He hoped it felt "good"? Platinum brows furrowed. As he pressed enthusiastic kisses to her worn body, she caught one of his roaming hands and his attention, taking pains to meet his gaze as best she could with meaningful intensity.

"It was exquisite."

In truth, she was frustrated with herself for not being able to handle more of him. After a certain point, she was just too sensitive and he was so much to take. She needed a break, if only for a minute or two. Thankful for his calm now, coddled and cuddled, she kept hold of the hand of his she caught and held it close to her face, analyzing the details now that she had an opportunity to do so.

His flesh was unlike any she had ever seen before, dead or alive. For the most part, the ghosts Lydia dallied with in the past were pedestrian and identical to their living selves in every way. All that kept them apart from other people was that she was the only one who could almost see them‒ and unlike the living, the dead were usually kind to her.

There was no mistaking that Betelgeuse was dead as a doornail. Fascinated, she gently unbent his knuckles one by one, placed impulsive kisses on the pads of each finger, and scrutinized.

"Was that all ya' wanted to get done today, Beautiful? Or were ya' still wantin' to set up yer darkroom?"

Lydia was flushing again, tongue heavy and clumsy in her mouth. He knew she didn't plan this. Didn't he? This kind of teasing wasn't anything she was prepared for. None of this was. She was a little girl playing heavy games with a man, and he played dirty. Now that this world had been opened to her, how was she expected to think about anything else? Instead of responding to his confusing questions, loathe to accidentally give the wrong answer, she asked some of her own.

"Why do you have claws?" There wasn't any suspicion or judgment, or anything nasty really in her tone. "I've been talking to ghosts my whole life and I've never met anyone like you."

They gravitated to her. They never seemed to want more than an ear to listen, a friendly voice to give advice if desired. None had ever asked for as much as this one had. To balm the forwardness of her question, she turned his hand back over, sliding their fingers to match and measure how much longer his were before giving yet another compliment.

"I like your ring."

Even though they had just spent this intimate time together, he felt a little sheepish as she examined his hands. It was easy to forget that she couldn't see him like he saw her. She paid special attention to his fingernails, her hands looking so small in comparison. Her skin glowed next to his, somehow more pale than his deathly pallow even with its healthy pink flush, though the bruised bits did help to even the score.

"Why do you have claws?"

That made him chuckle as he conjured up a cigarette, taking a long drag then offering it to her.

"Guess I never thought of 'em as claws." He changed the hand she was holding into something monstrous with really big vicious talons, then spoke around his cigarette, "would ya rather I had these claws?" He let out a wheezy laugh and let his hand go back to normal.

"I've been dead a long time, babes. S'just how I am I guess. As far as I remember've been the way I am now," he sniffed. When he shifted her a little in his lap she could feel his hard length pressed against her ass.

"I like your ring,"

He blew a long stream of smoke over her head and reached to give the ring a tug, once off his finger he pressed the cool silver into her palm.

She gasped in surprised delight when his hand morphed so suddenly, only staying that way for a moment or so to let the quick gag land before changing back. No, he was nothing like the ghosts she met before. The skillful way he managed to deflect giving her a real answer was lost on Lydia, especially as he proceeded to shift her just so in that cozy plush blanket with his strong arms, positioning her just right.

Without a word, he then gave over his ring for her inspection, freeing his hand and granting her another trinket to play with in the process. It was a unique piece of jewelry once she got a good look at it; an ouroboros with eyes made of rubies. Deadly-voo. As interesting as the ring was, what he had to show her beneath the blanket demanded more of her attention.

The cigarette was a welcome distraction. So many baser instincts were telling her to run, to get out of this situation as fast as she could‒ but then other more seductive and reasonable seeming impulses insisted that he was ultimately harmless. The destruction of her parents' things was just an act of showing out, like a misbehaved puppy.

He couldn't ever hurt her or anyone else. Wouldn't.

Clinging to that thought, Lydia relaxed atop him, took her first drag of a cigarette ever, and blew out the smoke smooth as a jazz musician. Ignorant of the implications of what she was doing and what that specific finger meant, she dropped the overly large ring onto the most convenient digit at her disposal while a cigarette was held between the middle and index and her pinky was comically too small.

Her little hand curled into a fist, confident she wouldn't lose it, and she turned her cheek to press against his strange striped suit. This little bit of happiness wasn't bound to last. She should enjoy what she could.

