Chapter Text
Mere seconds inside till they were bare again and this time David shoved Glenn upon the pillows, practically tackling him with randy force.
“So hungry for you, like I could swallow you whole.”
Glenn twined his legs around David’s hips. “Let me do it to you, a true love feast.”
David could smell the honey again. His stomach cramped, though his mind was insisting he wasn’t really hungry - it was just the smell making him think so - but he could feel a small amount of saliva escaping from the corner of his mouth.
“What I did, you mean?” His voice was equally hungry, husky and barely audible.
“Yes. It feels amazing.”
David turned onto his back, spreading his legs.
“Do it then.”
The tip was uncomfortably unyielding, but David bore it stoically. Glenn smiled as he pushed it in just enough to ensure the liquid would have nowhere to go but up and then paused.
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah,” David answered, with a slight breathy giggle.
“No, you’re not, but you’ll see.”
And at that Glenn squeezed the bottle and David gasped as time seemed to freeze.
That boy, in Marbella, the one who looked like Syd. Curls and cheekbones and a lithe body browned by the sun. They took turns fucking each other during the daily siesta, the sound of the ocean a constant comforting shoosh, though for David it often made him melancholy as the heat made him lazy. But he could close his eyes and pretend it was someone else giving him that sweet ache, that indescribable ecstasy of having someone spend themselves inside you, flood you with their palpable lust.
Not just the feel of it invading him, setting off the bundles of nerves everywhere at once, but the warmth and that seemingly synesthetic feeling: furry and silky and thick, filling him as completely as if he actually had a prick inside him. His own was erect again, and even as Glenn continued to fill him in gentle increments he leaned his head down and began to suck, his tongue knowing just where to lick, the absolute talent for the task he had shown months prior. David thought of all kinds of absurd but encouraging things to say - Polish my knob till it shines, boy! - yet was only capable of the most basic grunts and groans as he got it both ways. . . and how.
David creamed again, painfully firing streams of jizz into that hungry mouth which sucked and sucked and sucked till it seemed he had come enough for the both of them. When Glenn released his cock, thoroughly sodden and completely flaccid, it was almost a relief. But that delicious pressure inside his ass kept him immobile and dazed.
“How it is you drain me so well?” he murmured, more to himself than to his playmate.
“I want it all,” Glenn whispered, sucking on his own lips. “Every drop.”
He gently removed the tip of the bottle from David’s anus and licked it clean.
“And now for my other treat.”
He knelt before David, pulling his hips onto his folded legs. Pushing his hair back, he spread David’s thighs as far as they would go, then the cheeks of his ass as he tongued the orifice, a steady puddle of honey coming to the surface. Again, David’s mind was awash with specific memories and an obliterating tide of sensation. The way Glenn’s tongue not only lapped at the liquid coming out of him, but slid inside to find it, was beyond delight. He loved to be tongued in all ways, and it was difficult finding adventurous partners to return the favor once he showed them how good it felt.
His hips bucked of their own accord as Glenn made sounds of satiated satisfaction, his tongue going deeper and deeper with each foray. In moments it was as if David were being fucked, between the pressure of the liquid inside him and the pushing of Glenn’s tongue.
“Nourish me,” Glenn whispered, lapping at the surface again, “let me feast on your ambrosia.”
The notion that this was exactly what he wanted and now it was happening made reality become distinctly hazy around the edges, David’s sense was coming loose from the moorings, sliding off the surface which held everything together, he was ready to succumb to a weighty oblivion, but the boy kept sucking it out of him, as if he were a fountain or a wineskin.
“I would sustain myself this way always,” he confessed, as his lips pursed around the hole and teased it out. How much was in there? “It is that much sweeter when it comes out of you than when it goes in.”
David was crying then, startled by the feel of tears upon his face. It was too much - too much - this shattering of the barriers, and what lay in the void was unknown as darkness descended. But before he could dive headfirst into madness he saw two figures enter the tent and interrupt his tableau of bliss with angry voices.
“By the pantheon!” Wootton exclaimed. “You were supposed to be done with him by now!”
David wanted to move, wanted to get out of the thoroughly compromising position he was in, but could not. He felt positively leaden, and worse, didn’t care. A faint whinge left his lips because Glenn had ceased his activities.
“Leave us alone!” Glenn shouted.
Bobbie came up and prodded one of David’s feet with the toe of her boot. “The Belle of Cambridge, eh? More a common whore, I’d say.”
“Shut up!”
