WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 10
«Jack, answer me!».
The groan which came in response was, for Pitch, the sweetest sound he had ever heard: never, ever in his long existence he had been so afraid, and he had felt so alone and guilty. He sighed with relief, as if a weight equal to that of a boulder had been lifted from his chest, and he smiled: Jack, his sweet little snowflake, was still with him, he wasn't dead, he hadn't been broken between his big hands. Hearing him breathe again was the best prize, and see him slightly moving the sweetest vision: he was still there, they were still together.
This, however, didn't mean that the boy was okay: his skin was pale and cold even more than usual, and his breath hasty and not deep. Considerately the Boogeyman took care of him, massaging his trembling muscles to help him recover, and he carefully checked that his thin neck had not been hurt; then, seeing essentially unharmed, he evoked the fabric of darkness which he used to wear, giving it the shape of a soft blanket and draping it on himself and the other.
Relented he left a light kiss on that special spot, just below his ear, and he gently intertwined his own legs to his partner's ones, drawing him into a warm hug and gently tightening the grip, until he felt his forehead leaning on his left collarbone. How nice was Frost while he was sleeping... so calm and quiet in his trusting abandonment to the world of dreams, yet so rebellious in his cunning little face, the corners of his mouth bent into a mischievous smile even in that moment. The man thoughtfully wondered how it was possible that the boy could have a similar expression even while he was sleeping, but he immediately found the answer by himself: after all he was Jack, it could not be otherwise.
With a chuckle he softly rubbed his cheek against his left temple, sinking in his silky hair and winnowing them even more, then he settled him, in order to make him feel comfortable: the boy was already fairly tried, and he didn't want to tire him any further. Closing his eyes Pitch kissed those silvery strands one last time, then he laid down, torn between two choices: going away, as he had always done, leaving Frost alone, without a word or a gesture, without any explanation, in a moving and cruel waiting for a response which continued to be postponed; or, alternatively, taking courage in his hands and staying, facing the difficulties, running the risk of being refused, but with the opportunity to remedy, to make sure that the boy was intact not only in the body, but also in the spirit.
He hesitated only a moment, then he decided to stay: he had almost lost his snowflake once, and he didn't want that to happen again. He protectively hugged him better and he relaxed: if he could not look at his beautiful irises and hearing his voice, he wanted to keep company with him, at least. Not that the Boogeyman was able to dream: he didn't remember he had had any good vision; he remembered that, sometimes, he had had nightmares, but in most cases he had merely slipped into an empty oblivion with no colour or sound, a transition period almost similar to the non-existence, so that, if he hadn't had a sixth sense to understand the time, he could have never known how long he had slept.
Still confused by those memories of what had happened he dozed off, hoping since the last glimmer of consciousness that the partner could feel his presence beside himself and be, in some way comforted by it.
From the cocoon-like darkness in which he was immersed Pitch felt something disturbing him, insistently, but gently: something not readily identifiable, soft and warm, which continued to tickle the sensitive spot below his right ear. Giving up he slowly emerged from the oblivion into which he had slipped, blinking a little and slowly familiarizing with his surroundings: at first he recognized the worn mattress he used as a bed, then the blanket and the room; finally, he felt a presence near him and everything came back to his mind: he was in his lair and, before he had fallen asleep, he was lying next to Jack, holding him in his arms to comfort him.
Worried the man turned his head and he found in front of him the boy, afraid and not afraid at all, who, leaning on his right elbow, was lovingly looking at him and giving him again that inexplicably smile, so sincere and mature, so deeply happy. The Boogeyman opened wide his eyes, freezing under the crystalline gaze of the other, trying in vain to tame the myriad of feelings that went through him: joy in seeing his little snowflake had recovered so quickly, shame for being caught during sleep, sadness in knowing he had tortured him until he fainted, but, above all, wonder in its purest form. How could Frost not be afraid of him? And why, after all the pain he had suffered, he was still there with him, so considerate to cuddle him?
