Flashback Passionate Possession

[Gomer Caitiff]

The twenty-third of spring, 511 AV

Running his hand through his hair for the hundredth time, Gomer scowled across the room at the swirling mist of ghost who seemed to have nothing better to do than to make him uncomfortable. "Go on, take a good look. You'll not find a better specimen of a man alive or dead than right in front of you." He grinned wide, moving his hips side to side letting the subject of his words dangle in a wholly salacious solicitation of his attention.

"Ionu's arse feathers, but that thing away." His grumbling tone had long since lost its impact, weary as he was from the various flaunting displays of the obnoxious young man who purportedly had been drowned to death at the hand of his lover he'd more or less become accustomed to his state of spectral undress.

Without missing a beat, the man casually scratched at himself, the motion purely for Gomer's benefit as a ghost had no need to itch - or for that matter, be naked at all in the first place. "Let me pop inside of you, get a good wank off, and I'll be out of your hair." A lascivious grin played wickedly about his lips and his eyes flickered beneath the suggestive curve of his once blonde brows. "That is, if you still even want me to leave."

With a heavy sigh, Gomer pushed himself and his chair back from the desk where he'd been trying, unsuccessfully, to finish his written assignment that Marie had given him earlier that day. Leveling his gaze with the older boy, he evaluated the proposition.

The specter's given name was Piers - whatever family name had followed had since been forgotten by anyone who might have been able to remember. He was a solidly built young man of an indiscriminate age, though he seemed on the younger side. Disrobed as he was, his body was muscled in the fashion of a physical laborer with small scars to match mistakes he'd undoubtedly made whilst alive. His full head of thick, blonde hair was messily cut, by his own hand no doubt, and though his face was un-bearded his jaw was firm and square even without it. What stood out most about him was his easy, searching grin and piercing grey eyes. He had the tenacity of the abstract quality itself, and it clearly showed in the fire that still burned in his gaze even after having been put to death.

"Without even needing to explain to you how violating it would be, I would want - and do still want - you to go away." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "If I... I don't know. Make you some soulmist to eat, will you leave me alone?" There was a tired desperation in his voice, but Piers seemed not to notice - or care.

"Just one wank, huh? I've been dead gods only know how long. Died with it like this, you know." Had the ghost possessed blood, it would have rushed all to a particular spot, and Gomer's own cheeks flushed an embarrassed red.

"Yes, well, that is... unfortunate." Rubbing his eyes, he tried to avoid thinking about the display in front of him. Piers was a passing ward - of sorts - that Everard had picked up. Though he had not said so directly, Gomer had long since picked up on the insinuation his cousin imagined he fancied men, as they had recently spoken about the young women of whom they were mutually acquainted with - and it seemed he had taken Gomer's lack of interest as a subtle implication of his attentions elsewhere.

He still hadn't been able to decide if what Everard had done had been a kindness or a cruel joke, but with the now erect Piers floating in the air, arms folded behind his head and legs splayed, monologuing about the "ache of pleasure" regarding his loins, Gomer supposed it didn't matter. He wanted the ghost gone, as already he'd begun to very seriously wonder if he was indeed not game for women in the same way as his cousin. "If I agree-" He started, but was immediately interrupted.

"Oh gods, I'll leave you alone, I swear." There was nothing overly deceptive about the manner in which Piers spoke, but Gomer had grown up with both spirits and spiritists alike. If there was one thing the living and dead seemed to have in common no matter the situation, it was the act of lying.

Unconvinced, he held up a hand, his face still flushed but voice carrying with it more authority than before. "Again. If I agree, you must swear to leave me alone the moment we're... finished." Some of the wind was lost as he fumbled the final word, unsure of how to eloquently phrase it.

"The moment of? No, no. If you want me gone, and I swear I will, right back to that Everard fellow, I need a good... five chimes to revel. It always felt best to lie back and listen to my heart-"

Finding it difficult to remain in control of his own hormones, Gomer sharply interrupted the other boy. "Yes, well, it will be my heart, so-"

Crossing his arms and shaking his head, Piers' voice carried with it an unprecedented finality, even with the ridiculous terms. "A good wank and three chimes after, final offer. And, if you want me to stick around after, I will. That bit's free."

