Reviews:

-animeluva713: I have no idea what you could mean… :whistles innocently:

-orene treke: Yep, I figured I needed Eragon to be the reasonable one for once.

-Jack Skellington's Mistress: Here are the pants, part II. Get your fan and enjoy xD

-Drowned Hopes: Don't you dare be depressed, goddess of writing! Anyway, I never liked the Eragon from the books too much. In my imagination he's quite alright, though, and thus I also see him in my fic ;)

-LaylaBinx: Muchas gracias!

Guardian

3rd Hunting Moon

Murtagh wondered whether he should wake Eragon. He watched the young man sleeping peacefully, hair ruffled, a leg sticking out from under the blanket, and decided against it. Why not let him rest some more? There was no time pressure.

He smiled and went towards the balcony door. This was one of the many odd things of these days: He found himself smiling and even laughing frequently. In the last week it had happened about as many times as in his whole life before altogether. His brother really had the strangest effects on him.

With a little shiver he stepped outside. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day, but the air was already frosty in the mornings. Murtagh pulled his cloak closer around himself. Maybe he should have bothered to put on a shirt – but as his plan was to return to Eragon soon, he would definitely not give up on the newly earned right to have skin contact. He watched the hoarfrost glitter in the sun in a truly autumn countryside. During the last week, all trees had turned red or golden and parts of their leaves were colouring the ground as well. Murtagh had not even noticed the surroundings change; his only focus was a lot more striking than all scenic beauties.

Last night he had not been able to fall asleep. Instead, he had stared at the blond sleeping in the firelight. Eragon was still too skinny, but that did not lessen his attractiveness much. He had a body to revere and Murtagh was planning to do just that. Once that thought had formed in his mind he had left the room for a moment as a precaution and taken care of himself again. He did not feel too good about it, but it was all he could do to stay cool around Eragon. Or at least halfway cool. Afterwards he had had the glorious idea to go and look for clean pants. Of course he would wash the light brown ones if Eragon asked him to, but it was none of his favourite pastimes. Now there was a pair of russet-coloured breeches lying on the edge of the bed, waiting to be worn by that tight ass and-

What was he thinking? He should rather come up with something to tell Eragon why yesterday had not been anything to be ashamed of. He had an inkling what the younger one would think on awakening.

"Murtagh?"

He went back inside quickly. "Hello sleepy, good morning!"

Eragon watched him drowsily and then pointed with his hand at the empty space next to him. "You. Here."

Murtagh grinned and complied, slipping underneath the blanket. "I see we are very talkative this morning." Instead of a spoken reply he was being kissed thoroughly and decided that sometimes talking was not the only good thing to do.

"Alright," Eragon said contentedly after a while, "now the day can start. What were you doing outside?" He noticed the pants on the end of the bed and instantly forgot about his question. Heat was rising in his cheeks.

Murtagh pulled him close, making as much skin contact as possible on purpose. "I was outside to think of a way to convince you not to be embarrassed."

"Impossible!" It came out between clenched teeth. "This is embarrassing." Had he really...? Eragon would give a lot to undo the last night.

"No, why should it be? I never understood that problem of yours in the first place. By the way," Murtagh grinned evilly, "what's the status now?" He lifted the blanket and scanned Eragon below the waistline.

Eragon squeaked and pushed the blanket back down forcefully. "Don't. There. Is. Nothing! Nothing to see!" He was as red as the trees outside.

Murtagh's suppressed laughter broke out freely. "It's not like you're the only man in the world, you know. Tell me, where's the problem?"

"I don't know!" Eragon hit the mattress in frustration. "For example, it's always me. You're never affected, it's-" Eragon paused, watching the other confusedly.

Murtagh was shaken by a new wave of laughter. It took him a while to calm down again. "Just because I don't make a fuss about it doesn't mean that I never have one… You're always too busy being ashamed of yourself, you just don't notice."

Eragon contemplated that for a moment. "Maybe. And of course I know I'm not the only man in the world. But it… it's always a sign that someone wants to have sex, right?" He continued very quickly. "And I don't, and so I don't want you to think that I do, and so it's really embarrassing, and I hate that I can't do anything about it, and-"

"Nonsense!" Murtagh tousled Eragon's hair. "If everyone in Alagaësia worried about such trivial things as much as you do, there would be no war and no trouble. But also no food, no clothes, nothing, because no one would have the time to get anything done – everyone would be busy worrying all the time. All it means is that you're turned on… by me, I guess. There's nothing wrong with that," Murtagh added smugly.

