Here's a one shot I came up with today. It is rated M, but it's not too explicit. I hope you like it!
High King Peter was having the time of his life, taking part in the Midsummer celebrations.
The celebrations lasted from June 23rd to June 28th, and were full of feasts, bonfires and dancing.
Peter and his siblings, Susan, Edmund and Lucy, had ruled Narnia for eight peaceful years, and were used to participating in the Midsummer celebrations.
The young King, who had recently reached his twenty-first birthday, wore a red tunic, with a golden lion emblazoned on the front, a golden cape was around his shoulders, and his tan breeches were tucked into his dark boots. His golden hair was neatly combed, until he began running his hands through it, which turned it into a ruffled mess. He had neatly shaved his growing beard, so his chin and cheeks were smooth once more – something his sisters preferred.
He sat on a fallen tree log, holding a goblet of red wine in his hand as he watched his brother and sisters dance with the Fauns, Dryads, Satyrs, Centaurs and many other Narnian creatures.
The night sky was an inky black, dotted with the sparkling eyes of stars and the curvature of the silver moon. The clearing they were in was large, and surrounded by trees, however, the east side was also where the entrance to the forest lay.
In the centre of the clearing was a large bonfire, as tall as at least five full-grown men, and twice as wide. It was made up of unwanted wood, given to the Narnians by the Dryads, of course, and many a creature was dancing around the bonfire. A group of Fauns created the music that pulsed throughout the clearing and deep into one's bones; it kept all who listened and danced to it awake far longer than they would usually be. Dotted about the clearing were tables, made of the finest marble known to man, with mounds of food and gallons of wine all situated on them, ready to be eaten and drunk by any who wish so.
The beauty and lure of the Midsummer celebrations are almost too hard to put into words; they're all the best bits of the best celebrations out in Narnia and Earth.
A cheerful cry from one of the Fauns, followed by yells of joy and a round of applause, Peter looked over to the forest entrance, where a man, sat atop a donkey, came into view.
Peter stood on his feet and joined in with the calling; Bacchus had arrived for the celebrations.
The god had taken on the form of a young man, with brazen skin, blonde hair and brown eyes, who also held a goblet of wine in his hand. He wore a toga of the finest white silk, held in place by a bronze brooch on his right shoulder, and his wreath of laurel leaves, dotted with vines and bunches of grapes, was titled slightly to one side. This appearance gave him the look of a drunken man, but if you knew him, you would know that all the wine in the world would not intoxicate him, as one goblet of wine would do to men on Earth.
However, Peter had his eyes on the dancing girls behind Bacchus' donkey – the Maenads.
In Greek myth, back on earth, the Maenads would kill men for their flesh, but in Narnia, they were more subdued. They did still go into a state of ecstatic frenzy, through a combination of dancing, drunken intoxication and incontrollable sexual desires, but they preferred the fruits and wines Bacchus gave to them. There were many of them, all devoted followers to Bacchus, but they each were as alluring and sly on their own as their great Lord.
The Maenads joined in with the dancing, either in small groups with each other and some Narnians, or on their own with their eyes closed and their arms raised. Peter watched his brother dance with two of the Maenads, and with a knowing smile, watched as Edmund allowed the two to pull him into the trees.
Peter knew what would happen; he himself had enjoyed the company of Maenads several times before, and allowed Edmund to have his fun.
"Peter, my good King," Bacchus roared, slapping the High King on his arm as he came to sit on the log.
"Bacchus, my Lord," Peter nodded his head courteously towards the god.
"And how are you on this fine evening?"
"I am well indeed."
As Peter answered Bacchus' question, a tall Maenad, with copper skin, waltzed over to them and beckoned Peter closer, her dress already beginning to slip from her shoulders.
The Wine God roared with laughter when the Maenad pouted and flounced away, unhappy that Peter made no notice of her actions. Two more, this time both were shorter but curvier than the first, tried to lure Peter into the woods by their dances, but they were rejected, just as the first.
"You are one hard man to satisfy; you shun away all of my women, but accept my wine," here, Bacchus leaned closer to Peter. "You do realise these pleasure are not to be tossed to the side, such as the meaningless girls who try to attract you at your court?"
"Aye, my Lord, but none have appealed to me, so far," Peter, added the last comment as he'd heard about the fury of Bacchus when he and his women weren't 'good' enough for some Narnians.
"Ah! I like you, my friend; you are like me and accept only the best. Here, my newest woman is, I find, more delectable than the rest, and she knows the best tricks of the trade, so to speak," the young God nudged Peter with a coy wink, before calling a name out in Greek.
Peter tried to tell him that he didn't accept only the best, but was silenced when he saw the Maenad, that Bacchus had called, glide over to them.
The Maenad was beautiful, to say the least; she was fairly tall, not as tall as the first Maenad Peter had met, but she had slender limbs, she walked barefoot, and had flaming red hair, which flowed down her back. The Princess's and Duchess's who came to Cair Paravel to try to court either Peter or Edmund would have been shocked at the amount of skin the Maenad showed and how flimsy her dress was, but Peter loved the sight of it. The dress, with the light of the bonfire behind the Maenad, became as translucent as the wing of a dragonfly. The top of her dress had slipped down her right shoulder, showing the cream coloured skin of the Maenad and hinting at what lay beneath the cloth. It ended just above her knee and floated about her legs with every, strong step she took towards the High King and the God of Wine and Pleasure.
