Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch or Dreamworks 'Rise of the Guardians' although I wish I did, I wouldn't let Pitch outta my sight. However, this version of Cupid is mine

Thank you all for your incredible patience. These past two weeks have been super hectic! I had the flu then my 10 month old had the flu and then I had mid-terms at pharm college and it was all so crazy! Ah! But your kind words in reviews and high interest in this story have kept me going and I cannot express my gratitude enough. Thank you so much.


It's May 1st ! (give or take a few hours) Woo! Thank you to everyone who decided to participate in my sorta lame contest. I got so many awesome suggestions and I wish I could use them all, but alas…I cannot . Here are the big winners!

First Place & Big Winner: Yugioh13

Runner Ups: Emma L & Kagihime-chan

Keep an eye on your inbox, I'll be messaging you tomorrow with your special story surprise Again, thank you all for participating. I love having your input and I might have another contest down the road.

Emma L: I know you don't have an official account but please pm me your email so I can send you your prize

Anywho, on with the story…you guys have waited long enough.


Chapter Six

Hidden in Plain Sight

"Would you destroy something perfect in order to make it beautiful?" – My Chemical Romance.


"Pitch…" Cupid softly strained into the air. She was in so much pain, so weak that saying his name alone caused her legs to give out beneath her.

Pitch Black flung himself across his underground kingdom to embrace the wounded guardian. He knew he shouldn't have let her go out, he didn't want her to leave this morning, but he also wanted to avoid fighting with her again at all costs. Incredibly protective instincts that he wasn't even aware he could feel took over as he managed to catch his winged angel as she collapsed towards the stone floor. There were no visible injuries. No cuts, no bleeding, no bruising but from what he could feel, her stamina was dangerously low, weakening her body to a near death level.

Cupid's breathing became slow and deep as her usually brilliant violet eyes changed to a dull, lifeless grey. Pitch had seconds, just mere seconds to save her and there was simply no time to be unrealistic and wonder what the hell had happened out there. He wasn't going to lose her. He wasn't going to let her out of his sight ever again. She couldn't die. She couldn't leave him. But he didn't know what to do, was she sick? Was she poisoned? What was he supposed to do? What this planned all along? For him to just have a beautiful taste of paradise and then have it be taken away just as fast as it had been birthed, for his lighthouse to crumple against the waves of his deep and dark ocean. How could he save her? How could this even happen? She was like him, she couldn't die. She wasn't supposed to die. He let his body gently fall to the ground as he pulled Cupid close to chest and wrapped his thin arms around her back. Rocking her slowly, it was then he realized how he had failed to notice the cold sweat on his brow and the spastic trembling of his hands.

Delicate, thin fingers reached up and brushed themselves to his face. He pressed his lips against them with an unstoppable fury.

"Pitch…?"

He wanted to be ecstatic to hear her beautiful smoothing voice but it had been reduced to a cracked, weak noise before silencing completely. Pitch pulled the tangled, blonde curls away out of her face as his thin, dark lips relocated themselves against her heart shaped ones. "Don't leave me…please."

"Pitch…"

"Cupid…don't go…please…don't go…I can't…lose you…I...l-"

"Pitch! Wake up, Darling!"

His piercing golden eyes shot open to meet breathtaking purples. She was hovering over him, alive, very much alive; those same delicate, thin fingers stroking his face with despite it being drenched in a cold sweat. He was embarrassed, ashamed really that his own nightmares could affect him like this. Reducing him to a weak, cowardly child, panting heavily with a breath born from the deepest of anxieties. His breathing hitched as his eyes focused on her porcelain face. Everything was perfect, her eyes, her plump pink lips, her rosy cheeks resting atop her brilliant, glowing skin. Pitch's entire center tensed as the images of her lifeless, broken body flashed through his mind. Images of what his fears portrayed her to be, dying in his arms, her last breath whispering his name as all the vibrant colors drained from her. His mares were playing tricks on him, his mind was seeing on thing, a horrific dream of his dying angel but his eyes were seeing another, her beaming smile reassuring him that she was full of life. His hands began shaking once more as they tightened their grip around her wrists, desperately searching for her pulse.

