Chapter 3
"Wait!" Jack called as he sat up.
"You're awake." A soft female voice said.
Jack blinked, looking around, utterly disoriented. He was in a bed, but a different one. The room was different and it felt like he was in an oven. The blankets slid down to pool at his waist, but they did little to block the furnace-like blast of heat rolling out from the brightly blazing fireplace. He lowered his hand, realizing that it was extended before him, blinking and trying to figure out what was going on. There was a woman that looked perhaps in her early forties standing beside the bed. She was slim and unusually tall with a long wash of silky black hair spilling over her shoulder. Her skin was a soft olive color and her almond shaped eyes were a warm shade of dark brown. The dark blue dress she wore was of a long sleeved, full length modest cut, the only embellishment being the little leaping reindeers embroidered around the waist with silver thread.
"Are you alright? You had an awful fall." She said, her voice warm and pleasant, with a hint of an accent, though he was a little too out of it to place it.
"Where am I?" Jack managed.
"The North pole." She replied.
Jack's eyes scanned around, taking in the proliferation of knickknacks and toys scattered around on the shelves and about every other surface capable of holding them. Beyond the room he could hear the usual din of Yetis, elves and the barely contained chaos of the workshop. Then it clicked and his eyes darted back over to the woman. "Are you North's wife?"
The woman smiled, "You can call me Emma."
"It's so hot in here." Jack murmured as a wave of dizziness sent his thoughts scattering.
"Would you like me to crack the window?" She asked as she pressed her hand to his forehead. The hand felt warm, but nowhere near as hot as it should have seemed.
Jack just gave a little nod, trying not to sway as the movement sent his head spinning. Were they trying to melt him? He wasn't sure if it was possible, but if he stayed here much longer he might just find out!
She went over and cracked the window open a few inches. Jack gasped gratefully at the bitterly cold air that whipped through the gap.
"Do you need anything else?" She asked, from her tone obviously worried about him.
"Just... want to be alone." Jack said quickly. He realized how rude that sounded and tried to soften it, "No offense..." He added rather lamely.
"No, it's alright." She reassured him. "Just ring the bell on the bedside table if you need anything."
Jack nodded and she made her way out, closing the door quietly behind her. As soon as she was gone he shoved the blankets off. They were stifling, but he'd been too embarrassed by the almost painful tenting in his trousers to push them off before. He got up out of the bed, feeling sick to his stomach and a little unsteady. He wasn't sure if it was from the fall or all of that heat. He could tolerate normal indoor temperatures fine for short periods, longer if he could cool himself from time to time using his staff, but being unconscious indoors was obviously a bad idea.
He staggered quickly over to the window and shoved it all the way open. He closed his eyes and sighed gratefully as the cold embraced him. When he opened his eyes he looked out. There was a hush to the world outside, and a thick blanket of snow on everything, as there always seemed to be here. He looked down at the snow drift below. He was up two stories, but that short of a distance was nothing for him. He alighted on the window ledge, then sprang lightly down.
When he hit the snow he sank to his knees. He smiled, knowing that much give under his slight weight meant it was truly deep. He dove in and burrowed under, then shifted around once he got to the denser layer below. He was able to hollow himself out a little space with little effort in the easily packable snow. Once he was settled, he flicked his hand and the tunnel leading in collapsed, sealing him into his little cocoon. It wasn't a cabin, but it was better than nothing.
Once he was settled he let his mind wander back to his dream. That had been truly surreal. Had it really all happened, or was it just some elaborate dream his mind had concocted? No, it couldn't have just been his mind. His dreams had never been that real, never felt that amazing. He shifted uncomfortably, becoming aware of the fact that his trousers were still quite tight. After a moment of debate he decided he'd have to deal with it.
The fastenings for his trousers were quite irritating to work open. He really should get some more modern pants. They might not fit the same, but getting them open would probably be quite a bit easier. Then again, how often did he need to open them? It'd been decades since he'd last undone his pants. He tried not to think about that. And he tried really hard not to think about why he was opening them now.
