If he thought that she was beautiful before, she was radiant now; how her honeyed eyes glowed with lust while her little body tensed and shuddered beneath him, the way her skin pinked up, glistening in the firelight. This was it. He was addicted and she was the only drug that would do it for him anymore. Even the way she cried, cooed, and called out "Master" made the name grow on him. He hated the idea of that word being associated with him but if it involved her like this? He would gladly wear that mantle.

He nearly lost himself when she started demanding‒ she never begged‒ for him to make her cum. Repeatedly. Who was he to deny her? He was more than happy to help her explore her newfound sexual appetites.

After his first release of the night, Betelgeuse came back to himself enough to excitedly spend hours teasing, touching, licking, and biting. Lydia had seemed disappointed at first until she realized he didn't need time to recover. He would never get enough of her noises or her taste. When her voice started to become hoarse from overuse and she could barely keep her eyes open, even he had to concede that it was time to stop.

Collapsing next to her on the bed with a casual wave, he got rid of the mess they made of the bed. Even though he had plenty of opportunity to see her back throughout the night, he hadn't really been checking to make sure they hadn't ripped her stitches. That he never smelled or saw more blood, except from a few more overzealous nips, he was sure she was fine. Her robe had been lost early on and she was exhausted, lax and pliant in a way she never was as he checked her over one last time and convinced her to drink a glass of water before pulling her tight against his chest and falling asleep.

That night, Lydia proceeded to sleep better than she could ever recall her entire life. It wasn't just deep and dreamless, it was restful. Healing. When she awoke, long after Betelgeuse, the bed was empty and so was the rest of the room. She took her time getting up. There was no rush, and she was so intricately entangled in the layers of sheets and blankets, the luxurious fabric caressing her nude body deliciously.

Her back ached a little, but this was an improvement from previous days, and her neck and hips stung from where he got too excited. She didn't mind. Worst case scenario, he might lose control of himself and bite too hard, put an end to her the way she asked when she first came. But that would hurt him. She didn't want that.

Why didn't she want that?

He could so easily tire of her and sell her. Replace her. She was disposable and he was an immortal being. Lashes fluttering, she pulled herself to a sitting up position, slowly preparing to get out of bed and find him. After donning her robe, it wasn't difficult to find him in the kitchen, dressed in the stripes she had come to associate with him and business, and the kind of overly large, extravagant family style breakfasts she had become used to filling up every part of the table.

At his gesture when he noticed her, she hasted from the doorway to his lap, insecure thoughts comforted away with how he greeted her with a kiss to the cheek, ragged, less pointy claws than last night dragging through her sleep-mussed hair.

"Good morning." Her voice was rough from overuse and lots of sleep. "... are you going somewhere?"

Being awoken after a pleasantly long and eventful evening by the crippling pain of the summoning curse was not what Betelgeuse would have chosen. Calls from this side never hurt nearly as badly as the ones from the living world. Lydia's slip the night before was like a papercut compared to the loss of a limb. Hoping she would sleep until he got back, he let the summons pull him between worlds without a fight.

Once the situation was assessed and he had assured his newest clients he would be back soon with a plan to rid them of their problem, he was home. Thankfully, the girl was still passed out, and had somehow managed to get herself tangled in the bedding. She seemed comfortable enough that he left her to sleep but not before affectionately tucking a stray raven curl behind her ear so he could caress her soft cheek.

Breakfast was laid out on the table by the time he made it to the kitchen. It would stay warm and fresh until after Lydia had her fill then would disappear like every morning. While he waited for his little lover to waken and come down, he slid into his chair at the table and pulled his little black book from his pocket. Might as well start working out how to get rid of a bunch of crazy homeless squatters from the abandoned building his new clients were still stuck haunting for another fifty years.

He heard her heartbeat first, then the sound of bare feet on hardwood. Glancing up to find her peeking around the doorway, he crooked a finger and patted his thigh, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek as she slid her warm little body into his lap. With a twitch of his finger a plate was filled and set in front of her on the table, his stub of pencil and notebook disappearing back into his pocket. Arms were draped around her waist and his face was pressed into her riot of mussed curls.