Eragon sighed. "Nah, I don't know. When you say it like that it sounds as if everything's alright… But the pants… I'm not thirteen."

Murtagh smiled. Here was Eragon Shadeslayer, first of a new generation of Riders, hope of the Varden, survivor of Galbatorix' madness. And yet he was troubled by those little signs of his awakening sexuality. That was just adorable. "Eragon?"

"Hmm?" Blue eyes focused on him.

"Did I ever tell you that you're cute?"

Eragon raised an eyebrow. "No."

"You're cute!"

Murtagh was rewarded with one of the most beautiful smiles he could imagine. With a grin he continued. "Don't try to tell me that you did not like it last night."

Eragon shook his head and ran his hand along Murtagh's chest to prove it. "No."

Murtagh plucked up courage. "So, I know you liked it, yet you did not like to come in your pants…" He saw Eragon flinch. "And I must say that there are better ways… I mean, I could make you orgasm without getting anything dirty." He bit his lip.

Eragon was deeply interested in his hands. "Go on," he mumbled.

Murtagh felt heartened. "How much do you know about sex?"

"That is a very broad question…" Eragon drawled.

"Then give me a very broad answer…" Murtagh imitated him perfectly, earning a brief smile.

Eragon swallowed and picked at a fibre that was sticking out of the blanket. "Err, not too much, I guess…" He shot one timid glance at Murtagh then focused on the fibre again. "I really hadn't had the time in the past years… not that I wouldn't have liked to… but… Not too much, to be honest. What do you mean by, uhm, not getting anything dirty?"

Murtagh studied Eragon for a moment. In his thoughts he was already pulling down the stained pants and finally catching sight of his brother's most private part. He had been dreaming of it for so long and was yearning to learn the truth about his fantasies. He wanted to touch it, lick it, pleasure it in every way known to him and above all he wanted to find out what Eragon tasted like. But how much would Eragon allow him to do? He ignored his own need and changed his plans.

"I would certainly like to show you." Murtagh paused, chosing his next words. "As I said, I know you liked it last night. And I can take you so much further..." He saw he had Eragon's full attention and leaned close to his ear, shoving away some hair and whispering seductively: "...Later."

"What?" Eragon asked unbelievingly, straightening up. "Later? Why later?" He kissed Murtagh briefly. "Are you getting up? Why? I thought we would… do something… now?" He was obviously frustrated.

Murtagh grinned and put on a dark grey shirt. It would all be so much easier if Eragon was craving more, too. "Get up, brother, we'll be having breakfast in the woods."

Half an hour later they were marching through the forest, Eragon somewhat grumpily in front and Murtagh relaxed half a step behind him. The sun had warmed the air by now and leaked through the trees to the ground.

After a while Eragon stopped underneath a large oak, where the wind had assembled a small heap of colourful leaves. "This looks nice, doesn't it?" He sounded anything but happy about the place, but Murtagh thought that even paradise would not look inviting to Eragon at the moment. He cheered inwardly. Eragon was horny, which was exactly what he had wanted.

"Yeah, looks good," he said innocently, meanwhile stepping close to the younger Rider. "Do you want to have breakfast now, or...?" He did not finish the question.

Eragon stared at him for a moment and then realization dawned on his face. He wetted his lips and lowered his voice. "What else is there to do here?"

Murtagh knew the other was doing that on purpose and his pulse sped up. "Do you trust me?" His voice was hoarse.

"You know that I do."

Murtagh nodded and reached for Eragon's hand, leading him over to the stem of the oak and positioned him with his back to the tree. It would enable Eragon to lean on something if he needed to steady himself.

He placed his hands against the tree on both sides of Eragon's head and began kissing the soft lips. His demand for entrance was granted right away. Very carefully, Murtagh brought himself closer and closer to Eragon until their bodies were pressed together tightly. Soon he felt not only his own need grow but also a likewise reaction of the other body. He ground his hips against their counterparts and heard Eragon moan. At the same time, he noticed that Eragon was completely hard and a low growl vibrated in Murtagh's chest. Now.

