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Undisclosed Desires

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A boy and a girl were coming down the street, walking slowly to avoid slipping and falling into the snow. Jack spied their movements from behind a parked car and snickered. The couple was a little older than his usual targets, they looked like students from the nearby community college, but it had been a long boring morning full of work and Jack never turned down the chance to have some fun.

He scooped up some snow from the car's hood and shaped it into a perfect sphere while waiting for an opportunity. The sun showed up from behind the clouds, sparkling off the frost covering everything in the street, and the boy's head turned around as something shiny at the corner of his vision distracted him.

Jack threw the snowball and hit the girl right on the nose. "Gotcha," he exclaimed, throwing his fist in the air and then quickly ducking behind the car as the girl wiped the snow from her eyes and the boy looked around for the culprit.

The girl glared at her friend for a moment, but then she grabbed a handful of snow and threw it at him. "That's payback!" she yelled.

"But it wasn't me," he replied, trying to shield himself with his arms, but then he ducked behind a couple of trees and started pelting her back with snowballs. Soon they were chasing each other around and squealing like kids whenever one of them got hit.

From his hiding place, Jack laughed as he followed the scene. "That's the spirit!" he said, throwing another snowball after the two of them, without really aiming this time. By now the battle was in full swing and the two kids were running towards the park. Jack was about to follow them when a sharp tapping sound coming from behind made him turn around.

"I suppose you think that's funny," said the man standing behind him. He was leaning against the wall and, despite the cold, wore a pink Hawaiian shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a pair of sunglasses. The tapping sound was the man's bow being tapped irritably against the side of his boots.

Jack smirked at the sight. "Matchy!" he said. "It's a little early for Valentines, what are you doing here?"

The other immortal bristled at the nickname. "It's Mister Matchmaker for you, you insolent brat," he snapped back, pointing the tip of his bow at Jack's nose, while Jack made a great show of leaning against his staff and yawning. "And you had no right to interfere with that couple, they aren't kids any more!"

"So what?" Jack replied with a shrug. "They were bored, now they're having fun. It's you who shouldn't interfere with my very important guardian business."

The other man's complexion turned scarlet. Ever since their first meeting, Match had made it clear that he found it insulting that he'd been passed over for Guardianship when he'd been around since ancient Greece. North had tried to explain that it was because the Guardians protected children, while Match's targets were almost exclusively adults, but it was no good, and Jack's constant teasing didn't help.

"Very important guardian business, yes, fooling around in the snow!" Match snorted. He stalked off to a large pile of snow to the side of the road and started digging into it, complaining all the time. "Do you know how long I've been on these two's case? It took me months to set them up. Months! They both like books and European literature, they have a lot of friends in common, they like going out for dinner but they secretly prefer ordering Chinese and staying in, she has a dog, he loves dogs. It was perfect. It was a love for the ages, it was the stuff of legends and incredibly successful preteen novels featuring vampires." Match's fingers closed around the shaft of an arrow and he pulled it out of the snow, glaring at it. "Instead, thanks to your interference, I missed my shot."

Jack shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. "No big deal," he said.

Match's face went purple. "No big deal?" he spluttered, taking a couple of steps towards Jack. "No big deal? Do you think my job is just shooting arrows at random like you do with snowballs? I'll show you, you little twerp."

Jack raised his hands and smiled tentatively. From this close, he could fully appreciate the difference in their heights. Match was a good two feet taller than Jack (and why was everyone taller than him, dammit, not fair) and currently aiming an arrow right between Jack's eyes. "Now, now," Jack said, giving the other man what he hoped was an ingratiating look. "There's no need to do anything rash... Matchy..."

In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have used the nickname.


One of the perks of being a Guardian was that North didn't mind Jack dropping in for an unannounced visit, provided that he didn't bother the yetis and didn't freeze too many elves. Today, though, even the hustle and bustle of the toys' workshop couldn't take Jack's mind away from his private thoughts. He waved distractedly at Phil, who was trying to show off a new model airplane that he'd just finished painting, and wandered around aimlessly for a bit, dragging his staff behind him.

Finally he ran into North, who was making the rounds and shouting orders left and right while munching on an endless supply of cookies. "Jack!" the other immortal boomed, tossing one arm around Jack's shoulders and shaking him. "Good of you to stop by. Have cookie."

Jack barely avoided being smacked on his nose by the proffered cookie jar. "No, thanks," he said. He wouldn't have said no to a cold drink, though, the place felt stifling hot today.

North shrugged and helped himself to another handful of cookies. "I heard about your fight yesterday," he said, resuming his walk along the toy model aisle, and Jack hurried up after him. "Once again you stopped Pitch's nightmares and protected the children. Good job!"

The mention of Pitch's name sent a cold shiver down Jack's spine. "Uh, yeah, no big deal," he said. He stared straight ahead, at some huge robot that a yeti was building, trying not to think about his earlier encounter. North, however, didn't seem inclined to change the subject.

"I'm sorry I did not help you, but this is busiest month of the year for me," he boomed, signing up a couple of documents along the way and tying up a stray ribbon on a present.

"It's okay," Jack replied quickly. It hadn't been that much of a fight, really. A few years ago Pitch had dragged himself back from whichever hole he'd been hiding in, but he was (pardon the pun) only a shade of what he used to be. He still showed up from time to time, attempting to win back all the power he'd lost after his defeat, but he could only poison one or two dreams at a time and he invariably fled whenever Jack or another Guardian showed up. "I barely saw him, I got rid of his nightmare with a blast of ice and he ran away."

He remembered the look on Pitch's face, though. Cold and calculating and very far from being beaten. Jack bit his lips. Pitch had smirked as he turned to flee, as if this was all a game to him and he couldn't wait for the next round. So did Jack. The thought was making his heart beat faster in his chest.