"You're okay, You're okay…relax…I'm here…shhh…I'm here…" she cooed, tucking his loose, wet hair behind his ear. "It's just a nightmare…" she bent down to gently kiss his cold lips, wrapping a jet black lock around her finger. Her lips were soft, the texture of rosebuds with the sweet taste of chocolate but most importantly, they were warm. Like a small flame. A glowing fire that surged through his blood and veins that made his heart want to burst through his chest. Intense relief was expressed across his face, she was here. He could feel it. She was alive.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes…" he finally managed to force out, albeit shaky.

"You were tossing and turning, you cried out my name, begged me not to go..." she softly spoke with an obvious concern in her tone. "What happened…?"

How could he tell her? Look her right in eyes and say that she had died in his arms, and admit how it completely destroyed him. How he was unable to prevent it, how he couldn't save her. What was the last word he was about to say, that he so desperately wanted to say. It had escaped his memory without a single trace but it left a heavy mark on his heart. It was something important, something he needed to tell to her. But it was gone...

"You have freckles?" he inquired with a surprised tone change that highlighted his British accent. He didn't deliberately intend to change the subject, but after knowing this woman, studying her for several thousand years, and even having sex with her, he somehow failed to notice the tiny pattern of darkened skin spots painted across her nose and it baffled him. She wouldn't dare change her appearance in front of him again, not after that first night, she would never do it again. How could he have gone so long without noticing them? They weren't ugly or disgracing towards her beauty in any way, in fact, they almost enhanced it. Making her appear much more human-like rather than a cursed immortal being like him.

"Um…yeah…" she was bewildered, not just from the complete one eighty topic change but that he noticed her tiny imperfections. Never having a man see her in her natural form while at the same time being intimate with him, she had completely forgotten that she even donned them. She was flattered, but remained concerned that he had shifted the conversation and now, more than likely, wouldn't return to it, leaving her to either be angry at him by pushing it further or just backing down entirely, accepting that he wasn't going to talk about it. And she didn't want to fight with him.

Cupid inhaled deeply and softly kissed his neck, her hair draping over his face like a blanket.

"You should get some rest." she murmured as her tongue danced across the beads of sweat. She could hear him gasp when she slowly grinded her hips into his pelvis.

"How do you expect me to...oh…sleep…when you do such…things…?" Pitch moaned, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her hair as his hands made their way up her back. He felt his shaft instantly harden at the pressure of her body against his. They were still wearing clothes and that greatly displeased him. He wanted her, he needed her right now. "Ride…me…please. I want you so bad, Cupid…" He begged with a gentle whisper.

Releasing a small chuckle, Cupid curled her lips into his neck as she whispered into his ear, "How bad?"

"So...bad…" he panted, feeling her hands remove his pants for his legs. She was wet, practically soaking through her white panties for him. He could feel her moist warmth against his throbbing shaft. There was no point in denying it, the Boogieman knew and the Guardian of Romance knew they were becoming so much more than just one or two night stand. There were feelings being birthed, intense feelings to an unknown degree that both of them were beginning to feel for another. She was so different. Even in his prime…his highest peak of power, he was never with the same woman more than twice and never ever with an immortal being…until her. Queens of fire and stone eventually passed away and new queens of metal and glass took their place. And yet, none of them ever held his interest enough to request multiple sexual encounters. Except her. None had ever desired for his touch from their own free will or had given themselves to him so willingly without the slightest bit of fear. And no other woman had been able to lie next to him in his own bed without experiencing a single nightmare. Except Cupid. Pitch had noticed it that very first night when she fell asleep so peacefully, her fingers locked with his…and staying asleep without a single stir…something that not even he could accomplish.

How?

