Nine
What the fuck? The insistent tapping woke me up from my reverie, in my mind I was currently preparing to jump across a wide stream, I could smell the deer on the other side, and my hind legs trembled with adrenaline as I got ready to jump. "Derek!" someone hissed through the door. Was I hearing ghosts too, is necromancy communicable? The alarm clock glowed bright, it was just before midnight. I rubbed my eyes; Simon was snoring softly so it wasn't another one of his pranks. I hesitated before padding to the door, unsure of what I expected to find.
I could hear someone humming gently, one of those maddening unforgettable pop tunes, maybe Talbot had some life-changing news to share or Van Dop decided that she was going to kill me in my sleep. "What is it?" I demanded in a loud whisper, before I had to check my night vision hadn't failed me. Liz stood nonchalantly by my door, in a tissue thin, arbitrarily buttoned white nightshirt that fell a few inches above her knees. And she was still wearing socks, black and yellow ankle socks to be precise. Her hair was messily loose, draping across her shoulders and luminous to my eyes. She smiled, relieved, and then blushed hotly.
I looked down realising that I only had my boxers on, a reminder of our previous meeting in the hall. I thought better of staying like this, not only would it make us both uncomfortable but my feet were freezing. "It doesn't matter," her cool hand stopping me on my back made me yelp.
"So what is it?" I asked more politely, massaging the knots near my neck, "If there's an intruder or something, grab a baseball bat and I'll meet you downstairs."
She laughed, "Very chivalrous of you Derek, besides with my "magic powers" I think I can take care of an intruder better than you can," I looked down uneasily, the scorn in her voice made it obvious that she had never considered the prospect of anything otherworldly to explain her quandary, although she readily accepted the poltergeist theory. Hypocrite. "Anyway," she tugged at the short hem of her nightshirt, possibly now aware of how little the both of us wore, "I didn't come for that, I came to . . . talk." She blinked her large eyes indecisively, pale face like a beacon in the darkness bathed only in the little light provided by the moon.
I shut the door behind me and walked a few steps away, quite surprised by how dead the house was, "About what?" I crossed my arms, so she would stop looking at anywhere but my face.
"Me," silence, she sighed, "I know you don't believe in poltergeists –"
"I think you'll find I'm far from the only one," I interrupted earning an eloquent glare from her.
"And I admit that it's quite farfetched, so I'm here to see if you have a better explanation," she stared up at me expectantly and that hurt. She actually believed I could fix it for her; poltergeist or not, for once I literally didn't have a clue. And it was not a nice feeling.
"I'm sorry, I don't . . .," I trailed off, the hope already drained from her face, now she just looked glum, unhappy and extremely worried. She was like a ticking time bomb, soon and much like me, she would get out of control and they would send her away.
"It's fine."
"Well, if that's all," I pusillanimously turned to leave, feeling responsible for her low spirits.
Once again her hand stopped me, this time it caught my collarbone, my temperature runs a little otter than normal, especially at night time, Liz's hand felt so cold I jumped and then tensed.
"You don't like being touched, do you?" curious now, she pressed harder, I fought the urge to bear my teeth.
"Not especially," I murmured, "It's more like I don't like being taken by surprise."
"Oh, sorry," her hand remained, "You've been here quite a while haven't you?"
"You could say that."
"Aren't you scared?" her huge eyes locked with mine, afraid at my blank expression she elucidated, "Don't you wonder if you'll ever get back, to your home, your family, your friends . . . your Dad. You've been here longer than I have and I am freaking out"
"Me being here is no great lost," I deflected the question, my gaze skittering around the room, avoiding the weight of her look. Whatever answer she wanted I sure wasn't going to give it to her.
"Sometimes I wonder if anyone really realises I've gone, if they've forgotten I existed. No one's come to visit me," a sob built up in her chest, "If they move me, how will they know I'm gone."
"Talbot will inform you parents."
She giggled darkly, "She'll have a lot of fun trying," a few lone tears trickled down her face. She looked disheartened, despite the mirth glittering in her irises. Always a happy blue, no matter her mood. Unconsciously, she leant into my chest, my crossed arms forming a barrier, reluctantly I allowed them to drop, she just wanted a hug. Her lips pressed suddenly and lightly against mine and I jerked.
"Fuck," I hissed as my head contacted with the hallway's ridiculous lampshade. I rubbed my sore head, "What the fuck was that?" I stared her down, surprise etched into every contour of her glowing visage. My eyes had expanded to twice their size; patently she hadn't heard me say that I didn't like to be taken by surprise.
"Sorry," she didn't look particularly remorseful, her cheeks were still hot and her eyes were roaming lustfully, transfixed by my abdominal muscles. Had she never seen a six pack before? I pressed against my temples calming myself down. She was just upset, scared, a little horny, I contemplated calling Simon, he seemed the more likely choice, but all he spoke about was Chloe. "Sorry," she muttered again, fisting her hem, revealing more of her slender thighs.