"Mornin' Kitten… " He growled against her hair and took a deep unneeded breath so he could inhale her scent and hold it in his dead lungs until it stagnated, chin moving to rest on her shoulder while he watched her eat.

"Unfortunately. I got a call for a job. This one is either gonna be quick or take for-fuckin'-ever…"

She was done fighting him on eating. Done fighting him on a lot of things as of last night. This was one of the easier places to concede. The food he provided for her was always hot, fresh, and gourmet. There was always a little of something; fruit, vegetables, dairy, bread, and meat. Every other day, there would usually be some type of dessert or treat served after dinner, cookies or cake or pie.

She had no cause for concern of her own wellbeing that he was leaving for a time, there were plenty of groceries left from his last trip to the living realm, but frowned nonetheless at the news. It seemed like he had just gotten back from a long trip and here he was taking another. Granted, at the time, she wanted him exorcised a lot more than she did now.

"Okay…" she sighed, only allowing a fraction of her true disappointment to show through before continuing to eat her strawberry crepes, appetite stunted. He was still here and he would take issue if she didn't eat at least half her plate.

"Are you going to be anywhere near Connecticut?"

The question was out before she could stop herself. It was a stretch to assume he might be working anywhere near her old home, and it wasn't as if he would ever take her there. Besides, it had been years. There was no way her family was still there. It was a silly, misguided query, start to finish. Still.

"Or… New York?"

While she ate his attention shifted to pressing soft teasing kisses to her neck. A hand slipped under her robe to caress along her thigh.

"Hmmmm…? Nah, not this time. I'm in Russia, I think… guessin' from the language." The soft touches stilled, his lips lingering on her shoulder. "Why?"

He guessed that was where the slavers had snatched her from. Shifting uncomfortably, he pulled back from her neck. Time worked so differently on both sides. Lydia may have only been gone a few months or decades, there was no easy way to tell. If Lydia was asking she couldn't know that she was erased. Every photo, video, memory of her was just gone. He wasn't sure how he could tell her‒ or if he even should.

"Ya never told me… how old were ya when they took ya, Kitten?" Cool fingers started rubbing small comforting circles on her thigh. The arm around her waist tightened, his hand slipping inside her robe.

"Nine, I think. Maybe ten."

It was always "I think"s and "might"s and "maybe"s with Lydia, never any absolutes or definitelys. She hesitated before continuing, but deciding she had nothing to lose, went on. This wasn't information he could use against her.

"I've always seen ghosts, as long as I can remember."

The girl even had memories of little sprite-like orbs floating above her cot at night, making her giggle and laugh and get in trouble when she was supposed to be sleeping.

"They came to me. It's not like I went looking or bothered them. They had all these problems. Always wanted me to do something about it."

This came out unnecessarily defensive, guarded, as though she thought Betelgeuse might think this a good enough reason for her to be kidnapped and enslaved. The dead hated when mortals trifled in their affairs uninvited.

"My father was a real estate developer, so we moved around a lot. The last place was this really old house in Connecticut. My step-mother had… interesting tastes." The way her mouth squirmed showed Lydia's feelings on her stepmother's aesthetics all too well. "The ghosts there hated it. They'd been around since the place was built. I tried to get them to move again, I did‒ but‒ I was just a kid. Nobody listens to kids."

She'd stopped eating, fork tense in her fist like she might use it as a weapon.

"And then one night, when my father invited his boss over for dinner to show off our 'ghosts'‒ I got a picture of them‒ that's when…"

The memories were fuzzy. There was a flash and screaming and then she was just gone. Next thing she knew, she was surrounded by the dead in the afterlife, being poked and prodded, hit when she didn't listen, and seen strictly for her monetary value down to the last cent.

Nine maybe ten?! His temper flared. If he hadn't taken those slimey fucks apart down to their joints then fed them to sandworms he might have been inclined to turn them in to the Bureau‒ and he never snitched.

