Owned by Pet Fly

The title of this story has been blatantly stolen from the novel of that name by Christian McLaughlin. I'd like to think he'd approve of the use to which it has been put.)

The mission had gone wrong right from the start, and now Jim Ellison was alone. He buried his parachute, smeared a little more combat paint on his face and set off for higher ground. It was too dark to get his bearings, but he knew he'd been blown well off course. Come morning, if he was high enough, maybe he'd be able to figure out exactly where he was and find the rest of his team.

Unfortunately, the Germans found him first. Falling back, but gaining ever higher ground, Jim spent most of the night dodging their patrols. It looked like the Brits had royally screwed this one up - the enemy was supposed to be miles from here, and even the distance the wind had carried him off course shouldn't have put him this far behind enemy lines. For the first time Jim began to regret having joined up with the British Army when it became apparent his own country had no intention of entering the war.

Morning came, but that only made it easier for the Krauts to see him. They were hunting him now, and the instinct to run to higher ground had led Jim into a trap he might not be able to get out of as the trees grew further apart and more stunted. Soon he might run out of cover altogether.

It happened even more quickly than he'd anticipated. Suddenly he was on the edge of a large clearing with enemy on either side of him, and nowhere to go but across the clearing and just hope like hell that he'd reach the trees on the other side before a shot took him. Jim dropped the small pack he'd carried all night, and taking only his handgun, ran for his life.

He was halfway across when the shouting started. Then gunfire, though only a couple of shots came anywhere near him. With a last burst of energy, Jim made it to the trees on the upper side of the clearing and kept going. The sound of gunfire became muted and finally faded altogether. He stopped and leaned against a tree, gasping for breath and pressing a hand against his aching side.

"Oh Man, what are you doing here?" The light voice spoke perfect English, with an American accent.

Jim nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't seen anyone, or heard anyone approach. He turned, warily, to face the speaker and decided that it must all have been a dream... no, make that a nightmare. The creature that faced him was not human.

He - it was definitely male - was small, barely reaching Jim's shoulder, and slender. Long, dark, lustrous curls tumbled over light olive skinned shoulders and didn't quite hide a pair of tiny horns on the creature's forehead. Angelic blue eyes and cherubic lips made a strange contrast with the satanic flaring brows, pointed ears and horns. Jim filed that cultural stereotype away for later reference and continued his examination. From the waist up, the creature was - mostly - human in appearance. Bare chest, lightly dusted with dark hairs, nut brown nipples that seemed to be permanently erect. Navel. From there down was a whole different territory.

Instead of normal, human legs, the creature had disproportionately larger, muscular thighs and narrow, fragile lower legs, like... like a goat's, Jim realised. And, like a goat, they were covered with a thick mat of curly reddish-brown fur. It had hooves. Honest-to-God cloven hooves. Jim's eyes travelled back up to the place they'd been avoiding and frankly stared. The creature's thighs weren't the only part of it that were disproportionate - its genitals were human sized, generously so - and it looked as though the creature was about to pop a boner at any moment.

The creature looked amused by Jim's scrutiny. "Are you satisfied, bold warrior?"

"Not really." Jim wondered briefly whether there was any point in talking to a figment of his imagination and then decided to go with it. "What the hell are you?"

"A satyr." The creature leaned casually against a nearby tree trunk. "Surely you've heard of my kind?" Jim shook his head silently and the satyr pouted. "Don't they give boys a classical education any more?"

"Apparently not." It was obvious the satyr was harmless. Jim could have broken it in half without raising a sweat. He folded his arms over his chest and stared sternly at the creature. "Can you help me evade those troops back there?"

"I've already done that." Amusement replaced annoyance. "I'm Blair, by the way."

"Blair?" Jim blinked. "What kind of name is that for a satyr?"

A sulky expression chased away the amusement; Blair was nothing if not mercurial. "You couldn't pronounce my real name. I heard this one a while ago, from a passing Human. Don't you like it?"

The plaintive tone of the question unsettled Jim. "Uh... no, not... I mean, I just didn't expect..."

"Then you're forgiven." Blair smiled blindingly at him. "And what is your name, oh big and muscular one?"

He decided to give in to the increasingly irrational nature of the conversation. Time enough to worry about it when he woke up in a lunatic asylum. "My name is Jim Ellison. Now, about those..."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about them." Blair straightened and turned away. "Follow me, JimEllison."

