The Wheel of the Year 6 *THE WHEEL OF THE YEAR #6:* *BELTANE* *By GILDA LILY* Well, I thought this was going to be late, but it looks like I made it after all with a day to spare! Let the Great Rite begin...! Rated NC-17 for explicit m/m sex. (c) April 30, 1998 *Flames crackled as the bonfire lunged against the sky. The circle chanted and hummed, the two figures in the center strong and smooth as the fire sculpted their bodies. Passion crackled in the air as the slender one lifted his hand and caressed the cheek of the sturdier one. His eyes were the color of the forest as he moved his body close, losing himself in eyes the color of the sky. Their lips met, tongues entwining, and their cocks touched as hands slipped up strong thighs to cup well-rounded buttocks. A tongue flicked out and licked a budding nipple, the delicious Canadian flinging his head back and moaning deep in his throat. The American lapped at the sensitive nub, sucking it gently as his emerald eyes caught fire. His mouth came up and devoured the Canadian's again, and the chants grew louder. Their bodies meshed. A finger slipped inside the Canadian's cheeks and he gasped, mouth still caught. Released, he slid bonelessly down to his knees, the world spinning as he licked the burgeoning cock that danced in front of his face, his hands clutching the gleaming thighs to his face. He ran his tongue up and down velvety flesh, the American growling, fingers entwining in his hair as his head was lifted. The demand was growled and he obeyed, swallowing his beloved whole. He always loved this taste, this arousal, this pure, animal sex. He sucked and moved his body against his Yankee's, and elegant fingers brushed his warm cheek. He looked up through demure lashes and felt the fires burn into his heart and soul. The American narrowed his eyes. How *dare* his Canuck look so ready to...fuck? His groin screamed its need, and he took a look at the body so close to him, thighs apart and rosy cock glowing in the firelight. A tremor went through him. He tugged sharply on the other's hair. The Canadian released him, and kissed his thighs, then turned on all fours, opening himself to his captor. For he would always be thus, this possession, and he would demand it in turn. And he could feel the aromatic oil worked into him, preparing him, the smoke dizzying his senses as his chest heaved. Drops of sweat disappeared into the rich earth, its fresh spring smell filling him. His lover eased home, filling him, and sweet ecstasy burst within him as the chants hummed and sighed, hypnotic and tempting, and the woodsmoke teased along his nostrils as the scent of arousal darted here and there in the air. The Moon shone down, and he was transported, like a slave on a galley ship on a moonlit night on the open sea, his Roman impaling him as he whispered his mastery. The American was enclosed, warm flesh sending jolts of pleasure through him. So it would always be, this possession, and he would demand it in turn. Heat prickled his skin and pleasured his cock, stinging sweat rolling down his chest and stomach to lightly kiss his beloved's buttocks, his own cock thrusting in, out, in, out... Possessed. Loved. Claimed. The fires burned hottest, the Moon shone coolest, the chants spiralled up to a great shout...and the cascade burst into a thousand suns, the love that dare not speak its name shouting from the rooftops... * * * * * * The fire wound down, the Great Rite was completed, the Goddess honored. Two lovers slept, bound in body and soul as they encircled one another.* Return to Due South Fiction Archive