How was she so different? How could she be? Not only did his nightmares not affect her, he also couldn't attack her. How was she any different than any other immortal? She pleasured him sexually, engaged him socially, fearless of him, kind to him… She was…he dare to think…compatible…like they were meant to…

Before Pitch even finished that thought, his mind dismissed it when he felt those rosy lips pressing against his, her tongue demanding an entrance.

Despite her own complex thoughts about him racing through her mind, Cupid embraced his warm, strong, and incredibly protective arms wrapping themselves around her. Whimpering softly when his tongue began a feverish dance with hers, she felt his rough hands glide down the soft fabric covering her back, granting her complete control of their position. His succulent kisses started off gentle, teasing her month with undesired impatience but gradually increased their speed. Her long, graceful fingers began working down the dark cloth covering his chest while her white dress was pushed off her shoulders revealing her already perked nipples as they hovered over his hairless chest. A few kisses later, both were undressed, their dry naked bodies shivering with anticipation. Grasping her hips firmly, he slowly placed her atop of his throbbing and eager length. A sigh of pure pleasure forced itself from her heart shaped lips as his shaft slowly made its way through her constricting walls.

"Oh…" he grunted out, praying to the moon that she would always feel this tight. "So…good…" Her hands planted themselves firmed on his chest as he filled her core entirely. Even though their past encounters had been slightly painful, her body now fully welcomed him and stretched itself to accommodate his rock hard cock without any resistance. Forcefully, he latched his right hand onto the back of her head and pushed, guiding her perfect C-cupped breasts to hover over his mouth. Extending his neck, his lips devoured her nipples. Kissing, licking, and biting with a gentle tenderness as to not scar them with his jagged teeth. A precaution that he never considered with another because he honestly didn't care.

"Pitch…oh my…you…don't…stop…" she panted, feeling his tongue circle around her breast. It certainty didn't help that his hands were accommodating his month oh so well, squeezing them with all the attention he could possibly muster. But it wasn't enough. While he was distracted, she bucked into his hips, smiling when she heard a sharp breath gasped into her chest.

"Oh." He growled sensually. "You want to play it like that then…" then he thrust upwards at full force, straight into her heat. Wrapping his legs around her waist, he unexpectedly turned over, causing her to land on her back. With her hands pinned above her head, he began aggressively pounding into her. Not allowing her time to gasp, not allowing her time to react, or scream, or cry out in ecstasy, she was completely defenseless, and she was all his.

Each thrust was fast and each thrust was deep. Very deep. Leaving her breathless, Cupid arched her back against the sheets as her nails let light pink trails down his back. Pitch kneeled down and released long, hot moans into the crook of her neck.

"Harder, Pitch! Please…Harder!" she hissed.

In the heat of the moment, he gripped onto one of her ankles and hoisted it over his shoulder allowing himself so much more of her. She had to scream, she had to. It was too much. It was his voice, his grunts and his moans that were coming out more frequently and more desperate. Unable to contain this sensation, his tone was heightening.

"Cupid..God…" he cried out, the cold sweat dripping from his forehead. Pitch's eyes were clamped shut. He couldn't focus on anything but wanting to pleasure her. He couldn't explain it but each and every time felt better than the last. How could he have gone so long, thousands of years, of not having her like this. Even after twelve years of what could be loosely defined as 'dating', he was never tempted. She had initiated it. All of it.

"Ah! Your Majesty! I…I'm gonna…I think…"

"Go, C'mon…get there…come for me…ah…" he demanded, bucking harder and faster.

She screamed just seconds before she rode out her orgasm, triggering his hot seed to spill into her, moaning heavily as he did so.


Hours passed slowly and sleep did not come easy to either of them, although neither of them would admit it. She wanted to know, had to know if this was just a fling, if there was something else blooming between them and most importantly, if he could feel it too. That these feeling weren't just one sided.

Feelings.

Were there feelings at all?