"Maybe in January we all get together and fight him back once more," North was saying, and his words brought Jack brusquely to the present. "What do you think, Jack? We grab the bastard by his neck, yes, and slam him in a cage where he isn't able to hurt no child!" To demonstrate, North grabbed a passing elf and shook him around. The little bell on the elf's cap tinkled and North roared with laughter, but Jack didn't join in.

"Yeah," Jack said, slowly. His mouth had suddenly gone very dry. "Grabbing Pitch, yeah, I'd like to do that. It's a very good idea."

Finally North noticed something strange in his friend's tone, because he stopped and put the elf down. The elf spun around dizzily for a while and then grabbed a candycane for support, while North put one of his huge hands against Jack's forehead. "Are you well?" he asked. "You look all... red, in the face."

Jack's skin felt flushed and he was having trouble breathing normally. "It's nothing," he said, taking a couple of steps back. "I was just thinking about Pitch. I mean, er, about fighting Pitch. It's a good idea, we should get on him. On it." He fidgeted with the neckline of his hoodie, which suddenly felt as if it was three sizes too small for him. "You know, he's got a really firm grip," he said, out of the blue.

North's eyebrows shot up. "Jack?" he said, face scrunched up in a mixture of confusion and concern, but Jack was too distracted to pay him any attention.

"Pitch, of course," he said. His eyes were slightly unfocused and he was talking mostly to himself, didn't even notice how all work around him stopped as yetis and elves stared at him in bafflement. "Sometimes he grabs me while we're fighting and he tosses me around. I don't really like it, I mean, who would? He's so much bigger and more powerful than me, it makes me feel like a puppet in his hands." He shivered at the thought of those dark, large, nice hands gripping his forearms, pinning him against a wall. "I always managed to fight back, but I wonder what else he could do to me. He's always smirking, as if he likes fighting me. As if he's looking forward to it. What if next time I meet Pitch he's more powerful and I can't fight him off?"

It did look as if Pitch was slowly growing stronger. Centuries meant nothing to him, after all, and he was good at biding his time. One day he'd be back to his former glory, the creature of nightmares that Jack had first met. And that day he'd come for Jack, and Jack wouldn't be no match for him. He'd try to fight, of course he would, but Pitch's hold on him would be too strong to break and deep down Jack would relish the feel of being so thoroughly captured.

Pitch would have planned this for years, he'd know exactly what to do next, but Jack would be completely at his captor's mercy, and not knowing what was about to happen would be part of the thrill. Maybe, just maybe, Pitch would take his time, taking his hoodie apart one single thread at a time to expose the skin beneath before running his hands over Jack's chest...

"Don't worry, Jack Frost," North replied. Jack had almost forgotten where he was and flushed crimson when he realized that he was breathing heavily and everyone was looking at him. "The Guardians fight with you!"

Jack barely remembered what they'd been talking about. "I need to go," he muttered, and before anyone could stop him there was a gust of wind and he was gone.


Jack didn't stop until he was a couple of continents away. Then, ignoring the fact that he was in a tropical country, he found a small waterfall and had a very long cold shower, telling himself that he felt a lot better now. But even the icy water couldn't do anything for the heat that kept pooling in the pit of his stomach.

He was shaking off the last droplets of water from his hair when Bunnymund showed up. Jack and Bunny were getting along just fine lately, but Jack had a feeling that he didn't want to see the other Guardian at all right now. His worst fears were confirmed when the first words out of Bunny's mouth were, "I heard you wanted to talk about Pitch."

Jack groaned, a soft sound that turned into a sigh halfway through. "I don't," he said, and he was telling the truth. "The last thing I want right now is talking about Pitch." His voice lingered on the name. He didn't want to talk about Pitch at all, but somehow he couldn't stop himself.

"I hear you, mate," was Bunnymund's reply, "but something's got to be done with Pitch. Yes, North's busy this month, so what? The four of us can easily handle Pitch."

"Yeah," Jack said, sounding only slightly choked. He wished Bunny would stop using that name, or even better stop talking. There were a lot of things he'd like to do with Pitch, each one less appropriate than the last, though it was probably not what Bunny had in mind. So far Jack been able to hide his attraction for Pitch, but with said attraction increased by tenfold it was getting harder and harder to keep everything bottled up inside. He pressed one sweaty palm against his closed eyes. "Yeah, we should... we should definitely do something."

Bunny leaned in to give him a closer look. "The old man was right, you don't look so well," he said, gruffly, trying to hide his concern. "Did you get hurt during your fight with Pitch?"

Jack flopped down on the ground and collapsed with his back against a tree. He was sure his voice would break if he spoke, so he just shook his head emphatically. Not the most convincing denial, especially when it was followed by a full body shiver.

"So what, are you worried we can't take Pitch on without North?" Bunny scoffed. Jack held back a whimper and hoped a tunnel would open up and swallow Bunny, or him, or both. Don't think about Pitch don't think about Pitch don't think about Pitch. "Because we can take him on, no question about it. Pitch isn't that strong any more, even just the two of us would be more than enough to kick his ass."

Jack's head fell back against the tree trunk with a thud. "Why?" he moaned. "Why did you have to mention Pitch's ass of all things? And I was doing so well not thinking about it!"

"Are... are you sure you're okay, kid?" Bunny asked, giving Jack a strange look.

"He's so fit, I'm sure his ass is perfect too. Like a sculpture, or a work of art. Not that I've ever seen Pitch's ass, and that's a pity, but I did wonder." Jack couldn't stop babbling. His voice was low, breathless, and his eyes went glassy as he pieced back all the memories from a hundred scrapes and fights. "It's a crime that Pitch wears that shapeless black robe that covers everything, don't you think? I wish he'd let me take it off," he added with a wistful sigh.

Bunnymund's eyes were wide and he was looking at Jack as if he'd suddenly grown a pair of rabbit ears, but Jack was past caring.

"His neck, though. His neck is a completely different story," Jack continued. He had to bite his lower lip at the thought. "You have no idea how much time I spend staring at it whenever we fight. It should be illegal how deep his neckline plunges. All the way down his chest, and I still haven't been able to figure where it comes together, probably somewhere around his navel. So indecent. I love it."

