I stared at the horizon until the sun had descended all the way beyond the mountains, leaving only the pink-orange glow. A few times birds would flit by our window, but they didn’t perch on the eaves or spare me a glance. More relaxed than I’d ever felt before in Zan’s presence, I took a step toward him.
He matched my forward with one backward.
“Stay still,” I said, taking another step.
His mouth opened and closed in surprise, and he twitched like he was fighting a deeply ingrained instinct to retreat. Had he often had people terrified of him? Because he’d only known me for a few hours, so the instinct couldn’t be that prominent. I didn’t ask, taking another step forward.
We stood only a metre apart, but my body was barely tensed. I wasn’t on the verge of fainting or hyperventilating. My weight shifted from one foot to the other, brain tempted to bring us back a step, but it wasn’t hard to fight.
Had my incident with the other ghost cemented how harmless Zan was? Because I’d assumed I’d be more terrified of him after.
“What are you doing?” he asked, watching my feet slide closer.
Half a metre. I felt the cold emanating from his foggy form brush against my skin, and I shuddered, but still didn’t panic. “Facing a fear. I can’t be terrified of you forever.”
“You’re very much allowed to be scared of me forever,” he countered. “No one would fault you.”
Iwould fault myself, because I wanted to spend time with him. Learn about why he was so caring and soft and optimistic despite being a ghost over a thousand years old. His personality had grown on me, and now I wanted to touch him.
Possibly in a naughty way, if he would let me. I couldn’t stop thinking about ghost sex since he’d mentioned it.
“You don’t deserve that,” I said. “You’re too sweet for me to avoid you.”
My body finally froze up with my familiar response when I slid forward a little more, close enough to be chest to chest. He watched my shoulders and frowned at the tension, moving back. “Don’t,” I barked out, forcing in a deep breath. “I need to wait for it to pass.”
I hoped it would pass.
Eventually, my terror always passed, but only after the object of the fear was long gone. This time, though, I wouldn’t let him leave. Zan wasn’t what I feared. I was scared of what he was, and that wasn’t fair.
One by one, my muscles relaxed with my deep breaths, and I got used to the cool tingle of his closeness. When I lifted a trembling hand and ran it along the fog of his chest, he sucked in a breath. “Hadley,” he whispered, his voice breathy.
“Can you do me a favour? You don’t have to.”
“Yes. Anything.”
He was so eager, happiness lighting up his features. I’d never seen him so thrilled, because he was always sad or apologetic in my presence. “Make yourself solid. Your cock.”
Zan whimpered, moving back from the slow circles my fingers were tracing in his fog. Now that I’d experienced what it was like to be close to the ghost, his movements hardly phased me. “That’s… um… you don’t need to do that.”
“Do you not want me to?”
“No!” he said, hastily shaking his head. “I want you, but I’d rather… I’d rather be the one to touch you.”
The thought of his fingers pressing inside me, of me being the one to come undone, was tempting but too terrifying to entertain. I needed to be in control. My guard couldn’t go down around the ghost, or I’d end up curled in a ball crying and using my unhealthiest coping mechanisms.
“Maybe another time. I want to be the one in control.”
Understanding lit his expression, his head tilting down until his fluffy hair hid his eyes. “OK. I’ll let you. I don’t know how long I can hold this, though…”
His groin area went solid and full colour, oddly drifting in the mass of his mist. I was tempted to laugh at how bizarre it was, but I knew he would assume I was laughing at him.
Reaching out, I undid the decorative button on his trousers with shaking hands that steadied as I worked. I’d done this before. Never to a ghost, but the sense of familiarity did wonders for my nerves.
I slid the fabric down his legs until I reached his foggy mid-thighs, leaving him in only a pair of briefs with a growing bulge. Stroking my fingers across it, I listened to him hiss and glanced up to watch the bright blush dance across his cheeks. A few times, I caught myself trying to touch different parts of him with my free hand, only to pull myself back when I remembered I couldn’t touch. By the time his cock was fully hard, I was palming him and he was panting. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Yes,” he answered, clenching his fists like he couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands. I wouldn’t either. Usually, in moments of intense pleasure, I gripped and groped and touched every available part of my partner. He couldn’t do that with me, and I was glad he didn’t try. Having a cold hand swipe through my body would have been unsettling and enough to incite panic.
“Can I take your cock out?”
