emeraldembers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
emeraldembers) wrote2015-11-24 09:33 pm
emeraldembers) wrote2015-11-24 09:33 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: A Waltz After Midnight (Rise of the Guardians, Pitch/Sandy, NC17)
Title: A Waltz After Midnight
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Pairing: Pitch/Sandy
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 2225
Summary: Vampire Pitch pays her girlfriend a late night visit.
Author's Notes: Surprise fic for marypsue for generally being lovely, with special thanks to lithefider for her betaing services <3!
* * *
Pitch doesn't know why she's allowed to have Sandy. After centuries of killing, feeding indiscriminately and thinking of humans as cattle, she's allowed the company of this sweet, gentle creature.
Sandy isn't entirely without grit. She knows what Pitch is, why Pitch's bites heal without infection, and there are scars from them on her neck and thighs, hard ridges of skin that wouldn't be there if Sandy hadn't let a monster into her bed.
Pitch opens the bedroom window and climbs inside, draws the curtains for privacy and crosses the room without making a sound. Her footsteps are weightless, and she has no need to draw breath.
She inhales anyway, catches the mint on Sandy's breath and the lingering amber of her perfume, allows herself a moment of silent vigil.
Sandy sleeps like it's effortless, her breathing deep and even, face relaxed, one arm hanging loose over the edge of the bed. She doesn't fear the monsters that could hide beneath it anymore than she fears Pitch; it takes a certain bravery to sleep so deeply.
Pitch takes Sandy's free hand, tickles the palm lightly before stroking up her arm to her bare shoulder. There isn't a line on Sandy's body that doesn't curve, from the round tips of her toes to the waves and curls of her hair, the muscles and bones in between all wrapped in soft, swaddling flesh. Pitch feels as sharp as a razor in comparison.
"Wake up," Pitch urges, tightening her grip on Sandy's shoulder.
Sandy grumbles, bats ineffectively at Pitch's hand, and turns her head into her pillow.
"Sandy, wake up," Pitch repeats, smiling nonetheless, and gets a yawn in response this time followed by Sandy sitting up.
"You're late," Sandy says, but her frown disappears quickly enough.
"I had a late dinner," Pitch says, straightening up to peel off her coat and dress. "I may have to dine out of town, soon. There are whispers of vigilantes."
"I wonder why," Sandy replies, teasing as she grabs Pitch's hands and pulls her onto the bed. Pitch hasn't been able to take off her boots or underwear yet, but the hunger in Sandy's eyes tells her that won't be an issue. "Does it taste better, eating the guilty?"
Pitch shrugs. "You taste better when you think I've behaved."
Sandy wriggles free of the duvet so she can kneel on it, and Pitch feels a pleasant twist in her stomach on seeing Sandy's nightwear. It's a white cotton dress, worn thin by time and use, and there's a tear in it just over Sandy's left nipple.
Pitch spreads her legs so Sandy can kneel between them, and slips both hands into Sandy's hair, drawing her into a fierce kiss. They've known each other a little over five months, have been intimate for less than two, and Pitch fears the day this will all end. A day Sandy hates her for killing, for being immortal, for the fact they'll never see daylight together. Pitch wants this to last - she doesn't want another dead lover on what's left of her conscience.
Sandy tugs on Pitch's hair, looks at her with a concerned frown before starting another kiss, slow and sweet and deep. Sandy isn't psychic, but always seems to know when to interrupt Pitch's chain of thought, and Pitch both loves and hates how easily Sandy can read her. She can't help but melt into the press of plump lips against her own, a hot tongue massaging hers with familiar confidence, and moans when Sandy takes hold of her wrists and pulls down, guiding Pitch's hands to her breasts.
The weight of Sandy's body is ever tempting, full and heavy in Pitch's hands, and Pitch feels for the tear in Sandy's dress before tugging it down, sliding her thumb and forefinger into the gap so she can pinch Sandy's nipple between them, rolling it gently back and forth.