He slipped his hand into his pants and started trying to work out the issue. It felt good, he had to admit. In fact he started wondering why he didn't do this more often. Maybe because he'd never had anyone to fantasize about before. No one he ever had any real chance of being with. He hadn't remembered Mira. He closed his eyes, bringing up the image of her face. He'd thought of her countless times in moments like these when he was a live teenaged boy. Still, he wasn't quite sure what he'd do with her if he'd have been given the opportunity. He knew technically what men and women did together, but it was just so difficult to imagine Mira doing those things. He'd never even seen her naked. The closest he'd gotten was when he saw her in that thin cotton shirt and torn off trousers playing on the edge of the pond that once. She wasn't supposed to be wearing so little, because it was improper for a young woman, but she'd stolen out in her brother's old cast-offs because she wanted to see what it was like to play in the pond.
Jack had never told her he'd seen her. The thin cotton of the wet shirt was clinging to her in an entirely indecent way. He barely stifled a little groan as he worked harder, imagining her in that clinging top. What would have happened if he'd approached her that day? Would she have been mortified and run home? Or would things have gone differently? He tried to imagine going up to her and kissing her, pulling her tight. Maybe he would lay her down on the shore of the pond. He wanted to imagine doing more... taking off all their clothes and sliding between her legs... but his mind was balking. She wouldn't have done that. She was too sweet and innocent to have let him deflower her out in the open like that, especially not without them being married first.
Of course Pitch didn't care about any of that.
Jack couldn't seem to help himself as his imagination darted to Pitch and that hot, wonderful mouth. God, what if he hadn't stopped? It had felt so very good, his mouth stroking him and he was sucking so amazingly hard and... Jack cried out and the flash of completion burst forth from him. It lit up his little snow cave for a moment before fading away. Jack just lay there, panting and feeling more than a little bit dirty as fine particles of snow settled on him. Why had he thought about Pitch while doing that? He'd never thought about a man at a time like that before. After a moment he sighed and closed his trousers back up, then settled in and closed his eyes.
Jack's dreams were strange and filled with bits and pieces of the memories of his life. Interspersed between the crowding memories he had many dreams that were just of him wandering through some of the many places he frequented. Those weren't memories though. He wasn't freezing things and having fun… he was just walking around. It felt like he was looking for something… He didn't know what it was that he sought, but he could never seem to find it. After the first half dozen or so such dreams he felt this overwhelming sense of frustration building in him.
When he was woken by the feel of something poking his arm he found himself letting out a sigh of relief, glad to be free of the persistent dreams. They left him feeling unsettled. He blinked his eyes open, temporarily disoriented by the dark little cave of snow he found himself in, but where he was quickly came back to him. He glanced down at his arm where he'd felt the prod. "Baby Tooth?" He asked groggily, "What…" He looked around, seeing the little hole in the 'roof' of his snow cave where she'd obviously burrowed her way to him. He let out a little sigh. "They're looking for me, aren't they?"
Little Tooth quickly nodded, then gave a little shiver.
He sighed again, but then just gently picked her up and slipped her into the pocket of his hoodie before shifting around so he could protect her with his body as he pushed his way up through the snow. He shook off the loose snow and climbed his way tiredly out of the drift before letting her out of the pocket. She immediately flitted out and away. He glanced after her and found himself looking at Tooth, who was hovering there and watching him pensively.
"Jack! You had us all so worried!"
He let out a little sigh, then looked around, but his staff was nowhere to be seen.
"If you're looking for your staff, you left it in the room." She said, pointing up.
He glanced up, seeing North peering down at him from the window he'd left open.
"Here…" She said, fluttering over and grasping his arm, easily lifting his scant weight up to the window.
North backed up to give them some space as they entered the room. "What is being wrong, Jack?" he asked, his voice rife with concern.
Jack glued his eyes to the floor, wondering how much they had been told about the conversation in his cabin. He just shook his head. "Nothing. I just… I mean most of the year I just nap in trees when I feel like it, but I usually take a couple of weeks off once summer starts, rest up after the winter and all. Ever since you guys first brought me here… I mean I've never been this active. It took a lot more out of me than I realized. I was exhausted by the time we got back here, so I just decided to go a bit early this year. Not to mention now that my memories have started returning… it's like a floodgate opened up. It's going to take me a while to process it all."
"Why didn't you just tell us that?" Tooth asked.
