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28 December 2006 @ 09:46 pm
 

Title: Untitled
Author: ayellowumbrella
Fandom, Pairing:
Eragon, Eragon/Murtagh
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Well, I don't really know anything about the Eragon series, as I haven't read it, and knowledge beyond the movie is from Wikipedia.  And I decided I had to write this before I found out the characters are half-brothers.  And finding that out clearly didn't stop me.  Ah, well.  Based on the MOVIEVERSE. 
Summary: I saw the movie Eragon and wanted to write this little thing.  Because I'm creepy.  

Downy confidence surged from Eragon’s cloak when he came back to the cave, whiteness rushing up to meet gray, and the slippery green of Murtagh’s eyes. But the mischief had rubbed off Murtagh’s face, and bitterness had settled in its place and burned in the concavities, leaving ashes behind. The dimness between the two boys was dense, and Eragon thumbed the dirty floor. Words fell like iron scraps and no plans could be formed, so they crouched and clenched and laid their palates down. Edging away from the accusatory embers, Eragon lay closer to Murtagh than he meant to, and the frustrated casting of Eragon’s arms away from his now brittle chest (not enough feather-colored tightness left in him from Arya’s gaze to keep him still) was met with the vicious pinioning of his elbows to his sides. The scuffle was punctuated by Murtagh’s blaming eyes and Eragon’s self-righteous cheekbones; Eragon’s knuckles against Murtagh’s collarbone turned into sticky fingertips, and Murtagh gagged softly at the pressure against his throat, fingers outside and desperation inside. (But he didn’t make a sound.) One hand around the swing of Eragon’s ribcage, one clumsily in Eragon’s hair, Murtagh kissed fiercely, eyes tight shut against his own terror. Too much air was breathed in in-between them, and they fell into the emptied space. This was green, this was burning, this clacking of teeth and hipbones. Murtagh’s hand against Eragon’s flushed skin was steel, not feathers: equally flight but disproportionately more terror. Murtagh pulled away and Eragon sucked pinkly at the air in mouth’s absence. Eragon palm felt the slickness of Murtagh’s scar, and Murtagh bit at Eragon’s neck, and with a great shuddering panic (a spasm starting in tailbones and shooting up backs and down arms), they curled back into themselves and rolled stiffly onto their own palates to stifle the sound of their desperate gasping.