“Comus is coming,” Wootton intoned. “Chaos is coming.”
“All the more reason for us to get the hell out of here,” Bobbie said, her face pinched with nervous pique.
David could feel the liquid leaking out of him, dripping onto Glenn’s legs, and the other wiped up the residue with his fingers, sucking them like the aftermath of a good meal.
“Give me a few minutes more, then he’ll be out,” Glenn whispered.
“We need to complete the ritual,” Wootton hissed. “We need to find the others.”
“You lost them?” Glenn queried.
“It’s nearly a riot out there, the tall one got away from me,” Bobbie said.
Somewhere in David’s mind he was relieved Roger escaped whatever seduction had been planned. But he was seemingly sunk in amber, held fast by the scheme to ensnare him.
“If we don’t find them then this one’ll have to do,” Wootton said, drawing a dragger and letting the candlelight flash upon it.
“You said I could keep him!” Glenn cried.
“Comus demands blood. And if it is not shed, the bloodlust will take over everyone for good and all.”
“Not us!” Bobbie declared.
“No,” Wootton agreed. “But I fear our fate will be something much worse if we do not appease our deity.”
“You can’t have him,” Glenn insisted, “he was promised to me.”
“It would therefore be in your best interest to get your tongue out of his arse and help us find the others.”
“Then let me finish!”
The three stared one another down, letting out sounds of exasperation and possibly fear. Wootton grabbed Bobbie’s arm and they left the tent. “Don’t fuck it up,” he called out to Glenn, “or we’ll all pay the price.”
Must get up. Can’t let them kill Roger.
Glenn bent his head once more to lap up the honey, and it was as if there was an endless source of it within David, he still felt as literally stuffed as he did at first. And it was so bloody good, he was being pulled under by that pleasure once again, to a dark depth of oblivion. His tongue sliding into the entrance, teasing the nerves, providing just the right pressure to make David cry out with grateful release. And the sound he made while doing so, as if David were literally made of honey, the most delicious being ever created.
Oh Comus make him do this to me always. . .wait, ah Christ, I have to distract him or we’re all doomed.
Strange, how he could be detached and overwhelmed at the same time.
“I. . .I want you to take me now. Please, Glenn.” David could barely whisper, but he fluttered his eyes and felt the hunger, it wasn’t an entire ruse. He wanted to be fucked, his rectum was slick with honey and saliva and his lust burned within him, despite the impulse to pass out in surrender to the campaign of seduction and the larger fear of realizing that something murderous was afoot.
His would-be paramour looked up with wide blue eyes and slowly removed his tongue from David’s anus, which the other suffered with more-than-faint regret.
“Take you, claim you? You acknowledge you are mine, then?”
“Yes.” If there was ever a time to be utterly irresistible, Gilmour, now would be that time.
His eyes fluttered again, lips pursing as he pulled the other close in a sweet, deep kiss and felt the passion rebounding, knowing his gambit had succeeded, it was the reaction of someone completely infatuated or possibly in love.
Who could have known? Was this all to do with me, I wonder? This absurd plan?
“This is our honeymoon, then, my love. Comus promised me I would get you if I made the honey, and here you are, and you want me.”
David fought the urge to roll his eyes, kept smiling even as it felt like a grimace but when Glenn entered him, sliding slow and going deep, he opened like a flower to the sun and aaaahhhhh oh yeeeessssss it was better than anyone, any time, even when desperate enough to think if he didn’t get pounded he’d surely die.
This was true bliss, this must be what it felt like for a –
Listen to yourself, it’s all trickery and lies.
David closed his eyes, a true smug smile on his face, lifting his legs to better enable Glenn to push all the way inside, to get to the spot which would make him lose his fucking mind yes yes yes ram me boy, give it all to me, every fucking inch.
“Oh my beauty, you are even more astounding than I knew you’d be,” Glenn breathed, and thrust harder as David cried out aaah and oooh and YES. He slid out for a moment and David nearly cried because he didn’t want it to stop, but when Glenn drizzled more honey over his cock and slid his hand over the shaft then plunged back in as far he could go the tears sprang sudden, but it was from joy it was so much unbelievable joy . He sucked on Glenn’s fingers as they were placed in his mouth, and he felt as though he had been starving, this was literally the flavour of everything and exactly what he wanted, what he needed. Their mouths came together in a kiss and then a sticky hand stroked his prick and the world turned white as he came and came and came and so did his lover he could feel that hot tide which bathed him in fiery brilliance and how could this be? Sex was wonderful but this was. . .