"Well, to be honest, no one has ever cared where I was before, so I didn't really think to ask for a hall pass or whatever." He said a bit ruefully.
"Why could you not just sleep here?" North asked, furrowing his brow.
Jack let out a little snort of amusement, "Ya, no!" He immediately replied. When he saw the expression on North's face start to cloud up a bit he quickly clarified, "I'm normally a very light sleeper, and this is not a quiet place!" He said, gesturing towards the open door through which the many sounds of the Yetis working away, the distant tooting of toy train whistles and the little jingles of the elves drifted. "Not to mention, if I'd stayed in that bed any longer I would have become a water sprite." He added ruefully.
North glanced at the bed, apparently only now realizing how the room temperature might have affected Jack.
Jack scrubbed his fingers through his hair again, still feeling a bit groggy despite the fact that he'd obviously had at least half a day's rest this time. "So, do I need to put in for vacation time or what?" He asked, tired resignation in his voice.
"This isn't a full time job, Jack." Tooth said, fetching his staff from where it leaned in the corner. "We all have our own jobs and responsibilities… and I obviously wouldn't know about that kind of thing, but some of us have 'lives' outside of our work as well. You don't need to keep us informed of your schedule or anything. Really the only time we need you to be here is when there is a threat to the children, which thankfully doesn't happen very often. We were just concerned when you left so suddenly and without a word." She fluttered over, handing him the staff.
He took it gratefully, feeling the reassuring pulse of power that hummed through it.
"You do what you are needing to do." North said reassuringly, "If we are needing you, we will call." He said, gesturing towards the globe out in the main workshop. "But if there is anything you are needing from us…"
"I know." Jack replied with a little grateful smile.
North smiled and gave him a pat on the back. Jack smiled back, trying not to let the gesture send him sprawling. North was a rather strong man, and didn't seem to realize how his little affectionate gestures may affect someone as light as Jack if he wasn't braced for it.
He watched them leave, only then noticing Bunny. He was leaning against a column outside the room, just out of direct line of sight. His arms were folded across his chest and his gaze was set intently on the floor, his ears tilted back a bit. Jack let out a little breath, but decided he'd best deal with this now. He went out, perching on the rail beside him. He glanced over at Bunny, noting how he was pointedly not acknowledging his presence.
There was a rather uncomfortable silence, then Jack finally forced himself to break it. "I… I'm sorry." He said softly. "I shouldn't have said those things, I was just…"
Bunny darted his eyes over to him, his ears flicking as he let out a little incredulous breath. "You think that's what I'm upset about?"
Jack looked over at him, surprised.
"You were in a bloody crater mate! It wasn't that deep, but still! Is avoiding me really worth risking yer bloody life?"
Jack's eyes went round. "A crater? How? I mean I barely weigh anything and with my staff I'm almost..."
"Well you didn't have yer staff, now did ya?" Bunny snapped back. "Even with a whole flock of fairies it still took about an hour to find the bloody thing! It was over a kilometer away, stuck up in some bloody trees!"
Jack just stared at him, speechless. Sure he'd lost his hold on his staff now and then while in the air, but he'd never fallen all the way to the ground without it before. He gripped it a bit tighter, horrified by how close he'd come to losing it.
"You weren't breathin when I first found ya." Bunny said softly, fixing his gaze on the ground once more. "I know our kind don't usually really need to breathe… but we don't usually need to sleep either, so…" He just shrugged.
Jack looked at him, his eyes getting a bit watery as he suddenly realized that he had thought Jack was dead. Even if it was just for a moment… He quickly fixed his eyes on the floor as well, blinking them quickly to clear them. "I'm sorry…" He said again after another awkward silence started stretching out. "I didn't know that would happen. I've never fallen asleep in the air before. I just… I knew I screwed up and said things I shouldn't and I just… I couldn't face that. Especially not there. I know the place isn't much to look at, but it's all I've ever had that was just mine. Ever since I first found it… I'm the only one who'd ever been there. I couldn't handle the thought of having some big argument there."
