show you in this world, too. I'll show you
where our king lives. And the Natural History Museum, and things like that. The
best things in England are a little like things in Narnia. Just a little.' He
sniffed hard, and smiled bravely.
Downstairs, the front door clattered. Lucy's voice called out 'Hallo, Ed! I've
got a lovely bit of fish for our tea!'
'Let's get dressed and go and say hello to Lucy,' Caspian said, and kissed
Edmund's forehead.
 
===============================================================================
 
The fish wasn't quite enough for three people, but they eked it out with a tin
of baked beans. Lucy was thrilled to see Caspian again, and had no questions
about what he and Edmund were up to before she got home. She loved the idea of
teaching Caspian to ride a bike, so Edmund tried to do that while she cooked
their tea, helping Caspian wobble up and down the back garden.
'It's not as good as a horse,' Caspian said, after falling off for the sixth
time. 'Especially a talking horse. But it is fun.'
'Nothing is as good as a talking horse,' Edmund agreed. 'I miss mine so much.'
They lay on the grass by the Anderson shelter, looking up at the cloudy sky as
it darkened.
'It's strange to think of a country with only dumb animals.'
'A whole world.' Edmund let his hand lie at his side, and after a moment
Caspian laid his beside it, their fingers brushing and linking.
The kitchen door opened, and Lucy called out 'Tea's ready!'
Caspian slept in Edmund's room, came into his bed, and made love to him again
and again during the night, drifting between sleep and waking in each other's
arms. He strove to please him with his hands, with his mouth, with all of his
body, to drive out his sadness and replace it with love and joy. Edmund
whimpered and shook, and came so sweetly that Caspian fell in love with him all
over again.
'My darling,' he whispered, against Edmund's soft wet skin. 'My glorious
sweetheart.'
'Is... is there anything else we can do?' Edmund asked.
'I could put my cock into you, but it might be too soon. I might just hurt
you.'
'Where could you put it?'
'Your bottom. Remember how good it felt when I rubbed you with my fingers?'
'I couldn't believe you were doing that.'
'Didn't it feel wonderful?'
'I don't think you can get your cock in there. It's only small.'
'I can. We just need to put something on it, something soft and slippery.
Butter is good.'
'Butter is rationed. We can't waste it on your cock.'
'Then... something oily? Creamy?'
'All right. Hold on. I think there's some cold cream in the bathroom cupboard.'
Edmund rolled to the side of the bed.
'You want to let me?' Caspian caught him around the waist and kissed the back
of his neck.
'Everything else you've done has been so wonderful. Why not? Let go, can't you?
I need to get my dressing gown on.'
'Give me a kiss before you go.'
'I think I've given you a million kisses tonight.' Edmund obliged him, though.
'I'll always want one more. Mm. And one more.'
'Are you going to let me get up?'
'Mmmm... all right, now. Quick before I have to grab you again!'
Edmund pushed his feet into his slippers, wrapped his dressing gown around
himself and padded off in the dark. His whole body felt strange and wonderful
to him, warm and tingling and woken to new life. All of this was supposed to be
wrong and wicked and unnatural, but it felt blissful and above all loving. He
was sure he should have thought it was disgusting and unmanly and weird that
Caspian should want to take his penis in his mouth and lick and suck until he
came, but it just made him feel overwhelmed by how much Caspian must love him,
and by how incredibly soft and wet and strong his mouth was. It was stiffening
up again just remembering that, and he didn't feel impatient or disappointed or
disgusted with it; he felt prickles of excitement and expectation all over his
body.
He found the jar of cold cream, the one Susan had left behind because it was
two-thirds empty and she'd be able to get more easily in America. And lipstick!
And nylons! She had been as thrilled about all of that as she had been to go to
Calormen, and he only hoped this trip would turn out better for her. He stopped
for a moment, as the unwelcome thought occurred that Caspian had seemed to like
Susan before him. But Susan hadn't been able to come back to Narnia, and Susan
wasn't here now. Was Caspian only settling for him because he was available?
Well... no... he wouldn't 'settle' for a boy in place of a girl, surely. He'd
have to actually want Edmund, as he was.
He went back to his room, where Caspian pulled him back into bed and tore off
his dressing gown and covered his face with kisses.
'Those built up while you were away!' he declared. 'I nearly burst.'
'You're mad,' Edmund told him.
'Mad with love. Now, what have you brought me? Show.'
'It's only Pond's.'
'Well, from my point of view that's faraway and exotic. Light the lamp so we
can see what we're doing.'
Edmund turned on his bedside light, reflexively looking towards the window to
make sure the blackout curtains hadn't been disturbed. When he and Lucy had
explained to Caspian why they couldn't show a light at night, about the great
death-dealing machines that flew overhead, his eyes had gone round and dark
with astonishment and dread. They were still very dark, but now they looked
warm and loving and full of desire. Caspian was so clearly comfortable naked,
in a way that he hadn't been since he was a very little boy. He lay beside him
bare to his eyes, legs spread and penis jutting up, warm and rosy.
'Aren't you ever embarrassed?' Edmund asked wistfully.
'What about? This? Why would I be embarrassed about this, when it's so useful?'
He held his penis and wiggled it, smiling. 'And such fun? How many times do I
need to tell you, you should just enjoy yours? Grab it and say "I am the mighty
King Edmund, and this is my beautiful cock".'
'I'd feel like such a twit.'
'Here, grab it, like this. Give it a rub. It feels wonderful, doesn't it?'
'All right, yes... wonderful.'
'I am the mighty King Edmund...'
'I am the mighty King Edmund,' Edmund repeated, not quite not giggling.
'And this is my beautiful cock.'
'Andthisismy - hmph! - all right, my - my very nice cock.'
'Beautiful!'
'You think it's beautiful. I don't have to.'
'Do you think mine is beautiful?'
'Oh, come on, Caspian.'
'Say something nice about my cock.'
'It's a pretty colour.'
Caspian pouted at him.
'And it's very friendly.'
'Oh, all right, I'll accept that. Give me a kiss, mighty king.' He rolled on
top of Edmund, kissing his lips, his chin, his neck, working his way down over
chest and stomach to suckle at his balls. Edmund squirmed and gasped, spreading
his legs and clenching his buttocks, shifting his weight up and down on the
bed.
'Are they full of spunk again?' Caspian asked, with a low tickle of laughter in
his voice.
'Shut up.'
'Well, I thought you were starting to dry up a little bit last time. All right.
Roll over. Here, put the pillow under your hips to hold you up. You have a
beautiful bottom too. It's as white as milk.' He laid his hands on Edmund's
buttocks, let him feel the warmth for a moment, and gently pressed them apart.
'And in between, hmm... I think it's the same pink as inside a strawberry. Or a
hedge-rose bud.'
'Will you... will you rub like before? I did like that.'
'Of course I will.' He started just behind Edmund's balls, gently pressing into
the tenderness there and stroking up and down.
'Ohhh... oh, that feels so hot.'
'Then should I put on a little bit of cold cream?'
'It's a good hot.' There was a sweet little moan in Edmund's voice, and he
wriggled his hips comfortably.
'But let's try hot and cold together.' He opened the jar and dipped his
fingers, dabbing a white stripe along the cleft and rubbing it in. Edmund
sighed and pushed back against his hand. 'And if I just keep rubbing on the -
the little rosebud, it will start to relax. Doesn't that feel good?'
'Mmmhhh...'
'It's blushing pinker. Now, I'm going to push with my finger. And I want you to
push back.'
'Won't that keep you out?'
'No. It's a funny thing... it just opens up.'
'But what if... um...'
'If you can feel anything is going to come out, just stop.'
'All... all right.'
'Gentle push.' His finger slipped in to the first joint and Edmund moaned.
'Gentle push.' The second joint, and a gasp. He flexed his finger, feeling how
tight Edmund was, how his muscles twitched and flickered.