"Just call me Jim." But the satyr was rapidly disappearing between the trees.

It was all Jim could do to keep up. That satyr was fast. It took some time before Jim was able to catch him, and then only because Blair slowed his pace. Jim grabbed him by the arm and had to re-evaluate his appraisal of the creature - the slim arm was all wiry muscle, and strong.

"Hey. Where are you taking me?" Somewhere on the journey Jim had decided that, crazy or not, it was his duty to rejoin his team. "I need to..."

"Jim, you've wandered onto Mount Olympus." Blair looked at him expectantly, then sighed. "The Abode of the Gods. You know - Zeus, Aphrodite, Apollo?"

"You're kidding me. Gods?" Jim conveniently ignored the entirely mythical nature of the creature before him and laughed. "You expect me to believe they're real?"

"Believe me, when Hephaestus throws one of his bolts at you, it'll feel real enough." Blair rubbed his flank reflectively. "Anyway, to get to the point... you want me to do that, don't you?" He waited for Jim's assenting nod before continuing, "If you want to leave again, you have to pay honour to one of the gods. In this case, it's Bacchus' turn, which is why I was sent to meet you."

There was something unnerving about the quality of the smile on Blair's lips. It was entirely too... anticipatory. "So what is Bacchus the god of?"

Blair rolled his eyes, then spoiled the effect by grinning wickedly. "Drunkenness and debauchery. He's lots of fun."

"So I have to get drunk?" This wasn't so bad.

Blair shook his head, still grinning.

"Oh. So, where are they, then?" Jim peered over Blair's shoulder looking hopefully for the obligatory nubile maidens, and ignoring the churning in his stomach.

"I was sent to meet you, oh manly one." Blair's eyes swept up and down Jim's body in a blatantly approving survey.

"Now, hold on there, Chief." Jim frowned. Inexplicably, his heart had begun to beat faster. "I'm not sure that doesn't count as bestiality."

"I am not a beast." Blair's face darkened alarmingly. "If I am willing to honour the god with a mere mortal, then you have no reason to object."

"All right. All right... no offence intended." Jim raised his hands and smiled peaceably. "This is kind of unexpected. An hour ago I didn't even know things... uh, people... like you existed. I'm still adjusting to the idea and now you tell me I have to... to... um..."

The anger faded out of Blair's face to be replaced with more amusement. He seemed to find a lot of things amusing, Jim reflected sourly. "Well? Shall we get on with it, most masculine one?"

Okay, he could do this - whatever it was that Blair expected him to do. If he could kill for a country not even his own, then surely he could have sex for it. Jim nodded decisively. "Now? What do you want me to do?"

"You can't honour the god like this!" Blair indicated Jim's grubby, crumpled and very sweaty fatigues. "Besides, there's a grove nearby set aside for the Lord Bacchus. We'll go there."

It only took a few minutes to reach the grove. Jim paused on the edge of it, partly out of caution, partly from shock. There was a slightly unreal quality to the sunlit clearing - everything was just a little bit too perfect, from the sparkling waterfall to the wildflowers to the gently steaming spring. Fruit trees and grapevines bordered the grove, all in fruit, even though some of them, to Jim's knowledge, fruited at wildly different times of the year. The air was heady with the scent of lavender and thyme and oranges.

Blair was watching him complacently. "First you need to be clean."

"Okay." That was fine by Jim. The hot spring looked pretty damn inviting, and he wouldn't mind postponing the main event. He began to strip. "I'll just soak for a while, if you don't mind."

"You can't get in there dirty!" Blair was staring at him aghast. "What kind of barbarian are you? You cannot pollute the holy spring."

Jim shrugged. "Then how am I supposed to get clean? The waterfall?" It looked like it might be cold, but he guessed he could deal with that.

"No! You'll get clean the civilised way." Blair glowered at him. He pointed to a low backless couch that definitely hadn't been there a moment ago. "Lie down on that."

Jim lay, face down, on the couch, then wondered if that was such a good idea. But if he turned over... he decided to stay as he was. A moment later he felt warm liquid trickling down his spine. "What are you doing?"

"Don't you know anything?" Small, strong hands kneaded the oil into his back. It felt undeniably good, and Jim groaned with pleasure as tense muscles relaxed. "First the oil, then I scrape it off with a strigil. Then you bathe."

"Strigil?"

