Disclaimer: Jeez man, why can't I claim Peter? Oh, right. He's Caspian's.

Warning: Since this is my very first try at graphical descriptions, it may not be as good as should be. Let me know if the warning speaks the truth.


"Caspian… you taste nice. May I have some more?"

The Telmarine prince hid a knowing smirk as he took the tray-table away. Settling it on the nearby desk, he pretended to think, though the answer was quite clear and crisp in his mind. Such pleasure it was for Caspian the Tenth to give High King Peter the Magnificent the time of his life in the bed of the younger man.

"Of course, your Majesty," Caspian said huskily. He climbed onto the bed and hovered above Peter, blowing his hot breath on the High King's neck, licking the bare skin that was so surprisingly sensitive and tender. He kissed him passionately on the lips again, only with much more force than what the younger man did to him just a minute ago, before pulling back with a seductive grin, "Or shall I say… Peter."

The High King responded by pushing himself up, not sore from the tree fall anymore, as if Caspian's kiss had healed him completely, and began to take of the prince's shirt. Layers and layers of clothing were removed by two pairs of pleading hands, until both were fully naked and in each other's arms, lustily exploring their lover's body, pinching and even grabbing at the most pleasurable places.

Then, in a matter of lightning-fast seconds, Peter was sitting on a sprawled Caspian, so very quickly turned to a sitting position by the dark-haired man. It was then when he wondered if the walls were soundproof, and whether the door was locked or not by Caspian, but soon his anxiousness was driven away by a certain organ being thrust into him. He let out a mixture of a cry and a gasp, and not very long after, began to scream out his dark-haired lover's name.


Meanwhile, just outside the bedroom of the High King himself, King Edmund the just smiled rather unjustly to himself upon hearing the confused yet wanton cries of his brother- his plan was definitely working.


From the reactions of Peter, Caspian was sure he was doing a wonderful job, so he began to thrust faster as he pulled himself up to wrap securing arms around the younger man. He leant in and dipped his head, sliding his tongue over and over the High King's neck, using his second finger and thumb to affectionately pinch a rock-hard nipple, leading Peter, who gasped at the sudden displays of affection from his lover, to follow the fast rhythm of Caspian's thrusting.

He began to canter, using his knowledge of horse-back riding. At that time, horses and hot Telmarine princes weren't so different. Horses were good for riding. Caspian was even better, a fine steed in the sheets. A low moan escaped from his soft lips, but he did not stop, for it was from satisfying pleasure, the perfect dessert after the perfect dinner. He continued to ride, faster and faster and faster, and rode out in a lightning gallop, sweat rolling from his forehead and Caspian's name coming out in cries, screams, moans, everything as they reached the climax together. Fire swept through their bodies like a dragon, a dragon of desire, pleasure, love, lust, passion, and it was still there as Peter let out one final scream, before crashing face-first onto Caspian.


Such a shame, Peter thought, that he and Caspian did not have another chance in the bedroom for over a week. It was either Susan, as usual, or a nobleman's daughter staying at the castle for three or four days. That, however, was nothing but a mere opinion, because one night, when the moon was just half-covered, a familiar hand pulled him from the tree he daydreamed under, and, as the darkness hid them from the rest of the world, the two kings splashed into the lake, pressing against each other for a passionate kiss.