"I think," Bunny said, slowly and carefully, "that maybe you bumped your head somewhere and you need to lie down for a bit."

Lying down, Jack thought, sounded like a great idea. All the best things he could think about involved Pitch and some degree of lying down. He dug his shoulder blades against the tree, feeling the rough bark digging into his back. With his eyes closed he could pretend it was Pitch teasing him and scraping his nails down his back. Pitch would be rough too, and he wouldn't care if his touch felt painful, but that would be fine because Jack wouldn't care either, not as long as he had Pitch's hands on him.

Jack fisted his hands in the grass. "His collarbone, too," he said, no longer caring that his voice sounded breathless and broken. "It's so, so impossibly perfect. I just want to push back Pitch's clothes and lick that collarbone. From the shoulder to the hollow of his throat." Jack's forehead scrunched up as he pictured it. "Or maybe from the hollow of his throat to the shoulder. Either way. Both ways," he concluded, letting out a small contented sigh. "I bet Pitch tastes delicious too, like dark smoke and spices."

Something was shaking him. Jack opened his eyes and he was more than a little disappointed when, instead of raven hair and eyes like molten gold, all he saw was a pair of rabbit ears twitching nervously. "Jack, Jack, what's going on?" Bunny asked him. "What happened? Did Pitch do something to you?"

"I wish," Jack moaned, licking his lips. "The things I want Pitch to do to me, you have no idea." Bunnymund looked pained, as if afraid that Jack would tell him, and with great graphic detail. However Jack managed to remember something else. "Matchy was really pissed with me, earlier. I think this is all his fault."

Bunny frowned. "Matchmaker? You mean Cupid Matchmaker? Oh, blast it, I should've known," he said, smacking his forehead. "This is just the kind of stupid joke he'd find amusing. Did he hit you with one of his arrows?"

Jack had already stopped paying attention, incoherent thoughts circling back to his favorite subject. "I saw him just the other morning," he groaned, referring of course to Pitch. "He shows up so rarely, it'll be months until we meet again. I don't think I can go on for that long without being able to lick him..."

"I think I've heard enough," Bunny said, very quickly, talking over Jack. "You stay here, okay? I promise I'll find a way to fix whatever it is that Matchmaker did to you. Be back soon!"

He tapped his foot on the ground to open a tunnel and jumped in before Jack could say or do anything. Then the tunnel closed up and a blue flower grew on the spot where Bunny had been standing just moments before. Jack stared at it for a while, then took his head in his hands and started rocking back and forth, trying not to think about Pitch's collarbone.


Despite his words, Bunny was a long time gone. Jack didn't mind. He was glad to be alone while he sorted out his thoughts.

After a long while Jack made it snow, because that was what he did, even though by now he was sure he could bury himself under a glacier and all the heat he felt wouldn't go away. His skin still felt feverish and hot to the touch, which was an alien feeling for him. He had been sitting cross-legged in the snow, using the end of his staff to make swirls and scribbles on the snow, when a a shadow fell in front of him and made him jump.

It wasn't Pitch, or even Bunny. It was just Sandy, hovering on his golden cloud, which explained why Jack hadn't heard anyone approaching. When Jack saw him, he erased his drawings with a quick swipe of his staff. None of them were the kind of drawings you'd show to anyone, even a friend, and most of them were anatomically inaccurate anyway.

Sandy raised a hand in greeting. "Hello," Jack said, not quite managing to hold back a sigh. Sure enough Sandy pointed to a series of pictures that were flashing above his head. The sand was flying around and forming into new shapes so quickly that it was hard to understand it all, but Jack could just make out a rabbit head, a snowflake and a heart.

"Did Bunnymund send you?" Jack asked, and sighed again when his friend nodded. "He told you what happened?" More nods, and a faint orange blush appeared on Sandy's cheeks. Jack wondered how many embarrassing details Bunny had given out, but he just couldn't bring himself to care any more. He needed every bit of his self-control to stop himself from going after Pitch and jumping his bones, and it was getting harder and harder to remember why that was a very bad idea.

A question mark from Sandy. Jack shook his head. "No, it's not gone away at all. If anything, I think it's getting worse. I thought maybe if I jerked off," he continued, with a complete lack of self-consciousness. Sandy spluttered and made a pained face, then waved his arms around as if trying to physically shield himself from Jack's words. "But it didn't even take the edge off," Jack went on blithely. "And besides, my hand is never going to feel as good as Pitch."

He flopped down on the fresh snow and stared at the sky. Sandy hovered above him on his cloud, trying to tell him something, but making sense of his symbols was already difficult under normal circumstances and today Jack didn't feel like making the effort. "I wish Pitch would fuck me," he said instead.

His voice was low, barely more than a scratchy mumble, but judging from Sandy's gestures the other Guardian understood more than enough. The sand flew up to form a huge 'X' hovering above Jack, and Sandy himself motioned for him to shut up, but Jack couldn't take the hint. He needed an outlet for all the nervous energy, even though he knew that talking and flailing his arms wouldn't be enough, not by far.

"No," Jack went on, "not just want, I need Pitch to fuck me. It's like an itch I can't scratch, only a thousand times worse. The frustration is driving me mad, I think I'll die if Pitch doesn't fuck me." He shut his eyes and trailed one hand up his belly, picturing the scene. It would be the only thing that could make him feel right again, Jack was sure of it. "I'll make it so good for him," he moaned, almost as if he was pleading. "He can ask me anything, anything, I'll do it, he doesn't even need to ask, he can do whatever he wants with me, I just want, need, I need to feel him inside myself."

Jack had to dig his fingernails into his skin to remain somewhat coherent, but he didn't know what to do to stop his restraint from slipping away. "Never been with anyone, three hundred years of pent-up frustration, but it would be worth it if he's the first. I'd be so tight and so hot and so good to him." Speaking of tight, his trousers were starting to get very uncomfortable. Part of Jack still understood that taking off his clothes in front of someone else was a big no-no, but it was only a matter of time before he forgot that too.

