Happy Monaboyd Month! :D I bring thee fic....
Title: Trees (7/10)
Author: (capra_maritimus)
Rating: PG-NC-17 for the series, NC-17 this instalment (for sexual situations)
Pairing: Billy/Dom AU (or AR if you prefer)
Disclaimer: I don't know these people, I don't own these people, I am not these people. This is all a product of my fevered imagination. Astrid belongs to ingve9 and myself. All other OC's are mine.
Summary: Billy and Dom enjoy the rest of their vacation.
Notes: The original tig on which this series is based (co-authored by Pip of acroamatica, pippinmctaggart, myself and ingve9) can be found here and is included in the Part 1 link below.
I didn't quite have time to finish all of Part 7 before my monaboyd_month deadline. Hopefully later this summer the complete Part 7 will be posted on monaboyd and bdotp as per usual, as well as my own LJ and fic archive on Insane Journal.
To recap: In this universe Dom is half-human, half-uruisg (or urisk for English speakers), a kind of satyr-like brownie found in the highlands of Scotland. The story takes place in mid-May, 2002, in the Manchester area, about two weeks before they have to return to NZ for TTT pick-ups. After that Billy will rush off to film Master and Commander in Mexico and Dom will go to NY to film An Insomniac's Nightmare. Well, that's the plan, anyway....
[ Part 1 (tig)][ Part 2][ Part 3a][ Part 3b][ Part 4][ Part 5a][ Part 5b][ Part 6]
Light is everywhere - in him, around him, overloading his synapses, gilding his nerves with molten gold....
An eternity of nigh unbearable Illumination, of image after image ... of feeling ...of knowing....
His hands are raised to ward off Its relentlessness, his mind turns inward from the piercing lucency. These methods prove ineffectual as the Light flares through his body and soul as if it were made of crystal glass.
...fetid breath, patchy fur, bluish skin, eyes filled with hate and fear and despair....
...flashes of human features, familiar yet unknown, familial resemblance in green iris and compact stature....
...pixie laughter, limbs filled with grace and magic and fire, dancing, teasing....
...flash of lightning, the thunderous cracking of scorched wood, and pain, so much pain....
...and the green, the green, always the green....
Beneath the never ending rush of imagery is the insistent rustling of leaves, a language for which comprehension is just beyond his fingertips, frightening and alien and oh so compelling. He senses purpose, import, but cannot discern enough meaning to fathom the what's, how's or why's. His head feels engorged with the combined luminescence of galaxies.
The susurration rises to a mighty roar in a hurricane that threatens to flatten him. His inner ear is tormented and disoriented. His arms and mind reach out for balance, trying to grasp something, anything....
His fingers twitch when they claw at something prickly, and movement flutters against his palm before skittering away. Startled, he blinks blindly, and the all-encompassing Light slowly fades in its supernova brilliance, the shapes and swirling colours slowly fading like smoke - maddeningly familiar yet frustratingly indecipherable.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head, an action which does nothing to relieve his vertigo. He feels himself fall, and he flails wildly for an alarming length of time until he thumps to the ground.
Silence.
Billy opens one eye and his vision is pierced by colour - the most vibrant greens and crystalline indigo blushing to pink. He sits up carefully, taking in the environment around him, the colours resolving into leaves and earth and twilight sky. Comprehension returns in a rush and he recognizes the clearing at the edge of the stream from the night before, when he and Dom -
He has no words to even begin to describe such a life altering, breathtaking communion. He loses himself in remembered sensation and vision, his spine shivering in sympathetic response. He has no idea how long he sits staring into a clump of wood sorrel - it could be centuries for all he is heeding the passage of time. His body, however, is starting to complain about the prolonged lack of movement and with a grunt Billy picks himself up from the embrace of the soft grass. He stands and stretches, and winces at the many twinges and bruises and scrapes suddenly clamouring for attention. He looks around, dazed, and cannot tell if he is still dreaming or in a waking trance. Everything around him practically vibrates with life and personality and goodwill and despite his aches can feel his body humming with the same amplified vitality.
He is amazed that he hasn't noticed before this just how chatty the stream can be, gurgling and bubbling happily over the rocks. He smiles, and drops down the small embankment, cupping his hand in the pure liquid. He splashes some of the water on his face, and immediately his mind is keener and more alert. He bends to take a drink but is distracted by movement at the lip of the grassy bank. Flashes of tiny, curious eyes flit between leaf and petal, and disappear with a faint squeak when they realise their quarry is returning their gaze.