[Gomer Caitiff]

The twenty-third of spring, 511 AV

All his life, Gomer had been lectured about how to deal with ghosts, how to negotiate with them, how to regard them as something not quite a person but more than animals, yet he had always found it difficult to imagine them as anything but the same as they were when they were alive. Certainly there were dangerous ghosts, but there were dangerous people as well. He'd never quite been able to grasp why ghosts were so different from the living, and even with the near obsessive pressure of Piers' sexual barrage, it wasn't as if he couldn't empathize with the older boy. Urges were urges.

These things aside, he still frowned at the utter failure of a spiritist he'd turned out to be. While Godric and Everard had already indentured several specters into their service and Einar having a particularly loyal singular spirit, he'd managed to find himself on the wrong end of the negotiation table with a long since murdered nymphomanic. The discrepancy between him and the others was not lost on him. "And if I refuse?" He put little fervor in his voice, telling himself he might as well get it over with - though he found his heart had already begun to beat with some excitement.

"Two things:" Piers held up two fingers to further illustrate, his voice playfully serious. "The first? You'll miss out on the best wank of your life. The second, I'll haunt you till you're too tired to keep me out."

Both seemed a solid bluff, but Gomer had no doubt Piers would spend at least the rest of the day, if not longer, pestering him before Everard returned from Ionu only knew were to fetch him. With a sigh, Gomer rolled his eyes, displaying reluctance but wholly uncertain how he actually felt about the arrangement now that it was in the process of being made. "Nothing... really strange, please. I'm competent enough to be a prison, if that's what you want."

Crossing a small "x" over his chest where his heart would have been, Piers solemnly nodded. "I swear on my knob."

Seemingly the most genuine thing that the ghost could swear upon, Gomer sighed, nodding. "Fine."

Something crossed with joy and hunger flashed in Piers' eyes. "You'll let me?"

"Just this once. And if you tell Everard, or anyone for that matter, I'll dust you myself." The threat, though not really something he could easily carry out, sounded quite genuine, as the feelings behind it were more than enough. "And if he goes poking around in your memory, it's the one place you keep hidden, you understand?"

"Yes, yes. Utterly shameful to share one's body with a desperate spirit." He waved Gomer's concerns away. "I won't tell a soul, living or dead."

With a final, deep breath, he swallowed what was either anxious fear or excited anticipation and nodded. In the next moment, it was as if a cold wind passed through him. Though not chilly, there was the odd sensation of something within him, something cool and unnatural. In his head, he could hear Piers' excited voice, their hands rubbing together in anticipation. Now, you're going to have to tell me what you feel, since I can't actually feel anything.

You can't- Gomer's body had already begun to move, starting with the removal of his shirt. Though not resisting the influence of the spirit within him, he clearly radiated his frustration enough that he could feel Piers shift around his head. What do you expect me to do? Narrate the whole... thing?

When Piers had been a free agent, his mind not pressed up against Gomer's in such close proximity, it had been far more difficult to tell what he was thinking. Though he could not read the other boy's mind, he could still feel the shifts in his emotions; and his last question had elicited a surprising well of indignant frustration and - from Gomer's own life experience's - shame. Well, most of it, yes. The good parts.

There was a sort of sadness in the quality of his shared thoughts, and as Gomer's body dropped the shirt to the floor and his hands started at his belt, he mentally sighed. I'm... not going to say anything aloud.

In here is fine. The relief that flooded from his words caught at Gomer's chest.

Peirs- Paying less attention to what was going on outside of his body that within, Gomer instinctively cut himself short as he felt his fingers, puppeteered by a will not his own, tightly wrap about the target of Peirs' hungry craving. Oh! That's a bit... tight...

Is it? There was playful disappointment in his thoughts, but he loosened his grip some. Well, you're a bit small than I am so I-

I believe I was to give the commentary, thank you. Whatever inklings of pity he'd been musing over quickly found their way to the back of his mind at the ghost's petty slight.

He felt his lips turn in a coy grin. With a gentle entreaty, Paris' thoughts were like a whisper. Then start already.

