Page 28 of Come Out, Come Out

It takes them a few seconds to respond.It was.

I have trouble wrapping my mind around that. I walked through them.We touched.Another flood of wetness between my thighs. I’m so turned on and I know I shouldn’t be, but I can’t seem to care. Instead of covering myself in shame, my thumbs roll over my nipples and I resume walking backward until I’m supported by the wall, my eyes never leaving the mirror. With a smirk, I turn away and bend forward, raising my ass in the air and spreading my legs slightly. Feathering my hands up the insides of my thighs, I take my time exploring the sensitive skin. When I finally touch myself, I’m in awe of how wet I am. Angling up on my tiptoes, I give them the perfect view of me teasing my clit in torturously slow circles. I groan; I need more. Turning back around, I arch against the wall, then run my fingers down my stomach, slide one hand between my thighs, and cup my pussy as I pinch my nipple with the other hand. My teeth sink harshly into my lip to hold back a moan.

I’m about to finger myself over a ghost.For a ghost.

There’s no reservation as I let my legs butterfly open. I make eye contact with myself in the mirror then let my gaze trail over my naked body. Fuck, I look so hot like this, still flushed from the shower and panting with desire. Hypnotized by my own reflection, I trace between my pussy lips then bring my slick fingers over my clit and rub in languid circles. I tug at my nipple again and my back bows almost painfully. A gasp escapes me when I apply more pressure.

“Do you want to see me fuck myself?” I ask, my voice breathy with need.

I expect another yes, but they surprise me.Roughly.One word and it’s more than enough. The air leaves my lungs at the command. I’m so fucking wet as I sink a finger inside. I tease the opening with another, then slide that one in too. I pump slowly at first to adjust, but I’m so wet, they glide in and out easily. Speeding up the pace, my fingers move fast and hard while my other hand attentively teases my clit. A gasp and shudder rocks through me when I raise my hips and thrust against myself.

I force my eyes open against the pleasure and find a message waiting for me.Another.

A laugh of disbelief leaves me, but I comply. My toes curl at the stretch of the third finger. It’s been a minute since I’ve been this full.Since Aiden.My pussy grips my fingers tightly at the thought of him, pulling a reluctant moan out of me. I continue the punishing pace as my legs start to shake with tremors of my impending orgasm. I build on the fantasy, imagining that they’re leering over me. Just close enough to see every bead of sweat and hear every whimper but refusing to touch me. I clench my eyes closed, trying to create an image of what they could possibly look like in my mind—it ends up being Aiden’s face that comes to me. I can see him so clearly, his clenched fist against the wall just above my head, the other intently stroking that beautiful cock, the eye of his tattoo staring up at me in challenge. I can almost hear him say,‘You better come, little wraith’.Fuck, I’m so close. I drop down into a squat and open my mouth, letting my tongue sit heavily on my lower lip like I’m about to welcome his warm, salty cum into my throat. God, I want to drink it all down. I’m shaking violently now, desperate for release. I’m only able to hold it together for a few more seconds. I press harshly on my clit as I pump relentlessly and gyrate my hips, wholly lost to the heady desire I’ve created for both of my mysterious strangers.

I collapse onto my knees, breathing heavily. My limbs are loose; I could fall asleep any second. I tilt my head up so I can see the mirror, but I’m disappointed to find that it’s fully cleared of steam over the last few minutes.Well, that was fucking weird. But it was so fucking good.

Aiden

January 8th, 2021 – One Week Later

This past week, Skye has towed the line of flirtation and driven me up the wall with the need to sink my cock into her. Her teasing after the shower has been more fulfilling than I’d expect, given that I can’t really participate, not the way I want to. But the real satisfaction comes from her finally acknowledging me—and not in a fearful or bitter way, in acceptance. She’s happy I’m here.

I sit on one end of the bathroom counter while she sits at the other end, closest to the shower that’s currently running hot. Steam billows around, dramatizing her dark hair and pajamas—if you can call the tiny scraps of fabric that. Her right leg is tucked under her left that swings over the edge giving me a clear view of the old silvery scars on her inner thigh. I ache to run my fingers over them and soothe the old hurt that’s buried there. My attention is drawn to the fogged mirror as she writesColor?

Green. And I follow it with,Urs is black. I chuckle to myself, the more convenient shorthand reminding me of my preteen years.

“Observant,” she says under her breath, but I hear her clearly in the small, echo-y space. I don’t miss the blush that colors her cheeks pink, either.

The hope I try so hard to keep close to my chest almost slips its leash, but I reign it in.She doesn’t know it’s you, Aiden. Right now, you’re just a ghost. You don’t mean anything to her.I tell myself sternly, even though I can taste the bitterness of the lie as I stare into her smiling face.

“Band?” she continues the conversation, the moment passed us.

Ever?I write in response.

She laughs and nods.

Cruel.I write quickly before pausing to think about it. That’s a universally tough question, no one has just one favorite band. Finally, I respond.Queen.A few seconds later I add,Green Day.About ten other names fly through my mind immediately—Def Leppard, The White Stripes, Nirvana, blink 182, The Rolling Stones, the list is endless.

“So, you have good taste, then,” she quips, “good to know I’m not driving you out of your mind with my music choices.”

Never.Then I add:Thank u.I can’t exactly express how much her love of music has meant to me in this otherwise isolated existence, but that will have to do, for now. If I ever get a chance to see her again, when I’m whole and solid and visible, I plan to tell her everything.

Another hour goes by with us exchanging fun facts about ourselves, passing the time easily, but then she’s yawning and watching the mirror through drooping eyes.

Goodnight.I force my finger to form the letters. I could stay here with her for an eternity, but I remind myself that Skye is still very much alive, meaning she needs sleep. Desperately so. She’s haunted even when her eyes are closed and her body’s at rest.

“Night,” she mumbles sleepily before turning off the light, plunging me in the darkness once again. With nothing else to do, I turn over the memories of the last week. Spending time with her, being seen by her, is the closest I’ve felt to being alive in months.

It’s more than I realistically should have ever hoped for. And yet, it’ll never be enough. I could never be satisfied with anything less than everything with her. That’s the price I’ll pay for my sins; never knowing true fulfillment, remaining just shy of happiness. I’d kill those three bastards again without a second thought to suffer like this. To know how it feels to yearn for her like this.

I thank the fates in one breath and curse my luck in the next.

Unable to stay away from her now that I have her back, I follow her into the bedroom. To my surprise, she’s already asleep. Binx stops mid-cleaning his paw and watches me from his perch on her bed. We exchange a slow blink and he goes about his business. I love that damn cat, too. He’s always been welcoming, but now that Skye’s fear has subsided and the energy in the house is more at ease, he’s gradually becoming a companion of sorts. One I could surely use. I’m grateful for him,forthem.

Mixed in with the relief I feel about having them back is the guilt. There’s a growing pit in my stomach over the thought that she doesn’t know who I am. A lie of omission is still a lie. But I don’t know how to explain my circumstances. I don’t even understand them myself. I wish she’d ask me. But then again, it’s probably a discovery made best in person. I wonder if she’ll be mad that I didn’t tell her who I am. Maybe she won’t care. She doesn’t even really know me except for my name anyway. I mean, she knows my body and I know hers, but Skye hasn’t had the opportunity to observe me,obsessover me, the way I have with her.

Crossing the room, I stand beside the bed, looking down at my girl. Over the last year, I fell for her. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, always too scared to truly let my guard down. But this,her, I can’t hide from it. I don’t want to.

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