Chapter Text
Black and Blue
“Jack!”
He can hear them scream. Well . . . one of them. He thought it was Tooth who had screamed his name. He didn’t know. All he knew was that the black arrow imbedded in his chest was releasing the black sand into his body. The same black sand that had killed Sandy once. Corrupting him. He was going to die.
He fell backwards, watching the Nightmares surround him and the other Guardians. They had gone from being a pest to being completely out of control when the Nightmare King had fallen victim to his own creations. Panic rose up in him past the pain as he watched them circling. They were what awaited him. They would be there as he fell into an eternal sleep brought on by the black sand poisoning him now.
They galloped in frantic circles as the Guardians fended them off. Yes, Tooth had been the one to scream. He knew this because she was the one hovering over him as the sand seeped into his muscles. He started to shiver, the smallest of cries escaping his lips. The sand was burning, the insidious particles taking him ever so slowly. He arched his back, straining against the molten specks sinking into every fiber of his being.
“Jack, no!” she screamed again. He couldn’t see her. He could hardly hear her. He was slipping out of consciousness, screaming from the pain by the time a dark shadow fell over him.
Pitch was weak. He was just weak enough that the thought of having the Guardians help him reel the Nightmares back in had sounded like a good idea. Remind me never to let myself sink so low again, he had snarled to himself as he slowly built his strength back up. Having the Nightmares feed on someone else’s fear and not his own for a change had helped a great deal. He was coming to his senses again when he heard the twit scream.
“Jack, no!”
Pitch spun about to glare at the idiotically colored bird, only to have his attention ripped from her lingering form and onto the black and blue body writhing beneath her. Black slithered across his pale body, consuming him. His screams were earsplitting as the sand closed in on his head.
Pitch was never really one for improvisation. Carefully laid plans were more his forte, and usually he considered the possible outcomes before forging ahead. He had even prepared for Jack Frost to deny his offer to join forces, though he hadn’t anticipated just how much his refusal would sting him. However, what he found himself doing had not been part of one of his careful machinations.
He rushed over to Jack just as the twit almost placed her hands on the spot where the Nightmare had pierced him. “Don’t touch!” he snapped, shoving her out of the way. She yelped as he positioned himself over the now whimpering boy. He was almost gone. The sand had just about corrupted Jack when Pitch grabbed his face and smashed his lips against the boy’s. The contact chilled him, but at the same time started the transfer of black sand from Jack’s body to his. The Nightmare sand would have killed Jack. It would only make Pitch stronger.
When the flow of Nightmare sand from Jack’s body to Pitch’s was steady, Pitch’s lips left Jack’s. He lingered just above the boy, the black sand swarming out of Jack’s mouth into Pitch’s. Pitch watched as the darkness left Jack’s body, making the boy, if at all possible, paler than usual. The force of the transferal made Jack’s back arch up into Pitch, his blue eyes rolling to the back of his head while his limbs lay stiff on the ground. Pitch watched Jack as the Nightmare sand fled the pale, beautiful body beneath him. And Pitch felt . . . odd . . . .
The more he absorbed, the more powerful he felt. The bottomless pit that had been his innards felt whole again as he felt his strength returning with the black sand. When his consumption ceased and Jack’s body went limp beneath him, he stood up and cackled.
Shadows surrounded Pitch as his form grew taller and more menacing. His golden-silver eyes burned like white flames as a shark-like grin spread across his face. The whole lair fell dark under the influence of Pitch Black. Tooth gasped, the other Guardians ceasing their attack as the Nightmares cowered in the presence of their restored king. His laughing didn’t stop. He continued until the black horses sank into his shadows, leaving the rest of the Guardians unharmed.
When the room was clear of the Nightmares, the lair returned to its normal gloom. However, the sinister undercurrents remained. The Guardians were still armed. Now that the uniting threat had disbanded, they recognized the danger they were in while in the lair of an almost fully restored Nightmare King.
But he did not attack. He sank back into his normal form without so much as a leer at them. The Guardians remained rooted in place as he bent over to pick up the unconscious Jack Frost. Cradling the boy to his chest, he brought him to the nearest Guardian, North.