'Oh, my Ed, I'm not sure I'll be able to. You're right, you're very small.'
'No! I want you to.'
'But it will hurt. At first, at least.'
'I don't care. I can cope with a bit of pain.'
'It doesn't stay pain, though. My first time hurt, but I still came, and the
next time hurt less and felt better, and so on...' He slid his finger back and
forth, and beckoned. 'It may be all right.'
'Caspian... who'd you learn all this with?'
'Friends. In my court.'
'And it's just normal?'
'Nice and normal.' He felt for the spot that would please Edmund best, pressing
through the slick inner wall.
'Aah...' Edmund arched his back and tensed all over.
'Good, or hurting?'
'Good! What the hell is that?'
'Hold still so I can find it again. There!'
'Aah! Can you - can you reach deeper?'
'Not with my finger, no.'
'Then with your cock?'
'Let's try. Just the tip first. Let me put the cream on.' He caught his breath.
'Literally cold, isn't it?' On his knees, he rubbed the head of his penis up
and down the cleft, catching his breath at the pleasure of it, and pressed it
into the opening. 'Gentle push,' he breathed, and felt Edmund yield to him,
felt his tender flesh sink in, bit his lip and steadied himself with his hand
on Edmund's hip.
'All right?'
'Mmmh!'
'Try to stay relaxed while I push it in.' He couldn't take his own advice; he
was trembling with eagerness and excitement, and inside Edmund was so soft and
warm and tight that he had to stop and breathe deeply, telling himself it was
still too soon to come.
'I love you,' he whispered.
'Hold still,' Edmund begged. 'Hold still till I get used to it. Hurts.'
'It's all right...' He rubbed Edmund's lower back, feeling his muscles twitch.
'It won't hurt for long, I promise.'
'Uhhh...' Edmund shuddered and wrapped his arms around his second pillow,
steadying himself. 'Right. You can... you can do whatever... oh...'
Caspian kissed his shoulderblades and began to move his hips, very slowly,
groaning low in his throat at the sweetness of it, at Edmund's heat and the way
he quivered, the little hoarse grunts he uttered. He could only see half his
face, his head turned against the pillow, his cheek flushed red and his brows
screwed tight together and his mouth gasping wetly for air. He couldn't tell if
it was a look of ecstasy or if Edmund was just grimly tolerating a grinding
pain.
'Are - are you all right, my darling?'
'Yes...'
'I love you, Ed, I love you so much...' He let himself move a little faster,
push a little deeper, starting to pant. 'Ah, my darling...' The pleasure grew
and grew, and he bit his lip hard. 'Say you love me!'
'Of - of cuh - cour- ah! I luh- I - ah! Ah! C-Caspian!'
'I love you so...'
'Love you...'
'Sweet Ed...' There was no question of controlling himself now, and if he was
hurting Edmund he would just have to make it up to him later. He thrust hard
and fast, full of fierce, greedy joy, friction burning and building into a
perfect climax. The last strokes were reflex, movements he couldn't stop
himself making, and he slumped over Edmund's back, running with sweat. When he
got a little breath back, he murmured 'Sorry.'
''s'all right.'
'That was... darling Ed, could you come?'
'I was getting close... but then you finished. It's all right.'
'You're going to come, though.' He pulled out and rolled Edmund onto his back,
shuffled back and dropped onto his elbows to lick his penis from root to tip,
long wet soft strokes, until he shook with delight and sprayed his own belly.
'That's better, isn't it?'
'Mmm... thank you...' Edmund stretched, then curled up, watching him with
dreamy eyes.
'May I borrow your dressing gown to go to the privy?'
'It's not called the privy. It's the loo. Yes.'
'Be back soon.' He pressed a lingering kiss into Edmund's mouth, and went.
Edmund pulled the covers up over himself, starting to feel a touch cold. He was
tingly and trembly all over, weak and limp as a wet leaf. His bottom was
burning, but he felt a certain satisfaction about the fact that he had been
able to accept Caspian, and that he had been able to hold on through the pain
until the pleasure began. That pleasure had been wonderful, if only there had
been more of it - perhaps the next time it would start sooner? Would they have
time for a next time? He didn't think he could cope with another try tonight,
so would Caspian be able to stay another night? Was it all right to wish for
that?
Caspian came back, freshly washed and smiling. He rolled into bed beside him
and kissed him heartily. 'All right, sweetheart?' He had even brought some
toilet paper to help Edmund clean up, which struck Edmund as very gentlemanly.
'All right. Bit sore.' He winced at the rough feeling of the paper on his
reddened skin.
'I'll put a bit more cold cream on to soothe it. Sorry, my darling, I didn't
mean to ride you quite that hard.' His hand was cool and kind now; he wiped his
fingers on the last of the paper and stuffed it down into the wastepaper
basket.
'Well. You ride me better than you ride a bike.'
'Edmund.' He rolled on top of him and held him down.
'It's a compliment!' Edmund protested, laughing.
'Well, you're nicer to ride than a bike. You have a softer saddle.'
Edmund made a sort of smothered snort. 'Thanks so much.'
'You're welcome.' He lay down beside him and gathered him into his arms,
curling up to his back.
'So, now have we done everything we can do?'
'Well, there are all sorts of variations, but we've covered the basics.'
'Good. May as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb.' Edmund snuggled back
against Caspian and held his hand against his own chest.
'I can feel your heart,' Caspian murmured. 'It's very strong.' He kissed
Edmund's shoulder, laid down his head and drifted off to sleep.
 
===============================================================================
 
They made love once more in the morning, before Lucy started calling things
from the bottom of the stairs about certain people who slept in like great lazy
lumps and shouldn't expect any breakfast.
'Forgive us, O Valiant Queen, Lioness of Lantern Waste!' Caspian yelled back.
'I'm just making sure King Edmund, Lawgiver, Peacebringer, Master of the
Chessboard and Battlefield, makes his bed!'
'See that he washes his face, too!' Lucy called.
'Do you hear that?' Caspian whispered. 'You're to wash your face. No going down
to breakfast with my spunk on your forehead.'
'It's on my forehead?' Edmund wiped, stared, and licked his fingers. 'Yuk.'
'Yours doesn't taste any better, you know. I just swallow it because I love
you.' He smiled and kissed Edmund's cheek. 'Time for a quick wash and brush-up,
I think.'
 
===============================================================================
 
That day, Edmund and Lucy took Caspian on a very partial and incomplete tour of
London. They were slowed down by the fact that, while they had thought he would
be interested to see historical landmarks, he kept stopping to stare at things
like cars, lamp-posts ('just like our one!'), pillar-boxes and barrage
balloons, and he got over-excited on the Tube and kept nudging Edmund, pointing
at advertising posters and exclaiming, and generally making an exhibition of
himself.
'He's just up from the country,' Lucy told the people staring at them, with a
sweet smile. She and Edmund hurried Caspian out of the train at the next stop
regardless, and took him to a Lyons Corner House to calm down with a cup of tea
and a bun.
'I can't believe it's all one city!' he said. 'It's so vast!'
'Do you know, when you get excited your Telmarine accent starts coming back?'
Lucy asked him.
'I've tried so hard to lose it and sound more Narnian,' Caspian said
sheepishly.
'I noticed that last night,' Edmund said, and then blushed furiously and had to
hide his confusion in his tea. Caspian made that worse by pressing his foot
against his under the table and smiling very slightly. He didn't like tricking
Lucy with private jokes; it felt mean, and what was more, it was risky. Lucy
wasn't silly. Actually, she was so clever she was probably going to university;
for his own part, he hoped to get into Sandhurst.
'Where next?' Caspian was asking.
'Well, would you like to see where the King lives?' Lucy asked. 'We won't
actually see him, but they fly the flag to show whether he's at home. Or there
are all sorts of museums and galleries.'
'The Natural History Museum? Ed mentioned that.'
'Oh, yes, that's lovely! Let's do that. It's not far to South Ken.'