There was a long sigh from above his head and the massage stopped. "This."

Jim turned his head and opened one eye to look at the slim bronze implement. It was a roughly 'L' shaped blade with the upright part forming a handle. "How sharp is that?"

"Not at all. See?" Blair drew the strigil along Jim's bicep to demonstrate. "Now will you just let me do this for you?"

"Sure. Go right ahead." Jim relaxed into the massage and allowed himself to drift sleepily. He'd been without sleep for close on twenty hours, and though he could last longer, it wouldn't hurt to nap a little.

The scrape of the strigil along his back roused him from a light doze. Blair was right, it felt pretty good. Every inch of his body was covered, then Blair tugged at his shoulder. "Turn over, sleepy one."

"Uh..." Jim was suddenly aware of his usual reaction to a massage, but he supposed there was no point in being shy, if he and Blair were going to... to 'honour' the god.

Blair was blatantly checking him out. He smiled and nodded approvingly. "The Lord Bacchus will be pleased."

"Yeah. Whatever." Heat spread through his face and body. He resisted the urge to cover himself with his hands.

"So will I." The tone was decidedly impish. "And you too, of course."

Jim wasn't too sure of that, but prudently held his silence. Still, by the time his front had been oiled and scraped, and he'd soaked for a while in the hot spring, he was feeling mellow enough to think that maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Blair lay on his side, feeding grapes to Jim, one by one, and gently touching his arm or shoulder occasionally. It was very idyllic, but then, that was probably the point.

It wasn't just uncertainty about what was to follow that kept Jim soaking in the spring. Tiredness was starting to catch up on him. He snapped his head up suddenly and saw Blair's affectionate smile. "I think, my hero, that you should get out before you fall asleep."

Jim climbed out grumbling a little, but it was good advice. Unbidden, he plunged under the waterfall, and found it as cold as he'd expected. Invigorating enough to banish his drowsiness; he suspected he'd need to keep his wits about him. Blair handed him a length of cloth, soft and absorbent enough to dry himself with.

Jim patted himself down, absently watching the satyr. "Now what?"

Blair smiled and swept an arm around to indicate a mound of furs and cushions that, once again, had appeared out of nowhere. Now if he could only patent that... Jim turned wordlessly and went over to lie there. The furs were real, but he'd expected that. The cloths and cushions looked to him to be silk - smooth and sensuous, and thick-piled velvet, like a caress against his skin. All at once, his heart was beating wildly.

The satyr joined him, reclining on his side to survey the mere mortal. Jim bridled nervously under his appraising eyes. "Well?"

"It would not be honouring to the god to rush things, Jim." Blair's voice was soothing, his eyes almost tender. "Let us get to know one another."

"Okay." Jim had hardly got the word out when Blair's lips brushed against his. Well... that was all right. Just a kiss, like any other kiss Jim had experienced. He lifted a hand tentatively to toy with Blair's silken curls.

The second kiss was even better. Jim melted into it, closing his eyes and forgetting just who... or maybe that should be what... he was kissing. His lips parted and a hot little tongue darted into his mouth, tasting of honey and wine. Oh... this was... Jim sucked on the tongue and slid his hands into Blair's hair to pull him closer.

He was moaning. Goddammit, he was moaning into Blair's mouth, drunk on the taste and the delicious sensation that wasn't at all like any kiss he'd ever known. He felt Blair's laughter vibrating against his lips and it was good. It was all so incredibly good. He wasn't aware, until it stopped, that Blair had been touching him - on his chest, his arms, his face. And when it stopped he felt like his world was crumbling.

"Not too fast, sweet one. First we must honour the god, then we may please ourselves." Blair brushed a quick kiss against his cheek. His hands moved confidently over Jim's body, teasing at his nipples until they were as hard and erect as his own.

Jim rolled onto his side to face the satyr, and this time his eyes didn't flinch away from the strange body before him; it was beautiful in its own way. He touched the slightly coarse hair on Blair's breast, rubbed lightly over a nipple, then placed his hand firmly on one muscular haunch. The fur there was much coarser, but not unpleasantly so. He stirred the thick curly mass with his fingertips and kneaded the muscle beneath as Blair sighed and nuzzled his throat.

Only the touch of Blair's hand on his thigh roused Jim from the almost hypnotic trance he'd fallen into. He caught his breath sharply and tensed. His body wanted what was obviously going to come next, there was no doubt about that; Jim just wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"Jim?" Blair's quiet voice was husky with pleasure. It sent shivers through his body.