The other Guardians stared in dismay as he handed Jack over to the Guardian of Wonder without argument. When Jack’s body left his arms, Pitch merely said, “Leave.” He disappeared into the shadows.
And the Guardians left, unsure of what exactly had just transpired.
Blue and Yellow
“Why?”
Why indeed? Why was there a winter spirit in Pitch’s lair? More specifically, why was Jack Frost pestering him now?
Pitch stayed in the shadows, letting Jack’s paranoia run wild. He had to admit that Jack’s nervousness made him feel quite good. If only he could turn that feeling into fear. Then things would get very fun very fast.
“Pitch, I know you’re here,” the boy said, holding his crook close to his body as he searched the shadows with careful blue eyes.
“What do you want, Frost?” Pitch asked, still moving in the darkness without being detected. He smirked as the boy jumped at the sound of his voice.
“I want to know why you saved me,” the young Guardian answered honestly.
“Such an ungrateful question,” Pitch grumbled, throwing his voice across the room. Another delightful jump. This was definitely going to be fun if Jack kept reacting like this. “Shouldn’t you just be happy I let you live?”
“I’m not sure which is creepier,” the boy murmured. “You not showing your face, or you suggesting I be happy.”
Pitch’s laughter filled the room. Jack almost dropped his staff as he spun about looking for the source. This only made Pitch laugh more. “You always come to the most interesting conclusions about me.”
“Stop playing with me—.”
“Oh, but I thought you were the Guardian of Fun! Games are your thing, are they not?”
“Not your games. I don’t want to play your games. I just want an answer.” The boy collected himself just enough to continue searching the darkness. Something about what Jack said irritated Pitch. It could have been the obvious reminder that Jack had cruelly turned down Pitch’s offer to join forces with him. How long has it been? A year? Maybe two. Pitch didn’t care. The disappointment was still just as fresh as if it had been that morning.
Pitch threw his voice again, making it seem like he were right behind Jack. “You know the answer as well as I do.” He spoke colder than before, which made Jack’s hands start to shake as he turned about only to be faced with nothing. His startled expression was almost enough to drive away Pitch’s irritation.
Almost. What Pitch really needed to make him feel better was Jack’s fear, but it was becoming more and more frustrating to force it out of him. He already knew loneliness would elicit something in Jack. It had been a soft spot in the boy for centuries until the Guardians had helped him overcome it. Pitch wanted to find a new fear to tackle within the boy. However, he didn’t want to reveal his location just yet, but getting personal may be the only way to get what Pitch wanted.
“Are you telling me you don’t know why you saved me?” Anger. It looked so strange and yet so interesting on little Jack Frost’s face. It wasn’t quite as lovely as his fear, but it evoked something within Pitch. That odd feeling again, he thought to himself. He remembered how draining the black sand from Jack’s body had brought that feeling on for the first time. What was it? The lack of knowledge succeeded in frustrating him further.
“What if I did know?” Pitch didn’t know. “Why would I have to tell you anyway?” Nosy little brat.
“It’s my life!” Jack shouted, his anger rising. For some reason, Pitch was beginning to find this rage quite entertaining. At the same time, he was also growing incredibly annoyed with Jack’s behavior.
Then something dawned on him. “Are you sure you just don’t want to owe me anything?”
“I don’t owe you a damn thing.” He wasn’t getting startled at Pitch’s shadow tricks anymore.
“Oh, of course not. Just your life.” Sarcasm seeped from Pitch’s words.
“I didn’t ask for you to save me.” Such an indignant attitude was only good for getting the boy killed. Jack didn’t seem to realize that.
“Technically, I didn’t ask for any of you to help restore my control, but things were getting out of hand and I was grateful. Grateful enough to let you all walk out alive. You should take note.” Pitch grimaced as Jack shot a bolt of ice in his general direction. His location remained concealed, but that had been entirely too close for comfort.
“Why did you do it?!”
“This conversation is getting redundant. And a tantrum isn’t going to make me give you an answer any faster.” Pitch’s irritation sprouted full force this time. The boy was really testing his luck with the Nightmare King.
“I’m not leaving without an answer,” Jack said, shooting another ice bolt across the room.