"I've only ever had my fingers inside me," Jack said, licking his lips. "Pitch is so much bigger than me, his dick is going to be huge." His voice broke on that last word and he choked back a sob. "It's going to hurt, I know it, I want it to hurt. Don't even need any prep. Want it so bad," he said, pushing sweat-slick hair away from his face. There were tears at the corner of his eyes and he wiped them with the sleeve of his hoodie. "I just want him to fuck me so hard that it hurts, because if it hurts I'll feel it more, and I need to feel everything."

He felt breathless but he wanted to keep talking. "Wonder if he'd take me on my back or on my knees," he said. He hoped it would be on his back, so he could watch Pitch's face as he fucked him into the ground, could hold on to Pitch's shoulders and leave scratch marks all over his back as he tried not to scream. But it would feel just as good on his knees, with Pitch's hand on the nape of his neck holding him down, letting him know that he was just a toy, that Pitch owned him, that Pitch could do whatever he wanted to him...

The conversation had been one-sided for a while. When Jack opened his eyes, he could still see Sandy hovering in the distance, his eyes screwed shut and his fingers stuck in his ears. "Sandy?" Jack managed to say. Sandy looked up, saw that Jack's blabber had been paused, and quickly threw him a snowball. Except it wasn't a snowball, it was dream sand, and it hit Jack right on the nose.

He fell asleep at once.


"So? How did it go? How is he?"

Sandy gave the other Guardians a weary look, then jumped on a chair and softly placed his forehead against the table. For him it was the equivalent of smashing that table and then burning the pieces.

"That bad? Guys, there's got to be something we can do for him." Toothiana's forehead was full of worry lines and she kept fluttering around, unable to stay still.

Bunny didn't even look up from his seat near the fire. "You didn't see him, Tooth, he's got it bad." He shook his head as if the gesture could make the memories go away.

North roared with laughter and gave Bunny a pat on the shoulder that almost sent him tumbling into the fire. "It is not catastrophe!" he said. "Jack is in love, it is not a bad thing. All young people fall in love sooner or later. Ah, youth," he added, slapping his enormous belly.

"Okay, yes, usually I'd be all over that," Bunny replied. "Spring, hope, young love, it comes with the job for me. But we're not talking about Jack taking a fancy to just anyone, it's Pitch that he's obsessing over!" At those words, North's face fell a little. "What do you think Pitch would do if he found out?" Bunny insisted. "He'd try to use the situation to manipulate Jack into doing his evil bidding."

"Jack would never, he is guardian of children," North said, but his tone betrayed his uncertainty.

Bunny snorted. "Last time I saw him, Jack was thinking less about children and more about other... adult, unspeakable pursuits." He shuddered at the memory.

Sandy jumped in the middle of the table to get everyone's attention and started a long pictorial tale. All of the symbols were more than unspeakable, and after getting the gist of it Tooth hurried to cover the eyes of her little fairies.

"Whooops, I think you're a few centuries too young for this conversation," she said, shooing them all out of the room and shutting the door. "I think we've all got the idea, Sandy, thank you so much... Oh, wow, I've wondered about that myself, do you think Pitch would really..."

"Sandy, Tooth, please!" Bunny whimpered, taking his ears in his hands in a desperate attempt to block out her voice. "I'm going to need therapy after this."

Tooth gave an unrepentant giggle. "Sorry," she replied, while the swirling sand went back to being an innocuous cloud.

North's eyebrows were so high that they almost disappeared in his hairline. "This kind of wonder, not what I wanted. I suppose we can not leave Jack in sack for a little while?" he suggested hopefully. "Wait and let his head cool?"

Bunny and Sandy exchanged a look. Sandy raised his empty palms and shook his head. Above him, a snowflake made of sand melted and blew away in the wind. "From what Sandy says, Jack is getting worse and worse," Bunny said. "He can't just sleep off one of Matchmaker's arrows, you know how persistent those things can be."

"Speaking of," Tooth said, giving him a bright grin. "How's the Groundhog?"

"He still writes sometimes," Bunny replied, curt, glaring at the fairy. "Can we go back to the problem of how to fix Jack? Because right now he's desperate and miserable and... and horny, and he's in no state to be around people, let alone be a Guardian."

"Maybe we call Matchmaker," North suggested, punching one hand with the other, "and ask him to undo what his arrow did."

Sandy looked thoughtful and Tooth started to nod, but Bunny shook his head. "That's not how it works, he doesn't have any arrows for falling out of love. If he did, I'd know," he added.

They all echoed his sigh and hung their heads, and for a while nobody spoke.

"Well," Tooth said after some thought. "If Match can't help, maybe there's someone else who can..."


" not like it," someone was saying. A deep voice. North. "This is very bad idea."

Jack woke up from his dreamless sleep feeling dizzy and without any idea of where he was. He was still trying to piece together his last confused memories when a hand shoved him and he fell face forward in a pile of snow. By the time he shook the snow away from his eyes, North was already flying away on his sled, and Tooth was offering him a hand. He accepted it gratefully and with some effort she pulled him back to his feet.

"I'm so sorry about this," Tooth told him. "There was nothing else we could think of, and Sandy insisted we kept you asleep until you were safely away. I think he's trying to avoid you while you're in, well, in your current state," she trailed off, giving Jack a somewhat awkward smile.

"While I want Pitch to fuck me senseless, you mean," Jack said. It wasn't hard to remember about that bit, and once Jack remembered there was nothing else he could think of.

Tooth's wings missed a beat and she almost fell to the ground, the tip of her toes bumping against the soft crust of snow. "Hehe, yes, that," she said, blushing, her voice an octave higher than usual.

"I just can't help myself," Jack whined. "He's so gorgeous. And sexy. He shouldn't be allowed to look as good as he does."

