WE DON'T HAVE TO BE ALONE – CHAPTER 36
«Now lift her a little» politely asked Jack.
Slightly tightening his grip around Eos' chest, Bunnymund lifted her up by a couple of inches, just enough for her feet not to touch the tub water, then he demanded: «Is it enough?».
«Yes!» promptly confirmed the boy; «You exposed her well, no need to do anything more. See, I must wash her well everywhere, even under, and I manage to do that better if someone keeps her still and lifted».
«Obviously» seconded him the Pooka.
«She's really delicate here, you know?» explained Frost, bending down to gain a better view; «Sometimes I'm almost afraid to hurt her, her skin looks like a rose petal, it's... mh...».
Gradually, his voice got lost in silence, as well as his attention in the delicate task that he was carrying out, and the Easter Bunny couldn't help but feel moved in front of that scene. How sweet was it to finally see the other serene and proud, and the little girl safe and sound, and both exchanging tendernesses and attentions? How nice was it to attend the birth and the development of a relationship so old and common, and yet so new and unique? And, most importantly, how wonderful was it to be able to participate in it?
«Done!» suddenly announced the boy; «Time to rinse her».
After summarily cleaning his hands from the foam, he bent down and retrieved from under the table a small watering can, its tank bulging and its colours bright, such as those that parents use to give to their children to introduce them to the passion for gardening; gradually drawing from the cauldron placed on the ground, he filled it to the brim, then he tipped it, spraying his daughter with a gentle stream of warm water.
Aware that Eos and her well-being came first, Bunnymund didn't get surprised when he felt the liquid trickling down his paws, nor he complained about the fact Jack made no attempt to avoid it; when, however, he saw him voluntarily insisting precisely on that area, he dared to ask: «Jack, do you really need to keep going here? This part seems clean now to me».
In response, keeping an impassive face, the boy stretched out, and began to consciously water his arms.
«What are you doing!?» snapped the Pooka.
Hindered by the infant, he awkwardly backed, sweeping the bunches of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling and crashing a pile of pails; realizing he was almost with his back on the wall, he leaped to the side, and attempted to circumvent the table, however ending up running around it, chased by his friend and always keeping the child raised in front of himself; concluding that the best thing to do was, while politely and gracefully, getting rid of her, he slipped under the desk and placed her in the half empty washbowl, but at that point the room was already flooded, and his hair was in the same identical conditions.
«What the hell, now I'm all wet!» complained the Easter bunny, sadly crouching on the ground.
Rolling on the boarding together with the watering can, Frost let out a loud laugh, then he replied: «But Eos love when it's all wet! Right, Eos? Huh? Isn't right that you like to play with water until you wet even the ceiling?».
As understanding the solicitation, Eos shrieked with joy and clapped her open palms on the water, making it splash around.
«See?» insisted the boy, blatantly ignoring his colleague's discontent; «She has the time of her life with water. You should see her at the thermal baths then! Did you know that, as soon as I dive her, she begins to move her legs and arms as if to swim, and if I let her go for a while she manages to splash around, and almost to keep afloat? I never thought that that was possible! But Pitch explained me that this ability is quite normal in babies».
Overlooking that last revelation, which he would have preferred to attend to, rather than hearing a theoretical explanation about, Bunnymund demanded: «At the thermal baths? Why did you bring her there?».
«Pitch took her there first» answered Jack, crawling up to his daughter to assist her; «My powers had just suddenly returned and I was out to vent them, he found himself alone with Eos and, you know, probably, given the fact he hadn't get used to her yet, the fatigue and the chaos here at the Palace, and then all the responsibilities, he had to make her her first bath! He surely felt under pressure, and he preferred to go to the thermal baths. It was a good idea, however, because he relaxed, Eos had fun, and they could know each other and begin to establish a good relationship together».
Perhaps pleased by that awareness, perhaps delighted by the sight of the girl busy wallowing, he dropped his speech to show a broad smile, and he lingered playing in turn; touched by the scene, the Pooka didn't even consider the idea of insisting to make him continue, and he approached the couple, gradually craning his muzzle to insert himself. Squinting, he plunged into the chaos of laughs and drops, shaking his whiskers whenever he got hit and responding with blows with his paw to the liquid surface, and rejoiced in realizing he resulted not only not unwelcome, but even desired by both sides, fully enjoying that moment of pure hilarity.
«Oh, sorry, in the end I didn't answer!» suddenly exclaimed the boy; «What a scatterbrain I am, huh? However, I was saying, when Pitch told me that I got curious, and I wanted to see with my own eyes what happened, when we tried it again Eos enjoyed it so much, and she let us washing her throwing fewer tantrums, then, since that day, we take advantage of that, trying to go to the thermal baths as often as we can to spend a nice time all together».
At first amused by the distracted and confused attitude of the other, the Easter Bunny was tempted to tease him; when Frost, however, continued, demonstrating all the enthusiastic affection he felt for the creature he had given life to, and, more generally, the determined passion in playing his role as a parent, he didn't have the heart to, and countered: «In a sense, you had already answered me, but I was pleased to know more. Why didn't you bring her to the thermal baths today, since she like that so much?».
At that simple question, Jack clouded over, looking down to the puddle he had created on the boarding, and he confessed: «I don't feel safe going there alone. I could tell you that the heat often makes me feel dizzy and lose strength, but the truth is that I'm terrified of drowning. The water is not my element. Only if Pitch is with me I can overcome fear».
The revelation struck Bunnymund, who didn't expect neither such an intimate admission, nor such an ancient fear, and, suddenly, he felt closer to the other, not completely understood, but certainly enough similar not to be totally alien to him. Raising his hair a little to follow the chills of that awareness, he basked in it, then he softened his gaze and, lying a paw on his friend's shoulder, he consoled him, revealing him: «Neither I am a great lover of water, you know? I understand you well».
Grinning, the boy replied: «What a pity, you're so cute when you're soaked».
«Said the drowned rat!» retorted the Pooka.
He didn't miss the short tongue Jack stuck out, such as he hadn't missed the gaze of deep gratitude the boy had sent him earlier, and he knew for certain that he had acted in the best way on both occasions; eager to prolong the game of tricks and complicity, he grabbed a sponge and threw it to him, but the victim didn't follow the provocation, and, after deftly dodging the blow, he announced: «Enough. We've been quite lucky, since Eos didn't throw any tantrum, better not pulling the rope and overexciting her, or she'll never get out of there. Would you like to help me with the towels?».
«Of course» readily agreed the Easter Bunny.
