Page 81 of The Herlequin: Pitch & Sickle 6

Silas grabbed for the pulled tufts they’d placed at the ready, and only just managed to cover their cock heads in time. Pitch grunted and arched and pulsed, and as much as Silas desired to wait and watch, see every grimace and hear every whimper, the daemon’s release tipped him over his own burning edge.

He exhaled, a noise coming from him that lay between groan and shivered cry. Pitch’s body still twitched from his own pleasure, but his gaze never left Silas as they rode out his climax together. Pitch covered his hand, murmuring filthy words of encouragement as Silas came, holding on as heat and seed shot forth, soaking the moss till it was saturated.

They returned to the world in slow, rocking measure. Pitch’s smile could have swung the pope towards debauchery.

‘Do you think the forest will mind what we did with her groundcover?’

Silas chuckled. ‘I truly hope not. I’d hate to think how she might show her disapproval. But it worked, mostly.’

He tossed the punished moss away. His hands were only a little sticky, and their clothes were spared as they’d intended.

‘I’ll make it clear it was your idea if we are in any trouble.’

Pitch cleared away fallen dewberries before he flopped down onto his back, tucking himself away and undoing another clasp on the corset. He declared himself too tired to take it off entirely when Silas made the suggestion.

‘It doesn’t bother me.’ Pitch yawned. ‘And it’s pretty. Those brownies are likely to steal it. Is it bothering you?’

‘Not at all.’ It was so very pretty indeed.

Lying down on his side, Silas waited while the prince nestled in and found where he was most comfortable: his back to Silas’s belly, his arse just shy of where Silas’s balls ached happily. Wrapping an arm around the daemon, he bade the prince a drowsy good night. Pitch slept before Silas, who stayed awake until he was sure his lover slept peacefully.

Silas had no idea what time it was when he woke with an urgent need to relieve himself. He’d been deeply asleep, no dreams to disturb him. He gingerly, and regretfully, disentangled himself from Pitch, who had turned around at some point and now had his face pressed up against Silas’s chest.

‘Where are you going?’ he mumbled, rolling onto his back, eyes still closed.

‘Nature calls.’

‘What does it say?’ Pitch muttered, screwing up his frankly adorable nose.

‘That I must pee.’ Silas leaned over, delivering a parting kiss. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’

‘I know you will.’

Silas paused, his chest tight. Finally, the prince realised; Silas was true to his word.

The daemon curled himself into a ball. Silas was on hands and knees readying to leave when Pitch spoke again.

‘I fed from you…just a little…’ He was mumbling, as though this were dream speech, but Silas heard every word crystalline clear. ‘I didn’t take much, Sickle. I hope you don’t mind.’

Silas had to swallow hard before he could answer. ‘I shall never mind. It is yours to take.’

He waved a trembling hand at the brambles, and they parted to allow him to crawl free. The sooner this was done, the sooner he could return. He got to his feet with a sigh and stretch. There were thin hints that morning was breaking. The air was tinged with a blue-grey light, the toadstools standing dull and snuffed of their glow.

He found his coat and Pitch’s, neatly folded side by side at the entrance to the tiny alcove. They’d been discarded beneath the oak when Silas had last seen them. He hoped Robin had not heard anything too untoward when delivering them.

Pleasantly warm as he was, and not intending to be long, Silas left his coat where it was, with the bandalore tucked in its favoured pocket. Boots on, Silas moved across the clearing.

There was no sign of the dryad, but the burr was there, one black slit marginally wider than the other to watch him.

‘Morning, Mr Mercer.’ The Major had himself out on one of the lower branches whose length reached all the way to the perimeter of the clearing. ‘I should have thought you’d need far more sleep after all your activity.’

Silas’s face warmed. ‘Morning, Major. I need to step out.’ He gestured vaguely at his belly. ‘Beyond the clearing I presume?’

‘Certainly.’ The tree sounded mildly affronted. ‘But not too far, mind. Sherwood is a large forest and good at getting people lost in her, which suits us fine for the most part.’

‘I understand. Thank you.’

‘He knows you’re gone? Won’t wake up and try to burn us all down, will he?’