An upwelling of wild joy fills him, and he laughs, free and clear, with the pleasure of one who no longer fears, nor senses any trepidation or threat.
He belongs here, now.
Entranced, Billy reaches up and brushes his fingers against the leaves above his head that seem to faintly glow with some inner light. He touches something round and cool and recognises the texture of an apple, a strange discovery to be making in what Billy had assumed was still late spring - he is certain he can smell apple blossom from somewhere above his head. He smiles and lets his fingers explore the textures of knotted bark, new leaf and familiar fruit. The leaves rustle, and he feels them stroke against the back of his hand in greeting. Billy jumps back, and peers into the foliage. He thinks he sees pale eyes regarding him kindly, and while in the past he would have doubted his sanity, now he merely nods in greeting and grins at the saucy wink he receives in return. Something falls past his head and hits his toe, and he leans over to pick up the apple he was lately admiring.
The eyes fade into bark, back into the guise of an ordinary apple tree in full bloom and fruit at the same time. Billy blinks, then shrugs and examines the apple in his hand.
Beware the food of Faerie.
He hasn't given any thought to the warnings against eating of the food of the Sidhe, but then, Dom wouldn't have brought him here if he had intended to trap him. Still, he decides to ask Dom about it--
Where is Dom?
The belated question, to his surprise, brings no trepidation, but merely a feeling of rightness, as if all was as it should be and he would find out in due time. This is Dom's place, after all.
Billy brings the fruit to his nose and inhales its scent. Faint impressions of the excellent quality of soil and the perfect level of moisture all speak of a living thing that has loved where it has set its roots. He looks back at the tree who gestures with its branches in encouragement. He is abruptly ravenous and inclines his head to his benefactor before taking a bite.
The flavour is absolutely, otherwordly perfect - slightly tart, with a firm texture to the flesh and a sweetness that is irresistible. The juice runs down his chin in his haste to finish his breakfast, and when he is done, including the core, he feels completely satisfied. He giggles and refrains from naming this particular apple variety 'Lembas'. Or referring to the tree as 'Viggo'.
Moments later his head is suffused with a softer version of the Light from earlier. Vague forms and sensations coalesce into a comprehensible tableau: a tall oak is rent by a lightning strike, falling to the ground, taking another tree with it. Two saplings are left unharmed, and lean toward the shelter of a gnarled willow. They grow up straight and tall, strong for their sheltering tree until it, too, dies one winter. The two saplings grow, and one starts to drop acorns which sprout more saplings in turn.
Tears stream down his cheeks, but they are not a sign of mere sadness, more of an intense emotion born of past love and grief that overwhelms him. He watches one sapling move away from the other and fade from his mind's eye. He knows this story far too intimately.
His vision snaps back to normal, and, wiping his eyes, he finds himself in dire need of a drink. He jumps down to the stream and, cupping his hand, drinks his fill. The taste is subtly complex, a tang of earth and stone and far away glacier-capped mountains, conifers of many species gracing their lower slopes before yielding the earth to their leafy cousins in the valleys. He knows this water by taste, knows its source and where it's traveled, and whispers a 'thank you' to the stream swirling around his feet.
More refreshed than he's felt in years, Billy climbs up the bank and into the forest, wandering happily as he munches on a second apple, another windfall from the apple tree. He feels the warmth of anticipation in his gut which leads him in a fixed direction through the forest.
Billy occasionally senses eyes on him; whereas last night it filled him with unease, today he smiles and waves back, a newcomer in a new town greeting his neighbours. He still senses wariness from some quarters, yet more and more he senses unlooked for joy from others, and his steps and bearing grow in confidence. He has earned his place here, and too bad if anyone dares gainsay him.
Someone does.
A figure blocks the path: small, gnarled and dark of wood. To the casual observer they would only see an unremarkable blackthorn shrub growing in the path, but Billy recognises the creature without knowing why - it's the over-protective lunantishee from the night before, barring his way with all the deep-rooted tenaciousness it can muster. Its wicked thorns bristle and its branches spread in warning gesture. 'You shall not pass' could not have been more clear if it had been shouted.
Billy giggles.
The blackthorn grows larger and looms menacingly over him, but Billy can recognise a bluff when he sees one. Gently, he kneels before the bush and inclines his head in greeting. The bush seems almost surprised in the way its grasping branches jump back. In a moment its limbs have shrunk to its previous size, and reveals itself to be more stick figure than plant (and yet somehow looking exactly the same). An Ent in true - if an Ent were five times smaller than the Treebeard model.
