First, I would like to say thank you to everyone who read In the Dark and any of my other works, on here, AO3, and Tumblr. Occasionally, I'll still get a favorite or some Kudos and it really makes my day that people are still reading my story and enjoying it.
Second, I want to thank Hikari for beta-ing for me again. She's awesome and check her out Tumblr on if you haven't already!
Third, a slight warning. This does get pretty dark, at least in my and Hikari's opinion (and when it's dark for Eli, you know it's dark). I didn't realize how bad it was going to get until I started planning and writing things out more thoroughly and then BAM. So, Imma just throw the rape/noncon warning up just in case. You'll see what I mean when we get there.
And that's it, I think. Enjoy!
Jack stands in the middle of his new apartment. It is small and dingy, sparsely furnished, and the landlady said the shower runs cold when the toilet flushes. None of that matters, though, because it is his. Besides, he's the only one living there – well, not quite, but the only one who'll be making use of those facilities. To his knowledge, Pitch doesn't need to eat or sleep or anything of the like.
Pitch does, however, need to inspect every inch of their new space. Dusk's light filtering through the slated blinds of the windows provides the perfect atmosphere for Pitch to shift through the shadows, and Jack can hardly get a fix on him before he's melding into the darkness and appearing on the other side of the room. After a few minutes, Pitch finally stops near a stain on the wall.
"Do you really think this place is livable? This looks very much like mold," he says, running a finger over the stain.
Jack rolls his eyes and decides to ignore the comments. "Are you sure you're able to follow me here? Like, you're not tied to my room or anything?"
"I can go to any place I please. I simply prefer that to be wherever you are. And don't change the subject."
"I'm not trying to change the subject. I mean, if you can't be here then it's not exactly habitable, is it?" Jack takes a few steps toward Pitch, a suggestive smile tilting his lips.
"You're still avoiding my question," Pitch says as he crosses his arms. Jack knows he has to answer before they can move on.
"I don't think that's mold. It's probably just a water stain or something. Since when do you care anyway? It's not like it can affect you."
"But it can harm you."
Ah, there it is. Pitch's overprotective tendencies haven't let up since the incident with the gunman several months ago. Jack supposes he can understand Pitch's worries, but they're also wearisome and occasionally interfere with his everyday life. He's really not in danger at any point, yet Pitch acts as if it lurks around every corner.
"Listen, okay? I'm fine. Nothing is out to get me. Everything is fine. And if there is mold here, I can just sue the landlady and make enough money to afford a nice, fancy, mold-free apartment. Sound good?"
"You're not taking things seriously enough –"
"What is there to take seriously!"
"Jack." Pitch's tone causes him to pause. The weight Pitch put into saying just his name snags his attention.
"What?" Jack responds, this time without a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"There's a lot to worry about. Do you really think I'm the only supernatural being? There are others out there, like myself, and they are not as benevolent."
A voice in the back of Jack's head whispers that Pitch wasn't benevolent either, that he terrorized him as a young child and did much worse when he was older. He pushes it aside, reminding himself that he's happier now than he ever was.
"Well, they're not as powerful as you, right? You can –"
"There are some that, while not stronger on the basis of individual power, have certain aspects that specifically target my weaknesses. That makes them formidable enemies."
"But still beatable?"
"Not without some trouble, which I would rather avoid."
"But still beatable?" Jack repeats.
"In the end, yes. But there's no telling what could happen in the time it would take for such a spirit to be defeated."
"But they'll still be defeated! All I'm saying is that everything would turn out right in the end." When Pitch doesn't answer right away, Jack adds, "Just like it did last time."
"I suppose," Pitch answers after a pause.
"Now that we got that out of the way . . ." Jack takes a step toward Pitch again and, this time, Pitch relents, reaching out to cup Jack's cheek, pulling him closer. "You know, when you move into a new place, it's a tradition to christen it by having sex in every room."
Jack knows his victory is secured when Pitch smirks. "Normally I would find your human traditions frivolous, but I approve of this one. It's just a shame there are so few rooms here."
Jack's lips curl into a smirk of his own as they press against Pitch's. His hands come up to grip the front of Pitch's robe and arms wrap around him in a trapping embrace. This is one of Jack's favorite parts of their more intimate activities, just being surrounded by Pitch.
Pitch's hands slide down and hook around the backs of his thighs, lifting him up. Jack braces his knees around Pitch's waist and wraps his arms around Pitch's neck for extra support.
Pitch breaks the kiss long enough to hurriedly whisper, "Where to?"
"Wherever's – closest," Jack manages between kisses.
The couch is right next to them and Pitch walks in that direction, so Jack expects to be thrown down onto it and then crushed by Pitch's weight. He's surprised when Pitch lowers him to his feet and completely releases him before sitting back himself.
"Take off your hoodie, Jack," he says simply, crossing his ankle over a knee.
Jack's heart skips a beat. Pitch wants to watch him undress. This is something they've never done before. Most of the time, they are in such a hurry that Jack never quite manages to shed all his clothes, that or they're ripped off too quickly for either of them to savor the moment.
Swallowing past his suddenly dry throat, Jack grips the hem of his hoodie and quickly pulls it up and over his head. He's wearing a shirt underneath, but he's still self-conscious as he drops the hoodie to the floor.
"Now your shirt. Slower this time." The way Pitch appraises him makes him feel examined.
With tightly shut eyes, Jack curls his fingers around the bottom of his shirt. He's not sure what pace Pitch wants, so he pulls it up to right above his navel in the time it takes to inhale.
"Just like that, but open your eyes."