He looked over as he noticed that Bunny's gaze had shifted to him. Bunny was looking at him with an expression of sad realization, his ears wilting back a bit. "I invaded your bloody territory." He said sadly, no question in the statement. "With the way you are…" He said, waving vaguely in his direction, "I never thought…" He let out a loud sigh. "I never shoulda gone there. If some bloody dill popped up in my warren without so much as a how d'ya do I'd be as cross as a cut snake."
Well, thinking about it Jack couldn't really refute that. He'd never thought about himself as even being capable of feeling territorial, but he couldn't help but remember how disconcerting it had felt to have someone else there in his little cabin. He'd always thought of the place as his little spot of peace and solitude… his 'safe space', untouched by the outside world… and whether he realized it at the time or not, having someone intrude on that space had probably exacerbated the situation.
"Tell ya what…" Bunny said, his voice firming, "I promise I will not invade your cabin again, less it's an emergency a'course, if you promise never to make me find ya like that again."
"Deal." Jack replied immediately, reaching out and shaking his hand.
"Right." Bunny said, slipping into his usual businesslike tone, obviously eager to be done with the conversation. "You toddle off an get some sleep. I got things to take care of."
Jack gave him a nod. He actually really doubted he had anything urgent to be running off to do since he had almost an entire year before he had to start prepping for Easter again, but he could tell he was eager to be done with the uncomfortably emotional conversation, so he kept that to himself. Bunny just tapped his foot on the floor, forming a tunnel and quickly disappeared down it.
Well, for the moment at least, everyone seemed to be done with their questions and content to let him leave, so he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He went back in the room and quickly crossed to the window, pausing only to shut it after him before flitting off.
He had a lot on his mind as he soared through the air, but thankfully he'd had enough sleep that he wasn't near nodding off or anything at least. Yes, he still needed more sleep, but it could wait.
He was a bit surprised a while later when he roused himself from his distracted musing and found himself looking down at the little river town of Burgess. He shouldn't have been surprised really, since so many of the thoughts barraging his mind had been about this town and its links to his past. He glanced over, just able to see a bit of the ruins of the old church through the trees in the distance… but he couldn't deal with Pippa's death right now. What he wanted to know about more than anything was her life.
He drifted down, winding through the streets. He never usually paid much attention to street names, so it took him a few minutes, but then he found himself settling down at the corner of fourth and main. There was a huge old house there, obviously much older than any of the surrounding buildings and with a wide open yard around it, though the neighboring buildings were pretty tightly packet together. He gazed up at it as he walked over to the gate. There was a little plaque mounted beside the gate declaring the house to be a historical monument. He glanced over the paragraph long blurb on the plaque, but he didn't spot Pippa's name, so he didn't bother to really read it. He flitted over the gate, then approached the house. It had a wide, inviting looking porch that wrapped around the front as well as the sides. He walked slowly up the front steps, looking it over. It was obviously made with the intention of being well used, whether by playing children or family or neighborhood gatherings. It was easily wide enough to put tables and chairs for barbeques if needed. The people who built this house were obviously very social people. There was a porch swing facing Main street that was big enough to seat at least four people. It was just swinging lazily in the light wind. He noticed that the railing going around the porch was wider than it really needed to be, a little over a foot wide he'd guess. He wondered if that was so it would be safer for children who would inevitably want to walk on the rails… or so people could sit on it or use it as a table if needed, or maybe it had once held planters full of flowers. Maybe all of the above.
He turned his attention back to the house itself. It was so huge… so unlike the cabin he'd grown up in… but at the same time it looked like a place he would have loved to live. Everything had a definite timeworn and lived in feel to it, but it looked like it was being kept up well. How often had he passed this house? That he could recall it had been inhabited up until a couple of decades or so ago. Who knew that all this time he had been so very close to the place that held at least some of the answers to his past?
If it really did that is.
Well, there was only one way to find out. He girded himself, then stepped forward, phasing through the front door. He didn't really like passing through solid objects, but it wasn't like they were going to just leave the door or one of the windows unlocked. Even such a small, friendly community occasionally had some crime. Mostly it was just teenagers acting out, but they obviously wouldn't have left the security of a historical monument such as this up to the honor system!