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" Still, doubt reared its head. "Are you just saying that…? Only my Mama's ever called me beautiful… please don't say it if you don't think it…"

He gave her a little squeeze, pleased that the ring had made her so happy. Tapping it with his finger, it shrunk down to fit snugly on her finger. Letting the smoke from his cigarette curl out of his nose, he dipped his hand inside the blanket, fingertips brushing along her thigh.

"O' course I think yer beautiful. Wouldn'ta said it if I didn't mean it, baby doll." He settled further into the chair his hand slowly moving up down her thigh "Can't believe that harpy would ever say anythin' nice. Fuck, her voice is irritatin'."

He flicked his spent cigarette away and brushed her hair to the side before he nipped at the soft skin along her neck. Making a low growling noise in his chest he shifted in the seat again pressing against her backside.

Lydia stiffened. First, at the bold insult to her mother, and then in revulsion when she realized Betelgeuse didn't know anything about her mother. He was talking about Delia. That misconception needed to be corrected immediately.

"That woman," her words dripped with disdain, more venomous than Betelgeuse had ever heard from the gentle girl, "is not my mother."

Satisfied now that he wasn't going to go on believing such nonsense, she returned to the moment. Boldly, she turned around in his arms until his clothed erection was on her belly and his hands were on her ass. Chest to chest, she shimmied up like this until her arms could reach around his neck and her soft, kiss-swollen lips could land on sweet and lush on his. He seemed calmer now, and the girl was feeling safe to experiment.

Gently he returned her soft kiss, kneading his hands into her cheeks pulling her forward against his chest harder, hips giving an involuntary buck. Her movements pulled another throaty growl from him. Remembering how easily she'd spooked earlier he decided to let her take the lead, enjoying the fact that she initiated this kiss. Her little arms around his neck felt like heaven.

"Fuck babes," he ground into her again, "ya feel so good."

As he pressed his lips to hers, he also dug his nails into the soft round flesh of her butt, not quite hard enough to break the skin. He dragged his hands down to her thighs to pull her legs to straddle his lap, again moving up and against her.

After he spread her legs to seat her on him properly, Lydia followed his lead and pulled the blanket out from between them to fall abandoned to the floor. Now if anyone had the mind to go looking for her and break down the locked attic door, they would find her bare assed and grinding on a sneering demon. As they continued with slow, searing kisses, their starkly opposing temperatures meeting in an addictive blend, Lydia learned how to move properly.

Like most everything she did, she took to this with natural-born skill and ability. Her tongue learned to copy his and perform maneuvers that he only learned from practiced French whores in the 1700s. Uniquely in tune to her body in a way that not many individuals were, she moved is if in a dance, sweetly curved milky hips swaying over him in perfect sync with her massaging lips and curling tongue.

It only took minutes for her to turn into this bold, prime thing. Just a little kissing and some warm encouragement. Hungry for more already, even as her hesitant heart thrummed persistently in her chest with reservations, she broke off an intense liplock to sit up straight‒ hips never breaking their graceful pace‒ to peel her blouse over her head, leaving her naked. Now she would be able to feel more.

"I've never felt so good," she husked in his ear after collapsing back against him. She was already feeling out for his tie and shirt buttons but struggled, unsure how to undo it.

"Babes, jus' pop the buttons, grab both sides n' jus' jerk‒"

He helped guide her hands to remove the tie, his touch roaming up her chest after to palm her breasts and pluck at her nipples. As she did what was asked, he leaned into her and nipped at her lower lip, the buttons flying after she gave a good tug. She smelled so good, her little body so warm pressed against him‒ and she was wet again. He groaned against her lips, trying his best to not lose control again... but it was slipping.

His eyes glowing in the dimness of the attic as she moved against him. His hands shook with the effort to reign himself in as he pulled her closer, rolling one of her pale peaks with his tongue. Boldly, he bit around her nipple hard enough to leave a perfect imprint of his teeth, simultaneously his hand moving down to brush her still swollen pearl.

He did think she was beautiful. More than that, he thought she was sexy. If he thought so, then it must have been true. Lydia ripped the buttons on his shirt like the heroine in a cheap porno mag at his direction, a rush of adrenaline shooting through her at the plink of each one as they flew about.

She started to grind harder, needing more pressure against that secret spot he kept paying special attention to. How had she never gotten anything accomplished with that? Now that she knew it was there and what it was capable of, it would be getting a lot more attention from her. His chest was bare now and she reveled in splaying both hands flat against it, gasping pleasantly at the presence of hair there even coarser and more grittily textured than that on his head. It wasn't a surprise to find it, it was just such a new sensation, just like all of this.