[Gomer Caitiff]

The twenty-third of spring, 511 AV

At first, it was incredibly awkward. Having never play by play had to describe what he felt, especially to someone who was in control of his body and engaged in a risqué exercise, nothing felt natural. As they continued, however, it did become a bit easier, even to the point where, near the end, Gomer had begun to whisper the words aloud, unintentionally of course. Once finished, lying on his bed and staring up at the rich wooden panelling of the ceiling, he'd forgotten entirely about the time limit agreed upon.

And you really felt none of that? There was a soft curiosity in his thoughts, not one of pity or sorrow so much as disbelief. It had certainly been an alarmingly exciting experience for him, though there had been plenty of stumbles along the way.

He could feel the ghost sigh inside of him, and his hand absently rubbed his chest. Not a thing. Though, I did get a good idea of what you were feeling. Gomer felt his face break out in his a cocky grin. Told you it would be the best.

Ignoring the lewd comments, Gomer let the ghost linger. His own thoughts now no longer clouded by the surprising fog of his libido, he found his curiosity getting the better of him in its place. I've never heard of a spirit who was so... sensually frustrated.

Is this your way of telling me I'm special? Gomer's body let out an amused chuckle.

With his defenses lowered, Gomer was able to catch glimpses of Pier's past, little more than flashes of memory. He could see the dark eyes of a man beside him, feel the warmth of his hands on his body, smell the woody scent of his skin. Do you... miss him?"

Immediately he felt his body chill, the spirit inside of him twisting around in surprise. What do you- Gomer's brow knit into an angry furrow. Have you been poking around my thoughts?

When I... erm... Rather than say the words again, Gomer recalled a specific moment during their shared time but quickly followed up with the image of a man's face, the same that had flashed across both of their consciousnesses at the time. His dark eyes were further complimented by a head of wavy, charcoal locks. In the particular memory, he had been frozen in a dashing smile, enough to set the hearts of any aflutter. And I just thought-

With a cold snap, much like a shattering mirror, Piers rushed out of Gomer's body, leaving behind a deep set chill in his bones. "And here you thought I was the dangerous one."

Grimacing and the sudden heaviness of his limbs, Gomer forced himself to sit up, his own state of undress forgotten in the moment. "I didn't intentionally search it out-"

"No, but you though it perfectly acceptable to poke around in my head without my permission." There was a hurt in his voice, one that ran far deeper than a simple faux paux.

Finding his own indignant tone, Gomer frowned, "And you're one to condemn. Need I remind you what you just finished doing with my body?"

Mist swirling, Piers rounded on him, his hair now wet and body clothed in an open, silken robe. "After you gave me your explicit permission."

"I don't see why a ghost-"

Again he was cut off, Piers' now swollen face close enough that the air between them felt icy. "That's just it, isn't it?" He spat the words out, ethereal water dripping from his lips. "All you Cravens, whether you have the gods damned title or not, just see us as tools. You think I used you?" He scoffed, finally drawing back, though the room's temperature had already fallen by several degrees. "If I'd tried to forcibly possess you, make you do what I wanted, disregarded your privacy and free will... not that you'd be able to do it, but I'm sure one of you over eager relatives would be quick to shove me in a jar."

The acidity in his voice was surprising, and Gomer couldn't help but feel the twist of guilt in his chest as the words found their purchase. "I didn't mean-"

"It doesn't matter, either way." Piers seemed to calm on his own, his words sounding more like a sigh than a sentence. "I'm dead, you're not. I'm just a... shadow of who I was. I can't even remember when I was born just..." His soulmist swirled frustratedly. "I just see his face. Over and over." Shooting Gomer a wearily condescending glance from the side of his eyes, he sighed, "You really are a pathetic little spiritist aren't you? You mess up a simple wank."

[Gomer Caitiff]

The twenty-third of spring, 511 AV

Though he had come to the conclusion there had been nothing simple about the motives behind what had happened, Gomer figured it better not to point that out. Involuntarily groaning as he swing his legs off of the bed and let his bare feet settle firmly on the floor, it was his turn to sigh. "You're not wrong, of course. If anything it's a stretch to call me a spiritist at all." With a grimace he wiped at the mess on his stomach, finding a nearby washcloth on his nightstand to finish his cleanup. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry." He stepped into his small clothes and pants, his shirt a bit to close to Piers to casually collect, leveling an earnest gaze with the ghost.