They spent the rest of the morning wandering around the museum, Edmund and Lucy
explaining things that Caspian ought to know very very quietly.
'But if Darwin came up with evolution and turned out to be right, and Owen
opposed him but turned out to be wrong, why is Owen's statue on the big
staircase and Darwin's off to one side?' he whispered.
'Because Owen built the museum,' Edmund whispered back. 'Anyway, still not
everyone thinks Darwin was right, because the Bible says all the animals and
things were created in seven days by God. That's our name for the Emperor Over
the Sea.'
'Oh. Our tales say Aslan sang the world into being, and I think it only took
about a day. Though they never quite explain things like why there's an
English-looking lamp-post in the middle of a forest that never goes out,'
Caspian replied. His face fell. 'Of course, perhaps there were tales that
explained that, but we Telmarines suppressed them, and now we'll never know.'
'It was a mystery even in our day,' Lucy said. 'Cheer up.' She took Caspian's
hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. He smiled back at her and Edmund wished he
could walk hand in hand with Caspian without people thinking it was madly odd.
It might have been all right if they were both about eight.
'But do you think that means our tales aren't literally true either?'
Lucy shrugged. 'They could be, though. Everything's more magical in your world.
And just because people might make mistakes about what God did or how, it
doesn't mean He's not real. Come on, let's go and look at dinosaurs.'
They had lunch in the museum's café, and then walked along to the Victoria and
Albert. Lucy was still holding Caspian's hand, swinging their arms between them
as they walked and chatting to him happily. It made Edmund feel mutely jealous
and stupid for feeling jealous in the first place, and he fell into walking a
pace behind them, his hands in his coat pockets. Caspian noticed that, and
half-turned back, offering his free hand and smiling. Edmund considered, and
decided that as long as he was holding hands with Lucy too it could look as if
they were just being a bit childish. He took Caspian's hand and smiled back,
feeling his cheeks flush a bit and hoping it wasn't too noticeable. They walked
three abreast, and Lucy started humming one of Tumnus' flute songs.
Late in the afternoon, with heads overloaded with art and history, they took
the Tube home. It was crowded, so that they couldn't sit, but that had its
compensations. Nobody could see that Caspian and Edmund's hands were still
linked, or that Caspian was stroking Edmund's palm with his thumb, or that
Edmund leaned against him and felt himself borne up like a ship on the tide.
They got home in the dusk, and Lucy said as she unlocked the front door, 'Now,
can you two get your own tea?'
'Aren't you stopping in?' Edmund asked, confused.
'No, silly. I'm going to Katie Glass's house to help make her sister's wedding
dress, remember? I told you about it last week.' She knocked on his forehead.
'You can hold a map, but not remember a little thing like that.'
'Don't worry,' Caspian said. 'I'll take care of him and make sure he eats
vegetables.'
'Then I'll count on you,' Lucy said, smiling. 'I'm just going to get changed
and get my workbasket, and then I'll be off.' She scampered up the stairs, and
Caspian hugged Edmund around the waist as soon as she was out of sight.
'We have all evening alone together!' he whispered.
'Shhh,' Edmund hissed back, although he could not stop smiling.
'We need to start tea.'
'I don't need tea! I can be nourished on love alone!'
'Well, I want at least beans on toast. I've been walking all day!' He wriggled
out of Caspian's arms as Lucy's footsteps came back down the stairs.
'Off I go!' she called, and smacked a kiss onto each of their cheeks. 'Be good,
darlings!'
'You've put on lipstick!' Edmund said, almost as if it were an accusation.
'Oh, blast, I've wasted it on you two. What if I have? It's only Tangee.' She
went over to the hallstand mirror and pulled the lipstick tube from her coat
pocket, quickly reapplying it. 'Must go!' She was out the door like a
whirlwind.
'Now you're wearing lipstick,' Caspian said, and wiped Edmund's cheek with his
thumb. 'I don't really see why any of you Pevensies would need it, though;
pretty rosy lips seem to run in the family.'
'Caspian!'
'Yours are the prettiest, though, don't worry.' Caspian kissed him, and slipped
his tongue deep into his mouth. They clung together in the hall, hearts
pounding.
'I really do want some tea, though,' Edmund said.
'Well, of course. I'm hungry as a hunter; that love-nourishment nonsense was
just poetic speaking.'
'Come on.' Edmund towed him by the hand to the kitchen, and sat him down in a
chair. 'Why don't you tell me some of your poetry while I cook something?'
'My poetry is so awful, though,' Caspian said. 'The best that can be said of it
is that it rhymes at least half the time. Are you going to wear Lucy's pinny-
apron?'
'No. I'm going to tuck a tea-towel into my belt. That's what men do.'
'And what are you going to cook for me, sweetheart?'
'Egg, chips and beans. You can peel potatoes, right? Then you peel and I'll...
chip, while the fat gets hot. And I insist on hearing some of this poetry. What
made you start?' Edmund lit the hob and put the pan of hard chip fat on to
melt.
'A complete, well-rounded king is supposed to have artistic accomplishments,'
Caspian said. 'According to the stories, Peter drew and painted and you were
brilliant at chess and music.'
'I wish I still was,' Edmund said, getting out the potatoes. 'It's a really
strange thing about our Golden Age selves. I can't remember everything from
that time - not every day. It's more like remembering a long, involved dream.
Some things come back if I do them again - like sword-fighting. But other
things I just can't remember at all, and it's the same for the others. For
example, music? I know that I learned music from Mr Tumnus, and I could play
the pipes and the lute and the harp. I wrote songs of my own. I can't do any of
those now. There's a harp in the music-room at school, and I had a go when
nobody else was around, and it just didn't come back. And I have a feeling I
was engaged to be married, to a duchess from Archenland, but I can't remember
her face or her name!'
'Poor duchess!' Caspian made a competent start on the peeling.
'And Golden Age me hardly remembered being Edmund Pevensie. He didn't remember
listening to the wireless, or playing cricket, or loving Turkish Delight.'
'What's Turkish Delight?'
'It's a sweet. I hate it now. Have you ever had that rose-jelly from Calormen?
Very like that.'
'Horrible stuff,' Caspian said loyally. 'Tastes like soap. And the powdery
stuff they coat it with, if I pick a piece up in my fingers it just makes me
shudder, I can't explain why.'
'I know! It's beastly. And you're still not telling me any of your poetry.'
'All right. I'll give it a try. I hope I remember it right.' Caspian handed the
first peeled potato to Edmund, frowned in thought, and began.
'My love is far away from me, away
'Beyond the eastern stars, beyond the dawn.
'I clasped him close to me, then had to say
'Fare well, most dear, and set sail home to mourn.'
'Dawn and mourn don't rhyme properly,' Edmund said, 'but I suppose it works as
an assy-thingummy.'
'Do you want to hear this tender love poem, or do you want potato peel down
your neck?'
'Love poem, please.'
'All right.
'For home, I thought, was barren of his form,
'His colours rich, his ear-delighting voice,
'His strength of limb, his breath so sweet and warm,
'But Aslan's will be done and not my choice.
'And yet in home I found him everywhere,
'On Ettinsmuir the peat-pools were his eyes,
'Raspberries were his lips, the night his hair,
'Slim birch-trees were his white arms and his thighs - (shut up, Edmund.)
'In Narnia lives my love, ever near,
'Till in Aslan's Country, his voice I hear.'
Edmund gave him a round of applause.
'It's not that good. The rhythm's awful at the end and I know how bad that part
about your legs is, but I like your legs.'
'It's better than anything I could come up with. I mean, if I tried to write a
poem about you, it would go like "There once was a king called Caspian X, good
at sailing and fighting and also at sex".'
'There once was a king called Edmund the Just, recipient of King Caspian's
lust.'
'Oh, good one!'
'He had creamy white skin and raspberry lips, and was awfully good at cutting
up chips.'
'Caspian X had a wonderful smile, and you could look at his hair for a very
long while.'
