A/N: I'm pretty sure this is the chapter you've all been waiting for. :) Enjoy~

CAUTION - some heavy stuff ahead.

Standard disclaimers apply.


*A Beautiful Hunger*

Elsa was too much – too gentle, too seductive, too slow. Tremors rippled across his skin as her cold fingers pushed through his hair and lazily trailed down his neck. He realized that despite her bold words and even bolder advances, she was still holding back.

But Pitch didn't have the patience for her shyness. He pulled her hard against him, his hands fisting in the back of her dress. He kissed her hard, and Elsa froze for a moment, taken aback. Then she was kissing him with all the hunger and ferocity he saw in her eyes moments ago. She pushed her hands between them, tracing the angles of his sinewed chest beneath his cloak. Pitch shifted to cradle her hips with both hands, using the space Elsa created to press his lips against her collarbone. The soft gasp she made as Pitch's tongue darted out brought a pleased smile to his face.

"Do you feel like an adult yet, Snow Queen?" he murmured, half taunting her.

"No," she said, voice uneven. She tugged him forward to the bed and pulled him down beside her.

The ice crystals of her dress were rough against his fingers, but Pitch didn't care. His hands were insistent, tugging against the spun fabric. Elsa sighed, her back arching under his fingers. Her leg – the pale long one, the one Pitch had admired earlier – rose to cage his body against hers. She lured his lips away from her breastbone and kissed him. The ice from her breath crackled inside him again, just like the first kiss - enticing, alluring. He wanted – no, he needed more.

Her gown of ice and his cloak of shadows were easily banished. In the frigid blue light of the windowless room, Elsa looked almost luminous, her porcelain skin pure white like the snow she created. For a brief moment, Pitch hesitated. He was darkness made flesh, black as deepest night – I'll ruin her, he thought. Once I touch her, she'll be blemished. Impure. My shadows will ruin her.

And then Elsa's deep blue eyes looked into his, and Pitch knew his fear was in vain. She was ruined from the moment she called me her friend.

He tried to pace himself, but it was difficult when Elsa's breathing turned erratic, when her hands pulled him closer, closer. What undid him was her voice against his ear, a heavy "Pitch. Oh, Pitch – " that made his own breaths come fast and shallow.

And so he devoured her, body and heart. And perhaps she had stolen a part of him, too; afterwards as he leaned back on an elbow to look at her, he found himself curling a hand in the loose strands of her hair. Somehow her braid had unraveled and now it glimmered like waves of moonlight between his dark fingers.

"Wait," Elsa rasped as he began to turn away. "Stay by me."

So he rested his cheek against her smooth belly, ignoring the soft sheen of sweat that still covered both their bodies, and stared at the far wall.

Somewhere in the time that Elsa gave herself to him and he had taken her freely, she had lost control. Angular, geometric patterns raced up the walls, glittering in fresh white. And twisted against that ice, curling deftly around it, inside of it, were fingers of dark shadows.

Pitch's eyes narrowed. She wasn't the only one, he thought, frowning. But the entwined darkness and ice quickly caught his attention again. They worked well together – like two halves of a whole. It's a promise of what could be, he thought. A promise of what we could be, Elsa and I.

Together.


A/N: There will be more. :3