Warning: chapter contains sexual content. That means lemon 'n lime.

-----------------------------------

Chapter 6: Twisted Daydreams

They flew long and hard, Saphira's wings pumping the air with desperation until at long last Eragon could feel her strength begin to fail.

They'd flown for what felt like days, but, from the position of the sun, had only been a few hours. After the first few minutes, Eragon had begun to shiver; a while later, his limbs had become numb and stiff. Now he shook violently, his fingers almost frozen as they clutched at Saphira's spikes. His entire body ached, since it had been a while since he had ridden anything, especially a dragon.

When at last Saphira's pace slowed, Eragon pressed his cheek against her rough hide. Saphira.

Yes, little one?

Land.

She did not reply, but they began to drop through the air. When they finally touched down in a small clearing in the middle of a forest, Eragon slid off Saphira and allowed himself to land on his back, wincing as he did. He shook still, and curled up into a ball; his thin clothes were no protection against the chill of early winter. Saphira curled around him, pressing her stomach against his shivering form. Are you well? she asked. They did not injure you in that prison, did they? Did Galbatorix damage your mind?

No. He would have, but you came. He pressed himself against her more fully, enjoying her presence for the first time in weeks. How did you find me?

Saphira was silent for a moment. I… I'm not sure. When I still couldn't contact you after nearly two days, I realized it wasn't because you were blocking me out, it was because you were cut off from me. She nuzzled him gently. Little one, I thought you were dead!

If I were, you would have felt it, Eragon said, stroking her muzzle. And dragons don't normally survive their Rider's death, remember?

I wasn't very rationale at the time. When Nasuada came to tell me you still had not returned, I felt as if my suspicions were confirmed. I felt as if I wished to die… Eragon, you promised me once that you would never again go into danger where I could not protect you.

I know. I remember. You told me if I did, you'd tie me to your back and never let me off. Eragon smiled at the memory of a happier, if just as desperate, time.

Yes.

But how did you find me? Eragon asked again.

I felt something to the north of the Varden's base in Surda. I followed it, and found Shruikan. Her tone seethed with rage as she spoke the name. The beast. The stink of his corruption infuriated me – so I attacked him, to make him pay for what he master had done. I once felt pity for him, but no more! A twisted, foul creature is he.

Eragon agreed, then closed his eyes. You're angry with me, he said after a moment.

Yes. But I am more relieved that you are alive than furious that you're an idiot.

Eragon smiled wryly.

Now rest, Eragon, Saphira urged.

Shruikan will catch up with us.

I will only let you sleep a little while, then. I will stand guard and wake you when I think he may be close to finding us, if he searches at all. He may have returned to his master.

If only one of us sleeps, it should be you. You're the one doing the flying, not me.

Saphira snorted.We dragons have far more endurance than little humans such as yourself.

Egotist.

Fool, she replied fondly. Now rest.

--------

He awoke to darkness. He shivered as his eyes flickered open – it was so very cold, nearly unbearable. With a jolt he realized why – Saphira was no longer pressing against him. He sat up and scanned his surroundings.

She was nowhere nearby, and he couldn't sense her. Why? She had promised to protect him. He called out to her aloud, and frowned as the name left his lips. It sounded strange, different – not normally how he said Saphira's name. Twisted, warped… had it been another name entirely? He tried again, and again the name felt strange.

Then he paused, realizing something. It was not Saphira he sought, because the name was obviously not Saphira's. Normally, this would have made sense to him, but he found himself accepting it as if it were something he'd known all along. No, he sought someone far different - a man? Hazel eyes, dark hazel eyes in a pale, handsome face. That was the man he called for.

He shivered at the thought of the man, feeling something awaken within himself. A hard, warm feeling, making his heart pound and his finger tips tingle as if anticipating caressing that pale skin.

Again, he said the name. It came out clumsily, but it somehow it felt right.

There was no response. He stumbled upright, leaning against a nearby tree. Why was he here, all alone? He shouted the name this time, while silently pleading for its owner to appear. When no one did, he fell to his knees. It was so cold, so very cold, so very empty here. He felt as if there were a gaping hole in his chest, like his heart had been missing his entire life and he had just now noticed. Again, he called out.

Someone touched his shoulder.

He jerked away, stumbling onto the ground and landing on his back, staring up at the man who touched him. The man's hazel eyes gleamed, but he didn't speak.

"Murtagh. I've been looking for you," Eragon said quietly.

