Title: He Revels in Him
Author: menacherie Pairings/Characters
: Edmund/Bacchus Rating
: PG-13Word Count
: The three times that Edmund looses his virginity.Disclaimer
: I don't own any of the characters you recognize at all.1.
Edmund should be at the festivities.
He should be dancing with the delegates and the lords and ladies and dukes that have come from all around. If he wasn't at the festivities then he should at the very least be going over today's correspondence, or looking over the list of new recruits for the air guard, or possibly even thinking up a good test for his spies. Instead of all the things he should be doing, he is enjoying a night out in the gardens.
He is alone, except for Kouak, who is a respectable distance behind him. Suddenly, he can feel the tension cut through the air and Kouak's hackles raise.
“Sir,” Kouak begins to say, but Edmund holds up his hand. This tension he recognizes. “It's only Bacchus, Kouak.” He says as his eyes search the myriad of flowers in front of him for the easily recognizable form of Bacchus. Kouak nods and retreats back a bit as Edmund catches sight of the god.
The god has chosen a younger body today, closer to Edmund's own rather than his usual adult appearance. It throws Edmund off a bit and he tilts his head as he takes in the god.
“What brings you to appear to me tonight when both Lucy and the wine are both inside the castle walls?” Edmund asks him tiredly. Bacchus always has a way with him that annoys and tires Edmund.
Bacchus titters a bit before moving to stand, having already ruined a flowerbed from laying about in it. He sways for a moment and drapes himself over Edmund. Edmund's face sours, as usual, the other man has absolutely no boundaries and is drunk.
He finally speaks after nuzzling Edmund's neck. “Silly little king.” He slurs into Edmund's ear. “You're out here and you're always just so much fun.”
Edmund stiffens as the god's breath flutters against his ear. He shakes his head though and rolls his eyes as he tries to disentangle himself from Bacchus. “Silly little god.” He murmurs and leads him to the bench.
Bacchus makes a sound of protest and pushes Edmund onto the bench and straddles Edmund's lap. He starts to nuzzle Edmund's neck again, murmuring nonsense into his collarbone. Edmund once more rolls his eyes and just pats the god on the back. He doesn't try moving again, the god can act as a barnacle during times like this. He settles in for the wait, Bacchus won't take too long to pass out.
Moments later however, a strangled noise flies from Edmund's throat when Bacchus starts to suck on spot that he was speaking into only a moment before. Edmund's hands scrabble for a hold on Bacchus's hips, trying to push him away but the tanned god takes this as encouragement and grinds his hips downward, making Edmund see stars and gasp out profanities.
“B-Bacchus.” He hisses and then cries out when a twist of Bacchus's hips has him burying his head into the crook of his neck and thrusting his own hips up.
This action earns him a laugh, and Edmund snaps his head up to look at Bacchus, who has a gleam in his eye and a completely sober look about him. Edmund glares then. “You.” He snarls out.
“Oh yes me.” But, before Edmund can tear into him for his actions, there is another twist of hips and this time instead of burying his head into a shoulder his cry is muffled by lips on his own. Edmund moans into the kiss and doesn't even startle when a hand starts to fiddle with the string of his breeches.
Much much later he comes back to the party with a red face and a smug god on his arm. Edmund denies everything, but seems to forget that a cat with ears was near by for quite some time. Cats are horrible gossips after all, and don't really understand the need for privacy that their monarchs prefer when it comes to their sex lives.
Edmund has been in a foul mood ever since they stumbled upon the ruins of Cair Paravel. Those ruins mean that everything he once held dear is long gone and dead to this world. Such a thing would throw a lesser man into a depression, but Edmund puts on his court mask and hides behind it with ease. It is something he has hid behind for most of his first life.
In front of their subjects and Caspian, he is King Edmund the Just, a king of legends. They do not realize that their King Edmund is in a horridly foul mood. His siblings are all wallowing in their own grief to see how foul of a mood he is in, and to be honest, they're all in foul moods too.
Instead of trying to take care of his feelings, he takes the time to relearn how to use a sword, how to fight, anything to keep his mind off of the events from his past.
Like Lucy though, he keeps chasing after phantom gods. Though, instead of searching for Aslan, his whole body is on the lookout for a head of wild hair, tanned skin and the smell of wine.
Every night when the Narnians sit around the fire and drink their wines and ales, Edmund stands at the edges of the clearing, fists clenched in anticipation. He is waiting for the twang in the air that signals that something more worldly than he is near. The feeling never comes.
By Caspian's coronation, he has given up on finding his god.
So when he finally feels the tension enter the air in a way that's all Bacchus, his back stiffens and he drops his wine glass. He doesn't care that eyes follow him as he stalks his way through the halls of the unfamiliar castle. He follows the completely obvious signs until there is a tanned arm tugging him into an alcove and then lips on his own. Edmund drowns in the kiss for moments until he realizes what is happening. He pulls back, furious.
Before he can stop himself Edmund has punched the god and then tackled him. “How dare you.” He snarls. “How dare you come to me now.” He punches the god again, but Bacchus easily flips him and pins him down. Edmund struggles against the hand that is keeping his hands above his head. “Don't touch me.” Edmund snaps and bites at Bacchus when he goes in for another kiss. “I waited for you.” He's horrified with himself when he admits this.
“Everyone else was gone and you could have come at any moment and I needed you and you weren't there.” Edmund is still furious, and Bacchus hasn't spoken at all.
“Where where you?” He finally demands of him.
Bacchus looks just as broken as Edmund does. “You left me.” He whispers then. “I couldn't.” He starts to say and then shakes his head and lets go of Edmund's hands. “I thought I could just wait until you left again but I couldn't let you leave without seeing you again.”
Edmund stares at Bacchus before he surges up and kisses him. There is still anger under this, but also something else that if pressed, both will deny or refuse.
When they are done, Edmund goes back to the party, and avoids Susan's knowing look and Caspian's confused one. Lucy and Peter give him pitying looks, but he walks through the tree with his head held high.
He doesn't let himself cry until he's alone that night in his dorms. He doesn't really care if his new dorm mates think he's a cry baby.
The third time he looses his virginity he is in England. He is in a pub, his eyes on the look out for something, anything that will catch his eye. It is fall in London, and the wind is battering through coats to chill you to the bone.
The door opens and Edmund looks up and the breath catches in his throat. At the door is a boy that can’t be much older than himself. His skin is a tan that can’t be achieved through natural means in London. His hair is curled and he can see the olive colored eyes from his tucked away corner in the back. A huge wind blasts a few leaves into the opening of the door as the boy closes it behind him, and some get suck in his hair.
Edmund doesn’t bother to learn the boy’s name as he buys him a drink. He is shaking as he follows the boy with the sly smile into the bathroom and locks the door behind him.
When he leaves, there is no one to give him a pitying look, and no smug god on his arm. He does not go home and cry. He goes home and finds that Eustace has been back to Narnia with his friend Jill. His face becomes a mask that he has found again in England.