Fucking taking children, and one that had medium gifts? No wonder she got passed around like she did. The dead wouldnt've affect someone like Lydia in the same way they did ungifted breathers. Mediums were gifts. They were meant to be conduits, transits between the realms… not this. Not what they had tried to make her.

Lydia was gripping her fork so tightly her hand shook. Betelgeuse caught her wrist and extracted the piece of flatware, dropping it to the table. As she continued to speak he gathered her into his arms, so she was cradled against his chest.

"Fuckin' lowlife slaver scum…" He was rocking her gently, not sure at this point if it was for her comfort or to keep his temper in check.

"They took advantage of ya, kid."

Her tension released. Did they? Maybe they did. They definitely did. She had always thought she was just too stupid, too weak. That if she had been stronger or smarter, she could have escaped, or her parents would have listened to her and moved out. She knew, at least, that she didn't have any place talking to those ghosts and hated herself for letting them know she could hear them.

His rocking was nice. It always felt nice when he held her like this.

"It doesn't matter," she whispered after a moment, gaze lidded on the far wall, cheek pressed snug to his jacket. "I was going to exorcise you."

Her phrasing was deliberate. Past tense.

"... but I don't think you deserve it."

Experience had proven that she could say anything she wanted to him and he wouldn't hurt her, and so she said that. Sucking in her lips, she drew back from his embrace to look up at him like he was a curious thing she very much enjoyed to look at. Then, she inched up to press a soft kiss just under his jaw, and retrieved her fork back from him, ready to return to breakfast.

"Oh you were, huh?" His voice held a teasing lilt to it. "I'm glad t'hear that Sweetheart."

He gave her a little squeeze and a grin. When her soft lips pressed to his jaw, just above the rope scar, he let out a shuddering breath and relaxed around her. As she went back to her breakfast he returned to nuzzling her hair. Hands trailing over her small frame.

"Once ya finish breakfast I'm gonna hav'ta get back to work." Lips brushing her ear as he spoke, he checked the watches on his wrist. "Time works differently on the two sides o' the veil. If ya need me, say m'name three times. Leavin' the library unlocked this time… I'll be back as soon as I can."

Betelgeuse was still irritated, and now had a better reason than ever to come home quickly. Usually, he savored his trips topside but there was nothing up there more interesting than the little breather lurking his home, cute as can be and always on the hunt for trouble. He got paid per breather scared, not by the hour. He used to enjoy stretching his time topside out but now he couldn't stop thinking about her here.

Fuck.

Once he left and breakfast disappeared, Lydia immediately set about exploring for the library he mentioned. It didn't take long to find. It was beautiful. Just as dusty and musty as the rest of the house, she made short work of cleaning that‒ and everything else while she was at it. Then, she read. And read and read and read, spending the whole first two days of his absence only eating twice a day‒ eating distracted from reading‒ and falling asleep with her nose in a book.

The most fascinating works she found were his spellbooks. There was a ritual for everything; healing magics, pyromancy, dark arts she had never heard spoken of much less illustrated so plainly for someone like her to understand. Lydia had garnered a fair bit of magical learning in her time above, as well as below, but never so much as she did in Betelgeuse's library.

She had to test her new knowledge.

The mortal could think of no better challenge for herself than to break the wards of the best magician she had ever known; Betelgeuse. So, the rest of the week in between taking care of herself and the house, she meditated over his wards, using common items from the kitchen and around the house to set her intent. She started with the front door. By the end of the week, every ounce of his magic had been swept from every entrance and exit in the house.

It didn't even occur to her to try and leave.

When Betelgeuse returned and eventually found her, it was again with her nose stuck in a book‒ but in his bed this time. She fell asleep surrounded by open tomes, again having stolen one of his too-big button-ups and a pair of overlong socks.

The mood he returned home in wasn't great but he wasn't in a bad mood by any stretch. The Russian ghosts had been a nightmare to work with. There wasn't much of a language barrier, his Russian was passable, but they just didn't seem to understand what he was trying to get them to do.

Eventually, he lost his temper and cleared the building out. It took him an hour tops after days of trying to get the inhabitants to do it. He could have held out for a fatter paycheck but thoughts of Lydia consumed him, made him impatient and eager to return, check on her, make sure everything was just as he left it.

