Eragon sat by the blazing fire. The heat slowly, but surely, warming his body in the cold, crisp night. With a long stick in his hand, he busied himself with scribbling lines and shapes in the dirt. Brom had once taught him how to put these lines and shapes together to create his name, to create words.
He broke the stick with anger and longing. Throwing the pieces into the fire and stomping away the shapes and figures, he sat again. Satisfied, he raised his eyes to look through the well built fire to see Murtagh hunched over something, working absorbedly.
"What's that?" He asked.
Murtagh looked up. His dark, bottomless eyes connected with the eyes of the younger boy. "Nothing really. Just a hobby." He mumbled as he shrugged his strong frame.
Eragon walked to his brother and looked over his shoulder. The older boy had a sharp little knife in one hand and an inch thick piece of wood that was as long as his forearm.
"You like to whittle?" The young rider asked curiously. He watched as Murtagh's lean, strong, hands held and expertly controlled the knife as it nicked at the wood. He moved swiftly and decisively, shaving off some wood here and there. Taking a little more off from the top and sides.
"It keeps me calm...it keeps me centered."
"Can you teach me how to do that?"
Murtagh looked up and smiled. Eragon could feel his heart skip a beat and his own smile growing on his lips.
"Sure." He handed Eragon the knife and found a long, thick, piece of wood. He tore the bark clean from the thick branch and handed the naked wood to the younger boy.
"What do I do now?"
"You have to think of a shape or image and try to make it's likeness appear through the wood."
'It sounds easy enough.'
The light haired boy held the two objects before his face. They felt so awkward in his hands. His eyes, wide and amused, stayed on Murtagh.
"Give it a try." He urged.
Eragon tried to think of something simple to shape the wood into.
"I'll make...a dragon...for Saphira."
"That's a difficult shape, especially for a beginner." Murtagh chuckled.
"I can do it." An edge of defensiveness crept into his voice. He began shaving little pieces of wood from his branch with determination and excitement.
"I'm sure you can."
"It might not be a perfect likeness" The younger boy mumbled to himself as he began to carve shavings from his piece of wood. "But I can do it, I'm sure."
'I'm sure Saphira will like it either way.'
"I'm sure too." His companion added as he fondly ran his long fingers through the rider's boisterous brunette hair.
Eragon felt himself subconsciously lean in, slightly, towards Murtagh's warm touch and found himself yearning for more contact with the older boy. To hold him and to have him hold him in return. Or maybe even to touch his soft, gently parted lips with...
Thoughts like these ran wild in the rider's head. Thought like these needed to be supressed, to be stifled. Thoughts like these were the reason he needed a distraction, like whittling, to keep his mind from contemplating all the illicit things he could do to his brother.
"Damn!" Eragon exclaimed. He had taken his mind off of his task for only a second, to think up another forbidden scenario starring the seductive Murtagh. During his fantasy he didn't realize that the little knife was no longer cutting into the wood, but his index finger. Finally the pain brought him out of his reverie to see red drops of blood roll down his palm.
"What happened?" The dark hair boy inquired, the alarm was easy to detect. His eyes immediately landed on Eragon's injured hand. "You should've been a little more careful." He scolded gently. "Are you alright?"
"I'll be fine." The brunette grumbled. He threw the unshaped piece of wood far from him and inspected his finger.
"Here, let me look at it." Murtagh's warm and calloused hands were tender on the rider's hands as he looked at the wounded finger. The cut wasn't too deep, but there was a lot of blood and it was really beginning to flow. "Yeah, you'll be fine." He poured some water over the cut and tore a little piece of fabric from the hem of his shirt to wrap it around the finger.
"Thanks, but it still hurts." He pouted like a little child.
The older boy raised the bandaged finger to his lips and kissed softly. Eragon could feel his face turn ruddy as warmth spread through his belly on this cold night. He watched as Murtagh kissed it again for reassurance. His eyes blinked rapidly. He wasn't sure he was really seeing this correctly.
"How is it now?"
"G-good." The rider stuttered.
"Does...anything else hurt?" There was a mischievous glint in the black haired boy's eyes.
"W..w-well," Eragon struggled to find his voice. His words tripped over his tongue and teeth on their way out of his mouth. "I-I had wanted to..uh, learn to, uh, whittle to dis-distract me..." Murtagh moved his lips to the inside of the rider's wrist, his teeth playfully bit the sensitive skin. "aah, to uh..distract me from dwelling on...Brom. But now, I..ooh, I think I need a, uh, distraction from the pain in...in my finger."
Murtagh pulled Eragon close to him, until they were nose to nose and chest to chest. He inhaled the rider's sweet perfume of pine, smoke, dirt and sweat. Their bodies, warm and willing, molded into each other effortlessly.
"I can be that distraction." The older boy promised as his lips brushed against Eragon's.
The brunette's eyes fluttered closed. This was what he wanted for so long. This was what he has tried to block out of his mind, but he couldn't do it any longer. He wanted to give in and he did.
Eragon coiled his legs around Murtagh's waist and buried his fingers deep in the mass of black hair. He couldn't stand the enticement for another second, he had to act. The rider pressed his lips hard against his companion's. His greedy tongue force Murtagh's mouth open to grant him access into the warm, wet, cavern of pleasure.
Murtagh ran his hands up and down the younger boy's broad back. He could feel the excitement building in each of their tightly fitted leather pants. He grabbed the rider's butt as he pushed him onto his back and grinded his hips deeper into the brunette's. Murtagh smiled as a moan escaped his kisser's lips. He pulled away from Eragon's mouth to concentrate on the crook of his neck with his teeth and tongue.
Eragon arched his back with approval. He enjoyed the older boy's hands roaming all over his body as he peeled every article of clothing from his frame achingly slowly. The rider gave a shuddered sigh as Murtagh's lips travelled lower and lower to his bare hips.
"Aahh..." His lips pulled back from over his teeth to form a smile.
"Eragon," Murtagh paused for a moment, slightly breathless.
"Let me be your distraction." Murtagh's warm lips and wet tongue brushed along the skin of the rider's hard member with as much expertise as his hands had with the knife and wood. He cupped Eragon's balls with one hand and massaged them gently and spread his legs further apart with the other hand. Murtagh insatiably wrapped his lips around the shaft and took him completely into his mouth.
"Aahh..." Eragon moaned loudly. "You're doing an excellent job so far."