It…it looked, in all honesty, like the illegitimate offspring of a skeleton and a ghost - who might have been a male model or hairdresser at some point in its life, judging by that outrageous, flaming pink pompadour. But Arthur wasn't dwelling on the details at the moment, his brain was far too frazzled from sheer terror as he stared into the bottomless pits of the skull's eye sockets belonging to the hulking figure looming over him. Zonks, why did he ever get into the mystery-hunting business again?! It wasn't his fault that his two best friends had some weird, borderline creepy LOVE for anything supernatural, especially Vivi. She was the ringleader really, and where Arthur would almost jump out of his skin if a floorboard so much as creaked, she would get a familiar excited sparkle in her eyes and jump at the chance to investigate. Usually, she would drag her on-again off-again sorta-boyfriend Lewis with her, but…

"Lewis…" Arthur sobbed, barely audible as the specter closed in, cornering him with his broad shoulders to cut off any escape route. It was simple from there, closing his eyes and backing up against the stone wall of the mansion. It felt grounding somehow, comfortable even, like he had deserved this for a long time and it was finally happening.

Except something happened, something mortifying and that kinda awkward that only happens maybe once or twice in your life and every time you think about it while trying to sleep you just wanna hide in a hole and never come out – you know, that kind. It all started when the skeleton floated so close that Arthur's fight-or-flight reflex must have short-circuited from sheer panic, and he actually attempted to push the ghost away. His comparatively small hands met a very solid chest clothed in an expensive-looking black suit, making the mistake of cupping what appeared to be a beating heart made out of gold. A loud 'chink' sound echoed through the hallway, indicating it was his metal arm that had collided with the strange heart. It stuttered in his hand, and the ghost froze, then shuddered, letting out a strange sort of groan before grabbing both of Arthur's hands, raising them above his head and slamming his whole body against the stone wall.

"You will pay for that…"
Deep. So impossibly, lusciously deep.

Arthur was pinned, and…oh shit. He was pinned. This couldn't be happening now, but it was…that one violent, dominating gesture had sparked something inside him that turned into a sudden flare. The ghost was obviously a little taken aback by the look in his prey's eyes, but he decided to pay it no mind for now – his revenge was so close and he wanted to enjoy every delectable moment. He invaded the other man's space in typical villain form, grinning devilishly with his eyes and pressing his large bulk against him, meaning to appear intimidating. It was quite a sight – a powerful, angry specter immobilizing his victim physically, ensuring no further escape was possible while Arthur struggled helplessly in his iron-like grip.
At least that's what it would have looked like to a spectator.
Arthur, however…clearly didn't see it like that, though. His breathing was labored, sure, that was to be expected when you were so – petrified? Is that was this was? No, it couldn't be, because as he strained against his bonds, he arched his back so that his weight was supported by his shoulders on the wall behind him, and he fucking moaned when his lower body made contact with the specter's. To say the ghost-man was surprised was laughable, it hardly came close to describing the comically confused expression that now oozed from his skull-like face. Dumbfounded, he couldn't will his body to move away as the living man practically molested his upper thigh, straining and grinding almost involuntarily. Arthur was mortified – stupid body, the hell is wrong with you?! You can't seriously be turned on being seconds from death. But there was the evidence, right there in the front of his trousers, pressed against the ghost's leg as he moved desperately against him. His hands hurt, as the ghost's grip got even tighter in an attempt to make him stop, but that one simple movement made his eyes squeeze shut and his mouth fall open in a small gasp.

This brought back memories - for both of them. The ghost's name was Lewis, and he was once a valued member of the Mystery Skulls (a paranormal investigative gang), before this man currently pleasuring himself on his leg killed him by pushing him off a cliff into various pointy things. But that wasn't the memory he had in mind at the moment.


It had been a classic case, textbook really. The gang had been contacted to investigate a supposedly zombie-infested fairground, and in good form the gang had decided to split up to cover more ground. While Lewis would usually go with his sorta-gf Vivi, it had been annoying him lately that Arthur and Mystery would rather sneak off to find free food than do any actual work, so he made the leadership decision that Vivi should go with her dog Mystery, while Arthur would come with him. Arthur actually seemed glad at the prospect – a muscular 6ft friend was WAY better protection than a dog after all.
They parted ways as they had so many times. It was a typical scene – two teenagers fumbling around in the dark of a foggy, abandoned county faire with only a flashlight for guidance. They were sitting ducks, and before long, the zombies (who turned out to be just one zombie, who turned out to be Old Man Jenkins in disguise after the fact) caught them unawares and dragged the pair into the animal training tent. Lewis was very strong, but the crafty old man had anticipated his and shot him full of some kind of muscle relaxant. After seeing his bodyguard friend fall so easily, Arthur had neither the strength nor the will to run or fight, and the 'zombie' figured he wasn't worth the extra drug to incapacitate him. He chuckled low in his throat and bashed him over the head instead, dazing him, before he fetched a length of rope and tied them securely together, back-to-back. Lewis could do nothing to stop this, he had never felt so helpless in his entire life. His body didn't feel right, it felt like his limbs weighed next to nothing and like he was floating, he might even drift away if he wasn't tied to his friend. For good measure, the zombie hurriedly blindfolded and gagged Arthur because jesus Christ he would NOT stop whimpering. Was the drug that powerful that Lewis wasn't a concern? Bastard.

