Most of the common folk are perfectly content to simply cower before a necromancer and his undead horde. Well, “content” may not be the word they would use, but they still cower all the same, never appreciating the necromancer’s effort. That’s the problem with peasants, really. They see one shambling army of the unliving and think they’ve seen it all. No respect for the craft. They complain when you burn down their village with a horde of flaming skeletons because you destroyed their livelihood. What about the necromancer’s livelihood? Do they have any idea how much it costs to assemble even the measliest of armies of death? Or do they figure that all necromancers are rich? It’s not like skeletons are made out of money. The job prospects aren’t that great, either. No opportunity for advancement either, particularly if you’re still alive. Liches are all the craze these days. You can’t even land a TA at a necromancer school unless you’re at least four hundred.

The point is, it’s not easy being a necromancer. It’s all fun at games at first, sure, but once you get to about a hundred or so staggering piles of rot and magic, time spent on logistics eats away at time spent reanimating things and being evil. Most necromancers pass off a lot of these tasks on apprentices, but those are hard to come by for a young practitioner of the art. The only option remaining, then, is to seek the assistance of one of the more intelligent varieties of undead. They tend to be expensive to make, yet cheap to hire, as the inability to experience most of life’s pleasures tends to reduce one’s cost of unliving. To facilitate these arrangements, it is not uncommon for necromantic associations to hold little get-togethers, generally scheduled around nights of necromantic auspice.

It was for one of these very events that Theodore was now preparing for. His army of death was small, but growing quickly, a hopeful contender in the competitive world of necromantic superiority. He had struck out at the last few get-togethers, so he was particularly anxious. He dirtied his hair for the fourth time today, applying a carefully crafted mix of grave dust and burnt sacrifices to his shaggy black hair while trying his best to keep his robes a pristine, shining black. He had no idea how the older guys did it. The disheveled-yet-formal look was more difficult than he had imagined. At least he had the pallid complexion down this time. He tanned well, the result of a life spent training with the sword before donning the robe of the necromancer. That, coupled with his love of the great outdoors, had made him stick out uncomfortably as the most life-like person in the room the last time he went looking for an undead assistant. He hadn’t seen the sun in months, but his hard work paid off: if he stood still, he could easily be mistaken for a marble statue, or possibly a drowned corpse.

Ted buttoned up his robe as he watched himself in the mirror. His robes were loose, intentionally hiding his muscular body, as necromancers were expected to be as lanky as possible. Finally satisfied with his appearance, he donned his hood and made for the door, nearly forgetting his staff — a twisted collection of exotic bones bound with sinew and topped with a skull — on his way out. He had yet to master the delicate art of astral projection, so he was forced to travel in-person. Fortunately, the meeting was not far away, an ancient cathedral, long abandoned before the Nordrhein Association of Necromancers had made it their headquarters. He mounted his steed, a young nightmare named Eadweard, and flew off into the sunset.

They arrived a few hours later, a scant quarter hour before the start of festivities. The ride had been easy and cool, so a few shakes and a little magic was all it took for Ted to neaten up his robes. He adjusted his hood, making sure that everything above the mouth would be hidden by shadow. The mysteriously shadowy hood was a relatively new invention, having been popularized by the again-late former lich Shadeskull the Fallen after his ascendance to the Council of Necromancers. The hood was uncomfortable, but such was the price of fashion. After making sure Eadweard disappeared safely into the night, he stepped through the rotten doors of the cathedral, hoping that the extra time would aid in his search.

The cathedral would have been grand, had it been maintained by anyone other than necromancers. The rows of pews had been torn out and replaced with large, open areas, often covered with arcane writings and glyphs. Indefatigable, the undead did not require vast amounts of seating. Piles of bones and the smell of rotting flesh permeated the interior, a thick coat of (artificial) dust covering every available surface, spare the organ in the back. Contrary to popular belief, bones, dust, and spiderwebs provide no benefit for organs. In fact, too much detritus could attract rats, which may well eat the bellows. Being evil isn’t as easy as it seems.

Only a few of the unliving had yet arrived, and fewer necromancers. A few pairs were already forming, and even some trios. Not all undead minions were exclusive, some being held like a timeshare between two or more necromancers. Death knights, in particular, were rarely used outside of battle. As such, their services were often split between as many as a dozen necromancers, a surprisingly important factor leading to the relative rarity of undead invasions. It took a lot of preparation to amass and direct in army in only a month. It was a little-known fact that this scheduling was often responsible for the sudden retreat or dissipation of entire armies. Most of the living would claim that it was the power of some god or hero. Necromancers, for their part, did little to correct this assumption.

Death knights, however, were far from what Ted was looking for. Not only were they too busy, but they generally refused to deal with the day-to-day grind of owning an undead horde. For the time being, Ted was content to lead his army himself, a small holdover from his former life as a military man. Vampires were hard for mortals to control, their powers of seduction often turning them from servant to master. Mummies excelled at tedious work, yet had exceptionally poor communication skills. They also tended to be high-maintenance. It seemed a wight would be his best bet. Unfortunately, none had yet to arrive, so he settled into one of the few chairs scattered about the floor and waited.

