Chapter Four #6
‘There’s hardly anyone else to speak to in the kitchen, is there? Especially when you’re bullying Stephen or devising some other misery. Don’t worry, Béchard loves his lords so much he’d grab your hair as you suck Robert’s cock and direct you on how to do it.’
All Dermot knew was the flash of skin, the slapping of flesh, as his head flung back so he could see the grey sky clear above them.
‘Fuck you,’ Will said.
Dermot did not see Will as he left, only heard the faint steps drawing away as he slowly came back to himself.
His nose stung terribly, and for a moment he feared it actually broken until he grazed his fingertips to the bone and found it only bruised.
Will was a smaller make than he, after all, and incapable of true damage.
Yet their friendship, a constant throughout Dermot’s employment that saw him through his worst moods, was vanquished in but a day.
Before Maldred’s appearance, there was but one person he spoke to kindly.
Having a friend in such a perilous, lonely place had not been something to throw away.
He stormed off in the opposite direction.
Will, having assumed he would actually approach Robert and speak such filth, thought far less of him than he’d have supposed.
Will was Béchard’s darling, after all, the son he’d never had; of course the pair spoke of him without his being there.
Their words hung all about Dermot like a cacophony, hurling constant abuse as he dragged himself around a twist in the corridor.
A hand grabbed him then, seemingly from nowhere, as he dimly realised this was where Béchard kept his cutlery and other such tools.
‘Will?’ Dermot started, halting only when he recognised the golden eyes of his tempter, set beneath the white-blond hair that marked the mystic creature.
‘Maldred?’ Dermot said. For a moment he supposed this, like most of his imaginings, took place from the comfort of his bed. But the earlier events of the day prevented this.
‘Dermot,’ Maldred said. He laughed and dragged Dermot into the closet, jumping forward and clashing their lips together.
‘How have you been? Oh, Dermot, what’s wrong?
’ He kissed neatly down the side of his neck all the way to the collarbone, finally wrapping his arms around Dermot’s neck like a woman.
To see such beauty made flesh in daylight was astonishing. Maldred had none of the faults one would expect of man, body finely crafted as if he were marble. The world’s miasma hadn’t rotted him; he remained pristine, hands soft and uncalloused.
‘You’ve turned them into monsters,’ Dermot said, at least managing one critique before his nerves got the better of him.
‘I have done no such thing,’ Maldred protested. ‘They were already monsters. You surely know that much?’
Fingers traced Dermot’s shirt, teasing at buttons until his skin lay bare and cool.
‘He, at least, has missed me, hasn’t he?
’ Maldred said, sinking to his knees and nuzzling his head like a dog to Dermot’s trousers, curling his fingers just below that treacherous instrument.
‘I’d forgotten how big you are. You men are not so civilised, truly.
You wish to take me now, no matter what I do or say. Don’t think I’m unaware of that.’
Dermot shook his head but he could get nowhere with Maldred between his legs, caging him. ‘The servants, the maids, we’re all in a terror,’ Dermot managed, stuttering like a boy besotted.
‘Oh? Scared, are you?’ Maldred asked, staring up at him with big, doll-like eyes. ‘And I’d thought you were so brave.’
‘I’m not scared,’ Dermot said immediately, keening as Maldred pulled his trousers down, cringing as his cock sprung out. ‘My own friend is suffering. Tell me what you did to them. What was in the drink, did I poison them?’
Maldred put his lips firmly around Dermot’s cock and gave a suck before pulling back. ‘I can’t speak and play with your cock at the same time,’ he said.
It was an ordinary man’s torment to be afflicted with women, shrewd as they were, but to be seduced by peers brought ruin. Dermot, forever keen on Will and every pretty young man he came across, assented to Maldred’s ministrations with a mere groan.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ Dermot groaned, stroking the creature’s hair, marvelling at the flowing strands like beams of sunlight. ‘Maldred, I…’
Maldred paused, inclining his head. He was all porcelain and glass; using him for pleasure was natural. ‘Yes?’
Dermot stared down at white skin unmarred, pink lips sharp as Cupid’s bow. Even Maldred’s body, lithe and small, heated him. ‘I love you,’ he said.
Maldred was both a tease and a stoic, seeming perplexed and little else. Those precious lips fell into a pout, and he would not go back to his work.