Too confused to be able to look at him Pitch glanced down, escaping to the boy while continuing to hold him tightly, and felt a bitter blow when he heard him speak.
«Pitch, about what happened before, I...».
The man didn't even let him finish: he quickly put his index and middle fingers on his lips, gently pressing on them with a pained expression and silently begging him not to go on. He knew he had been cruel, he knew he had overdone it, but the right punishment had arrived when Jack had collapsed in his arms, slipping faint on the mattress: it wasn't necessary to remark the torment with reprimands.
Foolishly he didn't considered the issue of reflecting more deeply on what the other wanted to tell him, considered how he had treated him since he had waken up; in any case he no longer had the time to do it, because he saw him give up and start to kiss his fingers. His light touch stroked him down to the knuckles and then back again, and before he could foresee that his fingertips were captured by his soft tongue: he saw the partner slowly taking in his velvet mouth the phalanges section by section, pulling with his incisors, accepting them almost in his throat in order to wrap them up to their base.
The Boogeyman was dumbfounded: he was convinced that Frost wanted to punish him for what he had suffered, to hurt him, to insult him and leave him, but he was still there, lying at his side, intent on courting the hand he had grabbed by the wrist; he was sure that he wanted to torture him for all the evil he had done, but, on the contrary, he was staring at him with a mischievous expression, sensually moving his head and eagerly sucking, as if he were few inches lower.
Enchanted by the show he superficially noticed the palm which settled on his heart, and he distinctly felt it only when, in its descent, it passed the hem of the trousers, leaning on the groin: he startled for such audacity, but he didn't pull him away and, indeed, he put his right leg aside to leave him more space.
Holding his breath he followed the approach of the boy: at first he touched it tentatively, as if to get used to the novelty; then he began to massage it more firmly, almost intrigued by the reaction of the cock; in the end, bravely, he hold tightly the erection with his thin fingers, repeatedly drawing its form through the fabric and becoming more and more experienced in stimulating it at every new caress.
Soon he saw Jack kicking away the blanket of darkness, but he didn't feel relieved: the greater torture was given to him by the trousers, which bandaged him in a tight and more and more choking grasp; he would have liked to take them off, but he wanted not to force the other to deepen the contact and, above all, to give him freedom of action, in order to understand his intentions and see how far he wanted to go and for what purpose.
He didn't suffered for long: as if he had read his mind Frost seized them and tore the fabric, freeing him and impatiently grabbing his cock, stealing him a first, small moan. Feeling him slightly biting him the man focused again his attention on his partner, who stared at him with a look full of lust: sighing he saw him slowly pulling out his fingers, sliding his tongue into the thin gap between the two in a naughty allusion; not resisting he let him bring his hand down, deducing that Frost would have demanded him satisfaction in turn, but he was really surprised when he felt him swerving, moving his palm on his buttock and blushing.
Before Pitch could realize the situation he felt the other clinging to the neck and draw him into a passionate kiss, as if to hide the embarrassment and stress the request, and at first he could only withstand, astonished: how... how could a creature so innocent and inexperienced know such a thing? How could he know that that spot would have given him a pleasure so special? Maybe he had underestimated him, maybe Jack was not so naive as he had always thought, and, indeed, the languid scene of few seconds before it was a clear demonstration of this.
Giving up reflecting further the man hold tightly his buttocks and passionately dominating in the kiss, playing with his curious tongue, stroking his soft palate and appropriating his lips, thin and yet as soft as two rosebuds. It didn't matter if the boy was candid and pure as he had always thought, or cunning and avid of intimate caresses, he didn't care if he wanted to use him or he really desired him, he didn't care of anything at all: whatever the partner would have demanded him he would have been satisfied. At least this time Pitch would have not denied anything to him, nor tortured him, and he would have kept himself from allowing himself any kind of satisfaction except for the pure and simple satisfying him, not to set aside a greater pleasure for the future, as the past times, but for respect: he had abused him too much to expect something for himself.