"You're what?" Taken by surprise, Piers unblinkingly stared back. "Did a Craven just sincerely apologize to a ghost?"

"Well, I did, which may be a reason I've yet to be recognized as one, I suppose." The latter half was muttered more to himself, but Piers seemed, for the first time since his forceable exit, to be in a better mood.

"Why?"

Finding it a good time to gather his shirt, Gomer pulled it up and over his head before replying, his tousled hair sticking out at odd angles as he knit his brows in confusion. "Why... what?"

"Why would apologize?" Piers had since crossed his arms, his voice suspicious but eyes more curious than scrutinizing.

"I'm not sure I understand the question." The ghost continued to wait expectantly, and Gomer shifted in place. "Ehm... well, when one upsets another, one typically extends the other regret, if the trespass was indeed unintentional. Is that... not how ghosts...?"

Shaking his head, Piers regarded him with a thoughtful purse of his lips, the edges of his body having since stopped their aggravated flickering. "It's just, you're speaking with me like I'm a person."

Frowning, Gomer tilted his head just slightly. "Are you... not a person?"

Finally grinning, Piers' soulmist swirled and he no longer stood in an open face robe. Instead he was clad in a pair of well fitting breeches, boots, and shirt. He looked far more dashing with his body more conservatively concealed beneath cloth and leather. "It's been a long time since I've felt like one."

Fixing the buttons on his shirt, Gomer pressed on in his curiosity, the light in his eyes glinting in the diffused light that filtered through the high window of his room. "Then, as one person to another, would you tell me more about him? The man?"

"Ulterior motive?" The mist began to swirl in an aggravated rhythm, but Gomer shook his head.

"No. Not insomuch as what you would think. I'm merely interested, that's all. If you don't want to share-"

"So you're giving me a choice?" Piers raised a brow, arms still crossed but already the room had warmed a degree and all signs of hostility had since faded.

With a slow, thoughtful nod, Gomer mused aloud. "I suppose... but more an offer to listen rather than an ultimatum of 'yes' or 'no'." He thought back on the many conversations he'd had with the living, the dead, the soon to be dead. It was odd, in retrospect, how differently he'd been led to believe he should treat ghosts. The older boy in front of him, though as base and vile an erotic young man he might be, was as much a person as he. That he be reduced to the role of a tool, his identity more of a nuisance to be circumvented than a part of who he was, seemed cruel, and he was uncertain whether that cruelty was something he could sustain - especially given all that had led up to the current conversation.

"Then, you're asking... as a friend?" There was a hesitancy in his voice, not one of fear but similar to the sensation one feels when taking a risk without knowing full well the outcome - a mix of anxiety, uncertainty, and hope.

"Well, I'd think we're something akin to friends after having 'wanked one off together', as it were." He spoke with a fair share of embarrassment, the tips of his ears and blush of his cheeks reddening. "But, yes. As a friend." His face continued to redden as he was reminded of all the increasingly vivid descriptions he'd given to the other young man regarding his body and the sensations he'd experienced.

"...Alright. But I'm going to talk to you, not share it in your head." He spoke as if another possession was even feasible, and Gomer's aching muscles quietly whimpered in protest.

"That's-" He cleared his throat, further pulling out the chair that had been pushed into his desk and carefully lowered himself into it, making a point to present himself as agreeable as possible. "Quite fine."

[Gomer Caitiff]

The twenty-third of spring, 511 AV

"His name was Kemen, and he and I..." Piers, reminiscing, drew a breath for emphasis. "Well, I thought we were in love."

Gomer had read several epics in which there had been a plethora of literary romances. They had never particularly appealed to him, but he could recall with some accuracy the feelings of adoration that the face had been associated with - though there was also something... darker. Something he couldn't quite place, and he continued to listen intently to Piers' story.

"I can't remember where... but we spent all our free time together. I worked-" He grasped for the memory, eyes distant, "In a mine?" He shook his head. "It's not important. Every night I had available to me, I would meet with him. He had the most gentle way of kissing me, it was like..." Absently, he ran his fingers over his lips. "And I loved him. Unconditionally. I would have done anything for him."