Pitch growled. “My patience is at an end, Frost. Leave now before I show you what a nightmare can really do,” Pitch warned, his voice completely surrounding Jack. “Your Guardian friends were smart enough to listen to me the last time I told them to leave. You’d do better to follow their example.”
The winter spirit was unabashed. “Don’t hold out on me, now. Face me, Boogeyman!”
Oh, Pitch was more than pleased to grant him his foolish wish.
As soon as the words left Jack’s lips, he regretted them. Before he could turn around, his crook was yanked out of his hands and thrown into the shadows below the walkway he was on.
“NO!” He fell to his knees, searching the seemingly bottomless pit of darkness for his staff. He saw nothing, knew it was no use. Panic rose up within him when he became aware of a long shadow looming over him. He couldn’t get back on his feet; his whole body was shaking entirely too much and Pitch was just too damn close. He kicked at the floor, pushing himself further from the Nightmare King. Those burning yellow eyes followed him, a row of fangs flashing as Pitch smirked down at him. Jack’s breathing tripled, his heart bursting from the speed at which it was going. Pitch had always been tall, but he seemed like a giant now that Jack was on the ground.
Pitch chuckled as Jack continued to kick away from him. “I’m beginning to see your fear, Jack. Do continue to let it grow.”
“Stay back!” Jack choked out.
“Oh, don’t be like that Jack. Things are just getting fun again.”
At that moment, Jack’s back hit a wall. When the hell had that gotten there? Why hadn’t he noticed it before? His attention flashed back from the wall to the towering figure before him. He caught himself before shouting as shadows rose up at Pitch’s back, giving the impression that he was even taller than in reality. He wanted to run, scream, anything but beg him to stop. Somehow his pride was still functioning enough that he refused to beg for mercy even now. He tried to speak, “Pitch—.”
That was when a hand lurched forward and clasped the collar of Jack’s sweatshirt, dragging him up the wall so that his feet were dangling and he was at eye level with Pitch. “That’s better,” Pitch muttered. “Now I don’t have to crane my neck to look at you.”
Jack wasn’t entirely sure he’d seen a more ominous glare directed at him. Coupled with a daggered smile, he was almost certain he was looking into the face of doom. Before he could say another word, he found himself pinned to the wall by . . . shadows. Shadows locked around his wrists, shoulders, ankles, and middle. He was pinned up on the wall like an insect on display. “No—,” he was cut off by another shadow, which gagged him. His eyes widened, focusing on Pitch’s face.
“Ah, there it is,” Pitch whispered, barely audible. “Shame I had to resort to such physical means to bring out the fear in you. I do prefer to keep my hands clean. Literally, at least.” His pride was gone. Jack screamed against the gag. He fought the bonds, but how does one fight something so intangible? Intangible, and yet he was bound. He squeezed his eyes shut, still screaming. “Don’t be so melodramatic, Frost. I’m not even hurting you.” Jack opened his eyes just enough to see the leer on Pitch’s face. “I don’t need to. These bonds are enough to drive you wild.”
He struggled, screaming as yellow eyes bored into him. His throat felt raw by the time he realized that watching was all the Nightmare King intended to do. As soon as he realized that Pitch didn’t intend to do anything other than that, his anger ignited. His blue, panicked eyes squinted, and he let loose a series of obscenities at Pitch that he was almost grateful for the gag to have drowned out. He began fighting harder against the binds, wanting nothing more than to tear that smug look off Pitch’s face.
“Are you quite done?” Pitch asked, his expression almost bored. Jack’s next row of curses made Pitch laugh. “Unfortunately, your fear was a lot tastier than this rage, and I suspect your language has grown quite vulgar by now.” He turned his back on Jack, and just as the Guardian thought that he was going to be left strung up on the wall, the shadows released him and he collapsed on his hands and knees. He took just a brief moment to suck in a lungful of air through his mouth to reassure himself the gag was gone before digging his bare feet into the stone and launch himself into a sprint at Pitch. The Nightmare King was just about to disappear into the lair’s shadows when he turned to see Jack crashing into him.