Gently he slid his wet fingers between his buttocks, reaching the inviolate entrance and starting to massage it slowly, in order to gradually prepare him, and he rejoiced in feeling the boy relaxing almost immediately, quietly letting him lead him and putting his left knee on his waist in order to ease his movements.
Thinking he was ready the Boogeyman gently penetrated him with the index and, as Jack stiffened with bother, he did the same with amazement: his little snowflake was so soft, so incredibly tight, so hot! In comparison, his velvet mouth emanated only a slight warmth... Oh, he had seen how the Guardian of frost could heat up and melt under his expert touch, but he would have never expected this far! What a temptation was, for him, that fire, that hot secret he had just revealed: if he had listened to his instinct he would undoubtedly have forced the other under him, opening his legs and penetrating him discourteously, stealing him his virginity and thrusting again, again, again, biting his hyaline skin and marking him with his semen, as to declare he was his, releasing him only when he would have seen him almost lifeless, exhausted from the union and too tired to be able to feel anything. However, he would have never done that: he had promised himself not to abuse his partner any more, to satisfy him at least this time and not to take anything for himself, and, without doubt, the boy would have never asked him to embrace him, not carnally, not after all he had suffered for.
Blinking a little to regain lucidity the man pulled himself together and, seeing that Jack was calm, he dared to violate with the middle finger, too: instantly he felt him stiffening, moaning in pain and arching the spine, tightly clutching his right arm but not trying to pull it away, as if he was asking him just to stop for a while and not to give up.
Breaking the kiss Pitch hastened to soothe his suffering: he gently made him turn on his back, lying on him without encumber him with his weight and mischievously smiling to him; then, sweetly pressing his nose against his cheek, forcing him to turn his head, finally reaching that special spot just below the ear and immediately starting to stroke him with his tongue.
Frost's response was instantaneous: he arched with a gasp, opening wide his eyes and moaning for the pleasure of the hickey and the pain of penetration. It was so perfect, so sincere in his naive reactions, still new to these feelings so completely absorbing and so so nice to see that the man knew with certainty that he would have never got tired of watching him.
Gradually, the boy became accustomed to the intrusion, relaxing his muscles and clinging to the Boogeyman's neck, and Pitch use the occasion to temporarily remove his fingers, passing his hand between his open legs, to reach him more easily, and starting again to stimulate him; the other, however, was so lost he seemed not to have even noticed that. Satisfied, without any discomfort now for both of them, the man smiled and began a slow, controlled descent, during which he took the liberty to stop whenever he wanted, to bite his smooth skin and soothe, then, the sign of the teeth with a kiss; at every stop he heard a languid sigh from Jack, who seemed to appreciate a lot those attentions sweet and violent at the same time.
Intoxicated by the spicy scent of that skin which was becoming more and more hot Pitch went along his sternum and, too impatient to wait any longer, he skipped a step: in one fluid movement he reached his groin and, without hesitation, he opened his lips and accepted his cock, not hard yet, in one fell swoop.
At the same time Frost arched and burst into a groan, satisfied, but not as the moan of the Boogeyman: he adored touching him in this way. That scent of sex and snow so intense, those moans so lustful, that quivering body, that cock harder and harder that gave him a growing sense of suffocation, everything bewitched him and urged him to continue, sucking again, eagerly, deeper and deeper, faster and faster, until the climax, until he would have received as a gift that hot semen, to be able to taste it a second time. This was the only thing the man wanted, this and nothing else, and, in the attempt to achieve it, he didn't hesitate and he penetrated the other with the ring finger, too, stopping and keeping his mind clear for few seconds just to check he hadn't hurt him, and immediately starting again to move, in order not to make him loose the excitement.
With a deep sigh he clawed at his side, to block him firmly while he increased the pace of both caresses, determined to make him the most intense pleasure before letting him come, but when he thought he was close to the orgasm he felt himself being carried away, pulled by his knee until his face reached his neck.
