Okay, it's the first time I've wrote even mildly risky slash… heheh… even though there isn't that much of it… (yes, I'm a chicken) Well, It was kind of serious, and kind of (hopefully) funny (please please think it's funny) but I hope you enjoy regardless!
Disclaimer: I don't own it. Chrissy P does. RAWR.
Eragon looked around wildly – Murtagh had dropped out of sight, and he didn't want to be caught unawares by the red dragon and his rider. He leaned close to Saphira's neck.
Do you sense them anywhere?
No – and it worries me.
Suddenly Eragon felt a burning line of pain streak across his back. He cried out, arching his body in the saddle. Saphira growled and turned swiftly, trying to gain altitude. Eragon pulled energy from the belt of Beloth the Wise in order to heal the wound – for while shallow, it was long, and felt strangely unlike a sword wound.
A new weapon? I would have sensed him if he had been close enough to strike me with his sword…
As they turned in midair, Eragon was able to see Murtagh and Thorn clearly. They had obviously come up diagonally from underneath Saphira – a daring, even reckless, maneuver – and there in Murtagh's hand rested the weapon that was dangerous, even over a distance of fifteen or twenty feet. It was a leather, steel-tipped bullwhip, longer that the type one would normally see being used to control beasts of burden. A smug smile rested on the elder dragon-rider's face, and Eragon had to admit, seeing him there, clad in leather with the vicious weapon in his hand was kind of sexy…
Eragon shook himself. What? Wait, sexy? Murtagh?
Saphira dove, and then suddenly swerved upwards, flapping hard. Eragon, don't get distracted… She thought at him warningly.
Distracted!? Like Hell I'm getting distracted!
So look behind you!
There was a woosh of air against their backs, and Eragon twisted, bringing up his blade just in time to meet Murtagh's attack. He thrust the red sword away. Viciously attacking, he and Murtagh began to fight hand-to-hand, with Saphira and Thorn locked in combat underneath them. Suddenly, a blazing line of pain seemed to erupt along Eragon's midsection as Thorn hooked a claw in the thin skin of Saphira and tugged viciously. He screamed, short and sharp, with the intensity of the move, and them fell forward onto Murtagh.
Luckily for Eragon, the other rider seemed to be caught unawares by his falter. Eyes widening, Murtagh seemed to almost drop his sword, and, for some reason, actually opened his arms, and …caught Eragon?
Looking up into dark brown eyes, wide with surprise, Eragon felt a tendril of fear snake through his chest. Why he couldn't say, but the unnamed emotion swirling in those endlessly deep, dark eyes seemed to send chills down his spine- chills of foreboding, and of something else, as well.
Suddenly they were close, impossibly close, and yet still yearning to be closer. Murtagh settled his mouth on top of Eragon's, tipping the younger's head back, holding the boy(man) as if he were a wine glass holding some unspeakably addictive liquor that he could not get enough of. They pulled back, to breathe for a beat, and then their mouths met again, for as long as was possible without their chests (and minds) imploding.
Eragon took a moment away from Murtagh's mouth, kissing his way across the other rider's jawbone to the base of his neck, nipping and sucking at the skin there. Murtagh moaned, and reached down to explore the margin of Eragon's leggings. As he dipped his hand inside, Eragon gasped, and arched his back in ecstasy, much as he had when Murtagh had struck him with the whip during their battle. The two dragons underneath them stayed close together, still flying, though locked now in an embrace of passion rather than antagonism. Their riders continued to remove clothes, and commit many of the acts that one would reasonably expect not to involve clothes, while totally unaware of the battle going on beneath them.
As a small patch of the battle ground cleared, Nasuada pulled her horse to a halt and looked worriedly up, shading her eyes with an elegant hand. "I hope that Eragon's all right… Saphira and Murtagh's dragon do seem to have been fighting rather viciously for some time now…" However, try as she might, she could not catch sight of the riders astride the dragons with only her eyes to aid her. Suddenly Angela stepped up. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about Eragon," she said cheerily, "He's doing just fine! Here – have a look"
Angela handed Nasuada a small metal cylinder – a telescopic glass. The Lady extended the contraption and put it to her eye, searching the sky for the two battling riders. Suddenly she found them, and she gasped, her face becoming pale.
"See?" Angela said, "They're happy as hopping frogs in a puddle of mud."
Nasuada fell off her horse.
Meta-me: WHAT!? What was that!!? "They're happy as hopping frogs in a puddle of mud"!?!? I swear, I can't believe you control the mind that I belong to…
Me: Hey it wasn't that bad, right…?
Meta-me: Of course it was bad! Every sentence was bad! Every WORD was bad!
Me: Okay, time to take a nappy-poo.
Meta-me: *blabbers on*
You can help me out with shutting up the voices in my head by reviewing! You can side with Meta-me, or you can decide something else! I'm happy to receive reviews, even if they're flames! (yes, I'm desperate) So do something nice for a crazy lady (I actually do have six cats) and just click that button!