There was friendship, yes. Trust? clearly. But was there more or was it strictly just sex? She didn't know if she just wasn't aware of them or just couldn't accept them for what they were. If they even existed. They were light and dark. Day and Night. Fear and Love. He was a threat to this world and she was a guardian to this world. There could never be a compromise, never. They could never be open or affectionate or even public. They could continue to exchange gifts, but how long would that last before the meaning was lost? The voice of reason would always be pushed aside, promises would always be broken, and secrets would always have to be kept. How could she expect this to be anything more than…whatever it was when there were so many limitations? She had been with other men and him with other women but here they were time and time again. Defying nature.

How could an emotion over flood her senses but at the same time leave her so empty.
Make her heart soar but also bring her to tears.

"Cupid…" he whispered with concern. Her fears were bursting out her skull with an incredible persistence. All about him. All about them. He could see all of her fears, poisoning her…draining her and it was destroying him. "Stop…"
"Stay out of my thoughts!" and then she fled. Too ashamed to admit her weaknesses, too embarrassed that he could always read her fears, and too enraged that she wouldn't be able to stop him, so she left.

The warm midnight summer breeze kissed her skin from her overdue absence. The soft dirt tickled her bare feet, massaging them from the cold marble floors. It was the middle of the night, although she couldn't tell if it was the same day or possibly even the next day. There was no way to know. Cupid never thought she would miss the familiar scent of fresh air until she had been deprived of it. It was clean, petrichor scented air that reminded her of why she had fallen so deeply in love with this Earth in the first place. Seizing the opportunity of being out of Pitch's sight, Cupid ran a hand through her massive mane of hair, each and every curl stretching and straightening to its true length. All the way down to her Achilles' heel. Thin, blonde bangs framed the sides of her face, popping her eyes and cheekbones.

"You should straighten your hair more often." He softly whispered to her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You look so elegant." Romantically kissing her cheek, he intertwined his fingers around hers, and rested them atop her stomach. "I can't control it, Cupid. It's just an instinct. I'm sorry."

It wasn't the apology she was expecting but it was never the less welcomed, especially coming from him.

"I…just…I don't know…" she confessed, feeling his fingertips on her scar.

'Just say it, Cupid. Don't be a coward. Not to him of all people.'

"What are we? Us…I mean-" She hated wording it like that but she had to know. Right now.

"That's a juvenile question." He interrupted with a harsh tone. "…but if you must know. You are my lover…and if I have to say it, I also consider you…a fr-friend."

"Do you trust me?"

"Obviously."

"What is your name…your real name?"

"Cupid…"

"I know you know…you remember what it is like…to be human."

"Yes…I do."

"Tell me your name. Please."

"Tell me yours." She wouldn't give him the sick satisfaction of answering that question. He knew she didn't know.

"You just said that you trusted me?"

"That's not the reason."

"Please…"

"I've never told anyone. Besides, it's not relevant to who I am now."

"Honor me." She pressured. "Let me be the first to know."

She was beginning to sound like a spoiled child and it infuriated him. His lovers were strong, confident, and intelligent women, nothing below his incredibly high standards… not entitled brats. But then again, Cupid usually got what she wanted whether it was information, candy, flowers, gifts, and sometimes, even men since she took her very first breath. She couldn't possibly know how immature she sounded right now.

"What's your center?" she persisted, bound and determined to get something, if anything out of him.

"What?" Pitch replied, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Your reason for being here…on this Earth…your center…"

"Is that a silly term created by the fat one?"

"Pitch…"

"I don't believe in such nonsense…"

"Then tell me your name!"

"Why do you need to know?"

"I don't need to know. I want to know." She sarcastically shot back, proving his point entirely.

"Why?" he hissed, rapidly growing impatient with her.

"Because…" she was drawing a blank and starting to regret that she even asked him at all. She was a fool to think he'd be so open with her about something so personal. Cupid said the first thing that popped into her mind. "I…just…want to know you better."

"Come up with that excuse right off the top of your head? You're going to have to do better than that Ms. Bowenaro."

