Page 57 of Burying Venus

‘I can’t… please, the cart is not big enough for us both,’ Dermot said. Aubrey, despite his cloistered life, was surely not so naïve. Robert and Tristan never kept their antics secret. Since Robert brought Will to his bed, something must’ve been observed. But whether Aubrey knew another man could ever be a danger to him, Dermot couldn’t guess.

‘It can fit us both,’ Aubrey said, guileless. ‘Please, get in. Think nothing of it.’

The boy was ignorant as a newborn, Dermot was certain. Shuddering, he grasped the cart and pulled himself up, manoeuvring away from Aubrey with all his might. He could think of nothing to say and, endeavouring to hide his interest, lay down with his back turned from the boy. Whether it was theburgeoning pain in his eyes or true exhaustion, he was eager to sleep.

Hearing only the faint clammer of Aubrey doing likewise, Dermot sighed. Except for the occasional gust of wind, the forest was quiet.

‘Dermot?’ Aubrey said.

Feigning sleep, Dermot said nothing. Aubrey was closer than he realised. He didn’t intend to ignite his passion by indulging Aubrey’s sudden desire for conversation, lest he have some sort of dream.

‘I apologise for my behaviour. You’ve been very kind to me, and all I’ve done is ignore you. I could hardly speak to your mother or anyone else in the village. I don’t mean to act as I do. I want to answer, but I get so frightened and I end up saying nothing. My brothers hardly spoke to me, and I’ve neglected proper conversation for so long.’

‘I’ve never found fault with anything you’ve done,’Dermot said immediately, turning so he could watch Aubrey’s silhouette in the dark. He fumbled more than he had in front of Béchard, faced with an entirely different sort of terror. ‘You’re wonderful. And if you don’t want to say anything, I’ll do the talking.’

There was silence between them. Shifting again, Dermot cursed himself as he lay there, naught but air separating their bodies. He’d spoken out of turn, as if Aubrey was his little wife. Certainly no young man he’d met would’ve welcomed such a proposition. Maldred was wily as a wisp, doubtless never caught by man for long, and Will would’ve slapped him across the face. He wondered if Aubrey realised his condition.

‘Thank you, Dermot,’ Aubrey said at last. ‘I would like that very much.’

Interest stirred, Dermot said, ‘Good night then, Aubrey.’

He heard the soft fumbling of cloth and bit his lip. He dared not stroke himself. Closing his eyes, he was instead lulled by thesoft breaths of his companion. At once exhausted and unwilling to move, smothered by a fog in his mind, it occurred to him that there was an unnaturalness to his tiredness. But he could not come to it, for he was asleep mere moments after the realisation.

Visions came to him unaided. Himself and Aubrey in an embrace, lips moving in tandem as he pushed Aubrey against the cart’s edge. He rutted the lordling like an animal, causing him to moan and cry out, more vocal than he’d be in reality. Methodically, he unlaced Aubrey’s clothes, hot with the idea of ridding him of his innocence. Leaping forward like a viper and striking true, Dermot watched as though a stranger to them both.

The creature posing as him, so grotesque and large that the lovemaking resembled rapine, groaned and clasped his hands together, making for Aubrey’s throat.

As Dermot cried out in horror, the whole thing shattered, the dream not of his own making.

Startled upright, Dermot’s breath rattled against his chest. Aubrey slept soundly by his side. Body drenched in sweat, he leaned out of the cart, bile catching in his throat. Soft laughter, chimes as sweet as the wind, echoed through the woods.

Suspicion roused, Dermot put his feet to the ground and crept away. The laughter moved him, Maldred sounding the same. He desired nothing more than to capture the wisps that sniggered as a branch struck his face. They hissed cruelly in a language he could not understand.

‘He found us,’ a voice said, not too far off into the distance.

‘Not without strife,’ said the other. The pair spoke almost indistinguishably, melodically but in complete monotone.

Dermot stood between them. They were young men, waifish as Maldred, lovely as nymphs with lustrous dark hair and golden eyes. They wore a pair of matching robes that nearly renderedthem androgynous, but they would not have been sent to tempt Dermot were that so.

‘Do you think him handsome?’ said the first, strolling over to Dermot and pawing at his shoulder, tugging at an errant piece of hair and blowing in his ear.

The second hummed and approached from the other side, laughing all the while. ‘No, not at all!’ he chimed, grasping Dermot’s arm all the same.

Utterly dismayed, Dermot stepped back but was caught on both sides by the young men. Faeries, he knew at once.

‘Please, stop this,’ Dermot said as the two laughed. Mischievous as a matching pair of imps, they brought their lips to his cheeks and kissed him, hands massaging his chest and inching lower until at last Dermot’s blood seeped to his aching cock. During his rush into the forest, his interest had not abated.

‘If we truly were to stop, you’d weep for want of us,’ the second said. Dermot, struck true by this, groaned as they fondled his cock, running a thumb across the tip. ‘You weep just now.’

‘Come, just a little more,’ the first said.

At this, Dermot’s eyes startled open. He couldn’t recall closing them. Shocks of colour swept his vision, flecks of gold and black alike. While he thought they’d been standing still, they now walked in the burgeoning light of the sun, both faeries frantically ushering him away from the cart.

The second hissed at him, revealing a sharp set of teeth. There must’ve been at least one hundred fangs in that cavern, all tightly bunched together. If the boy tried to suck Dermot’s cock, he’d have been castrated within seconds.

‘Let go!’ Dermot cried. The pair were coaxing him somewhere, leaving him drugged and stumbling.

The faerie boys, grasping him tight from either side and pulling with all their strength, revealed themselves. Gone were the loving caresses and promises of a tumble, they appearedmore demon than nymph. Hissing as they were, faces gaunt and hollow as they yanked him forward, Dermot realised all desire was gone from him.