"Come on, now," Tooth said with a grin. "Pitch is not that good looking. Yes, he's tall and dark, but his teeth are so crooked!"

Jack shivered at those words. He hadn't even thought about that particular visual, and he didn't know why since it was so compelling. "His teeth," he moaned. "Can you imagine how good it would feel if he bit you? Just, just think of the slow scrape of teeth on skin." He was almost drooling at the thought.

Tooth hid her mouth with one hand to cover a giggle. "I, hehe, haven't really been thinking about..."

"Pitch would like that," Jack went on. "Biting hard enough to hurt, hard enough to leave a bruise for the next day. For the next several days. A red bruise against pale skin, it's the perfect contrast. It doesn't matter if I cover it up, I'll still know it's there, and he'll know too, his own personal mark on me."

"Yes, that does sound like something Pitch would do," Tooth said, sounding somewhat breathless. Then she remembered herself and straightened up. "I mean, er, that's not the issue here," she said.

"No," Jack said. "Who am I kidding? Pitch doesn't like me, he would never want to fuck me or even touch me. He'd laugh if he found out, and then leave me to my frustration." He kicked a pebble and watched it roll away until it disappeared into the snow, wishing he could just as easily kick all his thoughts of Pitch away. "That damn Matchy, it's all his fault I'm in this state. Why did he think it would be funny to make me so obsessed with Pitch?"

"Now, now," Tooth said, hovering in front of him so she could look him in the eyes. "There's something you need to know. Matchmaker can't create love." Jack looked at her without understanding, so she went on. "Trust me, I know, he's been hitting on me for centuries. And Bunny has been on the wrong end of his arrows too, once."

Jack, still trying to wrap his head around it, didn't return her grin. "But I don't understand," he said. His lips felt dry and there was something uncomfortable lodged in the back of his throat. "He hit me with his arrow and ever since then I haven't been able to stop talking about Pitch, to stop thinking about Pitch. He made me fall in... in... with Pitch!"

"He can't do that," Tooth said, not unkindly. "He can only amplify what's already there, not make people fall in love. Jack, this attraction that you feel for Pitch, when did that start?"

Jack swallowed. "The first time we met," he admitted. He'd gone too far already to be embarrassed about making the confession. "Pitch said that we were similar, and he was right. For a moment, just for a moment, I thought about joining him. I would never, I promise," he hastened to add. "The things he does are terrible. But I get a burst of excitement every time I see him, I can't help myself."

Tooth nodded. "I suppose Pitch could be attractive, if you're into his type," she said. Her eyes were full of sympathy.

"I thought he was sexy as hell," Jack said, bluntly. "I wanted him, but it was just a crazy dream that would never come true." He was trying his best to restrain himself, not wanting to scare Tooth away with a crude remark, but already he could feel his control slipping away. "Now it's like a nightmare," he said with a shaky breath. His knees gave way and he collapsed on the ground. "Me and Pitch, it's never going to happen, and I'm never going to get the idea out of my mind."

It was like a persistent ache inside his skin. Jack took his head in his hands and stared down at the snow. He almost jumped when Tooth put one hand over his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Jack," she said. Her voice felt muffled by the buzzing in Jack's ears. "Hold on. I'm sorry, Jack, we didn't know what else to do. Promise you'll be careful?" Then she was gone in a flutter of wings.

Jack didn't know how long he sat there, lost in his thoughts. When he looked up, the sun was disappearing behind a snowy mountaintop and shadows were lengthening over the ground. He stared straight ahead.

"Oh," he moaned. "I have hallucinations now. Great."

"You wound me," Pitch said. "And to think I came all the way here because I heard you were looking for me."


He was standing in the growing darkness just a few feet away, staring at Jack with a grin that was almost predatory.

The sudden wave of lust hit Jack like a physical blow. If he'd thought he had it bad before, it was nothing compared to how he felt at the sight of the object of all his fantasies. Part of him hoped that this Pitch was an illusion or a dream: an illusion wouldn't push him away, and maybe it would be enough to jerk off with that visual aid in front of him. Jack was already half-hard just at the sight of the dark robe stretching across Pitch's shoulders, barely parting to reveal a glimpse of pale skin beneath...

Jack pushed himself to his shaky feet. He crossed the short distance between the two of them and bunched his hands in the front of Pitch's robe, shivering at the feel of soft fabric between his fingers. It felt real enough. "Shouldn't," he said, licking his dry lips. "I know I shouldn't. Don't care." Each word came out as a gasp. "Need you. So. Bad."

Pitch looked down at him. "Do you?" he asked in a low voice. Amusement glinted in his eyes.

Forming words was too difficult, so to prove his point Jack pushed himself flush to Pitch, until he was pressing his aching cock against the other's thigh. There was no way Pitch hadn't noticed that, but his only reaction was a twitch of his lips. Jack couldn't understand what was happening, or why Pitch wasn't trying to fight him, but the fact that Pitch was still here was all the encouragement that he needed. The feel of another body against his own felt fantastic and Jack was going to make the most of it.

He tried to tug at Pitch's shoulders, to get him to lean over so he could kiss him, but Pitch didn't move and Jack wasn't strong enough to force him. Instead he pressed his face against the opening in Pitch's clothes, nuzzling the hollow of his throat. The exposed skin felt cold against his lips and smelled like smoke and metal. It was better than anything he could have imagined.

"Feels good," he said, in between open-mouthed kisses. His eyes fluttered shut. "Good. Need this." He needed it more than the air in his lungs. He needed Pitch to understand it, so maybe he would stay and let Jack kiss him for the rest of time. It seemed the only way to quell the pressing needneedneed that he felt.

Pitch laughed and his chest shook against Jack's lips. "So they were telling the truth after all," he said, almost to himself. "I couldn't believe it."

Jack didn't pay attention to the words, just to the voice. Dark and low and perfectly in control, the complete opposite of what he was feeling. His cock twitched in his pants which felt way too tight already. "I've been going crazy," he moaned. He ached to touch himself, but he was pressed against Pitch from shoulder to groin and didn't want to pull away, not even by one inch.