After helping Jack to take his daughter in his arms and stand up, he vigorously shook himself, stretching as much as he could to make sure to well raise his fur and, thus, free it from as much water as possible; resigning himself to tolerate the residual moisture, he crawled out from his useless hiding place and looked around to make up his mind about what to do, then he headed towards the shelved wall to retrieve a clean towel. He took a few seconds to choose among the dozens present, by himself inclined to grab a random one, but, a bit for anxiety, a bit for emulation, induced to study it carefully before approving it, and when he found it, the softest among the softest, he unrolled it, shaking it out a little to remove the sharp wrinkles while bringing it to his friend.
«Oh, yes, perfect!» commented the boy as soon as he saw him coming; «That's the softer cloth North has, the best for Eos. Did you choose it on purpose? You've been so kind!».
«That's nothing» evaded Bunnymund, spreading a bit his ears.
Slightly embarrassed by the compliment, as well as hindered by the situation, he handed the towel to his friend and withdrew, looking for a secluded spot from which to observe without disturbing; before he could get away more than a step, however, Frost called him back, and asked: «Would you like to wipe her? Only if you feel comfortable with it, obviously!».
Gasping in surprise, the Pooka came forward, completely forgetting to respond, since the proposal had involved him so much, and approached the child from a side; shivering, he bent down on the changing table on which she was sitting, and sniffed her a little, wrinkling his nose every time she turned and touched him; finally, grabbing a piece of cloth, he began to gently blot the skin.
«Bunnymund» urged the boy in a mocking tone; «She doesn't bite, you know?».
After letting out a yowl in a low voice, the Easter Bunny countered: «First you talked my head off, explaining me that she's delicate, that she must be handled with care and treated with kindness, and now you mock me? For all the eggs, I'm just trying to do a good job without hurting her, don't you see how much she's moving!?».
As further proof of this, at that precise moment Eos squealed and hurled on the paw which was looking after her, kicking and risking almost to tip over in the attempt of freeing it from the cloth which hid it.
«See!?» piled it on Bunnymund, pointing at her as he supported her.
«Oh, Bunnymund, it's always so funny teasing you! You're so touchy, never once you fail to give me satisfaction!» exclaimed Jack, tears in his eyes.
Vexed by the joke, the Pooka pricked up his ears and barked: «You idiot!».
Blatantly ignoring his friend's laughter, he went back to work, struggling against those little fingers which did everything to hinder him and get him to play; soon, however, other fingers stopped him, longer, but almost as thin, gently wrapping around his stubby phalanges, and a gentle voice whispered: «Come on, don't get angry: I just wanted to make you relax a bit. You did a great job with Eos, and I appreciate it. Ah, look how she's laughing, she appreciated it, too! Now we'll dress her, but first I have to put her the diaper on. Can you hand me the baby powder and the argan oil? They're on the shelf above you».
Although touched by the compliment, the Easter Bunny made sure to show a deeply offended expression, both as he retrieved the requested items and as he laid them on the table; sulking, he watched the colleague finishing sweeping his daughter, rested her on a clean cloth and gave her a few moments of amusement, among tickling pinches and funny faces; finally, smoothing his frown, he volunteered himself, asking: «Is there anything I can do?».
«Oh, you are really helpful!» commented the boy; «But you've already drenched all your hair, I'd hate that you'd grease it, or cover it in dust. Don't worry, just watch from there».
Raising a dazzling smile, he slightly moved his friend away and grabbed the argan oil bottle; after pouring a small amount of it on his palms, he heated it up, rubbing them one against the other, then he distributed it on the child's torso and limbs with gentle, circular motions, until it completely absorbed; finally, not before cleaning himself in his shirt, he grabbed the powder puff, and began to bad it on the newborn's butt.
«You humans are so strange» muttered Bunnymund, partly fascinated, partly confused by all those operations.
«Why?» demanded Frost, dazed.
«All these complications to wash yourself and get ready, when a few licks would be enough to settle yourself perfectly» candidly declared the Pooka.
Instantly, the boy burst into a laughter, soon followed by Eos who, although she couldn't understand the topic, never had problems in getting infected by others' hilarity, and he exclaimed: «But can you imagine her, all sticky and with those four hairs she has on the head combed head upwards? It would be such a sight! Better not trying, though. After all, fighting against water, soap, towels, baby powder and oil has its own charm, hasn't it? If you don't have fur, of course. Sorry, I'm almost done: I only have to put her the diaper on and dress her and then she'll be ready. Be patient just for a moment».
Fearing he had been misunderstood, the Easter Bunny hastened to specify: «No, Jack, I was joking! Don't rush, take all the time you need».
He worried a little when the other, instead of answering, had his shoulders on him, frantically fumbling in a drawer, as if he felt under pressure, and he was about to pull his shirt to clarify the misunderstanding; as soon as Frost, however, turned, showing an expression serious, but calm, the Pooka realized he was not in a hurry, but just focused, and he cheered up, letting him. A bit to give him room, a bit because he was actually little interest in those technical issues which, hampered by his large paws, he could have never been able to take care of, he began to look around, casually lingering on the chaos which ruled the room, on the carvings which decorated its wooden walls and on the windows, at that time rigorously sealed, which lit it up, and he asked himself: what could they have done next? Staying together was granted, at least for a few hours, if possible for the whole afternoon, but, exactly considering this, it was necessary to find a good pastime to have fun. Did Jack have something in mind? Maybe he would have taught him how to prepare the milk for Eos, and he would have allowed him to hold her and give her the bottle? Maybe the baby girl needed to take a nap, and the guy would have asked him for help to make her sleep, leaving her in his care until her awakening? Or, maybe, he would have tried to involve everyone in a game? But if wasn't so? What if Frost still hadn't come up with anything? Wouldn't it be a nice gesture, from his part, as newcomer in this magnificent relationship, suggesting something? Wouldn't it be a nice gesture, from his part, as a guest, hosting, and inviting the parent and the daughter to his den to spend an exciting and, at the same time, quiet day, away from the problems and, therefore, next to the solution to that approach for him not yet fully happened?
«Finished!» emphatically announced the boy; «Our little Eos is ready».
