Work Text:
There are times, Pitch thinks, when he simply wants to devour the boy.
He wants to sink his fingers deep into him and hold him tight enough that he can feel each breath as if it were his own.
Wants to feel the way Jack’s skin gives way beneath his hands as he digs his nails into soft flesh.
He wants to pull him in and tear him open and see the way his heart beats through every vein.
Pitch wants to surround the boy, wants to fuse every bit of them until he’s cold to his core and can’t ever feel any warmth again.
Because at some point, Pitch had decided that Jack Frost would never be permitted to leave.
He’s not sure the exact moment when it happened. The boy was meant to be a distraction at first, a simple kindred soul to make him forget, for a while, how abandoned he was in this world. He did not expect Jack to stay. To be honest he had thought he would grow tired of the young spirit’s bright energy. He had always been solitary before, and didn’t expect that to change. He didn’t want it to change.
But Jack did stay. And then Jack began to slowly seep into every corner of Pitch’s life. He still doesn’t understand how it happened. It is a never ending cause of wonder. There was no reason for Jack to stay. Jack is his foil, after all. If ever there was a being so completely made to undo Pitch, it was Jack.
Because Jack was never truly afraid of him.
He would jump, and he startles easily, but then he laughs. Even the Guardians, in their smug victory, still fear him in their way. They gather and whisper and fret when he shows the slightest hint of activity and stand with nothing but their courage against him.
But Jack is more subtle, more insidious than courage. Courage is facing fear and fighting it even while it sinks its claws deep into your mind. Courage is the Guardians and their determined frowns and weapons drawn.
Jack looks into the face of fear and throws a snowball at it. He’s all reckless abandon and whoops of pure joy as he rides the adrenaline of fear. Jack sees the darkest images the mind can conjure and mocks them with that bright laugh of his.
Pitch had first meant to keep the boy close because he could be too dangerous if he got away.
He sometimes wonders if he’s far more dangerous where he is now.
That laugh began infecting Pitch. He would feel it bubbling up inside him while they created menacing frosted shapes in window panes and plucked at clothes with cold fingers. He turned it into a dark sound carried by the wind and made it the creak of dry and brittle branches in the deep night. He finally let it out when Jack terrified an entire town by carefully painting what looked like faces in the ice.
Jack was his ruin, his downfall, and he was MADE for Pitch. No one else had felt that horrible, bitter pain that comes from lack of belief. Or the lost, wandering emptiness that comes from waking up one day knowing what you are and what you’re meant to do, but not why. Jack is the only other being who has no memory of a past self, who woke up with a purpose and a nagging feeling that something has been lost. Who came to be and then could do nothing but exist.
But Jack had made existing fun. Pitch had always been focused on the grand terrors, the dark horrors that made men turn against each other and started wars that spanned years. But now he could laugh in delight at the small startles, the jumps in the night and the whispers that made people turn their heads and wonder about the old stories they had heard. And it was because of Jack.
Jack was perfect.
And really, it was only a matter of time before he started thinking of the boy as HIS Jack. It may have been after the Tooth Palace, when he had walked up from his lair and Jack was still there. Perched on one of the old bed posts holding his little box of memories, and not leaving. That was when Pitch had first felt that coiling possession welling up. He remembered thinking, as he looked at Jack, that it was too late for him to leave now. He had his chance to escape, but now Pitch wouldn’t let him go.
But really, it happened one of the many times when he let out his screaming rage and fury onto the small, fragile boy, who only laughed. When he saw the full force of that bright, mischievous grin directed at him and could only think about how that was HIS to look at.
And once the thought of “mine” had flitted across his mind it had snagged. He couldn’t stop thinking of the boy as belonging to him. Jack was his to keep, his to enjoy, his to look at. His fingers began to itch whenever Jack was close and he found himself wondering what that mouth felt like curled in a smirk against his own. Pitch had never really thought of kissing before. It simply wasn’t something that fell into his area of expertise.
But he still found his eyes lingering on that smile and wondering if it was as sweet as it looked.
It was during one Jack’s bright bursts of laughter that Pitch finally gave in. It had surprised him as much as it surprised Jack really. He held the boys face and swept in to quickly press his mouth to that smile before it went away. He hadn’t meant for much. Just a small taste. Just enough to satisfy his curiosity.