Just as he asked himself the reason of the interruption, dumbfounded, arrived right in time in the most satisfying moment for Jack, he felt him slightly brushing against his cheek with his nose and he heard him sensually whispering in his ear: «Pitch, make me yours».
At the sound of those two words, as simple as absolute, Pitch froze: make me yours... make me yours. He would have never, ever expected such a request from the boy, not even in his wildest dreams. Frost, his strongest and most forbidden desire, his sweetest snowflake, was offering himself in that way, with total abandonment and confidence, after he had been deceived, abused, tortured until he had fainted. In that way, as if it were the most natural thing in the world forgiving all those cruel acts in a blink of an eye, as if it was the right thing giving himself in that way: it was absurd, absurd and inexplicable, like the sincere smile that the boy sent him every time they met, so almost impossible that the Boogeyman did not want to believe it. On the other hand, he couldn't have imagined it, he couldn't have heard wrong: that sentence had been uttered directly into his ear and it had pierced his heart and mind like a sword. It was true, it had to be true: he had to believe, and accept it, before the idyll vanished, before the partner had second thoughts and reversed his decision.
Letting his instinct overwhelm him he abruptly pulled his fingers out the other and pressed them behind his left knee, opening his legs and exposing his as much as possible; then, without further ado, he penetrated him with a single, fluid thrust.
Instantly his eyes widened and he gasped: Jack was so hot, so tight, so incredibly stifling he almost hurt him in the contracted grip around his hard cock. It was this thought to make him pull himself together, the fear that, if he was feeling a little pain, the boy would have been probably torn apart by a greater one: in confirmation of this, when he glanced down, he saw him tense and trembling, his blind irises wide open in a shocked and suffering expression, while hot tears already started to escape from the corners of his eyelids. He had been too hasty, he had hurt him, again, but he would have not get wrong any more: he would have made his little snowflake forgive him soon and he would have never made other mistakes.
Thoughtfully he dried his tears with light kisses, trying to comfort him; when he saw him looking at him he sent him a gaze sorry and full of desire, silently asking for pardon, and it was with joy that he accepted his smile, tense, but sincerely affectionate.
Without hesitation he went down to his neck, while, with open palms, he began to massage his abdomen and thighs in soft caresses which gradually loosened the tension of the muscles until they relax completely. Hearing him calming he languidly licked the hickey, almost purple, under his ear, then he gave a faint thrust to check if he was ready to go further; Frost, in response, groaned and hugged him with passion, pulling him toward himself as to ask him to continue.
Sure he had made him overcome the worst part the man hadn't to be asked twice: he settled his legs in a position more comfortable and less tiring for him, grabbing his left side to follow better their movements, and he started to penetrate him, setting a slow and controlled pace in order not to force him and to make him feeling the most intense pleasure with no pain. As a reward the partner sighed and offered him the jugular, full of bites and bruises, pressing on his neck to ask him to mark it again, and Pitch was happy to oblige, voluptuously mauling it. Biting and sucking he trapped him between himself and the mattress and, hearing dreamy moans, he realized that the boy liked a lot that prey role and the special treatment which, consequently, was reserved for him.
Fearing he had not yet eliminated all the pain from that embrace the Boogeyman slid his left hand along the chest of the other, reaching his crotch and starting to touch it, in order to distract him. Only one, soft caress was enough: the boy was definitely more excited and closer to the limit than he had imagined. Clawing at the sheets, in a vain attempt to hold himself back, and letting out a cry half ecstatic and half frustrated, Jack came, wetting his abdomen and immediately assuming a woebegone expression: he was evidently sorry for what had happened and he thought he had ruined everything.
Oh, silly, silly boy... he always did his best and, in several occasions, he had managed to amaze him with his audacity, but he still hadn't completely filled the void of his inexperience. The man was really satisfied with the situation, and he didn't even need to check if he could continue: Frost was an ancient creature, but his body was still young and uncorrupted over time, so much more sensitive to stimulation than an adult one and better fitted to enjoy the long unions.
