WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 9
«Jack, answer me!».
The boy, shaken by the desperate call, finally decided to answer with a groan, but he didn't move, too exhausted even to be able to contract a muscle.
Inwardly, however, he was laughing, hearty laughing: he had never felt such an immense joy in his entire life. His partner, the Boogeyman himself, was worried about him, lovingly taking care of his body and even invoking him with a voice broken from grief, anguished about the idea he had killed him!
Pitch had finally thrown off the mask and shown explicitly how much he cared about him. Not that he had not already done it in the past: although he had never starved him of a good deal of cruelty in their meetings, Jack hadn't missed some special, revealing signals, which he had clung to with stubborn determination, candidly confident that the truth, sooner or later, would have surfaced, rippling all those layers of painful appearance, emerging above any ostensible undeniable duty. Because, no matter how much the man could have shown off wicked pleasure in torturing him and, then, indifferent coolness in abandoning him after every embrace, Frost had never had any doubt that he cared about him. Otherwise, why on earth, after their first kiss, seeing him half unconscious, had he grabbed him in flight and gently laid him on the ground, instead of letting him slam into the ice? Why, every time, did he caress him with infinite tenderness, always soothing the sporadic scratches which he made him? Why did he court his neck with such excitement, believing not to be noticed while he inhaled his scent with an ecstatic expression? Why did he kiss him with such passion? Why, when he touched him, did he always make sure to give him the most intense pleasure? And why did he pronounce his name so often, almost at every sentence of their conversation, making it vibrate so musically in his throat, even though they were always alone and it was, therefore, unnecessary to reiterate, at every turn, who he was addressing to?
He could have gone on, counting in an endless list every little gesture that Pitch, voluntarily or not, had dedicated to him, but it would have been meaningless: the more time passed, the more the enumeration increased, enriched with sweet touches that only a tender lover could have given to him.
As if to confirm this the man, seeing his reaction, let out a sigh of relief, resting for a moment his head on his heart to pull himself together; soon, however, he stood up, passing his big palms on his cold skin and massaging it to help him recover.
When his epidermis was heated enough the boy felt his partner cover him with a thin and soft fabric, leaving a small kiss on that special point under his left ear, then intertwining his legs to his, drawing him in a warm and enveloping hug and tenderly holding him tightly, making him put his forehead on his chest.
At this gesture Jack couldn't help but smile: he had never doubted the affection that laid in the heart of the Boogeyman, but when he thought nobody was watching him he could really excel himself. With a feeble groan the boy rested in those strong and possessive arms, continuing to pretend to be unconscious, and he enjoyed the cuddles he was giving him. He noticed him slowly relaxing, hearing his breaths getting deeper and more regular, feeling his pulse slowing down, and, after about ten minutes, he was completely sure he was asleep.
Only at this point Frost dared to open his eyes and he found himself staring at the throat of Pitch, so thin and long, almost feminine in the sinuous lines of its sinews, yet undeniably masculine in the sharp corners which connected it to the shoulders; he had always adored it and he had never denied to himself the displeasure of knowing he could have caressed it so few times in their meetings: it was definitely time to remedy.
He deftly relaxed the grip around his chest, in order to move more freely, then, lifting on his right elbow, he bent over that neck, so desired, so unconsciously exposed to seem almost a lure: he gently left a soft kiss on the hollow just above the clavicle, then he slowly went up, methodically stroking every little inch of skin. Placing his left hand on his partner's heart, in order to feel the pulse which gradually increased, he followed his jugular, lightly touching it with his lips, enjoying the light moan the other, still asleep, let out, and thus he reached the ear; there the scent of his velvet skin was more intense, like the soft moss which grows in the underbrush: mysterious, wild, yet incredibly familiar to Jack. Ecstatically inhaling it he half opened his mouth and passed his tongue on that spot, rejoicing for the languid sigh Pitch let out as soon as he was touched, and he had to insist just a little to pull him out of the oblivion into which he had fallen and bring him back to reality.
Relented he watched him rubbing his cheek against the mattress, then opening his eyelids with difficulty; patiently he waited for him to wake up completely and recover and, when he saw him turning his head and looking at him, he rewarded him with the smile he had addressed him so many times: sincere, mature, happy and full of feeling.
The Boogeyman stared at him with his eyes wide open, showing entirely his iridescent irises, which, in that moment, were almost completely permeated by golden rays, and he didn't try to hide the myriad of emotions which went through him: pure joy for the rapid recovery of Frost, shame for being caught in sleep, astonishment for the cuddles he was receiving, sadness for having tortured him until he fainted.