The lunantishee stares with baleful eye - or so Billy imagines as he cannot see any eye as such. He is all too aware of the intense judgment he is being subject too, and manages to keep calm, evoking the memory of the Light in the forefront of his mind.
Billy does not see the small tree move, yet between one moment and the next, it is positioned to his right. Before his eyes its branches bloom with snow-white blossoms, adding their distinct perfume to the air. He recognises the scent from the many springs spent in Glasgow, especially as he grew older.
Hooray, hooray for the first of May...
Billy laughs and almost skips along, goaded by the promise of the fulfillment of the rest of the verse. The warmth under his breastbone has stirred to a steady flame, one which leads him unerringly to their glade where this all began. He glimpses furtive movement at either side of him now and again, flashes of branched hands and furred faces and tiny jewelled wings, all which inevitably disappear as soon as he looks directly at them. He learns to politely pretend to ignore them, sneaking fascinated glances when he can.
The sky is lightening fast in the east, sending gold and purple and rose streaming over the ridge. As the trees thin, exposing the clearing, Billy slows, and holds his breath at the sight of what seems to be hundreds of Fae of all shapes and sizes, from the near human in size and form to the smallest insect and mushroom-like creature. They fade in and out of his vision like the spirits of long forgotten mythologies, more tangible in the heart than in the physical.
Billy marvels, wondering why they are here. He also wonders where Dom is - he knows he is close, and his heart beats faster in excitement, but cannot see him.
A ripple of joyful welcome washes through the crowd. Billy follows their gaze up to the top of the ridge where the sun is starting to appear in a blaze of glory over the rock, setting ablaze the crest of the cliff and casting the rest into cool shadow. The sky is piercingly bright and Billy has to shield his eyes from the glare.
The sudden silence shocks him - no longer can he hear even the buzzing of bees in the blossoms or the whisper of leaves moving in the breeze. The lack of sound makes Billy clench his teeth but like the others there he stays rooted to the spot, waiting....
There! Billy's heart leaps in delight as he finally sees the familiar silhouette, now limned with the fire of dawn. Dom stands at the top of the ridge, tall and proud, surveying the grove before him.
The eerie silence is replaced with a cacophony of birdsong, animal grunts, barks and yips, the creak of branches and the rush of grass caught in the wind's embrace - the faerie equivalent, Billy imagines, of a rousing cheer.
Billy watches, spellbound, as Dom nimbly leaps from rock to cleft down the cliff face. The faerie sun rises quickly and by the time Dom reaches the bottom, the light has dispersed all shadow from the clearing. Dom makes no sound as his gaze roams the multitude. When it lights finally on Billy, his eyes crinkle with happiness and gratitude and his face -
His face --
There is such a look of power and strength and warmth and sheer confidence that Billy has never seen, neither on the uruisg's face nor on Dom's human one. The being that stands before the crowd now is no longer aloof, divided, no longer at war with himself. It is something that Billy was aware of, but only fleetingly, and it is now made glaringly obvious by its absence.
Domhinithe, the Inexplicable One, the Pariah, is no more.
Billy's breath catches in his throat at the sight - here in the full sunlight Dom's fur glosses gold and red, summer and life embodied. No hint of dark ghostly doings linger here. Instead, a shaft of the purest light filled Billy's vision. He can see nothing but Dom's eyes and the radiance streaming from them, green and gold twining and dancing in serpentine knots and whorls, piercingly sweet and quixotic as the flow of a swift river.
Billy loses all sense of self and body and he feels all words slip from his mind; a silence fills him, leaving a profound peace. Dom reaches out for him, and Billy mutely takes his hand. Dom covers it with one of his own, softly pressing his muzzle to their now tightly clasped hands.
Dom and Billy, Billy and Dom, hunter and hunted, predator and prey, protector and protected, roles which Billy knows will reverse and change back ad infinitum for the rest of their lives. Billy protects Dom with reason and wit as Dom protects him in turn - together they have strength at their back, love in their heart, heat in their belly.
Billy throws his arms around Dom. Long moments pass as they cling to each other. Exultation wells up from the crowd and swirls around them like living water. The sweet perfume of flowers engulfs them, blessing them, the sun gently warming them, dispelling all darkness from their souls.