Yes, you get it now, don’t you? It’s an illusion, you prat, and it will hold you fast if you don’t get a fucking grip NOW.
David opened his eyes and his heart was hammering in time with Glenn’s, who had collapsed upon him. They were both panting and David could feel the intensity ebbing away, the world coming back in increments, the outside reasserting itself with the sounds of chaos, the situation unchanged. But even so, he wondered if he would ever feel exactly this way again, as if he were a god and had fucked one in turn. The very pinnacle of ecstasy, the kind of experience certain chemicals promised even if they only delivered once and one spent years chasing that flash of brilliance down a dangerous road.
Suddenly, it all made sense.
Chemicals. . .exactly. Your brain can experience anything with just the right chemicals.
David’s resolve returned even as he felt Glenn relax, no doubt entrenched in a fantasy of Happily Ever After.
David reached up to one of the nearby candles inside of a brass holder. With one swift motion he took the candle out and bashed his seducer on the side of the head with the metal implement. Glenn was cut off in mid-sigh and slumped upon the body of the other: unconscious, if not dead, weight. David pushed him off and dressed hurriedly, praying that the others were not on their way back to their HQ. Almost as an afterthought he grabbed the bear-shaped bottle, a vague feeling of importance in the action.
Outside the cold air was like a slap in the face, as was the scene before him: utter hysteria as those which had been acting strangely earlier in the evening were now wholly possessed; chasing after others in a determined but plodding way, those people in turn screaming and trampling over others too slow. Those who had changed had gone absolutely bloodless, their eyes shining and distant. David watched as a girl grabbed another female too distraught to get away and bite her shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, then lapped it up in a gesture which sickeningly reminded him of something else.
What in holy hell –
One of the males came up to David and grabbed his hair. As he made to turn around and punch him in the face, the other sniffed at him and suddenly moved away, his features contorted with fear, grunting and throwing up his hands in front of his face. His skin was sickly, a sort of yellowish shade, there was blood on his hands and around his mouth, the copper tang of it hanging in the air, the scent of the abattoir.
Not us, Bobbie had said.
Another girl ran towards him, utterly terrified.
“Help me!” she cried, “Everyone’s gone crazy!”
She grabbed at his coat, he gripped her arms, trying to get her to calm down, as they were approached by a man dressed in a vampire costume. Even under the greasepaint and fake blood of his disguise, it was obvious he was in thrall. When he opened his mouth David could see one of his fake fangs had something hanging from it, something pink and stringy.
“Ah God, get him away from me!” she screamed, burying her face in David’s chest. He made to put her behind him, but even as the ersatz Dracula pulled back, looking confused, there was a glimmer in his bloodshot eyes which was undeniably haunted, an imperative to pursue above and beyond all reason. He stared David down, a stream of drool running from the side of his mouth, smudging the paint, and made a growling sound.
“Stay back,” David warned, “I know you can’t touch me.”
The girl panicked and let go of him.
“No!” David exclaimed, grabbing at her but she eluded his attempt. The guy sidestepped David and pulled the girl to him by the neck. She screamed, and he put a hand over her mouth. David could only watch – repulsed and horrified and wondering if he was losing his mind along with everyone else – as the other sunk his pretend fangs into her neck, and they seemed to work well enough, deep red blood arcing out into the air.
David fell to his knees, his stomach cramping as a torrent of vomit hit the ground and it was dark and thick and it smelled like -
What the hell was in the honey?!
Running through the crowd, on the lookout for anyone affiliated with Comus, David found an equipment shed at the far end of the field and quickly ducked inside once he ascertained it was empty. He locked himself in, heart pounding, and desperately tried to think of a way to find the others and get the hell away from this madness. He hoped he hadn’t been followed as far as this. But almost in answer the door rattled from the force of someone pounding upon it.
“Who’s in there?” a nasal voice demanded and David had never been so relieved to hear it.
“Roger, thank Christ you’re alright!” David exclaimed once he opened the door. Roger pushed his way in and David locked the door behind him once again.
“What the ruddy fuck is going on out there?!” Roger exclaimed. “Do you know I was set upon by a group of kids, and it was as if, well, as if they tried to –“
“Eat you?”
“Yeah, exactly! Fuckin’ hell!”
“Are you hurt?” David asked, immediately concerned. He began running his hands over Roger’s arms, looking for signs of injury. Roger stepped back, looking annoyed.