The entrance hall was grand, with a huge, dazzling cut crystal chandelier and all, but Jack barely noticed it or the rooms full of antiques to either side. Pitch had said the paintings were upstairs. He headed immediately for the stairway across from him, barely even noticing the velvet rope that blocked the stairs or the sign saying it was off limits to the public as he leapt lightly over them and made his way quickly up the stairs.
As he passed the landing, turning towards the second half of the staircase he slowed, apprehension seeping in. Yes, he wanted to see the paintings desperately… but he couldn't help but be afraid Pitch had been lying to him and all he would find up there was crushing disappointment. When he realized he was hesitating as he neared the top of the stairs he felt a flicker of anger towards himself and forced himself quickly up and into the hallway. He hurried over to the first painting, quickly scouring the people it showed, searching for any hint of a familiar face. Some of the children seemed to have some vague resemblance. Just a similar feature here or there though, not enough to bar it from being mere coincidence.
He moved on to the next painting, but found his search for the familiar equally fruitless. He sighed, starting to suspect he'd been lied to. He spun as he heard a little irritated snort, and found Pitch leaning up against the wall between a couple of paintings, arms folded.
"They're in chronological order. You're at the wrong end," He said, gesturing a bit irritably towards the far end of the long hallway.
Jack eyed him warily, but the man didn't seem to be making any move towards him, so he moved down the hall, watching him warily as he passed him. He then shifted his attention back to the many paintings, trying to ignore the feeling of Pitch following behind him. He was keeping pace, not closing the distance between them, so he let it pass for now.
Jack reached the last painting and started looking it over, trying not to glance nervously back at Pitch. Suddenly his eyes caught on the woman sitting on the padded bench and he forgot all about Pitch. He stared, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks… but no… she may have been older, looking to be perhaps in her mid-thirties, but there was no denying that woman really was Pippa. Her age and figure may be strange to him, but her eyes and the little smile on her face… there was no doubt.
His eyes watered up as he gazed at her. She looked so happy. He pulled his eyes from her face, looking at the children gathered around her. There were six of them, just as Pitch had said. Four girls, each the spitting image of Pippa, the eldest in her mid to late teens, a pair of twins that looked perhaps ten, and the youngest was sitting on Pippa's lap, looking about the same age as Pippa had been the last time he'd seen her. There was a boy of perhaps twelve sitting between Pippa and her husband and there, standing behind the bench just to the side of her, was a boy of perhaps fourteen… who actually looked a little like Jack had at that age. The man at Pippa's side even looked vaguely familiar.
He glanced over at the placard beside the painting, then let out a little happy breath, his eyes watering up a bit more. "She married Benjamin. He was her best friend." As his eyes drifted down the names he saw that she had, indeed, named her eldest son Jack.
"Careful, Jack."
Jack actually started slightly, somehow having forgotten Pitch was even there. His eyes darted over to the man warily.
"It's a very old painting." Pitch said gently, nodding towards it.
Jack looked over, realizing a bit of frost had started to form on the corners of the painting. He quickly took several steps back, not wanting to damage it. He glanced at the next painting. It looked like the woman in that one may have been one of Pippa's girls with a husband and several children of her own, but he didn't see Pippa herself. And considering Pitch had said they were in chronological order…
"That's the only one with Pippa in the hallway." Pitch said, confirming what Jack had already surmised. "The rest are merely her descendants."
Jack looked over at him, but Pitch just turned and walked away, clasping his hands behind his back. Jack wondered if he was leaving, but then he turned towards one of the doors off the hallway and vanished into shadow, obviously going into the room. Jack wasn't sure if it was a wise decision, but he followed him, phasing through the door.
When he came out into the room he found himself in what was obviously the master bedroom, though it wasn't in display condition. The furniture and paintings were covered by sheets and there were some trunks and storage crates scattered around.
"Over here."
Jack looked over, seeing Pitch waving him over to where he stood on the other side of the four poster bed. Jack eyed the bed warily.
Pitch followed his gaze to the bed, then gave a little snort and rolled his eyes. "Your mind, honestly!" he said, turning towards the chair next to the bed and carefully lifting the edge of a dusty sheet.
Jack came over a bit cautiously, but lost his hesitation when he saw the painting setting on the chair that Pitch had just uncovered.
"They haven't had a chance to restore this one yet, but you can still see it well enough." Pitch said, gesturing to the painting.
