WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 11
"I love you". This was what Jack had told him just before he had collapsed, exhausted, with a whisper and a smile on his lips swollen from kissing. In that way, without any warning, without the slightest hesitation, as if that statement was simple and natural: for the Boogeyman, however, it wasn't simple and natural at all.
He had suddenly frozen at the sound of those three short words, and he had heard them echoing in his mind several times before he had been able to fully grasp their meaning: Jack, Jack Frost himself loved him! The boy he had so desperately dreamed, longed and chased had just given his heart in the most moving and generous way he could imagine, and not pretending anything in return, not even an answer. The man would have never expected such a generous and thoughtful gesture, not from a person apparently so frivolous, since he was devoted to jokes, and so little experienced, since he had spent almost his entire life in solitude, invisible and ignored. Exactly like Pitch, anyway. Jack, however, had been able to go further: he had fought tooth and nail to realize himself, after strenuous efforts he had succeeded, he had even become a Guardian, and, instead of going on on his way, satisfied with the results he had achieved and aiming to maintain and improve them, he had turned back, holding out his hand to comfort him and take him with him, to make him feel special, cuddled, loved.
This love explained everything that, until then, had seemed strange or incomprehensible: his expression astonished and contrite when he had attacked him from behind and in a moment of weakness, his insistence in following him, his gentleness in repeating that they shouldn't be alone, the complete lack of fear when the Boogeyman had tripped him on the bed and the fact that he hadn't tried to escape, his languid surrendering to forbidden kisses and caresses, the passion with which he reciprocated these attentions, the gift of his body only ten minutes earlier. The most important of these all, however, had been his forgiveness, that kind indulgence with which he had glossed over every torture and cruelty, beyond that painful reality towards a more balanced and sincere future, giving him a second chance to remedy all the evil he had made.
The man could hardly believe it: another chance was an absolute novelty for him, who had always been used to being judged at first glance, marked as evil and therefore persecuted. On the other hand he himself was convinced he had a soul as black as the depths of Hell, and he almost felt to deserve to be treated like a dangerous outcast: he enjoyed people's disgust and the fear he caused with his mere presence, he wrapped himself in darkness in order to strike more terror, and, because of this, he had been so incredulous in front of the courage and the ease with which Jack had faced and dissipated it. Not that, in the past, Pitch had not ever failed in frightening someone: after all, hadn't he been fighting all his life, day after day, to make everyone fear him to the point they didn't even dare to pronounce his name, except at the full sunlight? This time, however, was different.
Love... Maybe, in the distant past, when he was still a human being and not the monster that haunted the dark places, this feeling had been directed to him, maybe he himself had felt it, but now he couldn't remember anything about his previous life, exactly as it had been for his partner. It was all new for him, all curiously mysterious and interesting, and so incredibly perfect to leave him almost with tears in his eyes: love was the dream which he had never let himself hope for, the sublimation of the emotions which, in the despair of his condition, he had always felt so distant to seem almost surreal.
Frost, probably, wasn't even aware of how precious was the gift that he had given to him. Love, in fact, is the absolute feeling par excellence: stronger than thousands children screaming in fear, more powerful than millions of infants who believe, completely impossible to hinder or cancel and thoughtful support for the one who receives it. Love is not simple trust, but also dedication, sweet commitment in ensuring that the other is happy and live a full and satisfying life, and it can hardly fail, since it is often almost total abandonment; in this case, considered Jack's behaviour and the confidence with which he had let himself go in his arms, it was exactly like that.
In light of this fact Pitch could give an explanation for his sudden and significant recovering in his strength during the recent weeks: it was all thanks to Frost, his most forbidden desire and his enemy most difficult to beat. What a great irony was that he had been exactly the one who had defeated him to raise him up, and the one who had sealed his fall, after his short reign of few months earlier, with a harsh sentence to address him such kind words: as a matter of fact, the boy had shown him to have far too much power over him, in every sense.
At this point, how would things have changed between them? The Guardian and the Boogeyman would have continued to fight? Oh, yes, Pitch had no doubt about this: he would have never given up the desire to dominate the world and cancel the naïve smilies full of happiness and wonder from the children's mouths, and Jack, of course, would have never let him do that, not even if he had promised him he would have shared his throne. However, as much the man was sure the boy, during the battles, would have fought him with all his strength, always siding with the Guardians, he was as much willing to bet that, in times of peace, he would have thrown his arms around his neck, smiling with joy: Frost was so fickle and unpredictable, but definitely stubborn and determined in what he was interested into, and he had showed more than enough the interest he felt towards him.