It is some time before Billy is aware of several light brushes against his arms and back. He looks up to see the air filled with fragrant petals flitting around them. Billy's laugh bubbles out of him and he feels Dom 's chest shake with his own amusement as they watch the aerial acrobatics for a time before returning their attention to each other, revelling in their closeness, both new and familiar. A sigh like a warm breeze rustles the leaves, and as the petals slow their flight and begin to fall softly like snow, the grove quiets.
Billy and Dom are alone.
They do not break their embrace and Billy takes advantage of their proximity to reacquaint his skin with the feel of soft fur. Dom grunts and playfully rubs his pelvis into Billy's, who throws his head back and lets his body kindle as it will. Golden light shimmers up and down his spine and hardens him further. His mouth opens and closes of its own volition, craving lips and a warm tongue and something to champ with his teeth.
Dom holds him firm and slows their movements, dragging Billy from his spiraling excitement. After a time he pulls away and gestures to Billy to look behind him. Panting, Billy wrests his gaze from Dom, and turns to see a veritable feast spread out under the oak tree - Oyster and Fairy Ring mushrooms, more apples, duck eggs, berries and a variety of seeds, roots, and leaves, all laid out in bowls of woven rushes. Billy stares, his mouth helplessly watering as one hunger is displaced by another.
One encouraging glance from Dom is all he needs - he sits down with alacrity and starts to eat his fill, pointedly ignoring Dom's amused snort. The blackberries are especially amazing, the flavours vibrant and nuanced, and, like the apples, suspiciously out of season. Billy wipes at the blackberry juice running down his chin but only ends up smearing it all over himself. He starts to giggle when Dom leans over and starts to lick at the purple stains, his tongue scraping against his stubble.
They recline on the grass, feeding each other, adding playful touches and caresses to their meal time. Billy's gaze is drawn back to Dom's face and the newfound strength he sees there. In his mind faint flashes of form and colour resolve into comprehensible uruisg shapes which superimpose themselves over Dom's features. The images are darker, malevolent and shockingly sickly - Billy shakes the visions away, not wanting to break the mood. He is convinced that the nasty mottled grey piece of work can only be Dom's uncle, though the glimpses of blue skin under patchy fur puzzle him.
Curious, Billy runs his fingers along the roots of Dom's fur, examining the skin underneath. The colour is very much like pale cream, not much different from other animals Billy has seen. He gets lost in the texture dancing along his fingertips and, food forgotten, reacquaints himself with his beloved's form, leaving the disquieting images behind.
They move in a languorous trance, exploring each other in awed delight. They place strawberries and blueberries in each other's mouths, and attempt to kiss their juice-stained lips and tongue clean. Dom makes a game of eating off Billy's stomach and Billy grins as purple and red cover more and more of his skin. He moans and bucks when that agile tongue unexpectedly touches on a sensitive spot just below his navel. Billy lies back and allows Dom to take his liberties, whimpering in frustration when Dom gets too close (or, rather, not close enough) to his rising cock.
Dom makes soothing noises to calm him, and Billy experiences Dom's tranquility as if it were his own. The boundary between himself and Dom seems so permeable now, and with every caress of hand and tongue, Billy connects to Dom and his secret home as tendrils of energy spill from his extremities, twining and joining. His spirit sends roots deep into the earth, drawing up nourishment from the land as he gives of himself in love, anchoring him to this place of mystery.
Billy drifts on wave after wave of gentle arousal. Dom slows his licks and touches, keeping them tender and soothing, a silent fleshly lullaby. Billy's eyes droop, his thoughts slow, and his muscles soften as he sinks between one moment and the next into a light doze.
His body melts like late spring ice into the ground, and new green saplings spring up from the earth, growing unearthly quickly into a faerie grove around him, enclosing him in a living henge. Their branches sway and dance of their own volition, movement which attracts a small creature, no more corporeal than laughter and a shape flitting between the trees.
A delicate hand reaches out and his body flows into shape as he becomes upright once more, caught in the grip of a young woman with short, sunshine hair and blue, blue eyes that sparkle with merriment. She laughs and dances away, elusive as thistle down when he reaches for her, startlingly loud in his ear when he is looking elsewhere.
His confusion and frustration rises as the pixie-like figure disappears, but he is soothed by loving grey eyes and soft fur and turns his attention away from the living puzzle, content to remain in more familiar territory.
Sighing, Billy slips under into deeper sleep.
