Okay, so this is a request from purpledragon6. I've been busy lately… Can you tell? Ugh. Constantly feel like I'm covered in sweat…
The Dreams
A porcelain doll danced upon a dark, reflective slate of chipped, icy glass. Twisting, turning, churning. Long limbs moved elegantly, gliding across the paper thin surface with a practiced ease. Delicate fingers curled and flexed as a pale spine arched and bent with the blowing wind. Every muscle worked as one as the angel danced across a frozen reflection of the moon. Even its likeness seemed yellow when placed beside the beautiful boy.
Snowy white hair ruffled with the breeze- his forever companion. Long, dark lashes shifted and touched gracefully with each blink of eyes like clear, pure, untouched Antarctic waters. Every close shut the world off from the beauty, every flutter open was a gift to savor. His eyes closed as he spun perfectly across the ice.
His legs, toned and thin, rolled him into every movement. The slightest push of a single muscle propelled him into a lovely, precise slide. His arms unneeded, but used with each emotion and feeling coursing through pale blue veins, visible only on thin, porcelain wrists not hidden away by a bulky blue hooded sweater. The fabric, unlike the perfect boy, caught every twist, every turn in a clunky, clumsy manner. It made ugly noise as it folded over itself and distracted from the one wearing it.
Slowly the boy came to a stop. Beautiful blue eyes glistened with curiosity and recognition. Gentle steps were taken, moving closer, away from the frozen stage he owned so perfectly.
Soft pink lips parted as the voice traveled across the blowing breeze in a whisper.
"Pitch…"
Pitch Black's golden eyes opened instantaneously. He'd had another dream about him…
It unnerved him in ways no nightmare ever could. Nightmares he could handle, sweet, tantalizing, tempting even, dreams were another story. Dreams that illustrated the deepest desires of his heart… Things he could never have…
Perhaps he should be happy that this dream was one of the more peaceful and light he'd had recently. But Pitch wasn't one for being grateful. He was more of the constant loathing type. He loathed the simple fact that he had even dreamed at all. Regardless if it was gentle or not.
Sitting up from his pillow, the King of Nightmares touched his grey fingers to his blackened heart.
He hated days like this.
He could feel his heart beating, yearning for the boy in his dreams. It always made him feel so warm… So happy to see him in his sleep.
He hated it. It made him angry to feel so happy to not have what he wanted.
Jack Frost… How long had he been having these dreams now…? Ever since laying eyes on the pubescent beauty all those years ago… Seeing such a delicate, pale form rise up from the water in such a lovely way…
Pitch had been drawn in by the fear the boy felt. The fear of not knowing where he was. Of why he felt so cold. Of the dark…
He waited in the shadows as the frozen lake shattered. The fear was fading… Why…? He hadn't even seen who the owner of the fear was. Who could overcome such intense fears so quickly…?
And Pitch had stared in awe as a perfect, pale face rose from the waters. He inhaled as the boy inhaled, feeling as though he too had been holding a dying breath. Pitch's eyes had flowed down from the boy's snowy hair to his bare feet like water. His fingers curled as he saw the boy's toes curl.
Questions quickly formed.
Who was this angel? Where had he come from? Why had Pitch never seen him before this?
Of course, Pitch learned with time that the child was Jack Frost, a spirit of winter. He had fleeting moments of catching a glimpse of the boy as he danced across the lake of his birth, times he stopped and watched him, moments of longing to speak to him.
He got his wish… Once a couple hundred years before the others. It had been a strange exchange.
Pitch had merely wandered out to the lake to rest himself on a rock. He was weary, tired, weakened. He had hoped for a moment of peace. Shattered by the sound of bare feet landing gently to the earth. Pitch had lifted his head from his hand.
And golden eyes had met blue. The boy, who had previously been padding nearer to him, froze on the spot. A statue the humans would never be able to make. Such perfection couldn't be copied.
They stared at each other like that for quite some time. Neither spoke, neither moved. They just stared at each other…
Finally the boy, though meekly, glanced around and chose to step forward again. Pitch had allowed his hand to slide to his lap as he watched the boy creep toward him. What was he doing? Did the boy think he couldn't…
"I can see you quite plainly, boy," he said, assuring the fearful sprite of his existence.
Jack had frozen once more. He looked like a rabbit when caught in the eyes of a hunter. Such wide eyes… Pitch had found himself staring with resentment for the beauty that affected him so.