He broke the kiss and kneeled down, ignoring Eragon's puzzled look. With practised fingers he unbuckled the belt in front of him and opened the pants. Yet he still left them in place and looked up, studying Eragon's expression. The younger one was breathing irregularly and looked down at him with eyes wide open. Murtagh saw longing and excitement, trust, but also… fear. However, it was not dominant and he decided it was only natural. He lowered his gaze.

His head was exactly at the level of Eragon's waist and he swiftly he pulled down the pants to the knees - and froze. There in front of him was Eragon, fully erect, and big. Murtagh was thrilled. Screw those fantasies, reality was so much better. Without further ado, he kissed the head of Eragon's cock and ran his tongue along the slit, tasting precum. Another growl escaped him, mixing with a long moan from Eragon.

Murtagh began to kiss the full length and nibbled at the vein on the underside. Then he used his tongue and swirled around Eragon's erection entirely.

His own arousal was throbbing and he got more and more stimulated not only by the size he was attending to, but also by the sounds he was hearing. Eragon had stopped moaning a while ago and was now whimpering in pleasure. His hips began to tremble, so Murtagh pressed his hands to the slim waist, holding it in place. Very slowly, he brought his mouth around the head of Eragon's cock, teasing him with his tongue mercilessly. A moment later he had enough and took the entire shaft in his mouth. He paused like that shortly, enjoying the stifled cry that had come from Eragon.

Then he began to move his head forward and backward, slowly picking up speed. Every time he felt the tip of the cock hit the back of his throat, a shiver ran down his spine. It was tough to take all of Eragon in, but Murtagh had learned long ago to suppress his gag reflex and never had he liked being short of breath as much as now.

Before long he felt the cock pulsate stronger and stronger and knew climax was not far off. Sure enough, there were two hands around his head suddenly, but they were trying to push him away, not hold him in place as everyone else would have done. Murtagh resisted, but cocked his head and looked up at Eragon, not stopping with what he was doing.

Eragon gasped and groaned alternately, face and throat sweaty. He was looking down at Murtagh. "Do-Don't… I-I-I'm co-coming, don't… no..."

Murtagh decided Eragon's discomfort was one to be ignored. He scraped his teeth gently along the length as well, careful not to hurt the sensitive head. Seconds later he perceived a muted scream and despite his firm grip, Eragon's hips buckled, shoving the first load of release deep into Murtagh's throat. He was half choking, but hungered for more and did not stop pleasuring Eragon until he had sucked him dry.

With a little sigh of contentment he closed his eyes and enjoyed the taste.

Eragon took some deep breaths until the dizziness stopped and he could see clearly again. He stared down at Murtagh in disbelief. The older one had just swallowed his whole orgasm. Deliberately! And strange as that already was, he had also taken pleasure in it. Memories of himself chocking and crying in his brother's situation fought their way into Eragon's mind, but he pushed them away. The circumstances could not be compared at all.

He kneeled down as well, but only to pull Murtagh up with him again. Hazel eyes were blazing with desire. With a pang of guilt Eragon realized that the other one was not satisfied yet, and a quick glance at Murtagh's hips confirmed that. Eragon began kissing the older one and was meanwhile wondering what he could do. He had the strong urge to finally give Murtagh something in return; however, most that came to his mind was accompanied by a nauseous feeling in his stomach.

Touching. He thought that touching would be alright. Slowly his right hand wandered down Murtagh's side, remembering the stunning body underneath the shirt. When his hand did not stop at the waist, but instead moved to the inside of one thigh, Murtagh stopped kissing and watched him attentively, his breathing accelerating.

Eragon moved his hand further decisively, and placed it on Murtagh's crotch. He closed his eyes and felt the need beneath his hand. Inexperienced, but not clumsily, he began to massage the hardness through the leather pants.

A raucous groan caused him to open his eyes again and he found Murtagh stare at him, unreadable emotions in his eyes before he closed them. Eragon kneaded more forceful now and brought his other arm around Murtagh's back, pulling him close. He kissed him firmly and for once, it was him to inflict some pain. He bit Murtagh's lip, and, encouraged by the growl he got as a response, he bit it again, fiercely, only stopping when he tasted blood. What was he doing?

