Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/929085.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      Gen, M/M, F/F, Multi
  Fandom:
      Rise_of_the_Guardians_(2012)
  Relationship:
      Pitch_Black/Sanderson_Mansnoozie
  Character:
      Sanderson_Mansnoozie, Pitch_Black_(Rise_Of_The_Guardians), Ensemble
  Additional Tags:
      Child_Abuse, Relationship(s), Anal_Sex, Double_Penetration, Victorian,
      Friendship, Gyms
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-16 Completed: 2014-03-25 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 17609
****** Facets III ******
by OKami_hu, oksammich
Summary
     Following the Lord of Dreams and the Nightmare King on a twisting
     journey through different dimensions.
Notes
     WARNING! The first story is pretty trigger-loaded, read carefully. It
     is entirely oksammich's work, not co-authored; and it managed to blow
     a few of OKami's fuses.
***** Sandbox *****
Pitch Black is four years old and his favorite toy can't be broken.
It is in the middle of a weed-choked playground, surrounded on all sides by
high towers of rusted pipe that has long since crumbled under too many sweaty
little hands. There are a few old swing sets dotting the horizon, with tangles
of chain and plastic dangling toward the dead ground, and a dome-shaped web of
bars that always feel sticky while the burn the backs of his bare legs.
His favorite toy sits next to the dome (the web-turtle, he calls it); it is a
small box lined with four rusted railroad ties and piled with sand. Mom says
it's gross for him to play there, and more than once he's cut himself on broken
glass that looked like emeralds and sapphires under the afternoon sun, but
nobody else wants to play here and Dad doesn't ever follow to the complex
playground.
With his backside stinging and his arms throbbing where the lit ends of
cigarettes die, he digs and builds and demolishes and creates. Sometimes he
stays out here until it gets dark. Mom screams at him when she finds him and
steps on his castles while she grabs his elbow. He knows he's stupid for being
out here alone and he knows somebody might take him away.
Pitch Black is four years old and wishes somebody would.
He wants to go to the beaches made by his fingertips. He wants to follow the
roads carved out by sticks, swirling toward the mysterious mountains made by
railroad ties and surrounded by forests of leaves, twigs, and syringes. He
wants to disappear into the ancient tombs dug out with his knuckles and piled
high with treasure that's really treasure, not broken bottles.
He goes to sleep hungry because he's bad, and while Mom and Dad shout loud
enough to make the walls rattle, Pitch Black squeezes his eyes shut and prays
he won't wake up.
---------
Pitch Black is five years old and likes to color with crayons the most.
He sits by himself because the other kids complain about his smell, but he
doesn't hit them even though he really wants to. With his black hair sticking
to his face, he hunches over a two-seated plastic picnic table and carefully
draws a golden circular shape. The surface under his paper isn't smooth at all,
so when he colors, the result is jagged, static-like texture rather than opaque
hue.
That's okay. Pitch likes it a lot, because it looks like his sandbox at the
apartment complex. He still plays in it even though the other kids say it makes
him a baby. When he's happy, he creates castles that look like dollops of
McDonald's ice cream; when he's sad, he sneaks out and punches and punches and
punches the sand, while biting on his tongue so he doesn't yell. No matter how
much he hits the sand, it is soft and it never hits back.
He wishes he has a friend like that.
So when the teachers ask him why he sits alone, he looks up from his paper and
says he has to concentrate on writing a letter. He's decided to make a friend,
and since he's going to be really good this year, he's going to ask Santa to
bring him to life.
Pitch labors all day over his picture, so Santa will know exactly what kind of
friend he needs.
He is a boy--Pitch doesn't want a girl for a friend-- and he is fat and soft
and warm, so his hugs will feel really good. He has hair that sticks up like
the rays of the sun. His hands and feet are small so he can never punch or
kick. His eyes are big and brown like a teddy bear's, and they're never
bloodshot. He has a big smile because he -always- smiles and his teeth are
straight and white and his breath smells like mint, not cigarettes.
And most importantly, he doesn't talk.
He will never yell or curse or call him names or make him cry. He'll only smile
and take Pitch by the hand, and they'll go far away to someplace where he can
have new shoes and McDonald's every day.
His mom is late today, so he is the last one at preschool. For the very first
time, he approaches one of his teachers with his drawing. With his very best
manners, he asks her to write the name of his new friend on the paper. She
smiles and it's like a smile his friend would have.
"What's his name?" she asks, leaning over with a pen and preparing to write
where he's pointed to.
Pitch lifts his chin proudly. "His name is Sandy."
---------
Pitch Black is six years old and his birthday is close to Christmas.
He's only a little disappointed that he didn't get Sandy for his birthday. He
says thank you on the phone to Grandma for the birthday money she's sent
(twenty whole dollars!), then pretends not to notice Dad putting it in his
pocket. He's not entirely convinced of the Santa Claus thing, and he thinks
parents have something to do with it, so he's happy that Dad takes what he
needs to help Santa out. He knows he has to be on his best behavior or his wish
won't come true.
They go to church that Christmas and Pitch gets some clothes from the ladies in
black and white. He gets a wrapped gift, too: an Elmo doll that talks, but he
gives that away because he's too old for dolls. With a smile on his face, he
doesn't want to eat the big dinner that the church serves to all the families.
He doesn't take more than a few bites of pumpkin pie and whipped cream, even
though it's his favorite dessert.
He can barely sit still through the songs, head snapping back every time he
hears the big doors swing open. He sees all sorts of people, some who twitch a
lot like Mom and some who smell worse than he does, but he never sees Sandy. As
it gets later and later, he feels a pain in his tummy, like when Dad uses his
foot to spank and hits Pitch's balls instead of just his butt.
Then Mom takes his hand and leads him out into the snow.
With his eyes stinging, Pitch stumbles reluctantly after her. He purposely
drags his feet in hopes that Santa's just late, grinding his teeth every time
Mom jerks his bruise-mottled arm.
He's been SO good this year! He didn't get into one single fight and he barely
cries when he gets spanked. He hasn't stolen anything. He's worked really hard
to learn his letters and numbers and colors. Santa had to have noticed...!
Mom slaps him when they turn a corner. She tells him to hurry up. Dad laughs.
Pitch Black gives one more look to the night sky and doesn't see Santa or his
sleigh, and though it didn't even hurt that bad, he opens his mouth and screams
and screams and screams.
-----
Dad hits him with the belt until Pitch can't scream anymore. He lays with his
face in his pillows and cries, because his back hurts a lot and he thinks he's
peed himself. He is dizzy.
He wakes up and Mom is pushing him into cold water. It hurts so bad.
She cusses him but she's crying, so he thinks she's worried.
He hopes nothing happened to Santa.
-----
Pitch Black wakes up again and his mouth feels like it's full of soap and
toilet paper. When his eyes adjust to the dim light, he sees he's laying in the
living room in front of the TV. The couch sags and something hurts his back,
but there is a yellow glow to the side. It is round and soft. At first he
thinks it's just their ugly old lamp, but then he closes his eyes and wishes
really, really hard.
When he opens them again, his vision is still blurry, but he just -knows- that
shape. He smiles big and says hello, hello Sandy.
-----
Mom asks him the next day who he was talking to.
"Mom," Pitch says, voice still hoarse from screaming, "Sandy's right here."
He points to the chair beside him and smiles.
She says she don't see no one, then her eyes light up and she says ohhhhh. "Is
Sandy your friend?" she asks.
Pitch Black nods and pours Sandy a bowl of cereal.
-----
Pitch Black is seven years old and his best friend is Sandy.
They do everything together. Pitch comes up with stories in the sandbox and
Sandy acts them out. Pitch has to explain lots of things to Sandy because he's
like a baby sometimes, but Sandy always smiles like he's saying thank you and
acts like Pitch is super smart. Pitch asks for two sheets of paper and two
boxes of crayons at school so Sandy can color too, and even though they laugh a
little, the teachers give him the supplies they need. Sandy never colors,
though. He just watches Pitch draw and he -always- likes his pictures.
Pitch talks to Sandy a lot. The teachers say that he should talk to other
people but Pitch doesn't want to. If they could see Sandy, they'd understand
why Pitch prefers him to the other kids. Sandy is always nice and lets Pitch
pick the games, and Sandy never makes fun of him for crying when Dad hits him
too hard.
Though it makes him sad sometimes. He asks why Sandy doesn't just take him
away. He hurts a lot. His front two teeth are gone because he talked back to
Dad, and Dad hit him so hard they came out. Mom has started sleeping in Pitch's
room at night and she scares him more than Dad because she does something to
his dick (Dad told him the right word for 'peepee'). She made him promise not
to tell but he tells Sandy because Sandy can't talk anyway.
Sandy doesn't answer. Pitch thinks they're both too little to run away yet.
So they keep playing together, making plans out of sand and sharing secrets. He
keeps talking to Sandy, and when he goes to bed at night, he closes his eyes
really tight so he falls asleep before Mom comes inside.
-------
Pitch Black is eight years old and Dad is teaching him to be tough.
He tells Pitch that he has to be a man. Men don't cry and men don't let anybody
hurt them.
They hit each other a lot now. Pitch goes to school with aches and bruises in
all sorts of places, but he is proud because he punches really hard and it
makes Dad happy.
Pitch still wants to make Sandy happy, so he practices his reading because he's
still going to build a castle someday, where he can be king and Sandy can live
there too. He talks to Sandy but he's stopped drawing pictures since Sandy
frowns a lot.
He figures Sandy's jealous that Pitch is grown up. Pitch is a lot more grown up
than any of the boys in his grade. He's told Sandy that he can be a grown up
too but Sandy acts funny about it.
One day he's reading to Sandy and Dad shouts at him to stop it. He calls Pitch
a freak. He says Sandy isn't real.
Pitch knows Santa and the Tooth Fairy aren't real, but Sandy is. He turns to
point where his best friend sits.
For the first time, Sandy isn't there.
-----
Pitch Black is eight years old and he wins his first fight.
The boy is in a grade above him and wears nice striped shirts. He finds Pitch
playing in the sandbox and asks why he's doing that.
"I'm building something," Pitch says. He already feels hot inside.
The boy makes an ugly smile and kicks over Pitch's castle. He says that it's
stupid. He says that the sand makes Pitch smell worse. He asks why Pitch
doesn't take a bath.
Pitch doesn't answer. He normally goes off to find Sandy, but today, he doesn't
want to. He starts shaking because he's getting really mad, like he doesn't
care about being good for Christmas anymore.
Then the boy with the striped shirt calls him a smelly faggot. He doesn't know
what a faggot is but he knows that he doesn't want to be one.
Pitch hits him in the nose like Dad showed him. Something clicks under his
knuckles and blood sprays out. It gets on his clothes and it stinks on his
face, but it feels so good. He knows he's strong when the boy falls down
crying. He is a real man like Dad, because only babies and pussies cry.
He kicks sand at the boy and tells him this. He laughs at the gurgling sound he
makes, then jumps on him so he can feel good again.
The boy's face is soft under his hand. It splits open and spews blood; his eyes
feel like balls of jelly until they swell shut. His jaw moves really hard to
the left and that makes the boy scream a lot. Pitch laughs.
He hits him until the screaming stops.
There are kids running away from him and it makes him feel good too. Pitch
stands up.
"Sandy!" he calls out, smiling so big that it hurts his cheeks. He's so strong
that he feels dizzy! "Sandy, did you see that?"
When there is no answer, no flash of gold and a warm smile, he turns around to
find his best friend. "Sandy, look! I got him good!"
Pitch Black is eight years old and standing in his once-favorite toy.
His fists are covered in blood and he is breathing hard. There are clumps of
hair between his fingers. All around him, the playground is silent except for
the shrill whistles of the teachers. One is on her phone.
She is crying and he likes that.
He looks around again, wanting to see pride in Sandy's eyes before he gets in
trouble for the first time that year.
But his heart is sinking like it does every time Mom makes him a grown-up.
He wants to throw up like he used to when Dad hit him hard enough to make him
bleed.
He sinks to his knees and buries his raw fists in the sand, and though he wants
to cry, he laughs and laughs and laughs.
Pitch Black is eight years old and he is completely alone.
***** Talk To Me *****
They were a little drunk when they stumbled in from dinner, arms tangled in an
intricate knot and ties crooked from a few sloppy kisses shared in the taxi.
Pitch managed to unlock their apartment door before Sandy dragged him in for
another mind-numbing kiss.
"Mmmn, I guess you liked dinner?" he breathed into that delightful mouth.
"Mnnope." Sandy stood on tiptoe and hugged him tight, sweet tongue wriggling
between Pitch's lips. "Dessert's much better."
As much as it pained him to do so, Pitch leaned back so he could get enough air
to his brain. "At least let me lock the door..!"
Sandy was on him again, kissing along his stomach and groping, stroking...
Pitch had enough time to slide the deadbolt shut before he gave in, returning
those greedy kisses with fervor. "I love you, you fiend."
"I love you, too," Sandy declared quietly, hands stilling over Pitch's neck.
After all, it was their first confession. They had been dating for a while, but
it seemed their relationship was just about to get serious.
He looked into his partner's eyes and licked his lips. "How about we consummate
our love...?" He leaned closer, to whisper into the slightly pointed ears (he
loved those, they made Pitch look like a fairy when he turned the right way).
"I want you."
The suggestion made him ache, hot desire spiking in his stomach. His sexuality
was still new and strange to him, and while he was definitely not a virgin,
he'd never enjoyed the full attentions of another man before. To say he was
nervous was a striking understatement.
Yet, as he leaned in to kiss those plump lips, there was a sense of "right",
too. He'd been lucky to find Sandy so soon after his divorce. The man was
everything Pitch never knew he needed, a gentle companion with a sharp wit and
a calm disposition. They'd fooled around for a year, just like teenagers, but
this was different. He knew that he wanted Sandy, Sandy wanted him, and it was
okay.
"Get back to that bedroom before I lose my mind." Pitch grinned wolfishly and
stripped off his jacket.
Sandy flashed him a toothy grin, revealing that endearing gap between his front
teeth and backed into said room, loosing articles of clothing all the way. By
the time Pitch entered as well, his golden cupid of a lover was already
kneeling on the bed clad in nothing else than a pair of boxer-briefs, his dress
shirt and a loose tie. His tiny fingers were battling with the buttons. Just
the thought of that fleshy chest beneath the white fabric made Pitch's mouth
water. Sandy was short and plump, but that made him only more desirable. He was
perfect for cuddling, grabbing, squeezing...
Sandy cocked his head and threw Pitch an irresistible 'come hither' look.
In pursuit, Pitch stripped himself with crisp efficiency, and folded his
clothes over one arm. He was tall and thin, and quite proud of a certain
characteristic: his cut penis was long and thick, over eight inches that curved
up at the tip when hard.
And he was hard now.
"Allow me," he purred, taking hold of Sandy's wrists and jerking them away. He
handled the buttons himself, his nimble fingers making short work of the little
dress shirt; his mouth worked over the lovely chest underneath, covering it
with soft suckles and kisses. "I can't wait to feel you.."
"Deep inside," Sandy breathed, throwing his arms around Pitch's neck and
nuzzling his hair. "I've waited for it patiently, and finally you'll be
mine..." His underwear was tenting nicely, thick cock straining against the
white fabric.
He kissed Pitch deeply, rubbing their tongues together forcefully.
He moaned softly and rubbed their cheeks together until he heard Sandy giggle.
"God, I can't wait to hear you beg."
Pitch seized the waistband of his underwear and jerked down hard, freeing
Sandy's adorable cock. He loved to touch it, able to roll the skin and play
with it like it was a toy, and Sandy? Sandy loved it too.
He guided Sandy's hand down so he could touch himself. The cute little slut
needed to feel good while Pitch prepped, after all.
After rolling a condom onto his cock, he slathered his length with lubricant.
Demonstrating what he'd learned from the gay pornography he had tentatively
watched, he drizzled some on Sandy's crack, too.
He wondered briefly why his hole didn't look the same as what he'd seen. It
wasn't shiny or soft-looking, and it didn't seem to want to open up, either.
Pitch pulled one of Sandy's legs up, grabbed himself, and pressed the thick
head to that opening. Men in porn were probably more used to anal sex, he
decided, gritting his teeth and bearing down to stuff his manhood inside.
"Hey, w- OW!" The blow came rather unexpectedly. Sandy, dear, gently, soft
little sandy promptly kicked Pitch in the jaw. That effectively stopped the
invasion and Sandy scooted back a little.
"What are you doing-?"
Once the stars faded from his vision, Pitch rushed to remedy the situation by
rubbing his cock so he wouldn't lose his erection. "I know it's big, but we'll
go slow," he soothed, rubbing a hand along the inside of Sandy's thigh.
Tooth had a hard time taking it too, but they eventually managed. He kissed
Sandy's cheek, leaned over, and tried to push his way inside again.
The small hands pushed against his chest with a surprising force.
"Wait! That's not how it works, ever heard of foreplay? Pitch- I haven't had
anybody for a year you know!" Sandy was frowning. "It's not going to work!"
He laughed a little breathlessly. "What, exactly, were we doing during the taxi
ride, then?"
Part of him was starting to worry, though. Pitch knew he was big, so shouldn't
that make everything feel better? "Do you, um.. need more lube?" He paused to
search for the bottle. "It'll be easier if you relax."
He gave a brief smile and squirted a bit of lube onto his fingertip. While he'd
never been keen on anal sex when he was married, he found touching Sandy's ass
wasn't a dirty chore. Especially since that he simply "touched", clumsily
applying the cool substance to that hole. "Is that better?"
"Errrr no." Sandy cocked a brow and sat up, supporting himself on his arms. "I
do love you and I do want to have sex with you until we both pass out, but I
think I have to ask this uncomfortable question first... You don't know
jackshit about gay sex, right...? Which is okay, nobody's born knowing, but...
this really isn't going to work like this."
Pitch flushed. His sexual prowess was a point of pride, and here he was,
finally having a chance to make love properly, and Sandy was being difficult.
"Maybe if you quit shoving me out, I could actually learn," he replied
defensively, "It's sex, not rocket science. I'm not an idiot."
Sandy's mouth twisted. "Alright darling, then slip those fingers inside, work
the lube in and stretch the hole. I don't mind you finger-fucking me first at
all. Rub the insides, cross your fingers... use a generous amount of lube,
too."
His mouth curled in horror. So he'd have to actually put his fingers inside...?
Pitch glanced down at his hands. It was only fair, he surmised. Sandy was going
to take something really big, so the least Pitch could do was touch him. ..in
there.
After nodding briefly, he squirted some more lube onto his fingers. He rubbed
Sandy with one, slowly circling his little hole, then eased it inside. It was
nowhere nearly as wet as he was used to, but it was hot and tight.
Eagerly, he added another finger just to feel Sandy squeeze them together. His
cock twitched to attention again, interested in the prospect of being squeezed
like this too. Pitch angled his wrist and shoved those two digits in further,
just to see how deeply Sandy could take it.
The round face twisted a little. "Nngh- gently, slowly! It hurts if you don't
pay attention..." He was relaxing though, breathing deeply- and the long
fingers could reach in quite far.
"T-turn your hand and try to find my prostate. I really like when somebody can
hit it... And your cock seems perfect for that."
He frowned and tried to obey, though he wilted at the suggestions. No one had
ever corrected him during sex before. At first he considered that perhaps Sandy
had a low pain threshold, but the little fiend requested to be spanked hard
sometimes. So maybe.. maybe Pitch was too rough.
Tooth never complained, his brain supplied helpfully. At the thought, he pushed
his fingers in and twisted. If Sandy would just calm down, Pitch could make him
like it! "What, you can come from being fingered?" he teased, "Just like a
girl.."
Sandy gently gripped Pitch's wrist, pulled it away, sat up and glared. "Okay,
who are you and what have you done to my Pitch."
"What-?"
"We have spent a year with dating, I fell in love with you, everything was
perfect and now we're about to have sex and suddenly you're an inconsiderate
bastard."
It felt like a slap to the face.
Pitch sat back, wide-eyed at first, then gradually, his shock gave way to hurt.
"What are you talking about?" he snapped, angrily wiping his hand on the
bedsheets. "You're the one criticizing everything I've tried to do since we've
gotten in bed, and -I'm- the inconsiderate one?!"
No one had ever complained before. Given, he hadn't taken more than three or
four people to bed, but still! He'd screwed up a marriage and fatherhood, and
to find out he was screwing up sex was a blow to his pride.
"Yes, you're inconsiderate. You have no idea how to have sex right, that's
okay, you can learn. But never, ever compare a gay man to a woman, okay?"
Sometimes his mouth worked faster than his mind did, but this was not one of
those times. He was offended, hurt, and humiliated, so the vindictive part of
his psyche started working doubletime to come up with the worst possible thing
he could say.
"There really is no comparison," he began, voice dripping with deceptive
sweetness, "I've never come across a woman who bitches quite as much as you
do."
Sandy smiled back just as sweetly. "Your ex-wife must be an angel."
He climbed off the bed and began to dress without another word.
"She certainly didn't have a problem with my cock." Pitch was beyond angry now:
at himself for even getting into this fight and at Sandy for his lack of
reaction.
He climbed to his feet too, but didn't bother with dressing. Instead, he
stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the walls
of their little lovenest. "Say hello to Jack for me! Maybe he'll fuck you like
you want!"
Pitch knew he was being overly aggressive, and his words didn't really mean
anything, but he couldn't control his mouth. He peeled off the wasted condom
and threw it in the trash.
Sandy would never fuck anyone else. Even after a disaster like this, he was too
good a man to even consider cheating.
Pitch climbed into the shower, turning the hot water on full blast, and leaned
against the cool tile so he could blink the stinging out of his eyes.
He couldn't even hear the door closing.
--------------------------------------
 
And he didn't hear anything for days about Sandy. There were no calls, no
texts, no e-mails. It was taunting him. Sandy obviously wanted him to make the
first move, but Pitch Black had his pride.
He worked hard, pretending to ignore how much it bothered him by putting in
long hours and making half-hearted attempts to flirt. It all came to naught,
however, for every night he came home to an empty apartment.
He missed the shoes all over the floor and the clothes discarded willy-nilly
across -their- furniture. He missed the good cooking. He missed the warm body
pressed to his side. He missed that wide smile and the soft skin, how Sandy
croaked like a frog first thing in the morning, how he sang in the shower and
got embarrassed if he came out to find Pitch awake.
He missed their slow, sweet kissing.
In the end, Sandy and a bottle of wine won out against cursed pride. Pitch laid
stretched out in his couch, cell phone pressed to his ear, and choked on his
tears when a sweet voice answered:
"Hi daddy!"
"Hi, baby." In the background, the booming voice of her stepfather sounded in a
musical cadence, which made Seraphina giggle into the phone. "What's that crazy
man doing?"
"We're playing hide-and-seek, an' he can't find me."
"Oh, is that right? You always hide so well!" She giggled again, and the sound
warmed his heart. "Well, you better give the phone to mommy before he hears
you."
"Okay daddy. I love you!"
"Love you too."
He heard her call "time-out", and on tiny feet, she pitter-pattered through the
house.
"Thank you, Seraphina," Tooth's voice was high with laughter, which only grew
at the childish command of: "count again, okay?!"
"Hello?"
"Sounds like a circus over there," Pitch started, grinning around his very
manly, half-drunk tears.
"..Pitch, honey, what's wrong?"
He started to protest, but knew she'd figure it out sooner or later. Divorced
or not, they'd remained good friends. "Tooth, I fucked up."
He told the story through a weepy breakdown, minus the more pleasant details,
until he ended up at the here and now. "I don't know what to do. I never
thought I was a shitty lover--" he paused to blow his nose, "--but I must be
doing something wrong."
"...Well." Ana Feather Tooth was ever the diplomat. Pitch could faintly hear
her warning her current mate that she needed a few minutes of privacy.
"I don't want to hurt you dear, but, I have to admit, you lack a certain sense
of finery when it comes to the physical aspects of love. Funny you call me
about this, Sandy did the same two days ago."
He felt a twisted sense of pride knowing Sandy had buckled first, but it was
immediately tamped out by the knowledge that Sandy would've called to apologize
if -he'd- screwed up.
Which meant that Pitch had really done something wrong this time.
"Is he okay..?"
"Aside the fact that he had a brief crisis over whether you want to bang him at
all, he's good, and I managed to shake him out of that mindset as well. You
should solve this. He's a nice guy and he does a lot of good to you."
Any more thoughts of being in the right were blown away, replaced by a feeling
of deep, twisting guilt. Of course Sandy would blame himself...
"Tooth.. You're the only person I'm close enough to even ask this, but.. How do
I fix it? I lo-lo.. I mean, I care for him so much." He pinched the bridge of
his nose. "Tell me what to do to make things right."
"Pitch, honey, you just have to accept that men have feelings too, and they
make mistakes. You... well, you don't really pay attention to your partner's
needs. You don't talk. Communication is pretty important. Instead of just
forcing the pole into the hole and pound it, you could make sure if it doesn't
hurt. Sandy's not quite the masochistic type. Just talk to him, that is all.
Nobody's born knowing how to have really good sex." She paused. "I regret not
teaching you."
He swallowed hard. "It's not your fault. I probably would've reacted like I did
with Sandy." It remained unspoken that Pitch did not handle criticism very
well. "I'll go talk to him."
Honestly, he would've preferred staying home and sulking, but he missed that
little man enough that he'd prostrate himself before Jack and anyone else who
happened to be there.
"Thank you, Tooth." Before he ended the call, he decided to humble himself a
bit further. "I'm sorry we never talked. I could've saved you a lot of
heartache."
"You gave me a wonderful daughter, so all is forgiven."
He couldn't help but laugh. How could one man be so lucky? "I love you, Tooth.
Say hello to that old man of yours for me, and be sure to give Sera an extra
kiss for me, too."
Pitch tapped his phone to end the call.
He was nervous now, but he had a job to do. With his head held high, he set
about making himself presentable for a last-ditch effort at getting Sandy back.
There was a momentary look of surprise on Sandy's face once he opened the door,
but it subsided quickly, leaving calm indifference. "Hello Pitch. Long time no
see. What brought you here?"
He stood before his little boyfriend in a pair of well-tailored blue jeans, a
collar shirt, and a leather jacket overtop, a scarf bundled around his thin
neck. In his hands, Pitch held the most romantic thing he could think of: a
bouquet of sunflowers and daisies (the cliche arguably eclipsed by only roses).
He fidgeted from side to side.
"Please come home, Sandy."
"It's not that I'm against it... Jack makes horrible coffee. But, is it going
to work?"
All the blood in his face rushed to his feet. Pitch trembled where he stood,
but didn't budge or even lower his eyes. Sandy had every right to end it.
But what did Pitch have to lose by begging?
"Yes," he replied, though his voice cracked, "I love you, Sandy, and I want to
make things right--"
Tooth was spot-on. Pitch really was terrible at talking.
"I can't... I... I was wrong..." As his words tumbled over each other, he
dropped the flowers to his side. He was fucking this up badly. "I'm sorry."
Suddenly he was wrenched close into an embrace and a deep, enthusiastic kiss.
Sandy’s tongue invaded his mouth with barely contained hunger, and the contact
didn’t stop until Pitch was just about to see stars from the lack of oxygen.
“You stupid thing,” Sandy smiled fondly. “I missed you so much. It’s going to
be alright. I love you, with all your shortcomings.” He licked Pitch’s lips.
“Say... would you like to come in? Jack’s with his BF, I don't think he’ll come
home until late night if even then...”
Pitch nearly sobbed in relief, but he was determined to save face. As soon as
he caught his breath, he dropped the flowers and lunged.
Sandy was the perfect size, easily swept up in his arms, yet solid enough that
Pitch could have handfuls of what he wanted. He hauled his little boyfriend up
onto his hips, and sank his long fingers into that plump ass and soft thighs.
His kisses came fast and deep as he staggered inside, with barely enough mind
to kick the door closed.
"I hope we have the same idea," he hissed out, laying Sandy on the couch and
climbing on top of him, all the while shucking his jacket and scarf. "I've been
going crazy..."
His long fingers slipped over Sandy's front, where they rubbed his nipples
through his shirt. "Let me have you, Sandy."
"I sure hope you read up on the topic," his lover teased but the speed he was
trying to get out of his clothes spoke about how enthusiastic he just was.
"Then again, I have a little surprise for you."
Pitch couldn't remember the last time he wanted someone so badly. The final
button on his shirt stubbornly refused to vacate its perch, so he simply jerked
the garment open with a satisfying 'pop'.
"So you were expecting me." He seized Sandy by his hips, pulling him forward
and rolling up his lower half in one motion. Then his mouth was on his groin,
where it hungrily kissed and licked through the fabric of his pants. Pitch
didn't often give oral sex, but if there was any time to pull out all the
stops, it was now. His eyes flicked up. "You bad boy, what did you do?"
"You'll just have to find out." Sandy quickly freed his erection from under
layers of clothing, licking his lips. This was a rare treat indeed, and he was
looking forward to it.
Normally there was a bit of hesitation on Pitch's part, as he still wasn't
entirely accustomed to the prospect of having another man's penis in his mouth.
But today, he didn't even bat an eyelash; he wrapped his arms around Sandy's
waist, pulled him up a bit higher, and swallowed him to the root like he was
starving for it.
Once inside, it was so easy to fuck that little dick. He was salivating rather
heavily, making slick, wet noises as he abused every inch with his tongue. The
taste was clean, yet potent, and he dribbled so adorably that Pitch had to lean
back every now and again to swallow. "I want you so badly," he breathed, before
nuzzling into Sandy's heavy balls.
"M-me, too... Let me get out of these..." Sandy was adorably flushed, skin hot
from arousal. Once the pants were out of the way, he spread his legs wide and
grinned, licking his lips. "I saved us some time."
Indeed, that little hole looked a lot more like those one could see in porn.
All pink, soft and inviting.
Their eyes met, nothing but pleased amusement written over Pitch's face. "Look
at this slutty hole," he murmured, sliding the tip of his finger around Sandy's
small opening. "You'll have to let me open it up for you myself someday."
It was still a little strange, he thought, to slide his fingers inside. But it
didn't cause panic like before. He simply rolled his hand over and angled the
long digits up toward Sandy's bladder.
It didn't take long until Sandy's eyes widened and he gasped with delight.
"Ohf- yes, there, right there...!" He licked his lips again and shoved his hand
behind the pillows of the couch. After a little fumbling, he produced a tube he
passed to Pitch.
"Slicken up and get inside. I want you to fuck me."
He regretted going so long without knowing what a little prostate massage could
do. "Put your fingers inside while I get ready." He used his deep, dominating
tone that he usually saved for more aggressive situations, though it had a
pleasant effect here, too.
They locked eyes while both men prepared, Sandy with two fingers stuffed inside
and Pitch with his long hand around his thick, imposing cock.
"I want to do this to you every night." He guided the broad head to Sandy's
hole, and after shooing away his fingers, fed him inch by thick, throbbing
inch. God, he was so tight! "I'll keep your greedy ass satisfied, and you'll
love it, won't you?"
"Pitch dear?" Sandy's smile was tight, but thankfully only from the pleasure.
Or so Pitch hoped.
"You still have a lot to learn, so shut it and love me." He curled his arms
around his lover's neck. "Gently first, okay? You should feel when it's alright
to speed up."
He flushed, but rather than take offense, he simply filed away a future goal:
one of these days, Sandy was going to take his dirty talk and fucking love it.
But for now, he slid onto his knees, put his arms around Sandy, and leaned in
to kiss him. He lowered his hips slowly, gaining entry with gentle, easy
thrusts that made Sandy open up around him.
It felt wonderful. Muffling a groan, he hid his face in Sandy's chest.
His hair was caressed, temple nuzzles, and Sandy made the sweetest little moans
and mewls right into his ear.
"I love you Pitch, I love you so much. You feel so good. Make me scream." He
shifted his hips and whimpered as his balls pressed against Pitch's stomach.
He gradually built up speed, eyes sliding shut as their hips danced together.
Sandy took him so easily, but he was still incredibly tight, wrapped so snug
around him...
"God.." He held Sandy tight, hips rocking forward to bury himself in again and
again, in to the hilt and out, until he was pounding that pretty, warm body.
Judging by all the panting and moaning, he was doing something right. The dance
continued for a while getting more and more passionate; Sandy cried out,
grabbed Pitch tighter... Each following cry was a little louder and the small
body tensed up until Sandy's nails dug painfully into Pitch's nape.
"Y-yes, please, I'm so close...! Pitch, oh Pitch, make me come, make me come!"
Pride and pleasure all rolled up into dizzying ecstasy, making his hips jerk
harder, faster, bringing him down into Sandy until they were both crying out.
He pounded wildly, until his orgasm took him and he saw nothing but stars.
Consciousness returned slowly, and Pitch became aware of the cooling wetness on
his stomach. Sandy was watching him, panting and smiling, his golden brown eyes
soft and satisfied. They did it, He did it. And it felt damn awesome.
When Sandy spoke up, his voice was a purr. "Thank you."
Pitch grinned back, sleepy and thoroughly spent, then slid down to kiss his
little boyfriend's mouth. "Pleasure's all mine. That was a fine ride."
He leaned in for something he secretly liked best: hands in his hair and gentle
cuddles.
***** Double Dealings *****
Chapter Notes
     Note 1: the following piece was written according to the best
     traditions of Victorian porn. All the purple prose is intentional.
     Deal with it.
     Note2: Don't try this at home, kids.
"Why don't you sit down, Miss Sandy? I was just going to read this fascinating
book aloud to improve my diction."
"Alright." The lovely governess nodded with a smile and settled down on the
couch. Pitch, the more mischievous of the Pitchiner twins seldom found it
necessary to practice without prompting; apparently, it was a really good book
that have captured his attention. Miss Sandy arranged her skirt and nodded,
“Please, go on.”
"Ahem. 'I dreamed of him again and woke with my body burning. I curse myself
for desiring him so, but I cannot fight the ache any longer. I long for his
lips upon me, of those skilled pianist fingers buried deep inside, stroking me
until I make sweet music for him--"
The color drained from her face. Wait, she knew that book- “Th-that's enough-
" she protested, but the devilish child paid no heed.
"I dream of giving myself to this beautiful young man. I wish to feel his
perfect prick against my most secret place, and to cry out his name: 'Kozmotis!
Kozmotis!'" Pitch looked up and grinned with ill-hidden malice.
"It's a shame that father is going to fire you over this. You write so well and
you seem eager to educate my brother."
The governess jumped up and snatched the leatherbound volume - her own private
journal - from the young man's hands. She hugged it close to her ample bosom,
cheeks a burning red, like prized roses.
"I have never witnessed anything more rude than what you have done right now!
Stealing a lady's journal, unheard of! Go back to your studies and don't even
dream of showing your face again until dinner!" She was using her authoritative
voice, that often sent both boys running in the past five years. Her trembling
lips and the strange shine in her eyes belied her inner turmoil though.
For the first time since her arrival, Pitch didn't bat an eyelash at her raised
voice. If anything, her fury just seemed to antagonize him, to encourage him,
for his leer widened even further. "This is nothing you can hope to remedy by
denying me dessert," he purred, suddenly appearing much taller than his
fifteen-year-old frame truly was, "Shall we compare sins, Miss Sandy? I stole
your journal; -you- wish to steal my beloved brother's innocence."
Tilting his head, the fiend tutted disapprovingly. "If you wish to gather even
more attention to yourself, by all means continue to shout. Otherwise, lower
your voice like a good girl and we will discuss an appropriate exchange."
"There's nothing to exchange. I have done nothing!" the governess protested,
taking a step back. She still hoped that reasoning will settle this; but she
knew that Pitch was persistent in his scheming, and if he really wanted, he
could easily talk his father into throwing her out... What's worse, the Lord
Pitchiner would ruin her good reputation if for no other reason, than out of
sheer spite. And all this for some innocent fantasies...!
"Father will have a different perspective, no doubt." Lifting his chin, Pitch
looked ever the handsome devil as he brushed his hand through his carefully-
combed hair. "And when I mention that strange scent lingering on your fingers
when you exit your rooms, or the lewd sounds coming from your bedchamber at
night, he will have no choice but to dismiss you to the streets where you
belong."
After straightening his tie and fixing her with a level stare, he rested his
hand on the doorknob. "I can be much more accommodating than Father, Miss
Sandy. You've one last chance to reconsider before I take my concerns directly
to his study."
Her humiliation was just about complete. Miss Sandy clutched her journal and
bit her plump lower lip. "Fine, you little blackguard, fine!" She couldn't let
this ruin her, she was still young with hopefully a husband and family waiting
somewhere in the future.
"What do you want from me?"
His eyes seemed to glow with a hellish light as he turned back to her. The
self-satisfied smirk on his handsome face was enough to enrage her, but for the
sake of her future, she held her tongue and her hand in careful check.
"I want you to fulfill your fantasies."
Her eyes widened. "What-?" She shook his head. "You cannot make me commit a
crime! How do you even- I'm not going to- force myself on an innocent child!
You can't hate your brother that much."
His laughter rang out as sweet as a silver bell. The brothers looked so much
alike that it made her heart ache; more than once, she had been rendered
speechless by Kozmotis’ mirth, and now, that beautiful young man looked to be
just within reach. "Certainly not! A respectable woman such as yourself would
never dream of doing so terrible a thing."
The smile he shared with Pitchiner faded, and he approached her with predatory
intent. His hand snaked out to grab her left breast. "He desires you," the
devil hissed, as he roughly caressed her, "It would bring him such happiness to
have you. I love my brother and I will give him -everything- he desires, even
if it includes a wretch like you."
Her cheeks flushed again, this time with anger. Enduring such a degrading,
condescending manner was not something she usually put up with.
"See what he says to it," she hissed. "If he wants me, so be it!" She wasn't
entirely sure if that would be a good thing or not.
His thumb brushed over the mound of her breast, with such deceptive tenderness
that it made her skin prickle. "After dinner, you will bathe. I want you to
wear your nicest nightgown and robe, and to apply that flowery fragrance he
likes so much." Pitch's hand moved to her cheek. "Wear your hair down. He
thinks you look best that way. No lipstick, no rouge, no undergarments. You
will meet us in our chambers, and--" He arched his brow. "--bring that journal
of yours."
The words rang utterly filthy in her ears and for some reason, left her
lightheaded. She nearly fainted. To think that the gentle young Kozmotis would
behold her like that...! She knew that she was pretty, her form deliciously
plump and feminine, her hips wide, her breasts round and her hair cascading
down to her waist in gossamer golden waves. The child won't be able to resist.
Her fantasies will be coming true...
But it was not a proper thought and Miss Sandy shuddered, inching away from the
evil twin. "A-alright. I'll do as you say," she admitted in defeat.
"Always a reasonable lass." Pitch bowed at the waist, and with all the charms
of a debonair young man, scooped up her hand to gently kiss the knuckles. "May
I be dismissed?"
"Yes, yes, go... just go," Sandy breathed, her insides trembling. The brothers
were equally dashing, and their beauty always made her swoon - very politely of
course, she was a governess after all, and had an image to keep.
As soon as he left, she dashed off as well, to her own room - which was nothing
more than a tiny addition to the boys' own bedroom, separated by only a thin
door - to collapse on the bed and sob, trying to deal with all the conflicting
feelings.
                    ---------------------------------------
“Really, Pitch, I'm quite tired. Can't you amuse yourself this evening?"
"No."
Kozmotis let out a long-suffering sigh, his back to the spoiled twin as he
changed into more appropriate sleepwear. His skin was still warm from his time
in the sun, kissed gold and flushed red on the tips of his ears and long nose;
he'd had quite the hunt that day--Miss Sandy would be impressed by the fox he'd
managed to snare! Perhaps he could have its skin made into a nice shawl or
muff.. "Then what do you propose we do?" Kozmotis buttoned his shirt, then
proceeded to shrug on a robe. "Father is out for the evening, our friends are
on holiday, and the servants have all retired for the night."
Pitch was seated on his bed, eyes narrowed in a predatory way. "I thought we
could hear a story."
"We're too old for bedtime stories."
"Miss Sandy wanted to share one," replied Pitch with a strange smile. "She was
so excited to spend some time with us, I didn't have the heart to tell her no."
Immediately, Kozmotis felt his cheeks start to darken. "I understand that. When
will she be arriving?"
As if on cue, after two timid knocks, the thin door blending near seamlessly
into the wall opened and the governess slipped in. Her hair was set free, her
tresses freshly brushed and shining like spun gold and she wore her
nightclothes, a long white gown and a soft robe that did a poor job hiding her
cleavage. Her golden cheeks were flushed and she was indeed clutching a book;
she didn't make an attempt to draw any closer.
"Good evening," she breathed politely, eyes lowered as she studied the carpet's
patterns intently. A light, flowery fragrance curled around her - just as
requested.
Pitch slid to his feet, and in tandem, both boys straightened up respectfully.
Kozmotis' breath shook as he bowed his head toward her, heart racing even when
he wasn't looking anymore.
"You look beautiful," he managed dumbly, while the image of her angelic
appearance burned itself forever in his mind. He pulled a chair from his desk
and offered it to her. "Please have a seat."
"May I take your robe?" Pitch suggested. Kozmotis felt a pang of some dark
protectiveness that he couldn't immediately understand. "I was just telling
Kozzy here about a story you were going to read to us. Have you decided which
passage you would like to share?"
She was hesitant to walk closer but at the proposition, she stopped dead in her
tracks, eyes wide in terror as she stared at Pitch. "You didn't say anything
about reading...!" she protested. "I can't- I can't read this." She squeezed
her eyes shut and shook her head. Now way. These were her most secret thoughts,
sharing them aloud would make them turn filthy! She wouldn't have minded the
boys reading them, not that much. But she knew her voice would break at the
first few words, anyway.
Kozmotis looked confused, which was a good sign. That meant Pitch hadn't run to
his brother with news of his discovery, so there was still a chance..!
"That's a shame." Pitch's voice dripped with honey-sweet concern. "I was hoping
you would be cooperative. It can't be helped, I suppose."
He gave a gentle smile. "When Father returns, would you like to speak to him
first, or should I?"
"Pitch.. Miss Sandy, what is going on?" Kozmotis' fine brow furrowed as he
looked between the two. "Pitch, what have you done?!"
"I can't!" she cried out, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. "Read it if
you want, or give it to Kozmotis, but I'm not able to-" She turned her head
away with a soft hiccup and held out the journal hesitantly. "Have some
mercy...!"
Kozmotis marched over to his governess and curled his arms around her gently.
"Shame on you for troubling Miss Sandy so much!" he declared, glaring at his
brother. "I have no idea what is going on, but it stops now!" He looked down at
her and gulped as her lovely scent hit him. "It's alright, Miss Sandy..."
She trembled terribly in his warm arms, ashamed for her outburst but enjoying
his defense nonetheless. His fingers rubbed those hot tears away, gentle as
could be.
"This is how you repay me for my gift to you?" Pitch snarled, snatching the
journal from their governess. "You long for her and I have given her to you,
now you dare spit in my face?!"
Kozmotis' eyes widened. "What are you--"
"She desires you." Just as quickly as that burst of anger had come, it faded.
Pitch cracked open the journal to scan the pages. "'I saw him in the bath
today, and though I turned away, I was able to glimpse his most promising
charms.'"
"Pitch, stop--" Kozmotis stepped away, grabbing for the book. "This isn't
right!"
But Pitch batted his hand away and continued reading. "He is more a man at
fifteen than my ex-fiance of twenty, sculpted like a Greek god and endowed so
mercifully that my body quivers to think about it."
"Pitch!"
"'My mouth waters to think of one day tasting him, my beautiful Kozmotis
Pitchiner!'"
In the following silence, her quiet little sobs sounded like screams. Sandy
clutched Kozmotis' hand tight. "I'm sorry, my darling," she whispered. "I
shouldn't have written that down. You are such a handsome young man, I allowed
my thoughts to wander. Forgive me."
"M-miss Sandy..." Kozmotis' eyes were wide, confused. His cheeks slowly started
to darken with blood as the meaning of the words sank in. He was speechless;
but her hold on her didn't loosen. In fact, he moved a little bit closer to the
lovely governess.
"Shall I read more, my brother, or do you understand now?" The book snapped
shut in Pitch's wicked hand. "She is my gift to you. She agreed to make you
into a man tonight!"
"She agreed, or she was coerced?" Kozmotis turned to his beloved governess and
held both her hands in his. "Forgive me and my brother. We are but children
sometimes."
Behind him, Pitch fumed. "Kozmotis!"
"They are your thoughts and should have never been shared without your
permission. I apologize."
“You are such a gentleman,” Sandy lowered her head. “However... Your brother
has both of us in his grip, we must do his bidding.“ She looked up, golden-
brown eyes washed by tears and a timid little smile tugging at her trembling
lips. “If you’d like it, my dear... I’d gladly make you a man. It’s better me
than some easy lass from the first street corner once you go to the city.”
The young Kozmotis' golden eyes flashed with anger, and he abandoned her to
round on his brother. "It wasn't supposed to be like this! You fiend!"
He startled Pitch with an open-handed slap, then seized him by the collar
before he could react. "Return her journal to her, or I'll lay you flat!"
She expected to see fear in Pitch's face, but the lad merely regarded his
brother with a look of tenderness. "Kozmotis.." he breathed, as he gently
brushed their lips together, "She wants you. It would make her so happy if you
were to take her."
Kozmotis froze.
"Tell him, Miss Sandy," Pitch continued, "Tell him that you desire him
tonight."
The governess hugged herself tight and a trembling sigh escaped her lips. She
was a pretty, healthy young woman cooped up on an estate a good hour away from
the city, why would anybody hold it against her if she sometimes allowed
herself to look? And the young Kozmotis was indeed a handsome lad, muscles
developed by manly games, manners carefully chiseled by dutiful goversesses...
Yes, she wanted him, so bad, to love that tender flesh, to gently ease him into
manhood, acquaint them with love's many ways...
"Pitch is right, my dear," she admitted finally. "Everything I've written is
true... I- d-desire you. Please... please let me love you tonight."
There was silence between the three of them, with Kozmotis' shoulders in a
tight line and Pitch still barely hiding his sickening pride.
Though slowly, Kozmotis released his brother. "I hate you, Pitch."
"I know." The fiend smoothed down his shirt, then circled Sandy and Kozmotis
until he stood behind their lovely governess. "But taste her lips. She's denied
us nothing, so it would be poor manners to not provide her something in
return."
When he turned to face her, his eyes were dark with desire. Licking his lips,
Kozmotis slid his arms around her and drew her near, crushing her feminine
shape to his chest.
That firmness was unfamiliar, and it startled her - but curiously, it did
nothing to quiet the flames flashing in her belly. Hands splayed out over his
chest, she looked up into his eyes, shivering at the lust shining in the
golden-green gaze. She politely closed her eyes and her lips parted, hungry for
a kiss.
Hands slid around her waist from behind, but before they could lock, she was
pulled out of their grasp and held tight. His mouth was hot and firm, gently
kneading over her gasping lips, taking its sweet time in exploring all the
charms she had to offer.
Against her front, she could feel a promising hardness swelling against her.
His breath trembled over Sandy's cheek, as he spread her lips with a nimble
tongue, then pressed inside to taste her fully.
It looked like the lad had some practice... And it was no question how he
acquired that. Sandy had seen the twins sharing kisses, in fact, she just
witnessed a tender contact between them... And as the mental image emerged, the
two boys cuddling in bed, tasting each other, she couldn't suppress a moan. She
pressed closer, to feel the evidence of desire, feeling nearly naked with only
two layers of clothing covering her. Her arms sneaked around Kozmotis' neck,
holding on to him and surrendering her mouth to his attacks. He tasted so fresh
and clean.
Their tongues waltzed lazily together--even now, he was so polite, so
incredibly gentle with her, even when his body promised to penetrate her more
deeply than she'd ever been taken before. So when she felt hands sliding down
the backs of her thighs (then back up, tracing everything), she knew that the
roughness was not his. Pitch peeled her robe off, and with a low chuckle,
pressed to her back.
"Good girl," he murmured, as he reached around to cup both her large breasts in
his hands. "You're treating my brother so well."
Kozmotis shuddered, and after a moment, took hold of her ass so he could hold
her steady while grinding up against her. Pitch's mouth settled at the juncture
of her neck, where it spouted despicable promises between kisses.
Soon enough she was trembling with need, tiny moans reverberating in her
throat. The double amount of stimulation was stealing her reason and she wished
for nothing more than to be gently stripped and loved fiercely, until she
couldn't even think.
The brothers did everything together... The next mental image that appeared
made the governess flinch and whimper into Kozmotis' mouth. It was not exactly
how she expected her first tryst with the young Pitchiner, but she couldn't
bring herself to mind the turn of events.
"Kozmotis," Pitch murmured across their governess, voice soft with need.
Without needing further explanation, his twin broke the kiss with Sandy and
guided her chin to the side. Immediately, her swollen mouth was captured in a
sharp embrace, teeth and tongue unwilling to give her even a moment to breathe.
She felt the bodice of her gown loosen, and before she could react, her breasts
were bared to the heated air. One of the brothers covered her left breast with
his palm, while Kozmotis dipped down to kiss her chest with absolute reverence.
Her knees felt like jelly. She have never thought of having two lovers at the
same time, but it was definitely something worth trying! Her fingers sank into
dark tresses, giving both heads some gentle attention. When Pitch finally
pulled away for air, she used the momentary pause to plead.
"Have some mercy lads, I can barely stand...! This teasing is horrible. My
whole body is burning, please... let me lay down. And... let me see you
handsome young devils. It's not fair, to have a poor woman on display and give
her nothing."
They communicated rather strangely, she thought; sometimes, merely by locking
eyes, they were able to come to a simultaneous conclusion without ever saying a
word. She beheld it now, with the handsome boys staring at one another for a
moment, then speaking in tandem: "Of course, Miss Sandy."
Kozmotis gave her rear one more squeeze and stepped back to carefully guide her
to one of their beds. She normally knew which bed belonged to whom, but all
memory was cast aside when Pitch seized his brother around the waist. "No, no.
I want her to enjoy it," he soothed when Kozmotis gave a start.
"You promised not to do this anymore."
Pitch snorted and pressed his palms flat to Kozmotis' lower belly. "Miss Sandy
wants to see."
After a moment's hesitation, Kozmotis ducked his head, nodded, and bit his lip
to stifle a groan. Pitch's hand was between his legs, gently rubbing his
manhood; the other hand slid up his tunic, dragging the cloth across a chiseled
abdomen laved in gold.
She gasped, eyes wide and clasped both her hands over her mouth, even
forgetting about her exposed breasts, but she absolutely couldn't tear her gaze
from the sinfully beautiful sight. Kozmotis stretched in his brother's embrace,
nuzzling him gently and opening up his lips obediently once Pitch tried to
claim them.
The young devil's hand never rested, and it was so gentle, tracing his twin's
hard flesh with featherlight touches, only to make it more engorged. His other
hand smoothed and caressed, tugging the thin clothes up to the smooth chest and
pinching the nipples - an action that made them both groan.
Miss Sandy have witnessed a curious, mystical bond between the twins before -
then one fell and his his knee on the hard floor, the other cried out as well.
As if they had been two halves of the same soul, despite their differences in
behavior and intentions, they worked well together.
She knew she was dripping wet by now and her hand longed to creep under the
nightgown and plunge into her snatch to ease the burning need. She squirmed,
pressing her thighs together and... feeling a little envious of the boys. They
were having quite a bit of fun.
Kozmotis breathed an apology to her, eyes misty in arousal, but he couldn't
seem to pull from Pitch's mouth. Not that she could fault him. Without needing
to be told, he held his arms up so Pitch could peel his tunic away.
"You've found yourself a perfect lover," Pitch teased as he marched his twin to
the bed, so he stood within reach. "She hasn't been able to take her eyes from
your prick this entire time."
With that, Pitch fished out the impressive length, all flushed and dripping
with need. As Kozmotis shuddered in his grasp, the devil twin gave him a few
rough strokes. "Don't you want to touch it, Miss?"
Pitch was surely a fallen angel bent on destroying souls - his suggestion ate
its way right through her brain, rooting there and making her obey. She reached
out and touched the hard penis. Fifteen years old or not, Kozmotis was
definitely a grown man in this regard.
She petted the handsome erection, brushing the skin further back over it. His
semen wetted her palm as she gently rubbed the head. She glanced up, curious to
see the expression on that youthful face - did he like it? He was so hot and
hard as marble, longer than her entire palm - he would feel like heaven in her
throbbing cunny...!
"Hnnn...! Your hand is so soft!" Kozmotis sagged against his brother, head
pillowed by his chest. Lips parted and eyes closed, he looked like a man
drowning at sea, helpless to the waves that drew him further into decadence.
Pitch held his testicles, rolling them in his palm while Kozmotis continued to
drip down her hand. "Look at her, brother," Pitch hissed; Kozmotis obeyed, face
flushed and pupils blown as he raised his head up, "She's ready for you. I can
smell her."
Nodding toward her, he pushed his brother forward onto the bed, then dropped to
his knees. Pitch hauled her skirt up, and without further ceremony, pressed his
long fingers against her soaked snatch. When he held them up, glistening in the
low light, Kozmotis immediately sucked the digits into his mouth. "Lay back,
Miss Sandy. You don't intend to leave your nightgown on, do you?"
She basically didn't have the time to object. Sandy just shook her head and
pulled the garment over her head, finally exposing herself to both her young
lovers - because she had no doubt that Pitch will help himself with the treat
offered, whether she liked it or not.
Truth to be told, she didn't mind it that terribly.
As she laid down, the boys could observe her deliciously feminine form with
luscious hips and full breasts. Her skin was near flawless with only a few
birthmarks on her thighs and the underside of her breasts; and her lap was
adorned with a patch of thick golden curls, a garden obscuring her gate. Her
long hair covered the pillow and her hands rested next to her head, pearly
teeth worrying over her lower lip - she looked like a nymph surrendering to a
pair of young, eager gods.
Nary a breath passed between them before they were upon her, wet tongues and
hungry lips ravishing her pale skin, fingers and palms stroking every inch that
had ever been forbidden to them. They took turns sliding their fingers into her
slippery body, curling the digits up to explore her, then sliding them out to
feed her juices to the other's mouth.
Pitch finally lunged for her breast, suckling with sinful noises while Kozmotis
generously stroked him through his pants. "She tastes sweeter below--" Pitch
gasped, and with only that direction, Kozmotis lowered his mouth to taste her
secret. "The little bump will make her squeal, hnnn--!"
Pitch tilted his head back, crying out as Kozmotis finally pressed his bare
hand to his manhood; at the same time, the gentleman's nimble tongue found her
little button and flicked over it, too.
She all but squealed indeed, legs spreading to invite him closer, deeper
inside. She tugged Pitch up for a seething kiss - their previous ministrations
and the pleasure that followed clouded her mind enough that she ceased to see a
difference. Those boys were both her lovers, both of them wanting her and she
wanting them.
"My little angels," she panted, "Take me to heaven, love me to the fullest...!
You set me on fire... put it out now, please!"
"Kozmotis.." Pitch was so very generous for once, sliding out of the way so his
beloved brother could have his chance at their prize. He was every bit a man,
desire etched into every aspect of his being as he settled between her spread
thighs. "Be gentle with her. A lady is like a delicate flower."
Kozmotis nodded briefly, taking himself in hand. Pitch knelt beside their
governess, and after slipping his palms across her breasts, traced her body
down to the golden patch laid bare and wet. His nimble fingers spread her cunny
open. "Here.."
One last fearful look flashed over Kozzy's handsome face. Sandy chased it away
with a loving smile. "Claim me," was all she remembered saying before he guided
himself to her opening and pushed the very soul from her body.
She was no stranger to physical love, yet he stretched her like she was a
virgin again. Her walls dragged along the thick girth of his manhood,
swallowing him up with a great deal of work from the both of them. "Oh--
god...!!" Kozmotis choked out, eyes shut in bliss.
"Deeper, brother. She needs it all the way inside."
"Y-yes," she panted, clutching the lad's strong arms like a lifeline. "Fill me
up, please... Oh, you are so big, a real man already!"
Kozmotis flushed lightly at the praise and obeyed like a good child, not
stopping until he was inside as far as it was possible. "It's so hot, Miss
Sandy...!" he panted. "Oh, you grip me so tight, it is like heaven...!"
When at last they were fully coupled, Kozmotis took a moment to catch his
breath. He was throbbing inside of her, hot and virile, yet she knew well that
she contributed at least somewhat to his condition: he was shaking all over,
flushed clear down to his shoulders.
"You can make her sing for you," the Devil purred, his kisses falling over the
both of them like hot rain. With his forefinger, Pitch B. Pitchiner pointed out
a spot a few inches beneath her navel, very close to her bladder. "Aim here."
Kozmotis nodded and pulled his hips back with care. When he thrust in again,
she saw stars. To his twin's surprised grunt, Pitch laughed: "She's even
tighter now, isn't she? You're making her feel even better--now please her,
Kozmotis!"
With the fiend's encouragement, Kozzy took to her with a wild abandon she never
anticipated, battering that blessed spot with short, fast strokes.
Every single thrust wrung a squeal from her; she have never felt like this
before! How did that fiend know about that spot...? Moreover, combined with the
previous treatment, she was close already... it didn't take many of the young
Kozmotis' enthusiastic thrusts to make her come, back arching and lovely voice
rising as she pleaded to all the angels above, begging for mercy.
She was shaking like a leaf, eyes glossed over by bliss, swollen, kissable lips
wide open for deep gasps.
Even as she rode out her bliss, Kozmotis didn't slow down for a moment. He took
her so hard, so fast, that she was beginning to spike again when Pitch spoke:
"Easy, brother. Easy."
Kozmotis sagged into his brother's embrace, trembling violently and whimpering
with such need that it broke her heart. "Please don't--"
"Ssshh.." Pitch stroked his damp hair, speaking words of damnably gentle love.
"Tell him what he did, Miss Sandy. Tell him why you're dripping all over our
bed."
Long fingers rested on Kozmotis' hips, steering them forward into her body.
Under Pitch's control, the movements were agonizingly slow.
"Y-you... fucked me so well..." she whimpered, unable to resist the devil's
commands. "Your prick all but impaled me and it felt so good...! Please...
please do it again, oh Kozmotis, my darling angel...!"
He started to jerk forward again, but was stopped by Pitch's arms around his
waist. "Not yet."
With a groan, Kozmotis slipped out, then rolled onto his side to catch his
breath. Sandy was given no such luxury.
With a hand on her ankle and another at her breast, Pitch slammed against that
delicate spot too. "You're going to take us both, governess," he breathed,
their bodies slapping together as he too grew slick from her fluids. "I want to
see you on top of him--you'll do anything I say, won't you?"
"Yes- I'd do anything to please him...!" She moved into the thrusts, aching for
another orgasm. Pitch was not a breath less developed than his twin. His stabs
gave just as much pleasure, though he seemed considerably less breathless than
Kozmotis. At fifteen, he was already a skilled lover.
He delivered a sharp slap to her breast and bore into her even harder, his
thrusts bringing her hips up off the bed. "To please -him-, hm?"
Pitch glanced to his twin, and again they shared one of their silent
conversations. His hips slowed, letting her gain control of herself while
Kozmotis rolled over to lay on his back. He was still deliciously hard as he
waited for her. "Mount him," snapped Pitch.
She needed a moment or two to catch her breath, but she obeyed, struggling up
and crawling over to Kozmotis. Her thighs were glistening with her juices as
she straddled him, gently seizing his prick and guiding it inside. Her breath
hitched as she sank to sit on his thighs, the hard flesh sliding in with ease
now, to fit snugly into her channel. She splayed her hands out on his muscled
stomach and rolled her luscious hips to settle him perfectly. Her hair tumbled
over her shoulders like a curtain, sticking to her sweaty back and obscuring
her breasts.
"Does it feel good, darling?" she inquired breathlessly, smiling at her young
lover. "You fill me up so deliciously..."
"Yes miss," whispered he, "So good, miss." He looked stricken with fever, but
she knew there was no need for concern. He held her so tenderly, palms like
velvet over her hips, and instead of forcing her movements (as his brother
did), he guided her to slide up and down, up and down.
It felt more like love-making than blackmail. He seemed so concerned with her
expression, watching every movement with intelligent calculation. So when he
discovered how much she enjoyed being filled to the brim, he thrust his hips up
to give her just that.
"Do you regret denying yourself this for so long?" Pitch murmured, hands hot
and strangely slick on her backside. He even touched that filthy place,
stroking her slowly.
"Everything happens in due time," she replied, moaning as Kozmotis brushed
against that spot again. "What regret should I feel now that I'm being loved by
such angels?" Granted, one was a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.
"What... are you doing, Pitch?" she asked, shuddering at his touches. To her
surprise, they were half as repulsive as she would have suspected.
His mouth was deceptively soft against the shell of her ear. "I have never been
one to sit back and idle when my brother is involved. I want to help bring him
into manhood."
His fingertip gently swirled over her opening; at the same moment it pressed
inside, his free hand found her clitoris. "You remember where I showed you to
aim, Kozzy?"
Swallowing hard, Kozmotis moaned out and lifted his hips in response, cockhead
pressing against her sweet spot. They continued like that for what seemed like
eternity, with Pitch penetrating her with his fingers and Kozmotis knocking the
breath out of her with every movement he made.
She'd gone through a second orgasm and was well on her way to her third when
she felt Pitch's chest against her back. He moved her hair over her shoulder,
and after planting a kiss to the side of her throat, pulled her back against
himself. "Kozmotis, stop."
He obeyed, though with a low curse.
"Put your hands on her cute little ass and hold her open. You're going to feel
me move against you, and when you do, I want you to move too." There was
pressure against her rear. "Do you understand me?"
She didn't hear a response. The next thing she knew, there was an intense
amount of pressure against both her openings, as the boys speared her in
tandem; they felt even bigger than before, as they rubbed against the thin
membrane between her channels.
“Oh God... oh God...!” She couldn’t move. It was too much, too intense. “Stop,
you’re tearing me apart...!” She couldn’t breathe. The decadent pleasure
consuming her was more than she could handle. “I’m dying...! Please have
mercy...!”
She felt gentle hands on her breasts and thighs. “It’s alright, Miss Sandy,”
Kozmotis soothed. “We’ll take you to heaven. You have done so much for us...
Let us love you!”
Through her, they pleasured each other. She could feel the massive heads
stroking fiercely against her abused walls, making the boys--her beautiful,
beautiful boys--groan sweet curses into her skin.
Pitch spoke to her of filth, asking if she'd ever fantasized about this as he
pounded her from behind without an ounce of mercy. He was ruining her with such
glee!
While he made her blush horribly, the sight of Kozmotis was enough to block out
his brother's words. He massaged her breasts with both hands, lovely eyes on
hers as he tensely jerked up into her body. "D-don't listen to him," he
murmured, after planting a kiss to her swollen nipples, "Just tell me how to
make you feel good. I want to feel you orgasm, Miss Sandy! Please--"
He inhaled sharply. His face drew in tight, so she finally understood how hard
he was trying to hold back.
"J-just a little more, my darling," she whispered back. "Strike that spot
inside me..." She was close, so close, dirty words and adoration both pushing
her toward to the peak - aside the vigorously moving pricks inside her of
course. They just felt so good!
Pitch seized her upper arms and jerked her back, forcing her to sit straight up
atop her boys. The change in position drew them even deeper, every inch of the
handsome twins buried inside her wretched body--and Pitch made her sit down on
them, again and again and again.
Soft fingers strummed her nipple; rough ones pinched the other.
"Aim toward my hand," was the only thing she heard before their movements
doubled in speed, the boys striking her sweet spot from both sides. Kozmotis
hit her first, and from behind, Pitch shoved so hard against her inner walls
that he was able to hit it too.
She couldn't keep down the squeals - she just hoped nobody will hear... Her
orgasm was fast approaching and her mind was shutting down; she was unable to
voice any protests - not that she wanted to. One strike, two- and she was
yelling with pleasure as the most intense release she ever had washed over her.
Her muscles nearly cramped and her insides gripped both boys hard.
They stabbed her deeply, and with matching cries of pleasure, they went still
at the same moment. Kozmotis and Pitch held each other's hands, and as their
hips twitched violently, they filled both her channels with hot, thick seed.
Pitch slumped against her back; Kozmotis buried his face in her breasts and
squeezed her tight, murmuring sweetly all the while.
Sandy let her head roll back, to rest on Pitch's shoulder while she wrapped her
arms around Kozmotis. They were her angels, the both of them... Only angels
could deal out such wondrous things.
"You have taken me to Heaven indeed..." she breathed. "I love you, my
darlings."
Pitch held her hips hard enough to bruise as he slipped out of her, leaving
behind his essence and a pleasantly sore backside.
Kozmotis pulled her down before his brother could do anything, and like a
child, he cuddled into her arms; like a man, he held her close, protecting her
from the post-coital chill. "I love you.."
Pitch climbed from the bed, snorting loudly. "Maybe you'll read to us again."
"Maybe," she murmured. She was way too sated and tired to give much thought
either to threats or to confessions.
***** Exercise *****
He was scared, but he was too determined to care.
Surrounded on all sides by the prettiest people in the city, Sandy stood near
the weight room with his arms crossed self-consciously over his chest and
sucked in his stomach so maybe it wouldn't be too obvious.
Every now and again, someone looked his way and snickered.
He pushed back the feelings of inadequacy and tried to concentrate on what he'd
been told over the phone: "You're here to better yourself, not to impress
anyone else."
Still, it was hard to be confident when the two other personal trainers took
one look at him and declined to take him, one even commenting she had "too
heavy" a load as it was.
Let Black take him, they'd both suggested with frightening smiles.
So when the receptionist reappeared with a dark, angry-looking man behind him,
Sandy's fear only intensified. "Mr. McSnoozie?" The young man mispronounced his
name (again) with a professional smile, thin arm sweeping out to gesture to
that tall, thin Adonis, "This is Pitch Black. He wanted to meet you."
Sandy felt sick when he gave Black a meek smile, extending his pudgy hand. "H-
hi."
The trainer nodded. "Hello." At least he didn't squeeze Sandy's hand too
forcefully. He had a nice, sure grip. "I suggest you get changed then meet me
at the room." He had a nice voice. It almost made the curt command ring softer.
Sandy was stunned. "Y-you're going to take me?"
The receptionist--Jack, it said on the nametag--nodded with a twinkle in his
eye. "He's our senior personal trainer. I promised you the best, didn't I?"
He didn't entirely believe that spiel, but went with it anyway.
-------
In ten minutes, Sandy stood in all his sweaty glory in a private weight room: a
sleeveless yellow shirt covered his gut, basketball shorts hanging a bit too
long, brand new sneakers a bit too tight, and a navy blue sweatband holding his
hair back. "P-pitch, huh? That's a neat name. You can call me Sandy."
He planted his hands on his hips. "I didn't think anyone here was gonna take
me. I'm sure glad you did!"
"They assigned me to you, because I'm the toughest, meanest, cruelest trainer.
I'm known from giving nightmares to grown man... It was a joke." Pitch folded
his arms. "And it's supposed to be on you. I say, you should prove them all
wrong, but I'm not going to lie, it will not be a joyride. But you're here, and
that's a start."
His heart sank.
"A joke..?"
He ducked his head so he wouldn't look so pathetic while the realization hit
him. "That's why the others didn't take me. Th-they don't think I can do it."
"This gym doesn't see many overweight people. They get discouraged or hurt, and
they leave." Pitch began to adjust a machine, taking off weights from it.
"The question is, do you think you can do it? Nothing else matters. If you
stick to your decision, you'll succeed." He glanced at Sandy. "Everybody starts
from zero. It's just... some people forget they were there as well. Nobody is a
born athlete."
No, he didn't think he could do it. After all of his preparing to even get to
this point, he felt like he'd been punched right in the throat. It was a
horrible way to feel. But...
He blinked hard so he could watch Pitch get things arranged, little mouth
shaking as he took a step forward. "I'll do my best." Sandy gave a weak smile.
"Don't go easy on me, okay? You're supposed to be the best."
"Indeed." Pitch's smirk looked unsettling, but somehow, Sandy didn't feel like
it was aimed at him. "I'll give you my number, you can call me any time. We'll
give those jerks out there a surprise. Now take that treadmill over there, and
don't even dream of getting off until I say so."
---------------------------------------
It had been a week and Sandy hadn't shed a pound. He came home sore, drenched
in sweat, and holding instructions that commanded him to drink a protein shake
before bed.
No results and a sore ass made for a Sandy both unwilling and unable to roll
out of bed for his Tuesday morning session (arms and chest). With shaking
hands, he took hold of his phone and began to send a text:
"Can't make it today, lol. C u Thursday."
Approximately ten seconds after he hit 'Send', his phone began to ring. It was
Pitch. Sandy was rather hesitant to pick up, and once he did, he was
immediately reminded who he was dealing with.
"Listen up, you little shit," the trainer started casually. "You haul your
sorry ass up, and I'll be seeing you in half an hour at most, and you'll do
your exercises like a good boy and be thankful for it. I'm not going to make a
laughing stock out of myself with you quitting on me, no sir. You will come to
the gym and sweat your spleen out. It's been a fucking week and you're already
giving up? Well, you can, but I'll be texting you all the jokes Jack will crack
at your expense, and trust me, he's very creative with those. Your muscles ache
because you're actually putting them to good use. So please, if you'd be so
kind as to continue with this good tradition and not being a pussy - get up,
get dressed and you better come running. Did I make myself clear?"
His mouth dangled open, brown eyes wide as could be, and laid in stunned
silence while his brain recovered from the craziest tongue-lashing of its
existence.
"Uh..." He sat up without realizing it, switching ears as he hunted around for
his shoes. "...okay?"
That day, Pitch worked him until Sandy was begging him to stop. His legs barely
able to hold his body, arms like rubber at his sides, he wheezed for mercy
while Pitch stood over him like a hawk.
"Are you going to try to skip again?" he asked with disarming softness.
Sandy shook his head.
He'd learned his lesson.
--------------------------------
Three more weeks passed after that. Sandy came, sweated like a sinner in church
and dragged himself home. Pitch was a good trainer indeed - he kept a close
watch on everything, and his instructions very probably saved Sandy from
pulling or twisting something and dropping heavy objects on himself.
A diet was involved as well, and Pitch seemed to have a sixth sense; he always
sensed when Sandy got weak and his quiet, soft-spoken reprimands were worse
than shouting and threats of bodily harm. Pitch explained why plenty of water
and a lot of greens were helping and pointed out dietary supplements Sandy
could benefit from.
There was progress, but it was incredibly slow and unsatisfying. While his arms
looked a little bigger, he still woke each day to find his gut hadn't receded
at all and his thighs were just as jiggly as ever. He was more afraid of Pitch
than he was of his own personal disappointment, yet it lingered like a miasma
at the back of his mind, proof that he was truly a failure even though he was
trying his best.
So Sandy decided to cheat.
It wasn't the sort of cheating one would expect on a diet and exercise regime,
though. Sandy considered it "buffing". He did a little internet research and
managed to find a successful diet pill, though he pointedly ignored the side
effects and negative reviews.
The pill was a godsend, staving off hunger and giving him quite the energy
boost. Sometimes he didn't need to eat for a full day, and though he felt a
little dizzy after his workouts with Pitch, he was starting to see the results
he wanted.
Within a week of more pills and a lot less food, he dropped almost fifteen
pounds. Pitch noticed and congratulated him, but Sandy couldn't help wondering
if maybe he knew. But how could he?
At the end of week two, he lost a lot more weight around his thighs, though he
found he needed a few energy drinks to keep awake through the day. For his
Friday session, he was more sluggish than usual. He dragged himself into the
weight room, barely even noticing Pitch, and slipped down to start on his arms.
The movement left his head reeling. "Ugh.. M'tired today," he slurred.
"You seemed a little tired all week," Pitch pointed out. "Worked late or
something? Plenty of sleep is essential, not just a myth. Over-exercising
doesn't help either..." The trainer came closer and frowned a little. "Are you
alright? You're a little pale and your eyes look sunken-"
Sandy nodded. He thought he said he was fine, but it was hard to tell. His ears
were ringing like he'd just come in from a concert, and though he was wide
awake, his body seemed weightless, floating on the dark fog approaching out of
the corners of his eyes.
He grinned at Pitch even though he suddenly didn't feel very well.
"Uh-huh..." Gripping the bars, Sandy tried to pump weights. It didn't work, but
he kept trying anyway. Pitch would be mad otherwise.
The next thing he knew was that he sat propped against the wall, a wet cloth
dabbing his face and a gruff guy checking his pulse.
"I'd like you to answer a few simple questions if you can." Sandy nodded.
"How much have you been drinking as of late?"
"Err- enough, I suppose? Around two liters every day, three when working out-"
"Do you work out aside the gym?"
"Um, n-not really-"
"How much have you eaten lately?"
Sandy pulled his head between his shoulders. "Not much...?"
"Basically, he's starved," the gruff doctor glanced up at Pitch who was
kneeling beside them. "I suppose he took some of those wonderful pills floating
around on the Internet, but I'm not authorized neither to slap sense into him,
nor to deal with the aftereffects."
"Thanks, Aster."
As soon as the doctor was out, Pitch slowly, calmly tangled his fist into
Sandy's shirt and looked him dead in the eye.
"Are you mental?"
Sandy shivered, skin prickling where the cold water evaporated on his skin. "Y-
you don't know what it's like," he rasped out, "Don't start."
"The fuck I don't know!" Pitch snapped, the first time they knew each other. "I
knew you were taking something but I hoped you'd be reasonable about it! Now
you've got your work cut out for you if you want all that shit out of your
system. Haven't you looked into the mirror lately? Quick weight loss makes your
skin sag. I thought you were coming here to look better." He huffed. "Right now
I'm not so sure about that. This was a stupid move!"
Normally nonconfrontational and laid-back, Sandy would've never before dreamed
of entering a shouting match with a man capable of snapping him in half. But he
was tired and sick of taking abuse, and the more he held back, the more raw and
miserable he felt. "Fu-fuck you!"
He shoved Pitch's shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut tight, his voice ragged
even though he was trying so hard to keep it together. "I've been dealing with
your bullshit for nearly two months, an' for what? A pound a week?!" Furiously
scrubbing at his eyes, he willed his nausea away. "I'm so tired of looking this
way! I'm tired of being a fat, ugly, pathetic joke who can't even touch his
toes! I'm so sick of being by myself all the time! S-so, fuck you! You could
never understand! You have -everything-!"
"You are very, very lucky that I'm a trainer and I'm not allowed to slap you,
because God help me, I would. You know nothing, you little brat, you have no
idea where I come from. I happen to know exactly how you feel, and that was the
sole reason why I decided to work with you!" Pitch's eyes blazed. "I told you
this wasn't going to be a joyride. Did you seriously expect to become slim and
muscled overnight?"
"Bullshit! You don't know anything!" Sandy sputtered, hating himself for
retreating already. He was scared of Pitch and didn't like this verbal sparring
at all. Burying his face in his hands, he tried to make himself as small as
possible. "I've been doing everything you told me to, Pitch. I haven't missed a
single session! I eat salads and drink those gross shakes! I take every stupid
vitamin you suggested, but I'm still--"
God, he didn't want to, but his eyes were welling up so fast they ached. "I'm a
failure. I h-hate myself more and more every day, because I can't even get this
right."
"Whoever told you that, punch that bastard in the face." Pitch's hands squeezed
Sandy's shoulders. "You're doing great! The progress you think is slow is
perfectly normal, it doesn't put strain on your system. You look a great deal
better than you did before. Then again, I'm a trainer and no psychologist, I
can make you lose weight but I can't help to lose that attitude that is
poisoning you. And it'd be really nice if you could stop accusing me with being
a fitness queen who have never had to work for anything. When I was a kid, I
was heavier than you."
Behind his hands, he chuckled bitterly. Throughout school, he'd always heard
that he was fat because of his laziness. His mom insisted it was due to his
genetics and encouraged him to pursue other ways of self-improvement. Gym
teachers and nutritionists all had their own theories as to "why" he was
overweight, but he'd never heard that it was due to his attitude.
Then again, nobody had ever told him to haul his sorry ass into the gym before.
"What do you mean--" He sniffed hard as he rubbed his eyes. "--you were bigger
than me? You look so good, and you're so strong.. It seems effortless."
"I suppose it does, but you haven't seen me in a candy shop." Pitch's tone was
slightly sarcastic. "I used to hate myself, too, then it got to the point where
it started threatening my health something serious, and my dad offered me a
reward. So I started doing exercise and diet. It took a while. A great while.
But I defeated myself. Training sort of grew on me too, so I kept doing it.
Even won a few amateur sports awards; I started too late to ever go
professional. Fitness is another story of course."
He expected to feel guilt, but instead, he was swept up in awe. So Pitch really
did understand...?
It certainly explained a lot, from the near-threats to the firm hand, even to
the suggestions of activities that would keep him from thinking about food.
"But you did it," he murmured, hugging his knees close to his chest. "How long
did it take?"
Pitch gave a prim smile. "Years."
Sandy sniffed. "You think I can do it?"
"You are doing it. You just have to accept that you've got a pace set.
Reluctantly, but I have to admit that those pills gave you quite a push - now
you just have to keep those pounds from coming back on. And drink this tea
that'll purge the unwanted stuff from your system."
He nodded, and with a humbling sigh, he looked up at Pitch. "Are you still
willing to work with me?"
"If you promise that before taking anything not on my list you'll give me a
warning, then yes. I like working with you, you do as I say."
With a soft chuckle, he leaned forward to pull Pitch into a tight, one-armed
hug. "Thanks, man. You're really the best." He leaned back, feeling much more
like a human instead of a failure. "I'm gonna make you proud."
Pitch frowned first, then a little awkwardly, but he hugged back. "I'm sure you
will."
Sandy needed a little help to stand, but with Pitch to support him, he made it
to the locker room so he could change. At his trainer's insistence, he accepted
a ride home.
On the way out, he felt the need to add: "Th-that was just a bro-hug, y'know.
No weird feelings."
"That's quite okay." Pitch nodded. "I'd have hated to bust your bubble."
----------------------------------
When Pitch arrived that day, Sandy was already waiting for him. And for the
first time since he was a boy, Sandy took his shirt off without a second
thought. "Pitch," he started between stretches, "What do you do when you're not
here?"
"I'm here most of the time..." The trainer was fiddling with a machine that
needed absolutely no adjusting.
"My father works with horses, I help him out sometimes. I like to read. And I
cook my own meals. What about you?"
"I do a little web developing," he answered, conveniently leaving out the fact
that he owned and operated Dreamscapes, a software company he'd started from
the ground up. "I like to go to movies sometimes."
Without needing to be told, he climbed down to start his push-ups. "I was
thinking maybe you'd like to join me one of these days."
"If there's something worth to see, then, I suppose, why not? I think they were
announcing a movie starring Nigel Light, I think Katherine Orphan should be in
it, too- Is that one out yet? I like Light, he's doing most stunts himself."
A little giddy and now a bit pumped up, Sandy grinned to himself. "I've been
wanting to see it too."
Four, five, six--his chest was starting to feel good, burning just enough to
let him know he was doing it right. Emboldened, he added: "Drinks after?"
"Non-alcoholic," Pitch held up a finger. He was grinning. "Salad for dinner.
With a little meat perhaps, like chicken. You still have a long way to go. But
you're progressing. Maybe you can be allowed some healthy dessert as well."
He couldn't hold his laugh, straightening up to sit on his knees. "Do you have
to be a trainer -all- the time? I bet even you like chocolate!"
"The dark kind," Pitch confessed. "It's actually a little healthier than the
milk variation, but I certainly didn't know that when I was a kid. I also like
special coffee blends.”
Sandy rolled his eyes, stepping to the weight machine to start on his routine.
Slow and cautious, just like Pitch had taught him. “I recall you saying your
father works with horses? That’s cool- So you can ride as well, right?”
Pitch nodded.
"I really loved horses as a kid and wanted to ride something bad, but dad
always said I was too heavy. Finally he promised me that if I can lose enough
weight, he'll buy me a horse." He laughed, not without some pride. "It was
quite a blow on the budget, but he kept his promise."
When Sandy smiled this time, he felt it emerge straight from the heart. He felt
a little closer to Pitch, like maybe he understood him a bit better, and it
made him beam in pride. He'd done something right by sticking around.
"Maybe you'll show me?" he murmured, "Your horses, I mean. You're not so scary-
looking when you talk about them."
“Boo.” Pitch wiggled his fingers at Sandy. “When you’ve lost enough weight,
I’ll take you to the stables. There you go, some more motivation.”
Sandy pretended to recoil in fear. "What if I promise you dark chocolate
torte?" he cooed, not even paying attention as he pumped weights again. "Think
you'd let me see them any sooner?"
"Not in this lifetime."
***** Spring Wish *****
Chapter Summary
     In which Bunnymund is a prick, Pitch is a jerk, and Sandy just wants
     everyone to get along.
Chapter Notes
     This chapter turned from sugar-filled fluff to silliness in the
     course of a few hours. We wrote this to get warmed up for Facets IV,
     coming soon to an AO3 near you!
Bunnymund didn't want to give it to him, and stood over the tiny treasure with
all the intimidation a Pooka could muster. Between his grey paws was a tiny
burst of color, as a blossom had finally crept out of winter- dried grass and
stood proudly in the chilly March air.
It was the first flower of spring, something only enjoyed by the Guardians--
humans couldn't pinpoint the very first bud, as their "spring" began on
different days. For Nicholas St. North, Jack Frost, Toothiana, E. Aster
Bunnymund, and Sanderson Mansnoozie, spring arrived with the opening of tiny
petals. Each year, one of the Guardians could pick the fully-grown flower and
make a wish for the coming months.
Sandy tried using his images to explain, but Bun cut him off. "I know she said
it was alright, but I say no."
This year was Tooth's turn, but when Sandy approached her and told her what he
wanted to use the flower for, she giggled and happily ceded her wish. Jack and
North were understandably cautious, though for different reasons, they
supported his idea.
"This only happens once a year. It's -special-, and it's for Guardians only!"
He stomped his foot on the ground for emphasis. The tiny, pale blue, star-
shaped flower remained cheerful and flawless beneath him. "I deal with a lot,
mate, but I can't let you waste it on... on HIM!"
Bunny pointed at the unmistakable golden silhouette hovering above Sandy's head
of wild hair. The beaked nose really did give it away, huh...?
To Sandy's overly-confused expression, Aster dismissively waved his paw. "This
is my season, coming up on my holiday, and this flower is on my Warren. Nice
try, but it's not happening."
Sandy pointed to a peace symbol.
"Pitch? Making peace? Don't make me laugh."
A gift, topped with a bow.
"He eats goodwill for afternoon tea."
Sandy wrinkled his nose, then summoned the form of Bunnymund standing taller
than Pitch.
"I don't want to be the bigger man. With my ears upright, I'm taller than he is
anyway."
There was stillness between the tiny Sandman and the imposing Easter Bunny, two
great forces standing at a cross-armed impasse in the middle of the sleepy,
late-Winter Warren. A cool breeze picked up, which caused Sandy to bob a little
where he hovered in the air.
Sandy finally ducked his head, holding his hands up in defeat. "Sorry little
fella--" And he really did sound sorry. "I know you want to be friends with
him, but he just can't be trusted."
Looking at the ground, Sandy gave a resigned shrug.
"Aw, Sandy! Don't be like that!" Bunny chased after him, as the Sandman was
dejectedly floating toward the tunnels. He laid one paw on his shoulder to spin
him 'round. "We're friends, ain't we?!"
Sandy nodded, eyes bright. The Pooka stuck out his paw, seemingly determined to
make things right. "C'mon, Sandman."
He acquiesed with a sniffle, pressing his palm to the underside of Bunny's
hand. He'd shake hands, but only because Bunny was sorry.
And when Sandy used his grip to yank Aster off his balance and into a muzzle-
full of Dreamsand, Sandy was sorry too.
The Pooka hit the ground hard, landing on his face with his cottony tail
wiggling toward the sky. As images of eggs and carrots waltzed around Bunny's
head, Sandy genially patted his back. After hundreds of years working together,
that crotchety rabbit still didn't know when he was about to be taken to
Dreamland. Even Pitch knew better!
He carefully pinched the flower's stem, feeling quite triumphant. And only a
little sorry.
---------------------------------------
It was frustrating, to go through all that trouble just to have the Nightmare
King ignore it with three little words: "I'm not interested."
Sandy stood dumbfounded, clutching the little flower only as tightly as he
dared, and for once, he couldn't bypass his paralysis in order to protest with
sand images.
Like wet ink, Pitch Black's lanky form pooled in the curve of a chaise lounge,
with only a sliver of white peeking out from his deeply-plunging neckline. He
looked smug as always, which Sandy could normally handle, but as his shock wore
off, and the realization that yes, Pitch was really doing this set in,
disappointment balled up like a rock in his belly.
Sandy tried once more to explain why he was there, but as he floated up toward
Pitch, the Bogeyman waved his sand away like it was just bothersome smoke.
"Don't bother. I know why you are here with that pathetic flower--" Sandy
resisted the need to shield the bud's "ears" from the mild abuse. "You want me
to take it and make a wish, to be your -friend-?"
Jaw tight, Sandy lowered his hands to his sides.
"Just because you finally decide to include me in your little group doesn't
mean that slate is wiped clean of hundreds of years of my exclusion!" He
scoffed. "How you got that Pooka to agree to this nonsense--"
Sandy sent out a life-sized, fast-forwarded version of his recent encounter
with Bunny, dreamsand exploding angrily with each movement. He -hadn't- gotten
Bunny's permission! He'd done this all for Pitch and now...!
Because this wasn't the flower's fault, he cradled it to his chest but took big
stomping steps away from Pitch. He'd give the flower to its rightful owner.
"Sandman!"
He looked over his shoulder.
"You... took it? Just like that?"
Why was Pitch smiling? Sandy nodded slowly, suddenly nervous.
The King rose from his chair with a jackal's grin, and in the next moment, he
was kneeling, eye-level with Sandy. "So you stole it."
Frantic images popped up over his head, though again, Pitch waved them away.
"Nevermind." He seized Sandy's chin in one cold hand so he had to look into
that oddly-gleeful face. "You head-butted the rabbit in the face with Dreamsand
and left him nose-first in the dirt."
Technically that was right, so Sandy nodded again.
Pitch jerked the flower out of his hand, scooped Sandy up under one arm, and
with a spring in his step, went back to the chaise lounge. He arranged himself
with Sandy in his lap, chest pressed to his back and arms around his small,
warm body.
When he looked up and back, it was to find that horrific smile again. "I wish
upon this stupid, silly flower that you show me what you did to that damned
rabbit."
Sandy frowned questioningly.
"Of course I am serious!" He forced Sandy to look straight ahead. "Now do it--
but this time, slower."
As he manipulated the images to Pitch's specifications, and the body behind his
own shook in deep laughter, he was sure that the spring wish was not supposed
to be used this way.
Pitch ruffled Sandy's hair. "Again! Again!"
But it was a step in the right direction. Even if Sandy was still a little
sorry.
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