"Mmmn." Jim kissed the swollen, luscious lips, and moved so the hand slipped just a little higher.

Taking it for the invitation Jim had intended, Blair's hand drifted lightly over Jim's balls and closed loosely around his cock. "Oh wondrously well-endowed one..."

"Do you always talk like that?" Jim chuckled softly, and then gasped as Blair did something that sent a huge, almost painful, throb from his cock up into his chest and took away all power of speech.

"The gods like it." Blair lifted himself onto his elbow and looked down at Jim's body. "And you, Human, are the first I've met in a very long time." He lowered his head and took hold of Jim's nipple between sharp little teeth, then sucked gently. As Jim's back arched up off the furs, he raised his head and clucked patronisingly. "You mortals... always in such a hurry. If you spill your seed on the ground the Lord Bacchus will not be pleased."

Jim got an image of a drunken pissed off god in his head and decided not to risk the possibility that the Lord Bacchus actually existed. He met Blair's eyes with a calmness he didn't really feel. "So what do we do about it?"

"Well..." Blair's eyes danced with mischief. "I could..." He swooped down, nose to Jim's groin and licked gently at the tip of his cock.

"Oh God..." Jim clenched his fists in the furs and broke into a sweat. "If you do that... oh God, yes, that... then won't it kind of defeat the purpose here, Chief?"

"What do you mean, Jim?" Blair looked up at him inquiringly.

He had to swallow before he could get another word out. "Well, I'm not going to be able to... you know..." Damn, he just couldn't say it! "If I come, then how am I supposed to...?"

"Oh!" Blair looked amused, damn him. "Oh, you think... oh no, Jim, it's the other way around. You are making the offering, not me."

That had better not mean what he thought it meant. But a sinking feeling in his gut told him that was exactly what it meant. He growled at Blair and saw the satyr's face turn wary. "No. No way, you furry little monster. You are not putting that..." he removed his hand hurriedly from the body part in question (and how had it got there in the first place?), "anywhere near my ass."

A look of offended disdain spread across Blair's expressive features. "So you're one of those. Too full of your own manliness to consider the delights of being the receptive one."

"I am not!" Jim snapped out the words before he could think about them. "Okay, so maybe I am, but you've gotta cut me a little slack here. I could handle it the other way, but this is new territory for me, Blair. You can't expect me to jump in the deep end."

"The deep end of what?" Blair looked confused for a moment and then his eyes lit up and he scrambled up onto his feet... hooves. "You're a virgin!"

Before Jim could take a breath to deny it, Blair laughed delightedly. "This is wonderful. A virgin offering... the Lord Bacchus will be pleased." His tiny hooves were tapdancing with excitement, making his cock bob up and down with his movements.

Jim managed to tear his eyes away with great difficulty. "I just told you I'm not..."

"Oh, but you must!" The blue eyes that had been full of wicked merriment were now shamelessly pleading. He sank down again and stroked Jim's cheek, his voice practically crooning. "To introduce you to the greatest pleasure a man can experience... it's a gift and a privilege, even if it was not done in honour of the god. You must let me do this for you, my Athoni."

"Your what?" Desperate to delay, Jim seized on the one thing that didn't seem likely to lead to him being fucked.

"My Athoni. He is a beautiful youth who was killed by a boar." Blair smiled sweetly. "In her grief Aphrodite caused red flowers to spring up where his blood fell. Every year he returns from the Underworld to be with her for just one season. You are as beautiful in my eyes."

It was difficult to keep up his moral indignation in the face of such blatant flattery. All the more so, because Jim suspected that the little satyr meant every word of it. "Look, it's not that I don't want to... at least... well, I don't want to... much..." Jim swore under his breath and tried to get a grip on himself, "but it's going to hurt. A lot. And I don't need that when I'm..." A small hand, placed over his lips silenced him.

"I would never hurt you, Jim. Besides, if I did, it would not be pleasing to the god. The Lord Bacchus requires pleasure, not pain, from his devotees." Blair removed his hand and kissed Jim's lips tenderly. "I promise you will feel no pain."

Jim couldn't help glancing down at Blair's cock. His fingers followed his eyes, tracing over the veins showing blue just below the surface. It wasn't very different from his own, except that it had neither a foreskin, nor any sign of circumcision, it was simply a smooth tapering column from base to tip. He stroked a little harder and Blair shivered, pressing against him.