Sandy breathes out hot against Pitch's skin, kissing her again as she slips her hands under Pitch's bra; she doesn't unfasten it, Pitch feeling it snap back into place as Sandy's hands trace a warm path down her spine to her ass. They're both learning each other's weaknesses, Pitch tensing with excitement as Sandy's fingers grope and squeeze her backside through lace panties, and Sandy letting out pleased little mewls at the attention Pitch gives to any skin she can expose through the tear in Sandy's dress.
The kisses have to stop soon enough, Pitch wanting to put her mouth to other good uses, and she bites gently at Sandy's chin, neck, shoulder, resisting the urge to pierce or tear. She inches back on the bed, bending as she lifts Sandy's breasts so she can take turns sucking first on the exposed nipple, then on the one barely hidden beneath Sandy's threadbare dress.
Sandy's breaths come hard and fast, her heart pounding hard enough for Pitch to hear it, and Pitch grabs the straps on Sandy's dress before tugging them down sharply, stripping her to the waist.
"Don't, don't," Sandy says when Pitch renews her attentions, and Pitch obeys her, pulls back and looks up at Sandy's flushed, beautiful face.
Pitch wants to tear her apart and eat her, and she gets half her wish when Sandy lies down with her legs up and splayed.
"Please," Sandy pleads, and Pitch lifts Sandy's dress to bunch around her waist before gladly burying her head between Sandy's plump thighs.
She can see why Sandy didn't want to draw out the moment any longer - Sandy's thighs are glistening, the dark curls between them wet, and her clit is swollen to the point of looking painful. Pitch knows she could probably finish Sandy off with one good, hard suck, but it wouldn't do much to alleviate the sore swelling.
Pitch licks long, slow stripes across Sandy's clit with before turning her attention to Sandy's labia, licking the excess wetness from them until she can suck on them without her lips slipping out of place.
She waits for Sandy's thighs to relax before she pulls back enough to look up for permission; Sandy nods eagerly, and Pitch pumps two fingers into Sandy's cunt while she sucks and flicks her tongue against Sandy's clit. It doesn't take long for Sandy to come, and she shakes apart with it as she does, panting and trembling. Pitch continues to lick and suck as she rides it out until Sandy's hips still and her cunt stops clenching down on Pitch's fingers.
Pitch wipes her mouth before straddling Sandy and thoroughly enjoying the view of her, spread out and debauched. She runs a hand idly over Sandy's soft belly. "You look good enough to eat," she teases, and laughs when Sandy smacks her hard on the ass.
"So do you," Sandy says, and wriggles down the bed until her head is between Pitch's thighs.
It always makes Pitch nervous when Sandy does this because she's human and fragile - Pitch could snap her neck like a twig or smother her, and Sandy's absolute trust that she won't is a frightening honour. If Sandy senses it though, she never says anything, never judges Pitch for it; her hands stroke over Pitch's boots, up Pitch's thighs, and they're warm and comforting everywhere they meet bare skin.
"Take your bra off?" Sandy asks, ever her own unique mix of confident and uncertain. Pitch grins down at her, and bends forward to give Sandy a better view as she frees her breasts from black lace. The first time they slept together Pitch had thought about apologising for her cliché tastes - she had even worn stockings and suspenders for the occasion - but one look at the hunger in Sandy's eyes had silenced her inner critic.
That same hunger is present now, and Pitch lets herself be guided into sitting on Sandy's face, bracing her hands on her own thighs for balance. Sandy's tongue traces over her panties, firm and damp, and Pitch bares her fangs as her more monstrous instincts confuse one desperate need for another.
Sandy doesn't mind Pitch's fangs - quite the opposite, in fact - but Pitch feels self-conscious about them around Sandy because of how much she would lose if that ever changed. Pitch doesn't dream, and is thankful that she can't, but she imagines that if she did her dreams would be vicious. Her daydreams can be intrusive enough, visions of Sandy on blood-soaked sheets, and Pitch doesn't want to know what her subconscious would do with the freedom of sleep.