Both fell to the floor, Jack landing on top of Pitch. Grabbing Pitch’s forearms and holding him down, Jack shouted, “Alright, you shit! You wanna talk about ungrateful, well you’re in for a rude awakening. I was the one who suggested that we help you get your Nightmares back. I convinced the Guardians that your black dreamsand, the stuff that killed Sandy, the stuff that almost killed me, would be better off under your control than roaming free throughout the world. Without me, you would still be cowering under a bed!” In his anger, he’d started gesticulating, which meant that Pitch’s arms were free. When Jack finished what had only been the beginning of his rant, he found that Pitch had flipped him onto his back and, in turn, pinned him to the ground. He wasn’t shaking with fear. He hadn’t been for what felt like some time now. He was shaking because he wanted to strangle Pitch for continually restraining him and denying him a say in the matter.
“And why, pray tell, were you compelled to help me? After what you’ve done? What made you think I wanted any of you to help me?” Pitch’s voice was little more than a snarl, his long nose inches from Jack’s.
“Because I—,” he choked. “I—.” Why couldn’t he speak suddenly? “Godammit!”
“Cut the crudity and answer me!”
At that, Jack shut his mouth and returned Pitch’s glare. After a brief time of silence, he whispered, “How does it feel having information withheld from you?” Pitch roared (at least, it sounded like a roar by Jack’s standards) and dug his claws into Jack’s arms before standing and stalking back towards the wall. Jack sat up, barely aware of the red marks and bruises forming where Pitch’s talons had torn his skin. He just watched Pitch lean with his hand against the wall Jack had been pinned to mere moments ago. After another brief time of silence, Jack sighed and said, “I felt guilty.”
Pitch scoffed. “For ruining me?”
“For not—,” Jack couldn’t say it. Why couldn’t he say it? Because it felt like he would be renouncing his Guardianship, that’s why. He sighed again. “For not accepting your friendship when I had the chance to.” Pitch didn’t look at him. He just leaned on the wall, his face unreadable. “Under different circumstances, we probably could’ve worked something out.”
“You refused to be feared—.”
“And I will always refuse. I don’t thrive on fear, Pitch. But we could’ve—.”
“What? Been friends?” Pitch finally looked at him, his sneer making Jack’s blood boil again.
Jack stood, clenching his fists. “Let me make this clear again: I hate everything you stand for. I may even hate you. But when I actually stop and let myself think about it, I find that I really do feel guilty. I do regret not knowing you earlier. And godammit—!” Jack grabbed his head, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. When he looked back up, Pitch was watching him even more intently than before.
“Do continue,” Pitch uttered. There was no smugness in his voice. There was no malice. And somehow, that made Jack angrier.
Jack took a few large steps to the Nightmare King, his mouth clenched into a sharp line as he withheld another angry shout. Pitch was unabashed by his approach until Jack grabbed his robes. Pitch glared, and before he could demand that the winter spirit unhand him, Pitch was rendered silent.
By Jack’s lips on his.
Pale and Gray
Jack stepped back several steps once he realized what he’d done. Pitch stood stock still, staring at nothing it seemed. Jack wasn’t quite sure if Pitch was totally in shock or if he was silently plotting some sort of revenge. He really hoped he was in shock, especially given Jack’s more vulnerable state. Without his staff, Pitch could easily overpower Jack.
“Why did you do that?” Pitch finally asked, his eyes narrowing on Jack’s face.
Jack may have gulped at the sight of that . . . almost a glare. It wasn’t quite a glare yet. “I—.” Jack just couldn’t speak today. ‘I’ seemed to be the only word he knew. “I—.”
“While your stuttering is rather compelling, I’d appreciate it if you told what just transpired here.” Pitch was taking this entirely too calmly. Based on his voice alone, one would think this sort of thing happened every day. His facial expression read otherwise, however.
“I don’t know,” Jack finally said. He grumbled to himself, calling himself several different kinds of inaudible names as he grabbed his hair and crouched to the ground in panic. “Shit, what am I doing?” was the first audible thing he asked himself once he’d finished the string of ‘idiot’s, ‘dumbass’s, and other assorted names. At this point, he was actually certain that if Pitch didn’t kill him, the Guardians would. Someone was going to kill him for that.