"I know." Murtagh's eyes didn't so much as flicker; he held the brunet's gaze unflinchingly. Those hazel eyes burned with something Eragon could not identify, nor look away from. The older man didn't move, but after a moment, he broke eye contact to examine Eragon carefully.

Eragon swallowed, then licked his lips. "Murtagh," he said hoarsely. A plea, for something he could neither understand nor put into words.

Murtagh's eyes once again met his, then he moved forward, sliding to the ground as he did. Eragon laid motionless as Murtagh, now on his hand and knees, straddled him. "What are you - " Eragon stammered.

Murtagh pressed a finger to his lips, a sly look in his eyes. "Hush," he said simply.

Eragon allowed a small pant to escape his lips, unable to deny his arousal as Murtagh's eyes again raked down his body appreciatively. Eragon allowed his eyes to flicker shut as callused fingers caressed his cheek, then neck… then moving to the hem of his shirt. They stopped there, and fingered the cloth almost absentmindedly; Eragon opened his eyes again, to see Murtagh smirking at him, making no move to continue. Eragon began to form words of protest, but instead, his breath hitched in his throat as Murtagh's agile fingers slid lower.

But they only went so low. Eragon whimpered as they slid out again, only to dip back in briefly; still smirking, Murtagh brushed his hand against Eragon's now obvious need, before quickly pulling away.

"Murtagh," Eragon choked out. His shuddered in pleasure as Murtagh continued to touch him, enjoying every bit of the attention the older man was paying him, no matter how surreal it was. Murtagh was acting so strangely, and Saphira was gone... what was...

But these pesky thoughts vanished as Murtagh's hand moved even lower, in an even more teasing manner; Eragon groaned. "Hm?" Murtagh whispered tauntingly.

Eragon didn't bother to answer. Instead he reached for his own belt, feeling relief as he heard the satisfying 'clink' of it unbuckling as he fumbled with it. He couldn't take anymore of this tension.

Murtagh snatched his hand away, pinning it the ground. "Oh no you don't," he hissed, hot breath tickling Eragon's cheek. He quickly grabbed the other hand as well, pining them above Eragon's head and holding them there with one hand. Eragon gasped as Murtagh's free hand curled around his now free erection and began to tease the very tip of it with his thumb. Eragon's back arched, and his hips moved up to press harder into that wonderful heat.

But no.

Murtagh, like the bastard he was, had let go.

Both Eragon's hands and throbbing shaft were now free of Murtagh's grip. Eragon began to pull his hands down in another attempt to relieve himself, but they were still held in place - Murtagh had bound him? How?

But all his questions vanished as Murtagh tugged the unbuckled pants down the rest of the way and began to delicately licked the head of Eragon's shaft, causing his victim to gasp. Cautiously, teasingly, Murtagh licked and kissed him, drawing out soft moans; Eragon pulled at his bonds, wanting nothing more than release and knowing that Murtagh probably wouldn't allow that any time soon. Just when Eragon though he could cum without Murtagh fully engulfing him, the older man pulled away.

And, without warning, he swallowed the hard flesh completely.

Eragon cried out as Murtagh's tongue viciously - wonderfully! - caressed him. He writhed in the grass, eyes shut tightly and spots dancing before his eyes, going higher and higher until at last -

Again, Murtagh pulled away.

Eragon groaned in frustration. "Murtagh, damn it, let me cum," he panted. Murtagh laughed.

"Not a chance, Shadeslayer," he breathed. He moved so that he was no longer in between Eragon's legs, but was now straddling him again. Eragon's shirt was then torn straight down the middle, then the sleeves; after that, Murtagh simply yanked it off him and tossed it away.

Just as delicately as he had done before, Murtagh licked one of Eragon nipples. When there was no reaction, Murtagh bit down on it, then began to swirl his tongue roughly across the pebbled surface; Eragon began to tremble, not sure of how much more of this torture he could take. He wanted Murtagh to just let him cum already. He bit his lip, holding back a moan as Murtagh used a free hand to toy with the neglected nipple, rolling it skillfully around on his fingertips at an agonizingly slow pace. After a moment, he slid a hand down across Eragon's stomach. The hand moved closer, closer to Eragon's almost painfully hard arousal, but it stopped short, instead choosing to draw abstract designs a few inches below his belly button.

Eragon stiffened as he tasted blood, before he realized that he had bitten his lip so hard he'd broken the skin. He continued to pant as Murtagh dragged his teeth across a nipple, then bare skin - he shut his eyes tightly, realizing he just couldn't take it any more. His entire body was strung tightly, he ached for release that he could not attain, and he simply could not take it any more.

"Murtagh, please," Eragon groaned.