"You can…?" the boy whispered, the fear of having heard wrong rolling off of him in waves. Pitch nodded gently. "So… are you… a spirit?" he asked quietly, moving forward, fingers clutching the staff in his hands like his life depended on it.
"I am," Pitch replied. The boy tilted his head to the left slightly, hair swishing gently to fall that way. Such beauty…
The boy was within arms' reach now. He leaned on the wooden staff and stared down at him with a curiosity that made Pitch want to see into that pretty head of his.
"Who are you?" he asked, smiling a little, looking him over with an impishness to him that tickled Pitch to the point that it revolted him.
Offering a meager smile in return, Pitch said, "You may have heard mentions of me if you spend time around the humans…" Which Pitch knew the boy did. "I am most often referred to as The Boogeyman."
Jack's eyes sparked with recognition. He had heard of him. But Pitch could quickly see it was not a good sense of recognition. "You're Pitch Black," he said, stepping back. Pitch sensed fear. Fear toward him… He hadn't felt fear directed toward him in eons.
"I've heard of you," Jack said, stepping back again, "I've met others. They've spoken of you… You're not a kind spirit… You hurt the children…"
"I bring them Nightmares," Pitch said, "Or… more accurately, I used to give them Nightmares…"
Jack frowned curiously. As if inwardly debating whether or not to ask a question plaguing him. "What do you mean?" he gave in to his curiosity.
Eyes never leaving the boy's, Pitch confessed something to him he himself had yet to accept. "I am not as strong as I once was… I've been weakened… I can hardly cause fear anymore…" Jack stared at him. "I am no longer a threat…"
Jack gave a half-hearted smile to that. "Well… Good," he said, sounding unsure if it really was good, "Then… Kids won't have to be scared anymore…!" He gave a firm nod after that, convincing himself more than Pitch that this was why it was a good thing.
Looking away for the first time, Pitch muttered, "I suppose not… It seems my time has passed…" Jack gave a slightly pleased smile to that before pushing off the ice and flying into the air, leaving Pitch in solitude.
The next time he had seen him, Pitch couldn't believe where the boy was. Tooth Palace… With the Guardians. Why… What… He didn't understand. Was Jack friends with them?
He had decided in that moment he wanted to tease the boy. Appearing behind him, Pitch pretended his eyes didn't get lost staring at his ass.
He was so happy to see him again.
He hated it. He made a cruel stab at the fear he felt radiating from the icy spirit. He knew Jack was lonely. He felt it. If he was so lonely, why didn't he come to him? Pitch would love his company.
But Pitch didn't want his company. Jack was not what he wanted. He couldn't be what he wanted. What he wanted was to be believed in again. To be feared. To no longer have to hide under beds.
He didn't long for companionship like he thought when he shook with loneliness in the dark of the night. He longed for fear, respect.
Jack Frost was by no stretch of the imagination what he wanted.
Yet… Here he was, stalking toward him. Just sensing him nearby and Pitch instantly had to run to see him. To speak to him. To have his attention focused solely on him.
Jack revealed to him something critical about why he was with the Guardians again. His memories… Jack Frost didn't know who he was. He didn't know why he was chosen, why no one could see him, what made him special- nothing… Jack was alone in the world. Just like him…
Pitch could have him all to himself. He just needed to find a way to get him to agree.
When Jack came down that hole into his domain, Pitch felt his heart flutter with a joy that made him nauseous. He was so happy, but he was so sick of Jack. He wanted to mess with him, but at the same time he wanted to cuddle him.
Pitch ended up messing with Jack. And then regretting it. But then smirking about how well it went. Jack did strange things to him. He made him so indecisive.
And now… After losing his opportunity to ever have Jack to himself, here Pitch sat. Dreaming of him. Thinking of him. Wanting to have him but wanting to kill him because he wanted him. He had learned after his failure that the dreams would only keep coming. And only would get worse now that he had lost him.
Pitch chewed the insides of his cheeks as he pictured the stunning beauty from his sleep. Why did he have to be such a monster all the time? If he had just been kind to Jack the whole time, shown him true comfort, he might not be as alone now as he was. Of course… he could always force him.
Sighing, he stood and waltzed from his room. This happened every time. He would reminisce and argue with himself about what he had done wrong. Usually it lasted hours. And this often happened every single time he woke up. He wished he had been brave enough to speak up before the incident with the Guardians. Then he wouldn't have had to worry about losing Jack to them.