He almost jumped when Pitch placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. The Guardian looked up, but found that the Nightmare King was standing behind him. How had he moved there without Jack detecting him? “All those things you said. About regretting and guilt. Were you being serious?”
Jack’s eyes met Pitch’s. So unreadable. How could Pitch be so unreadable after what Jack had done? But Jack sighed, closed his eyes, and turned his face away. He wrapped his arms around his legs as he sat. “Yeah.”
“You’re . . . being honest?” Pitch asked.
Jack squinted up at him. “Are you just asking me the same question, but in a different way? Yeah, I was serious. Yeah, I’m being honest. Yeah, I kissed you—.”
Jack gasped as Pitch suddenly lifted him off the ground and turned him around to face him. Before Jack could even ask, he was being kissed senseless. Every thought that had been gunning for attention in his mind completely and utterly disappeared then. He still had enough sense to wrap his arms around Pitch’s neck, thankfully. The Boogeyman was just tall enough that if Jack fell, it would leave yet another set of bruises. Judging from the tight grip Pitch had on his waist, the likelihood of that happening was second to none.
Jack’s skin was naturally cold, and Pitch’s skin felt smoldering. The areas where Pitch was making contact with him were sweating. His lips felt like they were on fire. When Pitch’s tongue invaded Jack’s mouth, Jack whimpered in surprise at the heat. The whimper became a moan as Jack used his own tongue. He grunted in surprise when Pitch pressed him into the wall he’d been trapped against mere minutes before. This time, he wasn’t panicking. In fact, he was feeling quite the opposite, which technically should have made him panic.
Because Jack Frost was wrapping his legs around the waist of and making out with the incredibly tall Pitch Black.
What am I doing? Pitch thought to himself for the briefest of moments. But then he was too wrapped up in the one person he was supposed to hate the most to put serious thought into the question. And that feeling. That feeling that keeps coming back at the strangest times was roaring inside him now. He couldn’t get close enough to Jack. He was almost twice the Guardian’s size and could probably hide the boy in his robes, and yet he still couldn’t get enough of him. He couldn’t feel enough of him.
Pitch reached under Jack’s shirt with both hands, and the winter spirit tensed. Soon the boy melted into his touch, and Pitch let loose a growl at the coolness of Jack’s skin. He dug his fingernails into Jack’s sides, glad that he’d retracted his claws because Jack pulled back and unleashed a pleasant cry mixed with pain and pleasure. Jack leaned his head back just enough to expose his throat to Pitch, and the Nightmare King couldn’t help but lean forward and seize that skin with his teeth. Jack cried out again, the cry turning into a light whimper as Pitch teased the skin with his tongue. He bit down, sure that he was going to leave a mark, just to hear that cry again.
Pitch looked back up at Jack to see him blushing. The red looked odd against the Guardian’s pale cheeks. Before he could stop himself, Pitch was pulling Jack’s shirt over the boy’s head. The winter spirit lifted his arms to allow the removal, then wrapped them back around Pitch’s neck when the sweatshirt was removed. When he tossed it to the side, he leaned in to nip Jack’s lips. His attention was caught on just how much redder Jack’s cheeks were since his top had been removed. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”
“Uh . . .,” Jack’s voice trailed off. “No?”
“No?” Pitch breathed against the boy’s lips. Jack was trembling, absolutely trembling in Pitch’s arms. Pitch crushed the boy closer to his chest, knowing full well the stone wall was biting into the skin of Jack’s back.
“No, nothing like this,” Jack answered, the slightest hint of nervousness in his tone.
A sly grin whipped across Pitch’s face. He whispered against Jack’s lips, “I suppose that makes me special.”
“Don’t give yourself too much of a boost, there, Boogeyman,” Jack warned, but Pitch could hear the temptation, the desire for more in his tone. Jack’s lids were entirely too heavy and his voice barely a whisper. Pitch’s smile grew before he leaned in for another kiss. Jack moaned against his lips. Pitch ran a hand over Jack’s cool chest, letting it roam over the skin of the boy’s nipple. He teased it for just a moment, then went back to admiring the winter spirit’s lovely pale skin. He admired the way Jack’s body shuddered beneath his hands, growled softly at the way Jack whined when Pitch dragged his nails over the vulnerable skin of the boy’s belly. When Pitch reached down to cup the hardness growing in Jack’s crotch, the Guardian gasped while one of his hands gripped Pitch’s shoulder tightly. “Pitch!” he cried before biting his lip.
