This is the second part of the In the Dark series. It's only this one shot, so I'm posting it as part of this fic for convenience and visibility.

Though this is mainly just a PWP for everyone who embarrassed me in the tiny chats and/or in Skype groups, it somehow turned into a rather important piece for the series, a fact that's not noticeable at first, but once you read The Dark in You (the final part of the series), things may make sense, mostly the last paragraph. It certainly gave me several ideas for that fic and connects a lot of things.

Now that that's out of the way, here, have some porn. And Princess Bride references (yes the title is a terrible pun, please forgive me!).

"Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

Jack mouths the words in time with the movie, completely enraptured with the action on the screen. Inigo is definitely his favorite character. But Wesley's really cool, too. And he always admired the way Buttercup stands up to Prince Humperdink. Hell, they're all great! This whole movie is great! He can't think of anyone who dislikes The Prin

"I don't see the appeal of this."

Except one person. Well, more like one spirit of darkness or shadow or whatever Pitch is. Jack isn't completely sure. He supposes he should care a bit more, especially considering he's letting Pitch fuck him, but then again that's pretty much the reason he doesn't care.

"This is a classic movie that everyone loves, including myself, so just shut up. I promise we'll watch a horror movie tomorrow night."

"Oh, yes, one of those 'horror' movies. How very entertaining."

Even though he's facing the laptop screen and sitting with his back against Pitch's chest, Jack can picture the exact trajectory of the eye roll which always accompanies that particular brand of flat-toned sarcasm.

Jack rolls his own eyes and ignores the comment in favor of tuning into Wesley and Inigo's sword fight. He's had plenty of practice doing that, as Pitch always has something to say about the movie he's chosen for them to watch. Despite that, he enjoys their nightly movies, particularly the position it puts them in. With Pitch leaning against the headboard and Jack propped up against him, Pitch practically surrounds him, especially when he wraps both arms around his waist and rests his chin on the top of Jack's head, as he's doing now.

Apparently, Pitch isn't done with his jabs at the movie. "You seem to have no problem with this 'Indigo' fellow wanting to kill someone in revenge, yet you're still sore over the man from the store."

"That's because I was only grazed by a bullet and was in no danger of dying. In-i-go," he says, over pronouncing to word to highlight Pitch's mistake, "watched the six fingered man run his father through with a sword right in front of him. And he knows it's going to be an even fight when he finally finds that man. Unlike with you and the gunman."

"It's not my fault, being the strongest."

"Are you sure you haven't seen this movie before? Because that sounded suspiciously like you were quoting Fezzick and we haven't reached that part yet."

Pitch harrumphs in distaste, pretending to be uninterested, but Jack definitely feels him tense up during the iocane powder scene. He's also silent, which is a good indication as any that Pitch is pretty absorbed in what he's doing.

They are able to sit quietly and enjoy the movie until Jack's laptop battery dies just as Buttercup and Wesley enter the Fire Swamp. His cord is tangled and lost somewhere in the depths of his bag and he's not motivated enough to get up to search for it at the moment. Sighing heavily, he shifts out of Pitch's arms and leans over to lay the laptop on his bedside table. The new position apparently places his ass at an attractive angle because Pitch grabs his hips and pulls them down to his own to grind against them. Jack almost slips off the bed from the awkward angle it puts him at and because his arm suddenly feels too weak to support his weight. He quickly brings the other arm down to brace himself.

"I believe you owe me for making me watch that movie," Pitch breathes hotly into his ear. Jack shivers and tries to turn so he's facing Pitch, but the grip on his hips doesn't relent. "Oh no. I want you just like this."

Pitch adjusts him so he's straddling his legs instead of sitting between them. One hand leaves his hip and presses between his shoulder blades, forcing him to bend forward. Leaning on his forearms, Jack can just barely make out Pitch's black-clad legs stretching out on either side of him. He feels his pants being pulled down before they catch against his spread thighs. Expecting his hips to be angled downward again, he's surprised when they are suddenly jerked up, leaving his knees barely on the mattress and his upper body supporting most of his weight.