'King Edmund did not like Turkish Delight, but he liked to be kissed and
buggered all night.'
'King Caspian was very proud of his cock, which was red as a rose and hard as a
rock.'
'King Caspian asked of his sweetheart King Ed, after our tea shall we go
straight to bed?'
'King Edmund agreed to an early bed-time, as long as he didn't have to think of
a rhyme.'
'I think we're both brilliant poets,' Caspian said, and leaned across the table
to kiss him.
After a very satisfactory tea they made a slap-dash attempt at washing the
dishes, which ended in towel-flicking, water-splashing and wrestling on the
floor.
'You beast, you've got my shirt all wet. I was hoping to make that last another
day.'
'Take it off, then,' Caspian said, and started popping buttons and kissing each
newly exposed bit of skin until he met underwear. 'Vests are incredibly ugly.'
He undid the rest of the buttons and pushed Edmund's vest up over his chest,
scattering open-mouthed kisses over his skin, sucking lightly and stroking with
his tongue.
'Well, they keep us warm. Oh...' Each kiss left a ticklish warm wet circle that
shivered in the night air.
'I'll keep you warm.'
'On a wet lino floor? Let me up.' He wrapped his arms around Caspian's neck.
'Let's go up to bed. That'll be warm and soft and nice.'
'Ohhh... but I don't want to get up off you. I don't want to let go even a
little bit.' He rocked back onto his heels and pushed his hands through his
hair, then got to his feet and gave Edmund a hand up. He wrapped his arms
around him tight, and kissed him deeply and sweetly. 'Thought of any more
rhymes?'
'Only rubbish like "I love you very very much, you're the one I want to
touch".'
'I think I must actually be a very good lover.'
'Oh, really? And why do you have such a high opinion of yourself?'
'Because yesterday you were so, so nervous and ashamed and uncomfortable, and
now you're so keen and sweet and eager. And you're rubbing yourself on my leg.'
'It feels nice. But it seems mad to say I've got a lover. People my age don't
have lovers.'
'Then what do you call the man who makes love to you?'
'Caspian, mainly.'
'That's a very good answer. Why does your bedroom have to be all the way
upstairs?'
'Race you up there.'
Caspian's legs were longer, but Edmund knew the turf and had a fractional head
start. Caspian grabbed his shirt-tail on the landing but he just ran out of his
shirt and left him holding it, and staggering back from the pull. He clattered
up the second flight and down the corridor and dived into his room with a
whoop, leaping onto Peter's vacant bed, bouncing off it like a trampoline and
landing on his own with a crash. Less than a second later, Caspian pounced on
him and they struggled until they were both helpless with laughter.
'Oh... oh Edmund, how am I supposed to love you if I can't breathe?'
'Catch your breath and I'll get your clothes off.' Edmund rolled to the end of
the bed and started pulling off Caspian's shoes and socks. Caspian sighed and
fell back, panting gently, smiling up at him when he returned to the head of
the bed and pulled off his jersey and unbuttoned his shirt. He smiled back,
although he didn't feel too certain of what he was doing. Caspian sat up,
shrugging out of his layers, and pulled Edmund back down with him, enjoying the
warm press of bare skin, chest to chest.
He ran his fingertips up and down Edmund's back, tracing the wings of his
shoulderblades, the ridge of his spine, gazing up into his eyes, serious now as
he kissed Caspian's cheek, his jawline, the side of his neck, working his way
down onto his chest with dry-lipped, hesitant kisses. Caspian had always taken
the lead so far, so it was thrilling to see Edmund try. He was looking up at
him, those great dark eyes under their inky brows, and he could see such
wonderful love and need there. The only light in the room was moonlight from
the open window, and his bare skin looked blue-white, his lips looked violet,
and Caspian shivered purely because Edmund looked cold.
'Close the curtains so we can have some light,' he suggested.
'Oh - right. Anyway, I don't think I want the Luftwaffe to look in and see my
bare bum,' Edmund said with a half-smile. He rolled off the bed and went to the
window. Caspian lay and watched him, moonlit before he drew the blackouts
together, a silver-edged man-boy with the beginnings of broad shoulders and a
proud peak in the front of his trousers.
'They would be lucky,' he said loyally. 'You are beautiful.' He reached over
and turned on the lamp - which was another little marvel of Edmund's world,
clicking on just like the torch, no need for a flame.
'Pfft.' Edmund undid his belt and pushed down his trousers and pants, scuffing
out of his shoes and socks and crawling back onto the bed.
'Especially now.'
'I said pfft.' He kissed Caspian's stomach, descending again, making a line
down to his waist and starting on his fly buttons, Caspian stroking his hair.
'Am I doing this properly?'
'Mmhm.' He lifted his hips to let Edmund pull his trousers down, his legs to
take them off.
'Caspian. No pants?'
'They're uncomfortable.'
'I thought you liked the elastic.'
'To play with, not to wear all day.' He ran his fingertips along Edmund's jaw
to the tip of his chin, stroked his lower lip with his thumb. 'Do you know how
you could make me very happy?'
'I'll try, but I don't really know what I'm doing.'
'As long as you don't actually bite me, it's hard to get wrong. Just kiss it to
begin with. Start at the bottom and work your way up.' He sighed deeply as
Edmund began, his dry, soft lips tickling. Reaching the head, he hesitated a
moment, breathing heavily, then parted his lips and gently sucked the tip.
'Oh... oh, Ed.'
'Mm?'
'It's lovely. Pull it in a little deeper. Mm!' He parted his legs, letting
Edmund nestle in between them. 'Oh, you lovely boy... deeper.' He was breathing
rapidly, his fingers moving blindly over Edmund's hair, his cheeks, his jaw,
feeling the tension in him, the quick flickering energy. 'Wait a moment - hold
still.'
He got up, turned over, lay with his head between Edmund's legs and guided his
head back between his own. 'Now you do me while I do you.' He filled his mouth
and his hands with Edmund's warmth, squeezing and rubbing his buttocks and
thighs as he sucked his stiff penis, feeling him whimper and moan and gulp
around his own erection. He loved how Edmund trembled and squirmed, how raw and
pure and immediate his reactions were. He supposed he wouldn't stay like that
for long, but then, they wouldn't have long. Edmund's moans were growing
deeper, his buttocks were clenching convulsively, and he had lost any timidity
about handling Caspian's penis, mirroring the eagerness of his mouth and hands.
He came with a great shudder and a hoarse grunt, going limp.
'Finish me?' Caspian gasped. 'Oh, please, finish me.'
'Mm...' Soft slack mouth tightening on him again, giving just the little bit
more that he needed. He lay in a blissful daze, head pillowed on Edmund's
thigh, panting.
'My mouth feels strange,' Edmund mumbled. 'Different.'
'I suppose it is different.'
'You mean it's not a virgin any more?'
'Ha. I suppose not.' He kissed Edmund's thigh, stroked the kiss into his skin
and sat up, leaning on one arm, stroking from his hip up over his ribs to his
chest. 'You're getting goosebumps. Come on.' They pulled down the covers and
curled up, pulling the quilt up round their shoulders and huddling together
until the warmth spread through the sheets.
'I can still feel the shape of you in my mouth,' Edmund tried to explain. 'Like
how when I woke up this morning, I could still feel you in my bum. I went on
feeling it from time to time most of the day, specially when I sat down.'
'I'm sorry, sweetheart.'
'No, it didn't hurt. I just felt the shape of you, like... like being buggered
by a ghost,' he said, and started to laugh.
'Maybe you were! If I ever catch that ghost I'll tie it in a knot.'
'Well, I just thought you'd like to hear what an impression your cock made on
me. Since you're so proud of it.'
'You've seemed to be getting quite fond of it too. You didn't feel as if you
were only sucking it to please me - there was some enthusiasm in it.'
