Secret Visitor

Surely he'd always remember the first time he saw her. From the tiny attic window far above her, he watched. Bold in his belief that he couldn't be seen, he moved to another window to study her. That very first moment when she'd left the shadow of the moving van, he wanted her, knew he had to have her. Her hair unfurled in the wind like a brilliant copper banner, the swing of the hips, even the lilt of her voice captured him as she unpacked. There was no way she could have seen him, but her bright eyes scanned the outside of the house and stared up at his window as if she knew he was there.

He loved her; it wasn't all secret dark wanting was it? No, of course he loved her.

She reminded him of his wife; his mind ripped that thought away and hid it. He wasn't ready to deal with the pain of those memories yet.

Finally, she was almost moved in, only a few boxes remained packed. He felt a faint sadness thinking of it, how he'd enjoyed watching her unpack her life and find new homes for it all. It had given him a small window into her world, her life and thoughts. No one visited her, or came to help her move in. How wrong of him was it to be grateful? There wasn't a doubt that he would find himself madly jealous of anyone who took her attention away. How could he be expected to control himself should that happen? She was all he had.

For now, she lay sleeping, head tilted slightly and hair spread in a crimson cloud on the cream of the pillow. He'd not yet seen her tie up her hair to sleep, something he personally loved about her. Deep in sleep her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks tickling her freckles. Behind those lashes he knew her eyes were a brilliant sky blue. Her full lips puckered in sleep, begging him to kiss them, to press against them.

Despite the slight chill, she slept under nothing more than a sheet. It lay about her, hugging her curves, her nipples pushing up tiny tents in the fabric. The sight of them made him feel a little weak. Though he'd watched her nearly from the first moment she'd arrived, he'd not managed to see any of the part of her he dearly wished too.

The scent of her curled around him, embraced the heart of him.

He wanted her, needed her. More than he had wanted anything before. He even loved her name, Sage.

Slowly he crept forward, oh so careful to be quiet though he wanted to sing at her nearness. Once he'd loved to sing, to hear his voice ring out in joy. Those times were long gone. He couldn't sing any more. He knew she'd been unable to hear him, she never had so far, but he was cautious none the less.

He stopped next to her bed, drinking her in. That wasn't enough for him he had to touch her. Softly he caressed her through the sheet, ready to disappear should she wake. A soft sigh passed her lips, eyelids fluttering. He wondered what she was dreaming of. He simply couldn't wait any longer to be with her.

Lightly he touched a fabric covered nipple and could felt it grow firmer. He felt that crippling desire growing in him.

Hoping her sleep was holding her deeply, he took that tiny mound and pressed it, just a little, just as a test. A soft sound escaped her, a wordless exhalation of air. Her breath seemed to caress him, fill him with her life.

With no indication she was going to wake he grew bold, slipping under the sheet in one seamless move. Another sigh and she turned her face slightly toward him, almost like she wanted to include him in her dreams. He pressed against her warmth, reveling in it. Good, she still slumbered. He could disappear in half a heartbeat, but right now it would pain his heart to do so. He didn't want Sage to know about him. No, not yet.

Sage's skin was soft, smooth as silk, as he caressed the underside of a breast. He couldn't remember touching anything so marvelous. Up over that curve to that wonderful hard rosy bump, he pulled it into himself, tugging and lapping at it. It had been so long that this one tiny thing was his whole world. It warmed his heart. Soft passionate sounds were passing her lips.

It took so much effort, so much of his strength to be solid enough to touch her. He would have to spend a long time as little more than a breath of wind containing a soul to pay for it. It was worth it to be here now, with her so deeply asleep.

Ah, sometimes there were advantages to being dead and bodiless He wasn't constrained to using limited hands or mouth. He picked up the other nipple, rubbing and pressing them both in a slow rhythm. He no longer had the equipment to get hard but he felt that familiar tension grow in him.

Not letting go of what he'd already taken into himself, he began to caress downward, across the gentle curve of her stomach. Her legs were still mostly pressed together, tight coppery curls cradled between them. He pushed his way between them, forcing them slightly apart. A soft moan and her eyelids fluttered but she stayed asleep. That was a small relief, he didn't know if he could make himself stop now, not feeling those slightly damp curls in his grasp.

If she'd been awake certainly it would have been a strange feeling to be touched and played with so thoroughly in so many places at once. But dreaming, surely it didn't matter at all.

He parted her lovely nether lips to touch the moist nub they hid. Her hips rose just slightly, those wordless sounds still escaping her.

A caress to that magical spot and she moaned. He included her clit into the rhythmic stroking and tugging. He wondered if they would have liked one another had he still been alive, but he knew that was a pointless train of thought. He would never be alive again and likely if she died, she would not remain here.

Those sad thoughts brought out the darkness in him. Tightly he gripped every part of her he had in his control. Sage's head pressed back and she cried out softly. He watched her face, daring her to open her eyes, but she slept on. He was pretty certain at that moment that if she did wake he wouldn't stop. He doubted he could. In life he'd never been one to force anything on anyone, he never would have dreamed of it. He'd been a dutiful caring husband, a loving father. Slowly his memories had been growing fuzzy, vague, easier to let go of. Not too much longer and he would not resemble the man he had been in life.

Now he no longer cared if he did good or evil. What did it matter if his soul was made darker? There was very little that could be worse than what he lived with now.

Finally he felt himself growing weaker; he knew it was coming down to a war between his remaining time and her body. He pressed hard again, feeling her undulate beneath him. Her heart was beating faster coaxing him on. He played with her, stroking and pressing. She groaned, raising her hips to the beat he was creating with her body.. His strength was draining fast; he needed to feel her as much as he could before he could no longer hold any sort of form.

In a move as smooth as the one he got under the sheet with, he slid into her, filling her tightly, more than any living man could. Pressing tight against her swollen flesh, her moaning grew deeper. He moved slowly in her, still fondling everything else. She was getting close, moving to meet him, making almost pained sounds. He wanted her to finish, wanted to feel and hear her shuddering beneath and around him. He tried really hard to hold on as her voice rose, it was almost as if her passion was draining the strength from him. In the end he had the power for one last hard thrust that woke her, just as he lost his form.

"No..." a soft whisper of sound came from Sage as she felt him pull out of her, leaving her empty and craving.

Formless now he was able to watch her as she opened her eyes to search the room, her heart still beating a quick pulse, hips partially raised.

Finally awake and finding herself on the edge, she slid a hand under the sheet, down between her legs. He watched as her eyes slid closed and a soft groan passed her lips. He felt a touch of that dreaded jealousy, that she was caressing herself and bringing herself to that peak he had so longed for. It was almost a painful disappointment.

She cried out, hips forward and head back. It was over, he watched as she shuttered. He had wanted to feel that convolution run through her, feel her tighten around him. When her body calmed and her breathing grew deep again he let go of his jealousy and disappointment and replaced it with a small dark joy. He could always try again later.