Ethan
Ethan stirred, the edges of his nightmare dissolving into the haze of the sedative and wine. His mind felt heavy, his thoughts sluggish, but something pulled him toward wakefulness—a presence. It was faint at first, like a whisper at the edge of his awareness, but it grew stronger, grounding him in the here and now.
His breathing steadied, though his chest still felt tight from the remnants of the dream. He became aware of the warmth against his hand, the soft, steady pressure of fingers intertwined with his. It wasn't his imagination, but it couldn't be real, it must be part of his dream.
"Ghost girl," he murmured, his voice rough and low, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
The nickname came from somewhere deep in his subconscious, a name he had given to the fleeting presence he sometimes felt but could never quite place. He knows she wasn't real just a figment of his imagination, but in this moment, she felt real.
The warmth on his hand shifted, and he felt her start to pull away. No. He couldn't let her go—not now, not when the weight of his nightmare still lingered, not when her presence was the only thing keeping him tethered.
His fingers tightened around hers, his grip firm but not forceful. "Wait," he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with quiet urgency.
She hesitated, and in that hesitation, he acted. He tugged gently, pulling her closer, the faint rustle of fabric the only sound in the stillness of the room. His other arm moved instinctively, wrapping around her as he drew her against him.
The warmth of her body against his was immediate, soothing. He exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing as he held her. She didn't resist, though he could feel the faint tremor in her frame, as if she were caught between staying and fleeing.
"Stay," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost pleading.
He didn't open his eyes, afraid that if he did, she might vanish, like a dream slipping through his fingers. Instead, he let himself sink into the comfort of her presence, the quiet intimacy of the moment.
The nightmare faded further into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her hand in his.
As he held her, Ethan became acutely aware of the gentle pressure of her body against his, the soft rhythm of her breathing. His fingers tightened around hers, his thumb stroking the delicate bones of her wrist.
He pulls her closer until their faces were inches apart. The warmth of her breath danced across his skin, sending shivers down his spine. Ethan's let himself sink into the sensation, his lips brushing against hers in a gentle, exploratory kiss. The touch sparked a jolt of electricity, and he felt the emptiness within him stir, as if it sensed the possibility of being filled.
She doesn't pull away, just gives a small soft sigh.
That's permission enough for him. Ethan's mouth claimed hers again, this time with more urgency, his lips demanding and possessive. His hands roamed over her body, seeking out every curve and contour, as if testing the reality of her presence. His fingers danced across her skin, sending shivers coursing through her veins, and yet, she still didn't pull away. Instead, she seemed to melt into his touch, fuelling the fire growing inside him.
His lips moved against her ear, the whisper sending shivers down her spine. "Ghost Girl," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "I can do whatever I want with you, can't I? You're not real, just a figment of my imagination." His fingers trailed down her cheek, tracing the curve of her jaw before dipping lower to brush against her collarbone. "I can take you, possess you, and no one will ever know."
His hands move lower, and he pulls her shirt over her head. His eyes open in slits. This dream feels so real, it must be the sedatives he took with the wine. "God you are beautiful." He kisses her again.
He feels a surge of desire course through his veins. He pulls away from her lips, gasping for air, and gaze into her eyes, searching for answers. "Who are you, why am I drawn to you like this?" Ethan whispers without waiting for an answer.....ghosts don't talk.
He reaches down and grasp the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it off, eager to feel her skin against his.
She presses her body against his, and Ethan feels a jolt of excitement. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close as he deepens the kiss. Her fingers still tracing his chest, sending shivers down his spine. Ethan is caught up in the moment, unsure what's real and what's not, but he knows he doesn't want it to stop. He reaches down, grasps the waistband of his pants and pull it off. His erection jumps free.
He positions himself above her, he slowly pulls her pants down, revealing her smooth skin. She lifts her hips, allowing him to slide the pants off completely. He gazes into her eyes, and whisper, "My Ghost Girl..." before entering her in one swift motion. He buries himself deep within her, feeling a sense of release wash over him as he tries to escape the emptiness that's haunted him for so long, as he tries to make the ghost real.
She arches her back, her body initially tensing in response to the sudden intrusion. For a fleeting moment, he senses a hint of discomfort but then, her muscles relax, and she begins to move with him, her hips rising to meet his in perfect sync. She moans softly, a gentle cry of pleasure, as her body adjusts to his presence inside her.
As Ethan drives into Ghost Girl, he feels her body tense beneath him, her muscles contracting around his shaft. Her breathing quickens, and she lets out a soft moan as her climax washes over her. Ethan feels her pleasure ripple through him, spurring his own orgasm to the surface. He drives into her one final time, feeling his own release burst forth as he surrenders to the sensation.
Out of breath he collapses onto her. "F**kit, Ghost Girl" he relaxes against her and drifts of to sleep.
Luelle
Luelle lay still for a moment longer, her heart pounding in her chest as Ethan's breathing steadied, his body weighing hers down. She had let herself linger too long, allowed herself to indulge in the closeness she craved but knew she shouldn't have.
He thought it was a dream. She could see it in his eyes, his words soft and disconnected, the sedative and wine clouding his mind. But even in his haze, he had reached for her, pulled her closer, made love to her as though she was the anchor he needed.
It was dangerous. Reckless.
She exhaled quietly, her fingers brushing against his as she gently slipped free from his body. He murmured something unintelligible, his arm shifting slightly as though searching for her, but she stayed calm, her movements deliberate and careful.
Luelle stood, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before she picked up her clothes and get dressed. She turned her attention to the bed, smoothing the blankets where they had been disturbed, ensuring there was no trace of her presence. Her hands moved with practiced precision, checking the sheets for anything that can give away that she was really there.
She glanced at Ethan again, his face relaxed now, the tension from his nightmare gone. Her heart ached as she watched him, but she forced herself to focus. She coaxes him to put on his t-shirt and shorts, careful not to wake him. His body relaxed in deep slumber. He complies like a little child. She kisses him on his forehead and pull up the duvet to cover him.
"Sleep," she whispers. Her fingers brushed lightly against his arm, checking for any sign that her touch had left a mark. She adjusted the pillow slightly, ensuring it looked undisturbed, then stepped back, her movements silent as she surveyed the room.
Everything was as it should be.
Luelle retreated to the hidden entrance, her steps light and measured. She paused at the pantry door, her hand resting on the edge as she looked back at him one last time.