Murtagh smirked again. "As you wish," he said.

True to his word, he knelt between Eragon's legs, curling a hand around the brunet's erection. Eragon groaned loudly, hips bucking upwards. It felt so good, so incredibly, hideously wonderful, far beyond anything he'd ever done with a woman. His ecstasy was driven to new heights, and he continued to climb, higher and higher until he teetered on the very precipice of climax.

Eragon moaned in relief, and he came hard, jerking and shuddering as he did so. He laid still and limply on the ground, gasping for breath, while Murtagh curled his arms around his chest. Eragon closed his eyes, beginning to feel strangely tired...

--------------

And then he awoke.

He laid still for a long moment, panting, flushed, and very aware of a sticky sensation between his legs.

Eragon? Saphira asked, puzzled; Eragon could feel her shifting against his back, craning her neck around to stare at him. Are you well?

I... yes, Eragon muttered, face reddening. He sat upright, brushing his hair out of his face and struggling to get a grip on himself. I just had a rather vivid dream.

Vivid? What do you...? She trailed off her sentence, and Eragon's blush darkened. He knew she had just spotted the wet patch on his pants, and could no doubt feel the afterglow of sex in him.

You couldn't feel the lust radiating from me while I slept? Eragon asked dryly, now bright crimson.

I was focusing on trying to sense if Shruikan was nearby, Saphira said. Eragon, is this why you kept me out of your mind before you were captured? Because you felt this way about Murtagh?

I kept you out out of stupidity, and nothing more. Eragon stroked her hide affectionately. My want for him didn't have anything to do with it - I didn't want him, not until... recently. Actually, before I just thought he was attractive. I didn't realize that it went any farther until just now.

The urge to mate is a powerful thing, Saphira told him. This may have something to do with our bond... I feel I am changing. Soon, I think, I will be able to lay eggs. Perhaps my recent urges have affected you, or perhaps it is your own human hormones. Whatever it is, you must be very careful about who you take to bed. Understand that lust is far more fickle than love, and do not confuse the two.

I will be careful. Then blinked, realizing something she'd said. You've been having urges?

Saphira snorted. Yes, and you would have felt them, had you not been so determined to shut me out.

He flinched. Saphira, I am truly sorry. He stood up, brushing himself off. Is Shruikan or Thorn nearby?

No. Thorn was briefly, probably looking for us under the king's orders, but he didn't come close enough to find us. I think we're safe.

You can sense him before he sense you? Eragon asked, surprised.

You know so little of dragons, Eragon, yet you ride one.

Egotist, Eragon muttered. Is there a stream nearby or something, then?

Yes. I can hear one about five hundred yards that way, she said, flicking her tail to Eragon's right. I'm taking a nap. Wake me if you somehow manage to get yourself in trouble again. And with that, she curled up and went to sleep.

Eragon nodded. His hand went automatically to his hip, to check and make sure he carried his sword - but of course he did not. He sighed when he remembered he didn't have one at the moment. If he was attacked, he'd have to depend on either running back to Saphira, or his magic, which could possibly still be under the influence of the drug he'd been fed.

Experimentally, he reached into himself and felt the familiar buzz of energy just under his skin. "Stenr risa (stone, rise)," he commanded, staring at a pebble on the ground. Slowly, it rose in the air, until it hung at eye level. Eragon smiled, satisfied. He magic was indeed back.

He found the stream Saphira spoke of easily enough. It was deeper and swifter than he expected, but the water was clear and clean. He pulled his shirt off and pants off, tossed them aside, and slid in, squawking in surprise and horror as he did; it was cold. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, then moved in close to the bank grabbed a handful of gritty sand. He continued to shiver as he scrubbed, but he was well aware that momentary cold was well worth being clean for what would probably be the last time in what might be days. He and Saphira couldn't stay in the same place, and... he wasn't sure about going back to the Varden.

As he scrubbed, he began to think. Saphira... they were back together at last. Not just physically, but mentally as well; it was a refreshing feeling, to know that he was once again friends with his dearest friend. No more of this foolishness about keeping her out of his head... she obviously didn't care about his lack of enthusiasm about being a hero... or even about Murtagh! He could be with Murtagh, and she wouldn't care. Yes, Saphira was a friend he could never lose.

Be with Murtagh? he thought dryly a moment later. He'd have to want me first, and I doubt he'll like the idea of fucking his own brother.

