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He starts with his fingertips, ghosting the pads of index and middle digit along the sloping edge of the Nightmare King’s ear. Goose-bumps break out along ashen flesh, and Sanderson watches with an affectionate smile.
He’s standing in Pitch’s lap, free hand bracing himself against his partner’s chest, leaning forward to gain access to the sweet, sensitive shell of his ear. Despite their rivalry, they always seem to end up like this, cradling one another, held close in the darkness where no one sees.
There’s a slight hitch in Pitch’s breath, almost inaudible, and Sandy’s free hand gently strokes the thick material of his companion’s robe. He finds the opening of the neckline and slips his hand inside, reveling in the sensation of skin on skin. He takes the slightly pointed tip of Pitch’s ear between his thumb and forefinger then, rubbing them back and forth in small circles. He can feel the Boogeyman’s chest rise sharply beneath his palm.
Yes, he likes this, but there’s more to come.
Closing his eyes, Sandy leans in, lips parting as he places a gentle kiss to the soft lobe, and Pitch’s silent enjoyment is broken by a rushed, breathy exhale. Spindly hands grip his round hips, a tender squeeze of approval.
“No tongue,” comes the firm, silky voice of the Boogeyman. It is not a request.
Sandy’s chubby face splits into a mischievous smile, pulling away to run his hand from the back of Pitch’s neck to the front of his chest. He smiles sweetly as both eyebrows arch in question, dream sand shapes forming over his head. Pitch can read and decipher them just as quickly as Sandy can make them.
You like tongue. You want to stop now, before the fun even begins?
Pitch’s dilated eyes narrow, and he shakes his head. He is almost out of breath and desperately trying to hide it, but Sandy can feel the pulse thrumming beneath grey skin where his hands make contact, betraying his arousal. Just the thought of the Sandman licking and sucking on his sensitive ears is nearly enough to make him loose his composure. The heated memories of previous encounters with his beautiful golden companion are probably not helping dampen his desire, either.
The look in his eyes clearly conveys his hunger and conflicting will to remain in control. “You’re mine tonight, Sandman.” He presses a single finger to Sanderson’s lips, mouth curling into a dangerous grin. “You’re going to be my sweet plaything. All you have to worry about is enjoying yourself.”
Sandy laps affectionately at the finger against his mouth as he considers. It does sound nice. He remembers many nights of Pitch over him, fully in control, gentle but firm and so, so intent on pleasing the Guardian of Dreams. But then he remembers those ears, and the nights when Pitch keens and tosses his head and looses himself between Sandy’s ministrations, and his mind is made up. Besides, he can’t always allow the Nightmare King to have his way.
Gingerly wrapping his hand around Pitch’s wrist and pulling his finger away, Sandy locks eyes with him and shakes his head deliberately in disagreement. He smiles as he does it, because he knows he will enjoy the look that overcomes Pitch’s face.
The Boogeyman’s mouth contorts from a seductive glower to a near-snarl, and Sandy cannot help but grin. “Is that so? You have other plans with a different spirit who can please you like I do?” The words soften into a lilting promise of pleasure and ecstasy, and the Sandman cannot suppress a shiver and a primal reaction in his loins. Pitch’s hands are possessive now, snaking around Sandy and pulling him closer. The words are sarcastic, but his irritation is evident. Pitch is stubborn, and doesn’t like to be argued with.
Sanderson smiles, pressing a loving kiss to his partner’s frowning lips before pulling away with a chiding wag of his finger.
Oh hush. Don’t make me get the whips.
When Pitch’s mouth falls slack at that, he places his hands on either side of the Nightmare King’s angular cheekbones and runs his tongue along black lips. They kiss, sweet and tender, for many moments before Sandy begins to travel along his partner’s jawline and finally to his destination.
He releases a puff of breath against Pitch’s ear, reveling in the full-body shudder it induces, and Sandy picks up where he left off. He parts his lips and sucks the soft earlobe into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth ever-so-gently. Pitch huffs and groans, and Sandy knows from experience that his companion has his eyes shut tightly. He doesn’t mind, and he smiles against pale grey skin before he allows his warm, wet tongue to dip into the ridged recesses of Pitch’s ear.
The Boogeyman’s fingers spasm at the welcomed invasion, grunting as he tries so hard to not let embarrassing sounds past his panting lips. He runs one hand down Sandy’s back appreciatively, while the other fumbles shakily to part glistening, sand-gold pajama bottoms. His fingers brush against the Guardian’s arousal, and Pitch grins as his lover’s oral actions falter with a silent gasp. He circles the weeping head, smearing precum along the length, seemingly short, but perfectly proportioned for the beautiful spirit it belongs to.
