Mirror Mirror

Edmund finds Tumnus asleep in their bed, curled into a ball, as usual, at the far edge of the mattress. He is wearing a string of river-pebbles wound around his waist, with a posy of wild narcissi drooping sadly from it. His garlands are gone.

King Edmund has his own tokens - a wooden pendant in the shape of an oak leaf hangs at his breast, and his wrist bears an ornamental strip woven of flax and beads. There is a reminiscent smile on his face as he fingers his wrist lightly.

The sun is rising out of the woods as he strips off his raiment and throws himself bonelessly onto the bed beside his lover where he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

He wakes to the tickle of a soft beard at his neck. "Tumnus," he groans, welcoming the graze of teeth and lips over his neck and collarbone.

"Did you have a good night, my liege?" Tumnus' voice is amused and holds promises of further delights.

"Mmmm-hmmm," Edmund grants, "Lovely. You?"

"Delightful. And all the more so because I knew that I was coming home to you."

Edmund opens dark, drowned eyes and smiles lazily, offering his neck - or anything else Tumnus might want - for further ravishment. "All worn out?"

"For you, my king, I will make the effort."

Which deserves tickling, if only Edmund could bestir himself, but it was a long, energetic night and he really can't. Instead he pokes out his tongue at Tumnus and allows his eyes to droop closed again. Tumnus settles at his side, lazily kissing his way from the collarbone in a meandering trail which takes in both Edmund's nipples, his bellybutton and pretty much every point south of his hipbones and north of his knees. Edmund whimpers and shivers, cradled in the sensual web Tumnus is building until at last the drifting sea of pleasure narrows to one hot flashpoint and he calls out in surprise as he spends into Tumnus' smug mouth.

"Reclaiming what's yours," he diagnoses with satisfaction, and tugs Tumnus up to lie twined with him, dozing on crisp clean sheets in the spring sunlight.

* * *

As the sun gains the meridien Edmund wakes to a soft knock at the door. He slips his tunic on and opens the door to find Lucy with a tray of food. "I thought you might be hungry," she says, slipping inside and handing him the tray.

 He is, but he is also aware that she is only twelve, and he is not in a fit state for visitors. Completely unselfconscious, she perches on a carved chest and bites into an apple. "So how was it?" she asks blithely.

 He runs an awkward hand through his hair, finding it filled with pollen and petals. "Um... Good. It was really good."

 "Can I go next year?"

 The gleam in her eye tells him that she has already tried this question on Peter and received an unequivocal "No". As the youngest pair Edmund and Lucy often work together to overturn unreasonable edicts of their elder siblings, but Edmund suddenly feels the four-year divide between them yawn wide. "I don't think that's a good idea, Lucy," he says reluctantly.

 "But Clio went this year," Lucy protests. Clio is the ten-year-old daughter of their master-at arms, and Edmund can't imagine that her parents would have let her near the revelry.

 Tumnus' voice comes from the bed. "Clio went for the dancing but she was home well before dusk, Your Majesty."

 "Oh. Well could I do that then?"

 Tumnus' eyes meet Edmund's across the room. "Perhaps," he says. "I'll find out whether that would be suitable."

 Lucy bites into her apple again, somewhat appeased. "Peter's being all stuffy about it," she says. Edmund thinks of the things he saw - and did - last night and feels rather more in sympathy with Peter than he has for a while.

 "Your time will come, Lu," he says, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "You won't be twelve forever."

 "Its a rotten age," Lucy grumbles.

 Edmund tilts his head at her and grins, affecting a mock wheedling tone. "Do me a favour, Lu?"

 "What is it?" she dimples back.

 "Could you ask Aliana to organise a bath for me?"

 Lucy knows she's being fobbed off but Edmund does rather look as if he spent the night rolling in a pile of leaves.

 "Alright. But don't forget to ask about next year?"

 "I won't."

Erm. That was rather more chaste than I had intended this chapter to be. Sorry. Next time...