AN: I usually don't care for songfics. Don't write them, don't read them. But I discovered this old-ish song by Slipknot (favorite band! don't judge) and it's so weird sounding, creepy, but damn seductive. By far their sexiest song. I love it because it's not obvious they're talking about sex and possibly rape. The speech is more figurative, poetic. I just HAD to use it in a smutty fic! What better fandom than 'Haunting?' The lyrics are ghostly, eerie, simply PERFECT for a Wendy/Ghost-Jonah lemon!

Keep in mind though, this is my first EVER lemon, first EVER songfic. Forgive me for getting personal, but even though I'm not a virgin, I don't have loads of sexual experience. My encounters have been awkward, painful, and not very pleasant. Soo if things seem weird and/or forced, that's my excuse. 8| Also, the ending may be abrupt. I'm too lazy and fresh out of ideas to fix it.

Anyway, enjoy.

Wendy watched the clock in the kitchen, struggling against her own fatigue. She glared at the second-hand as it jerked around in circles. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick. It was almost ten o'clock at night. Nearly bedtime. She feared greatly the moment she would fall asleep.

Her spine repeatedly tingled with anxiety. It felt like icy fingernails stroking up and down her back, the base of her neck as its epicenter. She shuddered constantly in her lavender satin pajamas.

Would he be there again tonight? She hoped with all her heart he would; she dreaded him to the point of nausea.

I can see you but you can't see me
I could touch you and you wouldn't even feel me.
Wait a second and you'll settle down
I'm just waiting 'til you really let your guard down.

Nearby, he watched the clock with the same intentness as she. Every tick brought them closer. He was strongest at night; he was strongest in their bedroom. He'd be strongest tonight. He'd been saving―saving and preserving and building so much energy, which he could never have enough of. Not for what he had planned that night.

Energy to obtain his smooth, unscathed form. Energy to perfect the form beyond what it had been during his life, make him more enticing. Energy to be solid. Energy to follow her, approach her, touch her. Energy to show her that he could do more than be horrific.

You're relaxed,
You're sublime,
You're amazing.
You don't even know the danger you're facing.

Her lips stretched open in one final yawn; she'd had it. Jonah watched as Wendy got up and flicked off the kitchen lights. He could hear her heart race with apprehension in the dark. She began her trek up the creaky wooden staircase.

If I'm quiet, I'll slide up behind you.
And if you hear me
I'll enjoy trying to find you.

She ascended the steps cautiously, listening for every little sound in the place that was not of her making. Jonah hung back, farther from her than he would have liked. But he had to be careful―he couldn't lose her trust so early in his pursuit.

Wendy reached her bedroom and closed the door―swift and snappy, compared to her previously gradual movements. She stared at herself in her vanity mirror for some time, the same mirror Jonah would gaze into and choke with disgust. All fell silent except for the faint rhythm of Wendy's hairbrush as she ran it through her dark tresses, attempting to relax herself.

Finally, she turned off the lights. She flicked on her lamp. And she crawled into bed.

I've been with you all day
I'm trying to stay calm.
I'm impatient and it's really hard to breathe
I'm going to empty you and fill you in with me.

Despite her nerves, she fell asleep in a very short time. Jonah wanted to immediately contact her, his anticipation crushing him. But he sat on the floor near her bedside and waited, for about an hour, watching her sleep.

Around 11:30, he touched her face. She didn't jolt awake in fear as he'd expected, only opened her eyes dreamily as if she did not believe she actually felt it. He touched her again, her shoulder. It was then that she began to look alarmed. With a little gasp she glanced up from her pillow and her eyes laid on him. She gazed in awe for a while, having never seen him without burns, without hideousness. She took the sight in.

As she began to snap out of her wonder and appear frightened, he pressed a finger to his lips and whispered, "Don't be afraid, Wendy."

Just keep the violence down.
Not yet, don't make a sound.
Oh, God, I'm feeling it―
It's reaching fever pitch.

His hand again on her shoulder, she gasped and trembled under his touch. Yet she still was not nearly as terrified as she could have been, should have been.

"Jonah―!" she mouthed. Her trembling ceased, she froze, then pulled herself to be sitting upright. "You're here every night. What do you want?" she hissed, refusing to make eye contact with him.

He bent down slightly so their faces were even; she had no choice but to meet his eyes. "I want you to understand. And I want you to stay calm." He smoothed his hand over her frizzy, messy, gorgeous hair, and she shuddered but didn't recoil.

"Understand what?"

"That ghosts get lonely, too." Hooking his finger under her chin, he turned her head to look directly at him. She set her hand on his. He felt their faces flush simultaneously. Without hesitation, he pushed his mouth onto hers, and she resisted, but only at first. She gave in with a helpless little yelp in her throat.

My skin is caving in,
My heart is driving out,
No mercy, no remorse
Just let nature take its course.

Kissing Wendy was more than he'd ever anticipated, partially due to the easy success of his advances. It sent electrical pulses through his lips, into his stomach, through his entire body, reaching the tips of all his fingers. His member immediately stiffened at the thrill.