Returning with his back upright, to look at him with a mischievous expression and send him the desire he felt towards him, Pitch stroked his erection with his fingertips, to show him that it hadn't softened yet, and he smiled seeing him wincing amazed at this discovery. Few seconds later, however, it was his turn to be surprised: the boy clung to his shoulders, making him bend down on him until they nose tips touched, and, with a hoarse voice and a firm gaze despite his cheeks red with embarrassment, he whispered: «More».
Trying to keep himself focused the Boogeyman rubbed his right cheek against his and said: «As you wish, my little Jack».
He gave a strong thrust, stopping immediately to check his reaction; in response to Jack, who had already tied his legs around his waist, tightening the grip even more, clearly begging him to continue and bursting into dust that little bit of self-control the man had been able to keep.
With a vibrating growl Pitch grabbed him by the hips, penetrating him repeatedly and passionately, and he gasped satisfied when he felt him embracing his back and scratching it: he madly adored violent sex, and those short and sharp nails which tortured him to the point they made him bleed were, for him, a sensual courtship, which, starting from the wounds, turned into thrill and went down, deeper and deeper, until it was conveyed to the groin, urging him to continue and stoke other scratches, in a vicious circle more and more exciting, closer and closer to the limit.
Noticing the partner loosening his grip, perhaps overwhelmed by the myriad of new sensations he was experiencing, the man returned with his back upright and, opening a little his knees, in order so support him better, he continued thrusting, bewitched by the lost look of the other, by his reddened cheeks and snow-white neck exposed in the umpteenth lure, avid of his tortured lips, of his sweet embrace, of his gentle soul, of him in every single aspect and in the complex.
After about ten seconds the boy turned his face, blushing with embarrassment when he realized he had been watched all the time and demurely trying to cover himself; the Boogeyman, however, didn't want to give up that wonderful vision and, stopping, he grabbed his wrists in a firm but gentle grip, whispering: «No. Let me look, Jack».
He repented almost immediately for the request, which, although it had been expressed in a calm voice, sounded more like an order, but all doubt dissolved when Jack yielded, abandoning his arms next to his face not to hide even the smallest part of his body and courageously allowing him to enjoy the sight.
Pitch immediately put his hands on his hips, starting again to penetrate him and ecstatically smiling at the loud cries he heard in response: having the permission to devour him with his eyes as he took him was the best of the concessions that he could imagine, but soon he discovered that there was another one, even more beautiful, which he had not even dared to contemplate.
Assuming a mischievous expression Frost turned his head again, covering his irises with the back of his right hand to emphasize his flushed cheeks and his half opened mouth; with the fingers of the left he faintly touched his battered jugular, passing along the sternum and the collarbone, lifting a little his chest marked with bites and bruises to expose it even more, in a clear lure to take advantage of it; finally, not content with this, it continued to move, slipping on the side, going more and more down.
For the man, this was the coup de grace: seeing him touching himself would have been the crowning achievement of a dream desired for long time, but, unfortunately, he was too close to the limit to let him do that. Turning his face he bit his lip and blinked, trying to hold himself back, but he didn't manage to; renouncing resisting he opened his irises, his mind clouded, his feral look invaded by dark tentacles, and he leapt onto the boy, like a panther on its prey.
It took to him few strong thrusts to reach the craved and long-denied orgasm: temporarily losing his sight Pitch groped, instinctively pushing himself in him to follow the hot chills that went through him until he felt all of them concentrating in the lower abdomen, and, at that point, with a liberating groan, he came, marking him intimately as to declare he was his.
He stayed focused, in order not to collapse in the moment in which he desired the boy could have shared that immense pleasure, but, feeling he had reached the orgasm without further stimulations, he reassured himself, gently sliding out of him, in order not to hurt him or make him feel a sense of nostalgia, and falling soon after.