Absently scratching his head, as if trying to bring order to his own thoughts, Bunnymund turned, and when he saw the girl, he gasped: he would have never expected that beauty and sweetness could be blended in such perfection. Her restless feet, as always shifting, were protected by tiny shoes, of flat-suede on the plant and white, shiny satin on the inset, her torso and legs were covered with a beautiful dress, consisting of several, candid layers, overlapped from the softest and warmer one to the lighter and more transparent one, and closed on the chest and the arms by silver tapes, her head was wrapped by a pretty bonnet, softened by lax folds and trimmed with broderie anglaise, and not a focal point was devoid of thin embroideries and delicate laces, elegantly distributed to adorn without weighting down, and yet they weren't her clothes, although unquestionably magnificent, to dazzle, but the creature who wore them, so radiant to seem shining on her own. Not an inch of her ivory skin, whose colour was perfectly enhanced by the same, but colder, tone of the fabric which embraced her, had redness or imperfections, not a corner of her face sullen or melancholic wrinkles, and not a mottle of her big eyes something other than pure joy: it was evident that, even through countless adventures, she was born out of pure love, and bred with pure love, and therefore only pure love she could effuse.
«She's beautiful, Jack» he commented, bending an ear.
«Isn't she?» repeated Jack, settling her hat; «You can't imagine how many times I get lost as I watch her! Pitch, then, knows to dress her like a princess».
Although he had understood the reference, the Pooka couldn't refrain himself from asking: «Pitch? Did he choose the clothes?».
«Oh, yes» promptly replied the boy; «I'm totally incapable in that area! Rather than dressing her up, I cover her, and rather randomly: if rompers didn't exist, I'd be cooked! Could you believe that, when Eos was three days old, I put on her feet two socks of different colours? Pitch was almost horrified, he gave me a real mouthful!».
Despite the other seemed amused by that memory, the Easter Bunny got annoyed, and retorted: «There's no need to humble yourself, nor to praise Pitch as if he was the only capable person on the whole planet».
Gasping in amazement, Frost pointed out: «But I'm doing neither of those things, actually. I'm objectively unable to choose some nice clothes for Eos, while Pitch is objectively skilled in this: what's the harm with telling the truth? I don't mind admitting my shortcoming, because I'm not particularly interested in clothes, and I'm happy to give Pitch his credits, because he's helping me a lot in taking care of the child, and complimenting him is the least I can do to repay him, and because I love supporting him in his passions, as he does with me in mine».
Bunnymund, however, had got too nervous by the earlier affirmation, and, in general, by the subject of the discussion, and so, almost without realizing it, he barked: «Poppycocks! You don't have shortcomings, the problem is that he has too many manias!».
He regretted a little having blurted out, not so much for what he had said, which he anyway considered true, but for the way he had done it, overly aggressive compared to the placidity with which his friend had spoken; the latter, however, surprised him, casting him a glance more curious than angry, and questioning him in a quiet tone: «Bunnymund, what's the real problem? Or, better yet, why is Pitch the real problem? What did he do so terrible for you to consider him such a hateful person?».
And, instantly, the Pooka froze. From one point of view, he could tell he had been waiting for centuries that question; from another one, that he would have never expected it; from yet another, that he would have never wanted to expect it. He had asked himself that umpteenth times in the past, in some moments on the wave of rage, in some of sadness, and, drifting from one or the other, he had never had big problems in finding an answer, angry, sure, even violent, but perfectly justified; for eons the equilibrium had remained unchanged, horrible, but balanced, the hatred well distributed between the two parties and, therefore, not needing to be re-discussed or reformed; then, suddenly, everything had been subverted. To be honest, he would have had to admit that the first evolution had taken place a dozen decades ago, when, in a feeble attempt to crush the Guardians, Pitch had exposed himself and proven not to remember anything of his life before their come; the most shocking revolution, however, dated back just a year earlier, and had been so drastic to be undeniable. Yes, it was so, whether he liked it or not, he couldn't deny it: the Boogeyman had changed. He hadn't become good, he could have never, but he had transformed, bringing out his human side, indulging in merciful acts, showing compassion, understanding, love: in short, doing everything before he had always showed to despise, and, therefore, questioning the basis of the Easter Bunny's mentality. Oh, he had been good to keep this hesitation cool, he had worked so hard to remain polemic and contentious, always ready to air the old enemy's flaws not to have to look at his virtues, always ready to sow discord to conceal the chaos which harboured in his heart, but how long he could have continued? Already on several occasions he had given in, and not because he had been forced, but because he had got moved, and yet, when the kind gesture had ended, and the gallery had closed behind him, he had always found himself shaken, insolubly torn between the ancient mourning and the recent affection, and unable to reconcile them.
«Bunnymund, are you okay? Did I say something wrong?» called him the friend in a worried tone.
Two blue irises stared at him, suspicious, alarmed, frightening him with their clarity, which seemed to inspect his soul, and yet irritating him with their ignorance, and for a moment Bunnymund was about to burst, breaking the silence that, more or less involuntarily, he had maintained, and throwing at him all the weight of the unspoken truths about his childhood, and the cruelty with which this had been torn apart; then, however, other two looked at him, of the colour of the universe, the past one, so regretted, the present one, so painful, the future one, so uncertain, but, because of this, potentially so joyful, and he finally came to a conclusion: the Golden Age was over, but, perhaps, also the Age of Terror could be considered ended.
«He's Pitch, isn't he? I don't need a reason to be angry at him».
He realized he had sounded a little stiff, his voice croaking, his pupils distant, but, in those conditions, he couldn't have done better; fortunately, his lucky stars looked down at him, and Frost, instead of investigating further, commented: «You silly! You're always the same. And, for the record, the same as Pitch».
The relief of having been believed, and therefore of having gained time to bring order to his conscience and heart, far outweighed the resentment which such an accusation could cause him, so the Pooka had no difficulty in refraining himself from grumbling; focusing on Jack and Eos' radiant faces, he managed to pull himself together enough, and, feeling a bit better, he decided to submit the proposal he had conceived a few minutes before.
«Jack, did you already thought about what to do this afternoon?».
Tilting his head, the boy answered: «Oh, right today?».
«Yes» confirmed the Easter Bunny, a little tense; «I know it's still early, but, indeed, this means that there's plenty of time, then, I don't know, I was thinking that, maybe, if you like it, and when you've finished preparing Eos, it might be nice going on a trip...».
«... with the family, at the little park I just went to check, for example. Yes, I think that would be very nice» sharply interrupted him a voice.
Dumbfounded, Bunnymund turned, and found himself, less than a foot far from his face, in front of Pitch, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed and his lips puckered in a silent snarl.
«It's you» simply said the Pooka, his gaze impassive.
«Congratulations for the ability in recognizing me» replied the Boogeyman in a provocative tone.
