The Satyr

"Find me in your dreams,

find me in your heart,

find me where our souls have met,

when the new moon starts"

Stars twinkled over the land from their vast indigo blanket of sky. Deep in the Northreach forest, a warm glow and cheery music rose up from the hidden glade as a bonfire roared in its center. The area was full of horned, hoof-shorned Satyr men. They danced and caroused about, drinking, eating and playing their instruments. It is well known that Satyrs are great party-people, and love their joyous and sometimes raucous affairs.

As the party wore on, one particulary graceful Satyr named Rociel stood and danced, playing his pipes along with the other men. His long white tail swished along with his hips as he moved, undulating about the fire. All the while, his amber eyes bore into another young Satyr, who was sitting along with some other men, eating, talking and laughing. He had caught sight of him earlier, and had not taken his eyes from him all night.

As if the young man could feel his gaze, his head turned, and his emerald eyes flickered as he caught sight of Rociel. Rociel continued to dance and stare at him, his movements becoming more beckoning, and he tossed his horns, flipping one long wine-coloured braid over his shoulder. The young Satyr stood and jauntily walked over, falling into step with the dance that Rociel had begun.

They moved together, untouching, but never looking away from each other. It was a dance of lust, and they both knew it. A kind of unspoken understanding had formed between them.

The song ended, and Rociel at once turned from the dark-haired man before him, swaying off from the fire and the rest of the men to the trees and darkness. He knew the other would follow.

He stopped at a large Dogwood tree. Blooms of fragrant pink flowers hung down over a thick carpet of moss. As he waited, he heard soft hoofsteps approaching him, then a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Quickly, he grabbed the young man and pulled him around, shoving him against the bark of the tree. He held him there and kissed him roughly. The young man seemed shocked at first, then returned the kiss, his arms going about Rociel's neck. Rociel put his arms around him, his large hand going up to entwine in the others silky dark hair. He broke the kiss.

"What's your name?" He asked urgently.

"Cyric." Came the breathless answer.

"Cyric," he said. "I"m going to have you."

And with that, he grabbed hold of the young man's horns, tilting back his head and voraciously nibbling at his throat. Cyric groaned and closed his eyes.

"Yes, yes... Have me any way you want," he said in a low moan. He arched against Rociel, pushing his already engorged sex into the soft white fur that covered his leg. Rociel returned the favour, his hips gyrating in a slow movement against Cyric, their organs rubbing against each other.

Rociel began travelling down Cyric's deeply tanned chest, his hungy lips finding the dark bud of his hard nipple. He bit it gently, then licked it, sucking it into his mouth. Cyric groaned, his head falling back to rest against the tree. Rociel continued further down Cyric's body, exploring with his mouth.

His hands rested on the younger man's thighs, and he stopped, pulling back to look up at the chestnut haired boy, giving him an almost teasing look. Cyric rocked his hips forward, his body churning with desire, the look on his face pleading. Rociel smiled up at him, then eagerly took the hard member into his mouth.

Cyric groaned loudly, his hands atop Rociel's dark burgundy hair as Rociel worked him. Sighing and panting with each lick, each suck, he began to shudder, signalling that he was about to explode.

Rociel pulled off him. "Not yet, beautiful. Not like that."

He pulled him from the tree and pushed him down to his knees on the lush carpet of moss, then moved behind him. He pulled Cyric up, so that he was sitting upright, and then used his own knee to spread the sandy-haired legs even further. Wrapping his arms around Cyric's lean chest from behind, he nibbled his ear gently as he positioned himself against the tight opening that lay hidden in the crevice of the boy's body.

He began to push in slowly, very slowly, yet steadily, against the tight, unyielding flesh. Cyric let a low moan, shifting his hips slightly, and Rociel was in, penetrating deeper into the hot flesh that squeezed him, held him. He pulled back and in again, the delicious friction was wonderful to him. His hips began to move easier as he rocked against Cyric. Rociel slipped his hand down to Cyric's member, bouncing in a wild dance in the air with each thrust he gave, and gripped it. He moved his hand in time with his own thrusts. Cyric's head lolled back against his shoulder as his back arched, his orgasm coming quickly, and soon Rociel was clinging tightly to him as his own orgasm wracked his body, his seed spilling deep within the quarters of Cyric.

The two men tumbled over to the ground, gasping and panting, clinging to each other. Cyric rolled over on his side, kissing Rociel. He lay his dark head on the others shoulder, sighing contently as Rociel held him, and soon fell asleep.

Light broke the next day, filtering through the pink Dogwood blooms to warm the cheek of Cyric. His emerald eyes fluttered open, he rolled over lazily to smile at Rociel.

He stopped. Rociel wasn't there.

He looked on his other side, still there was no Rociel.

He blinked. Then he noticed a deep purple bloom laying at the base of the tree. It was a hyacinth flower. He picked it up and noticed dangling from it was a golden locket. He looked at the locket, and smiled. He put it on over his head, the long chain allowing it to rest over his heart. He wandered off from the tree, back to where the party had been the night before, the smile never leaving his face.

The locket had read, "Find me in your dreams, find me in your heart, find me where our souls have met, when the new moon starts. My name is Rociel."