But Murtagh seemed not to care. Eragon felt the strong body shudder and suddenly he was embraced tightly. Murtagh bit down on his neck and with a deep, violent groan he trembled one last time. Then all went quiet and still so that only the unsteady, hard breathing of both of them could be heard.

With a small grin Eragon whispered in Murtagh's ear: "Now your pants are dirty, too… We're even."

Eragon lay on his back and was watching single leaves slowly circle their way down from the golden treetop. The sky above the tree was cloudless, and the sun had mustered as much strength as it could at this time of the year. The leaf he was focused on momentarily would certainly land on his face, and Eragon laughed quietly. He had never known that he liked autumn so much, but there could not be a more beautiful season than this.

His head rested comfortably on Murtagh's lap, who was sitting upright, his back against the stem. Gentle hands were playing with Eragon's hair and now came to rescue him from the leaf.

They had not talked much and simply eaten in silence, exchanging a small smile or an affectionate glance every once in a while. But the peaceful, glowing nature around them now made Eragon remember something that he wanted to share with the person so dear to him.

"Murtagh?"

"Here's one." The answer came low and warm.

Eragon overstretched his neck a bit so he could look at Murtagh, but quickly decided against it, as it was rather painful. "There's something I would like to tell you."

"Then I guess there's something that I want to hear."

Eragon inhaled deeply. It would be difficult to describe what was on his mind. "You know, that day when Galbatorix thought that torture would not be enough and sent those men… it was… they caught me by surprise… I did not know such agony existed. And-"

"Eragon." Murtagh had stiffened and his voice was both shocked and miserable. "I… Why do you think about the rape now? Wa-Was it something I did? Because I didn't mean to." He talked faster and more agitatedly. "Never! All I wanted was to give you some pleasure, show you what it can be like. You have to tell me if it's too much, I-"

"No!" Eragon sat up quickly and took Murtagh's hands in his own. "No, you did nothing wrong." He smiled apologetically at his brother who was clearly suffering mental anguish. "Actually, I wanted to talk about something positive; it's just that the preface is not so nice."

Murtagh swallowed hard, expression only slowly relaxing. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely!" Eragon squeezed the hands and kissed him briefly. "Let me tell you. So, anyway, as horrible as it was in the beginning, it got even worse. I did not know that that was possible… but yes, it was. At some time in the night I gave up. Not willingly. But something inside of me broke. Something died? I don't know. At least it felt like it. And certainly I wanted to die."

Eragon observed the sad eyes of Murtagh and knew his probably looked the same. "But I didn't. I know I had given up fighting, yet then… something happened. I had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while. Whenever I was aware of my surroundings I said my prayers and my goodbye to the world and got weaker and weaker. Until… well, it's hard to explain. Please don't think I'm crazy."

"I won't. Ever!" The sad face was now an earnest one. Interested. And deeply affectionate.

Eragon felt better. "All of a sudden my thoughts turned to my childhood. I saw myself – as a child – although I'm not really sure if I ever looked like that. But I knew it was me. And then… there was someone else. Maybe an angel…" His voice faltered. "I never believed in angels, yet it must certainly have been one. It was a woman. Beautiful. Full of love somehow. She smiled at me and for a moment I forgot everything." Eragon shook his head slowly. "It was all over in an instant. But somehow I could not die afterwards. No matter how bad it got, something kept me alive. It was as if a small fire burned inside of me. A fire that they could not extinguish."

Eragon's blurred vision cleared and he was startled to see a tear run down Murtagh's cheek. "Murtagh, what's wrong? What did I say?"

"Eragon," it was only a whisper, "that was not an angel. That was... more. The woman was your mother. Our mother."

"What?" Eragon's voice broke. "Mother? How is that possible?"

"It is the only memory I have of her. Selena smiling at me is my guardian in the worst of times. She makes me want to live, too." Murtagh cupped Eragon's face with both hands. "I had access to your mind in that night for a short moment and I tried to send you that image. I wished fervently that she could help you when I couldn't."

Warmth was spreading through Eragon's body and he was slightly dizzy again. Selena! He knew it had been more than just an image. She had been there with him, fighting with him. Now he had learned that she had been summoned to his side by Murtagh and his chest tightened. It had been his mother and his brother who had saved his life that night.

He felt as if he was not able to breathe and readily accepted Murtagh's open arms. He pressed his face into the dark hair and began to cry without knowing if he was sad or happy.