«Do not start!» promptly silenced them the boy; «Bunnymund, I'm sorry, but this afternoon Eos and I already have a commitment with Pitch. Our first and last trip didn't go very well, and we weren't happy about that, so we arranged to repeat it today, in a place even safer. Is it okay, for you, if we meet later, or directly tomorrow? What did you have in mind?».
Taken aback by the news, which had broken the eggs in his basket ¹, the Easter Bunny didn't feel like insisting, and replied: «No, nothing special, don't worry».
Showing a doubtful expression, Frost murmured: «Are you sure? It doesn't seem so... You shouldn't be shy, I'm happy to talk about it! Think about it while I go changing my clothes. Pitch, can you make me the shorts of that last time? Mine are all wet, and also too warm».
«Of course» readily conceded Pitch, evoking a handful of magic sand.
After waiting for his partner to shape the desired object, the boy grabbed it and rushed to the door, shouting: «I'll get the shirt! Be right back!».
Eager to prolong the pleasant conversation as much as possible, Bunnymund waited, nervously scratching his neck and making his eyes jump from Eos, at that time busy studying with wonder her father's hand, to the door and back; soon, however, discomforted by the presence of the latter, and realizing that two more words would have ended up only increasing the embarrassment without letting him achieve what he wanted, he threw in the towel, and announced: «I leave you alone».
Incredibly, Pitch refrained himself from any comment, simply casting him an impassive look before finally turning to his daughter, and that made the Pooka, who, at that time, could only dream such a self-control, even more nervous, if possible; forced to swallow the bitter pill, he hissed: «Have a nice afternoon».
And, without looking back, he walked away, not so much offended by the Boogeyman's veiled rudeness, which he had get used to, but by the fact he had been unceremoniously excluded.
«Pitch...? Pitch!» suddenly snapped Jack.
Wincing, Pitch replied: «What?».
Then, however, he resumed looking around suspiciously. Having found Bunnymund at his return, busy not only interacting with Eos, but even looking after her and about to suggest a private trip, had irritated him not little, seeing him leaving, considering his angry expression, hadn't reassured him in the least, and so, since that moment, he had decided to monitor the surroundings, at first keeping an eye on the various corridors of North's Palace, then scrutinizing the many hills of the pleasant park he had chosen with his partner.
«Would you mind listening to me?» asked him the boy, annoyed.
«I'm listening» countered the man, his pupils turned towards the sparse woods which bordered the path.
«So, what did I just say?» questioned him Frost, his expression more resentful than challenging.
Painted into a corner, Pitch prevaricated, and declared: «I haven't heard. Repeat it».
Snorting, the boy repeated: «I was exhorting you to enjoy the trip. I would like to spend a nice afternoon playing with you and Eos, not running after you while you look around suspiciously. What's the matter? This little park is isolated and closed to the public, nobody will come to disturb us, and, even if that happened, we can always just stay on our own, or move to another corner. You know, I think we shouldn't let ourselves be too influenced by...».
In that instant, the branches of a low and thick bush moved, without, however, any animal coming out from them, and so the Boogeyman cried: «It moved!».
Gently, but firmly, pushing away his lover, he lunged toward it, shifting its fronds with a slap and beginning to rummage among its leaves, and the boy, puzzled, exclaimed: «What just got in your mind!? It must have been a squirrel, or a bird, you don't need to overreact like this!».
«It was something bigger» sharply retorted the man, continuing his frantic search.
Initially, considering the silence which fell, Jack seemed to give up any protest, perhaps even to withdraw to protect himself; after a while, however, he recovered, and, proving he hadn't been convinced in the least, he demanded in a suspicious tone: «Pitch... are you looking for Bunnymund?».
«Yes» confessed, without hesitation, Pitch.
«I cannot believe it!» burst the boy.
Angered by his blindness, the Boogeyman turned and barked: «You can't believe it? But haven't you seen him while he was with you? Haven't you noticed how intrusive he was? He snooped so much he was even wet and dirty with talcum powder, and, in case you hadn't realized that, he was going to propose you to spend the afternoon in his Den!».
Shifting Eos from his left shoulder to the right one, Frost pointed out: «No, Pitch, I haven't only seen him: I watched him. Bunnymund may seem gruff, but he's actually a gentle creature, affectionate and sensitive, just like you. He hasn't been intrusive: I myself suggested him to participate in the bath. And the invitation to his Den, which, for the record, no, I hadn't guessed, was surely only a gesture of courtesy».
Not willing at all to give up, the man chose to play the fear card, real ace in the hole for him, and he revealed him: «You weren't there when he left, but I assure you that he was angry and offended like never before, and that he cast a murderous look at me and Eos. He's envious, and beyond measure».
Raising his head while he gave few caresses to his daughter, the boy conceded: «I believe you. Without problems. Bunnymund is very touchy, he may have got offended because I haven't told him about our plans before, and I'm not going to deny it. However, I can also assure you that he's an insecure creature, especially when Eos is involved, so that's not really envy, but only panic. Trust me, Pitch: he loves her and respects us as her parents, he would never try to put a spoke in our wheels»
«But today he did!» insisted Pitch.
«Because he felt cornered!» explained Jack, his eyes clear and almost pleading; «He was already agitated because he had washed Eos, then he also had had to gather the courage to invite us to his Den, it's logical he got nervous when, without warning, we told him we had other plans in mind! He's not envious, Pitch: he's just a little insecure».
Huffy, the Boogeyman countered: «How the hell could I be sure about that?».
«Do you trust me?» replied the boy; «Do you trust me if I say that I'm sure there's nothing to fear from Bunnymund, and that I'm also talking with him about this matter, and Eos, and you, and that he is proving to be mature and respectful?».
The man felt a slight pang in his heart, the memory of a question identical, but passed, become suddenly vivid and painful in his mind, and, determined not to disappoint his lover again, he answered: «Yes. Yes, I trust you».
Holding out his free hand toward him, Frost urged him: «Then get away from that bush, and enjoy a serene afternoon with us. Please».
And so it was that Pitch abandoned his hunt, and never saw the emerald iris voraciously peeping through the thicker leaves.
A neutral and blurred background, sometimes still, sometimes in motion. Bright green blocks on the foreground, stacked. In the distance, noises and muffled grunts. Nearby, the voice of the boy so affectionate who've been taking care of her since she remembered, even when she still lived in that warm and deadened world in which she did nothing but sleeping. She liked him. A lot. He had big eyes, of which, if only she had been able, she could have counted the flecks, and a mouth so soft, always ready to give her kisses, and then, a smell so good. Fresh. She liked also the smell of the other, though. That tall, tall one, and dark, who had come to fetch her from the bright room which had frightened her so much, and to with he had never brought her again. She didn't like to remember that place, where she had felt so alone. She preferred the present, of pampering and smiles. Fortunately, she was already forgetting it.