Embarrassed and repentant the man glanced down, as if to escape from the boy while continuing to embrace him. Jack, in order to reassure him, whispered: «Pitch, about what happened before, I...».
Before he could finish Pitch put his index and middle finger on his lips to stop him, looking at him with a pained expression which said: "No, please. It was enough, for me, to believe you died: I do not need to be punished with a reprimand".
Oh, foolish, foolish Boogeyman! He could be so cunning, and then fail on such banalities! But, indeed, that wasn't a simple matter at all and, without doubt, this was a shaky ground for him. Jack didn't want to accuse him, the words he wanted to say were not warnings, but it didn't matter: if the man didn't want to let him speak he would have communicated what he wanted to confide him in another way.
The boy gently started to kiss those sharp fingers, following them down to the knuckles and back, never averting his gaze from his; then, unexpectedly, he opened his lips and slid his tongue over his fingertips. Languid he slowly accepted them in his mouth, phalanx by phalanx, until he reached their base, pulling up with the incisors to lure him, and he began to suck with no hurry: he wanted to be sure to convey all the feelings that animated himself, he wanted to reassure him and give him pleasure, he wanted to show him that, although he was inexperienced, he was able to be as sensual as him and that he would have done his best.
Staring at him with mischievous eyes he caught his wrist with his left hand and continued his work, moving the head in a calm, sinuous rhythm, licking with lust, as if he was courting a far more intimate part than just those fingers: with every gesture he wanted to lure him, to seduce him, to erase from his mind the words "candid" and "ingenuous" associated with his name. Pitch thought he was so innocent and pure, and, in a sense, he was right: Jack was not corrupt, nor shrewd, and he didn't conceive of sex as a thing on its own. However, if only the Boogeyman had seen him, just the night before, following two boys, discovered by chance in an alley while they were kissing, only to learn all the way how two men gave pleasure to each other... at least he would have diametrically changed his mind.
Wanting something more than that simple yet not chaste contact, Frost laid on the mattress, in order to move more freely, and, no interrupting what he was already doing, he put his right palm on his partner's heart: he listened to the increased beats for few seconds, then he stroked the abs, following their soft lines to the waist, passing with a little hesitation the hem of his trousers and stopping on the groin.
Pitch, who, till then, had remained motionless, as if he had been bewitched by a spell, suddenly startled, maybe taken by surprise by such audacity, but he didn't rejected him; after few moments, indeed, he subtly put his leg aside, to leave him more space, and Jack didn't need to be asked twice. At first he just hesitantly stroked it, intrigued by the novelty and afraid not to be able to keep with it: he had never touched a man before and the last thing he wanted was to be clumsy and, therefore, incapable. After a while, however, he rejoiced to feel how that cock, just aroused, fit perfectly in his hand and promptly reacted, hardening at every movement, and he got more acquainted with it.
Feeling suffocated by the heat he kicked away the blanket the Boogeyman had kindly woven for him, but he saw the partner was still keeping his eyes half-closed, in an expression somewhere between ecstasy and suffering, and, going on with the sensual massage, he soon understood the reason: his trousers bound him cruelly, in a tight and more and more choking grasp. Frost immediately seized the top hem and pulled it down, tearing the fabric and freeing his groin from the constraint, and the partner sighed in relief, immediately making the dark cloth dissolve into a vanishing mist, as if he had waited for permission to get completely undressed.
Impatient the boy grabbed his cock, softly stroking it with his fingers along its entire length, and hearing, finally, a faint moan; in order to take courage he went on a little longer, then he took a deep breath and he decided to go further.
Staring at him with an expression full of lust he strengthened the grip on his wrist and pulled his fingers out of his mouth, sliding at a speed unbearably low the tip of his tongue in the thin gap between the index and the middle finger, in a naughty allusion; trying not to tremble he made those wet fingertips stroking himself, driving them along an imaginary line from the sternum to the stomach, swerving, at the last, and taking them on his buttock, in an embarrassed but clear request.
Immediately he threw his free arm around the neck of the man, involving him in a passionate kiss to try to hide the evident blush which reddened his cheeks, and he shuddered feeling him taking charge, dominating in that sensual dance and firmly grabbing his butt. Holding his breath the boy felt him gently sliding his fingers into the seam and start to massage the inviolate entrance, and he sighed noticing how sweetly the other treated him, making sure, as always, he could feel the most intense pleasure.
Slowly he relaxed, letting him lead and putting his left knee on his waist in order to ease his movements, but he could not help but stifled a muffled moan when he felt his index penetrating him: it was a strange feeling, annoying and painful, but he didn't try to escape from it, well aware that, if he had endured, he would have been handsomely rewarded. Slowly he became accustomed to the intrusion, getting lost in the chills it gave him and relaxing his muscles, and he began to act with less coordination; the Boogeyman, in return, wasted no time and he violated him with the medium finger, too.