Sandy's fingers tug her panties aside, and the wet slide of Sandy's tongue into her exposed cunt is a welcome distraction from that chain of thought. Pitch arches and hisses, shutting her eyes.
Pitch has lived a very, very long time, and Sandy is the first human who hasn't bored her.
Sandy licks her until she's shaking, the hand that isn't keeping Pitch's panties aside squeezing and kneading Pitch's ass, and Pitch lets out a quick grunt of frustration when Sandy's tongue pulls out from her. For a moment Sandy is quiet and still, and Pitch wonders what she's thinking, before Sandy answers that thought with a question of her own. "Can I rim you?"
Pitch nods fiercely, a small moan escaping her at the thought alone, and they work together to remove Pitch's panties entirely. With Pitch stripped to just boots, Sandy can use the fingers and thumb of one hand on Pitch's cunt and clit while the other holds Pitch open, allowing Sandy to attend to her other hole with light, gentle kisses.
It should feel dirty - none of Pitch's past lovers have treated the act as if it was anything else - but with Sandy it's tender and loving, and so excruciatingly intimate Pitch covers her face with both hands, trying to ease the feeling of exposure.
Sandy's kisses start to probe, her tongue pushing in deeper and deeper each time, until Pitch comes so suddenly it takes them both by surprise. Pitch sobs with the force of it, Sandy increasing the pressure of her thumb on Pitch's clit and pushing a third finger into Pitch's cunt to help draw it out.
Pitch's thighs give, and she's careful to fall forward on the bed, freeing one hand to grab the headboard as she trembles all over, still coming, coming and coming until she aches with it. Sandy's hands pull away and Pitch hears her shift on the bed, climbing out from under her, and the cold of Sandy's absence is quickly replaced by her chest against Pitch's back, her arms wrapping around Pitch's waist.
"It's okay, it's okay, I've got you," Sandy soothes, kissing Pitch's neck and shoulder before dropping one hand down between Pitch's legs and cupping her, the light pressure helping to put Pitch at ease. "You're so beautiful."
"I'm not," Pitch says without even thinking, and it hurts that Sandy can make her like this, can turn her inside out.
"Look at me," Sandy insists, and Pitch turns her head just enough to take in the blonde curls, flushed cheeks, wide brown eyes of this gorgeous, incredible human she gets to call her own. Pitch doesn't know if Sandy means to repeat, "You're beautiful" or say "I love you" because she turns in Sandy's arms to kiss her before any other words come out. Pitch can't taste herself on Sandy's lips because she doesn't have a taste, her body sterilised by vampirism, but her tongue still remembers the salt-slick of Sandy's cunt, and the heat of their kiss lets the heat between her legs finally subside.
"I've got you," Sandy repeats quietly once they both tire of kissing, and Pitch closes her eyes and holds Sandy close to take in more of her warmth while she can.
Pitch can't stay. No matter how much she wants to, the sun will always chase her from Sandy's arms. "I wish you could keep me," Pitch says.
Sandy knows it's a vain wish, strokes a hand through Pitch's hair before saying, "Don't be late tomorrow."
Pitch nods in reply. It's a promise she can keep - she fed tonight, so she won't need to hunt again for days, maybe a full fortnight if she's lucky. "I hope I can hold a conversation by then," Pitch jokes, loosening her hold on Sandy to help straighten her nightdress and only grumbling a little at having to cover up Sandy's chest, before Pitch finally climbs off the bed to gather up her own clothes.
"You really are beautiful," Sandy says after Pitch slips her bra back on, and Pitch freezes for a moment at the honesty in Sandy's voice.
Sandy doesn't like lying or exaggerating, even if she does love to tell stories, and that kind of honesty is searing. "Thank you," Pitch says, hurriedly throwing on the rest of her clothes before opening Sandy's bedroom curtains again.
The wash of moonlight over her skin is like a dive into cold water, and Pitch walks back over to Sandy, kisses her hard as an apology for her own ignorance. Sandy never fishes for compliments, but she always deserves them.
