Page 12 of Giving Up The Ghost
His kiss was sudden but not brief. After my initial startled gasp, it softened, and I sighed into his lips moving against mine. Oscar kissed like it was poetry. Maybe that was just me being fanciful, but I knew, when he kissed me, whether it was a brief peck or a long, passionate embrace or something sloppy and horny and hot, it made everything in my brain and heart slow, it made it all make sense for the time he held me and drew these shivers of need and want from me.
He knew how to turn me to absolute putty and used that to his advantage, which I highly encouraged. I sighed and stretched as he pushed me gently down to the mattress, working my shirt open as he kissed his way from my lips to my jaw, nipping the soft skin just beneath the bone and moving to my throat. “Yes, please,” I sighed. “Just like that.”
He smiled against my throat. “You’re easy to please.”
“Maybe you’re just good at pleasing me.”
That drew another laugh, one that tickled against the sensitive spot above my collarbone and sent shooting stars straight to my cock. Oscar wasted no time in pulling my shirt off, his following along with his waistcoat and cravat. “One day I’m going to make you keep the cravat on while we do this,” I panted, his hands working my pants open, his cock hard against my thigh.
“Anything you want, Julian,” he murmured, then leaned down and pressed a kiss just below my navel, then to the trimmed hair around my prick, then, glancing up at me with a devilish little smirk, the tip of my leaking cock. One of the comforts and bedevilments of having a lover so familiar with your body was they both knew how to make it last, but also could bring you to a quick end. Oscar was in a quick mood, showing little mercy as he worked me with his mouth and tongue, one hand expertly stroking and teasing my balls, occasionally slipping down my crease to brush a finger against my rim, while the other moved, bumping into my leg rhythmically.
“Are you jerking off?”
He made an affirmative sound around my cock, sending a ripple of sensation straight to my balls.
“Fuck, I want to see…”
Oscar smiled around me, dipping down lower until I could feel his throat around me, his finger pressing just inside my hole. That was all it took to send the familiar tightening in my groin shattering into a thousand white-hot pieces. I muffled my cry against my forearm, the shout fading to whimpers as Oscar milked me for all I was worth, swallowing everything I had to give.
“Do you still want to see?” he rasped, scrambling up onto the bed when I nodded. Carefully, he straddled my chest, his hand working his slick cock with a wet, slapping sound. “Shit,” he gasped. “Close.”
I nodded, closing my eyes. He grunted, swearing under his breath, his release landing on my lips, my chin, my chest.
I drifted, shivering when he moved away from me to grab a cloth. He cleaned us both before snuggling next to me on the narrow bed, curling his leg around my good one, and tucking his chin against my shoulder.
“I’m sorry I’m difficult,” he whispered when I thought he was asleep.
“I love you.”
He smiled against my arm, his breath feathering against my skin as my eyes grew too heavy to keep open.
* * *
Oscar was gonewhen I woke up.
I really had no room to complain—how many times had I slipped out of bed to work on something, to follow a hyperfixation down a rabbit hole?
Still. Didn’t mean I liked waking up alone. Dressing quickly, I headed downstairs to look for Oscar. It was already nine, but the house was still quiet save for the faint rumble of Ezra’s snoring and the soft sounds of someone talking in another room.
No, not talking.
Crying.
The sound was ahead of me, moving with me, leading me down the stairs. In the slice of morning light coming in through the half-circle window over the door, I saw a woman with her back to me, head bent low and shoulders shaking.
“Charlotte?” I called softly, the realization that it was not her striking the moment the woman started to turn at the sound of my voice.Of course, it’s not Charlotte. Her hair is too long to be Charlotte. And she’s too tall.The thoughts skittered across my tired brain, dragging alongburglar? Charlotte’s daughter come to visit? Shit, is it a neighbor or someone who walked into the wrong house?The woman paused, quarter-profile to me, and straightened her shoulders. Her profile was elfin and sharp, from what I could see, and for a moment she was bright and solid. Hair held back in a long braid with some sort of sparkly deely-bob at the end, jeans that were practically painted on, chunky boots, and a peasant top sort of affair, she reminded me of pictures I’d seen of my Aunt Kathy from her high school years in the nineties. She raised a hand to dash at her eyes, scrubbing at spectral tears as she stared fixedly ahead.
“Hello,” I called softly. “Can you hear me? My name is Julian. Um. I’m fairly new at this here, so I’m not sure if I can help you, but if youdoneed help, I can get someone. Like right away even. My boyfriend is a medium. One of the best, I’ve been told.”
She finally turned to look at me. Her eyes were wide, lips parted in either surprise or amusement, and she lifted one hand as if to wave. She moved then, a sudden burst of motion that left a cold trail in her wake. She blurred towards the cellar door off the kitchen. Then she was gone. Just gone.
Well.
Guess I was still seeing ghosts then.
A snuffle in the study dragged me forward even as I fumbled my phone from my pocket. Hurriedly, I opened my notes app and recorded the date, time, environmental factors, my own state of being, and the woman’s description.Why is she sad? I underlined and bolded.Ask O: Do living emotions transfer after death, or is it a different experience for the dead?
In the doorway, I hesitated, looking back at the spot where I’d seen her. Just in front of the table, she’d been facing the study itself, looking through the open doorway. I backed up a few steps and stood where she’d been. Oscar’s leg, hanging off the sofa, was visible, and the soft hiss of his breath through his parted lips was barely audible. Stacks of binders—an entire library’s worth from the looks of things—covered every flat surface.