But it had been so, so cold, and so, so sweet that he couldn’t pull away. He needed more of it, felt his breath catching in his lungs as he bruised Jack’s lips with his own. He ran his tongue over them, chasing the flavor of that grin and diving in when cold lips parted in a startled gasp. He held Jack still as he inhaled as much as he could and tasted every inch of that cool, brilliant smile.
He had, for a foolish second, wondered if that one taste would be enough for him. But then Jack finally relaxed against him with a small sound and Pitch felt his cold tongue run across his own. And it could never be enough then. There was Jack pressed against him and hands clinging onto his shoulders and thin ice crusting over his robe and a soft mouth moving hesitantly against him. And all of it was HIS.
It was too soon when Jack slowly pulled away with a shaky breath that frosted in the warm air. His blue eyes had been wide in shock, staring up at Pitch like he was something entirely new and strange and exhilarating. He had stared for a long time and Pitch wondered, briefly, if he had just completely destroyed everything. But then that mouth - swollen and red and shining now and oh that could never be a mistake- curled into his best pleased grin and Pitch had to go back in. He bit into Jack’s laughter and felt it against his tongue and on his lips and reverberating against him from where they were pressed together.
He was completely addicted from that moment on. He doesn’t know how he ever thought he could only have that once and be satisfied. He could drown in the feel of Jack’s mouth. He finds himself sweeping down on Jack whenever they have a chance because he can now. He can look and touch and kiss that smile as often as we wants, which is very often.
And the touching is its own addiction. Even when he isn’t kissing Jack he wants to feel that skin against his. Wants to feel that cold, smooth softness against his fingertips and short strands of hair between his fingers. He can’t get enough of knowing that he CAN touch Jack. Jack is his to run his hands over and feel and own. Jack may laugh at him in, may roll his eyes and tease, but he still lets Pitch do what he wants.
So Pitch does what he wants. He touches; runs his fingers over Jacks face and through his hair and over his shoulders.
He’ll wrap his hand around that slim waist just to revel in how small Jack is, how much of him fits in Pitch’s palm. Pull him in tight just to feel how easy it is to surround and wrap completely around him.
He’ll cup his cheek and feel how each muscle pulls into that damned smile and put a hand to his throat to feel the laugh.
He’s found that he especially likes to keep a hand over Jack’s cheek and jaw while they’re kissing so that he can feel how Jack moves while Pitch’s tongue is inside him.
Then he discovers that the nothing goes better with the taste and feel of Jack than the sound of him. Pitch only notices the small noises at first. The way Jack would suck in a quick breath as a hand ran up his side or the way it would shudder back out when his neck was caressed.
And the noises he’s making now, as Pitch holds him close and drags their tongues together, are especially lovely. Jack is under him and Pitch is doing his best to cover every inch of the boy as he drinks in the tiny, broken noises Jack makes against his mouth. He has every intention of lying here for hours kissing Jack until those lips are swollen for days.
Pitch tilts his head, changing the angle and dragging his nails across the back of Jack’s neck. The boy whines and twitches against him and it’s the most perfect thing Pitch can think of.
There’s a shift, a slight movement in Jack’s body and suddenly Pitch can FEEL it. There’s a cold hardness pressing into his stomach and he feels like the breath just left him because he can feel how much Jack wants HIM.
Jack is turning pink and his body is growing colder and he shifts again, trying to pull away and stammering over half formed apologies and Pitch can’t allow that. He grabs Jack’s hips roughly, digging his nails in and pulls him up tight, forces Jack to stay flush against him and kisses away the shocked gasps.
Pitch pulls back just enough to hear the way Jack’s panting as he kisses down his jaw, thumbs stroking soothing circles over his hips. “Shhhh, it’s alright Jack. That’s right, let me feel it, just let go. Oh, you’re a wonder...”
Jack is still just shivering, breaths coming in quick bursts and Pitch slowly, deliberately moves up; drags against that throbbing hardness and Jack’s whole body jerks and Pitch smothers a groan into the cold neck. The air is filled with the sound of Jack’s keening and gasping and Pitch loves the feel of each cold burst of air against his face.
