"Oh do not look at me like that Daniella." drawled my nightmare. The dark man leant into the wall merging with the hidden shadows that lay there. Even casually slouched as he was he still loomed above me. Looming with a skilled arrogance I could never achieve, no matter how sophisticated or educated I tried to become. I stared at him and fidgeted with my bed sheets.
"Pitch just don't. Not tonight. I...I can't take anymore." I ducked my head on the last word in shame. This torment had nearly broken me. I felt weak and frustrated. My annoyance stemmed from the fear washing over me in waves. This room, my room, had never seemed so terrifying in the 17 years it had belonged to me. Its narrow walls encroached, compressing the bed, desk, and bookshelves too close together. Everything piled up, beady eyes watched me from the once comforting posters that littered the walls, a few discarded tops created monstrous lumps on the chocolate carpet, a gentle breeze tugged at the loose duvet sheet that hung over the bed, or was something horrible climbing out of the depths there? It was too much. I couldn't breathe. And he was enjoying it.
"Sweetness, we agreed. You signed in blood, don't back out on me now or I might get angry," a long pale finger hooked beneath my chin and gently brought my face back into the dim light of the window. I hadn't even heard him move.
"I just can't. Please Pitch, I promise I'll do it tomorrow. Not tonight, not now." His face was inches from mine, schooled in a small frown. My heart hammered at his closeness. Pepper, darkness and fear invaded my nostrils. I couldn't help but fill my lungs with the heady scent, the dreams I could deal with, but this sinful aroma was pure torture. It reminded me of the night terrors, specifically the end part. The part where Pitch, upon receiving enough fear to keep him satisfied, would stroll into the dream and make the monsters go away. The part where he would smile crookedly at me and take me in his arms. The part where I would lose myself. He crouched beside the bed with a sly grin plastered across his pale face. Damn stupid bastard.
"I thought you liked me." his grin grew devilish and he leant closer. What in the name of God do I say to that? 'No Pitch, I think your an arrogant prat who needs to learn how to treat a girl, piss off' and risk never seeing my demon again? That's what he was. A demon. I knew he fed off all the bad things in the world, just because he could. That he curdled the sweet dreams of innocent children to find fulfilment. And worst of all, delighted in terrifying all he knew. I was beyond caring though, too many nights with the fateful dream embrace and I already longed for him. I wasn't stupid, nor did I want to lose him.
"O..of course I like you. You're my friend." By the way his expression changed I knew the words had been wrong. He pounced on me and pinned my small frame to the bed. His cold hands wrapped around my wrists tightly and secured them above my head, forcing me to lie back on the soft pillows. He followed me down. The fear I had momentarily forgotten curled in my stomach, at this close range he could terrorize me with a night terror of colossal proportions. I wasn't prepared, I couldn't think. Usually he would let me steel myself for the night ahead but his pepper scent overwhelmed my senses. All around me was Pitch, I couldn't find my room, or feel my bed beneath me. It was only Pitch and his delicious lips hovering centimetres above mine, his deep eyes burning through me. My body was on fire yet his gaze paralysed me, leaving me charring in the flames. I was caught in smouldering pools of Amber, lost entirely to him.
"Friend? Do friends usually plague one another's dreams?" His mouth ghosted over mine, head finding solace in the crook of my neck where he planted a single lingering kiss. I let out a breathy moan and frantically arched my back. His hold remained firm, not allowing a shred of air to come between us, to my dismay my body remained strained against the bed. I was so sure we could be closer, I wanted him closer. My brain was muddled, coherent thought became difficult as his tongue lazily drew circles in the hollow of my throat. His oppressive darkness enshrouded me and I willingly accepted it, everything that was Pitch I wanted.
A hazy thought ambled through my mind. "You dream of me?" My voice was husky and deep, it cracked at the end and I fought to push his head up into my line of sight. I needed to see him. His eyes would hint as to his mood, any words from his mouth were most likely lies. He stopped his ministrations and lifted his beautiful face to mine. His usual pallor was flushed, the only clue as to the effects this conversation had taken on him.
"Princess, who wouldn't?" He growled into my cheek and nipped at my chin, leaving tiny bite marks along my jaw. They throbbed gently, the pain more pleasurable than any kiss his lips could leave there. My toes curled and I whimpered. Oh god. This was heaven. I could feel the cold fear that twisted in my stomach, not of monsters or night terrors, but that he would leave and I would be left empty. I needed him, I wanted him, I was his.
"Pitch." I murmured his name without thought, at that his grip on my wrists tightened. He had never done this before, he'd teased me but never had I thought his intentions would be so sinful. He kissed his way across my face, tasting the skin and leaving more throbbing pink marks. Too slow. I turned my head and caught his lips. His whole body froze, going taut above me. I paid no heed to his restraining arms and stretched up to him, my tongue demanding entrance, desperately trying to dip past his lips.
It was like kissing a stone sculpture. Everything frozen and cold, bar the killer scent overwhelming me. He tasted of bitter chocolate and a tinge of pepper, the delicious concoction was over laced with fear. Oh yes, my beautiful Boogeyman could feel fear. I was not afraid, my hormonal teenage brain struggled to cope with more than one emotion at any one time. Lust overpowered most others, even fear, so it had to be him. Why he was scared at this precise moment I didn't know, but all I wanted was to soothe away the nasty emotion.