"All right." He couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. But if this was all the hallucination he believed it to be, then what did he have to lose? "What do we do first?"

Blair smiled lasciviously. "First I relax you." And he ducked his head down and began to suck expertly on Jim's cock.

The long seduction had left him with little in the way of self-restraint. Jim thrust up into the greedy, generous mouth and howled his pleasure to the skies. Another couple of thrusts and it was over. Jim lay sated, panting, and very relaxed against the silken cushions while Blair licked him from groin to throat, then kissed him thoroughly.

He could feel the insistent pressure of Blair's cock against his hip, but suddenly it didn't seem so threatening any more. If Blair could make him feel like this after just a blow job, then he was willing to believe that he could do anything. So, when Blair gently urged him to roll onto his belly, Jim complied with almost no hesitation.

Still, Jim parted his legs with some trepidation and tried to quieten his breathing. The pounding of his heart was way beyond his control. A gentle brush of coarse hair against the inside of his thighs sent tremors through his body. He couldn't believe he was really going to do this, but he had no intention of backing out now.

Blair's fingers brushed lightly over his ass, parting his cheeks. Jim moaned softly, aroused as much as he was frightened by the touch, but nothing could have prepared him for what he felt next - a soft wet caress across the sensitive ring of his asshole. The response was instantaneous, a faint tingling tremor in his belly and the throb of returning arousal in his cock. God... and this was only the foreplay...

He already knew Blair's talented tongue, in his mouth and on his cock, but he'd never imagined anything like this. It teased and soothed, probed and stroked, and drove him wild with need. Whatever relaxation he'd achieved with his orgasm was lost and forgotten. Soon he'd be begging Blair to fuck him.

"Slowly, sweet one." Blair's voice steadied him and Jim took a couple of deep, gulping breaths, waiting for the next caress.

It was different this time, still moist and slippery, but... and then Blair kissed the curve of his lower back and Jim realised it was Blair's fingers, coated with oil, that were teasing at his ass. As he thought that, a gentle pressure announced the beginning of his education. This part was easy enough. He was able to relax his muscles, distracted by the things Blair's lips were doing to his skin and barely noticed as the finger slid deeper inside him. Then, without any warning, pleasure sizzled along his veins and nerve endings. He nearly leapt off the furs in his shock.

"You see, Jim? This is what I can give you." Blair leaned up to kiss his lips. His finger twisted around inside Jim. "And this." Another finger joined the first. "It's only the beginning, my Athoni."

Jim groaned, moving restlessly against the furs, aroused by their rough silkiness almost as much as by what Blair was doing to him. Unbelievably, his cock was hard again already, and aching unmercifully. He could feel Blair gently stretching him, and then the addition of another finger. Even that was no more than slightly uncomfortable. Blair reached beneath him to stroke his cock with teasing slowness, adding another layer to the sensations that were driving him crazy.

He couldn't help thrusting back against Blair's penetrating fingers, and soon he had his ass in the air, silently begging for more. He didn't care that it was undignified, he didn't care that it went against everything he'd ever been taught about being a man; all he knew was the desperate need he had to feel Blair's cock inside him.

"Soon, my brave one, soon..." For the first time Blair's voice sounded unsteady. He withdrew his fingers and Jim let out a low, sobbing moan. "Be patient."

It felt like an eternity before Jim felt a gentle pressure against his asshole. With what last shreds of self-control remained to him, he waited for Blair to enter him, instead of plunging backwards and impaling himself as he wanted to do. It happened so smoothly, so easily, that Jim barely felt a twinge, only the fullness moving deeper and deeper into his body until the soft, coarse fur of Blair's thighs brushed against the back of his.

Then Blair began to thrust, slowly at first, and then, in response to Jim's groans, faster and faster. He was on his knees now, and Blair took hold of his hips, guiding him into a position where his cock pressed against Jim's prostate with every stroke. It felt so incredible, Jim didn't even think to touch his own, neglected cock. The pressure built until Jim felt like he was going to explode.

"Jim!" Blair's voice drew Jim back out of his dazed pleasure; the sudden withdrawal of his cock caused Jim to moan in anguish. "Jim, it's time... please..."