He laughed at himself for thinking that. He had been too afraid to talk to Jack for the 300 years the boy spent alone. He would have been ripe for the taking. And yet the Boogeyman had been too scared to do it.
Walking outside, he sat himself down upon the rock in the center of the frozen pond. It was a chilly morning. It faintly reminded him of Jack.
Looking down at his hands, Pitch wondered if he was meant to suffer alone for eternity. If only he had realized that what he did long for was a family before Antarctica.
Pitch bit his lip. That had been his biggest mistake. He never thought about it. It had been the undoing to all of his plans, not just Jack. Everything crumbled after that. He didn't like to think on it.
But then… Wasn't this technically thinking about it?
Sighing at his own pathetic-ness, Pitch mulled over his unhappiness. He supposed he should have been angry at the Guardians and especially Jack for making him alone again. But… Surprisingly, he wasn't mad at all. He was just…
"Lonely…" it had been a while since he had heard the sound of his own voice. He hardly ever spoke in his solitude. Why speak when you have no one to speak to? All of his Nightmares had been reduced to specks. He had no form of company.
He smirked to himself. "Just like before…"
The wind rustled his hair like leaves. But Pitch chose to ignore it. Whether or not it was a form of communication from the silent sprit that adored the Frost boy as much as he didn't matter to him. All that mattered was Jack.
He could always confront him on the subject. Like he had never done all those years ago… He could tell the boy that he had wanted him since his birth…
But Jack was with the Guardians now. Could he even get him alone to tell him?
"Would Jack even listen?"
"Would I listen to what?" Pitch jolted at the voice. He lifted his head and saw Jack floated down to his lake. He didn't look entirely pleased to see the Nightmare King perched upon his home, but didn't seem like he was going to kill him. (Probably knew that Pitch wasn't a threat.)
Pitch rolled his eyes as he realized how strikingly similar this was to when they first met. His time had passed. Yet again.
"You know, you're on my lake, Pitch," Jack bit out, leaning on his staff with a frown.
Pitch looked down at his hands. "My apologies," he grumbled sarcastically, "Now that you're a Guardian I suppose someone as low as me should keep to the shadows whenever you're around?"
Jack blinked, though Pitch didn't bother to see. "Geeze, gloom and doom much?" he commented snidely, meandering across the frozen water toward the defeated King. "What's got you so down? Besides getting shoved back under your bed."
Pitch looked at Jack's bare feet and smiled a little at his toes. "Just 'cuz you're sad doesn't mean I'm gonna feel bad for you," Jack said, frowning.
"I wouldn't expect you to," Pitch said, looking back up at him, "When have you ever felt bad for me?"
Jack blinked, looking like a deer in headlights. Pitch smirked at having caught him. He still got satisfaction from the suffering of others, however small and meaningless.
"Well, I guess I felt a little bad for you in Antarctica," Jack said. Pitch cringed at the word. "And when you got dragged back under your bed… I did feel pretty bad about that."
Pitch smirked at him. "The Prince of Frost cares for me, does he?" he teased, watching Jack's face fall into a scowl.
"No," Jack said, "I just felt bad."
"Pity," Pitch said, smiling at him, "Because I care for you."
Once again, Jack looked like he was an animal caught in the headlights. "You… I… What?" he gawked, staring down at him. Pitch gave a soft chuckle.
Suddenly Jack jumped into an offensive position. "I swear if this is some kind of trick!"
"No, no," Pitch said, raising a hand, "I'm not so foolish as to anger you when I'm weak… I was…" he exhaled slowly before saying, "Simply saying something I've wanted to say for over three hundred years…"
Now Jack's stance faltered. "Wha… What are you talking about?" he asked, finally giving up on his staff and letting it hand limp with his arms.
Rolling his shoulders, Pitch said, "I admire you. I have for quite a while…" Jack still didn't look like he got it. "It was part of the reason I treated you the way I did in… Antarctica," the word tasted like vinegar, "and before then as well…"
Jack blinked. "So… to try and tell me that you… liked me, you threw me around your stupid cave like a ragdoll, framed me for something I didn't do, and then tried to patch it up by blackmailing me?"
"Essentially, yes," Pitch said, smiling, "You make it sound as awful as it sounds in my head."
Jack stared at him for a minute. "Um, yeah. That's a terrible way to get someone to like you."