*************
To be continued.
Author: (capra_maritimus)
Rating: PG-NC-17 for the series, NC-17 this instalment (for sexual situations)
Pairing: Billy/Dom AU (or AR if you prefer)
Disclaimer: I don't know these people, I don't own these people, I am not these people. This is all a product of my fevered imagination. Astrid belongs to ingve9 and myself. All other OC's are mine.
Summary: Billy and Dom enjoy the rest of their vacation.
Notes: The original tig on which this series is based (co-authored by Pip of acroamatica, pippinmctaggart, myself and ingve9) can be found here and is included in the Part 1 link below.
I didn't quite have time to finish all of Part 7 before my monaboyd_month deadline. Hopefully later this summer the complete Part 7 will be posted on monaboyd and bdotp as per usual, as well as my own LJ and fic archive on Insane Journal.
To recap: In this universe Dom is half-human, half-uruisg (or urisk for English speakers), a kind of satyr-like brownie found in the highlands of Scotland. The story takes place in mid-May, 2002, in the Manchester area, about two weeks before they have to return to NZ for TTT pick-ups. After that Billy will rush off to film Master and Commander in Mexico and Dom will go to NY to film An Insomniac's Nightmare. Well, that's the plan, anyway....
[ Part 1 (tig)][ Part 2][ Part 3a][ Part 3b][ Part 4][ Part 5a][ Part 5b][ Part 6]
Light is everywhere - in him, around him, overloading his synapses, gilding his nerves with molten gold....
An eternity of nigh unbearable Illumination, of image after image ... of feeling ...of knowing....
His hands are raised to ward off Its relentlessness, his mind turns inward from the piercing lucency. These methods prove ineffectual as the Light flares through his body and soul as if it were made of crystal glass.
...fetid breath, patchy fur, bluish skin, eyes filled with hate and fear and despair....
...flashes of human features, familiar yet unknown, familial resemblance in green iris and compact stature....
...pixie laughter, limbs filled with grace and magic and fire, dancing, teasing....
...flash of lightning, the thunderous cracking of scorched wood, and pain, so much pain....
...and the green, the green, always the green....
Beneath the never ending rush of imagery is the insistent rustling of leaves, a language for which comprehension is just beyond his fingertips, frightening and alien and oh so compelling. He senses purpose, import, but cannot discern enough meaning to fathom the what's, how's or why's. His head feels engorged with the combined luminescence of galaxies.
The susurration rises to a mighty roar in a hurricane that threatens to flatten him. His inner ear is tormented and disoriented. His arms and mind reach out for balance, trying to grasp something, anything....
His fingers twitch when they claw at something prickly, and movement flutters against his palm before skittering away. Startled, he blinks blindly, and the all-encompassing Light slowly fades in its supernova brilliance, the shapes and swirling colours slowly fading like smoke - maddeningly familiar yet frustratingly indecipherable.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head, an action which does nothing to relieve his vertigo. He feels himself fall, and he flails wildly for an alarming length of time until he thumps to the ground.
Silence.
Billy opens one eye and his vision is pierced by colour - the most vibrant greens and crystalline indigo blushing to pink. He sits up carefully, taking in the environment around him, the colours resolving into leaves and earth and twilight sky. Comprehension returns in a rush and he recognizes the clearing at the edge of the stream from the night before, when he and Dom -
He has no words to even begin to describe such a life altering, breathtaking communion. He loses himself in remembered sensation and vision, his spine shivering in sympathetic response. He has no idea how long he sits staring into a clump of wood sorrel - it could be centuries for all he is heeding the passage of time. His body, however, is starting to complain about the prolonged lack of movement and with a grunt Billy picks himself up from the embrace of the soft grass. He stands and stretches, and winces at the many twinges and bruises and scrapes suddenly clamouring for attention. He looks around, dazed, and cannot tell if he is still dreaming or in a waking trance. Everything around him practically vibrates with life and personality and goodwill and despite his aches can feel his body humming with the same amplified vitality.
He is amazed that he hasn't noticed before this just how chatty the stream can be, gurgling and bubbling happily over the rocks. He smiles, and drops down the small embankment, cupping his hand in the pure liquid. He splashes some of the water on his face, and immediately his mind is keener and more alert. He bends to take a drink but is distracted by movement at the lip of the grassy bank. Flashes of tiny, curious eyes flit between leaf and petal, and disappear with a faint squeak when they realise their quarry is returning their gaze.