«Eos!» exclaimed the boy.
Rubbing her own nose, the girl turned. It wasn't yet clear to her the meaning of that word, "Eos"... however, she had noticed everyone pronounced it when they wanted her attention, and then she, as the good girl she was, every time gave it to them. The boy was still talking. He was so funny. Why, every time, he threw himself in infinite series of articulated sounds? One day she should have tried. She would have definitely enjoyed that. Maybe, she would have also been able to converse with him, of snorts and babbling. But not now. She didn't want to. What was he trying to do? Oh, yes: the tower. He crawled around it, pointed at it, then, probably, he was referring to that. He was also handing her a block, indeed. That tower was so cute. It could grow and shorten. But she preferred it when it became high. She took the piece which had been offered to her. She reached over and placed it on the top. Now, it was a little higher. But not enough. Around, however, there were no other blocks. What could she do to go on? It would have been a pity stopping at that point. On closer view, however, the blocks at the base were now useless. They stood down there, when they could have been on top. Yes, it was definitely better moving them. She took two of them, to be faster. The tower began to sway. The affectionate boy twitched. Suddenly, the wind came. Just a gust, not too strong, smelling freshly. It crashed down the tower. What a funny event! It had been a real show! The boy, however, had a strange expression. He wasn't crying, but not even laughing. What was going on? Ah, no, there was his smile, there his laughter burst! It had just taken him a few moments more.
Crawling, the boy joined her. He murmured something, but she didn't understand. He gave her a kiss on the nose, and she understood that well, and returned it, although he hadn't yet learned to do it as the others, and she couldn't smack her lips. Then, the other crawled away. The girl looked at him. Considering his moves, he seemed determined to retrieve all the blocks, which were scattered in a large area, even up to the Yetis' work tables. The boy was aiming right at them. She hesitated. She wasn't afraid of the Yetis, indeed, she found them really nice, with their big, hairy faces, but only when they played with her, and she knew that, at that time, they could not. Wandering among them as they worked seemed to be a very tedious task. Better exploring around. She turned. She began to crawl like the boy: first the right hand, then the left one... no, she was about to slip with her belly on the ground. She tried again: first the right hand, then the right knee... better, but quite uncomfortable. She tried again: first the right hand, then the left knee, then the left hand, then the right hand, but only slightly advanced, then the right knee, which had remained far behind, and so on. It looked complicated, it confused her a little, but the boy managed to do that so well, why shouldn't she have succeeded, too? She just needed to insist. Certainly, it was much less tiring than hopping on the butt. One attempt after the other, she came to the edge of the hall, right in front of a door ajar. She crept through the split, pushing a little to widen it. She found herself in front of another room, smaller, but equally uninteresting: all of the same brown colour, with a fireplace and a closed window. She began to study it. Usually, pretty things were placed high up on those shelves out of her reach, but maybe this was her lucky day, and she would have found something to play with. A few yards away from herself she saw a box. She reached it. She climbed over it, laboriously, panting for the effort to stretch those arms still too short, but at the end, surprise! It was full of lovely round objects of a thousand colours. She tried to grab one, but she found it difficult to grip, and, when she managed to, it budged not even an inch. She tried another, then another, but the situation didn't change. She began to get bored. Perhaps, it was better to look elsewhere. Her curiosity, however, was great, so she decided to indulge one last look. And there she saw it. An object quite small, glossy, elongated, with a dark tip. The latter fascinated her. She touched it. It gave her a strange feeling, almost stinging. She looked at her fingertip. It had turned red. It had never happened. That little thing seemed to be really special. Mysterious. Interesting.
«I caught you!» exclaimed Jack.
Puffing and stumbling, he crawled out from under the bench, then he stood up and triumphally raised the building block he had just retrieved. It had taken a few minutes to him to gather them all, and he had struggled not little, considering that, urged by haste and fear, he hadn't managed to control how he wanted the wind gust he had evoked to save Eos from a sure scare and probable bruises, and so he had found himself digging in unexpected places, but in the end, with that last, rocambolesque slide, he had completed his mission, and he could consider himself satisfied.
With a smile and the frontal part of his blouse folded as a pocket and filled with blocks, he walked toward the corner which, until a few minutes before, he shared with Eos, but he didn't see her; not worried at all, he sought her with his eyes as he emptied the load on the floor, and, not finding her, he shouted: «Did someone see Eos, by any chance?».
Instantly, the whole Globe Hall mobilized, interrupting the work to look around and talk animatedly, and the boy, amazed, hastened to reassure those present, exclaiming: «Guys, there's no need to get alarmed! I asked you if you had seen her only to waste less time, there's no need for you to drive yourself crazy to find her! I'll look for her: she can't have gone far. Don't worry, keep working on your projects».
He stood motionless for a few moments, raising the more serene and convincing expression he could to dissuade the hairy giants from bustling over; then, as soon as he saw them shaking their heads and getting back to their duties, he imitated them, and began to look around. Where could the baby be? The narrow and low places seemed not to draw her much, so it was pointless probing the hollows under the benches and behind the columns. Maybe she had sneaked in North's laboratory, nearby, whose door was opened in a slit large exactly as her butt?
Chuckling at the idea of his daughter busy in the most absurd contortions just to pass, he advanced, pushing the door just enough to slide inside and slithering cautiously along the wall to surprise her, and, indeed, he spotted her, sitting on the ground, but, unfortunately, he was the one who got surprised: the newborn's limbs, in fact, were completely flayed.
«Eos!» shouted Frost.
Horrified and desperate, he rushed towards her, not knowing what to do, but determined to try anything to help her, and, albeit in a panic, he was astonished to notice the floor perfectly clean; repeating himself that everything would have been fine, he studied her closely, and was stunned to find her happy, and her skin perfectly intact; now completely disoriented, he touched her, but at that point it was Eos herself to offer the solution to that macabre puzzle, offering him an object he would have never expected to see in her hands: a big, dark red marker.
Sensing his own muscles becoming limp, the boy collapsed, tears in his eyes and, on his lips, a confused mantra of thanks to everyone and none, because nothing, nothing in his whole life had ever relieved him more than discovering that what he had mistaken for blood and meat was, actually, simple ink; shortly after, however, he realized the danger wasn't over yet, both because the dye, judging by the smell, seemed to be quite aggressive, and because his daughter placidly kept spreading it on her epidermis, so, gathering his strength, he took the object away from her, threw it in a box beside himself and whispered: «Oh, Eos... what got in your mind?».