His smile was gentle, voice soft. "I can remember my death clearly. It's the one thing I don't struggle to recall, whether it's by some curse I incurred in life or after." Muttering the thought to himself, he shook his head and continued. "It was spring, the flowers had just begun to bloom, and he and I were wrapped in each other's arms that night. I can't say for certain why, but he told me he wanted to try something."

Piers' edges flickered, his soulmist twisting uncomfortably. "I told him I was tired, that perhaps a later time would be better. He'd been aggressive of late, I can't really explain it. But the next moment I knew, he had his hands around my throat and his lips locked with mine. I... struggled, but I was afraid, even then, that I might injure him. I shouted, 'No!' but he didn't listen. There was a light in his eyes, the sort I'd never seen before, and I lost consciousness."

Gomer's face had since fallen into a concerned frown. He still didn't understand the mixed feelings associated with Kemen's memory, but it made sense that there was more than just love there.

"When I woke, there were... men and women." He paused, considering. "It was a long night. From what I was able to understand, Kemen had been hard pressed for money, and he'd... well. He was a smart man, and he'd found a way to survive." There was no expected bitterness in his voice, and Gomer thought more on the secondary feeling - longing?

"I, however, did not fare as well. I can't tell you what sort of service I was sold into, but it was not one that highly valued its wares. Or, maybe that was the point. To allow someone weak to feel strong, heh?" He shrugged. Having passed the subject of his once-lover, Piers seemed far more calm. The edges of his body no longer flickered and the mist of his body had stopped their writhing. "That same night, I was drugged and deemed needing a bath. The last thing I remember is realizing that I was going die, and that I'd never see Kemen again."

He smiled sadly at Gomer's confusion, "I couldn't blame him, I just... wanted to ask him why. To hear from his lips why he did what he did. And... I guess that need kept me here." Shaking his head, his next words were a sigh, "I've been searching gods only know how long, and I... sometimes I get scared that I'll forget what it was like to love him, to feel him. So I... substitute. When I can."

With a steady gaze, Gomer appraised the other young man, eyes soft and sad. "Thank you."

Now Piers' turn to chuckle uneasily, he returned a wary, "What for?"

"For telling me all that, for sharing with me, for showing me that there's more to a ghost than a will to be circumvented." He picked at the tip of his thumb with his other hand, "Have you had any luck in locating him?"

"No. Not for as long as I can remember. Your cousin is my best bet."

Nodding, Gomer leaned back in his chair, eyes gently curious. "Do you ever... want to...?"

"Pass on?" There was a fair amount of dismissive sarcasm in the way Piers said the words. "No. It's like... there's a string tied round my heart. It tugs at me, constantly, reminding me that there's still something I have do here. I can't just... leave. It doesn't work like that." Though he spoke as though the thought never crossed his mind, there was a sadness in his voice, something short of longing but enough that Gomer didn't need further explanation.

"Well, while I'm not in any position to offer you aid, should you feel the desire to speak with me, I would happily do so." His smile was kind, and his words sincere. "I can't imagine you have many friends. My offer is purely one of pity, of course." A playful light danced in his eyes and Piers grinned.

"I'd like that, I think. And if I needed more than a chat?" His brows rose lasciviously.

Clearing his throat, heat returning to his cheeks, Gomer shifted in his chair. "...then we shall... cross that bridge when we come to it."

Laughing then, Piers' grin widened. "You know, Gomer Caitiff. There's no reason you should ever feel inadequate, at least physically. You're a handsome young man, it wouldn't hurt to act like it."

Before Gomer could protest, there was a knock on his door. The latch clicked and there stood one of the Manor's servants, a stiff backed, middle aged man who always seemed to be squinting. Without wasting any time, he declared in a succinct tone, "Master Everard requests that Piers return to him posthaste." With a polite bow, he then close the door and, presumably, headed back down the hall from whence he came.

"Duty calls, I guess." Piers offered Gomer a parting wave. "I'll be looking forward to more pity chats."

Shaking his head with a slight roll of his eyes, he waved in return. "Yes, well, chats should be all you're looking forward to."