He tumbled onto his side, curling up almost in agony around the painful arousal that now overwhelmed any other sensation. Dimly he was aware of Blair rolling him onto his back, pushing his legs up and apart, and then Blair was inside him again. New pleasure replaced the pain of separation as Blair thrust furiously, and this time Blair's hand pumped his cock in time with the thrusts until Jim could no longer tell whether he was inside Blair, or Blair inside him.

"Now! Oh, Jim... now!" Blair's cry sent him reeling. Heat exploded through his body; his heat, Blair's heat. Heat burst out of him spattering his belly and chest. Heat covered him like a heavy, furry blanket and he smiled. Blair's heat, as the satyr fell across him, heart pounding violently next to his own.

It seemed impossible that anything could remain the same after that. Whatever reality Jim had once believed in paled into insignificance beside the intensity of what he'd just experienced, and he gave himself up to the indulgence of Blair's hands and body without a thought of the life that had brought him to this magical place.

Throughout the warm night, they made love over and over again, sating every hunger that Jim had ever imagined, and more. It came as no surprise when driads appeared, bringing the fruit of their trees to feed them, or the naiad of the hot spring to caress them with warm, wet hands. Jim even thought he saw the shape of a drunken, priapic god watching them approvingly from across the grove.

He woke with his arms full of sleeping satyr, the long hair spread across his chest like a shawl, and one possessive, furry thigh lying across his own; and knew that he would have to leave. The thought of Blair's disappointed face was more than he could bear, and Jim knew he would never have the strength to leave if Blair begged him to stay. So he slipped free of Blair's limp grasp and went in search of his clothes.

They were lying clean and neatly folded beside the hot spring. With a brief thank you to the naiad, he scooped up a couple of handfuls of warm water to wash away the sticky remnants of the night. Breakfast was no problem - a couple of apples and small bunch of grapes would do. He dressed quickly and left the grove without looking back.

It shouldn't have been difficult to find his way back; Jim was, after all, trained in tracking and covering vast distances in enemy territory, as well as in combat. However it wasn't nearly as easy as he'd expected it to be. Finally, he stood on the edge of the clearing near where he'd first met Blair. There was no sign of the German patrols, but Jim now saw what he'd missed before - a faint shimmering curtain dividing the clearing into two. Beyond it the terrain had a slightly unreal appearance.

So, in here he was protected. Out there, he'd be on his own, in danger again. There really wasn't any choice. Jim slipped the handgun from his belt and checked the ammunition. It wasn't as though he could hope to use it. Any shots would be heard over a long distance, and only bring down the enemy troops on his hapless head. Still, it was comforting to have it there.

"Who are you going to fight, my brave warrior?" Blair's voice held an undercurrent of bitterness. "What is so urgent you could not give me the courtesy of a goodbye kiss?"

"Blair... I'm sorry." Jim turned slowly to face him. "I have to go, but it would have hurt too much to say goodbye. I guess I'm not so brave after all."

"You don't have to leave. Some choose to stay." Blair looked up at him, his face carefully neutral.

Jim shook his head regretfully. "You don't understand. Out there, there's a war on. I have a duty to go back."

"No." Unexpectedly, Blair smiled. "Jim, your war ended fifty-one years ago, as Humans count time. Those who were once your enemies are now some of your closest allies. You do not need to go."

"Fifty-one..." Jim was too stunned to speak for a moment, but he managed to take two steps forward and grab hold of Blair's arms. "What have you done to me?"

"I have done nothing, Jim." Blair's face was completely open, and Jim had no option but to believe him. "That is simply the way of things here."

He released the satyr and stumbled out into the clearing. "What happens if I cross that barrier? Will I age and die?"

"You will be as you are now. Only your world has changed." Blair came up beside him and touched his arm. "Those who knew you are old and believe you died on the night you came here. There is nothing left for you."

"Is that what you wanted?" Jim looked down at him, his voice lacked any heat now. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you knew Jim. Have you never heard of such things?" Sadness laced the gentle voice. "Once it was considered an honour to play with the gods and their creatures. A shepherd or warrior who found his way here would return to his village a hero, little less than a god himself." Blair sighed. "But that was a long time ago, even by our way of measuring time. Are we completely forgotten?"

"Yes." Something in Blair's eyes made him add "I'm sorry. But that's the truth of it."

"And you want to return."

"I have to. Blair, I can't stay here, much as I want to." Jim turned to peer through the veil. When he looked again, Blair was gone.