'It was exciting,' Edmund admitted. 'I mean... it felt... not wrong or bad, I
didn't feel guilty or ashamed... but it felt sort of... aargh, I don't want to
say "naughty," that's a little kid word and I didn't feel like a kid. But I
felt daring and... oh I don't know. Like I was going out of bounds.'
'When I suck yours I feel as if I'm worshipping you. Worshipping it.'
'You're really strange about cocks, Caspian.'
'Well, I like them! They're beautiful, they're fun, they're full of life -
those are all good things to worship, aren't they?'
'You know, that's in the marriage service here.'
'Cocks? That's a bit surprising.'
'No, it goes "with this ring, I thee wed, with my body, I thee worship." I
remember because when we were little Su used to make us all play Weddings.
She'd wear a lace tablecloth on her head and be the bride, and Peter had to
give her away and Lucy had to be the bridesmaid and I had to be the minister,
so I had to learn the words.'
'Who did she play at marrying?'
'Usually the rocking-horse.' He grinned at Caspian's laughter. 'It didn't
matter much, it was just a stand-in. The important thing was, she was Susan the
Bride.'
'Well, I know we can't be married, but with my body I thee worship.'
'Me too.'
'Do you now?'
'Yes, all right, I do.' Edmund took a breath and spoke very fast. 'Before when
we were like that it felt like - like everything just went round and round
through me and through you and it was like electricity through a circuit and
the electricity was how much I love you and want you.'
'Dear Ed.' Caspian kissed him, wrapping him up in his arms. 'Oh, I want to hold
onto you forever.'
'And never break the circuit.'
'Not really sure what that is.'
'Well, a circuit makes my torch light up. If you broke that, it wouldn't work
any more.'
'Then let's never, never break it.'
'Except that we have to.' Edmund sighed. 'There's got to be contact.'
'Don't let's think about it.'
'I know. I'm so glad you're here.' He stroked Caspian's cheek, brushing back
his hair.
'But... would you like me to give you a ring?'
'I couldn't wear it. Boys don't really wear rings.'
'Do you get to have any fun?'
'There's just... there's a lot of rules to follow if you want people to think
you're normal, not odd or unsound. I mean, there are rules you've got to follow
to be thought a man in Narnia.'
'Yes, but those are about being honest and brave and dealing fairly, not about
whether you wear a bit of jewellery.'
'We care about being honest and brave and fair too, you know.'
'Another keepsake, then. Like how I kept your torch.'
'I don't know. I'll think about it.'
'Can I still keep the torch, though?'
'Yes... I've got a new one now, anyway.'
'Good. I keep it under my pillow, you know.'
'Doesn't it keep you awake?'
'It's a very thick pillow and I push the torch to the back by the headboard.'
'How big's your bed?'
'I could lie sideways across it as easily as from top to bottom.'
'Sorry mine's only a single.'
'But I like being bundled together close to you. Even if we were in my big bed,
I'd lie like this, with my arms round you and our legs tangled up, and we'd be
wasting most of that space.'
'We could lie diagonally across it. No waste then.'
'You have such good ideas, Edmund. No wonder yours was a golden age.'
'Yours will be too.'
'Ah, it'd be easy to imagine a second golden age with you there.'
'We need to stop thinking about things like that, honestly.'
'I know... it's just so hard not to. I look into your eyes and I feel as if I
see my future.'
'Please, stop it. Let's just - would you like to ride me again? You can. I'd
like you to now. Come on.' He kissed Caspian with great determination and
reached down to rub him. 'We can worship each other a bit more.'
'The very best ideas...' He moved his hips, surging into Edmund's hand, feeling
his tongue flutter and swirl. 'Are you sure, though?'
'You said the second time felt better and hurt less, didn't you?'
'I hope it's like that for you too. You don't need to roll over, we can do it
facing each other too.'
'How? It's behind me, in case you hadn't noticed.'
'Just - here, let me move your legs. Bring them up like this, lift up your
bottom, and hold behind your knees. That's just right.'
'I'm going to be jolly uncomfortable like this,' Edmund protested, reddening.
'But I'll be able to kiss you at the same time, and won't you like that?'
'Well. Yes.'
'I certainly will.' He leaned in, placing his arms either side of Edmund's head
on the pillow, and kissed him, lingering over it, shuffling in on his knees so
that his thighs helped support Edmund's weight.
'All right... it's better with you there.'
'Feel like you're going out of bounds?' He ran his hands over the undersides of
Edmund's thighs, down to his buttocks and back up.
'A bit...'
'Try to relax... imagine lovely warm feelings spreading all through your body.'
'They're not imaginary. Well. Except my feet are cold up in the air.'
'Want me to put your socks back on?'
'No, I'd feel silly wearing socks and nothing else. Kiss me some more and I'll
forget about it.'
'All right.' He kept his hands moving, stroking and gently squeezing, returning
from time to time to the inner slopes, feeling Edmund grow warmer, more
relaxed, gradually more excited. 'Like me touching you there?'
'Mm...'
'I love when you close your eyes to feel it better... and bite your lip.'
'Go easy...' Edmund caught his breath.
'Sore?'
'Bit. The Pond's is under the pillow.'
'Ah.' He found it, fumbled off the lid, stroked a little down the cleft.
'Better?'
'Mmmm...' Edmund tipped his head back as Caspian's fingertips entered him.
'All right?'
'Better than last time.'
'Because it knows to expect something good in the end, I think.'
'In the end. Ha.'
'I wasn't even trying, but that was quite good!'
'Ohhh...'
'Do you want me to...'
'Not yet. Little bit more please.'
'Ah, so you like this? Just like this?'
'Yes.'
'My darling... you are so beautiful.'
'No I... oh...'
'You're shaking.'
'You can now. Oh...' He shivered as Caspian drew his fingers out. Caspian
kissed him as he pressed his penis into the cleft, slid up and down, stroking
with the shaft. 'Why aren't you...'
'Doesn't this feel nice?'
'Mmm...'
'Last night I was too excited, and I rushed.' He rocked his hips slowly. 'I can
do a lot better than that.'
'Ohhhh...' He lifted his hips, pushing up against Caspian. 'But I... I want you
to...'
'Aah...' He sank in, rolling forward, leaning into another deep kiss, feeling
Edmund tense and relax and shudder blissfully. 'You're so warm... and soft.' He
slid his hand between them, wrapping and stroking his straining erection,
keeping in time with his hips, a slow, steady rhythm.
'You're so big and hard.'He bit his lip, inadvertently bit Caspian's too.
'Aaaah... ah...'
'Love you.' He pressed his forehead to Edmund's, drew back a little, drove in,
found that he couldn't look away from his eyes, not even to kiss him.
'Love you...' Edmund's voice shook, but he gazed back steadily till his eyes
flickered to Caspian's lips, and he lifted his head, trying to reach them with
his own. Caspian drew back, dipped in, back again, forcing him to crane his
neck to get the kiss he wanted. 'Don't be mean...'
'I'm not mean... look how good I'm making you feel...'
'But kiss me... kiss me...' Edmund took one hand from his leg to grab Caspian's
head, lacing his fingers into his long hair, holding him close and kissing him
urgently, hitching his hips hard against him.
'Tell me when you want me to go faster...'
'Now.'
'Really?'
'Yes! Oh...' His grip tightened and he arched up sharply. There were no more
words between them, only gasps and grunts and bitten-off cries, the rattle and
thump of the bed and the clap of thigh on thigh, fierce sweet pleasure building
and swelling and rising to a shattering peak. They lay, panting, bathed in
sweat, giddy and euphoric.
'You're squashing me,' Edmund murmured. He gave Caspian a friendly nudge, chin
on his shoulder.
'Mmm... nice sort of squash, though, I think.'
'You're not the squashed one.'
'Ah, all right. I need the loo, anyway. Did I say that right? The loo?'
'I do too. But you can go first, 'cos I don't think I can use my legs yet.'