Jacks hips press up on their own now, still in small aborted movements and Pitch presses harder into the grind of him, pressing his open mouth against the fluttering pulse in Jacks throat.
“Perfect, perfect you’re absolutely perfect Jack, that’s it, let me hear more! Oh Jack I could just consume you, that’s it show me you’re mine.” The words leave him in a rush and his voice is a strained and hoarse thing because Jack IS his. He’s his with every soft cry and in the way his hips are hitching up against him now and in the way every gasp comes with a broken whimper. It sounds like Jack’s dying even as his fingers dig into Pitch’s back and he whines Pitch’s name like it’s the only thing he can think of.
Pitch sinks his teeth in under Jack’s jaw and it’s almost too much, the way the skin gives and bursts under his mouth and the way Jack is holding him like he’s a lifeline while writhing against him and the way Jack just wails as Pitch laps at the angry red mark he’s made. He can taste Jacks sweat mixing with Jacks blood and feel Jack thrusting up into him and hear the way his voice is high and thin and barely coherent through the desperate gulps for air.
“Pitch! O-oh Pitch I-I cant! I d-dont I-I-Pitch!!” Jack’s pressing everything up into Pitch now and he sounds like he’s being completely torn apart. There’s a tinge of fear and excitement in the air and it’s all just so perfect that Pitch can barely stand it. He buries his face against the bite on Jack’s jaw and digs his nails into Jack’s hips.
“That’s it Jack it’s alright, come on Jack let go. Let go that’s it you gorgeous boy you’re so good Jack so good.” He couldn’t stop the stream of words if he wanted to. But Jack pulls his face up and silences him by mashing their lips together as he screams into Pitch’s mouth and Pitch is sure that every new thing this boy does is more amazing than the last.
He brings his hands up to cup Jacks jaw, keeping it in place so Pitch can kiss every small sound as Jack’s body trembles with aftershocks. He moves over the rest of Jacks face, pressing his mouth over every twitching muscle and moving down to mouth at the mark on Jack’s neck again. There’s a thin layer of ice cold sweat all over Jack and Pitch wants to lap every trace of it up, taste what he did to Jack and run his tongue over every bit of skin that’s flushed because of him.
His hand slides up Jacks shirt, hiking it out of the way so he can drag his teeth over the spot where Jack’s heart is pounding and feel how Jack’s ribs move with every gasp. Jack squirms a little under the attention and mutters something about “ticklish” but Pitch ignores him. He wants to taste everything and feel every bit of Jack and sample every bit of skin. He keeps moving down, smiling against Jack’s stomach when he feels it shake with Jack’s small burst of tired laughter. There’s a hand running through his hair and Jack is a limp, vulnerable and pliant thing beneath him.
“What are you doing? You can’t actually eat me you know.” Pitch would like to raise a disagreement but his mouth is too busy biting into the soft skin under Jack’s navel and thoroughly enjoying the way Jack jumps when he sucks on the marks. He mouths over every bit of skin he can get to but it’s not nearly enough. He all but tears Jack’s pants down in his haste to find out what Jack’s need for him tastes like, to feel it cold on his tongue..
Pitch barely registers the strangled, choked off noise above him as he drinks in the sight, Jack lying with his shirt rucked up and pants yanked down, covered in sweat and angry red marks from Pitch’s mouth and hips covered in the proof that he NEEDS Pitch. He growls when Jack moves to try and cover himself up and grabs the thin wrists, pinning them down at Jack’s sides.
“Don’t you dare!” He hisses, tightening his grip when Jack tries to pull away. “Besides,” he drags his tongue slow and firm through the mess, stopping to nuzzle Jack’s flacid cock and grinning when it twitches, “it’s a little late for modesty Jack.”
With that he returns to licking up every bit of Jack, only stopping to give a quick bite at the muttered “oh gross” above him. It’s incredible, less sweet than Jack’s smiles, saltier than his sweat and colder than ice. Pitch inhales deep as he rolls the flavors over his tongue before swallowing. He can’t stop thinking that all of this is his and it’s all for him and it’s all because of him. He lets go of Jack’s hands and drags his nails down the boy's thighs, sighing happily when Jack arches and chokes out a curse.
