When they finally managed to pull themselves away from each other at the park, Murtagh was panting, his black hair ruffled, his cheeks flushed and contrasting sharply with the rest of his skin. A dazed expression had attached itself to his face – Eragon was much the same, his hair just was ruffled, his cheeks just as pink.

"W-we need to get home," Murtagh muttered, eyes still fixed on Eragon's lips, lifting up to examine the brunet's soft brown eyes.

"Yeah," Eragon breathed. Both of them were fixated by the other's gaze. After a long moment, Eragon managed to look away, and Murtagh seemed to snap out of it and move away so that he was no longer trapping Eragon against the tree. Eragon stumbled slightly, and Murtagh reflexively caught his arm. Tugging him back upright, Murtagh motioned in the direction of his car, and kept his protective grip on Eragon's arm.

When they reached it, Murtagh paused, then shivered slightly, a sudden thought occurring to him. Eragon stopped, feeling Murtagh stop behind him, and started to turn around as Murtagh suddenly acted impulsively, reaching past him and yanking open the back seat door. Eragon hesitated, surprised, but Murtagh didn't wait for him to react – the older teen simply spun his brother around, kissed him, wrapped his arm's around Eragon's waist, and carefully guided him down to the seat so that Eragon was lying on his back and Murtagh was straddling him.

Eragon broke off the kiss, giving Murtagh a puzzled look. Murtagh didn't even bother to answer, just leaned down and kissed him again – he couldn't get enough of Eragon, couldn't feel enough of those soft lips, could never be satisfied with any amount he got of his brother.

It was beautiful, it was so very wrong and wickedly right, so perfectly wonderful. Eragon was just Eragon, human yet perfect, and now Eragon was his, just like he had been Eragon's this entire time.

Was it possible to feel this right, when you were kissing your brother?

No, not my brother, Murtagh realized. There are things more important than DNA. Roran is Eragon's brother, just like Morzan isn't my father, and just like Garrow is Eragon's father. That's how it works.

"Eragon," Murtagh said quietly, staring down at his bro – no, boyfriend. Eragon was his boyfriend now.

"Hmm?" Eragon murmured, staring back and admiring the handsome creature above him. Oh, but he wanted to reach up and touch that pale skin, caress it and kiss it and worship it. On impulse he did, raising his right hand to lightly brush Murtagh's cheek.

Murtagh smiled at the touch, taking the hand gently and kissing it. "How far are you willing to let me go with you?"

Eragon froze, just now beginning to realize the implications and possibilities now in front of him.

Murtagh was his boyfriend. That meant… all those fantasies, those were open to him. And Murtagh was open to doing things with him return. But did that mean he was obligated? Did Murtagh expect him to –

Did he want to? Eragon swallowed, thinking of a dream he'd had recently. If that was any evidence, he most certainly did. But he'd never done anything before. And Murtagh had. How was he supposed to hold his own against someone who had experience, someone older and knew just where to touch –

Eragon shivered at the thought.

Murtagh's voice cut through his thoughts. "I didn't mean to freak you out or anything, I won't push you."

Eragon blinked.

Murtagh rose, face carefully blank again. "I didn't mean… sorry." He calmly stepped away from the back seat door, motioning for Eragon to step out. "Let's go home."

Eragon just stared at him for a moment. Then he felt something tug at him – a little twitch of a thought, that little inner voice that, as usual, sounded too much like Saphira.

Idiot, it snapped. Look what you did. Now he's going to clam up again and put that mask back on just when you got it off. Attack him while he's down – don't let him start acting emotionless again. Force him out!

So Eragon did the only thing he could think of. He calmly got up, stepped out of the car, shut the back seat door, and got in the passenger. Murtagh was already in the driver's seat, lost in thought.

"Garrow isn't going to be home from work until about noon, right?" Eragon asked casually.

"Yeah," Murtagh muttered, starting the car.

"And Roran's still with Katrina, visiting her aunt." Eragon began to consider the possibilities. So many things could happen in an empty house with thick walls.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Just wondering."


Eragon moaned as he was shoved up against the door, Murtagh kissing him with more force than he had ever considered anyone capable of. He panted, shivering under his boyfriend's touch, and biting his lips to fight back the whimpers and gasps that tore at his throat. A soft whine made it's escape as Murtagh bit down at his neck – that one noise broke Eragon's resistance, and all thoughts of keeping quiet escaped him.

"Oh god," he whimpered as Murtagh's hand slid under his shirt.

Murtagh pulled away slightly, breathing heavily. "Eragon," he growled. "You're pushing your luck." He leaned in closely, his lips brushing Eragon's ear lobe, his hot breath licking at the sensitive skin there. "You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now."

Eragon shivered again. As tempted as he was to just say, "go ahead", he had to think this out. He'd jumped Murtagh as soon as they were in the house, but that'd been more on impulse than anything else – now he was having second thoughts.

Did he really want to do this?

His virginity. Something precious, something he could never give again.

Was he really willing to go that far for Murtagh? To put his very being at risk, to expose his vulnerability to someone who had shown little sympathy for anyone in the past?

If Eragon did do it, then Murtagh could still leave him, just abandon him and break him.

Would Murtagh just fuck someone then throw them away? Yes, he'd done before, albeit the fact he'd made it clear to them before that was what was going to happen. Murtagh made no secret that the nights he didn't come home he was out screwing some stranger. And while the older teen had been in relationships before, they never lasted longer than a month.

He wouldn't do that to me, Eragon told himself firmly. He's always made it clear to his interests that he's not interested beyond sex, and he's made it clear to me he won't push to do this.

As Murtagh bent down and kissed his boyfriend, his Eragon, again, their hands slipped down, and Murtagh's slightly larger hand squeezed Eragon's reassuringly. A promise, if a silent one, that he wouldn't take it too far.