 
===============================================================================
 
They were sleeping soundly, wound up in each other's arms and legs, when the
air-raid siren began to howl. Edmund woke with a groan and an imprecation
against Hitler, while Caspian sprang up in bewilderment.
'What is that?' he asked.
'Air raid,' Edmund mumbled, sitting up. 'Get some clothes on. We've got to get
down to the Anderson.'
In the distance, there was an explosion, and Caspian startled again. 'What was
that?'
'A bomb going off.'
'It sounded huge. Are we safe?'
'We'll be safe when we get down to the Anderson, so get your trousers on!'
They clattered down the stairs, Edmund carrying the new torch from his bedside
drawer, out the back door and across the back garden, down into the earth-
covered corrugated-iron shelter. Caspian banged his forehead on the low doorway
and cursed.
'Let me see,' Ed said, pushing his hair back and shining the torch on his face.
'You're all right. It's just a bump.' He made sure the door was shut, set down
the torch on the little table and set to work getting the Tilly lamp started.
More explosions crossed the night, marching nearer. Caspian sat down on one of
the benches and listened to them, his face paling so that the red mark on his
forehead stood out vividly.
The Tilly hissed into steady bright light, and Edmund clicked off the torch and
looked around. 'Where's Lu?' he said. He looked at his watch, which he had
never got around to taking off. 'It's past two in the morning. She should have
come home.'
'Should we go and look for her?' Caspian asked.
Edmund shook his head. 'We have to stay put until we hear the all clear.
Perhaps she's still at Katie's. She could have decided to stop for the night if
they didn't finish their sewing until late. But then she would have rung. I'm
sure the Glasses are on the 'phone.' 
'It's possible she tried and we didn't hear the bell,' Caspian said with a
rueful smile. The closest explosion yet sent a little shockwave through the
shelter, and the smile dropped off his face. 'Are you sure we're safe in here?'
'Unless a bomb drops right on us, yes. It's a good shelter. Peter and I piled
the earth on top with our dad, when he was home on leave. Years ago now. It was
phoney war then. Phoney fake, not phoney telephone,' he added, seeing Caspian
look puzzled. 'Before the Blitz.'
'Well, I trust your earthworks,' Caspian said with a tight smile.
'But you'd feel safer under Aslan's How,' Edmund said, smiling back. 'You know
the Battle of Beruna? The first one, Peter's one? How he had all the flying
creatures drop great rocks on the enemy ranks? He got the idea from this.' He
nodded upward. 'Of course, we used it again at the second one. Your one.'
'Great rocks don't explode, though,' Caspian pointed out. 'And you didn't drop
them over a city where people were living - and trying to sleep.'
'Well, we aren't Nazi swine,' Edmund said, shrugging. 'We've got a little
Primus in here. Do you want a cup of tea? Or cocoa?'
'It feels strange. Very helpless. That this isn't something we can fight
against, you and I.'
'I know... running out there with swords wouldn't do much good. I'm getting the
kettle on, anyway.' He got the Primus out of its box under the bench and set it
up, pouring water into the old camping kettle from the bottle they topped up
from the kitchen tap after raids were over.
'How can anyone fight against this?' Caspian asked.
'With planes of our own. Bombs of our own. And yes. We've bombed their cities.
We've had to.'
'What are they fighting for? To rule your country?' 
'To rule all countries. And be able to kill off all the sorts of people they
don't like. You remember Darwin, at the museum? Natural selection? Well, they
think that means that different races of people are like... different breeds or
species competing... and the strongest have the right to wipe out the weakest.
They think the strongest are white European people, and the weakest and lowest
are Jews, gypsies, negroes... they want to get rid of cripples, too, and
simple-minded people, and of course people who are too clever and difficult and
ask the wrong questions.'
'Like us,' Caspian said, looking ill. 'The Telmarines. Trying to wipe out the
Old Narnians.'
'Maybe a bit,' Edmund admitted. 'But with much, much more destructive power
than the Telmarines had. I hope there'll never be guns or bombs in Narnia. You
don't even have cannon, thank goodness.'
'I wish I could bring you home with me. You and Lucy. And keep you safe.'
'We've got to stop thinking like that,' Edmund said, shaking his head. He
spooned cocoa and sugar and milk powder into two mugs and poured the hot water
on, stirring hard to break up the lumps.
'I know... but I hate seeing the world you've got to live in. I always imagined
it as more wonderful. It is full of wonders, I suppose.'
'Here.' Edmund sat down next to him and gave him a mug of cocoa. 'Here's
another wonder. It's called Cadbury Bournville. Drink up.'
After the all clear sounded, they returned to the house and Edmund went to the
'phone, reasoning that while it was rude to call late at night except for an
emergency, the Glasses would be awake too, and people seldom minded one making
sure someone was all right after an air raid. The line was down, though.
'We could go and look for her now,' Caspian suggested as he hung up the
receiver.
'We'd just get in the way of people who need to be out cleaning up and putting
out fires,' Edmund said. 'Better to check up in the morning.' He caught
Caspian's disappointed look. 'Caspian. I'm not a king here. I'm not even a man.
A policeman or a fireman will just tell me to go home and stop being a
nuisance. We've got no reason to think anything has happened to Lucy, and if
something has, us running around in the dark won't help her.'
The only sensible thing to do was to go back to bed. They lay spoon-fashion,
their hands and feet cold, waiting for sleep.
 
===============================================================================
 
The 'phone was back on in the morning. Edmund tried the Glasses' number again
and felt his body go light with relief when Mrs Glass said that yes, Lucy had
stopped with them because the girls were up until all hours giggling together,
even before the raid, and now they were sleeping in to make up for it.
'That's sensible of them,' he said.
'Yes, I wish I could do likewise,' Mrs Glass said. 'Goodbye now, Edmund.'
'Goodbye.' He hung up.
'You were right,' Caspian said, giving him a half-bow.
'Thank goodness for that.' 
There was an awkwardness between them this morning. Edmund knew that he had
looked weak to Caspian, and hated it. He had still been right, but he shouldn't
have been; the world was wrong. And Lucy was a brave and sensible person who,
if she had been in any sort of difficulty last night, would almost certainly
have found her way out of it, but still, but still. He made them breakfast,
realising that they were going through the rations for the week too quickly -
after all, the book was only for two people, and they couldn't exactly get
Caspian added on. He felt shamed by that. It should help to remember that when
he and the others had arrived at Aslan's How, Caspian's side had had nothing
much to offer them but hard cheese and onions (oh, the smell in the How), but
it didn't.
They cleaned up the mess they'd left in the kitchen the night before, so Lucy
didn't have to come home to it.
'Don't look so gloomy, Ed,' Caspian said, patting his shoulder.
'I'm not gloomy, I'm just tired. Bit of a rough night.'
'It wasn't all bad, though, was it?' A coaxing smile.
'No. Until the siren it was pretty wonderful.' He leaned against Caspian, felt
comforted by how warm and solid he was.
'Are you still feeling that ghost cock inside you?' Caspian whispered in his
ear, making him snort with startled laughter. 'Ah, that's better. I love to see
you smile.'
'All right, all right.'
'What shall we do today?'
'I don't know... don't know when Lucy will be back, so...'
'Ah, so we should do something wholesome that you won't be embarrassed for her
to see. Why don't you give me another lesson on the bike?'
After several more wobbles up and down the garden path, Caspian said he thought
he could learn to balance better if he could ride for longer in one direction
without having to stop or turn round, so they went out to the street, which was
pretty quiet. Edmund got Peter's bike from the shed and they rode up and down
until he was steady.
'How do I go faster?'
'Just pedal harder. You can stand up on the pedals if you've got to get up a
hill, although that makes balancing a bit trickier. Want to ride over to the
park?'
In Victoria Park, Caspian's balance improved to the extent that it no longer
seemed unsporting for Edmund to race him. They tore up and down the paths until
they were tired, then lay on the grass by the bikes pointing out shapes in the
clouds, until a cross old man came over and shouted at them to stop making the
place look untidy and get haircuts.