"How would you have preferred I attempt to court you?" Pitch asked, smiling. Jack blinked and, with a light blush that did not go unnoticed, looked away.
Chewing his lower lip a little, he mumbled, "I dunno, you coulda… said something… or something."
"You're so eloquent," Pitch teased. Jack scowled at him for it. "I wouldn't have expected you to want me to attempt to court you…"
Jack was finally sitting down on the ice- cross-legged. "Well, now I probably wouldn't. After all you've done. But back then I would've said yes…" he said, not looking embarrassed in the slightest anymore.
Pitch frowned now. "Why not now? After I've paid for what I've done?" he asked the boy, focusing his steely gaze on something other than those mesmerizing blue eyes. Why did Jack have to be so beautiful…?
Frowning, Jack said, "You still did it. You killed Sandy and almost the rest of us. All on purpose." He added in that last bit when Pitch looked to be about to argue back.
"Not you," Pitch said quietly, almost murmuring. Jack looked lost now. "You weren't a Guardian yet… You would've stayed… Belief wouldn't have affected you…"
Jack was gawking. Pitch couldn't help but smile at how perfect his face was. Looking down at his feet, Jack seemed to mull it over in his head. "So… you were going to kill all of my friends, but spare me, and assume that I'd want to be with you afterwards?"
Pitch rolled his shoulders. "You would have had nowhere else to turn… It sounded better in my head…"
"Nowhere else?" Jack repeated, looking at him.
"It would be the only way I could have you," Pitch said, scowling suddenly. He felt angry. Why did he feel angry? Why didn't Jack understand anything he was trying to tell him? "You wouldn't be with me unless you had no one else."
Jack looked at his feet again. "That's not exactly true…" he mumbled. Pitch was about to scream at him, scream about how stupid he was. "I'm with you right now when I could be with the others…" He gave a tiny smile and Pitch's anger fell apart.
He stared at him in horror instead.
"You pity me," he whispered in realization.
"Sorta," Jack replied, still smiling, "You were a horrible person, but I know how it feels to be in your shoes… So, I sorta feel bad…"
Pitch wanted to beat him. Why? Jack was showing him compassion and empathy, yet he wanted to hurt him for it.
Sighing, he let his shoulders fall in defeat. He wasn't going to get through this conversation. Not when the one on the other end drove him to such levels of insanity that he lost control of his own emotions.
He heard Jack walking. When had he gotten up?
"You look like you need a hug," he said. Pitch lifted his head to stare blankly up into those shimmering blue eyes. Jack gave him a soft smile.
They would go so perfectly together. Why couldn't Jack see that? They complimented each other in every way. So very opposite but so very similar. Jack should be his. Not the Guardians'. His.
Instead of accepting Jack's offer of a hug, Pitch stared blankly up at him. Jack laughed at that and leaned down and squeezed around his shoulders.
Pitch's resolve melted. Sighing, he slid his hands to Jack's back and held him in return. So cold… Jack sucked the heat away from him. But it felt right. It was so unique to Jack. No one else would feel this way. Pitch loved how cold he was. He loved everything about Jack. He. He…
"I love you."
Jack pulled his head back to stare down at the Boogeyman in shock. His cheeks slowly dusted over. Pitch smiled at that. He wanted to kiss away the frost forming there.
Pushing his lips forward slowly, he did just that. He relished the shivers his touch erupted in Jack. Jack's flesh was so cold. His skin tasted of freezing water. Water that was three hundred years old…
Looking back at the boy after having finished kissing his frozen blush away, Pitch smiled.
Jack's bright blue orbs flickered over every spot on Pith's grey face. They found his lips, then his eyes, then they re-discovered his lips.
Swallowing, inhaling quickly, minutely, so small Pitch wouldn't have noticed if the boy wasn't right against him, Jack tilted his head to his right ever so slightly and inched himself forward.
Soft, frozen, perfect lips that tasted exactly as Pitch dreamt they would met his in an exploration. In an experiment that Jack was brand new to.
At first, the boy did nothing at all. Just held himself there, lips pressed to Pitch's in a stiff, nervous kiss. But Pitch liked it. It told him that Jack had never done this before… That he was his first kiss.
Carefully, ever so carefully, Jack tilted his head more to the right and tried opening his lips a little, then sliding them back closed. Pitch's lips moved with his. He tried a few more of these testing motions before opening his mouth and trying to kiss Pitch fully.
It ended with Jack accidentally biting his own tongue and jumping back with a whimper.