When his feet hit the floor of the living room he could instantly tell something wasn't right in the house. Reaching out to his wards, he found… nothing. Fuck! His mind jumped to Price Dickwad and panic began to set in… until he noticed the salt in the window sill. Then the spellbook on the couch. That little witch… he gave her access to his library and this is what she does with it? A wave of furious energy boiled off of him and then he felt her. Reaching down through the wave of power, he pulled himself to her.

At the sight of her, again having stolen one of his shirts to sleep in, all the irritation and panic he felt from the moment he arrived home washed away. She was still here. She was still his. In his bed. She was safe.

With a wave, the books were sent back to the library and he stripped himself of his jacket, shirt, and boots before joining her in the bed.

Lydia awoke as soon as she felt the bed dip, heart rate spiking only to calm once she saw who it was wrapping their arms around her. Thoughtlessly, she snuggled in under his chin, none the wiser she had done anything to upset the fragile balance.

"You're back," she murmured fondly, dreamily. "I think my stitches are ready to come out. They itch. I've been putting medicine on them everyday. Promise," she added the last as an afterthought. She did skip a meal or two, too engaged with his books, but he didn't have to know that.

His arm was heavy over her waist, making it easy to mold her back around the curve of his gut, his big hand rubbing circles on her tummy.

"You were gone for a long time."

"Felt like an eternity…" He agreed with her. Not having been able to properly see her under his baggy shirt, he could feel that she was filling out finally. His lips found her shoulder and he pulled her in tighter.

"I'll take a look at yer back in the mornin', I can have Ginger come take 'em out." He nuzzled into her, cherishing the way her heat soaked into him.

Large cool hands slipped up under her shirt, caressing. He was still annoyed over the wards but it would be an easy… no. He wasn't going to be the one to fix them. If Lydia had the knowledge and ability to pull them down, then she was more than capable of putting them back. Pleased with his plan, happy to have her in his arms again, he smiled against her hair as she relaxed into sleep.

Lydia got a head start, so she woke before him again, happy to bask in the weight of his embrace and the purring rumble of his snoring. She was laying fully on top of him while he lazed on his back, one of his arms a deadweight around her waist, the other resting on her bare bottom under his shirt.

Long fingers were dipping lazily between her thighs. If he were awake, he could feel how wet she was. Her legs squirmed, then her whole body, wriggling up his torso until she was in kissing distance. His molesting hand followed, and then she knew he was awake.

"You're faking," she accused with a smile, before diving in to plant one on his still-unmoving mouth, thighs spreading to straddle his gut.

He followed her up as she pulled back, a rumbling chuckle coming from him. Betelgeuse was awake as soon as her breathing and heart rate changed, unable to help himself. Her warm little body was splayed out against him, his hand already in the prime position for some fun.

"Just 'cause I hadn't opened my eyes doest mean I'm fakin', baby-girl."

He tugged at the front of the shirt she was wearing, making it disappear. Fingers catching her collar, he dragged her down gently to kiss her, tongue pressing inside at her easy acceptance. A cool rough palm found her fuller, plumper breast, squeezing, thumb rolling the soft bud of her nipple.

Her collar had never been used for anything like this before. The fire in her belly erupted when he hooked his fingers round it to pull her down and in place for a deep, searching kiss. Before she knew it, she was naked, all except her collar and the anklet. After the long night of passion they had before he left for work, she was feeling much more comfortable to explore him, let her hands run from his chest to his belly to down below his waist.

He was bigger than any she had seen or handled before, too large for her small hand to wrap around fully. His thumb and forefinger pinched sharply at the peak of her breast, and she responded in kind squeezing as hard as her tiny hand could around the base of his cock.

"We made a deal," she gasped against his mouth when she had breath to. "I haven't been keeping count… but I think you have."

She blinked, lashes brushing his cheek, and pierced him through with her gaze once she caught his.

"That's not fair."