This painting showed its age a lot more than the others. There was a haze to it, slight yellowing and cracking in places and it was coming loose from the frame a bit on the bottom corner, but none of that mattered. It was a picture of Pippa in her late teens sitting in a familiar chair in what he recognized as the cabin he'd grown up in, though it looked like some improvements had been made to it. She was holding what was obviously her firstborn daughter. His mother was standing beside her, her hand resting lovingly on Pippa's shoulder. Seeing his mother, sister and his old home after all these years alone had him a bit choked up… but then he saw the portrait above the fireplace behind them… It was a portrait of him!
He didn't take his eyes off of it, but he quickly backed up several paces to keep his emotions from unintentionally causing damage to the obviously fragile painting.
"Her husband isn't in this one," Pitch noted, gazing down at it, "But that would have been a little difficult seeing as he was the one who painted it. He did the portrait above the fireplace as well. He gifted it to your mother the Christmas before he painted this one. He was really quite talented. It was just a bit of a hobby though. Not like he could afford to support a family as an artist in that era in the 'new world'. People were far more interested in survival than art back then. I believe he ran a trading post or some such. The actual portrait of you, as well as a number of his other works, got handed down to some descendant or another, so I have no idea if they're still around or where they would be."
This was just all too much for Jack to process. He went over, gazing out one of the windows as the thoughts all crowded around in his head. He kept going over everything Pitch had told him, wondering if it could possibly all be true. After a moment he furrowed his brow, looking back over to where Pitch was carefully moving the sheet back into place over the painting. "You said you only watched my family for a couple of generations… How could you know about all of this, about this house and the changes they made to it as recently as about a hundred years ago?
Pitch actually looked a bit hesitant, almost like he was slightly embarrassed, though Jack didn't think that would be possible.
He wandered closer, going back to clasping his hands behind his back. "I said that was how long I kept track of them. Yours was a rather close family. It was not something I was familiar with. In the beginning I was just keeping track of them for potential blackmail purposes, as I've said… but… I couldn't help but become a bit fascinated by them, to be honest. Year after year, generation after generation, they stayed so close… such a big family. Every holiday, no matter where they had moved to, they all came back and had these huge celebrations… I admit I found myself coming back every couple of years or so on the holidays. I didn't bother keeping track of who everyone was or anything like that after the first couple of generations. I just… watched them. Eventually the family grew so large and had spread out so much it became several large get-togethers in different parts of the country, only the closest dozen or so families coming here. I never sought out any of the other gatherings, just heard the family talking about them. They held their last Christmas here some forty or so years ago. The house has been silent ever since."
There was undeniable sadness burning in those softly glowing eyes when he mentioned the house being silent. Jack remembered what Pitch had said when he tried to get him to join him. That he longed for a family. He couldn't help but wonder if watching Jack's family over the centuries is what had created that longing in him.
Jack shifted around a little uncomfortably as the silence drew out. Pitch was just gazing out the window, looking like he was lost in thought… or memories. After another couple of minutes he couldn't stand it anymore. "Are you trying to seduce me or something?" he asked warily.
Pitch's eyes darted over to him as he let out a little incredulous breath. "Silence turns you on, does it?"
"No! I just…" Jack felt his cheeks warm a bit. "I just mean showing me all this, telling me about my family…"
"I happen to know what it is you've been missing out on all these years, so I thought you would at least want me to share that knowledge with you. Was I wrong?"
"No! I do appreciate it, really I do, it's just… I mean after how you were acting the last time I saw you…"
A little smile flickered over Pitch's lips. "That was your dream, Jack, not mine."
"Ya, but you were the one controlling it!" Jack shot back.
Pitch let out a little chuckle. "I can create fear in other people's dreams, not desire. Your dream was so saturated with your own desire to be touched… to be close to someone else… I can hardly be faulted for allowing your desire to guide me a bit."
"You're trying to say that what you were doing…" Jack asked, staring at him incredulously, "that that was MY fault? That I made you…"
Pitch chuckled again. "You can't make me do anything. More like you inspired my actions, though I was the one who followed through on said inspirations of my own free will. Considering I now have no doubt you are still somehow a virgin after all these centuries, I must say you have a shockingly good imagination. I'm not ashamed to say I quite enjoyed it. Well, up until the end there of course."
