Shorter than last week's, but my usual is only 2,000 minimum, with 4,000 maximum.
Either way, please enjoy! As always, I'll glance over for errors later. :D
WARNING: DUBIOUS CONSENT IN THIS CHAPTER. VERY, VERY DUBIOUS, PRETTY MUCH NOT THERE. NOTHING VERY GRAPHIC, BUT I DID WARN FOR DARK THEMES.
We only confess our little faults to persuade people that we have no large ones.
― La Rochefoucauld, Maxims, 1678
Past:
"Jack, why don't you sleep with me tonight?"
In the one hundred and forty nine years they'd known each other, Pitch had never asked him that question before.
Jack looked across the table at him, bread roll half-way to his mouth. He set it down slowly, and bit the inside of his lip. "I…don't know. I kind of like sleeping alone."
"But it will be easier for me to absorb the fear from your nightmares if we're in the same bed," Pitch explained, completely logical. "I would be able to grow in strength, and who knows? With you so nearby, it might not be necessary for you to have as many nightmares."
Jack sucked in a breath. "Really? I wouldn't have to have bad dreams?"
"It's possible," Pitch allowed. "Not certain, but possible."
Jack was willing to take a chance on 'possible.' "Alright," he agreed.
Pitch smiled serenely. "You won't regret it."
It shouldn't have been possible to tell a lie so sweetly.
A week after they'd started sharing a bed, and by extension a room, Jack woke with Pitch at his back. The nightmare he'd been having had been light in comparison to others, and he almost felt peaceful. He blinked and turned his head. "Pitch?"
"Ssh," Pitch hushed. He wrapped his arm around Jack's waist. "I'm just absorbing the energy. It's nothing. Go back to sleep."
"Your arm…"
"Is there a problem?" Pitch asked sharply.
Jack stiffened, and haltingly said, "No."
"Then go back to sleep."
Jack obeyed. The moment he was asleep once more, Pitch placed a hand over Jack's eyes. "Sweet dreams, Jack," he murmured.
A month after they'd started sleeping together, Jack woke, and knew something was off. It wasn't the arm around his waist—he'd gotten used to that. It wasn't even the nightmare he'd been having beforehand, a particularly bad one that left him feeling dazed, disoriented, and so very exhausted.
It has hands, he realized. Hands where they shouldn't be. Jack's head lolled, his eyes half-lidded as he was rolled onto his back. Pitch hovered over him, running his fingers along Jack's body. He slipped under Jack's shirt, pushing it up to rake his nails over his skin. Jack groaned weakly.
"Pitch," he mumbled, trying vainly to bat his hands away. "No…"
Pitch ignored his weak attempts, and began kissing Jack's throat. A warmth that was good, but scary because he didn't know what it was, trickled into his abdomen, his hips, his groin. Jack squirmed a bit, and wondered if it was because of the high amount of sand he'd been dosed with the night before that left him feeling so groggy and slack.
Jack's leg twitched in what was meant to be a kick when Pitch slid Jack's pants down his legs, his fingers searching out and prying Jack open from a place Jack had never touched himself.
"Pi-itch," he slurred out a touch desperately. A seed of panic nestled in the corner of his mind. "Sto…no…"
Pitch ignored him, but was very soon done with his fingers. He took them out, and replaced them with something much larger, and much more painful.
Jack screamed, the sharp, shooting pain clearing away a bit of the exhausted fog. Tears poured from him in broken pieces. "No, it hurts," he sobbed, the first words he'd managed to say coherently. "Stop, Pitch, please." He pushed pathetically at Pitch's chest.
Pitch caught up his hands, and kissed his palms. "Ssh, it's alright. It's good." Then he reached down and grabbed Jack's flagging erection, stroking with deft fingers. "See? You like it."
Jack shook his head, vainly trying to pull his hips away from the intrusive pain, but if anything it made it worse. Pitch thrust firmly, and it made pain war with flagging pleasure in Jack's body.
When Jack came it was a mix of terrible pain and confused pleasure. Pitch was quick to follow, thrusting hard once, then a few times more, shallowly, before collapsing atop Jack. Pitch pet Jack's wet cheeks, wiping away the hot tears.
Jack was hardly aware when Pitch pulled out of him, something hot and burning leaking out of him. Pitch hugged him sweetly, and pressed a kiss to his hair.
"See?" Pitch smiled. "Good."
Jack shivered as he fell unconscious.
Between the pain of blood and semen thick on his thighs the next morning, Jack Frost only had the energy to feel anger. He cleaned himself up, fighting the quiver of his lips as he did so, and wobbled to the library. Every step felt like knives up his legs and in his lower back, but he somehow managed to find Pitch before reaching the point of collapse.
"Pitch!" Jack yelled, leaning on the couch across from his guardian for support.
"Jack." Pitch looked up from his book, and raised an eyebrow. "Should you be up so soon?"