“Your screams are so lovely. Don’t bite your lip now,” Pitch whispered in Jack’s ear as his grip tightened ever so slightly. Jack moaned freely and loudly as Pitch ran his tongue over the boy’s ear. Biting the neck just under the ear elicited an even more beautiful reaction from the Guardian. Jack Frost actually ground his hips into Pitch’s hand.
“Pitch?” Jack groaned softly.
“Hm,” the Nightmare King moaned against the boy’s skin as he bit Jack yet again.
“Why are your clothes still on?”
Pitch smiled against the boy’s neck. “For someone so inexperienced, you’re quite eager.”
“You’re the one doing all the work. I was just—shit!” Jack cried out again as Pitch bit his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Pitch knew it was painful. He also knew that Jack liked it. He reveled at the feel of the boy digging his fingers into his back, holding onto Pitch for dear life as his legs tightened around the Boogeyman’s waist.
With the hand that had been grasping Jack’s groin, Pitch undid his robe and slid his arms out of it one at a time, switching off so that he was still holding Jack up. Although, he didn’t think it was necessary. The boy was so wrapped around him that he had to untangle the robe from Jack about as much as he had to untangle it from himself. After the robe dropped to his feet, Pitch managed to flip Jack around so that he was pressing the boy’s front into the wall instead of his back, angling his hips so that they were pressed against Jack’s rather tight ass. That pressure and Pitch’s hands were enough to hold the fairly light boy up against the wall. Jack splayed his hands on the wall, unsure of what to do with them now that he wasn’t facing Pitch. Pitch could also feel the slightest panic within the boy because he really had no way of holding on and ensuring that he didn’t fall. Pitch smirked, his hands sliding from Jack’s hips, over his back, to the boy’s forearms where he could hold them in place on the stone. Another wave of panic made Pitch gentle his grip on Jack’s arms. The Nightmare King noted how the idea of being bound seemed to bother the winter spirit, and he didn’t want him scared at this moment. Maybe later. For now, he leaned in to feel the chill of the boy’s back, whispering into Jack’s ear, “If I want you on the floor, I’ll put you there. For now, I like having you against this wall.”
Jack sighed and shuddered against him as Pitch spoke. Pitch’s hot breath against the boy’s neck was enough to bring out another shudder as a gray hand travelled the length of Jack’s arm back down to a thin shoulder which had not yet been marked. Grasping the area where his palm had landed, Pitch raked his teeth over Jack’s flesh, making the Guardian whimper and brace for the bite that was surely to follow. Oh, but Pitch wasn’t going to bite him again just yet. Not while the boy was tense and prepared for it. The point before had been to distract Jack from talking. Now, Pitch was just teasing the boy. Though the Guardian clearly expected pain, Pitch gave him no such thing. Instead, he ran his mouth over the pale, cool skin, loving how his tongue numbed against the flesh of Jack Frost.
“Do I taste good to you or something?” Jack was trying to sound sarcastic, but was doing poorly since his voice was shaky and his shoulders were trembling under Pitch’s lips.
“I haven’t decided yet. I think I need to keep sampling,” Pitch uttered against the back of Jack’s neck. He continued his openmouthed assault on Jack’s skin, moving over to where he had already bitten the boy. He sucked on the open wounds, the cool, metallic taste of Jack’s blood stinging his tongue. Jack moaned again as Pitch lapped at his wound. Without warning, Pitch ground his hips against Jack’s rump. The boy jumped, and Pitch knew that he was now even more aware of the bulge in Pitch’s pants. Pitch certainly was. The thing was getting harder and harder to ignore the more he played with Jack. “No, the floor just won’t do for this.”
Pitch’s hands circled around Jack’s waist and shoulders as he disappeared into the shadows with him. In a flash, he had transported them to Pitch’s bed. Jack was face down in the sheets, Pitch looming over top of him. Before he could sit up, Pitch was untying and removing Jack’s pants. “Pitch, I’ve never—.”