‘Don’t stop. Please, keep going,’ Dermot said, leaning his head against stone and gasping as Maldred’s hands swept his length.
‘But…’ Maldred said, fixed on speaking rather than sucking. ‘Do you truly love me?’
Pressed against the wall as he was, a beautiful young man at his feet who’d been obliging enough, Dermot groaned out, ‘Yes, yes, I love you. Please, I’m at your mercy.’
Maldred’s tongue ran across his length, those same lips gracing him with a smile. ‘Alright,’ he said. His cheeks hollowed as to further please, jerking his head in tandem with his hands, leaving not an inch untouched; little more than a sheathe.
‘I love you, Maldred,’ Dermot said again, groaning with the ferocity of Maldred’s response.
The faerie’s hands shook a little, lips tightening imperceptibly. Those eyes remained fixed on him in their usual, unblinking way.
Seed shot from him like the cannons lining the ramparts, never fired during Dermot’s tenure but always simmering with want of use.
Maldred looked up at once and, instead of spitting it out or cursing him, swallowed.
Dermot traced the lump with his eyes, incredulous anyone would willingly do such a thing.
Maldred got to his feet, a triumphant smile on his lips. ‘I’ll remember that, Dermot.’
In their last encounter Dermot had effectively done away with his employer on account of a good sucking. Nearly a dozen possibilities passed through his mind, each request more depraved than the last.
‘You love me,’ Maldred said, fingers toying with the buttons of Dermot’s shirt. ‘That’s very sweet, to say such a thing to me.’
‘Well,’ Dermot said haltingly, ‘you’re beautiful.’
Maldred’s lips quirked, eyes darting up to meet Dermot’s. ‘I have an idea that love between humans is quite permanent throughout your lives. Is it true you love one another forever?’
Such pretty words bore little resemblance to their carnal knowledge of one another. He’d imagined a threat, not misguided prattle. Maldred had seemed unknowable in their last encounter. That made the change all the more jarring. Dermot could only nod.
‘You think of me likewise?’ Maldred said.
‘Yes,’ Dermot croaked. As inhuman eyes fixed on him, he marvelled at the pallor of Maldred’s skin. Even women were not so na?ve when it came to men. Now he stood enslaved to this creature while his friend imagined him a mere puppet of Robert Stanley.
Maldred locked them in an embrace. ‘It pleases me to hear you say so. It is not so in my world, you see. We are not expected to have a great love.’ His hands traced Dermot’s shoulders. ‘What I desire now, Dermot, is for you to do nothing.’
Tired as he was, the shock must have been plain on his face, for Maldred responded at once.
‘I have performed a service for you and, what’s more, have been led to believe we should follow one another’s example. Since you love me, your desire should compel you?’ Maldred said.
‘Do nothing?’ Dermot asked belatedly.
‘Yes, do nothing,’ Maldred said, kissing Dermot’s cheek. ‘How can you refuse what has already been given?’
Cock already resurrected and twitching, Dermot said, ‘This is about Robert?’
‘The eldest, yes, and all of them as a whole. Let them do as they will. Say nothing against it, do not stop it,’ Maldred said.
‘But why?’ Dermot asked, at last spurring himself on enough to caress the length of the faerie. He palmed Maldred’s hips and, hearing no protest, ventured lower to give a firm squeeze. ‘You’re referring to the boy and the aunt?’
‘Do nothing,’ Maldred hissed.
He saw the whole sorry procession before his eyes.
Robert inviting the witchfinder to their shores, the bastard contriving some method as to best rationalise fiction, and finally the actual event.
Even then, surely, they would only be sentenced to prison, not an actual hanging.
Such barbarism had never happened on the island, unlike the mainland.
‘I suppose that’s all I can do, even if I wanted differently,’ Dermot said. ‘But on your account, I’d do anything.’
Their lips met without Dermot having righted himself. Belatedly, he tried to return the affection, but Maldred was already off him, pulling at the door handle.
‘What are you doing?’ Dermot said. ‘You mustn’t let anyone see you. With the castle in such a state, what will they take you as?’ Certainly Robert, lecher as he was, would show more interest in Maldred than the mousy-haired wretch in the prison.
‘Dermot,’ Maldred said, turning his head imperceptibly to the side. ‘I am very much touched by your concern.’
Maldred opened the door and walked out as daringly as any young man. Though Dermot was quick to follow, the boy was nowhere to be seen.