"Why did you do that?" Jack accused. "I asked you to stop."
Annoyance lidded Pitch's eyes. "It felt good, didn't it?"
"Well," Jack remembered vague pleasure interspersed with the pain, and couldn't deny that when he'd climaxed it had felt good, "yes. But—"
"Then I don't see what the problem is," Pitch snapped. His words came out offended and rushed. "I made you feel good, didn't I? Don't you love me, Jack?"
"I," Jack started. Of course he cared for Pitch. Pitch was his friend, his protector and guardian. Pitch had always been there for him. But love didn't feel like the right word for that feeling, at least not in the way Pitch was obviously meaning it. The look on Pitch's face, though; the barely veiled anger and tenseness that felt like a threat, made Jack hesitant to admit that.
For the first time ever, Jack Frost was afraid of Pitch Black.
It was a mixture of that fear, and a desire to avoid Pitch's wrath and hopefully mend the argument, that made Jack say, "Of course I love you."
Pitch's ire faded in an instant, and he smiled calmly. "Then there's nothing wrong. Correct?"
"…yes."
"Good." Pitch returned to his book, ignoring Jack from that point.
Jack stood in silence, the only sound in the room being the crackle of the near fireplace and the soft rustle of turning pages. After a minute of this, he left. He went to his carving room, unwilling to return to his, their, bedroom, and sat in the middle of the floor. He picked up his knife and a block, and tried to work.
He had to stop when his eyes became too blurred by tears to see what he was doing, and couldn't quite pinpoint the reason why he was crying.
Six months after sex was introduced into their relationship, one hundred and fifty years since they'd met, Pitch announced that Jack was to be his Consort one evening while they ate dinner.
Jack halted with a bread roll halfway to his mouth, and looked over the table at him. He set it down slowly. "I see."
"It's best for both of us. It will be safer for you if they know how affiliated we are, and make my job easier," Pitch explained.
Jack nodded, and resumed eating. Strangely, the food tasted blander than it had before. Jack let the conversation shift, and vaguely wondered when a piece of him had started to feel so hollow.
Present:
Jack decided he was coming to enjoy rooms with windows. His newest room at Tooth Palace kept to that theme, with huge floor-to-ceiling windows that contained no glass, but instead were framed by gauzy material that was almost sheer in the light. The bed was round, and set into the floor itself. Jack thought it was relaxing to lounge on the bed, and stare at the stone murals on the high ceiling. He'd chosen to bury his staff among the multitude of pillows that crowded the bed.
He spent most days exploring the palace, looking at boxes of teeth and the smiling little faces that had lost them.
Toothiana was a very busy person, he discovered. But she always took time out to hunt him down from his hiding places around the palace and have tea. Their discussions during that time were only five to ten minutes long, and mostly just him listening while she spoke, but that was okay. He didn't mind it. Most days she talked about teeth, or what she did as the Tooth Fairy. Other days she told him about the Guardians, or asked him questions he wouldn't answer.
"North was a Cossack before Ombric took him on," she informed. "And his beard wasn't nearly so white, back then."
Jack glanced at her over the rim of his cup. "You mean, North wasn't always Santa?"
She blinked wide, expressive eyes at him curiously. "Of course not. We were all somebody before we were Guardians." She took a nonchalant sip of her tea as she asked, "Who were you before you were with Pitch?"
"I wasn't anyone," he answered. The look on her face showed she believed him to be avoiding the question, although Jack knew he'd answered honestly. He hadn't been anyone before he'd met Pitch.
Just a boy on a lake.
Silence reigned over their conversation after that, and remained until the last dregs of tea had been sipped, and Toothiana had to return to her work.
Jack had been followed since he'd arrived at Tooth Palace. There had been some little fairies that peeked on him for curiosity's sake, but they left quickly. This fairy, Jack suspected, was shirking her duties by following him around so much. He didn't think Toothiana would have assigned one of them to stalk him.
After passively allowing it for two weeks, he decided to confront the tiny being. He slipped around a corner, and rather than continue on, turned to face the way he came with a blank face. Moments later a small face poked around the edge, spotted him, and squeaked. Before she could leave, Jack called out to her.
"Wait!"
She halted her retreat, and one big, violet eye coming back around the corner to look at him. She twittered questioningly.
"Why are you following me?" he asked.
She showed herself fully now, and bobbed in the air while wringing her hands. She glanced at him, then down at the ground, and shrugged.
Jack tried to make sense of her gestures. "You were curious?"
She rocked her head side to side. Somewhat, then.
"What else is it?"
She appeared bashful, and pointed to his mouth.
"My teeth?"
She nodded, then shook her head. She smiled, and pointed at her own mouth.
Jack blinked, his lips slipping into a frown. "My smile?"
She nodded vigorously this time, and seemed saddened by the downward pull of his lips. She flew closer, reaching out as if to mold a smile from his lips herself. He jerked back before she could touch him.