He ought to just go, but the knowledge that fifty-one years had passed - no, more than that if the war had been over so long - left Jim feeling curiously helpless and afraid. His father had always complained that the world had changed beyond recognition in his fifty odd years. His father would be over a hundred years old, in the unlikely event he was still alive. How much had changed since 1940? He didn't even know what year it was out there.

In spite of that, he had no real doubt that he would go back. Behind him lay a kind of paradise, but he'd never been the type to lie around enjoying life when there was work that needed doing. And there would be work to do. The world couldn't have changed so much in fifty-one years. He sat on the grass and stared out over the trees, wondering what he'd find out there.

"Jim." It was Blair's voice, yet subtly different.

He turned his head and his mouth dropped open in shock. It was Blair, and yet it was not. The figure hesitating on the edge of the clearing was naked, but fully human. His face was a little different, fuller, less fey looking, and his body a little taller and sturdier. He was staring at Jim uncertainly. Jim rose to his feet in one swift movement and strode hurriedly towards his erstwhile lover.

"What's happened to you?" He took hold of Blair's shoulders, needing to feel the solid reality of him.

Blair smiled shakily. "I asked... it was the Lord Bacchus... I asked him for a gift."

"To make you mortal? Blair..." Jim couldn't continue. How could he explain the terrible sense of sadness he felt at the disappearance of his little satyr? "Why?"

"So I can go with you. If you'll take me." Blair leaned forward to kiss him, but Jim held him at arm's length. "Don't you want me Jim?"

The sadness in Blair's voice tore at his heart, but Jim couldn't let him see that. "What will happen to you if you come with me?"

"The same thing that will happen to you, Jim. Eventually I will grow old and die." Blair's eyes met his solemnly, unflinching.

"Then you can't come." Jim gave him a little shove. "Go back Blair. Ask him to change you back."

"No. I want to see your world, Jim. I want to see what made a Human like you." Blair smiled and his face lit up. "I want to feel the urgency of a life that's over in the blink of a god's eye. I want to be with you."

God... He made one last attempt. "I don't even know what's out there. I can't help you, Blair. I don't even know if I can look after myself."

"You don't have to look after me." Blair set his jaw determinedly. "And maybe I can help you."

He laughed helplessly. "You don't even have any clothes."

"I don't need them here. When I need them, I'll have them." Blair reached up and twined his arms around Jim's neck. "Will you take me?"

"Are you going to give me a choice?" It was defeat. Total defeat and abject surrender.

"No." Blair smiled. "Kiss me Jim."

He did, and during the kiss he felt the strangest sensation - as though a part of him was being torn away, like a snake shedding its skin. When he opened his eyes again they were no longer on Mount Olympus. "What is this, Blair?"

Blair looked around him, grinning happily. "Hey, this is great."

They were in an apartment of sorts. A comfortably furnished apartment with a television and a stereo and a whole lot of other things that Jim had never seen before, yet knew the names of. He knew that he'd bought it with money from a stint in the army, and converted it himself. He knew that up those stairs was his bedroom, and that small room beneath it was Blair's, though Blair always slept with him.

"What the hell is going on?" He growled the words at Blair and saw him take a step back.

"Hey, big guy. Take it easy." At another growl Blair smiled placatingly. "I told you I asked the Lord Bacchus for a gift. This is the rest of it. He's given us a life to step into."

"Someone died for this?" Jim frowned.

"No, no! Not like that." Blair caught at his hands, held them still. "He made a life for us and put us in it. Everyone who's a part of it has all the memories they need of us. Who we are, how they met us. That kind of stuff. And he gave us the memories too. Just let yourself remember, Jim."

He closed his eyes and concentrated. He could remember his childhood, his friends and lovers, the jobs he'd had, and the war; but he could also remember another childhood, other friends, laid over the old memories like a blanket. "I'm a cop. This is Cascade, and you're an anthropology student."

"You got it." Blair high fived him and he responded absently, knowing exactly what it meant.

"And I'm going to be late for work." Because, he remembered quite vividly, Blair had refused to let him out of bed without a good-morning-pleased-to-see-you fuck. On cue the phone rang. "And that'll be Simon. What do you think I should tell him, Sandburg?"

Blair shook his head, eyes wide and innocent. Dropping him in it without a second's hesitation. Again.

End Sex Toys of the Gods by elaine: hobbes@quicksilver.net.nz

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