Without Bacchus telling her, she knew exactly what she was wanted to do. Smiling provocatively at Peter, she grasped his wrist with a feather light touch and tugged at his arm, getting him to his feet.
As she danced through the other Maenads and Narnians, she kept a firm grip on Peter's wrist. However, she did not need to, for the Magnificent King was enchanted by the woman before him and followed her, willingly, into the trees surrounding the clearing. Moreover, he knew that, from the look in her eyes, they would not be out of the forest for several hours, even as late as morning.
As soon as they entered the midst of the thick trunks, the music died down, as did the light, but the pulsating beat was always there; they could feel it through the ground and in the air.
They reached a small clearing, this one had the tree canopy protecting it from the rain, where the Maenad stopped and turned to face Peter, pressing her body flush against his.
"You spurned my sisters, yet why do you not spurn me?" she asked him, her breath puffing against his lips.
He looked down into her eyes, noticing how they sparkled with inner mirth and appeared to change colour from deep blue, to dark green, to dark brown, and back to dark blue.
"You are not like your sisters," Peter replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
"And how so?" the Maenad was amused by this comment; all the Maenads wanted the same, danced the same, ate the same and even dressed the same.
"Well," Peter began talking, but stopped when he lifted up his hand and began pushing off the other shoulder of her dress.
She seemed to comply, until Peter began kissing the cream skin of her shoulders.
"No," she pushed him away and, to his disappointment, she pulled the sleeve of her dress back up. "First, we dance."
Peter should have realised that the Maenad preferred to dance before the capture, so he obliged happily.
The Maenad twirled in a seductive dance, taunting Peter by dancing against him, lighting the fire within his body, before spinning away, a coy smile on her face.
However, she was not the only one who could tease.
Peter stepped towards her, after keeping up with the dance, and began to run his hands over her body. Her head fell back on his shoulder, her eyes squeezed shut, her eyebrows scrunched together and her lips parted slightly. Just as she began to settle in to Peter's touches, he stepped back.
With an animalistic sound emitting from her throat, the Maenad spun around and launched herself at Peter, crushing his neck with her arms as she gave him a bruising kiss.
Peter happily responded to the kiss, taking control of the situation and pushing her slim frame against a tree.
"You do know how dangerous it is to tease a Maenad?" she asked him, breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed.
"Of course, who hasn't heard the stories?" Peter asked rhetorically. "How they rip the flesh from the bone, throw it onto the fires and make leather out of the skin? All whilst the man is still alive."
"And yet, you tease and torment as if these stories do not exist?"
"Nay, I know only of my place."
Satisfied with his answer, the Maenad granted him the one kiss. This one was lustier than the last, both of the pair feeling the music helping to feed the fire beginning to roar and burn in their bodies.
Peter, keeping a firm grasp on the writhing woman in his arms, took one slow step back, before deliberately falling onto the moss.
Automatically, the Maenad kneeled above him, her legs neatly and firmly trapping his hips on the ground; this was the preferred position for a Maenad to be in, when conquering men.
Quickly and efficiently, she removed the velvet tunic Peter had been wearing, and tossed it to the side, not caring whether it landed in mud or grass.
Slowly, she used her lips to caress the scarred and toned skin, whilst her hands made their journey south. Slipping them beneath the thin material, the Maenad's hands worked as well as Bacchus had promised, quickly taking and dropping Peter off the edge of oblivion. His groans became the tempo of her actions, which quickly ceased when Peter began to climb back up.
"You truly are the best of the best."
As a reward for Peter addressing her as such, the Maenad allowed Peter's large hands to stroke her back, as one would do with a cat, and slide the translucent fabric off, revealing the soft, creamy mounds and valleys Peter could only dream of.
He moved so she was pinned beneath him, and began to show her the true potential his mouth and hands had, trailing them gently over her skin and only stopping on areas that made the Maenad beneath him squirm and shudder.
He repaid her from her actions before, by allowing her to visit the rise and fall of the edge.
"You make good use of your lips, but your hands are too rough," the Maenad whispered to him, her voice husky as she leant on her elbows.
"Well then," Peter leaned down to kiss the shell of her ear. "Maybe we can work on it together, since I haven't put them to good use for so long."
"Mhm," she arched her back into him, her nimble hands making short work of the task of removing the rest of the material covering them.
Left with only the music to cover them, the Maenad moved to sit atop Peter, and the two began the rhythmic dance, as old as time itself, but as new as the freshest bloom in spring.
Hands were roaming, scratching and kneading, whilst mouths hissed, begged and kissed.
After the dance was complete, Peter knew the Maenad would not be satisfied with just the two activates they had done.
As they slipped deeper into the night, both of them slipped deeper into ecstasy and oblivion, unaware of anything except the other and the music, giving their lovemaking a deep, everlasting rhythm.
By the time the sun was up, both had bade the other farewell and made their way back to the clearing.
Bacchus and the maenads left, whilst the Narnians slept, peacefully ending the Midsummer Celebrations.
As Peter gradually welcomed sleep beside his siblings, he looked forwards to the next solstice – the winter – that would take place in the castle, where there were beds for all and spare.
Just before he slept, he remembered to wish Bacchus the grateful thanks the God deserved, for allowing the Magnificent King to be lured in by wine, music and the helping hand of Bacchus.
I hope you liked it!
Alexandra.