“I’m fine, stop pawing me! But are they all having a bad trip or something?”
“I dunno. I suspect something, but you’d never believe me.”
“Did you not hear me, Dave, someone tried to eat me just now.”
“Comus. It’s them, they started this.”
Roger frowned, then his saucer eyes went wide with confusion. “Some kind of mass hysteria, then?”
“You might say. They really do believe in all that pagan stuff, and they’ve found a way to make it work somehow.”
“Did you see the lads? Anywhere?”
David sighed. “No.”
“And where the hell were you?!”
“I could likely say the same, except I know, of course!”
“Oh fuck off! The question is, how are we going to get out of here?”
“We’ve only to fear Wootton and the others. They’re out for blood, literally.”
“What?!”
“Here,” David gestured, removing the honey bottle from his coat pocket. “You need to have some of this.”
“This is no time to get wrecked, you idiot!”
“Look, I was out there, same as you, but no one tried to attack me. It’s something to do with this stuff, I’m telling you. If you don’t have some too then you will be in trouble.”
“And what about Nick and Rick?”
“They already did, they won’t be harmed, unless Wootton finds them. C’mon Rog, stop being so bloody stubborn for once and do as I say!”
Roger grabbed the bottle out of his hand and began sucking it noisily. David was suddenly seized with an urge to laugh: a combination of remembering where the tip had been earlier, relief at finding him unharmed, and the greater panic of the situation.
“Gah, that’s not like any honey I’ve ever had!”
“I agree. But now they won’t touch you. Did Bobbie try to do anything strange to you?”
“What d’ya mean?”
“I mean anything other than what you were after.”
“No. At least, I don’t think so.” He furrowed his forehead in thought. “How do you know what they’re up to?”
“Because Goring tried to shanghai me, sacrifice me to their god, or whatever it is.”
“What?!”
“Look, instead of continuing to sputter in disbelief, help me figure out how the hell we’re gonna get out of here!”
Roger seemed to freeze, staring at David, his eyes widening again but this time with a decidedly predatory glitter.
“It’s so warm in here. Nice and warm. So cold outside.”
What the bloody hell is this?
“Feel my skin, Dave. It’s like it’s on fire.”
Oh Comus don’t do this now. I don’t want him like this.
“Roger, I imagine you’re feeling. . .uh. . .rather strange right now, but –“
“You’ve the most amazing eyes, don’t you? Remind me of an unclouded sky.”
“Rog, please. Try to focus. We’ve got to find Rick and Nick.”
“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are? Because. . .I always wanted to.”
Roger had moved closer and closer till David was up against the wall of the shed, and his bandmate was now stroking his hair, and David could smell the honey on his breath and suddenly he wanted –
Kiss him, and he’s yours. Like you’ve always wanted. That exquisite mouth, those long fingers, show him how much you’ve longed for him ever since you first saw him, that day Syd looked through you like you were a stranger.
. . .he firmly but calmly pushed at Roger until the other was at arm’s length.
“Rog, someone’s going to get killed if we don’t get out of here.”
The saucer eyes blinked rapidly, and Roger gave a sudden toss of his shining dark head.
So bloody beautiful.
“What do they want? Wootton and the others?”
“I told you, they’re determined to make a sacrifice out of one of us, or all, if they can.”
“Why us?”
“I’m wondering the very same thing.”
David tried very hard not to vomit again when they made their way across the field once more. There were limp bodies everywhere, and blood: on the ground, smeared across skin, and he could seemingly taste it the closer they came to the center of the chaos. But the shambling stumbling figures gave them a wide berth, fighting amongst each other for victims of those possessed by the bloodlust. People were bent at unnatural angles and some were being raped by the ones under the sway of Comus, blindly thrusting at any orifice they could find while gnawing upon flesh and eagerly lapping at the blood which flowed forth from the wounds.
Rick was hiding under the stage, he reached out and grabbed Roger’s ankle as they ran by. Roger screamed, falling towards the ground. David caught him and made to kick at the hand till he recognized the coat clothing the arm.
“Rick!” he exclaimed. “Get out of there, c’mon!”
“Oh no! D’ya see what’s going on out there?!” But David pulled at him until he climbed out from under the platform, visibly trembling.
“You won’t be hurt, I swear. But we’ve got to get out of here! Where’s Nick?”
Rick started to cry. “I dunno. We were running through the crowd at one point, trying to find you, and when I turned around he was gone. I went back the other direction, but he had completely vanished!”