It was with great effort that, at the last, he managed to divert, collapsing on him, but not encumbering on his chest, while he tried in vain to manage the myriad of feelings that went through him. It was true, it had happened, he had done it: he had embraced Jack in the most absolute way he could have imagined. Oh, he had desired it so much, for such a long time, he had spent whole months, after their first meeting, dreaming it, in a climax which had almost driven him crazy: at first he would have been satisfied even only with a simple hug, then with a caress, then with a kiss, in a crescendo that had almost made him want to rape him in order to claim what he craved for. He had dreamed to take him, on that bed or on another one, against any tree or wall, it had not the slightest importance where or how, he just wanted him, and it was only employing a firm self-control that he had kept from doing that. In this moment he was horrified at the thought he could had thought about violating his little snowflake like that, and he mentally thanked himself for having resisted: he would have never forgiven himself if he had destroyed him in that way.
In this way, on the contrary, it had been wonderful, sublime, to say the least: Frost had offered himself to him with total abandonment, he had opened his legs for him, gently drawing him in the embrace, he had courted him and he had let him court him in turn, sighing in unison with him and giving himself to the hilt; knowing he had been desired had been priceless and it had made the union unforgettable, complete in all its aspects, terribly satisfying.
While he was still trying to think coherently he felt the partner move a little his left arm, which the man had trapped beneath himself, then start to lightly cuddle him with his fingertips; pulling himself together the Boogeyman returned to rest on his forearms, covering the boy without even touching him, and he smiled when he saw him: Frost was literally tired, so exhausted that he wasn't even able to turn his head. He crouched over his face, wincing surprised in seeing him shivering at the mere whiff of his breath, and his expression turned immediately into a mischievous one: maybe Jack was the kind of person who becomes very sensitive after sex? He just had to find it out.
Carefully Pitch stretched out his tongue, he slowly passed it over the hickey under his left ear and he rejoiced when he heard a faint moan in response; with a sigh he began to court him, sucking the bruised jugular, sliding down to capture his left nipple with his teeth and tormenting it a little to steal him loud, lusty cries. Satisfied by having made him gasp frantically again, he went down, finally reaching his wet abdomen and starting to lick it, in order to take away that sweet and spicy nectar, as if, in this way, he could keep forever with himself a part of him.
Slightly scratching his open thighs to send him hot chills, he accurately completed the work, then he went back up to tickle his shoulder with his nose, carefully making sure not to get too close to him, in order not to make him think he would have forced him to taste his own flavour again. The boy, however, surprised him: lovingly hugging him he drew him towards him, seeking his lips and making him open them, kissing him passionately and then accepting, with a moan, his own semen into his mouth, and, although he was amazed, the man was convinced that that taste didn't bother him at all and he took over the helm again, leading him in that last languid union.
After few seconds he lost his breath and he broke the kiss: they were both tired and the boy, in particular, exhausted, as shown by his hurried pants and his liquid gaze. Letting him caress the deep scratches on his back, the Boogeyman stared at him, fascinated, and he saw the partner weakly smiling at him and do the same; timidly he let himself be captured by those two bright sapphires, following their hues, sinking into them as if they were two springs of crystal clear and purifying water, and, soon, he was no longer able to see anything except for those wonderful shades of blue.
Lost in the irises he adored so much, he winced surprised when he felt Frost's thin fingers stroking his cheek, and he shook himself just in time to see Jack moving his lips, trying to speak; going a little closer to him, in order not to make him force himself too much, he lend his ear to him and he heard him whispering in a faint voice: «I love you».
He just had the time to stare at him, with an expression of pure amazement, pierced by that statement; then the only thing he could do was watching Jack closing his eyes and falling asleep, trustfully abandoned in his arms.
I know, I know, this chapter narrates the same events of the last one, but I wrote it because I really wanted to describe you this important experience in the eyes of both Pitch and Jack (as you can notice they had very different thoughts). The italian fandom had appreciated it so much, I hope you liked it, too ^^ next chapter will be published on Saturday or before, have a nice day!