At home, Lucy was back and eating a sandwich at the kitchen table - cheese and
onion. 
'Oh, Lu, your breath!' Caspian said when he bent to kiss her on the cheek.
'Make yourself one and we'll all have onion breath together,' she said
unrepentantly. 'Hallo, Ed. You need to brush your hair, it looks a sight.'
'I like Edmund's messy hair,' Caspian said. 'It makes interesting shapes on his
forehead.'
'There. My hair's perfectly all right,' Edmund said, cutting four slices of
bread.
'I think we should keep on with Caspian's education this afternoon,' said Lucy,
happily munching. 'What about the National Gallery?'
'We don't have to have educational outings every day,' Edmund said.
'But I'd like to see it,' Caspian said. 
'There, I win,' Lucy said, and patted Caspian's knee.
She held Caspian's arm as they walked around the gallery, and Edmund moped in
amongst the jewels of Western art, not because he thought Lucy was trying to
take Caspian over, just because he couldn't hang onto him in public as she
could.
In the last of the afternoon light, they went out into Trafalgar Square and
looked up at Nelson's Column. 
'He's a sea-faring hero like you,' Lucy said, bumping Caspian's shoulder
affectionately.
'I'm glad I don't have that many pigeons on me,' Caspian said.
Edmund was about to suggest that they buy a bag of breadcrumbs and feed the
pigeons when the lion on the pedestal nearest them silently got up and leapt
down. London went still around them. Even Lucy went still, which was strangest
of all. The air seemed to grow warmer.
'Caspian of Narnia,' said the lion, 'you must go home.'
'Aslan?' Caspian said uncertainly, because the lion still appeared to be made
of bronze. Its great dark paws grated on the paving stones.
'Only a shadow of him, in this place,' the lion replied. 'Come.'
'Please,' Caspian said urgently. 'I will come home, I will, I'll do my duty.
But please tell me, is there any way Edmund and I can see each other again? We
love each other.' He grabbed Edmund's hand; Edmund looked around in alarm, but
the people around them seemed to be frozen in place, like colour photographs.
'Have you stopped time?' he asked.
'Time goes on. We are slightly outside it,' the lion said. 'Does Caspian speak
for you, too?'
'He does,' Edmund said, nodding, knowing that there was no sense in trying to
hide anything even from Aslan's shadow. 'I'm in love with him.'
The lion's great head dropped a little. Its bronze face did not really move,
and Edmund could not guess at what it might be thinking. He was surprised to
find that he didn't feel afraid - not afraid that Aslan would be angry, anyway.
'Edmund, Caspian is needed in Narnia, and you are needed here. You cannot yet
know why, but this is your place. I cannot offer you a life together now.'
'I know. I'm sorry.'
'Do not be sorry that you love.' The lion lifted its head and looked to
Caspian. 'I can offer you another life, after this one is done. A life in this
world.'
'But... if I were someone else, someone new, how would we know each other?'
Caspian asked.
'And what if Caspian lived to be seventy and died and got born as a baby over
here? We'd be the wrong ages,' Edmund said. 'Or I died first and when he was
born here I was gone?'
'Edmund,' the lion said, and there was a trace of Aslan's affection in its
metallic voice. 'I think you know from your reading that time is only a mode of
thought.'
'The Psammead?' Edmund asked, confused.
'The sammy-add?' Caspian repeated, still more confused.
'You will know each other,' the lion said. 'And you will be the right ages. I
give you my promise. Now, though, you must say goodbye.'
They both knew that there was no arguing, no warding it off. Edmund felt tears
stinging in the corners of his eyes and high in his nose, his throat aching.
The sun was far too bright for the end of the day. He looked at Caspian and saw
the same thing in his face, the loneliness already. Caspian framed Edmund's
face with his hands, pressed their foreheads together.
'I love you,' he said, 'and I'm going to find you.'
'I'll be looking for you. I love you,' Edmund whispered back. He put his arms
around Caspian's shoulders and kissed him, feeling tears burn down his face and
run into the corners of his mouth. His heart beat slowly and painfully. He took
a step back.
Caspian looked dismayed. 'Ed, I don't have the torch. I left it at your house.'
Edmund blinked, thought, unfastened his watch and strapped it onto Caspian's
wrist. 'Take this. It'll be better. The torch needs batteries but this will
keep going as long as you wind it every night.'
'I don't have anything to give you. Everything I have on is Peter's.' Caspian
was blinking quickly, trying not to cry.
'Your things are still at my house, remember?' He managed to smile, just.
'Oh, Ed... hug Lucy for me, won't you?' Caspian stepped back, dropped his hands
to his sides.
'Of course I will.'
Caspian took a breath, tried to say something, said instead 'Goodbye, my
darling Ed.'
'Goodbye, Caspian.'
The sun grew brighter and sharper, and Edmund closed his eyes; he felt a warm
breath on his face, and when he opened his eyes Caspian was gone, the lion was
back on its pedestal, and Lucy was turning towards him in confusion.
'Where did Caspian...'
'Aslan took him back.'
He couldn't talk to Lucy on the way home. She held his hand and stuck close to
him, and stopped him walking into people and dogs and pillar-boxes. When they
got home he went straight up to his room. He had left Caspian's Narnian
nightclothes, his soft lawn nightshirt and embroidered velvet gown, rolled up
at the bottom of the wardrobe. He needed to wrap them around his arms and press
his face into them, breathe in Caspian's smell.
They were gone. He spent a few moments turning over shoes and tennis racquets
and things in disbelief, his breathing growing increasingly loud and panicky.
And the shoes, Father's shoes, that he had lent to Caspian, were back. And the
trousers were hanging up. But they had scraps of just-wilted grass caught in
the turn-ups, grass from Victoria Park.
At the back of the wardrobe, in a crack between the floor and the back, he
found a gold ring that Caspian had worn, had taken off because Edmund told him
it would look odd. A gold band with a dark blue oval stone, and cut into the
flat face of the stone, 'CXR.' He pressed it to his lips for a long moment,
then slipped it onto the finger he thought it would best fit, his right
forefinger, where he had worn his own seal ring as a Narnian king. A magic ring
might make its wearer invisible; this one became invisible on his hand. He
could feel it there, and see it again when he slipped it off.
He went to the bathroom and washed his face, blotted it on a towel and went
along to Lucy's room. She was sitting on her bed, her knees drawn up under her
chin, looking at the painting of the Dawn Treader. Eustace had managed to
wheedle his mother into letting Lucy have it; it hadn't taken much wheedling
because Alberta had never liked its style. Lucy kept it on the east wall of her
bedroom, with a little bowl on the bureau below it that she filled with little
treasures she found, acorns, shells, sea-glass.
Edmund sat down beside her and put his arm round her shoulders. 'I'm sorry I
couldn't talk to you before,' he said. 'You were a brick, though.'
'It's all right. I did know, but I thought I should let you choose when to tell
me,' she said, surprising him.
'I meant on the way home today,' he said. 'Do you mean you knew Caspian and
I...'
'Well, yes. You were falling in love on the Dawn Treader.'
'That's a bit embarrassing, I mean, I didn't know it showed that much.'
'It wouldn't have shown to everyone. Just me,' Lucy said. 'What happened? Was
Aslan angry?'
'Not angry. Just sad, I think. That he couldn't let us stay together. I suppose
there's some great plan that even he can't change.'
'I'm glad. I didn't think he'd be angry. It wouldn't be fair.' Lucy gave him a
wan little smile. 
'And you're not angry either? Or disappointed or... disgusted?'
'Edmund,' she said, her smile broadening, 'in the Golden Age, I was in love
with a faun. I don't care who anyone falls in love with as long as they really,
really love them.'
'A faun? You mean Tumnus? I - I don't remember that.' He was blindsided.
'Nor did I at first. I don't think I could really remember it as a little girl.