As quickly as she learned, and as fluidly as she was assisting him in climbing toward that peak together, every little touch and scratch and bite still made her cry out. He played with the limits of her hypersensitivity recklessly, pushing so far she sometimes would release a tiny involuntary shriek and push back as though she might actually get away.

"Please," she begged prettily in a bell-like, purely feminine voice that was everything his wasn't. "Please touch me."

He already was, but she was desperate, near hyperventilating in the heightened state of arousal he stimulated her to.

"More… Don't stop…"

Barely an hour ago this pale little slip of a girl told him she was scared, and that she'd never done any of this before. Now she was riding his lap and begging for more. He was more than ready to comply and fuck her senseless. He wanted to bend her over the lounge and grab a handful of her silky blonde locks and just fuck her until she couldn't stay awake.

But this was to be her first time. She was so beautiful and sweet, so delicate, so perfect. It wouldn't do to take her innocence here in the attic. She deserved to have her first time be in a bed, much better than a quick fuck in a dirty old attic.

She deserved to not get fucked by you‒ crawled around unheeded at the back of his rotten brain.

Closing his eyes, he leaned his face back from where he had been ravishing her neck, moving away from the little bundle of nerves he was playing with. He had to get some control and get her down to her bed.

"Fuck, baby... hey, slow down a second," he tried to slow his own movements, almost lifting her off his lap in the process. "Ya… ya don't wanna do this up here, right? Let's move down to yer bedroom."

Lydia didn't understand why all that was necessary. She was perfectly comfortable right where they were, but if he wanted a bed, he could have a bed. Still…

"I'm naked," she whispered in scandal as if realizing it for the first time. If she hadn't heard the door distinctly click locked when he swept her into his arms after their dance, she would have had a more natural fear of her parents interrupting by accident. If they were spending any extra time going out of their way to look for her, it would certainly have to be a fluke.

Currently, every item of clothing Lydia had put on post-shower was tossed around the attic randomly, black swathes of fabric here and there.

"I can't walk through the house like this. Help me find my clothes?"

"I'm naked."

The way she said it made him laugh, like it was a secret. Like he wasn't very aware of exactly how naked she was.

"Honey, ya don't need yer clothes," he pulled her into a hungry kiss as he melted them through the floor, letting it off as they landed among her blankets and pillows. Stretching out below her on the bed, his touch resumed traveling over her small breasts, cupping and squeezing.

"Innit this better babes?" His hips bucked up against her again.

Lydia wasn't sure what was going on or how it happened, but suddenly they were falling together, right through the furniture and flooring onto the plush cushioning of her bed. Blinking in disorientation, she clung to him for purchase even as he recovered immediately.

This was better. The armchair in the attic was narrow, but Lydia had a King size bed. She absolutely drowned in it when she was sleeping there, but she found she had fewer accidents if there was less surface area on the floor and more cushioning for her to trip and fall into. She was especially grateful for it now.

The ample space allowed her knees to spread wider on either side of his hips, thighs stretched taut with their groins pressed and grinding together. Something about being in her own bedroom, straddled atop this powerful ghost wiped away her inhibitions even further. She would show them all. So they thought she was a freak, did they? She would show them freak.

"Innit this better babes?"

"Yess," she let out a contented hiss then used tiny, dainty hands to push and pin him down by his chest in a sudden fiery show of dominance. It was out of character, but she was riding his emotions, feeling him out like the empath she was. Cheeks flush and a determined fire in her unfocused gaze, she sat upright while keeping him forced down, silvery hair flying with the motion. Once it settled, she appeared as a conqueror on horseback come to upset the balance of society.

"I want you to do whatever you want to do to me."

He would ruin her, surely, and she would cherish every moment of it.

When he moved them, it gave him just a little more control. He knew he could hold out just a little longer and wouldn't break her. That was until she pinned him to the bed and moved on top of him like she owned him. The lusty fire that burned in her soft almost silvery eyes and the way her hair flowed around them made him feel like he had found his way into a faery circle. She was almost too beautiful to be real and she was his.

"I want you to do whatever you want to do to me."

Groaning, he grabbed her hips and moved her back enough that he could get access to his belt and slacks. He made quick work of the belt buckle and struggled to get his fly down single-handedly. His other had moved back to her core, a thick thumb strumming the delicate bundle of nerves. Finally, he got his pants open and slipped himself out in a smooth practiced motion.