Slipping silently through the gap between the cabinet and the wall, Pitch reached the room he shared with Jack and materialized, finding, however, himself completely alone. He was taken aback a little by the other's absence, because, considering what time it was, he expected to surprise him on the bed, busy pampering their daughter to relax her and prepare her for the night rest, but not too much, because he was aware that, with a baby, accidents were always lurking, so, without questioning himself further, he shrugged and started to search them. First, assuming the couple had lingered to play, he went to Globe Hall, but he found only toys lined up drying, and a pile of building blocks left on the floor; imagining that Eos had get unexpectedly hungry, he visited the kitchen, where the clatter of dishes and the rattle of pans overwhelmed him, but where no familiar face peeped among the Yetis' grim, hairy ones; run out of ideas, he swerved toward the bathroom, and, when he reached the treshold, he smiled: the partner was right in front of him, his back on him, and, judging by how wet he was, he was washing the child.
«Finally I found you» he announced.
Turning, his head bowed and his eyes teary, Frost simply replied: «Hi».
Worried, the Boogeyman asked: «Jack, what's wrong? Why that funeral face?».
Trembling a little, the boy answered in an emphatic, but cracked, tone: «Look!».
Even more alarmed than before, the man approached him and, following his gestures, he began to observe his daughter, quietly sitting in the water-bowl and busy bursting the soap bubbles; moved, he lingered to play a bit with her, pushing the froth towards her chest, and when the baby girl, over-excited by his presence, raised her arms, he realized that they were covered in strange, pink marks.
«What happened to her arms?» he asked, dumbfounded.
«She painted herself with a permanent marker!» explained Jack in a flutter; «We were playing with building blocks, piling them to make a tower, she's good at it, you know? She likes it when it grows very high. We had finished the pieces, she got one from the basis to continue and, obviously, the tower was about to crash on her, in order to avoid that I evoked a gust of wind, but in that way I scattered the blocks all around, then I started to pick them up and it wasn't easy at all, some had slipped in absurd places, but I swear, I did that very quickly, but when I came back she was gone, therefore I started to look for her and I immediately understood she had entered in North's laboratory, then I sneaked in, too, and there she was...like this... all dirty. She even took off the socks and rolled up her rompersuit sleeves and legs to colour herself, she brushed the marker everywhere on her skin, even among a finger and the other, I don't know how she managed not to paint her face, too...».
As soon as he heard the first sentence, Pitch, intimately, breathed a sigh of relief: he had expected to face a serious problem, perhaps not completely solvable, maybe even caused by the hideous Man In The Moon, not some marks of indelible ink. As the speech progressed, however, he began to feel the other's discomfort, his voice too high, his sentences too hasty, his movements too sharp, and he distinctly sensed waves of fear emanating from his mind, so, putting two and two together, he asked him: «Jack, was the marker red?».
After a few failed attempts, the boy answered: «Yes».
Realizing what a terrible experience it had been, for his lover, to find their daughter in those conditions, and what an effort he had had to do to recover and help her, the Boogeyman wrapped him in a hug, and whispered: «I'm really sorry, baby».
Initially, Frost struggled to maintain his self-control, trembling and clearly tempted to escape that affectionate grip; at last, however, he managed to let himself go, both physically, his back against the partner's chest, and mentally, and he stammered: «It's been horrible! She seemed flayed, and covered in blood, and she wasn't crying, Pitch, she wasn't crying, just like you when Behemuth pierced you! I felt so relieved when I realized she had just coloured herself with a marker... It took me a while to recover and realize I'm a real idiot. Better painted than wounded, surely, but this ink is aggressive, it penetrated into her skin, and I can't remove it. All because I lost sight of her. I should have imagined that three or four minutes could have been enough. If she had pulled towards herself a crate, or a hammer, she would have died there, and alone, while I was playing under the Yetis' tables like a fool».
Annoyed by his attitude, the man countered: «Jack, that's enough. I understand that what you experienced has upset you, but you're exaggerating: insulting yourself is not the right solution. You've lost sight of Eos, that's evident, but only for a short time, and in a safe environment, and, moreover, to work for her; the fact that, meanwhile, she decided to sneak away and get in trouble doesn't make you a bad parent. In the future, perhaps, try to be a bit more careful, and do not hesitate to call Voluptas when you're busy, but this time nothing serious happened, so don't stress yourself further».
«That's not true, the ink doesn't get out!» insisted the boy.
«What have you tried to do?» questioned Pitch, quiet.
«I washed her» replied Jack; «Twice. Every time I left her in the water and I continued to slowly rub the soap on her skin until it wrinkled, then I pulled her out and dressed her up, waiting for her skin to return normal to start again. The marks have faded a lot, but they haven't disappeared, and they don't seem about to: I don't know what else to try».
Scratching his chin, thoughtfully, the Boogeyman suggested: «It's possible that you haven't managed to completely clean the skin because, in the meanwhile, it has got dehydrated, so we might try to use argan oil. I'd cover her with a generous amount, much more abundant than we usually do, and then I'd wipe her with cotton balls or gauze. In the worst case it won't work, but it surely won't do bad. However, since the marker is North's, I think the smartest thing to do is asking him for advice».
«No!» she boy shouted, wriggling; «I worked so hard to get here without being seen by anyone, there's no way I'll ever confess this disaster!».
«But why!?» snapped the man.
«Because I was a fool to let that happen and I feel embarrassed!» insisted Frost.
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Pitch was about to retort, reiterating that it was not absolutely the case to humble himself in that way, that what had happened was undoubtedly solvable and that the partner, that afternoon, had done a great job with Eos, as always; when he crossed his gaze, however, and he saw the turmoil deep in it, he understood that any attempt would have been futile, and therefore he decided to demand: «What if I painted myself with the marker, and then went to North to ask him for help to clean myself?».
A spark of gratitude suddenly shone in the boy's irises, illuminating them with a new light, but, after some hesitation, he protested: «But I'm sorry, you'd end up stained, too».
«What an indescribable tragedy» commented the Boogeyman, trying to sound as funny as possible; «I, the King of Nightmares, the Emperor of Shadows, disfigured by a spot of permanent marker on a finger. How could I handle such a plague? Will I risk my career?».
Finally, a chuckle escaped from Jack's lips, and he suggested: «I could do it anyway, though».
Ruffling his hair, the man countered: «No, do not worry: I will».