When he wrapped his arms around her, her torso went limp in his embrace. She grasped the back of his shirt collar in little fists so she wouldn't fall backward.

She pulled away from his kisses in a thick daze. "Are we going to make love?" she inquired with the curiosity and innocence of a child, her speech slurred.

"Exactly how you want it," he murmured.

Watching―bring me to my knees,
Waiting―I am your disease,
Lover―set my symptom free,
Covered―you can't stop me.

Wendy laid back on her bed, submissive, as Jonah unbuttoned her pajama shirt. He was so real, unbelievably real, so solid and seductive and gorgeous. How was this possible? Was she dreaming? Whatever was happening to her, she didn't know how to process it. Her heart thundered, her chest heaved.

Cold air met her suddenly bare chest. Jonah brought his head down and took her right nipple in his mouth, under his tongue, between his teeth. Nervous as she felt, she did not want any of this to stop. It was as if she had been waiting for this for ages―a fantasy she'd been having that she never knew she'd been having. A dream at the back of her mind that escaped her conscience.

He stripped her of her pants as well, leaving her sprawled across the bed, shivering and exposed. There was a rustling noise as he took his own clothes off, slid his trousers down to his ankles and kicked them to the floor. Eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping the blankets, she felt the mattress tilt and adjust as he climbed up on top of her.

Shh, wait; shh, no.
Wait―wait―no.
Wait―wait―not yet.
No―wait―wait!

Jonah's body pressed down onto hers, his warm supple skin doing little to cure her chills. She felt his hardness brush up against her thigh, and that's when it became real for her. She gasped in pure dread.

"Jonah!" she cried. "I'm―I'm a virgin…"

"I know," he said gently. "I'll try to make it as comfortable for you as possible." There were nerves in his voice, too. His enticing demeanor was faltering, he became a tense boy instead of a husky man. Without another word, he made a move to begin entering her.

"Wait! Are you a virgin, too?" she asked, assuming purity from his side as well, with his native timeframe and tragic, isolated past.

He blurted, "No."

Wendy's imagination exploded in flames and her head flooded with pictures, ideas, trying to visualize the lovers of Jonah's past. While her mind reveled in this mystique, a painfully thick pressure slipped inside of her. He pushed deeper and deeper, split her open. She buried her face in Jonah's shoulder and muffled her scream over his skin.

I'm sweating through my veins,
I'm trying to hold on,
It's unbearable, it's almost worse for me,
I'm going to tear you apart and make you see―Make you see!

Jonah laid a tender kiss on her forehead in an attempt to make it better. To take the pain away. It bothered him deeply―she felt no magic, only hurt. Her pain became his pain. He had to release her from her agony. Gentle, gentle, gently now―he adjusted his pelvis a single steady thrust. Wendy took in a harsh, shaky breath that tore his dead heart in half.

All at once, he could control himself anymore. His affections had to be made known―no more hesitance, no more clumsiness. With one rapid, violent motion he trust himself all the way in, which caused the mattress to rock underneath them. Wendy arched her back and yelped, digging her fingernails into his back. More and more her pain seemed to ebb, each gasp contained less anguish.

Waiting―bring me to my knees!
Watching―I am your disease!
Lover―set my symptom free!
Covered―you can't stop me!

Wendy relaxed her tense muscles, wrapped her legs around Jonah's body, let herself go and concentrated on the degree of pleasure that slowly replaced the pain. Her conscience had disintegrated and all that mattered to her was the saliva and the skin and the sweat.

She still could not get her mind wrapped around it―the boy in the pictures, the boy in the newspapers, and the boy making love to her: they were synonymous. The same person. The same ghost.

Jonah surrendered to his bliss as well. His deep huffs and moans tickled her ear.

"I love you!" he cried.

As soon as those outrageous words trickled off his lips, Wendy's mind was ripped from the present. She went somewhere else; not really somewhere else, but her very bedroom in a different era. She'd known for a while that her bedroom used to be Jonah's, way back when, but why was she here? Where did Jonah as she knew him go? She could still feel him, she neared her crisis, but what was this, appearing before her eyes?

Instead of her cute, elaborate bed with a thick turquoise quilt and painted brass bed frame, Jonah's bed had been small―too short for a growing teenager with long legs―close to the drafty floor, and a very thin white throw blanket served as his comforter. Jonah from the past entered the room, appearing plagued by complete exhaustion and misery, and flopped himself down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. His eyes began to droop, but he all at once found himself wrapped in horror.

Invisible forces lifted his arms and pinned them down on either side of his head. His legs were forced apart as far as they could go while staying on the narrow bed, pinned by his ankles. He could obviously see his ghostly attackers, but the onlooker Wendy could not.