'How long has it been…since I've heard that name…'

"Because I've shared a bed with you and..-"

"And that entitles you to know my most per-"

"I've defend your life against those who wish to end it!" Now, it was her turn to interrupt him. "Stood up to you. And despite being fully aware of Jack's feelings for me, I've chosen your presence over his!"

Silence.

"Greed! You said she didn't know! This will ruin the entire plan! What are we supposed to do now?!"

"Shut up, Envy! We'll figure something out…"

"But we've wasted so much time, all for naught…she's been one step ahead of us all along."

"I know that, but be patient…this only heightens his trust for the whore even more, and sooner or later, that trust has to sway and evidentially…fall…"

"You've known all this time that Frost…loves you?" He was completely taken back. This changed everything about her. All that time he wasted, all the hours he spent believing her to be so ignorant when in all actually he had been the fool, never once taking into consideration that she may have known the entire time.

"Of course I have! It's almost insulting how clear it is! And they encourage it, all of them! What am I supposed to say to that? They think we're this absolute perfect couple and we're not. He's my…friend, my best friend and to think of him as anything else…is weird. It's so embarrassing and sometimes, I feel like I have no say, I have no choice….until you. I chose you and I'm choosing you right now."

'Will you always choose me?'

He couldn't find the strength to say those words.

"I'm not as you so nicely put it 'oblivious'." She mocked, making quotation marks with her fingers. "I'm the Guardian of Love. That's the only thing I know! How to inspire it, how to destroy it, how to um…make it. And I…I very much know when others feel it…"

And because of that, she knew in her heart of hearts…that Pitch Black didn't feel it for her. And for some strange reason she couldn't explain, it made her sad. But how could it? What if he did love…her? How could she even accept it if he did?

"You don't love him?" he whispered, shining the inescapable spotlight on her.

"I recall making that very clear a few nights ago. With a kiss." And then she made it clear to him again, just to kill any remaining doubt he had, replicating the same fierceness and passion of their first kiss flawlessly. But there was more to it now. He felt something else. Something deeper. Something stronger and it left him breathless.

"Cupid…" Pitch muttered into her mouth, grabbing a handful of smooth, shiny hair and letting it fall ever so delicately between his fingers. She was here, choosing him over someone who wanted to spend of rest of his eternal life with her and he just couldn't comprehend why. She could have any man she desired, the most handsome, the wealthiest, the most intelligent...even her best friend…but she chose him…

"Yes…Pitch?" She couldn't bring herself open her eyes, her senses were so overloaded from that heavily entrancing, velvet voice.

"I promise you…on the day of my death…I will tell you my name."

"Do still believe me daft? You're immortal…"

"Pity then."

"Pitch! You bastard!" She shouted, patting him on the chest playfully. The Guardian was flustered and he found it nothing less than bizarrely adorable. It took a lot to get her to curse. She wasn't a goody two shoes by any definition of the word, having enough notches on her bedpost that would embarrass even the very oldest of trees, but she was still a lady when it came to socializing…most of the time, when she wasn't being a stubborn brat or an irresistible temptress.

"You and your secrets, Darling…I swear to the Moon, you're going to be the death of me…" she smirked, nudging his shoulder lightly before dropping back into the pit under the broken bed, disgruntled that she wasn't able to gain any information about him, but strangely satisfied that she obtained a promise.

The Boogieman was left alone where they stood; completely frozen and numb. Nothing was ever a coincidence in this world and no one knew that better than the immortals, guardians or not. Planting a small kiss below his right hand, he silently cursed the Man in the Moon for the sick joke. Nothing was going to happen to her, his light, his angel, his guardian. And that was a promise…


DUNDUNDUN!

Again, thank you for the long wait. Life happens and it often gets in the way of hobbies and interests. Please review dearies, I couldn't have never made it this far without you. Thank you so much for your support! :D

Also, congrats to our big winners and don't forget to check your inboxes tomorrow!