Happy Yule/X-mas! “The Gateway” Freebie!
Hey, everyone! I wanted to take a moment to wish everyone a Happy Holidays. We celebrate both Yule and Christmas in my household, so I’ve been busy making merry the last few days. I’m grateful this holiday season that my partner’s health has taken a bit of a turn for the better. Her medications are helping her more than they were the rest of this year, so we’re hopeful for more improvement in 2016. 🙂
Since life has a way of bogging me down lately, I don’t have any new fiction to offer you guys. I’m sorry! BUT, I thought it would be a fun opportunity to re-share one of my old pieces of original flash fiction. Back in 2010 and 2011, Saundra (S.L. Armstrong) and I did Advent challenges, writing a piece every day from December 1st to the 25th. It was a fun activity that then produced our entire Advent e-book, along with an overflow collection Love & Agony with all new characters, and a few accessory stories.
The following is one of those accessory bits, an original I did on my own about Mistletoe being considered a sacred gateway between realms by the Druids. I hope you enjoy it and have a wonderful holiday into 2016! Let the Twelve Days of Christmas begin!
“Neither herb nor plant, and suspended high in the branches of sacred trees, Mistletoe was thought by the Druids to be an ‘in between’, or a gateway to other worlds. Such was their reverence for the plant that the Celtic Tree alphabet had no word for it.”
The snow crunched beneath Cymry’s feet, and he breathed in the crisp air. The snow had fallen and partially melted several times in the last month, but last night had brought a fresh dusting, and there was no place he would rather have been than walking under the glistening boughs. The same couldn’t be said of his companion, however.
He looked over his shoulder with a smile, batting a lock of dark hair back from his face. “Scowling doesn’t suit you, Gaius.”
“Fifth day of the moon,” Gaius grumbled, trailing reluctantly behind him. “Nearly midwinter, following a snow, and the day before the new month, and we’re sent out to scout the forest. Why in the gods’ names are we doing this?”
“Because the men are busy hunting, the women are preparing for tomorrow’s feast, and the Druid priests and priestesses are blessing the sacrifices for the Solstice?” Cymry offered, his eyes scanning the trees.
“But times are peaceful,” Gaius huffed. “We should be hunting with the others, not walking the woods like lost children. What good do they suppose we’ll do? It’s a waste.”
“Can’t you live up to your name and find joy in the way the trees sparkle?” Cymry laughed, gesturing around him as he ran and twirled a short distance in front of his friend. “The sky is blue, the wrens are chirping in the distance, and—”
An overladen branch from an oak tree chose that moment to unload its snowy burden, and Cymry’s green eyes widened as half-melted snow fell heavily on Gaius’ head, covering his head and shoulders with heavy, white splotches. They both stopped dead for a moment, and then Cymry burst into laughter, running back to Gaius’ side.
“Gods be cursed!” Gaius growled, swatting patches of snow off his pale hair. He stubbornly pushed Cymry’s hands away, brushing off his furs himself instead of accepting the help. “Even the sacred oaks bemoan my presence. I should have stayed behind.”
“Don’t say that,” Cymry chuckled. “The oak is just trying to lighten your spirits.” He reached out and pressed his hands to the bark of the oak tree’s trunk. The tree seemed to thrum with energy beneath his hands, and he sighed happily, looking up into its snowy branches. An unusual hint of green halfway up the old tree caught his attention, and he shaded his eyes from all the white. He squinted for a moment, and then let out a soft gasp. “Gaius!”
“What?” Gaius sighed, still trying to wring out moisture from his pale braids.
“Look up there. Is that what I think it is?”
Gaius had always had better eyes than him in the snow, and he glanced at his friend. Excitement bubbled up in him when a smile slowly curved Gaius’ lips. “The sacred gateway,” Gaius confirmed with the first hint of pleasure Cymry had heard all morning.
Cymry pumped his fist in the air, whooping at the sighting of the sacred plant, and in an oak tree, no less! It was a twofold blessing, a wonderful omen. “I told you the oak was trying to make you smile!” He laughed, and this time, even Gaius joined in.
“Right before the sixth day of the moon and the Solstice,” Gaius chuckled, exchanging a glance with Cymry. “All right, I’ll admit it. I should have had more faith. Who knows when it would have been found if we weren’t here?”
“Exactly,” Cymry murmured, his eyes drawn up to the green twigs and leaves above them. If he shaded and narrowed his eyes, he could see the pairs of leaves jutting out on opposite sides of each stem, along with the wealth of pale berries that helped it blend into the snow. The sight of the berries brought a smirk to his lips. “A fertility blessing for us both,” he commented. “Maybe a strong enough one to land you a wife.”
“You’re the one who needs that blessing, not me,” Gaius teased back, nudging him.
He countered the nudge with a shove and laughed when Gaius fought back. They grappled with one another for a minute, circling once around the thick trunk of the oak tree before Gaius managed to pin him to the bark by his wrists. The sudden exertion and position he found himself in set Cymry’s heart pounding in his chest. “You know,” he breathed, “it’d be a shame to waste the good omen.”
Gaius leaned in, and the fog from their breath mingled between them, a teasing hint of warmth against Cymry’s lips. “A shame indeed,” Gaius purred before claiming his lips.
The kiss was anything but chaste, and Cymry moaned as their tongues twined in a way that was far more familiar than most of the others in their tribe likely guessed. They had been friends since childhood, and until they took wives, there was no shame in enjoying such pleasures. Perhaps the act would be blessed by the sacred plant they found. Cymry wasn’t going to complain, either way. The kiss sent his pulse racing, and when Gaius finally released his wrists, he reached down to find Gaius just as hard and eager as he was.
He moaned as nimble fingers weaseled their way between his furs and simple rags to stroke firmly at him, and he returned the favor, devouring every sound he was able to wring from Gaius’ chest. They panted and groaned into each other’s mouths, and it wasn’t long before a perfect stroke and brush of Gaius’ thumb over the head of him sent him over the edge with a choked moan. He twitched and shuddered, his clothing feeling far too warm, even in the chilly mid-morning.
Gaius pulled his hand from Cymry’s furs, and when Cymry caught sight of his pearly fluids, he couldn’t help but grin. They were the same color as the berries on the plant above their heads, and just on the off chance that the seed of their pleasures might be blessed for that likeness, he dropped to his knees.
Gaius was about to question him when he managed to pull Gaius’ cock free of the furs and suck it between his lips. He heard the crackle of bark above him and knew without looking that Gaius was bracing himself against the trunk of the sacred oak. He moaned as he sucked, bobbing his head until Gaius reached down with one hand and gripped the loose hair and braids near the nape of his neck.
Cymry took his cue and remained still, doing his best to suck while Gaius thrust between his lips. His efforts weren’t in vain; Gaius soon gasped, and Cymry’s mouth was filled with the bittersweet evidence of their passions as he stroked his palms up and down the furs covering Gaius’ thighs. The thrusts slowed, and he moaned as he tucked Gaius’ softening length back into his clothing.
Gaius pulled him upright and pressed him against the tree again, and the kisses they shared were much more gentle and affectionate in the aftermath. He readily shared the bit of seed in his mouth, extended the blessing to Gaius with a purr of satisfaction.
“Still wishing you’d stayed behind?” Cymry murmured with a grin against Gaius’ lips.
“No,” Gaius admitted, his voice a thick, sensual caress that sent Cymry’s toes curling. “Instead of complaining next time, I think I’ll just skip to this.”
“You do that,” Cymry laughed, pulling him in for more kisses.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE! ❤ Health and prosperity to you and yours!