"You are exquisite," Pitch says, promising herself she'll have more words for Sandy tomorrow, and Sandy's smile as she leaves is sunshine bright.
The flight home has never felt shorter.
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Pairing: Pitch/Sandy
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 2225
Summary: Vampire Pitch pays her girlfriend a late night visit.
Author's Notes: Surprise fic for marypsue for generally being lovely, with special thanks to lithefider for her betaing services <3!
* * *
Pitch doesn't know why she's allowed to have Sandy. After centuries of killing, feeding indiscriminately and thinking of humans as cattle, she's allowed the company of this sweet, gentle creature.
Sandy isn't entirely without grit. She knows what Pitch is, why Pitch's bites heal without infection, and there are scars from them on her neck and thighs, hard ridges of skin that wouldn't be there if Sandy hadn't let a monster into her bed.
Pitch opens the bedroom window and climbs inside, draws the curtains for privacy and crosses the room without making a sound. Her footsteps are weightless, and she has no need to draw breath.
She inhales anyway, catches the mint on Sandy's breath and the lingering amber of her perfume, allows herself a moment of silent vigil.
Sandy sleeps like it's effortless, her breathing deep and even, face relaxed, one arm hanging loose over the edge of the bed. She doesn't fear the monsters that could hide beneath it anymore than she fears Pitch; it takes a certain bravery to sleep so deeply.
Pitch takes Sandy's free hand, tickles the palm lightly before stroking up her arm to her bare shoulder. There isn't a line on Sandy's body that doesn't curve, from the round tips of her toes to the waves and curls of her hair, the muscles and bones in between all wrapped in soft, swaddling flesh. Pitch feels as sharp as a razor in comparison.
"Wake up," Pitch urges, tightening her grip on Sandy's shoulder.
Sandy grumbles, bats ineffectively at Pitch's hand, and turns her head into her pillow.
"Sandy, wake up," Pitch repeats, smiling nonetheless, and gets a yawn in response this time followed by Sandy sitting up.
"You're late," Sandy says, but her frown disappears quickly enough.
"I had a late dinner," Pitch says, straightening up to peel off her coat and dress. "I may have to dine out of town, soon. There are whispers of vigilantes."
"I wonder why," Sandy replies, teasing as she grabs Pitch's hands and pulls her onto the bed. Pitch hasn't been able to take off her boots or underwear yet, but the hunger in Sandy's eyes tells her that won't be an issue. "Does it taste better, eating the guilty?"
Pitch shrugs. "You taste better when you think I've behaved."
Sandy wriggles free of the duvet so she can kneel on it, and Pitch feels a pleasant twist in her stomach on seeing Sandy's nightwear. It's a white cotton dress, worn thin by time and use, and there's a tear in it just over Sandy's left nipple.
Pitch spreads her legs so Sandy can kneel between them, and slips both hands into Sandy's hair, drawing her into a fierce kiss. They've known each other a little over five months, have been intimate for less than two, and Pitch fears the day this will all end. A day Sandy hates her for killing, for being immortal, for the fact they'll never see daylight together. Pitch wants this to last - she doesn't want another dead lover on what's left of her conscience.
Sandy tugs on Pitch's hair, looks at her with a concerned frown before starting another kiss, slow and sweet and deep. Sandy isn't psychic, but always seems to know when to interrupt Pitch's chain of thought, and Pitch both loves and hates how easily Sandy can read her. She can't help but melt into the press of plump lips against her own, a hot tongue massaging hers with familiar confidence, and moans when Sandy takes hold of her wrists and pulls down, guiding Pitch's hands to her breasts.
The weight of Sandy's body is ever tempting, full and heavy in Pitch's hands, and Pitch feels for the tear in Sandy's dress before tugging it down, sliding her thumb and forefinger into the gap so she can pinch Sandy's nipple between them, rolling it gently back and forth.