The feeling of being in love... it's in your body as well as your mind. The
memory came back as I grew up again, just lately. I wonder what else we don't
remember?'
'Did you... I mean... did he love you too?'
'Yes... everything changed when I grew up. He was so worried about it at first,
in case I thought there'd been something nasty about how fond of me he always
was. There was nothing nasty about him, though, ever. I knew that. He asked me
to marry him the day before we disappeared... we came back. I asked to think
about it. I'd made up my mind to say yes, and to tell the rest of you together,
that night when we got back from our hunt. I was so happy, Ed.'
'Oh, Lu.' He leaned his head against hers.
'But it's all right. You and Caspian will find each other again, and so will
we. I have dreams, you know, where we're walking together in a garden, arm in
arm, and he's mine, and I'm his. And he looks down at me and smiles, and he
says "This is not a memory. This is yet to be." I know it's true. And I know
it's here.'
'How?'
'Well, for one thing, he's got feet not hooves.' She laughed softly.
'That does seem like a good sign.'
 
===============================================================================
[Extract from the 1995 memoirs of Sir Edmund Pevensie, The Other Sir Edmund.]
Following my National Service, I was told that I was an excellent candidate for
officer training. I could hardly have been happier or more proud. Sandhurst now
preferred university graduates, so I was encouraged to pursue a degree that
would be relevant, and accordingly went to Cambridge to read history, with a
particular focus on military history.
I was conducted to my study by an ancient and cantankerous college porter, who
held forth at some length on the faults he found with the man with whom I would
be sharing the study - that he was a foreigner, that he had silly hair, that he
looked far too pleased with himself.
The porter opened the door, gave me my key, I walked in and there, reading the
Odyssey by the window, with a National Service haircut a little older than mine
growing out over his collar, was Caspar Koenig, and I fell in love with him,
and he with me.
I say that I fell in love with him, and he with me. The love between us was
romantic, sexual, friendly, brotherly, many-layered. I say this clearly and
emphatically because I do not wish it to be in any way misunderstood. I have
been praised many times for my achievements as a warrior and as a peacemaker,
for Korea, for Vietnam, for Afghanistan. If anyone wishes to withdraw their
praise because these were the achievements of a practising homosexual, let
them, for I neither need nor seek their approval any more. I fell in love with
him, and he with me.
Caspar was of mixed Polish and German parentage, and though Jewish by birth,
had not been raised in any religion until he came to Britain as a refugee,
smuggled out by his terrified parents just before war broke out in earnest. He
had lived with a vicar and his family and, as well as becoming a naturalised
citizen, he had been confirmed in the Church of England. He had come to
Cambridge to read Classics, with no very clear idea of what he would do next,
only that he wanted to find some way to serve his adopted nation.
I did not feel as if I was meeting him; I felt as if I was recognising him, as
if our hearts already knew each other quite intimately. In a way of which I do
not expect to be able to convince you, I believe that this was true.
[The curious thing about this description is that, from private journals and
papers inherited by Sir Edmund's niece Sylvia Ness, it is quite clear that he
was not meeting Caspar Koenig for the first time at Cambridge in 1950. In both
a letter to his sister and confidant, Dr Lucy Ness, and a contemporary diary,
he writes 'C is here!!!' with an emphatic underlining and with a small three-
pointed crown drawn over the C. No explanation has ever been forthcoming for
when and how they had previously met, but one assumes it was during the war,
perhaps as evacuees, since there is no record of their having served together
in their National Service.
The diary's description of the Cambridge meeting is both more disorganised and
in some respects more detailed. 'Lu and Tom' are Lucy and her husband the
composer Tom Ness, Peter their elder brother, later Baron Pevensie, Su their
sister, the designer Susanne P, Eustace the entomologist and environmentalist
Dr E.C. Scrubb, a cousin. The 'HER' mentioned has never been identified,
although it may be significant that it is followed by a small star.]
C is here!!! C!!! He knows me! As soon as the door was shut safe we were on
each other and kissed and fucked on the floor quite shamelessly. I'm taller
than him now. He's still C (C again?). Same face same eyes same hair same hands
same cock I love him love him love him so. Showed him the ring. He has the
watch. He bought it in a pawn-shop. Showed him where it had a little 'EP' that
I scratched on the back of the case with my compasses. Both cried gave thanks
etc.
He can't remember much. Maybe that's best. He remembers all about ME and US but
not about life with HER. Told him about Lu and Tom, Peter in RAF, Su in USA,
Eustace's ants. Want to remember I am writing this in bed, he's sleeping beside
me, he's smiling in his sleep, I love him. Bum hurts like billy-oh, must get
Vaseline. GOOD NIGHT.
End Notes
     Oh, and then lamamama asked me what I thought happened after
     Cambridge, and I couldn't be bothered to turn it into a real story,
     BUT:
     Edmund really, really wants to go into the Army and be an officer,
     and I’m down with that, I feel it’s a logical direction for the
     character to go in. I’m not sure Caspian would want to do that if it
     weren’t what Ed is going to do - I think he might follow him in that
     direction so that they can be together, because if he follows some
     other career seeing each other is going to be awfully difficult, and
     he’s going to worry about him going off to dangerous places without
     him, and of course feel that he’s not doing his part or serving his
     country or generally being enough of a man by comparison.
     And he can do it well - it’s just that sometimes he gets a bit fed up
     and wishes he was a boatbuilder or something. While they’re at
     university they take turns going to each other’s people for the
     holidays, and they always spend summers where Caspian grew up with
     his foster family in the Lake District. His foster mother decided to
     help him assimilate to English culture by giving him the Swallows and
     Amazons books, and his foster father the vicar taught him to sail in
     a dinghy just like the boats in that series. So they sail around
     Windermere and Coniston Water and camp on little islands and sleep
     under the stars and are very, very happy in those early days.
     Edmund has to retire from active service after some serious wounds
     sustained in Vietnam, and once physically recovered, works in the
     diplomatic service. Although Caspian was horribly worried about him
     when he was badly hurt, he actually finds this quite a relief, as it
     gives him the opportunity to change directions too. He returns to
     England, spends a lot of time on the water, opens a sailing school
     and works with the Sea Scouts. Sometimes he travels with Edmund, but
     much of the time he just lives in a flat that they share (on the
     fiction that it’s convenient for Edmund to come back to a place that
     is kept up for him, and there’s someone to look after his dogs when
     he has to go overseas).
     They’re out to most of their families and some close friends, but
     generally keep their real relationship quiet and avoid situations
     that could expose them (Susan likes to say that because she works in
     fashion and has done a lot of costume design for theatre and film,
     she knows more gay people than they do). This is a source of tension
     for a long time, as it goes against the grain for both of them to be
     dishonest about anything, particularly something close to their
     hearts, but because of their military service and Edmund’s subsequent
     diplomatic career and the fact that Caspian works with kids, they
     don’t feel they can safely go public until he retires to write his
     memoirs, which cause something of a stir but ultimately are hailed as
     a brave move (and a good story besides).
     Neither of them had any children, but they were always very close to
     Edmund’s nephews and nieces, particularly Lucy and Tom’s girls, and
     enjoyed being part of a family that way. In the summer holidays they
     took the kids on sailing and camping trips and taught them all about
     knots and woodcraft and things, and told them Narnia stories. They
     died old and happy, a few weeks apart, and left a lot of money to the
     Battersea Dogs’ Home and Stonewall.
     Oh, AND? As a doctor, Lucy cured cancer. All the kinds. And one day
     Susan was coming out of her fabulous designer's apartment in the
     Dakota building when she saw a man drawing a gun and she tackled him
     and totally saved John Lennon's life. And of course because of Lucy's
     work George Harrison didn't die. So the world still has a full set of
     Beatles well into the twenty-first century and it is all thanks to
     the Pevensie girls. AND THEY WORE LIPSTICK IF THEY FELT LIKE IT, CS
     LEWIS.
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