Even when he’s licked every spare drop he can’t stop, chasing the lingering taste of Jack and Jack’s skin while muttering nonsense non stop. The low stream of talking only stops when he realizes that Jack is shivering and hard for him again and this time he can SEE it. Jack’s erection is flushed and red and twitches as Pitch hovers over is, breathing a warm sigh over the chilled cold skin. He has to hold Jacks hips down as he leans in, breathing hot against it and slowly moving to mouth at the base. The flavor of Jacks skin is even stronger here, musky and crisp as ice and Pitch groans as he drags his tongue up the throbbing vein. Every bit of Jack is concentrated here in the impossibly cold, velvety soft shaft.
He can’t manage to hold back the sharp groan as he rolls his tongue over the head where everything is even more intense. It’s soft and he can feel each pulse and bursts of sharp and bitter saltiness that come with each slow drag of his tongue. Pitch digs his fingers into the meat of Jack’s thighs to keep himself grounded and looks up, wanting to see everything while he tastes.
Jack is strained and arching, hands thrown up over his face and muffling the constant high mewls and whines and Pitch can’t have that. He lowers his mouth and swallows around the head, pulling off slowly and rolling his tongue over the slit.
“Look at me Jack, I want to see everything, do you have any idea how incredible you are?” Jack whines and gives a jerky shake of his head, breath huffing out in harsh bursts. Pitch goes back to mouthing over the shaft, murmuring between open, wet kisses.
“It’s all so much isn’t it Jack? Feeling all this at once. You taste exquisite, like everything is distilled down to your base and it’s all for me...” He lowers himself down and swallows as much of Jack’s erection as he can, moaning when it hits the back of his throat and he just wants more of it. Wants more of Jack in him and wants to feel like he’s breathing and tasting and feeling nothing but Jack. He slowly pulls back up, running his tongue up the underside of Jack’s cock and quickly sucks it all back down, wanting to feel it fill his mouth again.
He wants to grin when he feels hands clench into his hair and looks up, seeing Jack staring down at him with his mouth open and gasping and eyes wide. Pitch catches Jack’s gaze and holds stare as he bobs his head. There’s almost no blue left now with how blown Jack’s pupils are and it makes Pitch feel like he could keep going and see Jack’s eyes go full black as he infected the boy to the core.
He sucks harder, moves faster and pulls Jack’s hips up to try and get him deeper and he just wants more. Jack’s breath is almost coming out in dragging sobs now, his cock jerking and hardening in Pitch’s mouth. Pitch buries his nose in the white curls at the base and feels as much as he can as Jack screams and twitches and pulses in Pitch’s mouth. Pitch nearly whines himself as he swallows down the burning cold liquid like he may die without it.
He keeps suckling gently through the aftershocks, not wanting to miss a single burst against his tongue before he pulls back. Even that is only because Jack starts pulling on his hair with high, pained whines of “Too much too much Pitch it’s too much!”
Pitch gives the one last gentle kiss against the spent cock and smiles as he moves back up Jacks body. He takes his time, lingering over the marks and scratches that he’s left and mouthing a few new ones in despite Jack’s slurred protests. He finally reaches back to kiss that sweet mouth and laughs when Jack pulls away with a face and a muttered “Oh no! Gross! You taste gross!”
He’d prefer to stay and kiss Jack for the next few hours but lets himself be content with wrapping as much of himself as he can around the boy and burying his face against the soft white hair. Jack is limp as a doll and Pitch arranges him as he see’s fit until he has Jack curled into his chest and his head is tucked under Pitch’s chin. When he’s finally satisfied with their positioning he sighs and runs a hand up and down Jacks back.
“You are absolutely marvelous.” He purrs. Jack moves and gives a tired, drunk giggle.
“You...I don’t know. I’ll know later. I can’t think right now. Wow.” The boy breaks off with a yawn and curls more into Pitch with a content sigh.
Pitch doesn’t even try to hold back the wide grin spreading over his face. His mouth is almost numb from cold, his throat feels raw, and Jack is small and soft and cool in his arms as he drifts to sleep.
Everything is perfect.