As he scrubbed, his thoughts went completely to Murtagh, and the dream he'd just experienced. Eragon shivered, and not from the cold of the water. For a moment, he turned his thoughts away, to Saphira, Nasuada, and Arya, and to the possibilities before him, but he found himself unable to distract himself. Sighing, he realized it was useless. Whether he liked it or not, he was hugely attracted to Murtagh, and the fact that is was only physically and not romantically made little difference.

He brought his hand absentmindedly to his chest as he thought of Murtagh; gently, he began to toy with the nub and imagine that the older man was there with him, pushing him against the bank and beginning stroke his chest, just like Eragon himself was doing now. Eragon froze, realizing what he was doing, and quickly brought his hand away. He sucked in a breath to steady himself; what kind of pervert was he, to be having thoughts like that just after he'd had a wet dream? Wasn't his body content? Apparently not. Eragon flushed, realizing that his "problem" wasn't going to go away any time soon; he couldn't stop thinking about the dream.

He hesitated, then allowed himself continue. The cold of the water was forgotten in the heat of the daydream as his trembling hands moved to caress his collarbone, his nipples again, his ribs, his abdomen, his hips... then inward, to his erection.

Eragon began to stroke himself, letting out a soft groan. He teased the tip of his erection, playing with it just as Murtagh had done in the dream. "Murtagh," Eragon whimpered, shutting his eyes tightly. He panted into the chilled air, his heated breath coming out in white puffs. He felt good, but not as good as it had before. It simply wasn't the same when it was his own hand.

An idea struck him then.

He let his hands fall away from his hardened length, and scrambled out of the water to snatch up his shirt. Back in the river he went, this time with cloth in hand. This is stupid, the sensible part of him thought. It probably won't work, and even if it does, it might hurt me... He shrugged, deciding that if it gave him a feeling similar to what he'd gotten while sleeping, he honestly didn't care. It was worth the risk.

He licked his lips nervously, searching for the right words. He'd have to be specific, or perhaps very unspecific. Finally, he said, "Unokia mi re'gehi (give me pleasure)." If it hurt him instead, he could simply release the spell.

Eragon began to feel hesitant as the shirt wriggled in his grasp. Perhaps this was not the best idea... But he immediately dismissed those the thought as the cloth slipped out of his hand and wrapped itself firmly around his cock.

He gasped at the contact. The shirt encompassed him tightly, squeezing him for a moment before beginning to writhe against the heated flesh. Eragon groaned, arching his back a little and imagining that it wasn't a charmed piece of cloth, but Murtagh kneeling between his legs... He whimpered as the shirt slid up and down, squeezing him slightly again. "Murtagh," he hissed, sinking his hands into the sand he pressed against and clutching at it. "Murtagh! A-ah..."

No, he wasn't alone in a stream, he was in his room at the Varden's new base in Surda. He was laying in his tub, and he'd been sitting there too long so the water was cold... Murtagh had come in and decided to take a bath with him...

Eragon groaned, finding his own hands stroking his erection along with the cloth. He continued to pant and moan as the daydream he'd woven took even greater hold; he could imagine exactly how Murtagh was pushed against him, exactly how and where those callused hands were touching him, exactly how the water swirled around them...

"Murtagh," he whispered as he came. He lay there, panting, but the cloth continued its convulsions. Wearily, he released the magic and grabbed the shirt before it could float away.

Eragon closed his eyes. That had been... strange. Good, but strange. Absentmindedly, he wondered if Oromis had tried this method before, and then he shuddered, picturing his teacher laying in his tub, a shirt concealing his hairless groin. "Ugh," he muttered, dispelling the disturbing vision.

It was then that the enormity of what he had done hit him. He'd just magically jerked off to his brother. His straight brother, who happened to be his close friend as well. And he'd done this after having a kinky wet dream about the same man tying him up and giving him a blow job.

"Fuck," he muttered, leaning against the riverbank. As if his life wasn't complicated enough already. He rose out of the water, magically dried his shirt and himself, got dressed, and went to talk to Saphira while trying not to have a nervous breakdown.

-----------------------------------------

I think this whole torture-sex thing is really getting to be a habit... I'm going to have to force myself to write a normal lemon for once... though if I do say so myself, Eragon's solo act was inspiring. ;D

Sorry it took so long to update! First it was writer's block, then I was struggling (and failing) to work on "She Wouldn't Dare", then I just got plain apathetic. And that's when exams kicked in at school. All excuses aside, I'll try to keep updating regularly, but I can't promise once-a-week updates anymore. More like once-every-two-week updates, at the most. Since I'm having trouble with "She Wouldn't Dare", you see... the last part of the third chapter just refuses to be written...