While he focused to avoid giggling at the thought and, so, waking him up, the Boogeyman realized that he had stood motionless for the entire reflection, leaving the boy under himself, with his legs still slightly opened, and, considered the hiss which he gave off at each laboured breath, he wasn't in a comfortable position. Pitch hastened to lie down next to him, in order not to encumber him with his weight, and he settled him better, making sure that muscles and joints were relaxed, in order not to cause him cramps when he would have waken up, and reweaving the blanket of darkness to wrap him in a soft warmth.
Sighing, he paused to stare Jack: his little snowflake was so beautiful, so harmonious in every lineament relaxed by fatigue and childishly curled up in the black cloth; his, however, was not a selfish sleep: he had instinctively stretched out his arms in front of him, as if he was searching for something, and Pitch, touched, accepted the sweet lure, settling in that warm nest and hugging him.
He had been so foolish to believe he could have soiled him, foolish and blind: Frost was not like the snow that lies on the side of the road, but as one that rests on the top of the highest mountains, perfect in every single crystal and so white to dazzle. That white blanket can never be defiled, nor ruined, because it is too pure and far from earthly futility, and, if the man who yearns fails manages, after immense efforts, to reach it, he can only be enchanted by it, sinking his injured hands in it and finding them magically spotless, without the blood could contaminate the icy mantle. This was exactly what had happened to him: he had tried to corrupt his snowflake, bewitching him in every way and struggling to the point he had injured himself, but the only thing he had got was falling at his feet, finding himself purified from evil thoughts and worried about his health and safety.
Inevitably he thought about those three simple words that had sealed their embrace: Jack loved him, but what did he feel for him? Love was a feeling so strange and new for him that he seemed to almost not be able to conceive it: he saw it as something unattainable, unthinkable, too alien to his dark nature dark to concern him.
Frost sighed, catching his attention, interrupting those inconclusive reflections and giving him an excuse to let them drop; with a smile, the man began to cuddle him, enjoying the soft moans he let out and the grip in which he unknowingly wrapped him as a reward and an incitement to continue. It almost seemed that the boy was asking him not to leave, but he had nothing to fear about: Pitch would have never let his sweet, secret treasure go away, he would have always protected him, during the battles he would have ensured to fight and defeat him, but not to destroy him, and, during the moments of respite, he would have enjoyed his kisses and caresses, great consolations for the domain not conquered yet.
Feeling exhausted he rested his lips on his one last time, in a short and chaste farewell, then he leaned his head against the mattress and he closed his irises. As usual, he soon felt himself slipping into a black and anonymous oblivion, which invaded his eyes and mind, canceling every thought and feeling; shortly after, however, something broke that gloomy monotony. A being, indefinite, but brighter and brighter, emerged from the shadows, bravely making his way through the tentacles of darkness until he showed up at his sight: it was a bunny. It was incredibly small, weak and trembling, but in its sapphire irises it could be read a strong determination; with few leaps the rabbit came closer to him, then it hopped away, but it immediately turned to check his reaction. The Boogeyman took a moment to realize that it was patiently waiting for him, to guide him somewhere, but, in the end, overcoming the fear of the unknown, he smiled and followed him.
Jack woke up slowly, blinking a bit to shake off the last remnants of sleep and trying to familiarize: he was still lying prone on the threadbare mattress in Pitch's room, and he was still wrapped in the blanket of darkness that it had been woven for him, but, apparently, he was alone. While the panic was rising in him, he squirmed a little to look around; in doing so he bumped into something with his right leg, and it was with an intimate sigh of relief that, turning, he saw the Boogeyman next to him, sitting on the edge of the bed, covered only by his trousers and intent to observe him: at least on that occasion he had staid, he hadn't avoided his eyes after what they had done and he hadn't left him with the only company of endless questions and guilt.
Before he could even open his mouth he heard the man saying him with an amused smile: «You're such a late sleeper, Jack».
