... This is smut. This is self-indulgent smut and absolutely nothing else. This story is not canon to the Pin and the Casket, but it's set in that universe because I have had an Unbound!Pinhead/Kirsty itch that desperately needs scratching.

Be kind, stay spooky, don't read this if you're under 18.

-Inky

"Walk with me," he'd said, and now Kirsty was holding his arm and following the Prince through a maze of crates and scrapped parts. The hem of his cassock dusted against concrete, and it mingled with her own clicking footsteps as the only real sounds filling the museum basement, save the clanking of metal against metal at his waist.

He hadn't spoken yet. Neither of them had, despite the swirling storm of questions that kept Kirsty from being able to to form a coherent thought. He was alive - how? Why? And how did he find her?

"A pleasant coincidence, Kirsty," came the answer, and oh she did not like when he read her mind, "nothing more. I promise I would never pursue you without your permission." The Prince turned to look at her, and was met with her disbelieving stare. "Yes?"

"Without my permission? How many times has the box found me again?" That actually got a sigh out of him, and it did surprise her that he sounded a touch remorseful.

"I do not control the Lament Configuration," he said, now looking ahead instead of at her. They had almost circled back to where they'd started, and she could see the mirrors along with the large wooden crate ahead. "It seeks its due - you opened the box once, Kirsty, opened the door. It does not appreciate your refusal to go through it." She prepared a retort, but he continued. "I would like for you to join us - I want for you to make that choice. But it is not so valuable without your choice."

"What do you want from me?" It was out before she could really decide if asking was a good idea. "Right now. Why are we just... walking?"

"Because your company is something I enjoy." He smiled at her, almost that playful smile she remembered when the Lament Configuration had shifted into its sleeker form in her hands so long ago, but it still felt a little pale in comparison. "You fascinate me, Kirsty. You always have."

"Thank you," she said, after a few seconds of searching for another response and finding there was none, "I think." They stopped at the crate she'd slept on before, and she sat on its edge as he released her arm.

"And what about you?" He was looking at her again, relaxed, bemused. "What do you want, Kirsty, that keeps you walking with me?"

She wasn't ready for that one. "I..." she started, and he took a step closer to her. An unbidden thought flickered behind her eyes - how soft his lips looked in the dim blue light. The Prince leaned close, surprisingly close. "I..."

"Yes, Kirsty?" he asked.

He was teasing her. She could see it in his eyes - those dark eyes that were no longer empty, now dancing with mirthful light as he leaned just a breath away from her lips. If he just had...

If he had a shirt I would grab it, she thought. But he didn't have a shirt - all he had were his leathers, and the small gaps in them on his chest that she could sink her fingers under in an instant. So she did - Kirsty gripped what she could and yanked forward so his lips crashed into hers. She closed her eyes, but in the same instant he let out a guttural groan against her mouth. She let go a second before realizing why, and looking down at the red on her hands confirmed that she had tugged on his open wounds, and she had tugged on them hard.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, barely able to look at him, afraid to see his face. "I didn't mean to hurt-"

Kirsty felt a cold hand on her jaw and her face was tilted up, her eyes meeting with his. His expression had shifted - his jaw was locked in concentration, but his eyes burned with hunger she didn't recognize. He didn't smile, but he wasn't squeezing her jaw. Kirsty started to apologize again when he pulled her into another kiss, his arm nearly clamping him against her.

"Again," the Prince whispered against her lips, and her arms found freedom from the hold on her waist at the moment she understood what he meant. She brushed her fingers over the leather, slowly at first, searching. She found what she was looking for, felt the wet warmth at her touch. She was technically still kissing him, and her heart was close to bursting in her ears, but curiosity and an eagerness that she should have been ashamed of pushed her forward. Kirsty sank her fingernails into his chest, and the Prince groaned again, holding her tighter and kissing her like she'd never been kissed before.

And she had never been kissed like this before. Kirsty opened her mouth for him, an invitation he gladly accepted; she let him push forward against her, leaning into her touch even as it tilted her backwards. His arm moved from her waist to her side, the gentle guidance onto her back stark against the hunger in his kiss. And then he broke that kiss, and they stared at each other as Kirsty realized just how tall he was over her, and just how close she'd let him get for him to be standing between her knees.

"Kirsty," the Prince breathed, and she was a little smug that he sounded a bit breathless like she was, "I can't."

Despite herself, despite everything, she felt a pang of disappointment in her chest. "What?"

"Permission," he said, collecting himself just enough between sentences to get them out. "I can't do anything - anything - without your permission." That hunger in his gaze was bestial, and she felt a thrill up her spine. "Tell me what you want, Kirsty, right now. It's yours."

Kirsty's mind reeled. A thousand images flashed through her mind; a thousand nightmares of being caught in the Labyrinth, tangling with agonizing, exquisite dreams. She tried to focus within them, to find her footing in the rush of anticipation that flooded her. She vaguely remembered the mirror, mere feet away, watching them now. She looked at him, standing over her, waiting for her answer. Kirsty thought for a moment more, then swallowed the last of her misgivings.

She sat up again - for a second she saw a glint of disappointment in his expression, but it changed when her scarf and jacket fell to the floor.