“I’ve gathered that much,” the Nightmare King cut him off, admiring the returning flush in Jack’s cheeks as the boy lay completely naked beneath him. Pitch leaned into the winter spirit, pressing his chest against the boy’s small back as a hand reached to grasp Jack’s throat ever so lightly. Jack gasped at the sensation, and Pitch took the opportunity to let two long fingers slide into Jack’s mouth. “Now suck.” Jack did as he was told, the inside of his mouth chilling Pitch’s fingers. When Pitch felt that his fingers were nice and slick, he slipped them from Jack’s mouth and inserted them into his ass. The boy buried his face in the sheets and cried out. “Oh no,” Pitch murmured, his other hand lifting Jack’s face out of the sheets by the throat and, in turn, pressing the boy even closer to Pitch’s chest. “I want to hear every scream.”
Pitch slid his fingers in and out, listening intently to the way Jack moaned and shouted. Sometimes the boy was even capable of forming coherent sentences as Pitch worked his fingers and widened the hole. Those moments were rare. They became even rarer when Pitch slid a third into Jack. The sound that Jack made upon that entry caused Pitch to grit his teeth. He wanted to bite the boy’s shoulder again, further mark him as his. But he couldn’t. He had to wait for the right moment. However, the notion that Jack belonged to him was almost enough to make him want to penetrate the boy right then and there. Again, he had to wait. Jack was already going to feel plenty of pain. So Pitch continued widening and stretching Jack’s entrance, placing more openmouthed kisses on the boy’s back as he slid his fingers in and out at a steady pace.
Finally, Pitch’s patience wore thin. He removed his fingers, groaning at the sound of Jack’s almost disappointed moan, then undid his pants to free his member. Pressing himself against Jack’s entrance, he pushed in. Jack’s scream was louder than any he had released before. It was also regrettably shorter, but he was still so tight that Pitch had to fight to keep himself from thrusting.
Jack shook harder against him, whimpering at the size of Pitch. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he let out a string or curses as if it would help him adjust faster. His hands clenched into the sheets, his knuckles whitening more than Pitch had thought possible. “Pitch, it hurts!”
“Would you like a distraction?” The boy bit his lip, moaned, and nodded. Now that was what Pitch wanted to hear. He angled his head over Jack’s unmarked shoulder and bit down on the pale skin.
“Pitch!” The sound of his name on the boy’s quivering lips only made Pitch bite harder. He drank the boy’s blood as it seeped into his mouth. When he was certain the boy could endure no more, Pitch relinquished his sharp teeth and relieved the open wounds with his tongue. Jack relaxed completely against Pitch, and the Nightmare King took that as the go ahead. He thrust gently at first, moving slowly just in case. Jack moaned, no longer expressing any sounds of pain. Pitch thrust faster, angling his hips in search of the boy’s sweet spot. He knew he’d found it when Jack let out the loveliest series of cries yet.
“Mm,” Pitch growled in Jack’s ear. “You are absolutely gorgeous like this.” He began thrusting harder then, hungry for more of Jack’s beautiful sounds.
Then he stopped abruptly. It killed him to, but he pulled out anyway. “Pitch, what—fuck!” Jack’s alarm at being flipped over to face the Nightmare King amused Pitch. Pitch ran his hands down Jack’s body until they reached the boy’s thighs. Jack made a surprised noise as Pitch lifted and spread his thighs wide enough for Pitch to regain entry. The Guardian cried out again as Pitch thrust into him harder and faster than before. Pitch groaned when Jack wrapped his arms around Pitch’s neck and held on tight. Reaching down, Pitch took Jack’s erection in his hand and pumped it in time with his thrusts. Jack bucked his hips into Pitch’s hand, screaming now.
“That’s it, Jack,” Pitch said, leaning forward so that he was speaking into Jack’s ear again. Before he knew what he was saying, Pitch whispered, “You’re mine now.”
He didn’t count how many more thrusts and pumps it took, but he knew it hadn’t taken many for the tension in his groin to release and his seed to spill inside of the young Guardian. Jack’s orgasm followed soon after, the cold liquid spilling between them while some got onto Pitch’s hand. He thought nothing of it. He was too busy stealing another kiss from the boy underneath him, who still clung to his neck.