Pitch chuckled. "Quite the first kiss," he teased, savoring the remnant taste of Jack on his tongue. Jack frowned unhappily and looked away.
Turning his head back to him, Pitch pulled the boy's chin into their second kiss. This time he took control. Sliding their lips together, running his tongue over Jack's gums, moaning just enough into the kiss to make Jack moan back. Icy fingers curled into the hair on the back of Pitch's neck. In response, Pitch pulled Jack's tongue into a dance.
This time when they both pulled away nobody whimpered with pain. Instead Jack whimpered with unhappiness at losing the kiss so quickly.
Smirking, Pitch asked, "Am I to assume love is in the air for you as well, my frozen little prince?"
Pouting, Jack spat, "Shut up."
"Only if you do first."
Was that what Pitch had said? Was that how they ended up tangled in each other, kissing furiously with decidedly less clothing on? An odd start…
Jack gave a loud moan as Pitch ground his hips into his. Too bad it was muffled by a skilled tongue in his mouth. The heat built so quickly in his member. Pitch growled as he ground it down into Jack once again.
The moaning winter spirit's eyes fluttered open as Pitch slid his crotch against Jack's as hard as he could. Pitch saw the blue orbs rolling back. He could feel Jack's need through their pants.
But this wasn't enough. Pitch needed to truly have Jack.
Pulling away from Jack, leaving him looking very unhappy, Pitch proceeded to lower his head to the hem of Jack's pants. He took it into his teeth and slowly, sensually began dragging the article of clothing down those skinny legs he loved so very much.
Jack gasped and tried to cover his erection, suddenly ashamed of the pleasure he'd been feeling. Pitch simply pushed his hands away and tossed his pants to the side.
"Don't hide from me," he whispered down to him, "I want to see you…"
"You saw me for three hundred years," Jack mumbled, pouting.
Chuckling, Pitch slid Jack's hands up to either side of his head, "This is different."
"Because I'm naked…" Jack said, frowning, "Well, then why aren't you so I can see you the same way you're seeing me?"
Pitch laughed. "I didn't know you wanted to." But, he obliged Jack's request and dropped his own pants. Jack's cheeks frosted over to the point of being white as he gawked at Pitch.
Pitch warmed Jack up for him. He licked his fingers and carefully pushed one into him. Jack inhaled sharply at the intrusion, but immediately gave a soft moan in response. "Your finger's warm," he said before moaning again as that warm appendage wiggled deeper into him.
Pitch had to resist just fucking his brains out as he felt deeper into that icy wet cavity. It was fantastically cold. "Oh, Jack…" He pushed against the slippery walls, sighing as he imagined the tight muscles clenching around his dick instead of his finger.
Jack was chewing his lower lip as Pitch fingered him. It felt weird, but good. He was touching inside him. "Mm-mm-mmmmmm…" He stopped chewing his lip to tell Pitch that he was doing really, really good.
And screamed. "HOLY FUCK!" his entire body jumped off the ground he laid on as the pad of Pitch's finger pushed into something amazing. His body was enveloped in a burning heat that felt so good it hurt.
"Pitch!" he shouted, thrashing his head and kicking his legs as the finger stroked against the pleasure point. "Pitch please!" He didn't even know what he wanted, but God, did he.
Jack let out a shuddering exhale as the finger slid out. He felt… Empty… He didn't like it. "Piiiitch," he whined. The grey spirit only smiled and pushed two fingers back in, making poor Jack nearly yelp in surprise. This time it sort of hurt.
The boy was whining as it stretched him. Kissing his lips sweetly, Pitch asked, "How did this happen, Jack?"
Chewing his lip, Jack whimpered, "Whaddyou mean…?"
"Why did you suddenly agree to doing this with me?"
Jack looked away, cheeks red. "You're seriously asking me this now?" he asked, "Right as we're about to have sex you ask why I agreed to do it."
Pitch smirked. "It seemed like an important thing to know."
"You officially killed the mood," Jack growled unhappily, sitting up on is hands. "But if you really need to know, I've kind of liked you for a while now. Only kind of," he said, seeing the look on Pitch's face at that, "When we first met I thought you were kind of strange looking, but it worked for you. Then during the whole Guardian fiasco I kinda thought you were pretty handsome when you weren't being a total douchebag. And after that… I just… Kinda saw you in a better light…"
"A better light," Pitch repeated, face blank.