And, after giving a light kiss on his lips, and enjoying his smile, he turned away, to fulfil a task perhaps a bit strange, but which, as a partner and a parent, he would have never wanted to refuse.
Puffing, Jack rolled over in the bed, then he stared at the ceiling, frustrated. There was no way: he couldn't sleep. He had talked for long with Pitch, both during Eos' fourth bath and after, he had discussed the real seriousness of the fact and how he should have felt about it, he had gradually been able to get the problem into perspective and, in the end, even to lucidly face it and constructively analyse it, recognizing the qualities he had showed and developing strategies to remedy the shortcomings which had obviously emerged, but, despite everything, the serenity hadn't arrived, and neither the partner's gentle cuddles, nor the silence of the night, had been enough to facilitate his sleep. Even at that time, after hours, he could feel on himself fear and nervousness, like ants scuttling on his epidermis without respite and without mercy, so real to make it burn, and the need to contort to sweep them off, though imaginary, was becoming uncontrollable: he had to do something, and soon.
Grunting, he turned back again, moving exactly in front of his lover, and, as soon as he spotted him, he couldn't hold back a smile: he adored surprising him in his sleep, when he wasn't aware of what he did and, therefore, he naturally let himself go, smoothing his frown to show a human expression and allowing others to pamper him without protests. Aiming to take advantage of this, he reached out to his chest and gently stroked it, from the sternum to the shoulder and back, and he wasn't surprised to feel him moving and drawing him in a hug as warm as lazy; moved, he continued, a little hindered by the awkward position in which he had been trapped, but not willing to push him away, to the point he allow the lover to curl up around himself, and, when he had been completely wrapped, he had an idea: there was a perfect way, for him, to vent the accumulated stress.
Bending his lips into a sly grin, he began to slide his palm downward, slowly, painstakingly rubbing them against the other's exposed nipple, then along his faint abs and finally on the love handle; wriggled just enough, he reached his collarbone and redrew it with light kisses, climbing to the base of his neck; putting aside the embarrassment, he gave voice to the pleasure he felt and to the one he foretasted, feebly moaning together with him, and so it was that, in the end, he woke him up. He perceived immediately his passage to the state of consciousness, the sigh he had uttered too acute and short not to have been conscious, as he realized, considering the incoherence with which he stirred, that he was still quite confused, and he decided not to give him respite, flinging to his lips and pressing the thigh against his groin; he got deeply excited when he felt him responding, opening his mouth and leaping on him to finally give the go to that intercourse, and yet, within himself, Frost realized that, first of all, he wanted to do something for him, so he gathered his strength and pushed him away.
Fortunately, the Boogeyman didn't show any resistance to his gestures and laid back on a side, his arms and legs backward, perhaps because he wasn't completely in himself yet, perhaps, more likely, because he had understood his intentions; whatever the reason, Jack was grateful to him, and, without further ado, he prepared himself to his goal.
Initially, he proceeded calmly, slowly detaching from his lover and retracing the line of his jaw with his tongue; then, hastening, he slide on his jugular, marking him with a chain of bites increasingly distant from each other; finally, unable to wait any longer, he jumped directly to his cock, and took it in his mouth at once. A vague sense of nausea hit him at that gesture, but he didn't care, rejoicing, actually, in knowing that the other was already excited enough to have already almost reached a full erection, and beginning to bob his head up and down, back and forth, in the sensual dance he had performed dozens of times, but which he was never tired of repeating, to satisfy and, at the same time, be satisfied, to give and receive.
Overwhelmed by his passion, Pitch shuddered, and grabbed him by the hair, pulling to impose him a less frenetic pace; realizing he had rushed too much, the boy slowed a little, struggling to contain his own desires, but, after all, willing to offer his partner an experience as long and pleasant as possible, and, to facilitate himself this task, he laid down, too, resting his head on the other's right thigh. Hampered by the obvious friction, he could no longer count on the seesawing movement of the head, and he had to use his ingenuity, sliding with all his ability his tongue along and around the partner's cock, sucking it sometimes harder, sometimes more lazily, clenching his teeth and lips to give him light bites and smacking kisses, and using his slender fingers to stimulate him where, with his mouth, he couldn't reach him: on his nipples, just below the stomach, on his groin, on his hip, on his buttocks... on his buttocks. What if he hadn't stopped there? What if, for once, he had gone beyond? After all, Pitch had never hesitated to touch him everywhere, and, when he courted him in that point, he had always enjoyed it so much... Shouldn't this have applied on the other, too? Wouldn't it have been right for both, at least once, to change? Nothing but try.
Trembling in fear and expectation, Frost took a few seconds to get ready, during which he didn't fail to fondle the two firm glutei he admired so much, then he plucked the courage and insinuated the phalanges between them; sensing his lover stiffening, he decided to proceed with calm and caution, touching him slowly in order not to disturb him, and, in the end, he managed to find his entrance.
Almost instantly, a hand heavy as a shovel fell on his head, grabbing him by the locks and viciously pulling him up, and an angry voice barked: «What the hell were you thinking, huh, Frost!?».
Whining in fear and pain, the boy moaned: «Ouch...! Pitch... please... you're hurting me!».
At that complaint, the Boogeyman reacted readily, immediately letting Jack go and holding him from the shoulders to prevent him from falling; a little upset, but grateful the partner had listened to him, the boy settled better on his palms and knees and raised his face to talk to him, but, as soon as he saw him, he froze: never, since they had began dating, he had seen it so distorted by anger.
Disoriented, he opened his mouth, but no sound came out of it, nip in the bud by the menacing and gurgling growl which was hissed against him; unable to resist, he allowed himself to be yanked and tossed on a side, and there he laid, motionless: he couldn't believe what he had just undergone. After months of relationship during which he, the Spirit of Frost, unaware of what love and sex were, had given all of himself, both psychologically and physically, during which he had conceded him every vice and lent himself to any practice, the man had refused him. In that way, without any explanation, getting angry only because he had dared to take the initiative. In that way, without ceremony, knocking him away like a trash bag. Was that really the consideration he had of him? Was that really how, at least in the context of sexual intercourses, he saw him? As a simpleton, incapable and not having the right to conduct? As a nice toy, nice until he obeyed to his commands and annoying when he started to work in a non-scheduled way? As nothing more than a whore? He knew that word, now, uttered way too much in the alleys and in the rooms, but never, ever in his life he would have expected to apply it to himself. He had a pang in his heart at that awareness: he felt hurt and humiliated, moreover considering who had disappointed him, but, by virtue of that fact, confused. Was that the way it was? Seriously, in his resentful reflection, he had nailed it? So why in the past, and even that night, Pitch had, actually, let him free to propose and act, at least as long as he had slide the phalanges at that point so private? Something was wrong.