Thumbs spread his cheeks and he feels a hot breath ghost over his entrance. His eyes snap wide open and he squirms around to look at Pitch. "What are you – ahh!"

He fists the sheets and muffles his whine into them at the first touch of the burning tongue. It drags against his entrance with a firm and maddening slowness. After circling once, it pushes inside and he has to bite the sheets to stifle any noises that may escape.

The tongue creates much different sensations than those of fingers or a cock. It's fluctuating and stiffening and curling and reaching and wet and amazing. He falls apart while Pitch just sits there as if it is the most casual thing in the world.

When the tongue is withdrawn, he groans in frustration; he swears he could have come from just that. He's quickly assuaged as it is replaced by fingers, which slide in easily, slicked by the saliva left behind.

He's already relaxed as the two fingers begin to stretch him, so the addition of a third brings only minimal pain and much more pleasure. The other hand leaves its steadying grip on his hip to reach around and stroke him, moving in time with the thrusts of the fingers. He smothers a moan into the sheets still stuffed in his mouth.

But then the fingers hit that spot and he releases the sheets with a gasp. His hips jerk, putting him off balance and there's nothing helping to hold him up. Before he can fall, both hands grab his hips. He expects them to return to their previous ministrations, but instead they move his lower body down and slide up to his sides, tilting him into an upright position. He quickly comprehends and braces his own hands on the mattress in front of him. One of the hands releases him and the tip of Pitch's cock presses against his entrance, guided by the hand. He slowly sinks down, biting his lip at the feeling. He's sweating and panting by the time his ass meets Pitch's hips and he doesn't think he'll be able to continue moving.

His pause is just that bit too long and Pitch leans forward to hiss in his ear, "Move, Jack."

A high keen rises from the back of his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forces his shaking legs to push himself up. He barely gets halfway before he has to let himself drop. It's all too much. The tongue, the fingers, the voice – everything is just too much and he just can't handle it.

The hands on his hips urge him to move up and he struggles to comply. With their help, he manages to lift himself higher than before, but isn't able to keep the steady pace going back down. The hands let him fall, their guiding pressure only returning to coax him up again. He bites his lip as he follows their direction, focusing on maintaining control this time.

"Yes, very good, Jack, just like that," Pitch whispers in his ear. Jack didn't realize he was that close and his control almost slips from the shiver it sends through him.

One hand removes itself from his hip to encircle his cock and he throws his head back with a moan. It's difficult to keep his pace steady with a distraction like that, especially when Pitch leans in to bite his now exposed neck. The first brush of sharp teeth causes his hips to stutter, which is not appreciated, if the sudden bearing down of the teeth indicates anything. The hand still on his hip jerks him into rhythm again, forcing him to increase the pace for added measure.

Pitch sits back, his grip on Jack's neck dragging him back as well. The new position puts Jack at an awkward angle to continue moving, but a perfect one to hit that spot with every downward slide. When Pitch starts thrusting up to meet him, striking the spot every time, he can hardly keep moving.

The hand on his cock tightens and he stops trying to move, collapsing bonelessly against Pitch with his hands scrabbling uselessly at the sheets near his legs. The other arm clamps around his waist, holding him down as the thrusts become rough and uneven. He grits his teeth against the moans that threaten to escape. Pitch's jaw clenches, digging his teeth deeper into Jack's skin. The pain only brings the pleasure into sharper focus and Jack cries out as he comes, throwing his head back against Pitch's shoulder. Pitch groans into his neck as he comes right after him.

Catching his breath, Jack doesn't move until Pitch lifts him off his cock and turns him around so he's half sitting in Pitch's lap, resting against his chest. A hand runs through his hair and he sighs, content.

He's drifting off when a bit of come trickles from his ass, causing him to shift in discomfort. It feels strange, but he knows that it will soon dissolve into shadow, as it does every time. Pitch, noticing his movement, adjusts so they are lying on their sides, Jack's back against his chest. With Pitch's arms twined around his waist and warmth surrounding him, Jack feels satisfied and safe. He allows those feelings to wash over him and sleep claims him in that perfect state.