Eragon's eyes slid shut as he enjoyed the sensation of lips, tongue, and, every once in a while, teeth. He doesn't want to hurt me, he's not going to leave me if I do. Besides, he needs this, and so do I.

"Eragon," Murtagh said, pulling away again, "you can stop me, don't you realize that?"

"Who says I want you to stop?" Eragon mumbled, tugging Murtagh closer again.

Murtagh shook his head and refused to move. "You're not doing anything. If you wanted me kissing you like this, you'd be more enthusiastic. You don't have to lie."

Eragon glared at him. He'd spent the last few minutes arguing with himself over he wanted, and now that he'd finally figured it out, Murtagh was going to tell him he was wrong? "I know what I want," he retorted.

"You don't understand what I want, then," Murtagh hissed, cheeks flushing. "If we go much farther than this, I'm not going to be able to control myself – "

"Then don't," Eragon told him. He took a deep breath and took the plunge – he reached down, fingers curling around the bulge in Murtagh's pants that had slowly grown in the last few minutes.

Murtagh's breath hitched and his eyes widened, his grip on Eragon's hands tightening. "W-what," he gasped. "Why the hell – "

Eragon massaged Murtagh's erection roughly, and the older teen moaned, all but collapsing against him. The brunet curled his free arm around Murtagh's waist, enjoying the feeling of their skin almost touching, separated only by cloth. He let himself moan softly as well – Murtagh's pleasure was leaking into him, the noises of their combined breathing and the moans, as well as the knowledge of how aroused he was making his boyfriend, was invading his senses and making him even harder than he was before.

"Eragon," Murtagh panted, shuddering with pleasure. His eyes were clouded with lust. "Er-a-gon…"

After a moment of almost painful tension, Eragon not knowing quite what he was doing and just playing it by ear, and Murtagh almost completely out of his mind, Murtagh seemed to snap out of it.

"What the hell," he moaned, feebly struggling against his supposedly naïve and shy little brother, "are you doing?"

"Isn't that kind of obvious?" Eragon replied huskily.

Murtagh managed to push himself away, though it took every ounce of self-control he had left. "You don't know what you're doing. Don't expect me to be able to hold back, I don't want to end up forcing you – "

"Dammit, Murtagh, if you tell me one more time to stop, I really will." Eragon's eyes were fierce as he spoke. "You can't force the willing."

Murtagh's eyes widened slightly. Then, without any more hesitation, he yanked himself out of Eragon's grip, easily reached down and picked the younger male up, then proceeded to carry him, bridal-style, to their room, where they stayed for the rest of the night. Doing what, pray tell?

Not sleeping, that's for sure.


Eragon awakened to the annoying, chirpy sound of his cell phone going on in the pocket of his now ruined jeans. Groaning a protest, he moved to slid off the bed and grab it, but wasn't allowed to move. An arm was firmly around his waist.

He smiled, squirming against Murtagh's hold. "Wake up, will you? Someone's calling me."

Murtagh only tightened his embrace. "Leave it," he growled in Eragon's ear.

Eragon shook his head. "If it's Saphira, she's going to be mad."

"Let her be. Stay."

"Murtagh," Eragon said firmly, "I have to…"

Murtagh licked his neck, then nipped at it lightly. Eragon's protest trailed off into a whine as Murtagh continued the attack. When Murtagh finally stopped playing with the skin there, the phone was silent.

"Murtagh," Eragon protested weakly.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Eragon opened his mouth to retort that yes, he most certainly did, when Murtagh reached up with one hand and lightly tweaked a nipple. All that came out was a whimper.

"Well, too bad, because we have to get up," Murtagh announced, smirking evilly and rising from the bed.

"Bastard," Eragon muttered, following him off the bed. He yawned and swiftly retrieved the cell phone from the pocket of his ruined jeans. "Shoot, it was Saphira."

Murtagh shrugged. "So? How is she more important than kissing?"

Eragon rolled his eyes and tugged on a pair of pants, then went to the closet and pulled on a shirt at random. His phone rang again.

This time he flipped it open before Murtagh attempted to prevent him from answering. "Hello?"

"Eragon? It's Saphira."

"Of course it is," Eragon replied. He glanced at Murtagh, who was listening curiously, and made no move towards the bathroom.

"How did it go?"

"We're together and happy."

There was a brief silence, then Saphira asked, "Can I talk to him for a moment?"

"Sure." Eragon tossed the phone to Murtagh, who caught it. "She wants to talk to you."

Murtagh scowled – he and Saphira had never gotten along. "H'llo?" he said flatly into the phone.

Murtagh was silent, listening. Then, after a long moment, he smiled ever-so-slightly. "You have my permission. In fact, please tell Thorn he can help you uphold that promise of yours." He tossed the phone back to Eragon.

"What'd she say?" he asked curiously, not putting the phone back ear yet.

"I believe her exact words were 'hurt him and I hurt you'." Murtagh laughed and went into the bathroom. After a moment, Eragon heard the shower start.

Eragon put the phone back to his ear. "What was that about?"

"We now have an agreement. I'll trust him with you, but if he does anything funny, he's dead. Sound okay to you?"

Eragon rolled his eyes. "Overprotective as ever."

"If I didn't keep you out of trouble, no one would. By the way, I want the whole story tomorrow, and Zak, Thorn, and Arya probably are, too."

"Tomorrow? You're not demanding it today?"

"It's nine o'clock at night."

Eragon's eyes widened, then chuckled. "Tomorrow, then. 'night." He snapped the cell phone shut, smiling.

He was about to turn around when an arm gripped him around the waist. "Let's say you join me in the shower, huh?" Murtagh breathed in his ear.