My eyes flickered top her mouth, soft, shapely lips the colour of strawberries, I couldn't recall what they felt like, the shock had been too great. She rested her head against my chest, having to tiptoe, so I could tuck it under my chin. Her hair smelt of grapefruit, smooth skin tickling mine, it felt nice, she pressed her lips against my shoulder. Still feels nice and then moved slowly again towards my mouth. They met and moved in unison, she tasted like cinnamon, her lips parted and the kiss turned more forceful. Was this a dream? I don't know why I would dream about kissing Liz but . . . this couldn't be real. Her fingers lightly scraped my stomach, one hand stroking my back; she turned so she was resting against the wall and eagerly bit my shoulder. That fucking hurt.
"You taste so good," but I could forgive her, she tasted better than peanut butter which might not sound like much but believe me it means a lot. Her nose skimmed my neck as she hooked her long legs around my waist. "I don't want to leave," she whispered on repeat, slowly, seductively she unbuttoned the first five buttons of her irregularly fastened shirt. No bra. I kissed down her neck, nervous and excited at the same time, heart pumping like in my dream, like I was being chased. So pliable . . . she felt like a memory foam mattress, her hands tugged at my hair nearly ripping it from my scalp and I paused. What if she was supernatural too, as legend had it powers hit full force at puberty and this often resulted in hormones running riot and Liz was very hormonal. "D-Derek, stop teasing me." I sniggered, the very idea was ludicrous, I am a firm believer in taking al opportunities presented to you. Hence me resuming my attentions, I cupped her breast laving attention on the one, her legs tightened around me and my shaft twitched in response. Her ski was so peachy; I smoothed my hands down her silky thighs, savouring her moans, and feeling less insecure, the dark hid all my imperfections as well as the scars and bite marks on my back.
If she'd seen them, her first thought would be abusive parents or with a little stretch of the imagination an aggressive girlfriend, not a prison for young "cubs". Regardless of how intimate we were coming I wasn't going to offer that information anytime soon. She yanked my head, bringing my lips back to hers, "Is Simon asleep?" she murmured into my mouth, her tongue deliciously stroking mine.
"Dead to the world," my breathing felt loud, her hand reached for the door presumably so we could lie on my bed. No way. I scouted for an empty room and mentally cursed Peter for still being here. There was always the broom closet.
"Romantic," Liz said as I shut the door behind me and almost smacked her in the face, that's how small it was, she held up a yellow bucket entitled vomit for m inspection, eyebrows raised. "At least it's private," she shrugged, dropping the bucket that fell louder than I would have liked; I winced as it clattered and then it was forgotten. Forgotten because Liz had wrapped her arms around me and was sort of grinding against my barely covered crotch. Dry humping, our tongues twisted together, hands roving, mine brushed the cotton material of her damp panties and she whimpered, nodding fervently. She guided my hand inside; if I thought I was hot she was steaming, my finger sought her clit and she moaned in time with each stroke. I nibbled the sensitive skin of her nape as she bit out, "Inside," I tested her entrance and slowly slid my middle finger inside where she clamped down on it, tight. "Oh my God," her dazed eyes glazed over as she rocked on it before orgasming. "Wow," she breathed, shaking strands out of her eyes and almost colliding with a broom. Her shirt still gaped open displaying her creamy breasts.
Her hands grabbed my hips and brought them towards her, "I can't have sex." Okay. "It's nothing personal or anything, it's just . . . I'm not ready." She bit her lip actually concerned whether or not she hurt my feelings, whereas I was still dealing with the newfound knowledge that she was a virgin and I had just made her cum.
"It's cool, you know," I rubbed a thick blonde lock between my thumb and forefinger, pretty, grinning widely, I'm not sure why I was so happy since there was still an ache in my lower body but she just looked . . . adorable, "I don't have any condoms either so . . . it probably wasn't going to happen anyway."
"Oh, right," she slapped her forehead, "Why didn't I think about that, to be honest I skipped all the Health classes at my old school. All they did is show gross pictures of STD's, it was nasty."
"Way to kill the mood," I joked, my thumb brushing her slightly pouty bottom lip; I wanted to kiss her again. She stumbled over an apology, still fumbling her words when our lips reconnected hungrily. There was no space between our bodies and she gyrated in a way that made me very happy. "We should stop," I said breathing deeply through my mouth, I could scent her arousal and although it was flattering to know what my kissing could ignite, it wasn't practical when the crotch area of my boxers tented firmly, definitely in search of attention.
"I don't want to," Liz grumbled, "This is nice," she demonstrated my rubbing my hard-on. "You're nice." She caught my lip between her teeth and teased me with her strokes. I let out a shaky breath unable to summon the will to make her stop, it felt too good, and I was so close. Closer. Dear sweet Jesus, I shuddered, fingers gripping the rough surface of the wall.
Ten minutes later, we were still in the closet, cramped and sitting awkwardly, Liz on my lap occasionally requiring my lips. We talked generally about family holidays, bad teachers, worst subjects – mine was swimming, every time some moron little boy splashed me thoughtlessly with overpowering chlorine tainted water I had to refrain from throwing him into the nearest wall. Not fair. Liz was falling asleep, "I can't leave," she said and I responded with the usual words of automatic reassurance.
"I hope you stay too," I whispered as her eyes finally closed shut. She looked so peaceful; carefully I picked her up and deposited her back in her room and on her bed. Chloe tossed and I reflexively fattened myself against the floor. Busted. Cautiously, I sat to see she had just turned over, I buttoned Liz's nightshirt just in case she woke up and freaked out, then covered her securely in her blanket. "Pretty."
