It started with fear, resentment, and excitement.

Dark Pit (or rather, Pittoo), was backed against a wall in some descrete corner of the sky world-purposefully. He held Pit against him, hands closed around the other's thin arms tightly, not letting the other move away. The white winged angel was pressed up against him, obviously a bit uncomfortable, squirming under Pittoo's hold in some weak form of protest.

"Hey, come on, you can't really mean-"

"You agreed, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but not like this!"

Pit looked over his shoulder nervously, a quick glance at his back confirming again what he already knew-no one was around, and no one would hear. They chose the place for that very reason, and yet Pit still felt incredibly nervous, fearful that someone would hear the impure words and sounds coming from his lips.

"You know as well as I this is the only way, " Pittoo hissed, once again pulling Pit a bit closer to himself. "You can't fly far-you need your legs, and the Goddess will want you working. I don't have that problem. Do you want her to know?"

"I know, I know, you're right! But... That's not..." Pit frowned, ready to bite his lip, if he were in the habit. His brows furrowed in a way to suggest that explaining was difficult. "To take another... To see them in any pain at all, or make them scream... I don't like that." His voice dipped a a volume as low as he hung his head, embarrassment written all over him. "I don't want to be the one in that position. That's... it's not what I feel comfortable with."

"So you'd rather get hurt instead?" Pittoo glared at the blushing boy, and gripped the captive arms even tighter, making Pit wince slightly. "I already told you, this is the only way it will work. You know that. And I'll feel good, so stop being a baby and get on with it already!"

Pit looked up, an angry embarrassment covering his cheeks. Pittoo, relaxing his hold a bit, leaned his head forward while gazing into the other's eyes, his gaze level and heavy. In a quiet voice, he breathed,

"Don't you want me, Pit?"

The other gulped, mouth in a tense line. He gave a small nod, eyes fixated on the others. Pittoo continued to relax the hold, keeping eye contact all the while, and slowly freed Pit's sore limbs, instead wrapping his own arms around Pit's neck. Drawing him ever closer, he breathed the words onto his pink lips.

"You want me, right, Pit?"
"Yeah, of course I do."
"You want me?"

Eyes heavy, Pit snaked an arm around Pittoo's waist, this time being the one to draw them closer. "I want you." They kissed, a sultry, passionate thing, and melded their bodies closer together. What brought the two this close, neither could say-it could have been the excitement of the unknown, or the attractiveness of something dangerous and forbidden. Maybe it was how closed they were linked, or how different they somehow were. But something had blossomed between them, and somehow, they had been caught up in it. Today they had decided to finally drown in it.

But there were stranger reasons than just passion for Pittoo, something deeper. Maybe Pit could simply be swept away, but for Pittoo, his motivations were as convoluted at tangled strings, darker than even his own wings. There was his own obsession with his very being, his existence, that drove him to pull Pit closer and deeper within himself.

There were his doubts about how 'whole' he was that forced him to draw his counterpart closer. There were fears of his importance, realizing he was only a copy, replica, knockoff, that made him crave someone' most intimate attention and desire. There was his at times insistent hate for his own lack of freedom from Pit's identity that resulted in a need to punish both of them in some inadvertent way; a way like making them both do something they knew wasn't right.

They were both fooling themselves a little, but Pittoo the most of all. Pressed against the cold wall again and again and Pit pushed into him, Pittoo realized in some small way that he was punishing himself. Because he was a reflection. He was a reflection, and that made him question his own fragility.

In some small, quiet part of his mind, Pittoo asked himself, 'how easily does a reflection break'?

So he let his body cling to the boy who rammed into him, and cherished the pain just as much as the pleasure. He maneuvered his body so that it would go deeper and deeper into himself, if only to satisfy his lust for damage. He fed off of self destruction, to see whether it would make him shatter like the mirror he was borne from.

And at the end of the night, when he found that he was unbroken, unshattered, and undestroyed, he felt a satisfaction that far outlasted the physical remains of their tirade.

This was reaffirmation that he was not fragile. This was reaffirmation that he was a sturdy, strong being, a living organism, that wouldn't be decimated so easy, even at the hand of it's creator. And that, at least for a moment, made him feel safe in a way he didn't fully understand.

It was those feelings deep within him that made Pittoo solicit his white winged counterpart for a second encounter, and multiple afterwards, They were not his sole motivations-they certainly didn't cause their lips to lock or their hearts to swell-but they were there, and underlying force. Each time, there was always that small strike of fear that he wouldn't live to 'next time', and each time him did, it was with an incredibly fulfilling pride.

But his hunger for self destruction was never truly put at bay. Not for long, anyway.