WARNING: This chapter will be very short. :D And what else did I want to say? There was something else...oh yeah! Um, there MIGHT be a bit of noncon in this chapter. a.k.a.: RAPE.

._. I'm sorry.

But anyway, this is my first sex scene/rape, so please don't hate me.

I own nothing.

Jack awoke the sound of his cell door being swung open. "You know, Jack, you gave me the most marvelous idea yesterday," Pitch announced as he strode inside.

He yawned and propped himself up. His whole body felt numb, and the parts he could feel, sore and bruised, though he knew it was much worse than that. Jack wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that his wounds were numb. Maybe afterwards, if he had escaped and had things to heal himself with, but now, he was just grateful.

"And what would that be?" he groaned, rubbing one eye sleepily with one hand, trying to use the spot that wasn't covered with scabs.

Pitch's hand shot out and closed around his throat and slammed him against the ground, something he was all-too used to. He winced at the pain of the fingers pressing hard against the bruises and the throbbing his head, and waited for Pitch to pin him up against the wall, but it never came. That could only mean that he was preparing for something else.

"That little…outburst you had," Pitch whispered as he slithered over Jack's frail body.

"Which one?" he grunted. "The one about when you should kill yourself?" Even though Jack's spirit was battered, his pride refused to let him seem broken.

He waited for Pitch to slap him or choke him, but once again, he did neither. Jack sensed something different the boogeyman's air. There was almost a...a darkness surrounding him. Or, at least, darker than usual. No, it was a different type of darkness, he thought. It's almost...sinfully dark. As he puzzled about it, he felt the chains holding his arms and legs being pulled, so that he had to give up his form of lying on his side in a ball for being on his back, put in a spread-eagle position under Pitch. He squirmed underneath him, but he didn't really try to move. It was useless anyway.

Pitch smirked. "I believe it was the one about me yelling to a fireplace about my lust for you," he breathed in his ear. Jack flinched, his breath hot against his skin. "And it made me realize something," he continued as his free hand laid itself on Jack's stomach, which recoiled at the touch.

His blue eyes widened. "Please," he croaked, realizing what Pitch planned to do. "No."

"Yes," Pitch hissed, his hand slipping down into Jack's pants. His fingers fondled Jack's sensitive area, making him cry out, more in pain than anything. He was not gentle at all, squeezing on his manhood and digging his sharp fingernails into his balls. It hurt. Not to mention was strange and alien-like, filling him with a sort of horror that he hadn't really experienced before. Not to mention he was cold. He tried to twist his hips out of his grip, but Pitch pinned him down with his elbow. "I've been wanting to do this for a long time, Jack…," he sighed, sliding his hand out of his pants.

"No please stop!" Jack cried, bucking his hips and trying to fight his way out of his grip, but it was useless.

He chuckled. "Oh Jack, when will you find out that I feed off of your terror?" he cooed as he drew his pinky finger along his face. It sent chills up and down his face, and Jack supressed a shiver. He didn't want him to see him trembling in terror; he already had the satisfaction of hearing him plead like a baby.

Plead like a baby...

What would Emma think if she saw him like this? Being touched against his will, strapped down? Fight him, Jack! she would cry. Fight him!

Jack's heart thumped loudly in his chest, almost bursting out. "LET ME GO!" he shouted, a burst of energy pulsing through him.

Pitch raised an eyebrow. "I thought we had already dealt with that attitude, Jack," he sighed, drawing his fist back before driving it into him. Jack doubled over, wheezing as Pitch continued to touch Jack's broken body with delight. They danced around the deep cuts and pressed against his bruises almost in fascination, like a child with a new toy. Jack screamed as he dug one finger into the huge gash on his chest that he had received on his first day. The pain seared through his body, sending white-hot fire up and down his spine. Pitch removed his finger and held it up to his face, studying it, before popping it into his mouth and sucking on it like it was a Popsicle. Then he resumed his touching of his body.

"Shame, I should have done this first," he said as his fingers lingered on one of the bruises on his chest. "Your skin is so soft and pretty." He bent his head down and gently pressed his lips on it. Jack whimpered. Man in Moon, please help me, he though desperately. Please make him stop. Make him do stop. Make him do anything. Anything but this. But nothing happened. Only the sharp sting in his side as Pitch pinched around the skin of one of his slashes.

"Please, stop," he begged as the boogeyman continued to trail cruel imitations of kisses along his chest and arms.

"No can do, Jack," he breathed in delight as he stood up. In one fluid motion he had his robe in a pile on the ground next to him. "Don't be afraid," he whispered as he pulled down Jack's pants and prepared to enter him. Jack closed his eyes and prayed that it would be over soon. "Be terrified."

Those were the last word he said before he entered him.

Pain.

No, it wasn't pain. It wasn't enough.

Agony?

No, no, that wasn't it either.

Then what was it that made Jack let out a blood-curdling cry that shook the dungeon room and arch his back so much to the point that it might break and plead for it to end? To make him cry and sob, getting his tears everywhere as Pitch cut of the ribbons of skin that still remained on his body? That made his toes curl and Pitch whoop in delight as he pressed himself into the boy whose body was frail enough? That final push as he released himself into Jack?