An upwelling of wild joy fills him, and he laughs, free and clear, with the pleasure of one who no longer fears, nor senses any trepidation or threat.
He belongs here, now.
Entranced, Billy reaches up and brushes his fingers against the leaves above his head that seem to faintly glow with some inner light. He touches something round and cool and recognises the texture of an apple, a strange discovery to be making in what Billy had assumed was still late spring - he is certain he can smell apple blossom from somewhere above his head. He smiles and lets his fingers explore the textures of knotted bark, new leaf and familiar fruit. The leaves rustle, and he feels them stroke against the back of his hand in greeting. Billy jumps back, and peers into the foliage. He thinks he sees pale eyes regarding him kindly, and while in the past he would have doubted his sanity, now he merely nods in greeting and grins at the saucy wink he receives in return. Something falls past his head and hits his toe, and he leans over to pick up the apple he was lately admiring.
The eyes fade into bark, back into the guise of an ordinary apple tree in full bloom and fruit at the same time. Billy blinks, then shrugs and examines the apple in his hand.
Beware the food of Faerie.
He hasn't given any thought to the warnings against eating of the food of the Sidhe, but then, Dom wouldn't have brought him here if he had intended to trap him. Still, he decides to ask Dom about it--
Where is Dom?
The belated question, to his surprise, brings no trepidation, but merely a feeling of rightness, as if all was as it should be and he would find out in due time. This is Dom's place, after all.
Billy brings the fruit to his nose and inhales its scent. Faint impressions of the excellent quality of soil and the perfect level of moisture all speak of a living thing that has loved where it has set its roots. He looks back at the tree who gestures with its branches in encouragement. He is abruptly ravenous and inclines his head to his benefactor before taking a bite.
The flavour is absolutely, otherwordly perfect - slightly tart, with a firm texture to the flesh and a sweetness that is irresistible. The juice runs down his chin in his haste to finish his breakfast, and when he is done, including the core, he feels completely satisfied. He giggles and refrains from naming this particular apple variety 'Lembas'. Or referring to the tree as 'Viggo'.
Moments later his head is suffused with a softer version of the Light from earlier. Vague forms and sensations coalesce into a comprehensible tableau: a tall oak is rent by a lightning strike, falling to the ground, taking another tree with it. Two saplings are left unharmed, and lean toward the shelter of a gnarled willow. They grow up straight and tall, strong for their sheltering tree until it, too, dies one winter. The two saplings grow, and one starts to drop acorns which sprout more saplings in turn.
Tears stream down his cheeks, but they are not a sign of mere sadness, more of an intense emotion born of past love and grief that overwhelms him. He watches one sapling move away from the other and fade from his mind's eye. He knows this story far too intimately.
His vision snaps back to normal, and, wiping his eyes, he finds himself in dire need of a drink. He jumps down to the stream and, cupping his hand, drinks his fill. The taste is subtly complex, a tang of earth and stone and far away glacier-capped mountains, conifers of many species gracing their lower slopes before yielding the earth to their leafy cousins in the valleys. He knows this water by taste, knows its source and where it's traveled, and whispers a 'thank you' to the stream swirling around his feet.
More refreshed than he's felt in years, Billy climbs up the bank and into the forest, wandering happily as he munches on a second apple, another windfall from the apple tree. He feels the warmth of anticipation in his gut which leads him in a fixed direction through the forest.
Billy occasionally senses eyes on him; whereas last night it filled him with unease, today he smiles and waves back, a newcomer in a new town greeting his neighbours. He still senses wariness from some quarters, yet more and more he senses unlooked for joy from others, and his steps and bearing grow in confidence. He has earned his place here, and too bad if anyone dares gainsay him.
Someone does.
A figure blocks the path: small, gnarled and dark of wood. To the casual observer they would only see an unremarkable blackthorn shrub growing in the path, but Billy recognises the creature without knowing why - it's the over-protective lunantishee from the night before, barring his way with all the deep-rooted tenaciousness it can muster. Its wicked thorns bristle and its branches spread in warning gesture. 'You shall not pass' could not have been more clear if it had been shouted.
Billy giggles.
The blackthorn grows larger and looms menacingly over him, but Billy can recognise a bluff when he sees one. Gently, he kneels before the bush and inclines his head in greeting. The bush seems almost surprised in the way its grasping branches jump back. In a moment its limbs have shrunk to its previous size, and reveals itself to be more stick figure than plant (and yet somehow looking exactly the same). An Ent in true - if an Ent were five times smaller than the Treebeard model.