Roger’s face was grim. “They’ve got him, don’t they?”
David sighed. “Probably.”
“Who’s got him? What the bloody hell is going on here?!”
“You were right, something is peculiar. But Comus is to blame.”
“They’re responsible for this, you mean?” Rick swept out an arm in reference to the near-slaughter which lay all around them. “How is that possible?”
“Magic.”
“Oh now you’ve lost the plot as well, haven’t you?”
“Look,” Roger countered, as they continued to walk along, “I don’t want to believe it either, but what choice do we have?”
“We’ve no choice but to call the authorities!”
“Nick will be dead by the time they get here!” David shouted.
Rick turned almost as pale as those possessed by the bloodlust. “They want to kill him?”
“All of us. I don’t know how we’re going to stop it, but if we don’t we’ll all be goners. So metaphysical debates will have to wait till another time.”
David set off at a run across the field, with Roger and Rick following close behind.
As they crept alongside the tent they spied Nod standing guard at the entrance. Ducking back behind the corner they heard one of the band come out and demand he go look for the very same people lying in wait for a chance to enter. Once the other had moved away they nodded at one another and hurried inside.
They were greeted by a welter of candlelight, which illuminated the members of Comus all gathered around a table David had failed to notice earlier. It appeared to have the same kinds of symbols carved upon it which had been painted on the banner as well as some totemic items, such as a chalice and bowls holding various offerings all clustered at the head. Nick sat on the other end, his hands bound. They were surrounded by a circle drawn upon the ground, with the same symbols within. From the smell David knew it had been drawn with the honey. He could sense a shifting between the atmosphere within and without the circle, a shimmering in the air. As they all turned to view the intruders Wootton snatched up Nick by his shirtfront and held a dagger at his throat. David noticed it was the same one he wielded before, when threatening to spill his blood instead.
“Comus is chaos, and when the veil is thin he slips between the worlds, his dominion to establish within this one. The bloodlust, it is in everyone here, and it is his undoing of what came before.”
“Let him go,” David said, attempting rationality.
“We only need one, for blood to spill. Then we will have everything we’ve ever wanted.”
“LET HIM GO!” Roger thundered.
Glenn walked up to David, weaving a hand into his hair, pulling him close.
“Think of it, all the passion you’ve ever wanted, because you will never have it again if you interfere. Say you didn’t feel it.”
“I did,” David hissed as Glenn pulled his hair tight. “But it’s just an illusion.”
“No, it’s magic and when you’re in it then it’s everything. The honey is a charm and it works, will you deny that?”
“No. But one shudders to think what’s in it to make it work so well.”
“Charged with virgin blood by the ripening moon. With the sacred seed of the magus. Mixed into the gold of the secret alchemist, the simple and common bee. To create a nectar which none can resist, and which will remake the world.”
“Why? Why do this?”
“Well you’re asking the right person,” Bobbie gibed.
David’s eyes widened. “If I had given you a lock of my hair last year –“
“Then perhaps it needn’t have come to this,” Glenn replied, as if finishing the sentence.
“What?!” Roger exclaimed.
“I won’t do this. Kill me if you must,” David proclaimed.
“DAVID!” his bandmates all shouted in unison.
“Let them go, take me. You can’t have me,” he said to Glenn, praying that this gambit might also work.
Glenn’s eyes grew dark and his voice deep, as if it wasn’t him who was speaking.
You will know nothing but sorrow, despite all your desires.
“I am not your disciple,” David declared. “Kill me now.”
“NO!” Glenn screamed, dropping his hold and seeming to speak to no one, to the air. “Don’t you do it! You promised! ”
If the bloodlust is not appeased, someone will pay.
This time the voice seemed to come from everywhere at once.
“We have your sacrifice!” Wootton proclaimed, throwing Nick onto his back. The others gathered round to pin him down as their leader raised the dagger. Glenn looked at David.
“It’s better this way,” he said, “you’ll see.”
“Nick!” came a cry. Rick has approached the edge of the circle and the coven glared at him with weapons raised.
“It’s too late!” Bobbie said, pointing her knife at the group. “We will succeed because it is His time!”
“Hail to Saturn Comus is coming!” the coven intoned by rote.
“We can break the circle,” David whispered to Roger.
“How d’ya know?”
“Because we’ve drunk the honey. We’re part of the magic.”
“But it’s six against three!”
“So because the odds aren’t in your favor you’re willing to let him be gutted?”