Propping on the mattress, Frost turned and found himself facing a scene, to say the least, shocking: the man... curled up. His legs bent, his arms wrapped around his chest, the tremors which, occasionally, shook him, everything, in him, shouted how he really felt, and his spine very straight and his shoulders widened, in their clumsy attempt to conceal, did nothing but repeat it: the Boogeyman was afraid.
Gasping in amazement, the boy called himself a fool for having thought, although only for a few seconds, the partner just wanted to use him, and he felt bad for not having guessed his real feelings, and to be, anyway, still unable to fully understand them; keeping silent, he approached him, lying behind him and wrapping him in a hug, and, as a sign of peace, he gave him a gentle kiss on the neck: if he couldn't help him, he wanted to at least to show him he was willing to be always at his side.
At that affectionate gesture, Pitch winced, so violently he moved the pillow with his shoulder and, then, struggled not a little to relax in that gentle grip; willing to put him at ease as much as possible, Jack began to cuddle him, and, plucking up the courage, he whispered: «I was just doing it for you, Pitch. I feel so good when you touch me in that special point, and I enjoy it so much, I just thought it would have been nice reciprocating, but, if you don't feel like, I won't. I want you to be happy and comfortable».
He felt so proud of his speech, so mature for the way he had managed to elaborate the other's fears and to prefer their solution to his own curiosity, that he didn't feel the need for anything more, and he snuggled against his partner, without waiting for an answer; after a few minutes, however, and incredibly, this arrived, echoing in the room in a sharp: «If you want to do it, just do it».
Amazed, Frost countered: «But Pitch, you seemed not excited at all about that, you were even afraid, it's not the case...».
«You heard me or not?» retorted the Boogeyman, visibly upset.
Determined not to force him, the boy insisted: «Yes, but...».
«Listen» interrupted him the Boogeyman, suddenly stretching out his legs and turning just enough to be heard well; «I'm not here to play shilly-shally. I gave you a chance. If you want to exploit it, do it, and right now. If you don't, stop pestering me, and let me sleep in peace».
It wasn't hard to guess that, behind his aggressiveness, lurked a fear still considerable; however, a better confirmation of consent could have never arrived from the King of Nightmares, then Jack resolved himself to accept it without hesitation.
Taking a deep breath, he crawled up to his lover to adhere to his back, and he began to massage his chest and kiss his neck: although he had already received the permission to proceed, he intended to do it calmly, allowing the other all the time he could need. Not impatient at all, he went on for long, insisting until he sensed him relaxing a little, and therefore hazarding, using his lips, teeth, tongue, moving his hands down and down, on the partner's sternum, stomach, belly, going down in turn, of an inch, two, three. Once he reached the coccyx, he stopped, assuming that the lover wasn't yet ready for a kiss so intimate, and, indeed, not feeling ready himself, and he swerved along his hip, retracing with the tip of the nose the soft junction between abdomen and thigh; when he reached the groin, he stopped again, breathing slowly on his cock semi erected to tease it a little, then he leaned over and took it, for the second time that night, in his mouth.
Initially, albeit not in an ideal position, he didn't have many problems in stimulating him, bobbing his head almost overturned back and forth and using the left hand, the only free one, to squeeze and caress his buttocks; after just a minute, however, smothered by the sheets, by the erection now full he was courting and by the excessive blood flow to his head, he had to give up, and resign himself to resettle.
Unwilling to interrupt the intercourse to do that, he contorted as best he could to move without losing his grip on the partner's shaft, and more than once he risked to ridiculously tumble on the bed; eventually, though, in one way or another, he managed to lie down, curled up under and in front of Pitch and in the perfect pose to have free access to every intimate corner of his body, and, rejoicing for that, he resumed his work with even greater zeal and vigour, taking advantage of everything which, in the year he had spent with him, he had learned to do to give pleasure to him.
It was with naturalness that, a few minutes later, he inserted two phalanges in his own mouth, making them adhere to the other's cock not to deny him satisfaction, and with a few shivers that, once he had well wetted them, he slid them over and beyond the iliac crest to reach the seam between his glutei, and with his heart in his throat that he touched it, in search of the goal he prayed to know how to handle. It didn't take long to him to find it, the ring of tightened muscles substantially identical to his own, while still inviolate, nor to approach it, massaging it gently with his fingertips to make it open, nor to penetrate it, only with the index, just to start, and at that point he stopped, ecstatic: he had done it. Oh, he wasn't interested at all in having managed to take the lead so far, he didn't care about having his lover at his mercy, the thought of having subdued him didn't even crossed his mind: the only real victory, for him, was having heard a gasp acute in response to his touch; the only real victory, for him, was having the confirmation he had been able to give the partner a new, intimate, all-absorbing pleasure, that he would have never forgotten.
Excited as ever, he moaned in turn, and he continued to stimulate it, moving together the head and the hand to boost his chills; unable to refrain himself further, he slid the middle finger in his entrance, too, and he almost came when he perceived it opening without resistance, giving way to the hot and soft flesh behind it; now thrilled, he picked up the pace, but suddenly a hot and bitter liquid flooded the back of his mouth and throat, and he was forced to stop.
A little coughing, a little swallowing, he pulled his head away from the lover, just far enough to have a respite from nausea, but ready to continue; a few moments later, however, a strong and determined hand tore his fingers off the burning refuge where they rested, and, after grabbing him by the scruff, pulled him up, and a voice ordered him: «Now shut up, and remain motionless».
And, ignoring his pulsating erection, Jack obeyed, curling up against the Boogeyman's chest and silently sucking his own wet fingers, because what he had done had pleased him more than enough, and because, judging by the gasps the other had let out, that time boded to not be the last.
¹ "Breaking the eggs in someone's basket", in Italy, means "upset someone's plans". This time I opted for the literal translation because, although you seem not to have this same idiom, I think it's easily understandable, so I didn't want you to miss the reference to Bunnymund – it was just too perfect to be changed
Just in case you're doubting a baby could be so idiot to paint themselves with a permanent marker... here I am, twenty-four years later having done that. I guess the tip consistence was interesting.
I'm still not sure about when I'm able to publish the next chapter, therefore I decided I'll inform you on tumblr, as soon as possible. Anyway, I'll surely update the fanfiction within the 10th of January, hopefully even within this month.