As her warm little hands trailed over his chest and stomach, a growling purr rolled up from his chest. When her little hand squeezed at him, her heat enfolding him, Betelgeuse let out a gasping hiss, body arching towards her. Her eyes were golden in the shadowy firelight of the bed room and he frowned trying to focus on what she was saying. He pushed himself up braced on one elbow, the other hand threading in her hair to keep her close enough to kiss.

"Whaddaya mean 'that's not fair'?"

She pouted, quite genuinely, and stroked up his length slowly until her palm was covering the fat, leaking head.

"I mean it's supposed to be 'tit for tat', like you said, but you're doing all the tat and I'm not doing enough tit."

The calloused hand on her breast squeezed and his brows waggled, saying nonverbally that he thought she was giving just enough tit, thank you very much.

"You've cum twice." She said this very matter-of-factly, looking him dead in the eye like they were negotiating a business deal. All the while, her little hand trailed up and down his cock, squeezing when she felt like it.

"I don't know how many times I've cum. What happens if I fall behind?"

"Well...babe…" Her strokes pulled a low groan from deep in his chest. "... I'm sure… ohhh goddamn… we can think o' somethin' yeah?"

Lydia's touch was driving him crazy. He could tell her exactly how many times she had cum, and that the deal was made to make her feel safe. He would honor it if she insisted but it wasn't at the forefront of his mind when he was trying to make her scream and writhe.

"I… fuuuuck… didn't think… it out that far… Sweets…" She had him panting. His finger caught her collar again and was pulling her closer to him, his long tongue flicking out to run along her lower lip. "We… we can find a… system, yeah?"

He didn't expect anything? Something for nothing? That was nonsensical according to Lydia's worldview, but ran in line with everything else she knew about him. Her lips parted to grant his seeking tongue entrance to her mouth without their lips touching. This was a common kissing technique of his that Lydia enjoyed quite a bit, eyes falling closed as she melted into it, leaning back against him until their lips joined again and he didn't need to tug on her collar anymore to keep her close.

His cock was leaking to the point her palm was slick as it slithered over him, but not as wet as she knew it could be to give him the most pleasure.

"Mmm‒" she hummed, squirming, avoiding his insistent kiss and making as if she meant to move down his body. "Just a minute…"

When she pulled back from the kiss he let her go, head falling back against the pillows, his body tense trying to focus on what she was doing. Her scent and heartbeat washed over him in a slow heated wave.

He hadn't really worked out all the details to their deal. He only threw it together as a safety net for her. Normally, for something like that he would have drawn up a contract and gone over the finer points, the works. Keeping track of how many orgasms she'd had wasn't even about the deal, it was about making sure she was enjoying their time together. Now, she was worried over falling behind.

He snorted to himself and leaned up on his elbows to watch her. Lydia had quick work of his belt and slacks, and he pushed them down low on his hips giving her access. Her little hands, slick and smoothing over him, were gentle and hesitant, but simultaneously sure of themselves and the pleasure they wanted to dole out. When her pink little tongue darted across the tip of his cock he fell back again, a groan escaping him.

Lydia had little experience here, just enough to know not to use her teeth and to always be moving, sucking, using her hands to stimulate what she couldn't with her mouth. With motivation to keep up with him propelling her, she took to sucking him off with ease. He didn't scare her. There was no reason to tense or flinch or gag.

Instead, she knelt between his parted thighs and went right to work, gleaming golden gaze flickering up to him every other minute to gauge his happiness. With time and patience, she was able to get a little over half of him down her throat, puffy swollen lips sealed tight around his thick girth while she massaged whatever loose rivulets of saliva leaked down from where she was working him with her mouth.

One of his big hands was heavy on top of her head, fisting in her hair and guiding her along and she allowed it, following every cue he gave her from speed to depth. Their intense eye contact eventually broke when she had to really concentrate on breathing, his hips pumping against her mouth with dedication, growls vibrating from his chest so deep she could feel them in his cock.

The sight of her small mouth trying to take him in might have been somewhat comical if it hadn't felt so fucking good. For not having much experience with this kind of thing she could have surprised him. Lydia was able to take far more of him into her mouth than expected, yet still was able to move and suck and wring gasping moans from him.