"What do you mean, 'good imagination'? Are you trying to tell me that when you… that… I mean…" Jack got a bit flustered, finding himself unable to force himself to describe what Pitch had been doing to him.
"Sensations you have never personally felt in the 'real world' can only be felt in the dream world to the extent of your own imagination. What you felt when I kissed you… when I touched you… it was just how you imagined it would feel if I did those things."
"You can't honestly expect me to believe…" Jack was cut off midsentence as he suddenly felt Pitch's lips on his own, his warm fingers wrapping around the back of Jack's neck to keep him from shifting away. His senses reeled, and when Pitch's tongue found its way in it sent a fiery shot of pleasure straight to his loins. He felt Pitch's other hand brush his waist, finding its way under his hoodie and come to rest on the small of his back, the feel of those burning hot fingers as they pressed him closer sending shudders of pleasure through him like nothing he'd ever felt before.
After a long, completely mind boggling moment, Pitch released his lips, his head shifting back a bit. Jack's eyes fluttered back open and he saw those smoldering eyes staring back at him from mere inches away. His gaze alone made it hard for Jack to breathe.
"Did that feel the same as it did in the dream?" Pitch asked, his tone light.
Jack just shook his head, not able to muster words.
Pitch shifted back more, his hands slipping away as well. "So you see my point then." He said with a little mischievous smile. "Well, I suppose I should let you run along now. If you should ever decide to take me up on my offer I trust you can find me." He said, turning and moving away, "Oh and Jack… don't forget your staff." He said with a little smirk before he vanished into the shadows.
Jack looked around, spotting his staff lying on the floor. He'd apparently dropped it while Pitch was kissing him without even realizing it. He quickly picked it up. Not sure how to react to what had just happened. Rather than letting himself dwell on it, he took a quick running jump, phasing through an open stretch of wall, the wind catching him up as soon as he was out of the house, whisking him high up into the air.
His mind was filled with tangled thoughts and emotions as he soared through the air. Despite his distraction, the wind took him back to his little cabin. He looked around as he entered. Bunny had at least extinguished the fire before leaving, so thankfully his snow drift hadn't really had time to melt much. There was a slight crunch to a very thin layer on top, but it was easy enough to brush off.
He was about to jump into the drift and get settled when he paused. He thought he'd heard something. The wind was howling softly outside, but that hadn't been it. It had almost sounded like sand being poured. He looked around, but the sound had gone. He looked over at the little half rotten bed. He couldn't help but wonder…
He walked over to it, knelt down and lifted it a bit. There was the mouth of a small tunnel there leading straight down. He stared at it for a long moment, then slowly lowered the bed back into place.
He went back over to his snow drift and got in, settling down into its comforting depths and pointedly not looking over at the inky shadows beneath that ancient bed as his mind buzzed with thoughts.
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A/N – I hate to sound needy, and I thank you very much ohhdarkstonedone11 for your support and enthusiasm… but it kind of feels like I'm writing for an audience of one. I am really trying to get back into writing, and I'm trying to use this as a first stepping stone down that path, but this is far from a one way street. I need feedback if this is going to work. I've had so many issues in my life and my poor muse has been sadly neglected for nearly a decade. You can read my profile if you want more information, because I don't really want to get into it here. I'm just asking for a little feedback, because that, more than anything, is what my muse thrives on. I can't tell you how many times what was said in reviews has helped mold my work and made it so much better than it would have otherwise been. So many comments have sparked my imagination down paths it never would have taken on its own. I need that kind of interaction to create works that I am proud of, and that, more than anything, is what drives me. All I ask is for a little support. I'm talking more than just "That was good. Write more." I want details. Tell me what you thought of the chapter, what you liked. Tell me what you thought of characters or interactions or whatever you feel like commenting on, because sometimes the most random comment is what triggers a line of thought that turns into something beautiful. Obviously I'm not going to use every comment to mold the story, but the more comments I get the more likely something will be what I need to keep the story going. Please be honest, but gentle, because my muse and I are still rather fragile. I hope to hear from you.
