Page 29 of The Death Wish

The ankou handed Pitch the cloak as he took up his trousers. He nodded towards the shed.

‘Do you remember the last time we visited a shed like that?’ Silas’s grin was positively evil as he bent over, taking a preposterous amount of time to cover the thick pillar that dangled between his legs.

Pitch could hardly forget the ramshackle place at the bottom of the garden where Silas had used his tongue in all manner ofways, in all manner of sublime places. But it was also the place where the ankou had first blurted out his deep affections. To think of that moment–of how dreadfully Pitch had handled the occasion– made his empty belly twist in unfamiliar ways.

‘I do,’ he said, with a sniff. ‘But I’ve just slept in the dirt for you, I shall not be fucked in a dusty, spider-ridden old shack, amongst spades and rakes and smelly hessian sacks. I am a prince, I’ll have you know.’

Silas bowed, deeply. ‘Of course, your highness. Forgive me, I am simply overwhelmed by your breathtaking beauty. Best you cover up, before I can no longer contain my passion for your enchanting self, and seek to ravish you, right here upon this pile of dirt.’

‘You would not dare.’

‘I would dare anything for you.’

‘Idiot.’

The ankou righted, and Pitch sucked in his breath. Silas shone. Not with any discernible light, save for that in his eyes, but he was luminous nonetheless. Pitch had not realised how downtrodden the ankou had become, until he was no longer weighted down. He was beautiful; with how alive he truly was.

‘What? Do I have dirt on my face?’ Silas buttoned up his trousers, then dragged on his boots, not bothering to tie the laces. ‘My hair is likely a bird’s nest.’

‘You look dreadful.’ And if they did not get to their room, there was every chance the pile of dirt would suffer for it after all. Pitch threw the cloak over his shoulders, busying himself with the clasp. ‘You shall have to blindfold me before you stick your cock in me, otherwise I shall spend the whole time screaming in terror.’

Silas smiled; a sun breaking over the horizon. ‘I do love you.’

Pitch could hardly blurt out an insipidI rather like you too,or a pitiful, I won’t survive if you are told to leave me, too, sohe had no option but to point out the obvious. ‘Your laces are undone.’

He turned, throwing up the hood of his cloak, and moving as briskly out of the graveyard as his feet would allow without breaking into a run. He had to maintain some level of decorum, after all.

‘Wait, I want to check the shed for a coat. I’m half bloody naked.’

‘I don’t see the problem,’ Pitch called back but did not wait.

There was a delay before he heard Silas following, at a run. His footfalls heavy and steady; their tempo somehow threatening and thrilling at the same time. Pitch threw glances over his shoulder, and nearly squealed at the blatant hunger in Silas’s gaze. The ankou looked awful in the stained smock he’d found, the sooner he was rid of it the better.

Pitch jogged along, feeling as though he were being hunted down by an enormous wolf; and entirely approved of being eaten alive.

Day-break had barely done its breaking, but already the village folk were stirring. A woman stepped from her house, an overflowing basket of laundry at her hip, her eyes widening as she looked up the road behind him. ‘Are you in some kind of trouble, sir?’

‘I truly hope so.’

No sooner had he said it than the pounding of footsteps ceased.

‘Oh, Pitch, wait! Do stop and look at this Christmas tree here in the dressmakers. I think you will adore all the glitter upon it.’

Pitch stopped dead, thinking himself caught in some kind of poor prank. ‘A tree? You wish me to look at a godsdamned tree, right now, Silas?’

He was very aware his stern reprimand gathered many glances. But was the ankou mad?

‘Sorry. No, we can return later.’

There he was, beneath all that brimming, sterling manhood and vigour; the dolt who apologised too much. Pitch smiled, but made sure Silas did not see it.

‘Exactly. Come along.’

Pitch was close, so very close, to the Churchill Inn, when a figure stepped from the alleyway that led to the stables.

‘Hello, Pitch.’

The heat in his veins cooled, and it was no small feat to offer up a smile.