Sandy breathes out hot against Pitch's skin, kissing her again as she slips her hands under Pitch's bra; she doesn't unfasten it, Pitch feeling it snap back into place as Sandy's hands trace a warm path down her spine to her ass. They're both learning each other's weaknesses, Pitch tensing with excitement as Sandy's fingers grope and squeeze her backside through lace panties, and Sandy letting out pleased little mewls at the attention Pitch gives to any skin she can expose through the tear in Sandy's dress.
The kisses have to stop soon enough, Pitch wanting to put her mouth to other good uses, and she bites gently at Sandy's chin, neck, shoulder, resisting the urge to pierce or tear. She inches back on the bed, bending as she lifts Sandy's breasts so she can take turns sucking first on the exposed nipple, then on the one barely hidden beneath Sandy's threadbare dress.
Sandy's breaths come hard and fast, her heart pounding hard enough for Pitch to hear it, and Pitch grabs the straps on Sandy's dress before tugging them down sharply, stripping her to the waist.
"Don't, don't," Sandy says when Pitch renews her attentions, and Pitch obeys her, pulls back and looks up at Sandy's flushed, beautiful face.
Pitch wants to tear her apart and eat her, and she gets half her wish when Sandy lies down with her legs up and splayed.
"Please," Sandy pleads, and Pitch lifts Sandy's dress to bunch around her waist before gladly burying her head between Sandy's plump thighs.
She can see why Sandy didn't want to draw out the moment any longer - Sandy's thighs are glistening, the dark curls between them wet, and her clit is swollen to the point of looking painful. Pitch knows she could probably finish Sandy off with one good, hard suck, but it wouldn't do much to alleviate the sore swelling.
Pitch licks long, slow stripes across Sandy's clit with before turning her attention to Sandy's labia, licking the excess wetness from them until she can suck on them without her lips slipping out of place.
She waits for Sandy's thighs to relax before she pulls back enough to look up for permission; Sandy nods eagerly, and Pitch pumps two fingers into Sandy's cunt while she sucks and flicks her tongue against Sandy's clit. It doesn't take long for Sandy to come, and she shakes apart with it as she does, panting and trembling. Pitch continues to lick and suck as she rides it out until Sandy's hips still and her cunt stops clenching down on Pitch's fingers.
Pitch wipes her mouth before straddling Sandy and thoroughly enjoying the view of her, spread out and debauched. She runs a hand idly over Sandy's soft belly. "You look good enough to eat," she teases, and laughs when Sandy smacks her hard on the ass.
"So do you," Sandy says, and wriggles down the bed until her head is between Pitch's thighs.
It always makes Pitch nervous when Sandy does this because she's human and fragile - Pitch could snap her neck like a twig or smother her, and Sandy's absolute trust that she won't is a frightening honour. If Sandy senses it though, she never says anything, never judges Pitch for it; her hands stroke over Pitch's boots, up Pitch's thighs, and they're warm and comforting everywhere they meet bare skin.
"Take your bra off?" Sandy asks, ever her own unique mix of confident and uncertain. Pitch grins down at her, and bends forward to give Sandy a better view as she frees her breasts from black lace. The first time they slept together Pitch had thought about apologising for her cliché tastes - she had even worn stockings and suspenders for the occasion - but one look at the hunger in Sandy's eyes had silenced her inner critic.
That same hunger is present now, and Pitch lets herself be guided into sitting on Sandy's face, bracing her hands on her own thighs for balance. Sandy's tongue traces over her panties, firm and damp, and Pitch bares her fangs as her more monstrous instincts confuse one desperate need for another.
Sandy doesn't mind Pitch's fangs - quite the opposite, in fact - but Pitch feels self-conscious about them around Sandy because of how much she would lose if that ever changed. Pitch doesn't dream, and is thankful that she can't, but she imagines that if she did her dreams would be vicious. Her daydreams can be intrusive enough, visions of Sandy on blood-soaked sheets, and Pitch doesn't want to know what her subconscious would do with the freedom of sleep.
Sandy's fingers tug her panties aside, and the wet slide of Sandy's tongue into her exposed cunt is a welcome distraction from that chain of thought. Pitch arches and hisses, shutting her eyes.