Again he tried to kiss Pitch, but instead the other grabbed his forearm and leaned in to whisper into his ear. "What do you want me to do?" Pitch asked. His breath made white puffs in the chilly air and tickled Jack's hair.

That was almost enough to make Jack come at that moment. "Everything," he pleaded, almost choking on the word. "All you want." He hooked one leg around Pitch's knees and started rutting against him, wanting more contact, more friction, more Pitch. "You can. Do whatever. You. Just. Please."

It was physically painful when Pitch stepped back, pushing Jack away and making him stumble backwards into the snow. Jack whimpered at the loss of contact, feeling freezing cold wherever his skin had touched Pitch.

"If you want this, you'll do whatever I say," Pitch said, still impossibly, maddeningly calm.

Jack's eyes widened at those words and he nodded. "Yes," he said, quickly, and then he swallowed. "Anything you tell me." He could barely believe that this was happening.

Pitch was looking at him as if Christmas had come early and Jack was his present. "We're going to have so much fun together," he said, and it sounded like the filthiest promise ever. "Take off your clothes."

Jack didn't need to be told twice. He fumbled with the hoodie and pulled it over his head in one jerky movement. The pants proved to be more difficult. His fingers were shaking so badly that he couldn't undo the laces, and the slide of fabric against his cock made him sob.

When he finally managed to take them off and tossed them aside, he stood naked in the snow in front of Pitch, who looked at him up and down appreciatively. Jack blushed when Pitch's gaze stopped on his bulging erection, but he couldn't bring himself to look away or try to hide himself. Instead he wrapped one hand against his cock, already slick with precome, and groaned at the slide of skin on skin.

Pitch curled his lips into a smirk. "I haven't said you can touch yourself," he said. "Be careful or I'll go back on my offer." He grabbed Jack's wrists, one in each hand, and forced him to keep his hands away from himself. His grip was iron.

Jack went limp at the thought of those same hands wrapped around his cock and didn't even try to struggle. "I'm sorry," he said, voice thick with desperation. "I won't again. Promise. Just, just let me get off, Pitch, please..."

"All in good time," Pitch replied.

When Pitch let go of him, Jack didn't dare try to touch himself again. It was painful to restrain himself, but he couldn't risk Pitch changing his mind and walking away. Pitch trailed one finger up Jack's chest, idly, as if tracing the pattern of a wayward snowflake. It felt maddeningly, tortuously slow.

Jack shivered at the fluttering touch, but the more he willed Pitch to touch him in earnest, the more Pitch slowed down, just brushing along the line of Jack's ribs, circling around one pert nipple, pausing on his jugular to feel his racing pulse. Pitch cupped Jack's face in one hand and ran his thumb across Jack's parted lips. It was an oddly tender gesture, more intimate than anything he'd done so far, and Jack moaned into the touch.

"You're just gagging for it, aren't you?" Pitch said. He pushed two fingers inside Jack's mouth and Jack sucked on them eagerly, relishing the taste of salty skin on his tongue. "Such a good little slut. What would the other Guardians say if they could see you now?"

The noise of blood thrumming in his ears almost drowned out the words. Jack didn't care about the other Guardians, he only cared about Pitch, about being good to Pitch, because Pitch was the only one who could give him what he desperately needed. He licked and sucked on Pitch's fingers, lapping at the joints, tracing each ridge with the tip of his tongue. A thin line of saliva was dripping out of the corner of his mouth.

When he had enough of it, Pitch tugged at Jack's hair with his free hand to make him stop. He pushed Jack down on the ground and Jack just fell on his back on the fresh snow, feeling too weak and uncoordinated to do anything but lay there panting. Pitch knelt between Jack's legs and placed one hand on each thigh, forcing them apart.

At the first touch of Pitch's fingers against his hole, Jack threw back his head and gave a strangled yell. His erection was red and aching and insistent, but Pitch still hadn't allowed him to touch himself, so Jack curled his hands into fists and drove his nails into his palms as Pitch pushed his saliva-slicked fingers against the ring of muscle and inside him.

It burned. Pitch's fingers were thick and rough, and even with just one knuckle inside him Jack felt more stretched open than he'd ever been before. He didn't want Pitch to stop though, didn't even try to tell him to slow down. Pitch's other hand was curled around Jack's hip, holding him down.

Pitch thrust his fingers inside Jack, hard, and for a moment Jack's vision went black. After being starved for Pitch's touch for so long, it felt too good, almost too much. "Yes," Jack moaned, trying to push back, wanting more of that rough, delicious burn. "That. That's what I. Ah. Need. More, ah, please..."

Pitch was only too happy to comply, thrusting his fingers in and out of Jack until the boy was reduced to uttering wordless, incoherent moans. "So greedy," he said, leaning close so Jack could hear the words over the thumping of his own heart. "And so young. Look at yourself, desperate to come after only a few touches." He wrapped his fingers around the base of Jack's cock and squeezed lightly. "It would be boring if it ended too quickly."

Jack choked back a sob. "No, please," he said, trying to swat Pitch's hand away. He was so close, could feel his orgasm mounting. "Pitch... need to..."

Pitch laughed again and pushed a third finger inside, dry and rough, making Jack squirm in his hands. "Patience," Pitch said, voice barely louder than a murmur. "I'm going to give you all you need, Jack."

All Jack needed was to come, but he couldn't, not if Pitch denied him. Pitch's fingers stretched him almost painfully and every time they moved they pushed a spot inside him that made him see stars. Jack threw one arm over his face, trying to hide the sobs that were wrecking him.

"You're so hot inside, do you know that?" Pitch asked, conversationally. "Are you always like this or is it just for me?"

Jack was too far gone to answer, didn't even think Pitch expected an answer, until Pitch's fingers stilled inside him and Pitch chuckled darkly. He tried to focus his blurry vision on Pitch.