At that second gesture Jack violently arched his back, moaning in pain and holding the partner's right arm with both his hands; Pitch broke the kiss, making him turn on his back and laying over him: maliciously smiling he bent over his jugular, languidly drawing it with his tongue, to reach that special spot under the ear; finally, pressing his nose on his cheek, he forced him to turn his face and he eagerly licked that little inch of skin, rubbing himself against him and starting to move his fingers inside him.
Frost shuddered, starting to gasp and shiver, involuntarily trying to escape from him and, at the same time, looking for him with desire, torn between the pain of the penetration and the pleasure of the hickey; in the end, however, it took to him less than a minute to surrender to the second one. Feebly moaning he caressed his neck and silky hair, following him in his descent along the collarbone and the sternum, alongside of which he left clear signs of bites; he gasped surprised feeling him going away from his stomach, interrupting the pleasant torture, but he didn't have to wait long to know his purposes.
Suddenly a humid and suffocating heat wrapped the boy's cock down to the base and he arched, bursting into a satisfied groan: it was only the third time that the man was using his mouth like that, and yet Jack felt already addicted to it. That soft palate against which he rubbed, that curious tongue which deftly aroused him, that avid throat he reached at every sinuous movement of the head of his partner, everything bewitched him, sending through him hot shivers and tying him on the spot, making him defenceless and subject to the other's will; and this situation, this being won and subdued by the Boogeyman, he had always liked it. He had never been able to explain the reason: maybe as opposed to his being a free spirit, maybe for the seductive skills of Pitch, maybe because he knew that the other enjoyed seeing him behaving in that way; in any case, however, the reason had not the slightest importance, especially at that time.
With a groan he spread his legs, so that his partner could settle himself more comfortably, and he firmly clawed at the threadbare sheets, worried to scratch his nape; half-closing his liquid and dreamy eyes he barely noticed the third finger, intervened to penetrate him, assuming, for a moment, a grimace in pain on his lips, but opening them few seconds later to sigh again.
By that time Jack couldn't feel anything except of his body and the two languid tortures he was subjected to, unable to choose if he wanted to push himself towards the fingers which violated him or towards the mouth which wrapped his erection; after a while he realized he was close to the orgasm, so, raking up all the strength he had, he moved: he hooked his knee in the soft hollow between the chest and the left arm of the Boogeyman, then he pulled, forcing him to move away from his groin and return with his face next to his neck.
Reaching out to him he passed his nose on his hollow cheek, slowly approaching his ear, and finally he sensually whispered: «Pitch, make me yours».
At first he thought that he had spoken too softly, because he saw no reaction; then, suddenly, he felt Pitch's fingers quickly going out from his body and firmly pressing on his left thigh to open it even more.
It was a matter of moments: just few seconds before Frost almost felt a sense of emptiness within himself for the sudden abandonment, and, few seconds later, an indescribable pain. He felt himself split in two, his eyes opened wide but blind, so astonished by the deep and ungentle penetration he couldn't even let out a lament: he did not expect such a brutal cruelty after so many cuddles.
Just when he began to think that his trust had been betrayed, and tears for the double suffering slipped out of his eyes, he was sweetly consoled: silky lips gathered those salty drops, drying his face, and gentle hands caressed him. With a sob the boy opened his irises, he saw the man tenderly smiling at him, full of desire and a little sorry of having took him in such an abrupt way, and he tried to smile back, putting together a tense grimace.
The Boogeyman moved down to kiss his neck, rubbing his palms on his abdomen and thighs, and he didn't stop until he felt all the muscles relaxing; finished that he started to stroke, using his tongue, that special spot under the ear and he gave a faint thrust with his pelvis.
The boy moaned back, arching his back in pain and pleasure, but he didn't complain, rather urging him with a hug to continue; the first moments were a pure and burning torture, which he struggled with stoic endurance not to refuse, but, fortunately, he had not to bear it for long: soon the ability of the man saved him from the torment.
With expert hands Pitch opened a little more his legs, putting them in a position more comfortable for both of them, and he grabbed with the right hand his hip, in order to follow better their movements; in reward for this Frost turned his head, giving him his defenceless throat, and the partner immediately sank his sharp teeth in that jugular which he had tasted so many times and which, however, he didn't seem to have had enough of. Biting and sucking the Boogeyman trapped him against the mattress, preventing him from escaping and slowly sliding his left hand along his chest, reaching his cock and started to stroke it, in order to distract him.
