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Category: AU, Drama

Pairing: Qui/Obi (sorta...)

Rating: NC-17 (what else?)

Archive: Master and Apprentice, TMI_Temple, and my site (eventually).

Warnings: character death; spell checked with my dictionary only. *sigh*

Summary: For Master Ruth's TMI challenge (as inspired by Hilary): What if one of the boyz was a god?

Notes: This is the revised version, hopefully minus errors that I missed the first time around. Thanks to Hilary and Master Ruth for the inspiration, and to various folks on the TMI_Temple list for the feedback.

He comes.

Oh, no. *He* comes.

My breathing hitches in my lungs. I must escape!

Branches whip into my face and claw at my hair. Roots trip me, flinging me to my knees in mock devotion. I scramble to my feet, bleeding from numerous scratches, and continue my day-long flight, hunted into the near darkness of leaf and root and branch. My braid, flapping as I run, ends up in my mouth. I spit it out.

A horn cries its challenge from far away, hounds howling nearer in reply. I start, then quicken my pace. So close, He is! He must not catch me!

I did not want this. I *do* not want this. I did not want to take part in the Chase, to accept this 'honour'. But no one would listen as they drove me into the woods, oh no. Blessed you will be, they said. Blessed amongst the Great Stars, they said. Revered forever as a Consecrated One, they said.

Bah. All I will be is dead.

Not what I wanted out of life just yet.

Breathing laboured, I lean against a small sapling to rest momentarily, desperately longing for water and warm clothes and my former life. Despair blindsides me. Who am I kidding? I am merely prolonging the inevitable. They will find me. *He* will find me. And then...oh then.

Despondent, I sink to the loamy earth, scalding tears etching my face. Sweat born of fright chills my bare skin. Not fair! I cry inside. What did I do to deserve this? Why must *my* life be cut short? Sobbing, I cradle my head in my arms, unwilling to look up to see His approach.

After a while my sobbing stops. I suddenly notice the eerie quiet and raise my head in alarm.

Nothing.

I laugh a bit, embarrassed to start at shadows, until I remember again (oh such short-lived forgetfulness!) that I am being hunted to the death. The sudden blast of the horn from almost directly behind me freezes my insides.

Still, I would not meet my death as a coward. I sit up straight. That, alas, is all I can manage. My limbs tremble so violently as to prevent me from standing. Some brave lamb I am, hah!

An ominous rustling warns me of His approach. I don't know how I know this, yet...I can *feel* it, somehow: a buzzing through my nerves like lightning which electrifies every hair on my body. It does nothing to ease my quaking. I look down at the dead leaves from last winter, absently watching the new shoots poke through. So this is the last thing I'll ever see, I think, defeated.

A soft feeling of drums alerts me to His presense. A number of white hounds break through the brush, supernaturally silent. Almost against my will I look up to see Him. Tall, proud, covered with brownish-grey fur and crowned with antlers, He is the image of my hope and the object of all my reverence. And of all my terror, as well.

When nothing untoward happens I lift my gaze to my Lord's. A mistake! He pins me beneath his regard as a hawk would a mouse. My insides squirm helplessly as I behold depths of existence I could never have imagined. I am too mortal for such knowledge, I think, as I struggle to cry out in protest.

Ignoring my inner turmoil He seems to beckon to me without movement.

*Come to me.*

Transfixed, I crawl slowly, awkwardly closer. I feel helpless to do anything else. Now is the time, I am thinking, the time when He will command His hounds to rend me to pieces, leaving me nothing more than carrion for the crows. I whimper as I kneel before Him, gibbering in the dead leaves.

A sparkle of light attracts my eye, and my terror subsides just enough to locate that tantalizing brightness. I find myself staring at a glistening drop of fluid, sitting dew-like on the tip of his - oh, Gods! - his rampant Godhood. My trembling increases, with terror or perhaps something other. I am too confused to say.

*Come.*

The invitation is unmistakable. With the speed of a moving glacier I lean closer to that luminescence, shocked at such an action. I can see each individual hair that curls around His thighs, cradling His genitals. Such a luxurious pelt, so soft....

I suddenly lose all control and grab His legs, burying my face in one furry thigh. I sob my terror and my rage, clutching great fistfuls of fur, letting my tears beg for mercy. If He feels any pain or remorse from it He gives no sign.

A soft touch on my head calms me immediately, uncannily so. I look up questioningly, not sure of what I will see. Disapproval? Anger? No. I will tell you - I would have expected rather the moons to set in the east than to see such Love coming from such a one as He.

Its force sweeps through me, painful, yet not - I cannot describe it. All I know is that my own heart answers His in return with the reverence and love I have always felt for Him from childhood. Something hot and bright within me melts away all my fear, and I loosen my death grip on his legs, though I leave my hands there still.

*Come.*

Again the invitation. A small burst of trepidation shoots through my stomach as I look again at the drop of moisture. Greatly daring I let my tongue flick out to capture it, hoping that I have not misunderstood His wishes.

Something behind my eyes explodes. I taste galaxies and rain, sunlight through new leaves, and rot. Taste trees waking from winter's sleep, and the pregnancy of a doe. Taste sunshine and storm, lightning and dew. I am All Things and No Thing, infinite and mortal, dying and rising, all in one great circle.

So bemused am I by the experience that I do not notice He has moved until I feel His hands caressing my chest. The visions fade and are replaced with fire. I arch into His chest and cry out in unexpected rapture, His fingers dancing into the hollows of belly and hip. If this is how I am to die, I think, I will gladly do so.

*Yes.*

His grip tightens on me. I feel His cock behind me, demanding entrance. I struggle briefly, afraid again. In reply He bites into my neck, holding me fast. Desire abruptly fills me, enough to drive out the fear. I moan my pleasure, my hips moving against Him almost of their own volition. My movements become more frantic, trying to reach that pinacle of pleasure I desire so.

"Master-!"

Sharp pain lances through me as He impales me, with pleasure so intense I think I will be torn apart. His tongue traces patterns on the back of my neck that send the God Fire up my spine and out my head. His hands on my cock drive me to distraction; His lips and teeth leave bruises and blood. The rough fur on his legs rub me raw. I am being devoured, and I no longer care.

He grips the braid that hangs from my head and pulls me back, painfully so. Still, the gesture thrills me like nothing else. My God is claiming me. Claiming *me*. The thought sends me closer to my most longed for and feared abyss. Too soon this will be over. And I will be dead.

I sense rather than feel the impending eruption behind me. He grunts, and a searing heat slices into me, sending my soul ripping through my body. No longer imprisoned, I run stag-like into the forest, bellowing my triumph and delight. Beside me runs my Mate, glowing with the God Fire inside Him. My own light is more subtle, more of the Moon's making that the Sun's, with my antlers glinting silver to His gold.

We race through the trees and mists, giddy and free. My blood drums in my ears in time to our thundering passage. In the distance the hounds bay, the last farewell of my Master's servants. He will see them again, but I will not. I know somehow I am destined to go elsewhere.

Before us a gateway opens, brilliant with the light of a thousand thousand stars, and dark with the mystery of terrifying depths. I look at Him in question, and He urges me on with one last cry. Triumphant I gather my strength, and leap towards Infinity.

Oh.

There is no Death.

There is ...*THIS*.

The villagers find him lying dead later that afternoon. In soft, fragrant cloths they wrap him and carry him lovingly to their temple, his enigmatic smile shielded from the profane.

The harvest this year will be fruitful, thank the God.

*end*