At the sensation of a strangely silky, rigid hunk of flesh jutting up and against her belly, smearing a line of pre as it made contact, Lydia's breath hitched. He was huge. A significant chunk of that sizzling confidence faded as curious little hands sought it out and smoothed along the ridges. They couldn't wrap around him all the way, like a can of soda but taller.

"Oh, wow."

She didn't mean to say that out loud, but couldn't swallow the interjection. Could she really handle this? Him? Who did she think she was?

Determined to prove herself, but anxious all the same, her hands tightened and stroked up, drawing even more drops of moisture to bead at the fat tip. She used her thumb to smear them around, feel how sticky and slick it was. She had to taste it. Unthinkingly, her thumb was drawn to her mouth to be sucked clean. Salty, but not bad.

His impressive endowment shook her confidence but Lydia was a trooper and stuck to her guns, working hard to shed the image of the delicate disabled thing made of glass and paper that needed to be coddled and sheltered and protected lest she shatter to pieces. It only half-worked. With trembling hands, she stroked and squeezed, nervous teeth biting into her bottom lip almost hard enough to break skin.

"Is… is this good?"

Once he was finally released from his slacks, he settled his head back into her pillows enveloped in the feeling of freedom and her soft, testing touches.

"Oh, wow."

Oh, yes, oh fucking wow indeed. His eyes jerked open as she started to stroke, her hands so small compared to him. He rocked into her hands as he felt her delicate touch at his head, small grunts escaping him. He was nearly undone when he watched her suck her thumb clean of him.

"...is this good?"

"So fuckin' good," it was nothing more that a growl. The heady scent of her arousal mixed with the tiniest hint of fear, and that thin thread of control he had grasped onto so desperately snapped.

In an instant, he had her pinned to the bed, and when he ground down against her it was violent with none of the restraint that had been exhausted since the start of this. His sight had tunneled in on her, vision cast red. He knew his eyes were glowing and just gave over to the lust. Her arms were pinned above her head with one of his large hands. True claws pressed into her skin. His free hand reached up to grip around her throat as he rutted against her, not even enough control to try a slip inside her. When he pressed a violent kiss to her mouth, forcing his snake-like tongue inside, fangs cut her lips carelessly as he bit at them.

A surge of otherworldly power swept through the room, killing the candles and leaving a pair of predatory, glowing yellow eyes the only source of light in the vast dark. A surprised scream tried to erupt when he flipped them so suddenly but it was swallowed by his ravaging mouth. She couldn't move, couldn't see‒ excepting his terrifying gaze promising debauchery as it raked over her. She could barely even breathe through the brutal kissing as panic started to crescendo again, heart pounding and blood rushing through her ears.

There was a monster on top of her and his intentions were impossible to gauge. It hurt when he broke skin and tasted blood, but he didn't seem to notice the little tears swelling on the lid of her eyes, the way she whimpered and flinched back with his advances. Did she do something wrong? His lust was so toxic, she nearly felt punished.

"Beej," she whimpered painfully, wincing as his elongated fangs threatened to just rip out her throat entirely. She couldn't see them in the dark, couldn't see anything but his animalistic gaze, but they felt lethal. Even through all this fear, she still wanted him, couldn't bear the thought of pushing him away. He was already forgiven for every nip and cut and bruise. This was all so confusing in a way that Lydia didn't have the capacity to process.

All through the attack, his hips crushed her heavily down into the mattress, the grind on her clit treading the line of pain. The unforgiving grip around her neck tightened, making it difficult to choke out;

"You're… scaring… me…"

He reached his end, his release painting her torso. As he laid with her his tongue caressed her neck. When he found little pinpricks of blood left behind from his claws, he moaned against her neck, lapping them up until the flavor stopped coming. He was sated for now, but the smell of she and her terror mixing was just too good and he didn't want to leave the warm embrace of her body.

"You're...scaring...me…"

Her sad little voice cut through the fog of his mind like a knife. Instantly he could smell the sex, yes, and the fear… but also the blood and tears clinging to her cheeks. She had said he was scaring her. Sure, she had been scared around him but never because of anything he did to her. It felt like a spike had been stabbed through what was left of his heart.

In a rush he was off of her and had her cradled against his chest, shaking still-clawed hands checking the wounds. His thumb ran along her ruined lower lip. As he looked her over he noticed his sight wasn't quite right yet. He could still see the vapors of fear she exuded, which portions of perfect porcelain flesh had the most blood rushing through them at the moment.

"Babes, ya' okay?"

He softly brushed her sweaty hair back from where it stuck to her face, his words hissing around his fangs, gaze still glowing gold.