Sandy’s eyes fall closed as his mouth parts, momentarily overcome by the touch of Pitch’s warm palm and fingertips. He unintentionally pants against the shell of his ear, which only serves to incite the Nightmare King’s desire further. He knows Pitch must be aching by now. “S-sandy. Sandy…”
He gives the damp ear a nibble along the edge before pulling away, breathing heavily as he looks into Pitch’s wild eyes, smoldering like embers and half-lidded in languid lust.
In any other encounter between them, the Nightmare King would still be talking, listing off all of the filthy things he was going to do to him. He would tell him how sexy he looked, glowing in the darkness, how much Pitch loved to touch him, how rough he promised to be, as long as Sanderson liked it. He would assert his dominance and control with wicked banter and whispered, depraved compliments. But not tonight. Tonight, the taller spirit’s pupils are blown wide, and he is a panting, desperate, incoherent mess. All he can do is groan and stroke his lover’s erection, hoping to make him feel as good as he does.
Sandy smiles fondly and presses several fluttering kisses to Pitch’s forehead, cheeks, and lips. He finally pulls back and seats himself between the Boogeyman’s folded legs, his own limbs slung over Pitch’s thighs. Their bodies press together just right, Sandy’s exposed length and rotund belly sidling up against the constrained lump in his partner’s pants. They both share a whimpering exhale at the delicious contact.
Small, adept hands work swiftly to free the trembling erection in front of him, Pitch’s hand ghosting over them as if it intended to assist in the action but forgot how to move. Then, at last, his cock is free, flushed and dribbling precum, and Sandy grins and makes eye contact with him. Pitch unconsciously licks his dry lips, trembling and eager and moving his hands to Sanderson’s hips, pulling him close and their lengths together.
He loves the friction their cocks make together, the sloppy, slick rutting and rubbing as they stroke themselves in unison. It feels so hot, and the contrast of their skin is so mesmerizing as hips buck and hands fumble for places to clutch.
Pitch’s head falls down to the top of Sandy’s with a moan, resolve to remain silent and composed long since gone. He holds on to the back of his lover’s neck with a single hand, fingers twining through wild golden hair as they move together. He mumbles half-whispered, half-gasped words of encouragement into the soft and silky strands, unable to manage anything akin to a real sentence.
Sanderson feels tightness coiling in his abdomen. He’s close, and the sound of Pitch’s breathless whimpers just above his head are so thrilling, knowing he’s reduced the eloquent Nightmare King to near-begging. His lips curl in amusement, and he reaches up with a free hand, fingers feeling along the side of Pitch’s face. Cheek, jaw, and then…
Pitch moans loudly now, his companion’s fingers deftly working and stroking his ear again. A grey hand descends to grasp Sandy’s backside, giving him purchase to grind hard into the smaller spirit’s lap.
They both pant heavily, rocking against each other, grunts and sobs and chants of ‘yes don’t stop yes, yes’ falling unbidden from Pitch’s mouth as fingers circle the inner edge of his ear, dipping in to brush against the jutting tragus. And then their thrusts are frenzied, Sandy’s free hand sliding along their lengths and gripping Pitch’s cock as he feels himself careening off the edge.
Milky white seed shoots against his own stomach at the same time he spills against Pitch, muscles taut and mouth wide and silent in a deep gasp of orgasm. And he loves coming and feeling the Nightmare King cling to him helplessly, hear his name shouted in a higher octave than normal as fingers dig into his flesh. He loves it, can’t get enough of it, and he breathes it in as his senses slowly come back to him; the scent of smoke and musk and hot sex in the middle of the night.
Pitch slowly uncurls from him, lifting his head and letting his hand rise to rub soothing circles on Sandy’s back. His breathing is deep and warm, but his eyes are pleasantly closed. Sandy steals a kiss from the slack black lips, hands gently cupping his lover’s face. He gladly reciprocates, holding Sandy against him as he lazily lays back and allows them to recline together. When they break the kiss, Pitch’s gleaming eyes are open, wandering Sanderson’s face. “You will pay for this insolence,” he says, but doesn’t quite manage the sultry tone in his breathless state.
Sandy smirks.
We’ll talk about it in the morning.
And before Pitch can argue, his companion gathers his dream sand in one hand, sprinkling a dash into the Boogeyman’s eyes. He could have fought against it if he truly wished, but why, when pleasant dreams were so hard to come by? He allows his eyes to close as he feels Sandy snuggle up against him for a long nap. The Sandman knows what they’re both dreaming of, of the endless stars and happiness and a short, golden man who whispers ‘I love you’ before nuzzling his nose into the sensitive, slightly pointed ear of a tall, lean shadow.