Slowly he became reanimated, parting his lips with a shaky breath. I dove into his mouth and carefully explored every crevice. For the most part he was passive and allowed my velvet tongue to caress his, but whilst he had been distracted his death lock on my wrist had loosened and I managed to slide one wrist free. It immediately locked in his silky black hair, yanking him flush against my chest. He gasped into my mouth and released my other arm, instead scrunching his hands into my messy bed sheets. It was glorious.
My newly free hand slid under his robe and clutched at his chest, a dark top hid his bare skin from me. How bloody irritating. My hand trailed down his side and slipped under the tight fabric. He shivered into me at the contact. Not yet satisfied I moulded myself as close to his as possible. He weighed more than I would have thought- it made him so tangible, so real. My real life nightmare. The sensation thrilled me.
But it wasn't enough.
I wriggled my legs out from beneath his, wrapping them around his waist. Pitch's hips bucked a little and he closed his eyes. My flimsy nightie did very little to maintain my dignity, it rode provocatively up my thighs, bunching at the middle.
I deepened our kiss and Pitch groaned into my mouth. His tongue flicked back and forth, dancing elaborately. I swooned with the passion of our heated embrace. He seemed to regain some form of control and began a fierce battle for dominance within the kiss. I could never win an argument against him. Not once. Pitch liked to play dirty, this time was no different. His black nightmare sand slipped around my throat and tightened painfully. One of his hands tangled into my straight brown hair and fisted at the roots. Soon the already strenuous battle for air became too tiring.
He continued his heated attack, my limbs weakened for lack of oxygen. I tried to push him off, to tell him to loosen the hold, but the minute my arms surfaced from beneath his top Pitch snarled. Another tendril of black sand snaked around my arm and shackled me to the bed. The dirty grit sank into my skin, he didn't care for me, he was simply using me for his own ends. I was an ugly girl-who would want to kiss that. I stopped pulling him closer and tried scraping the sand off with my other hand, knowing it to be the source of the new humiliations.
The shadows engulfed my arm and forcefully thrust it to other side of the bed, a punishing snap ricocheted through the room and red hot fire shot through my arm. I screamed into the Nightmare King's mouth and kicked him off me.
I heard a thump as he hit the floor, silence filled the room but for my cries. Why would he do this to me? I'd never experienced a pain like this before, never. It felt as though my arm had been sliced open and set alight. I looked at it through watery eyes. Red.
He'd hurt me.
A cruel chuckle sounded from the shadows. I frantically turned my head to find him but the sound seemed to come from all around. The sand slunk down my body, tickling and burning as it went. I writhed in pain and screamed. It made no difference, the chuckle merely grew louder and the nightmares stronger. Soon I was cocooned and forced it to lie still. I was trapped.
"Oh Daniella, did you really believe I wanted you?" The sand covered my mouth and twisted my head to the right. He stood towering over me smirking. The shadows in the room seemed to shrink away from him, the light cowered in the corner. Beware the Nightmare King bellowed his aura. Fear me little girl. Fear everything that you believed to be me. I am so much more. FEAR ME!
I was terrified.
He drew out a long blade from his robes and played with it loftily. A chill crept down my spine as the nightmares helpfully supplied images of the many things that Pitch could do to me with it. The blade was long and curved, the silver teeth grinned at me lined with a black metal rim. The handle had been ornately carved with ancient symbols, to me it looked like the language of fear itself. Each tooth had been sharpened to a razor point.
"No one will miss you dear. No one even likes you." He laughed. "You were so desperate that you befriended the king of the Nightmares. It's pathetic." My eyes welled and I began to cry. He stooped low, dangling the dagger in front of me. A soft hand stroked my face.
"Oh darling, did I upset you?" His beautiful amber eyes grew deathly cold. I couldn't miss the hatred blatantly shown in them. He scraped his nails along my cheek, leaving ruby droplets in their wake.
"Good." He plunged the blade into my stomach, the shadows frantically weaved out of the way. Agony ripped through my body and I screamed into the restraints. Blood sprayed along the wall as he twisted the knife viciously with both hands. I couldn't breathe. Pain was everywhere. Pain and Pitch. I convulsed, screaming hoarsely and the bonds tightened even further. The pain was all consuming but I couldn't move, I couldn't even breathe. The black sand held me so tightly that I couldn't flex a single muscle.
Pitch's voice sounded clearly through the fire.
"You disgust me."
I woke up in my bed panting, drenched in sweat and alone. My hand slid to my stomach. No stab marks, no blood. I threw the covers off the bed and flew across to my desk, scrambling for the glass of water that sat there. I tried to stop the cries that came out of my mouth, water splashed onto my nightie as my hand shook.
Just a nightmare.
Only a nightmare.
Pitch Black, the Boogeyman, King of Nightmares. He isn't real. He's just a bad dream. I hiccupped and placed the glass back on the desk, switching on a lamp.
Oh god.
My wrists were purple and blue. Black sand was stuck to the sweat on my skin. It meant that...it meant that he had to be... I sank to the floor and cried.
Pitch Black was the Boogeyman, King of Nightmares and he was real.
Hello kind reader who clicked on my story. I didn't want to get in the way at the beginning so here is the longish author note. I saw Rise of the Guardians when it first came out and since then have watched it three times. I am obsessed. This was originally going to be a Jack Frost story and I hope it still will be, but Pitch just kind of jumped in like-BOOM WRITE ME!
Apologies for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Feel free to alert me, anything to make it read better. (Also is that the correct spelling of Boogeyman?)
Drop a review my lovelies!
Blackvelvet97
xx