Cheeks frosting over, Jack grumbled, "And maybe I had a couple not-so innocent dreams about you, too."
Now Pitch was grinning.
Immediately he shoved forward and began rubbing his hands all over Jack's body. It was a sensory overload for the teen, who instantly squeaked at the attack. And when Pitch pushed one of his fingers back into him, Jack seemed to have completely forgotten he had done it before. He yelped with sensation and moaned.
As Pitch's finger rubbed the wet muscles of Jack's insides, he reached his other hand down to teasingly stroke Jack's cock. He chuckled in spite of himself when he shuddered. He could see Jack's breath. For some reason that was really kinky.
Kissing the frozen lips, he gripped Jack's length in hand, making him jolt, and began pumping furiously. Jack moaned into his lips and wiggled helplessly as Pitch's hand warmed him. He soon starts panting as Pitch's hand goes faster, and faster, and faster.
Chuckling, making his skin shiver, Pitch whispers, "Do you want me to slow down? You sound winded…" Jack glared daggers at him and bucked his hips up, shoving himself further into Pitch's grasp. (Unintentionally making himself gasp at the friction.)
Soon enough Pitch had two fingers inside Jack again, stroking at that spot that made Jack's vision go white and his body light up like a flame. "Pitch!" he shrieked breathlessly, "More than that!"
"Are you asking me to put something else inside you?"
"F-fuck!" Jack's back jolted into an arch at a particularly hard shove of Pitch's finger. "Nnnm…"
Pitch removed his fingers from Jack and carefully lined himself up with Jack's hole. Jack hadn't even noticed when he coated his dick in lube. He noticed now, though, as Pitch slowly pushed it into his body. If it were dry he'd be absolutely screaming in agony.
Jack, instead of screaming, moaned. Pitch was pumping his length again. "Aa-ahnh.." He closed his eyes as Pitch forced pleasure and pain to mix. Jack liked the way it felt to have warm fingers squeezing around his member. "Hannh…" Pitch pushed in a little more, pumping harder. Soon all Jack really registered was the burning hand stroking him at a pace that made him dizzy.
He didn't even remember that Pitch was- Jack shrieked. "HOLY FUCK!"
"Pitch, what the FUCK did you just DO!?" he wailed, writhing and flipping onto his side. He felt like moving would make the burning, melting, endless ecstasy stop. But no, it made it worse. He moaned loudly as the heat twisted in his stomach. So hot… "Oonnhh…"
Pitch shoved his hips forward again. He got the same reaction- Jack screamed. Maybe he was being too rough?
Slowly Pitch rocked his hips back and forth, building up a rhythm. Now Jack was moaning. He gasped and mewled as a rock hard heat inside him slid back and forth over that spot that made him feel he needed to touch every part of his body to stop feeling so good.
"Ah, annh, anhh," he moaned over and over again as Pitch pushed and pulled and went in and out and, "Oowaaa."
Jack couldn't stop his eyes from rolling back into his head. He felt breathless, but at the same time he kept exhaling those sounds that made Pitch shiver with want.
Continuing to fuck him, Pitch hissed, "You sound exactly as I dreamt you would."
Jack moaned in the middle of the sentence, so he probably didn't hear him, but that didn't matter. Jack's freezing walls were clenching around him. "Ohhh, Jack…"
He sped up, hitting and hitting the sweet spot inside Jack over and over again. Jack had given up on keeping is eyes open and settled on clenching them shut as his fingernails clawed Pitch's shoulders and his breathing came out in ragged pants and needy moans.
Pitch was slamming into him now. Jack could hear how loud the sounds of their skin slapping together was. It actually made the intense pleasure in him build. Hearing what they sounded like… Pitch was moaning, too. Jack moaned at the noise. Low, seductive, and- He gasped, eyes flying wide open as it felt like the pleasure ripped open and flooded him with bliss.
Pitch hoped Jack's ear-piercing scream was only because he was in the midst of an orgasm. Pulling his upper half completely against him, Pitch rutted into him as fast and as hard as he could until he finally felt his seed spill out and into Jack.
The boy gasped at feeling even more heat. He felt dizzy. Weak. Shivering, he tried to cling to Pitch, but only managed to melt like putty into his arms. Pitch held him there, smiling.
"W-when I wake up," Jack said between desperate intakes for air, "This had better not have been a dream."
Pitch only chuckled and kissed Jack's neck.