David grabbed Rick by the shoulder and hauled him back.
“Just wait, we’ll go together.”
“I’m ready,” Rick whispered.
“Are you in?” David asked.
Roger sighed. He looked genuinely frightened, David thought.
“Yes.”
A sudden shriek split the air and the three took the distraction as their opportunity, rushing the group. There were gasps of surprise as they passed through the circle, then David began pummeling whomever he could find, including Glenn, as Rick dragged Nick off the makeshift altar and Roger grabbed Bobbie by the hair and wrenched the knife from her hand, then trapped her in the same hold Wootton had previously used on Nick. Wootton froze in shock and David grabbed the dagger from his hand then picked up Glenn’s groggy form and slammed him upon the table.
“So Comus, what say you take the blood of this pretty thing, eh?”
That same trick of light and sound played again.
He could be yours, eternally subservient. He had much the same plan for you.
“Everybody wants me,” David quipped. “Is it a life you require, or just a little blood?”
BLOOD
The summons so loud it shook the ground. The air seemed to thicken, like mist, all around them within the circle.
BLOOD NOW
“Well let’s give you what you want, eh?” David slashed Glenn’s arm with the dagger, blood immediately hitting the wood in flying dark drops. Glenn screamed and began writhing. David then gasped in horror at what he saw oozing out of the cut: it was thick and golden-colored.
“What the ruddy fuck –“ Roger began, then Glenn screamed again.
“HE’S IN ME MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP IT HURTS”
No one moved a muscle as Glenn squirmed in agony, his features contorted with pain and terror.
“What –“ Bobbie whispered.
“The honey,” Wootton said, “What did it do to –“
A noise - like the loudest and longest of echoes - suddenly filled the air, deafening everyone, as they all doubled over clutching at their heads and not even Glenn’s tortured screams could drown it out. It was as if all the sound were being sucked out of the world, leaving only a blur of light and dark, a fractured rendition of reality.
Then all was dark.
In the half-light of the coming dawn, their ears still ringing, the members of Pink Floyd carefully made their way through the field at Gallows Hill in the town of Salem. Bodies littered the ground, and all of them looked normal again, as if everyone had merely fallen asleep en masse.
“S’not right,” Rick muttered. “Some of these people were hurt, even dying.”
“I think Comus didn’t get what he wanted.” David said.
“But wouldn’t that make everything worse?” Roger asked.
“Maybe it did, but not in the way his followers thought it would.”
. . .or we’ll all pay the price.
Their minds simultaneously flashed upon the unconscious forms of the coven, not deceased but unable to answer the summons of the others.
“Are they dead, do you think?” Rick wondered.
“They were breathing, weren’t they?” David insisted. They came to the edge of the field. “Need to find a telephone so we can ring that cabbie fellow.”
“Yes, I’ve had quite enough of Witch City, thanks ever so,” Roger sniped.
“Y’okay then, Nicky?” Rick asked, putting an arm around his bandmate.
“I believe I can say with total surety that I am no longer a fan of Comus.”
They all chuckled as they approached a nearby phone booth and waited for the cab to show up after David placed the call, smoking and wondering why no one had come to investigate the commotion.
“Perhaps this is a place where these sorts of things happen frequently,” Roger opined.
Nick made sounds of disbelief but the other three stared him down till he shut up.
Walking along the tarmac as the Floyd boarded their return flight, David looked over at the Bay and the Boston skyline beyond then removed a plastic bottle from his inner coat pocket.
“You still have that?” Roger asked, shocked.
David cocked back his arm and let it fly. The bottle splashed into the water then sank (which shouldn’t have been possible, given its’ composition) within seconds.
“Not anymore.”
“Thank God.”
“Hmm,” David pondered, as they climbed the stairs to the cabin door. “I wonder who we should be thanking in this case.”
Comus released their record the following year, and although many in the press had declared it a work of progressive genius - with a weird yet wonderful ambience - they never did catch on with the general public, and sank into obscurity within a few years; as the original lineup disbanded not long after First Utterance debuted.
Once Pink Floyd returned to England and their normal routine, vowing never to speak of that night, David thought he saw Goring in the crowd, sometimes: a pale pretty face framed by blond hair staring up at him with thwarted lust. And whenever it happened - accompanied by the type of chill one feels when reminded of something frightening – he had only to look over at the one person he desired above all, even with all the frustration their relationship entailed, to know that it had only been a bad dream. . .the kind of nightmare perhaps only the Sabbat can provide.