Despite the caress had been light and discreet Jack groaned loudly, clawing at the shreds of the sheets and biting his lip to try to hold himself, but it was all useless: the man was too capable and he was too inexperienced to manage not to surrender to pleasure. In few seconds the boy was shaken by an electric shiver and, with a cry half ecstatic and half frustrated, he came, wetting his abdomen with his own semen. A sob escaped from his mouth: this was not what he wanted, he wanted to satisfy the other and donate him a longer embrace, but he had just made the impression of being unable and selfish.
The Boogeyman, however, didn't seem to be of the same opinion: satisfied he passed his iridescent irises over his body, from the wet groin to the neck, staring at him with an avid look; then, bending his lips into a mischievous smile, he moved his fingertips and lightly touched again his cock.
Immediately the boy gasped, surprised: his erection was still aroused and warm chills were sent from it, exciting and intense, yet more bearable, more manageable than the first ones which had crossed his body, shocking him.
Frost had been courted, cuddled, spoiled and satisfied during the embrace, too overwhelmed to do anything but undergo: it was time for him to reciprocate and donate, too. Feeling he was recovering he threw his arms round his partner's neck, drawing his face few inches from his own, and, trying not to take his eyes away in embarrassment, he whispered with a hoarse voice: «More».
A shiver of fear went through him when he saw his topaz-coloured irises being invaded by obscure tentacles, but he didn't give up and, rather, he hugged his pelvis with his legs in order to emphasize the request.
The man stroked his cheek with his own and he mischievously murmured: «As you wish, my little Jack».
Then, without further ado, he gave a strong thrust, stopping immediately to check his reaction; in response, the boy tightened his grip around his waist, giving a thrust to ask him not to quit and persuade him, eventually, to not restrain himself, as he had thoughtfully done before, but to let himself go and take what they craved for.
Pitch didn't need to be asked twice: with a vibrating growl he grabbed him by the hips, penetrating him repeatedly and deeply, and he let out a satisfied gasp when he felt Frost's nails piercing his back, scratching it until it started to bleed.
Jack gasped, lost in that union so desired: he couldn't feel anything except for his own body and the other's one. He felt his eager sighs against his neck, his perfect dorsals under his hands, his silky skin torn by his nails and the partner's ones which clawed at his buttocks; he felt his spine arching, his solid bottom rhythmically contracting under his calves, his thin but muscular thighs supporting his ones, his flat abdomen sensually rubbing against his cock. He felt the other's one violating him, making him uncontrollably moan, trying to dig a space within him despite it wasn't necessary, because the Boogeyman already had a special place in his heart; but, above all, he felt his real essence, sweet and violent, possessive and generous, so complex and impossible, yet so clear and beautiful for Frost.
Lost in these feelings so new and completely absorbing the boy took about ten seconds to realize that the partner had returned with his back almost straight, opening his legs a little more to make him feel comfortable and penetrate him better, and that, continuing to thrust, he was looking at him with a dreamy look, adoring and avid at the same time.
Blushing with embarrassment Jack demurely tried to cover himself, but Pitch stopped him and, grabbing his wrists in a gentle but firm grip, he whispered: «No. Let me look, Jack».
Glancing down the boy surrendered to him, leaving his hands next to his own face, and without further ado the man restarted to penetrate him, again and again, making him moan and arch his spine at every sinuous movement.
Frost felt his flesh literally torn away from his bones by those fiery irises, who pierced him with such longing and lust to make him shudder, and courageously he decided to give himself to them: he turned his face on a side, offering the jugular and covering his eyes with the back of his right hand, in a mischievous "I see – I don't see" that ended up rather to emphasize than to hide; he lifted a little his chest, in order to expose it, well aware that the pants with which he frantically went up and down made it even more desirable; finally, he put his left hand on his collarbone, slowly touching it with his fingertips, going down and down, in a languid caress which wanted to replicate the hot massages of the other.
This last gesture was the coup de grace: with a sob the Boogeyman turned his head, biting his lip and closing his eyes, but, soon after, he reopened them with a feral expression. Renouncing resisting he leapt back onto him, like a panther on its prey, he rested his forearms near his chest to support himself and, with two last, deep thrusts, he came.