Jack's legs go weak at that. He's mortified enough just thinking about this, never mind looking at Pitch as he actually does it. As he continues pulling his shirt up, he forces his eyes open. The intensity of the hunger reflected in Pitch's eyes makes Jack want to close them again, but thankfully he's pulling the shirt over his head and the eye contact is broken.
It's not until the shirt has fallen to the floor beside the hoodie that Jack realizes there is nothing left to hide his face behind. He resists the urge to cover it with his hands, opting to stare right at Pitch with a bravado he doesn't really feel.
"Very nice." Jack swears he can feel pinpricks of sensation as Pitch's eyes rake over his body. "I'm sure you know what comes next."
Oh, he knows. It's obvious, just like the bulge in his pants, which is about to become even more obvious. Jack fumbles with the button of his jeans and forgets how zippers work, but he refuses to look down; he doesn't want to look away from Pitch.
Finally unfastened, his pants slip past his hips. Here, Jack hesitates. Bending over seems too awkward a position for this, but it's the only way to remove his pants. Figuring he might as well make the most of it, he turns around before he can lose his nerve. The direction he's facing presents Pitch with a nice view of his ass when he bends over. Jack sneaks a glance at Pitch and is nearly overwhelmed at the approval he sees. He has to turn all his concentration to stepping out of his jeans so he doesn't fall over.
Left in his boxers, Jack is glad the first thing he did when he arrived at the apartment was remove his shoes and socks so he could pad around barefoot; the fewer articles of clothing to fumble through removing, the better.
He turns back to Pitch for further instruction. There really is only one action he can take, one article of clothing to shed, but he can't bring himself to do it of his own volition.
"Now, Jack," Pitch says, a lazy smile creeping across his face, "there's only one thing left."
Jack nods in affirmative, knowing there's nothing to do short of pulling down his boxers, which he isn't going to do without an explicit statement from Pitch.
"So . . . take them off," Pitch hisses, ending with a biting smirk.
Even though he's gotten what he wanted, it's difficult to convince himself to follow through with it. Jack toys with the elastic waistband, thankful that Pitch didn't tell him to look at him this time. He forces himself to grip and pull down. It's done swiftly and he kicks his boxers to the side. When he finally does look up, he becomes acutely aware that Pitch is still wearing all his own clothes, which is unfair and arousing at the same time.
"Very good, Jack." Despite his embarrassment, the praise pleases Jack and he can't help but stand a little straighter. "You can come here now."
Jack, knowing this will take his mind off how vulnerable he feels, quickly approaches Pitch and straddles his lap. He finds that he is wrong, as the strange material of Pitch's pants scratches against his inner thighs and reminds him that Pitch is still completely clothed while he is not.
Pitch's hands strokes up his sides, distracting him. Jack gives himself over to the sensation, grinding against Pitch, moaning at how hard they both are. Pitch's hands move back down his body, curling around to his back. They cup his ass, encouraging Jack's movements and pulling him closer.
Jack freezes when the hands grip his cheeks and pull them apart. A finger circles his entrance with a feather-light touch and he shudders, arching his back. He wants to push back on it, but knows Pitch is testing his restraint. Settling for clutching Pitch's shoulders, Jack lets a high keen escape from his throat. He begs with his eyes, though he can tell Pitch is going to make him beg with his words before he goes any further.
"What do you want, Jack?"
"I-I want –" Jack abruptly cuts off when he feels the tip of Pitch's finger breach him. His lust finally overtakes his embarrassment and he bursts out, "I want you inside me."
He gasps as the finger slips in until knuckles rest against his ass. It's only just a portion of what he hoped for; he's going to have to tell Pitch to get what he really wants.
"More," he moans.
"Already? I've barely started." Despite his words, Pitch's tone conveys he would like nothing more than to comply.
"Please!" Jack's voice is strained from the effort of keeping still.
The finger slowly pulls out nearly all the way before sliding back in with a second finger. They spread inside, stretching him, and Jack has to clench his jaw and press his face into Pitch's shoulder to keep himself under control. His legs are starting to ache from how tensed he must keep them to prevent any movement.
The fingers continue thrusting into him, and Jack just barely holds on. He's so close already. Letting go is so tempting, but he knows that's not what Pitch wants and Jack is desperate to please him.
When the fingers hit that spot inside him, he jerks involuntarily and nearly comes right then. Pitch's other hand, still gripping his ass cheek, gives a reprimanding squeeze.
"Please, Pitch, please. I can't hold on much longer." Jack's voice is high, just shy of being a whine.
"Soon, Jack," Pitch says and the fingers withdraw, leaving Jack feeling terribly empty.
Pitch levers him up and Jack feels the head of his cock nudge at his entrance before he's lowered down onto it. He bites his lip, choking back a moan when he finally settles against Pitch's hips. Jack is ready to begin right away, but Pitch stays him with a firm hand on his hip.
It's not long before Jack's shaking with the effort of not moving. Then, Pitch's hand leaves his hip to card through his hair and Pitch leans forward to whisper in his ear, "Show me how much you want it, Jack."
He's all too happy to comply.
His legs are already sore, but he forces himself up and back down. The pace he sets is too fast, too erratic, too sloppy, but he doesn't care. He's desperate and determined and he's going after what he wants. And what he wants is Pitch.
Though he's panting and almost there much sooner than he would have liked, Jack can tell from Pitch's expression that he is close as well. "That's it, Jack, just like that. Let go, I know you want to."
That encouragement is all he needs and Jack cries out as he comes, throwing his head back. Pitch begins to thrust up as he clenches around him, the tightness bringing about his own release.
Thoroughly sated, Jack slumps forward to curl into Pitch's chest. Pitch holds him, running a hand through his hair and murmuring words of praise in his ear.
This is perfect, is all Jack can think.