The lunantishee stares with baleful eye - or so Billy imagines as he cannot see any eye as such. He is all too aware of the intense judgment he is being subject too, and manages to keep calm, evoking the memory of the Light in the forefront of his mind.
Billy does not see the small tree move, yet between one moment and the next, it is positioned to his right. Before his eyes its branches bloom with snow-white blossoms, adding their distinct perfume to the air. He recognises the scent from the many springs spent in Glasgow, especially as he grew older.
Hooray, hooray for the first of May...
Billy laughs and almost skips along, goaded by the promise of the fulfillment of the rest of the verse. The warmth under his breastbone has stirred to a steady flame, one which leads him unerringly to their glade where this all began. He glimpses furtive movement at either side of him now and again, flashes of branched hands and furred faces and tiny jewelled wings, all which inevitably disappear as soon as he looks directly at them. He learns to politely pretend to ignore them, sneaking fascinated glances when he can.
The sky is lightening fast in the east, sending gold and purple and rose streaming over the ridge. As the trees thin, exposing the clearing, Billy slows, and holds his breath at the sight of what seems to be hundreds of Fae of all shapes and sizes, from the near human in size and form to the smallest insect and mushroom-like creature. They fade in and out of his vision like the spirits of long forgotten mythologies, more tangible in the heart than in the physical.
Billy marvels, wondering why they are here. He also wonders where Dom is - he knows he is close, and his heart beats faster in excitement, but cannot see him.
A ripple of joyful welcome washes through the crowd. Billy follows their gaze up to the top of the ridge where the sun is starting to appear in a blaze of glory over the rock, setting ablaze the crest of the cliff and casting the rest into cool shadow. The sky is piercingly bright and Billy has to shield his eyes from the glare.
The sudden silence shocks him - no longer can he hear even the buzzing of bees in the blossoms or the whisper of leaves moving in the breeze. The lack of sound makes Billy clench his teeth but like the others there he stays rooted to the spot, waiting....
There! Billy's heart leaps in delight as he finally sees the familiar silhouette, now limned with the fire of dawn. Dom stands at the top of the ridge, tall and proud, surveying the grove before him.
The eerie silence is replaced with a cacophony of birdsong, animal grunts, barks and yips, the creak of branches and the rush of grass caught in the wind's embrace - the faerie equivalent, Billy imagines, of a rousing cheer.
Billy watches, spellbound, as Dom nimbly leaps from rock to cleft down the cliff face. The faerie sun rises quickly and by the time Dom reaches the bottom, the light has dispersed all shadow from the clearing. Dom makes no sound as his gaze roams the multitude. When it lights finally on Billy, his eyes crinkle with happiness and gratitude and his face -
His face --
There is such a look of power and strength and warmth and sheer confidence that Billy has never seen, neither on the uruisg's face nor on Dom's human one. The being that stands before the crowd now is no longer aloof, divided, no longer at war with himself. It is something that Billy was aware of, but only fleetingly, and it is now made glaringly obvious by its absence.
Domhinithe, the Inexplicable One, the Pariah, is no more.
Billy's breath catches in his throat at the sight - here in the full sunlight Dom's fur glosses gold and red, summer and life embodied. No hint of dark ghostly doings linger here. Instead, a shaft of the purest light filled Billy's vision. He can see nothing but Dom's eyes and the radiance streaming from them, green and gold twining and dancing in serpentine knots and whorls, piercingly sweet and quixotic as the flow of a swift river.
Billy loses all sense of self and body and he feels all words slip from his mind; a silence fills him, leaving a profound peace. Dom reaches out for him, and Billy mutely takes his hand. Dom covers it with one of his own, softly pressing his muzzle to their now tightly clasped hands.
Dom and Billy, Billy and Dom, hunter and hunted, predator and prey, protector and protected, roles which Billy knows will reverse and change back ad infinitum for the rest of their lives. Billy protects Dom with reason and wit as Dom protects him in turn - together they have strength at their back, love in their heart, heat in their belly.
Billy throws his arms around Dom. Long moments pass as they cling to each other. Exultation wells up from the crowd and swirls around them like living water. The sweet perfume of flowers engulfs them, blessing them, the sun gently warming them, dispelling all darkness from their souls.
