Page 153 of The Simurgh

He spared a few moments to thank the teratisms who still gathered, and watched silently. He asked them to keep watch in the churchyard, though Pitch did not hear him say why. He suspected the Dullahan at the heart of it. The ankou did not give up on any creature easily. Silas bade them farewell, and promised that all would be well. There was no telling if they believed him or not, their expressions remained suitably grim and unfathomable.

But Pitch chose to believe.

‘All will be well.’ His words were caught in a yawn as Lalassu walked on ahead of the carriage. Isaac urged his horses on in turn.

‘What did you say?’ Silas’s arms encircled him.

‘Nothing. Just daydreaming.’

The ankou kissed the back of his head. ‘Are you comfortable?’

‘Mmm.’ Pitch relaxed against Silas’s chest, secured by the broadness of his arms, the clench of his thighs. ‘Very much so.’

‘Sleep if you need to. I’ll not let you fall.’

‘I know.’ Pitch yawned again. ‘But I’d prefer to listen to your voice.’

He felt Silas’s chest lift, the ankou breathing deeply. ‘Very well. Shall we talk of the weather?’

‘At your peril.’ Silas’s laughter rumbled through Pitch’s body.

‘Perhaps then I shall tell you of how I look forward to removing all those horrid clothes, and making certain every inch of you is quite well.’

Pitch pressed his lips, his ravenous blood heating. ‘That is quite unfair, for I’m famished as it is, and you know it.’

‘I could have Lalassu take us on ahead.’ Silas gave him no reprieve. ‘Far enough that we would have time for you to drain me dry before the others caught up. You are not alone in your hunger, my darling.’

Pitch slapped the ankou’s thigh, and was quite pleased to hear his startled cry.

‘What was that for? Do you not like the idea?’

In reply, Pitch took his hand and pressed it between his legs where things were stiff enough to tether a boat. ‘Answer enough?’ Silas groaned softly. ‘But we cannot gallop off on the horse that is, for all intents and purposes, everyone’s compass.’ He barely recognised himself, turning down a hasty fuck in the shrubbery. ‘And I want you, my dear, in a bed to ourselves, where we are clean and warm and have all the time in the world to make each other scream. Now hush that sordid mouth of yours, or you shall make this journey incredibly uncomfortable.’ He pried Silas’s hand away from where it caressed taut fabric. ‘And Lalassu shall likely buck us off, if you keep that up.’

Silas’s laughter leapt from him, making Pitch’s body jerk. ‘True. It was worth a try though.’

Pitch shifted, trying to find a position that might give his prick a chance to behave itself. ‘Indeed, and my balls do not thank you. Now, quickly, tell me a tale, a pretty story that will make for decent dreams.’

‘Oh, I know the perfect one.’

‘Go on.’

‘It is the story of the Prince and the Pale Horseman. You might not be familiar with it.’

‘Is it a fairy tale? So long as there is a happy ending, I suppose it shall do.’

‘Oh, these two were happy long before the end. They are quite the pair, on quite an adventure.’

The rattle of the carriage wheels filled the silence. Above, a single cloud floated across a superb December sky, brushing over the rising sun. The landscape dimmed.

‘Then best you begin this tale, Sickle. Tell me what lies ahead for the daemon and his nephilim.’

Silas laughed again, and the cloud skittered away. The sun held pride of place in the sky once more, shining down on a day that promised to be beautiful, with not a moment of it to be wasted.