"It's not polite to ignore a question," Pitch chided him. His grip tightened around the root of Jack's cock. "Tell me. Take your time, I'm in no hurry," he added, and his lips twisted into a smirk.

"I..." Jack said. He licked his lips, trying to remember what Pitch had been talking about. "I don't know." The sense of loss when Pitch withdrew his fingers felt like a physical blow. Jack racked his brains for an answer. "I've never. Never before." He gave Pitch a pleading look. "With nobody. I don't know!"

Pitch's eyes glinted with amusement. "What about your fingers?"

"Sometimes," Jack replied, grateful for a question he knew the answer to. "It's hot and tight but it doesn't feel as good. I tried to put my fingers inside me earlier, pretend it was you, but my fingers are smaller and they were shaking so much..." He stumbled on the words in his haste to reply, to give Pitch the answer he wanted so he'd continue touching him.

Pitch brushed a strand of hair away from Jack's face. "See? It wasn't a difficult question to answer," he said with mock sympathy. He settled back between Jack's spread tights but, instead of fingering him, he dipped his head and licked the edges of Jack's hole.

The touch, softer and wetter than what he'd been expecting, made Jack cry out loud. Pitch's tongue pushed inside the tight ring of muscles, opening him up, and Jack's toes curled at the sudden red-hot stab of pleasure.

It felt so incredibly hot, Jack could barely believe it was happening. He raised his head, trying to see where Pitch's head was pressed against the curve of his ass. All he could see was black hair, moving up and down rhythmically, and then Pitch curled his tongue inside Jack and Jack's head fell back with a thud. It was too much for him, too much after being so high-strung all day.

Pitch's tongue was shorter than his fingers, couldn't reach that spot deep inside of Jack that made him see stars, but it slid inside with quick little thrusts that took all the breath out of him.

"How does it feel?" Pitch asked, and then he scraped his teeth against the soft skin where thigh met hip.

Jack moaned, low in his throat. His mind felt blank but Pitch had asked a question. He needed to answer. "Feels good," he stammered. "Feels so good. Didn't know it could feel so good." His cock was heavy against his stomach, one solid ache. "Need to. Please. Let me come."

Pitch hummed against his skin, thrusting his tongue inside him again. He uncurled his fingers and moved his hands on Jack's hips, holding him down with enough strength to leave bruises on his pale skin. He looked up to meet Jack's eyes and, slowly and deliberately, took the head of Jack's cock in his mouth and sucked.

Jack didn't know if that counted as permission, but he wouldn't have been able to hold back even if he wanted to. His release hit him like an avalanche, sudden and rough and perfect, and he couldn't even cry out a warning before he was coming inside Pitch's mouth. Pitch didn't try to pull back, just stroked him to completion with his tongue and his fingers until he'd teased the last bits of orgasm from him, until Jack felt sore and each touch was too much to bear. Jack stared up at the sky as his vision slowly returned, panting hard, throat scraped raw and eyes still stinging with tears.

Pitch sidled up the length of Jack's body and kissed him, open-mouthed and messy, and Jack could taste himself inside Pitch's mouth. It was almost enough to make him hard again. Pitch bit Jack's lower lip, tugging at it, and Jack panted against his skin. The orgasm had taken the edge out of it and his mind didn't feel as if it was about to shatter any longer, but the burning need in his groin had only subsided.

He curled one hand on the nape of Pitch's neck, feeling the skin cool against his palm. "I need more," he said. His voice was still thick and slurred, only a little shaky. "That was... That was amazing, but I need you inside me."

"Do you?" Pitch asked. He bit down on Jack's shoulder, hard, and then licked at the sore spot. Jack bucked into his touch. "How shameless."

Jack felt a sudden pang in his stomach, fear that Pitch would disappear and leave him unsatisfied, but his mind was clearer now. He could see how Pitch's pupils were dilated, the iris just a tiny sliver of gold, and how his breath was coming faster. Jack pushed his hips up, naked skin against black cloth, hissing at the pressure on his still-sensitive cock. "I need you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me harder than you've ever fucked anyone. Please," he added, almost whined. Pitch seemed to like it when he begged. "I want you to fuck me so hard I'll feel it for months."

Pitch grinned, shark-like, and pressed one last bruising kiss to Jack's neck. "Since you asked so nicely," he said. He straightened up in one smooth movement and started peeling back his clothes. Jack propped himself on his elbows. It was mesmerizing, the way Pitch's robe opened under his touch and then slid off his shoulders to pool around his feet. Underneath, Pitch was pale and lean and already hard. His cock was much bigger than Jack's, thicker, and the tip was flushed dark red and glistening with precome.

Not even realizing that his mouth was hanging open and he was gaping, Jack watched as Pitch spread his robe on the snow like a blanket. "Get on your hands and knees," Pitch said, motioning towards it.

Jack rolled around and pushed himself to his knees. His limbs felt uncooperative and heavy as lead, but he couldn't keep Pitch waiting. He spread his legs wider, bracing his arms. "Like this?" he asked, turning his head to look at Pitch. Sweat and molten snow dripped off his hair.

Pitch hummed in wordless approval and knelt behind him. "Just like this," he said, draping himself over Jack's back and tracing the curve of his spine with one hand. "You take instructions so beautifully, it's as if you were born to take it up the ass."

Jack couldn't have denied it if he wanted, it felt so true. His back was full of scrapes from where rocks had dug into his skin and Pitch kissed and licked those cuts, biting at them lightly. Jack ground against him, against his erection, overwhelmed by the sudden amount of skin contact. He was rewarded by Pitch pushing back, his cock sliding along the crack in Jack's ass. After lying in the snow for so long, Pitch felt scalding hot against him.

There was no warning when Pitch grabbed his hip to keep him still and pushed himself inside. The feeling of being broached was so overwhelming that Jack's arms gave up under him and he slid down, one cheek coming to rest against the black cloth under him. Pitch wasn't even all the way in, just a couple of inches, but his cock was much bigger than his fingers and Jack felt as if he was about to be split apart.

