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Kiss With A Fist

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Of course the battle had gone badly. Bands of rebel minotaurs, werewolves and hags were things you wanted to avoid, rather than seek out, Susan thinks privately. But they couldn't be allowed to terrorize Narnians, and so when the rebels had been spotted in the Great Woods, Peter and Edmund rode out with an army regiment to track and subdue them. Unfortunately, the rebels spotted them first, and attacked.

Susan learns all the details when what's left of the regiment staggers home into Cair Paravel. It's chaos at first, with Lucy and the other healers tending to the injured, and Peter shouting orders at his officers and the Royal Guard, and the palace staff running every which way to assist their monarchs. After all these years, Susan thinks she should be used to it, but the aftermath of the battle is always just as shocking as the first time she witnessed it. The waiting is hard enough, but taking care of everyone after - well, she is Queen of Narnia, and it's her duty, and she's good at it. But Susan's heart aches for her peoples' suffering, and she thinks she never will become immune to it.

After all the wounded are cared for, and arrangements made for the dead, Susan can finally see to her brothers. Edmund first, because he's the most seriously injured of the two. Thanks to Lucy and her cordial, he'll be fine, but Susan lingers at his bedside, watching him sleep, before she's satisfied he's all right. Then she's off to track down Peter.

She finds him in his room, with one of the healers, who is tying off the last stitch on a long, nasty cut over Peter's left shoulder blade. He's clad only in his trousers, still streaked with dirt and blood, and she can see the evidence of all the other battles in the scars that trace their way over his torso. She realizes just how frightened she is, how frightened she's been since they returned home, Peter covered in blood and carrying Edmund. When he turns to face her with a wince, and the usual, "I'm fine, don't worry," Susan suddenly adds angry to frightened.

She dismisses the healer with a wave of her hand, and as he hurries out of the room, she moves toward Peter.

"Susan," he starts, and then trails off, looking somewhat alarmed as she advances on him. "Wait...just listen..."

But Susan is tired of "just listening" and she doesn't want to wait. And then she's in front of him, and almost before she realizes she's doing it, she punches Peter in the face. "What were you thinking?!"

Peter reels back, his hand flying to his mouth. "Fuck, Su! Did you really think I needed to bleed more?"

"I thought you needed a little bit of sense smacked into you, Peter! What the hell were you thinking? You lose your sword and decide to attack a minotaur with your bare hands?"

"Oh. You heard about that." Peter shrugs and wipes his mouth again. "Well, it wasn't like he was going to wait for me to pick up the sword."

Susan glances down at her own hand, now covered in Peter's blood, and she wipes it on her skirt. The dress is ruined anyway, and what's a little more blood now after all rest? She does feel a little bad about hitting him so hard, but that's outweighed by how good it felt to take out some of her fear and anger. "No, but you didn't have to throw yourself at him, you.... you... "

"Brave king?" Peter offers with a hopeful grin.

"Foolhardy boy!" She pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket and hands it to him though. "For your mouth."

"Hmm." Peter dabs gently at the cut. "Foolhardy, maybe. But if I hadn't, he would have taken Ed's head off."

"If Lucy had been there -- if I had been there --"

Peter cuts her off. "Susan, you know we can't all ride out to battle at the same time. You being there wouldn't necessarily have prevented anything. And we got Lucy's cordial to Ed quick enough."

Susan is still so angry she's shaking, but she's not going argue with Peter any longer. They've had the same fight hundreds of times before, and she knows he's right - they decided together that all four of them in battle at the same time is not a risk they're willing to take, if they have a choice.

So Susan does the only thing she can think of to do. She grabs Peter and kisses him hard, ignoring his yelp of pain. Peter is surprised for a moment, but then his mouth opens under hers, and he grabs her hips, pulling her close and kissing back, urgent and forceful.

Susan breaks the kiss and stares at him, breathless and tasting his blood on her lips. Peter is staring back at her, blue eyes dark with arousal. She can feel how hard he is, pressing his body against hers.

"Peter," she says with a gasp, clutching his bare shoulders, and suddenly, she needs to feel him inside her, needs to feel him moving in her, needs to feel him alive and his name is both a plea and command.

Peter surges forward, and he slams her back against the wall. There's no time for gentleness, not time even for the bed. Her hands fumble at the ties of his trousers, tugging them low and drawing out his hard cock, as he pushes up her skirts and tears at her underclothes. He grips her waist, lifting her, bracing her against the wall, and Susan wraps her legs around him. Then -- god, yes - he's pushing into her, hard and hot and frantic, and she moans as he fills her.

She leans in to bite at the sensitive spot on his neck, nipping and licking in the way she knows will drive him wild, and Peter is panting, breath hot in her ear. He slams into her again and again, as Susan claws his back as he drives deeper into her, grunting with the effort of each thrust. Her head thumps against the wall, pain mixing with the pleasure, reminding her that this is exactly what she wanted, to feel him, alive and with her.

She leans in to captures his mouth with a messy kiss, then moans, panting. "Oh, yes...Peter..." And she's close, so close, and everything is all hot and wet, and she's not sure if it's sweat or blood she feels under her hands as she clutches again at his back. Her eyes flutter shut as she comes, dropping her head to his shoulder and biting down to keep from screaming.

Peter gives a strangled yelp, a mixed sound of pleasure and pain, and pushes into her again and again, hips stuttering as he comes too. "Fuck... Su...." he groans, collapsing against her, pressing into the rough wall.

Susan licks the spot she bit, soothing now, hands moving gently and slowly over his back, fingers tracing the scars, and then down over the knobs of his spine. She lifts her head to look at him, and is surprised to see him grinning breathlessly at her.

"Did you draw any more blood?"

"Oh, hush you." But she grins back, holding tight to him, not quite ready to trust her legs to support her. Peter's still leaning rather heavily on her, and she's not sure if his legs are steady yet either, when he arches his back and moans.

"Did you open the stitches?"

"No, of course not!" She winces a little as he pulls out of her, stepping back. Her skirts fall to the floor, as she stands and looks at him with a critical eye. "You're a mess, Peter."

"No thanks to you," he says, but he's still grinning at her. "We both need baths." He pauses, considering. "Or bed. I'm not sure which I need more right now."

She's trying her best to straighten herself out, but gives it up as a lost cause, because Peter's right, she does look a mess too. She leans in to kiss him again, this time slow and gentle. "I'm glad you're all right."

He pushes her hair back from her face and cups her cheek. "I'm fine," he repeats. "Just a little banged up. And in dire need of rest."

"Right. Bath first." She nods, and starts heading in that direction. She'll get him into a hot bath, and off to bed. Taking care of everyone - it's her duty, and she does it well. She'll join him in the bath and in his bed too, since even queens need to take care of themselves.