His hand found her hair, fingers fisting in the sleep mussed curls, showing her how to set a rhythm, hips joining her efforts. Betelgeuse was struggling to keep himself from going too soon. He had been uncomfortably hard around her ever since she got well enough to be up and moving around. Even having gotten off a couple times that first night, it hardly took a thought about her and he was ready for her again. To be in her mouth now, especially when this was something he had been avoiding after what she told him about her prior masters, was heaven and only made him wonder what it would be like to bed her properly.

He was nearing the point where he couldn't hold off any longer. Growling softly as their bodies rocked together, his own rhythm started to get rough, the hand on her head pressing her down firmly. Her tongue fluctuated around his girth and he was gasping, pumping ribbons of chilly seed into her warm waiting mouth.

Lydia knew what to expect here. He was much nicer about it than previous Masters had been, barely even pulling her hair when he lost himself down her throat. It was easy to hold onto his hips, swallow, and let him take pleasure from her, kindly as he did. He was muttering sweet nothings in the aftermath, running claws through her hair and singing her praises as she pressed kisses to his sucked-dry half-flaccid length.

That was now three to her dozen-something. Jaw aching a bit, she climbed back up to rest on his chest until she was in kissing distance again, his manhood sandwiched between their bellies.

"I liked that," she admitted with an impish smile, speaking the truth. "Thank you for being so nice to me, Master."

As many times as he had wrung euphoric melodies from her mouth, his title came out like butter on her tongue, hot and easy.

"Mmmmm I did too…" Betelgeuse pressed a soft kiss to her lips, groaning softly as she called him master again. "Always… Kitten… I think I really am startin' t'like that name from yer mouth."

Pulling her farther up and rolling them over, he was kissing down her neck until he once again found her breasts. His cool tongue lathed over her plump peak, toying with the warm hard bud of the nipple.

She smiled deeper conspiratorially as he voiced his pleasure at her calling him by the name. There was something comforting about it for Lydia that she had trouble putting to words. For much of her life, it had been a title that meant hurt and pain and fear and sorrow. Now, it meant pleasure. That he was so accepting of her bedroom inclinations emboldened her, made her feel more confident and beautiful when he took charge again to roll her under him.

"Master," she giggled, half-heartedly fighting off his amorous advances, not making any leeway and not trying that hard to, "I'll never catch up!"

Generously muscled biceps caged her in from either side as she laughed and writhed, her chest bouncing and scratching against his stubble.

"Never catch up, hmmm?" His mouth still pressed to her warm flushing skin. Giving her one last nip he pushed up and cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Well, I suppose I shouldn't add to your deficit… speakin' o' things we shouldn't do…" Abruptly, he pulled her onto his lap before flipping her over and caressing her naked backside. "What possessed ya t'take down all the wards around the house…?"

"Those ain't just up t'keep ya in…" He squeezed her ass cheek tightly, drumming his fingers against her. "...it's t'keep things, like the Prince, out."

It wasn't a hard slap. But it was quick and solid and made a good deal of noise. Two more followed in quick succession. Fingers laced into her hair, tilting her head up so he could look into her face, his own gravely serious.

"You, Lydia, will be the one to put them back."

Her heart rate spiked when he manhandled her so suddenly, a frightful yelp escaping as she found herself strewn across his lap. Cheek pressed to the mussed sheets, she looked back at him in confusion, distressed by the change.

"What possessed ya t'take down all the wards around the house…?"

Oh. She did do that, didn't she? She vaguely remembered being told not to mess with them but that was back when she didn't care what he did or didn't want her to do. The lines were blurred now. At the first smack, she cried out mournfully, feelings more hurt than she was physically. The second two went by quickly and were much faster and less hurtful. Once it was over, she was sniffling, betrayed honey eyes locked on him when he forced her to look.

"You, Lydia, will be the one to put them back up."

"Fine," she accepted that punishment willingly at least, but was not quite ready to bite the dust yet. "I'll do it… and they'll be stronger than yours, too."