Chapter Summary:
Shall we wipe away our tears?
Shall we hide from all our fears?
You're the one who sees me cry
In the very middle of the night
Love, you are the only one who hears
Let us hide away, hide away
Let's hide from our yesterday
Foreign kisses are gone
Replaced by those from your lips, drawn
Love is mutual, that 'twill stay
- "Middle of the Night"
Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.
-Oscar Wilde
Pitch looked around his lair, watching the Night Mares come and go as he commanded. Their sand glittered in the small amount of light that came in from the sky. They were growing stronger as Caution began to take root in the world. The gentle fears were keeping children safe and the Guardians were grateful for it. He smiled at the thought.
To think that Jack Frost started it all.
He heard the wind and turned to see a flurry of blue and white speed over to him. Jack buried himself against Pitch's form, holding onto the taller man and tightening his grip as though he would disappear. Pitch could hear his name spill from Jack's lips and a fear was radiating from him. It was intense, almost like-
"Jack, what's happened?" Blue eyes gazed up at him and I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean it I didn't know I thought- "Your fears are showing."
Jack's eyes widened, as though surprised that Pitch could read his fears so simply. That wasn't the case, no. Jack was frightened of Pitch finding something out. The frost spirit dropped his head, resigned to the idea that Pitch could see everything that he was afraid of, that was going through his mind.
"I... The party at North's, there was eggnog and stuff. We were dancing and I got caught up in old memories."
"Memories, Jack? Like your nightmare?" Pitch asked, stroking his lover's hair. He wanted no event to occur that was akin to the night that Jack had that horrible dream, where he was told that he shouldn't have been born again.
"My mother and sister," Jack responded, shaking his head. "A-And I got dizzy and fainted, I guess. When I woke up, I thought I was with you."
Pitch frowned a bit at that.
"I've been here the whole time, Jack." Jack nodded and bit the inside of his lower lip.
"It wasn't you, and I thought I was kissing you." The confession came out as a whisper, and it hurt. The pain was evident in Jack's voice and the terror that was rising inside of the small spirit...
How could a soul so vibrant and young produce such a terror that it made thunder and lightning seem like cooling baths for relaxing rather than dangers of the natural world? It was burning in his lungs and making it so very hard to draw in a simple breath; his chest was aching as though a suit of lead were crushing it. It was a terror almost bottomless with the bottom a pool of an unfinishing, corrosive substance. Jack was still afraid of drowning... And the only other person that knew of his fear, of his past, was-
"The faerie?"
Jack looked up at Pitch and his eyes were not only terror-filled. Pitch felt a deep pain in his heart. Tears were escaping his eyes, rivulets coursing their way down his cheeks. His cheeks were flushed and looking somewhat more plump than before from the force of his crying.
Jack's eyes looked for forgiveness, for love, for anything that said that Pitch still loved him.
"I didn't mean to... Tooth thought that-" The frost spirit was hushed with a finger to his lips. Jack watched as Pitch's eyes changed from compassionate to anger-filled.
"You made a mistake, one you regret, though I don't believe that young Queen feels so if she took a kiss from you while intoxicated."
"Pitch, don't hurt her," he pleaded softly. Tooth was his friend, and even if she had more passionate feelings for him, she had wished him well in his relationship. She hadn't been cruel or forceful. Jack didn't want to see her hurt.
Pitch gazed down at him, anger seemingly melting away before being taken over by a carnal longing.
"I won't hurt her, Jack," were the words he whispered over the shell of Jack's ear, Pitch enjoying the shivers that his warm breath elicited. He settled his hands on Jack's hips, pulling him close, and drew circles through the sweater's fabric and the deerhide trousers, watching Jack relax more against him. "Just let me keep you here with me, for as long as I am able."
As Jack smiled up at him, Pitch remembered his daughter's face when she planted flowers for the first time. She'd been so happy, covered in damp earth and dust, and it was all that he needed.
Jack's smile filled him with a different love, one he thought he would never feel so strongly after... It still left his heart aching.
Jack's smile was the last coherently formed memory before Pitch came forward, devouring his lips.
Pitch would always be envious of the Winter. It would call to Jack, and the frost spirit would try to ignore the call for as long as he was able. Pitch would bid him to leave, and Jack would give a noise of jubilation, kiss Pitch sweetly, and fly on the Wind. The Wind would take Jack away then, to spread his Winter-born magic, all for Winter's sake. Every year this would occur, and Pitch would brood about his lair, envying that Winter would caress Jack's cheeks, brush through his hair, take all of him and use him to its delight; worse - Jack would enjoy it all, because it was fun to him.
When Pitch would keep Jack close, like now, he would hold the frost spirit close, loving how the younger male would reach up to thread his fingers in his dark hair. The fingers would feel cold and so refreshing against the heated skin of his scalp. He would lift Jack up, the other's lithe frame against his, as they moved to the bed. Clothes would be removed and hands would be grasping, clawing, groping for a good hold, not wanting to be separate for much longer if they were able to help it. Gone would be thoughts, save for those about each other.
Jack would shiver, his body growing warmer and shaking to keep out the heat. Frost would decorate the sheets a bit and Pitch would trace over the beautiful patterns that were as fragile as flower petals. Pale hands would clasp his upper arms and wine-coloured lips would form a pout. Pitch would chuckle and kiss it away, just a slight graze of his lips which Jack would try to deepen. Pitch would lift his head and give a kiss to Jack's neck, smiling at the moan that he'd receive.
The kisses and caresses would grow in number and travel lower. Love bites were given, bruising the snow-white skin and marking Jack. Jack would lean up at times and try to mark Pitch, succeeding more in frequency when Pitch was at his chest than when the Bogeyman was kissing his inner thighs, Jack's lips only able to reach Pitch's hand that was clasped tightly in his, fingers intertwined. Pitch would move to the side, where he would be able to bend down and help Jack in pressing his legs together. As Jack would bend his knees, feet resting on the bed, Pitch would bend down. As Pitch's tongue began to move against the head of his erection, Jack would moan loudly and try to focus on the hot wetness surrounding his cock, not the finger so deftly lubricated that began to enter him. He'd try to ask Pitch where the lubricant was, but Pitch would stay silent at that.
There would be whispers in the air when Jack would have his legs tight together, Pitch's finger spreading him patiently. Whispers of praise ("You're doing very well," and "you taste so good") were occasional and appreciated, Jack relaxing more quickly now. Another finger would be added, small hushes and gasps echoing off of the walls of the cave. Then another and Jack would be trying to keep himself from cumming from stimulation to his cock and entrance both.
He'd be on the edge when Pitch would move again, lubricate himself with the substance that kept disappearing, and position himself. Jack would reach up to Pitch and hold him as Pitch would push inside of him and there would be a pause, a slow build, a rush, a desperate plea...
It would be granted, for both of them.
Yes, this is how it would be.
Jack laid curled against PItch, relaxing on the bed. His hood was pulled up and his eyes were starting to slide closed.
"Sleep, Jack," Pitch whispered. "I'll keep the Nightmares away." Jack laughed in response.
"I love hearing you say that. It shows how much you love me."
Pitch paused and then smiled.
"You confessing that shows how much you love me, so we're even," he teased lightly. He didn't protest when Jack gave him another kiss and then laid on the bed, his eyes closed and breathing even.
Devany: Hi, guys. I just wanted to thank those who are reading the series "Lark and Nightingale" and I would just like to ask for reviews. I really would appreciate any feedback and criticism (positive and negative). It would really help me grow as a writer and it could help with the 7th part of the series onward.
Thank you again!