With a groan the boy rubbed his palms on his face and asked: «Mh, why? What time is it?».
«It's about eleven o'clock at night: your precious Christmas is almost over» replied the other.
«Dang, you're right, I slept a lot... and you?» demanded Frost.
«Me? Maybe are you wondering if I slept? Well, as far as your continuous fussing, trying to hug me and then pushing me away with your knees allowed me yes, I slept, but it was a real feat!» exclaimed the Boogeyman, feigning resentment.
«What?!»
«What do you mean with "what?"? Didn't you know that, at night, you never stay still?» asked Pitch, genuinely surprised.
«Not really. During the last three hundred years I have always slept alone, no one could tell me if I was moving or not» reasoned aloud the boy.
«Me too, actually» mused the other.
Seeing him grieving Jack started to get up and go to console him, but a stab of pain forced him to stop and let out a stifled moan.
Worried the man turned to him with a questioning look, and the boy had to confess: «Uhm, Pitch, I, well, to be sincere, my... my back hurts...» he managed finally to conclude, blushing up to the ears.
Immediately he heard an amused laugh, then he saw the Boogeyman coming closer to his face with a sly expression and whispering: «Oh, a little kid here has worn out himself in doing somersaults».
Offended and deeply embarrassed by the epithet Frost put his right hand on his cheek, to push him away, and, with an angry voice, he yelled: «I'm not a kid! Anyway, don't try to tell me that it's not your fault!».
In response the other laid on him, no encumbering in any way on him with his light weight, then he rubbed his nose along his spine and neck and he spoke.
«Oh, Jack, I could let you say that I started first, even if it's not true, but for sure it was you who said: "Ah, Pitch, more!"» he murmured, perfectly imitating his tone, but making the sentence a thousand times more sensual with his low and vibrant voice.
«I didn't say that!» shouted the boy, rightly, and he concluded: «Go away, if you are here just to tease me I will do it on my own!».
He tried to turn, but he felt the man sitting on his thighs and, when he tried to dislodge him, putting his hands on his shoulders, pushing him against the mattress and uncovering him to the waist.
Puffing he started to protest, but soon he realized that Pitch, silently, was just trying to help him: evoking some tentacles of magic sand he was massaging his, rubbing his open palms on every aching muscle and sore bone to calm him down, giving him pleasant chills at every caress and continuing until he felt him completely relaxed.
Grateful for the thoughtful cuddling Frost touched his knee and murmured: «Thank you, Pitch».
The Boogeyman leaned over the back of his head and softly whispered: «You're welcome, ardent colt».
With an exasperated snarl, the boy finally managed to shake him off, making him fall on the edge of the bed, and, with a harsh voice, he asked: «If I am an ardent colt what should you be?».
Standing up and staring at him with expert eye he answered: «What a silly question: obviously I'm the perfect Pureblood».
This time it was Jack 's turn to laugh amused and reply: «Modesty is your more evident virtue, Pitch».
«False modesty is a fault as much as pride or vanity: denying the evidence would be useless and absurd» concluded the man.
Although he wasn't convinced the guy gave up to talk and, taking advantage of the fact that the partner had his back on him, he quickly recovered his underwear and put them on; he knew that he had liberally shown himself naked to him, but now the situation was completely different: the context was not so intimate and a little embarrassment was normal, especially since the Boogeyman had already put his trousers on before he had woken up.
Carried out that he looked up and saw the other leaning forward the ground to catch his hoodie, and he couldn't hold back a little cry; at this sound the man turned, with an interrogative look, and, pointing to his back, Frost stuttered: «Oh, sorry, Pitch, I'm sorry, so sorry, I didn't want to mess it like that, your...».
«... Back?» completed in his place the partner; «Yes, you've played tic-tac-toe with it, kitten. Next time, if you want, I'll give you more sheets, so you'll scratch only them».
«I hurt you, didn't I? Forgive me: I didn't think that the mark I left you were so deep» said the boy with a sincerely sorry expression.
The man threw him his hoodie and sat next to him, then, winking, he reassured him: «No, Jack, you didn't hurt me».
Calming down Jack put on his trousers and stood up to tie them, but the other stopped him, saying: «No, wait: let me do it».