The 'zombie' let out an exaggerated zombie-like gurgle, pleased with his zombie-ish work, and shuffled away in a very zombie-like fashion, obviously intending to find the others before returning to deal with the boys. Lewis smiled to himself and tapped the back of his head onto Arthur's.
"Hey, hey buddy. Dija…haha, woah." His head spun and he had to take a deep breath before continuing. "Didja see the price tag swinging from his rubber mask? Ohhhhmigod. That is the most bullshit costume yet, haha, right Art?"
He prodded the blond with his elbow, trying to elicit a response, but all he got in return was labored breathing, muffled somewhat through the thin cloth of the gag.
"Scared stiff?" He asked, innocently.

If only he'd chosen those words more carefully.

He didn't notice at first, because he was attempting to loosen his bonds, but Arthur's back was getting suspiciously sweaty for the middle of Spring. He was breathing even more irregularly and even appeared to be sort of rocking back-and-forth, as though traumatized. The rhythmic shaking made Lewis turn his head in concern, but his reassuring words were caught in his throat when he saw a sizable tent in the front of Arthur's pants out of the corner of his eye. His face was beet-red, brow furrowed in confusion and sweat beaded at his temples as he attempted to relieve some of the building pressure by practically rutting against the thick rope at his hips. The chords of the rope even skated across his nipples and he groaned in ecstasy. Lewis couldn't believe it, I mean he knew people were into some pretty kinky stuff and all, heck he had a few less-than-manly ones himself, but…This was Art. Cowardly, moody, loyal Art, and Lewis had never really thought about his friend in this kind of situation before. As the rocking became a bit more erratic, Lewis couldn't help but feel a little…strange, too. He tried to ignore the warm pooling feeling in his stomach, really, he did. Out of respect for Art, for Vivi, and for his Momma, goddamn did he try. The force of the rocking was pulsing through his whole body, and he blamed the drugs for his own reaction to the breathy little pants that were now coming from the other man. Yuuup, definitely the drug. No other explanation would allow him to feel less guilty as he held his breath, attempting to hold in the ragged gasp threatening to bubble forth, but all that did was make his head spin. Maybe he would make himself faint on purpose, or fake it at least so that Art wouldn't have to feel embarrassed? But, Art had no such reservations; he was much too lost in his obviously newly-awakened kink for restraints. He threw his head back, resting it on the beefy shoulder of his friend as he managed to get half of his hand free and grasped forcefully at the back of Lewis' shirt. His head lolled to the side, gradually, and his breath was wet and loud in the other man's ear. Why the fuck was he so vocal, that gag did absolutely nothing to muffle his sounds as he had managed to work it inside his mouth. Don't quit your day-job, zombie! Without warning, he let out a long, drawn-out, shaky moan as he pressed the entire length of his back against the larger mans'. Lewis choked out a sob in reply; he couldn't see Art's expression because of the blindfold, but he could feel and smell the blonde hair; it tickled his face and smelled faintly of hairspray and lemon. His senses overstimulated, he sagged forward in defeat, gyrating his hips as best he could as the fingers of his friend gradually hiked up the back of his shirt to reveal some skin at the small of his toned back. This was so fucked up.

The mortification would come later when the two chose not to explain why there were wet patches in the front of their pants when they were rescued by an indifferent dog named Mystery, who chose to bite through the rope without comment. The rope burns lasted for days, but Lewis figured it was the drug still in his system that made his loins throb every time he saw a flash of red on his very-platonic friends pale wrists. After that, Art took up the habit of wearing a pair of wristbands, and the matter was dropped.


"Lewis I'm so sorry…I was…possessed by a jealousy spirit…it used my arm and - I would never, could never…" His voice cracked with emotion as he turned his head slightly to the side, wanting a clean blow, a quick end, and the memory of his best friend fresh in his mind when the ghost decided to deliver the final blow. It never came, however, and the blond opened one eye a crack to see his deliverer appearing to hesitate. His once soulless eye sockets now had mysterious glowing pupils - a shocking purple-pink – and when Arthur turned to fully face him he saw something familiar. He saw…humanity. The purple orbs darted over his body and drifted slowly over the metal of the arm illuminated by the candles lining the hall, and when they came to rest back on a quizzical face, he saw no trace of maliciousness. He floated there for a moment, before relaxing its shoulders and backing off a little. If Arthur felt hope it was short lived, because with a snap of Mr. Specter's fingers five little purple ghosts appeared behind the frightened man and grabbed hold of him. With a yelp, he was pulled backwards and he phased through the fucking wall. His whole body shook with terror as he felt the stones brushing against his insides, the gravel passing through without pain, but it was a weird feeling…especially while hard. Now Arthur would never admit the next part, he would swear to the grave that the little bastards hit him over the head to make him unconscious, but really…

He fainted like a little pussy.
…And awoke the next day chained up in shackles, in what appeared to be a dungeon, with a very flustered-looking ghost standing over him.