To Ted’s chagrin, it became quickly clear that he was not the only person who had considered this. The few wights that showed up were quickly surrounded by necromancers. In a crowd, Ted had little to distinguish himself, so he was relegated to watching the other necromancers ply their trade. Some offered treasure, while others sought to attract a servant with only their name and reputation. More often than not, the apparent winner had chosen instead to display his mastery of the arcane arts. Apparently, wights were attracted most to the skill of their potential master. At the very least, he had gained some valuable information from tonight. As the night drug on with little progress, he decided it was time for a drink, approaching the bartender and ordering the strongest drink he had that was still safe for mortal consumption. Unsurprisingly, it was terrible. However, alcohol is alcohol, and it was going to be a slow night.

Three drinks in, Ted was looking for a bathroom. Whatever that stuff was, it was not agreeing with him, alcohol or not. He was beginning to suspect it may have been some kind of poison when he finally made it to a wash basin. He knelt before it, trying his best to hold in his dinner. His mind briefly wandered back to the words of his former commanding officer, who had warned him that studying healing would have been more useful to a soldier than necromancy. Ted briefly feared that the man had been correct until he reminded himself that he was merely a little ill, and that his commanding officer was now Skeleton #28 and stowed away in an old barrel under his lair. On second thought, Ted was definitely right. He moaned to himself in discomfort, a mournful, chilling sound that surprised him as it came out. That is, until he realized he was not alone. He spun, nearly losing the contents of his stomach as he did so. Sure enough, a figure stood behind him, nearly invisible as it squirmed uncomfortably to and fro. A ghost.

Ted waved casually at the interloper before turning and emptying the night’s spoils into the basin. He felt a soft tingling sensation across his back and turned his eyes to see the ghost, slightly more visible now, rubbing his back as he heaved. Though he did appreciate the gesture, her insubstantial hands did little to help him. The ghost flickered a light pink and retreated slightly when he told her, leaving him to finish his business. A few minutes later, he rinsed the taste from his mouth with a nearby jug of water and turned to leave, surprised to see the ghost still standing next to him. She was completely visible now, a shimmering mist of white that hovered a few inches off the ground. She was captivating, more beautiful in death than any woman he had ever seen in life. Her features were delicate but refined, the unliving image of a fantastical princess. Ankle-length white hair wrapped around her legs, hinting that her noble appearance may well reflect a noble bearing. She was petite but shapely, giving her a youthful appearance that did not match the weight of ages in her expression. Her clothing too betrayed her age, a long and lacy party dress from an age gone by that waved gently in its own breeze, as insubstantial as the one who wore it. Her face bore a look of concerned compounded with the profound loneliness of undeath, yet it only served to highlight her gentle beauty.

Ghosts were a rare find at an event like this, their ethereal nature often making manual tasks far more complex. She was, however, his best lead of the night. Moreover, she was gorgeous, and totally his type. Dead, that is. He straightened in an instant, presenting his hand as he introduced himself. They both stared at his outstretched hand until he withdrew it, wishing desperately that robes had pockets. Why the hell was magic so damn impractical? He broke out of his embarrassment as she introduced herself, her voice unsteady as she fought to suppress an amused smile.

She identified herself as Sophia, though she could remember precious little else from her mortal life. Her brief introduction was met with silence as the gears turned for Ted. He had never met a ghost before, and was at a bit of a loss. Mercifully, Sophia continued the conversation, making small talk. When she asked if Ted had yet found himself a minion, he quickly regretted letting her steer the conversation. He responded lamely that he had not yet found a suitable partner. Come to think of it, what was she even doing here? He hadn’t seen her in the main room, not to mention she was the first ghost he had ever seen. Weren’t they usually solitary? For a moment, she looked as though she might turn and flee. Instead, she answered stiffly that she was bored with haunting the family castle and had chosen to set out on her own, looking for a more interesting way to pass the ages. She went on, saying that most ghosts generally avoided such meetings, as necromancers generally rejected ghosts outright or worse, forced them into more useful, corporeal forms. She said that she hated the idea and decided to sneak in to see how things were going, and bumped into him almost immediately.

It was late and Ted was still feeling the effects of…whatever it was that he had most recently ingested. The way he saw it, he was in a no-lose scenario and decided to ask the ghost to name her price. Immediately upon doing so, he regretted opening a negotiation on such a weak foot, but her look of surprise and excitement told him he had little to fear from the ghost’s negotiation skills.

“Really, you’ll take me?”

“Well, we haven’t discussed a price yet, but-”

“Free! All I want is a place to live and something to do. I’ve been alone for so long.”

With a grin and a pronouncement, a deal was made on the spot. