A/N: It occurred to me that the warnings I gave for the first part of this fill were more for the Poe story Pitch was reading then the actual fill so I'm removing them and putting of Poe's full name instead. Oops. Hopefully I haven't lost the few readers I had due to the erroneus warnings. I know this fill isn't popular but please bear with me.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own RotG OR Edgar Allen Poe's anything.

"'"You must not-' ugh '-you shall not behold this !" said I, shudderingly,'" Pitch shuddered as Jack steady teasing caused tingles throughout his body, "'to Usher, as I led him, with a gentle vi-OH-lencsssss, from the window to a seat. "These ah-a-appearances, which bewilder you, are merely electrical phen-mmmm-onmennna not UGHN-common - or it may be that they have their GHA-stly origin in the rank miasma of the tarnnn.' Jack. 'Let us close this casement ; - the air is chilling,'" -damn that imp, nipping at every word pertaining to cold- "'and dangeroussss to your frame-mmmm. Here is one AH-of your favorite romances. I w-w-will reeeeead, and you shall LISTEN,'" Jack snorted derisively punctuated by a particularly long, painful, needy, teasing suck dragging his pearly teeth along hard, crimson flesh drawing a needy keen from the dark spectre- "'and so we will pass away this terrible night together."'"

Unable to continue, the Lord of Shadows let the anthology slip from nerveless fingers as his eyes drooped closed and he focused solely on keeping what little control he had left locked deep within. Pale hair, feather soft, tickled grey-toned thighs as slender fingers rolled, squeezed, brushed, and pinched engorged sacks.

Strange how this youth, so pure, so white, so untouched would become so dark. A fallen angel. The dark spectre could no more resist the snowy purity then a child could resist a sweet. But this innocent, this pale youth was Jack Frost. If the long feared Winter could submit to him with but a single touch, then what hope did a King of Nightmares? For what goes better then cold and dark?

Pitch Black shuddered violently, then two hands suddenly tangled themselves in snowy locks and began moving the youth's head of their own will. Frost choked as he was forced to swallow more of his lover then he previously had then winced as the fingers pulled his hair dragging his head back along the pulsing flesh. The pace was harsh and sharp, colored by lust the shade of the crimson liquid rushing through their veins.

His lips were sore and swallowing a chore the fair one barely managed to accompish around his mouthful. His breathes were ragged and not nearly deep enough to satisfy his deprived lungs. But the dark did not seem to notice, and if he did then he payed no heed. For though Frost may conquer darkness, darkness has a way of weakening even the strongest resolve.

And thus it was that young Frost found himself the tool of Pitch Black, Lord of Shadows, King of Nightmares, and Master of Fear to relieve himself of his hot, pressing load. What control pure, young Frost once had was gone. His mouth locked open, his throat forcefully relaxed as he struggled to just breathe. His hands, formerly used to pleasure his lover teasingly, were now gripping strong, grey thighs with white knuckled need as his swollen, used mouth was harshly, completely, and absolutely fucked.

And when Pitch moaned, his hand slamming Frost's snowy, whimpering head forward, he arched against his chair and released. Tears filled the youth's shuttered crystal eyes as he coughed and choked down his lover's seed. When t was over, gentle grey hands tugged at lank, snowy locks and slowly Frost became free of Pitch. Bleery crystal eyes beheld the now limp, soft flesh before them still dripping milky seed and drew a shaky breath.

"Well done," the velvet voice Frost had long ago begun to desire murmured above him. Gentle hands tilted his head up so brilliant gold and dark blue met, a thumb brushing away a stray tear with surprising tenderness. "Ah, your face is always beautiful when you have ben thoroughly used." A finger traced full lips, "Your lips used and swollen," across a smooth cheek, "face flushed and tender," along a crystal eye, "eyes misty like frosted glass," and racked through snowy strand, "and hair damp and limp." The wandering hand returned to cup the youth's cheek. "Poor boy. So focused on bringing me to pleasure, that you forgot your own."

The used child twitched as his own crimson need between his now useless pale legs throbbed. Eyebrows like snow drifts pulled low in mild confusion as grey hands gently tugged the child's body up to his knees before wrapping strong arms around the slender waist pulling the shivering body to him. One hand moving to support the limp body, planting itself steadily between well-defined shoulder blades. The other arm snaked around, down the knobby back, fingers slipping down under the fabrics of Frost's pants and between two pert cheeks to brush the wrinkled hole.

Jack squeaked at the sensation them moaned, eyes rolling back in his pale head, as spectral fingers brushed, teased, and stroked his need. Everything was lust, crimson, and dark as he gasped for air, his long drowned lungs never seeming to get enough oxygen. And when he came, what remained of his sight filled with brilliant white, before he succumbed to the all-encompassing darkness.

Feeling his lover's body go limp in his arms, Pitch lowered the pale form to the fur-covered ground. Frost always appeared the very image of innocence in sleep, but he knew better then most the spark of darkness that grew and festered with the child's frozen soul. He knew Frost would always return to him, and each time he did, he fell further and further into the shadows.

He drew a single breath and whispered as a eulogy, "'And the deep and dank tarn at my feet closed sullenly and silently over the fragments of the' Heart of Frost."

A/N: Well, since I know this fill wasn't very popular (sorry!) I figured I'd go ahead and just inish it and leave it like this. Sorry if it felt a bit rushed. I just wanted to get it over with. Hope it was at least passible. Sorry again.