"Kiss me again," she said, surprised at the certainty in her voice. She wanted this, she really did, her usual repulsion discarded with her clothes. He leaned forward and claimed her lips again. She returned the kiss and somehow matched his hunger with her own, even as she tried to unbutton her blouse without fumbling. It fell behind her, forgotten, as she reached up to hold his neck and pull him just a little closer. One of her hands let go to take his, and Kirsty gasped a little as she pressed his cold palm to her side. The other hand joined in, slowly gliding upwards, moving to slip under her bra.

"Stop." He did - something about that sent her pulse racing. He really was going to follow anything she asked. "Not yet. Just... touch me." His fingers curled in, and they slowly moved back down before sliding around her, exploring her back, her hips, her neck.

He finally pulled his face away from hers. A few curls fell away from his pins, and when he opened his eyes Kirsty felt naked for the way he seemed to drink her in. She watched his gaze drop from hers to her lips, to her jaw, to her neck. He eyed her throat with a singular attention, and she tilted her head back.

"Kiss it."

His pins scraped at her skin; they left angry red marks as his lips pressed to her throat, his tongue brushing up against the patch closest to her pulse. His lips were cold, but his breath was warm; the contrast made her shudder and lean into his mouth even more, and the Prince obliged her silent request. He kissed another spot on her neck, then another, working his way down until a faint row of pink blotches and red lines was formed down to her collarbone. He nipped lightly at her skin and sucked on it ("please" she'd all but whispered as he did), and when the Prince let her go the red trail was punctuated by the faint formation of a red and purple mark.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his eyes and fingers gently trailing over his handiwork. Kirsty swallowed under his touch. "You are an exquisite canvas, Kirsty. What next?"

It took her a second to respond. Part of it was just catching her breath, the other was a thousand ideas tumbling in front of each other, absolutely none of them being to stop it here. Who would she have been fooling? Certainly not herself.

"I think..." she managed, looking up at him, "I want to take this off now." She pushed off one of her bra straps, letting it fall to her bruised and scratched shoulder. "And these." She pushed down slightly on her jeans, starting to work her hips out of them. "Help me?"

Help me seemed to have some effect on him, because his eyes lit up at them and immediately his fingers were unlatching her bra. It fell with her jacket as the Prince urged her onto her back, and her jeans soon joined them, along with her shoes. He was already going for her underwear next, but that little thrill came back to her just before she spoke.

"Stop," she said, and he froze. "Not yet." He obeyed, hands retreating from the thin piece of black cotton. She felt powerful - there was something indescribable in that little moment of power, of being able to say stop and her word being law. No arguing, no protests. She said stop, and he stopped.

The Prince looked at her with a patient expression, betrayed by the way his eyes swept over her body. He wanted her, she could feel it in the way his hands hovered over her skin. But he wouldn't do anything without her say so. It was exhilarating. Kirsty beckoned for him to lean forward, and he did, letting her take his hands and place them on her sides, back to the path they'd followed before.

"Slowly," she murmured, "I want to enjoy this." She kissed him again, and his hands obeyed her command. They kneaded her chest, cold thumbs gliding over her nipples and leaving them pert under his touch. He stepped closer, pushing between her knees. She let him. He pressed up to her, leather and skin against skin. He let go of one breast to hold her hip, pull it closer to him. Kirsty opened her mouth; he moved to fill it, breath cold but his kiss blissfully warm. Her knee slid up his side.

Kirsty was lost to this, too focused on how their skin intermingled to even realize just when the kiss had stopped. All she knew was that now he was looking at her again, he was pressed right up to the damp fabric between her legs, and she felt something hard and familiar beneath his leather. Her hand moved down; from his shoulder to his hand on her breast, to her side, to between her legs. She pushed the fabric aside, and the cold air on her wet skin made her shudder. He did nothing but watch, then looked back up to her eyes.

"Tell me what you want, Kirsty." She knew the answer he was asking for, and it was the one she had chosen anyway.

"You."

The next moments went by in a blur; it was as if she'd released him, undone whatever had held him back before. She was pushed onto her back and cushioned by her shirt, and he was kneeling between her legs with his eyes closed. He pressed a kiss to her wet folds, and Kirsty gasped at his tongue on her clit, but it was over in an instant as he rose back up. She was staring at the ceiling, trying to steady the stars in her eyes when he grabbed her hips and slid into her. Kirsty moaned and closed her eyes, surrendering herself to what came next.

He was overwhelming; his cold touch both on her and in her mingled with delicious friction as the Prince moved. Kirsty could barely hear him over her own writhing and moaning, her legs wrapping around his waist. In the midst of her gasps and moans of please, please don't stop, she could have sworn she heard her name. She did not hear his answers to her pleas, did not hear the confession he made as he drew close, as he made it just as she arched back and cried from her first climax. He didn't stop; the Prince kissed her again hungrily, then again, then again.

She kissed him as he finally fell over the edge of his pleasure, and she followed him, letting out one more gasp before she let herself fall back on the crate.

The world came back slowly as the afterglow ebbed away, but Kirsty found herself still clinging to his back as the prince stood before her, catching his breath. For a second they just stared at each other; she imagined, however briefly, that he might pull away and move on. Instead he lifted her by her sides and brought her up, and she felt his pins against her face as he tilted his head forward. It was the closest he'd ever get to resting his forehead against hers. Kirsty curled her arms around him, squeezing his shoulders, listening to him breathe.

And they held each other, two lovers in the dark.

I promise Chapter 10 is coming soon, I just had to get this one out of my system because it would not go away. I hope you enjoyed - I may add a part 2 to this, so stay tuned!