Pitch has lived a very, very long time, and Sandy is the first human who hasn't bored her.
Sandy licks her until she's shaking, the hand that isn't keeping Pitch's panties aside squeezing and kneading Pitch's ass, and Pitch lets out a quick grunt of frustration when Sandy's tongue pulls out from her. For a moment Sandy is quiet and still, and Pitch wonders what she's thinking, before Sandy answers that thought with a question of her own. "Can I rim you?"
Pitch nods fiercely, a small moan escaping her at the thought alone, and they work together to remove Pitch's panties entirely. With Pitch stripped to just boots, Sandy can use the fingers and thumb of one hand on Pitch's cunt and clit while the other holds Pitch open, allowing Sandy to attend to her other hole with light, gentle kisses.
It should feel dirty - none of Pitch's past lovers have treated the act as if it was anything else - but with Sandy it's tender and loving, and so excruciatingly intimate Pitch covers her face with both hands, trying to ease the feeling of exposure.
Sandy's kisses start to probe, her tongue pushing in deeper and deeper each time, until Pitch comes so suddenly it takes them both by surprise. Pitch sobs with the force of it, Sandy increasing the pressure of her thumb on Pitch's clit and pushing a third finger into Pitch's cunt to help draw it out.
Pitch's thighs give, and she's careful to fall forward on the bed, freeing one hand to grab the headboard as she trembles all over, still coming, coming and coming until she aches with it. Sandy's hands pull away and Pitch hears her shift on the bed, climbing out from under her, and the cold of Sandy's absence is quickly replaced by her chest against Pitch's back, her arms wrapping around Pitch's waist.
"It's okay, it's okay, I've got you," Sandy soothes, kissing Pitch's neck and shoulder before dropping one hand down between Pitch's legs and cupping her, the light pressure helping to put Pitch at ease. "You're so beautiful."
"I'm not," Pitch says without even thinking, and it hurts that Sandy can make her like this, can turn her inside out.
"Look at me," Sandy insists, and Pitch turns her head just enough to take in the blonde curls, flushed cheeks, wide brown eyes of this gorgeous, incredible human she gets to call her own. Pitch doesn't know if Sandy means to repeat, "You're beautiful" or say "I love you" because she turns in Sandy's arms to kiss her before any other words come out. Pitch can't taste herself on Sandy's lips because she doesn't have a taste, her body sterilised by vampirism, but her tongue still remembers the salt-slick of Sandy's cunt, and the heat of their kiss lets the heat between her legs finally subside.
"I've got you," Sandy repeats quietly once they both tire of kissing, and Pitch closes her eyes and holds Sandy close to take in more of her warmth while she can.
Pitch can't stay. No matter how much she wants to, the sun will always chase her from Sandy's arms. "I wish you could keep me," Pitch says.
Sandy knows it's a vain wish, strokes a hand through Pitch's hair before saying, "Don't be late tomorrow."
Pitch nods in reply. It's a promise she can keep - she fed tonight, so she won't need to hunt again for days, maybe a full fortnight if she's lucky. "I hope I can hold a conversation by then," Pitch jokes, loosening her hold on Sandy to help straighten her nightdress and only grumbling a little at having to cover up Sandy's chest, before Pitch finally climbs off the bed to gather up her own clothes.
"You really are beautiful," Sandy says after Pitch slips her bra back on, and Pitch freezes for a moment at the honesty in Sandy's voice.
Sandy doesn't like lying or exaggerating, even if she does love to tell stories, and that kind of honesty is searing. "Thank you," Pitch says, hurriedly throwing on the rest of her clothes before opening Sandy's bedroom curtains again.
The wash of moonlight over her skin is like a dive into cold water, and Pitch walks back over to Sandy, kisses her hard as an apology for her own ignorance. Sandy never fishes for compliments, but she always deserves them.
"You are exquisite," Pitch says, promising herself she'll have more words for Sandy tomorrow, and Sandy's smile as she leaves is sunshine bright.
The flight home has never felt shorter.