When he had sawn him bowing the boy had opened his thighs as much as he could and he had promptly brought his fingers to his mouth, covering it to prevent any sound from escaping. The award he received in return was priceless: a long groan, vibrant, initially so low it was almost inaudible, broke from the partner, heightening, taking shape and volume until it reached the apex acute and far beyond the limits of the obscene. By comparison, the first sensual sigh he had let out, during the recovery from the ice, had been a simple breath; this one, on the contrary, had shaken him to the marrow, echoing in his mind and making every single muscle tremble, and Jack, overwhelmed by the sublime sensation of feeling him pouring his semen inside him, marking him in the most intimate way it existed, could not help but surrender and come, too. Half opening his lips he let out a high and languid gasp, almost like a moan, wetting for the second time his stomach and tightening his legs around Pitch's waist; he stood tense for a moment, then he gave up, collapsing exhausted beneath him.
The man held out a few moments more, just enough to gently slide out of him without hurting him or make him feel a sense of loss and nostalgia, then he fell, too, managing, at the last, to divert a little and lie on the side of his chest, in order not to encumber on it and suffocate him.
They panted in unison, every one lost in his own hot and blurred world, but linked to the other by the hesitant and approximate hug they were trying to exchange: in fact, Jack had moved his arms to encircle the Boogeyman's shoulders, groping for them and finally finding them behind the black curtain of fatigue that obscured his view, and he absently started to stroke them, barely able to move his fingers.
At that touch Pitch seemed to wake up and regain enough strength to return to rest on his forearms, covering him without weighting on him, but the boy was not even able to turn his head to look at him: blind and motionless he let him do what he wanted, unable to stand or even just think in a coherent way. Suddenly he felt his breath coming closer, lightly blowing on his cheek, and the feeling was incredibly amplified: evidently the temporary softening of the other four senses had enhanced the touch. That hot breath suddenly started to move, reaching the ear and disappearing, replaced in a blink of an eye by a soft and curious tongue, which could not wait to find every nerve and steal him a gasp: an expert tongue, which, in that moment, was spoilt for choice to arouse Frost.
As soon as he felt that wet organ licking him the boy let out a low moan, wondering at the shivers which had crossed him for a contact so light, and that was a signal to his partner, the permission to do him what he wanted.
Sighing in turn the man put his lips to his neck, gently sucking the tortured skin and following the jugular; going along his collarbone he rested on his chest and captured his left nipple with his teeth, tormenting him and enjoying the loud, lusty cries of Frost; then, finally, he went further down, until he reached his wet abdomen. He hesitated only for a moment, then he eagerly began to lick, taking away his semen as if it were the best and most precious nectar in the world: at every lap Jack felt thrilled and he trembled, his opened thighs faintly scratched by the sharp fingers of the Boogeyman, and the Boogeyman himself settled between them, assisting him as a caring mother with its newborn puppy, and courting him as a languid lover, undeniably intended to drag him into perdition. For the Spirit of Frost, however, that was not perdition: it was the exact opposite.
Moaning one last time he felt the other get up and go back at his heart level and he hugged him tightly, lovingly encircling his shoulders and bringing his mouth to his. At first Pitch tried to dodge him, probably in order not to make him taste again his own flavour, but the boy refused to listen to him and, opening his lips, he passionately kissed him, stroking his palate and eagerly let his own semen slip into his throat, until the partner became sure the taste didn't bother him and took over the helm again, imposing himself and leading as always.
Short of breath they broke the kiss, panting and staring at each other, the pupils clouded by fatigue and pleasure, the look still a bit feral as a remaining of the experience they just had had, and Frost had sudden flash: foxglove. Purple foxglove. That was the scent the other emanated in this moment. He remembered that flower, composed by clusters of white bell-shaped corollas, stained in their inner part by minute dark red dots, like drops of curdled blood, and he remembered the words of his mother: "Do not ever come near to the foxglove, Jack: it's venomous, and if you touch it you get intoxicated". The woman couldn't be more right: it had been enough, for him, to touch the man to be bewitched by his beauty and the depth of his soul, to become unable to rid himself of the obsession for him and madly addicted to all his attentions.
Gently caressing his back to soothe the deep scratches that he had given him, Jack smiled and continued to look him, until he could see only those two iridescent circles, until he sank in those wonderful and impossible colours: those irises contained the sunrise in the night, the light in the shadow, the hope in despair, in an oxymoronic but perfect union of opposites which only the Boogeyman was and could be.
Surrounded by those rays of light and those dark tentacles Jack reached out his right hand up to touch the cheek of the other and, with a faint voice, but without the slightest hesitation, he whispered: «I love you».
He endured a little longer, to enjoy Pitch's genuine expression of disbelief, then he gave up, exhausted, confidently abandoning himself in his arms and fell into a deep sleep.
Syryus90 made me a fanart for this chapter ^^ go on my profile to see it! You just have to follow the instruction and you will find the drawing published in a special post ^^
The next chapter will be published this Monday ^^ see you soon!