Amazed that the boy let him, allowing him to girding his sides to accommodate the cloth and carefully tie the laces on the front, and he shuddered when he felt him drawing him in a warm hug.
With a little joking tone he dared to say: «Oh, you are so sweet, Pitch».
He almost couldn't finish the sentence that he felt the partner tightening the grip and firmly biting him at the base of the neck.
«Ouch! Are you crazy?! You've surely left a mark!» he shouted, astonished and piqued that fit of violence.
«Oh, Jack, considered all the marks you've left me you certainly can't complain, and, after all, you've covered with them... and this is how it must be. Do not ever forget it: you are mine, mine and only mine» whispered Pitch with an intimate behaviour.
Despite the claim and the gesture had been too possessive Frost felt flattered by them: he wanted it to be so, he wanted to be special for him, he wanted him to always court and search for him. The fact that this involved a little abuse of power by the partner was not a problem for him: the important thing was that, sooner or later, the Boogeyman understood that the same counted for him.
Sitting on his lap he wore the hoodie and the shirt together, getting wrapped among the layers of clothes and letting the man help him to settle them, then he stood up to retrieve the laces. While he was tying them to his calves he saw the partner deftly recreating the robe with he used to wear, cutting a deep and sensual neckline on his chest, and he chuckled, amused by the fact that Pitch just couldn't help but being attractive at any time and occasion.
While he was still knelt on the floor he noticed, on the opposite corner of the room, his staff, which laid forgotten since he had dropped it, so he asked with a gentle voice: «Pitch, can you please give me my staff?».
Since he didn't hear any answer he raised his head and, amazed, he saw the man piercing him with a glaring look, staring at him with hatred and baring his teeth as if he was snarling; in explanation he said with an angry tone: «Do you think I'm such an idiot, little Jack?».
The boy couldn't help but stare at him and ask incredulously: «Why?».
With a venomous tone Pitch replied: «Do you think I don't know what will happen? Do you think I've forgotten the way you froze my hands? That little trick doesn't work on me anymore!».
Jack let out a sigh of relief and he almost laughed: he had really feared the Boogeyman had deceived him till that moment, using him and then conveniently returning evil and selfish. He gently reassured him: «Oh, Pitch, no, you don't have to fear it: it won't hurt you. As I already explained you days ago you can't steal me my staff by force, because my powers can't be yours and they rebel when you try to take them, but if you don't have evil intent nothing bad will happen. Try it».
«I repeat that I'm not stupid!» concluded the other, annoyed.
Puffing the boy stood up, picked up the staff and reached the man, handing it to him and repeating again: «Come on, try it! Don't you trust me?».
«No!» was the abrupt answer, a true bitter blow for Frost, who, however, took it, holding back the tears and continuing to insist, sending him a sorrowful but sincere smile in order to be most convincing. Seeing the partner stretching out his right hand, carefully, but staying at a safe distance, he reached him, intertwining his fingers with his ones and finally making him touch the wood.
He enjoyed all the way down his childish jolt at that contact, which had nothing painful, and the disbelief that came over his sharp face when he made sure that nothing strange was happening; few seconds later he chuckled in seeing him shake his head as if to wake up and move away angrily, muttering something about the cold and dodging his eyes, clearly embarrassed.
Shrugging his large shoulders Pitch walked into the hallway and Jack followed him, pretending his clinical attitude was due to the discomfort he had felt before and trying not to think too much; struggling a little to walk behind him across the stone halls and the immense cave adorned with stalactites and black cages, staring at his back in order not to loose him.
Suddenly, he noticed on his left side the Globe of metal, still adorned with numerous bright lights, and he slowed down a little, enchanted by them, but soon a sound brought him back to reality: the other had noticed the Globe, too, but, unlike him, he had snorted exasperated, growling and walking away in haste without looking back.
Worried the boy hastened to follow him, but he saw him dissolving and disappearing; bravely running into the darkness he groped, finally recognizing the tunnel he had used many times to enter into the Boogeyman's lair, and, flying up along it, he went out into the clearing.
He search for the partner, but, since he couldn't see him, he called: «Pitch!».
He swept the horizon for few seconds, but he immediately felt a cold shiver going up his spine, as if there were a presence lurking behind him. Springing round his suspect was confirmed: the man was leaning toward him, the usual sensual and arrogant expression on his face, and he whispered: «Tell me, Jack».