Jack had fallen asleep in the arms of the Boogeyman. Of course, that was the least of his worries. His body still ached from their activities. He couldn’t tell how long he’d slept, given that there was little to no light seeping into the lair. He’d been too tired to do anything let alone leave. He honestly didn’t want to think about the ridicule that would surely await him once the other Guardians found out. There was no doubt in his mind that they would.
He opened his eyes, gathering his bearings. His forehead was resting on Pitch’s shoulder. He was sweating everywhere Pitch was touching, and Pitch was large enough and clinging to enough of him that Jack wasn’t entirely sure every inch of him wasn’t in some form of contact with Pitch. The Nightmare King was fairly still save for a large, gray hand stroking Jack’s white hair. It would take more effort than Jack was willing or able to make in order to crawl out of the full body embrace Pitch had tucked him into. He could at least meet the Boogeyman’s silvery-yellow eyes. That much movement was allowed him.
“Have you just been watching me sleep, or did you go to sleep too?” Jack asked softly.
“I don’t sleep very often.”
“Then why do you have a bed?”
“Just in case I do actually need to sleep. We all sleep sometime.”
“Sure we do. I’m surprised you didn’t give me a bad dream or something.”
“Only after the second quote unquote date.”
“Haha.” He actually did snort at that. Jack closed his eyes and sighed. His mind wandered for a while, then he came back to the topic that had started this whole mess. “You don’t actually know what made you save me, do you?”
Pitch sighed, then answered, “No. But after what just transpired, I think we can overlook that little riddle.”
Jack snorted again. “I guess. What does matter is how I’m gonna live through this.”
“Surely the Guardians won’t punish you for abating the Nightmare King’s famous foul mood.”
“You really do think I’m yours, now, don’t you?” Jack looked up in time to see the smallest smile tug at Pitch’s lips. Jack smirked back at him. “That’s a silly question, isn’t it?” Pitch’s eyes flashed, and Jack could already tell the Boogeyman was planning something that may or may not be sinister. “I don’t wanna know.”
“You’re assuming too much,” Pitch muttered slyly.
“With you? There is no such thing as assuming too much.”
“You’re exaggerating now.”
“Hm.” Jack tried to sit up so that he could at least look Pitch in the face. The Nightmare King relinquished some of his hold on him to allow for this. It took some doing, and the aching wasn’t so unpleasant. He met Pitch’s gaze evenly. “You’re really serious about this?”
Pitch gave him a caustic stare. “Do you think you’d be alive if I weren’t?”
“Point taken. But . . . you want this?”
“Do you?”
Jack had only heard that much sadness in Pitch’s voice when he had initially denied an allegiance between them. Oddly, it made Jack feel guiltier than he already did. “Yes. You know my limits. I somewhat know yours. As long as I don’t get killed by the other Guardians, this could work out.”
“Your willingness to trust me is truly baffling.”
“Yeah, well, you were special enough to take my virginity.” Pitch smiled at that comment. “Am I gonna see my staff again anytime soon?”
“Now where’s the fun in me just giving it back to you?” The deviousness in Pitch’s tone and facial expression returned.
Jack huffed at that, squinting at his new . . . partner? Bedmate? Fuck buddy? Mouth date? What would the two of them be called nowadays? Jack stopped thinking about it before he confused himself. “So much for trust.”
“Oh, I’ll procure it before you leave.” Pitch pulled Jack into a possessive hug.
Jack couldn’t help but smile at the rather uncharacteristic contact. “Okay, Nightmare King. When exactly am I allowed to leave?”
“Never.” Jack chuckled, the chuckle turning into a nervous giggle. He only hoped Pitch wasn’t being serious this time. “If the Guardians hurt you for this, I’ll kill them.”
“I believe you.” For a brief moment, Jack focused on the contrast of his skin and Pitch’s. Cold and dark. The two really did go together well. Jack wasn’t quite sure he was ready to tell Pitch he was right. Now that would go to the Boogeyman’s head faster than taking the winter spirit’s virginity.