Of course, Pitch hadn't stopped there. He pulled himself out of Jack and looked down at the frail boy, who was panting and wincing. "You're pathetic," he spat. When Jack didn't reply, he snarled and grabbed Jack by the hair and lifted him clean off the floor. He screeched as he felt the sharp prickles of pain in his scalp as his hair was almost torn out. Pitch slammed Jack against the wall face-first as he curled his free hand around Jack's wrists and pinned them above his head. "You're worthless," he hissed as he pressed his length against his hole.

Jack cried out, trying to speak through the tear streaks down his face and the pain everywhere. "What, would the little boy like to speak?" Pitch snarled, forcing his head to look at him. He yanked his head up so that he could stare down into his red tear-streaked eyes. "You worthless, useless piece of shit," he sneered, then slammed his head against the wall again.

The same stars that had blinking before his eyes for days finally bled into his real-life vision. They blinked everywhere, flickering, just like in the night sky. He tried to focus on them, trying to ignore the aching pain all over. Man in Moon, please, he pleaded in his mind as Pitch pushed into him. "Fuck, how did you get that tight already?" he grunted, barely audible over Jack's screams. Please help...

But no help came.

Jack couldn't find the words. He couldn't even form the thoughts. He was too busy sweating, his throat sore from screaming, his body aching from the slashes that Pitch had found necessary to create while he was raping him, the burn in his rectum from the amount of force Pitch had entered himself with. Of course, the pain had lessened after he had begun to bleed, making his thrusts less painful.

But it didn't help with the fact that, all in all, Pitch had taken everything from him. Even something Jack thought that no one else could have. And even that was gone.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Pitch pulled out Jack and threw him to the ground. He didn't say anything; he just curled up into a ball, tear-streaks running silently down his face. "Like I said before," Pitch said as he picked up his bundle of clothing, "worthless." He fed the idea as he got dressed, watching the bloody and traumatized spirit on the ground.

"That was quite fun, Jack," Pitch chuckled as he buttoned up his robe, glancing at the boy. He laid on his side, closing his eyes, trying to shut the pain and horror out. He burned everywhere. The blood seeped on to the floor, pooling around him. He could feel it trickle from down his sides and even out of his backside. He didn't even try and wipe it up with his rags, like he done before now, to keep the blood from drying. "We should do this again some time."

He didn't answer, which was just the way Pitch wanted it.

Pitch leaned over and gently kissed his temple. He flinched at the touch. "Goodnight, Jack," he chuckled as he closed the cell door behind him.

Jack didn't say anything.

He laid there for what seemed like forever. He didn't know what to do. What could you do after being brutally raped and chained up like an animal? Unable to call for help or reverse what had just happened? Jack wasn't even sure he could ask for help if he got out now. How am I supposed to look up at the others in the eye, he thought, and tell them that I was raped? He already knew the answer to that, though.

He couldn't.

Suddenly, Jack heard a squeak. His eyes flicked up, and focused on a fairy that was hovering anxiously at the ceiling. "Baby Tooth," he rasped, some life sparking back into him as he raised his head just above the ground. He groaned at the sharp twinges in his side, and propped himself up on his elbow, which still hurt, but not as much. "What are you doing here? How did you get in here?"

She squeaked as she pointed at a small hole in the wall. "It leads out of here?" she nodded, then chirped something else, gesturing her little arms as she talked so that he could understand her "It's big enough for me to crawl through if I break the wall?" he asked, then shook his head before laying it back down. "I don't think I can."

The fairy shook her head and pulled at his fingers, trying to get him up. "No, Baby Tooth—" he tried to say, but it came out in a gasp. "Baby Tooth, stop." She continued to pull insistently at his fingers. "Baby Tooth, I can't!" he cried, snatching his fingers away and holding it close to his chest.

She frowned, then got a good look at him. A really good look. She couldn't see skin for all of the gashes and dried blood on him. His face was barely spared, save for the three lash marks across one of his cheeks and a few dagger marks. His clothes laid in ribbons around him, his blue hoodie now dark red. She ran her fingers along it, then jumped back in horror when she realized the dried crimson crust was blood.

"Baby Tooth, just get out of here," he whispered. "I don't want—" he was interrupted by a cough that wracked his whole body. Blood flew out of his mouth, landing in little drops on the cell floor. "I don't want you to be captured, too," he said finally when he had finished.

Her eyes filled with tears. "Go," he breathed. "And no matter what, don't tell the other Guardians what's happening. Pitch will-" another hard cough that resulted in more blood splatters. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then continued, "Pitch will hurt them. He might even kill them." He hesitated, then added, "And they won't understand. I don't want to be judged again for something that wasn't my fault like at Easter. They'll...they'll treat me like someone who can't...can't take care of themselves. That I'm weak. That I should have been able to protect myself."

Baby Tooth shook her head. It had been wrong of her to have kept his secret for so long; now he was laying the floor of a dirty dungeon bleeding to death. She had to get him out now."Baby Tooth, please," he begged She hesitated, then nodded and gave him a quick peck on the cheek that was untouched. He closed his eyes at the gentle gesture. Tooth had done the very same thing the night he was taken. What would she say if she found out? She won't, he thought firmly.

Baby Tooth gave him a little pat on the cheek, then flew out of the dungeon. Jack sighed, and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would bring him some comfort.