Author's Note: I feel like this may be a bit short for the site, but I had the idea a couple of weeks ago and it just seemed too timely to pass up! I hope you all enjoy my debut piece for Literotica. Happy May Day, everyone!
All characters depicted in this story are over the age of 18.
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Drums and flame. Her entire world had narrowed to drums and flame. The pulsing, pounding rhythm echoed in her ears, in her feet, in her heart. The flames danced high, almost too high to look over, battling back the darkness of the night. She let herself move without conscious thought, joining the rest of the group as they danced with seeming abandon around the bonfire. Now and then someone would raise their voice in an exultant ululation, and others would join in. It was Beltane, the celebration of spring. The time when the blessings of the gods must be secured, to ensure the fertility of the fields and the livestock, among other things.
Her crown, made of daffodils and marigolds, slipped over one eyebrow, and she paused for a moment to right it. When she did, she realized just how out of breath she was, and withdrew a step or two from the immediate vicinity of the fire. There was drink nearby, water as well as a special wine that had been fermented just for this occasion. She took a little of both, not wanting the pleasant buzzing feeling in her body to diminish, but also aware of what overindulgence could mean. She was the May Queen, after all, and her duties were not yet entirely fulfilled.
She felt a quiet flutter of anticipation in her belly at that thought. The day had already been long and filled with celebrations, most of them familiar to her: the feasting, the singing, and the maypole dance in which she had participated so many times before.
Not this year though,
she thought with a small pang. No, this year she had another part to play. This year, for the first time, she had been allowed to attend the bonfire that was lit as the sun set. She was no longer restricted to childish activities and childish costumes. This year, she wore a nearly ephemeral dress that seemed to float weightlessly as she moved, and nothing else. When she had first donned it, she had remarked to her mother that this must be how the gods feel all the time, so light, airy, and graceful. Her mother had given her a strange look, and replied simply that one could not properly catch the attention of the gods while weighted down with aprons and petticoats. Not much of an explanation, unfortunately, and she really only had a vague notion of what she was actually supposed to
do
tonight. Dance, drink, at some point jump over the bonfire with someone? It wasn't clear what any of this had to do with the gods, but so far it was plenty of fun.
The music surged, and she felt herself being drawn back to the fire. Unable to suppress the joyous laughter that bubbled up from her chest, she rejoined the circle of dancers. She stood out among them, in her gauzy white; the women wore dresses that were somewhat more plain, though still much lighter than their usual garments. The men were shirtless, with plant-based pigment painted in unique designs on their bare skin. They still wore trousers, though they were shorter and finer than usual. Around her, the familiar faces that she saw nearly every day seemed to become strangers, animalistic and ethereal. She wondered if she seemed similarly transformed to them, or if it was simply the drink that changed how she saw things.
A flash of movement caught her eye, and she turned. Across the fire, through the leaping, flickering flames, was a man that she
almost
recognized. She blinked.
Did
she know him? She must, she reasoned. Everyone knew everyone here. It was the nature of living in a small village.
Still...
His face was marked with paint that obscured his features. His hair was longer than she would expect for a man from her village. For a brief moment, she thought he was wearing antlers, but... no.
Just a trick of the light.
His eyes were dark, and he seemed to be gazing just as intently at her. A strange feeling settled over her, a blend of trepidation and delight, and she felt new energy surge through her. An overpowering urge took hold, an urge to show off somehow. Her feet moved of their own accord, spinning and leaping, all for his attention. Gradually, her dance brought her around the fire, to where she could see him more clearly.
His skin was painted in spiral patterns that seemed designed to accentuate his lean muscles. He moved with a sort of feral grace that she certainly didn't recognize as anyone she knew, although it was still difficult to recognize anyone around the circle properly. And he still hadn't taken his eyes off of her, she realized. There was something
hungry
about the way he looked at her, something that she felt ought to be frightening but was somehow more...
exciting
. On impulse, she spun once more, allowing her momentum to fling her hand out toward him.
He caught it.
For a moment, all she could notice was how unusually soft his skin was. That was not a farmer's hand. Her mouth went dry as she realized that she had no idea what to do now. Fortunately, he seemed better prepared, twirling her around and somehow incorporating her dance into his. She allowed him to lead her, trying not to wonder at how graceful she suddenly felt. Perhaps it was the dress?
The drumming slowed, then came to a halt, and they stood where they were, breathing heavily and gazing at each other. She felt rooted to the spot, unable to focus on anything but him. His dark eyes completely ensnared her, seemed to drink her in until she thought she might drown in their depths. Dimly, she could hear someone speaking. The elder? Paying attention was a struggle. Her partner gave her a small knowing smile, then nodded in the direction of the bonfire.
The fire.
Of course. They were supposed to jump over the fire. Her eyes widened at the thought. It was so high! How could they possibly make it safely? Didn't they want it to burn down some first? She looked around, about to protest, but a gentle pressure stopped her. Her eyes went first to his hand, still holding hers, then met his gaze.