She froze in shock. As she watched him, she was stunned to realize he was afraid. Afraid of a tiny thing like her!
"I'm sorry," Jack apologized, regret bruising his tone. "I…birds make me anxious." His eyes flicked to her wings, and away. "You remind me very much of a hummingbird."
She drew her hand back, face falling. Guilt stirred his chest, and he hesitantly offered, "But, if you don't move around much, I think, my shoulder..." He gestured with his chin. "If you're careful, I mean, you could try riding on it?"
The fairy made an exalted sound, and flew closer. When he tensed she calmed down, but it didn't dampen the excitement in her eyes. She perched feather-light, gripping the material of his hoodie with strong, tiny fingers.
Jack was tense for the first few moments, adjusting to the feeling of her being so close. (Of something so breakable being close to someone like him who was only good for ruining things.) When he'd calmed enough, he took to walking down the hall with his usual explorative intentions in mind. Eventually he asked, "What's your name?"
She shook her head, but shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.
Jack frowned. It seemed a bit sad to him that she didn't have a name, no matter how unimportant she claimed it was. Even someone like him had been given a name.
It was with that thought in mind that he said, "Well, I've never seen a fairy like you," he glanced at the mark under her eye, then pointedly looked into the distance. "So…can I name you?"
The fairy blinked wide eyes, scanning the side of his face as he very carefully avoided looking at her. Something warm softened her cheeks. She twittered, and nodded a yes.
Hearing her confirmation, he gave a tiny, closed lipped smile that disappeared as quick as it came. He began to look contemplative. "Well, you're all mini Toothiana's, right?" She nodded again. "Then how about…Baby Tooth?" Frost crept across his cheeks, and he lowered his eyes in self-reprimand. "Sorry. That's not very creative, is it? I don't have much experience with naming, or being creative."
Newly named Baby Tooth shook her head, and raised a hand as though to touch his cheek, but didn't follow through with the action. Her hand hovering in the air, she did her best to show that no, she loved it, and she really did.
Jack glanced at her from the corner of his eye, but kept his face turned to the ground. She could see his smile, and it was like thawing ice on a lake in early spring; thin, brittle, and ready to break at a moment's notice.
But it was there, and in that single moment that mattered more to Baby Tooth than anything. (Sometimes it surprised her that he even knew how to smile.)
"Thank you," he murmured.
Baby Tooth's heart hitched in her chest, but could do no more than squeeze his shoulder as tight as she could to convey her welcome.
Jack put off asking Toothiana if he could visit North's Workshop for another week. Though they had been nothing but kind to him, almost too kind, too understanding, in fact, he was still hesitant to make any requests. After all, what reason did they have to grant his wishes? But with gentle encouragement from Baby Tooth (who had taken to settling on his shoulder every moment she could, even during tea with Toothiana. The Tooth Fairy had scolded her little fairy for shirking her duties when she discovered this, but Baby Tooth stubbornly refused to leave Jack's side. There was something terribly painful about Jack Frost, Baby Tooth thought, and if staying with him meant getting in trouble after he left, that was alright. Making sure he didn't hide himself away, that he wasn't as lonely as his unsuitably blank winter eyes screamed at her that he was, it would be worth it.) he had finally asked.
"Visiting North?" she asked kindly, her smile pleased.
"Yes," Jack explained, "but there's someone else I promised I'd see."
Tooth didn't ask any more, and the next day North himself came to pick Jack up with one of his snow globes. North greeted him warmly, appearing to barely hold himself back from a hug he knew Jack wouldn't be comfortable with. He was surprised, he said, that Jack wanted to come visit so soon.
He was also surprised by the little fairy that stuck to Jack's shoulder like frost on a window, but that he did not say.
When they got to the Workshop they talked for a few minutes, North asking casual questions, and Jack giving one word answers, until Jack excused himself. When North asked who he was visiting, Jack's answer made his face light up like Christmas tree lights.
"A friend," he said slowly.
North watched him leave with warmth in his gaze.
Jack was hesitant to enter the wood working room with all the benches, but the smell of sawdust was familiar and comforting. With a strong nod from Baby Tooth, Jack stepped inside. As he expected, the other yeti were all on break. Also as expected, Phil was sitting at his workbench. He looked up as Jack entered.
A look of relief and pleased fondness ruffled the hair on his face, and Phil gestured Jack over.
"Hey Phil," Jack greeted. He waved a hand toward his left shoulder. "This is Baby Tooth."
Baby Tooth cooed happily, and waved. Phil waved back, and pat an empty spot on the bench beside him.
And Jack, feeling strangely light, took a seat.
1. I DID warn you.
2. *Fondly sighs about Baby Tooth.*
Next chapter is the one you all seem so eager for-Jack's first month with Bunny.
Oh Lord what have I gotten myself into.