What happened next repulsed her beyond anything, even beyond the sickening sight of Jonah charred and blistered. The spirits threw trinkets around the room, knocked everything off his dresser and dumped the clothes out of his drawers, and finally proceeded to yank the medium's ratty brown trousers to his ankles. Jonah shrieked and sobbed as he was taken over, but he knew no one could hear him―the spirits would make sure that Aickman would not hear. He doubted that Ramsay would care enough to save him, anyway.

They finally released him and left, but Jonah remained frozen in the same position they'd pinned him to. He was silent at first, but his chest began to twitch and heave. He sobbed softly but with a greater emotional depth than Wendy had ever experienced a boy her age cry.

This is the Virus, the Virus of Life,
This is inside us, the crisis, the knife.
This is the Virus, the Virus of Life,
This is inside us, the crisis, the knife.

"Jonah!" she panted, made nauseous by her vision. "Jonah, wait, stop." He obeyed, pulled himself out, and got off her―instead, he laid next to her, disappointed and confused. He didn't say a word, not even to ask what was wrong.

She frantically stroked his hair, stroked his face, kissed his lips and nose and eyelids. "I'm so sorry," she moaned, voice broken. "I know what they did to you, I saw it! I saw it!"

Those enchanting blue eyes widened. "You―you saw? You had a vision? I―I must've accidentally showed you. Spirits, sometimes we lose control in a fit of deep emotion." He quieted, taking her hands in his. With utmost sincerity, he whispered, "That's why I said I'm not a virgin. Because that's technically the truth. But I promise, you're the first woman I've known, the first delightful encounter, and the most delightful. I'm okay if you're okay."

She gulped and nodded against her pillow. "I'm okay. Please―let's try it again."

It's almost time to play,
It's time to be afraid,
I can't control the pain,
I can't control in vain.

Jonah made a move to get back in missionary position, but Wendy stopped him. She got up and straddled his hips, and a grin split his face.

She took his penis and fondled it curiously for a while, searching for "good spots" while getting lost as she looked down into his eyes.

Setting his hands on her thighs, he breathed, "Now."

She leaned forward and slowly impaled herself on his erection.

Oh, God, I'm ready now,
You're almost ready now,
I'm gonna love you now,
I'm gonna break you down.

This time was better than previously―more passionate, more pleasurable, less hesitant. They knew what they wanted. Wendy enjoyed taking control of their lovemaking. She could make Jonah feel good all on her own, she could watch his beautiful facial expressions and admire his pale, skinny chest. Imperfect in all the right ways.

"I love you, too," she moaned suddenly, as if for a moment she had no control of her own speech.

I see you in the dark,
I see you all the way.
I see you in the light,
I see you plain as day.

"I want to take you back!" he rasped in ecstasy. "I want to take over. You're mine." A sadistic, eerie chuckle followed this statement. Wendy melted.

They rearranged themselves so Jonah was back on top. He suckled on her neck, she tangled her fingers in his silky black hair. So much skin-on-skin, completely enveloped in one another, they couldn't bear it any longer.

I want to touch your face,
I want to touch your soul,
I want to wear your face,
I want to burn your soul!

Everything began to fall into place. Jonah sped up the tempo of his movements as they grow closer and closer. Allegretto, allegro, vivace, presto―finally, prestissimo. Their inner metronomes collapsed under the pressure; the moment was just around the corner.

Jonah gritted his teeth and his face twisted into an intense portrait of ecstasy. He cried out dramatically as a rush of magnificent warmth filled her. This both fascinated and pleased her―there was his orgasm, his ghostly orgasm, so perfect and human. He panted and held on long enough to bring her to her crisis as well. She saw sparks, beautiful pink sparks…

And they faded, they faded…

The lovers flopped back down on the bed, huffing and panting, and snuggled next to each other. The cuddles did not last long, however.

Jonah abruptly took in a short breath, like a pained little hiccup. He rolled out of bed and landed gruesomely on the hardwood floor. "My energy―it's gone―I'm sorry…" he sputtered. Wendy watched in sheer dismay as he squirmed on the floor. His skin blackened, blisters rose and burst like gory scarlet bubbles. She had to look away.

On the other side of the bed, Wendy searched the floor for Jonah's clothes. They'd disappeared. She glanced back where Jonah had been lying, convulsing, but he was gone, too. Then she heard inhuman gurgling in the far corner of the room. He'd purposely moved to place where he was more shadowed and silhouetted, his hideousness out of Wendy's sight for the most part. Still, she couldn't control her disgusted gags.

Watching―bring me to my knees!
Waiting―I am your disease!
Lover―set my symptom free!
Covered―you can't stop me!

He held up a dead hand and waved. His charred skin crunched as he moved his fingers.

She blinked, and he was gone.

This is the Virus, the Virus of Life.
This is the Virus, the Virus of Life.
This is the Virus, the Virus of Life!
…

The room became cold again. She shivered violently and goosebumps prickled her skin. But she didn't want to put her pajamas back on, neither did she want her blankets. She wanted Jonah to envelop her in warmth.

So she laid back down completely uncovered and trembled herself to sleep.

She dreamed in fire.