Lydia was decidedly not okay. All the warring emotions that had been driving her since they fell into each other's arms came to a head. Suddenly, she was crying and she couldn't put words as to why. His question went unanswered as she muffled an already quiet sob into the bared portion of his chest, the wiry hair there remaining a comfort.

So much of her hurt and they hadn't even had sex yet. It seemed like he was doing it on purpose‒ like he liked it. She would be lying if she said she didn't like some of it too, but she couldn't understand why what had happened occurred the way that it did. It was all too much, too soon, and she was shamed further to realize she was disappointing him.

Crying wasn't sexy. What the fuck was she even doing? Who did she think she was?! He was probably right. She was trying to seduce him. Now she had exactly what she wanted and was acting like a stupid spoiled broken little girl.

She didn't dare speak past a barely audible apology that didn't make any goddamn sense to the bewildered dead man. When she realized her belly was wet with something cold and sticky, her weeping intensified. What was that?! Did it come from him?! There was too much to process and Lydia was struggling to catch up.

"Fuck, don't… aw shit... don't cry, sweetheart."

He was trying to comfort her but was at a complete loss. Why was she crying so much? They'd had two rounds of great sex all things considered, so why was she this upset?! He did his best to soothe her, rocking her against his chest whispering sweet nothings.

She enjoyed when he was rough with her the first time. Granted this time had been a little more extreme… he hadn't lost control like that in a very very long time. To be fair, he hadn't had a good fuck in a very long time either. Maybe she wasn't a fan of the blood? As he looked her over it dawned on his just how abused her poor little body was. There was barely any unmarked skin left. At first, it made him proud that he'd marked her but now that he stopped to think about it...

Oh, fuckin' hell.

He was her first experience and he had obviously fucked that up judging by how hard she was crying, her little body shaking. His chest was tight. There was a throbbing ache present not quite like when he was summoned but close.

"Oh, baby girl, please it's okay," he could feel himself shifting back to normal. The monster found pleasure in her fear happily enough but was a fickle being. Where he found only contentment before he now felt distinctly not content. He didn't want her crying and upset a moment longer. This wasn't something he could just fix for her like he did with the lights or moving furniture.

It sounded like she tried to say something but then she just started crying harder. Just to make sure, he checked her over again to see that she wasn't hurt badly somewhere but he didn't find an injury that would cause her to cry like this.

"Lyds, please, what can I do, what's wrong?"

At the desperation in his tone, the way he was begging for her so genuine and sweet and sorry, Lydia found courage to unbury from where she was hiding against him. The candles were aglow once more. His eyes weren't. The little aches and pains from where he went at her so fiercely were already beginning to heal with his honeyed way of speaking to her.

"I‒ I‒ I'm s‒ sorry..." She stuttered horribly for him, yanking at long-dead heartstrings wrapped around all ten of her pale digits‒ not that either of them were aware of this. "You don't‒ you don't have to stop."

Maybe this could be salvaged. She could still be a right and proper girl and learn how to enjoy sex the way the rest of them got to. It spoke to her innocence that she clearly didn't realize he had already finished.

"I'll stop crying." In her desperation to calm herself and become desirable again in his eyes, her stuttering even seemed to be getting better. "I just hurt... and I didn't‒ didn't think it would be like that."

More than physical pain brought on this torrent of tears, but Lydia didn't have the emotional intelligence to vocalize this for him.

"Can we just... go back? Pretend I didn't do this? I won't cry anymore, I promise."

He sat there and held her and was at a complete loss.

"Lyds, you didn't do nothin' wrong." He kissed her forehead and rocked her a little more on his lap. "Whaddya mean we don't hav'ta stop?" He leaned back far enough to grip her chin and make her look up at him.

"What hurt, sweets?"

He started pawing at her limbs and torso again to triple check that there wasn't anything serious. He didn't intend to make her hurt. That made him feel...bad? Guilty? Is that what he was feeling? Guilt? Fuck. This was not what he intended when he kissed her upstairs. This wasn't what he intended in engaging with her at all. He knew his control was rocky at best and still he pushed on. They could have just stopped after he treated her upstairs but now he had acted like a monster. To be fair, he was a monster… but she didn't deserve that. Not his beautiful little faerie queen.

"Can we just... go back? Pretend I didn't do this? I won't cry anymore, I promise."

"Go back ta what?" He was honestly very perplexed, "cryin' or not, babes, we were done…"

Realizing with more than a little amusement and pride that she was covered in his jizz, he stood with her and started to head for the bathroom.

"Let's get ya' cleaned up baby girl."