With a leap Frost instinctively jumped back, asking with an annoyed voice: «Why do you always do that?».
He was angry because he had thoughtfully rushed to comfort him and he had found himself startled by his umpteenth trick, and the answer he received didn't change his mood.
«Oh, Jack, you know: scaring is what I do best».
«That's not true, Pitch» replied the boy.
«Of course it is! And then it's my job: it is obvious that it's so natural to me, in fact, right now, I'm going to scare some lost children whom Sandman isn't keeping an eye on» concluded Pitch, with a wicked smile and an air of superiority.
With a grin half amused and half disappointing Jack stared at him, then he commented: «You are incorrigible».
They laughed in unison, even though his partner's laugh seemed too pleased to the boy, and when hilarity faded away none of them spoke. In that awkward silence Frost could not help but be silent, unable to talk, but, while his mouth didn't let out a sound, his mind was a deafening cacophony. What would have happened now? Would Pitch have gone away again? Would he have said goodbye properly or would he have disappeared after a quick greeting, like the previous times? And then, would he have come back? Would they ever have met, sooner or later? Could he ever have hugged him? And would the man have cuddled him again?
These and other thousand thoughts crowded into Frost's head with, deep or futile questions which, however, were piling up one on the other and stifling the most important one: what did Pitch feel for him?
This question overwhelmed him, leaving him trembling and weak, because, depending on the answer, his life would have changed in a radically different way. He had had a genuine and almost childlike trust in him, and, until then, he had never doubted of him, justifying in a more or less reasonable way every cruelty or act selfishness and indifference and resisting for both of them, but it was passed enough time to wear down his tenacity and tinging it of despair. At this point he endured by inertia and stubbornness, clinging to the sporadic human looks that the Boogeyman let out and ignoring his evil acts, and he knew the reason of all this: he wouldn't have handled knowing that he was used to the end. He loved him so much and he felt so whole and perfectly reciprocated that his soul would have been destroyed by the discovery that he had been courted only for profit, only in order to be corrupted so that his body was at Pitch's beck and call. Maybe he could have managed to bear the fact that the other wanted to turn him in his personal weapon, because this had been clear since the beginning, but he would have certainly fallen if he had known that their every meeting had been characterized only by pleasure, and that their last embrace had been sex and nothing else. Unfortunately, however, the behaviour that the Boogeyman had had in the last minutes make him suspect it.
Too involved in those confused thoughts he took a step, stretching out his right arm and calling the partner by name, almost without realizing it, and he shuddered when he felt him grabbing his hand with his one and looking him with an interrogative expression.
He stared at him with a bewildered look, determined not to ask him clarification about his feelings as, taken by anxiety, he had been going to do; the man, however, surprised him, acting by instinct and making him started with amazement.
With a quick movement the Boogeyman covered the distance between them and pushed his lips on his ones, hugging him tightly and pressing gently, but firmly, the palm on his neck; he stood in that position for a moment, his eyes closed, unlike the widened one of the boy, then he deepened the contact, drawing him in a passionate kiss until they were both out of breath. He broke away, panting, and, still holding Jack tightly between his arms, he stared at his irises, while a softly human light brightened his ones. After a while, however, he moved and courted, with his tongue, that little inch of tortured skin under the left lobe, until he stole him a moan, then he sensually whispered: «See you soon, Jack».
Said this he disappeared, dissolving himself into a coil of black sand which whimsically twirled itself around the boy's neck, as a final gesture of farewell, and he flew into the night.
«Pitch» murmured the boy, vainly stretching out his fingers toward an empty sky.
Pitch had been sweet at first, but he hadn't waited long to change his kindness into a sensual lust; and above all, Frost thought while a tear slid on his cheek, he hadn't answered to him.
Next chapter will be published on Wednesday or before ^^. Please, notice that I've already translated chapter 12, 13 and 14: I'm just waiting for the revision of the gentle girl who helps me. As I already told you I generally made few mistakes in my translation (about 4-6 a chapter), but I prefer to publish them only after her revision, so, please, have a little patience ^^ she's busy and, somewhen, she needs almost a week to find time for it. If I am ever late consider this, thank you. Feel free to leave a comment if you want to ^^