It is some time before Billy is aware of several light brushes against his arms and back. He looks up to see the air filled with fragrant petals flitting around them. Billy's laugh bubbles out of him and he feels Dom 's chest shake with his own amusement as they watch the aerial acrobatics for a time before returning their attention to each other, revelling in their closeness, both new and familiar. A sigh like a warm breeze rustles the leaves, and as the petals slow their flight and begin to fall softly like snow, the grove quiets.
Billy and Dom are alone.
They do not break their embrace and Billy takes advantage of their proximity to reacquaint his skin with the feel of soft fur. Dom grunts and playfully rubs his pelvis into Billy's, who throws his head back and lets his body kindle as it will. Golden light shimmers up and down his spine and hardens him further. His mouth opens and closes of its own volition, craving lips and a warm tongue and something to champ with his teeth.
Dom holds him firm and slows their movements, dragging Billy from his spiraling excitement. After a time he pulls away and gestures to Billy to look behind him. Panting, Billy wrests his gaze from Dom, and turns to see a veritable feast spread out under the oak tree - Oyster and Fairy Ring mushrooms, more apples, duck eggs, berries and a variety of seeds, roots, and leaves, all laid out in bowls of woven rushes. Billy stares, his mouth helplessly watering as one hunger is displaced by another.
One encouraging glance from Dom is all he needs - he sits down with alacrity and starts to eat his fill, pointedly ignoring Dom's amused snort. The blackberries are especially amazing, the flavours vibrant and nuanced, and, like the apples, suspiciously out of season. Billy wipes at the blackberry juice running down his chin but only ends up smearing it all over himself. He starts to giggle when Dom leans over and starts to lick at the purple stains, his tongue scraping against his stubble.
They recline on the grass, feeding each other, adding playful touches and caresses to their meal time. Billy's gaze is drawn back to Dom's face and the newfound strength he sees there. In his mind faint flashes of form and colour resolve into comprehensible uruisg shapes which superimpose themselves over Dom's features. The images are darker, malevolent and shockingly sickly - Billy shakes the visions away, not wanting to break the mood. He is convinced that the nasty mottled grey piece of work can only be Dom's uncle, though the glimpses of blue skin under patchy fur puzzle him.
Curious, Billy runs his fingers along the roots of Dom's fur, examining the skin underneath. The colour is very much like pale cream, not much different from other animals Billy has seen. He gets lost in the texture dancing along his fingertips and, food forgotten, reacquaints himself with his beloved's form, leaving the disquieting images behind.
They move in a languorous trance, exploring each other in awed delight. They place strawberries and blueberries in each other's mouths, and attempt to kiss their juice-stained lips and tongue clean. Dom makes a game of eating off Billy's stomach and Billy grins as purple and red cover more and more of his skin. He moans and bucks when that agile tongue unexpectedly touches on a sensitive spot just below his navel. Billy lies back and allows Dom to take his liberties, whimpering in frustration when Dom gets too close (or, rather, not close enough) to his rising cock.
Dom makes soothing noises to calm him, and Billy experiences Dom's tranquility as if it were his own. The boundary between himself and Dom seems so permeable now, and with every caress of hand and tongue, Billy connects to Dom and his secret home as tendrils of energy spill from his extremities, twining and joining. His spirit sends roots deep into the earth, drawing up nourishment from the land as he gives of himself in love, anchoring him to this place of mystery.
Billy drifts on wave after wave of gentle arousal. Dom slows his licks and touches, keeping them tender and soothing, a silent fleshly lullaby. Billy's eyes droop, his thoughts slow, and his muscles soften as he sinks between one moment and the next into a light doze.
His body melts like late spring ice into the ground, and new green saplings spring up from the earth, growing unearthly quickly into a faerie grove around him, enclosing him in a living henge. Their branches sway and dance of their own volition, movement which attracts a small creature, no more corporeal than laughter and a shape flitting between the trees.
A delicate hand reaches out and his body flows into shape as he becomes upright once more, caught in the grip of a young woman with short, sunshine hair and blue, blue eyes that sparkle with merriment. She laughs and dances away, elusive as thistle down when he reaches for her, startlingly loud in his ear when he is looking elsewhere.
His confusion and frustration rises as the pixie-like figure disappears, but he is soothed by loving grey eyes and soft fur and turns his attention away from the living puzzle, content to remain in more familiar territory.
Sighing, Billy slips under into deeper sleep.
*************
To be continued.