He wanted to tell Pitch to wait, to give him time to adjust to it, but when he opened his mouth the only thing that came out was a strangled moan. Pitch slammed his hips forward, sliding inside Jack one painful inch at a time. Jack clenched his fingers in the robe, trying to brace himself against the rough burn of it, thrusting up his hips even as he whimpered in pain. Even though he'd come only minutes before, his cock was already half-hard.

Pitch curled his fingers in Jack's hair and forced him to raise his head and look at him, crushing their mouths together in a kiss. Jack moaned and licked into Pitch's mouth, exploring it with his tongue, neck straining at the uncomfortable position. He was the first to break off the kiss, gasping for air. "Tell me how much you love this," Pitch ordered, voice sounding only a little more labored than usual.

Jack's tongue darted out to catch a drop of blood at the corner of his own mouth. "It feels so good," he said, pressing his face against forearms in front of him. "Hurts, but if feels good. You feel good." He cried out as a particularly vicious thrust hit just the right spot. On his knees, from this angle, it felt even better. "Like that, ah, yes, do it again," he moaned. "Faster, faster!"

One of Pitch's hands trailed down Jack's chest, pinching at his nipples. Jack arched into the touch. "You have no idea what you look like right now," Pitch whispered into his ear. "Completely fucked out, and I'm not even done with you yet." He slammed into Jack, harder, faster, brutal, giving him just what he wanted. "Everyone who sees you will know how much of a slut you are, begging for my cock, letting me fuck you so hard you're crying."

"Yes," Jack moaned, biting back a sob. "Yes, fuck, yes, just like that." Pitch had found a good rhythm, each thrust edging the balance between sweet and painful, and Jack would have done anything to keep him like that forever. "I've wanted you for so long. Wanted this. Wanted it bad." He bit back another gasp, tasting blood and tears on his own lips.

Pitch's fingers wrapped around Jack's cock, gave it an experimental jerk. "Is it like you thought it would be?" he asked. Jack didn't need to turn his head to know that he was smirking, smug and self-satisfied.

"Better," Jack said. "Everything is so much better and sharper." Pitch's hand was moving on his cock, jerking him off in time with his thrusts. It felt overwhelming. "Fuck. You feel so. Good. Inside me. Fuck, Pitch..."

Pitch slammed forward, his hips stuttered, and then he was coming inside Jack. He kept moving, jerky half-aborted movements, until Jack gave a strangled cry and came all over his hand. Stars danced behind his closed eyelids and he forgot how to breathe, feeling as if he'd fallen and shattered into pieces. He gasped for air, whole body shaking.

Then Pitch pulled out of Jack and stretched himself next to him on the black robe propping himself on one elbow. Without anyone to support him, Jack flopped down on his face, concentrating on his breath. His heart felt as if it was about to break out of his chest, and he wouldn't be able to sit down for weeks. Jack rolled on his side to look at Pitch, and as he moved he could feel Pitch's come trickling out of his ass.

Pitch's chest was heaving and a strand of his hair had fallen in front of his face, but he had the same dangerous look in his eyes as always. "Is it out of your system yet?" he asked with mock-concern. "Or do you want to go for round three?"

It was tempting, so very tempting, but Jack shook his head before his traitorous dick could say otherwise. He wasn't sure his body could stand any more of it. He felt pain in every muscle, but it was the good kind of pain, a deep, satisfied ache.

Pitch laughed and pushed one knee between Jack's legs, forcing them apart. "Not now," he agreed. "But later you'll beg me to." He pushed one finger inside Jack's stretched hole, making Jack writhe at the contact. "Again."

"I won't," Jack lied. "Earlier, that was... Matchmaker hit me with his arrow, I was out of my mind. But now I'm..."

Pitch pressed his fingers roughly against Jack's lips, forcing him to shut up. They were sticky with come and smelled like him. Without thinking, Jack darted out his tongue and licked at them. Pitch gave him a predatory grin.

"You said it yourself," he said. "You wanted me." He wrapped his free arm around Jack's waist and pulled them together, biting the soft spot between Jack's neck and his shoulder. "So I'm going to give you what you want, whenever you want."

Jack pressed a last, fluttering kiss against Pitch's fingers and closed his eyes. "What's the catch?" he asked. It was so tempting, and Pitch knew it. "I'm not going to join you, or betray the others. I can't," he said, voice breaking. If Pitch asked him now, it would have been almost impossible to say no.

However Pitch shook his head. "Keep fighting me, then. Nothing has to change in that regard. It doesn't mean we can't fuck on the side." To underline the idea he pressed his thigh between Jack's legs more insistently.

It was a terrible idea. Jack moaned, eyes still closed, unable to bring himself to look at Pitch because he knew that if he did his self-control was going to break. "You would do that? With nothing in exchange?"

"Nothing in exchange? I don't think so." Pitch pushed Jack on his back, pinning his arms to the ground. Jack's eyes flew open and he tried to free himself, fearing an attack, but Pitch simply stood over him, looking at his naked body appreciatively. "I wouldn't call it nothing if I get to fuck your tight little ass."

Jack squirmed under him, torn between wanting to cover himself and wanting to rub against Pitch.

"Maybe I'll have your mouth next time," Pitch said, leaning close until Jack could feel his breath over his own face. "I'd love to have your lips wrapped around my cock and see you choking on it. Or maybe I'll just watch you jerk off, watch you finger yourself until you're a shivering mess and you can barely move, make you beg for my touch. How would you like that? You just need to say the word."

Jack's mouth went dry at the idea. His body was covered with bruises and bite marks, he smelled like sweat and come, every part of him ached, and he couldn't remember ever feeling better than this. "No," said, shaking his head. "I won't do that again, not ever."

"Maybe not now," Pitch replied. "But soon you'll need me again, you'll need me so much it hurts. Whenever that happens, come and find me." He bit Jack's lip, hard enough to break the skin and draw blood. "I'll give you exactly what you want."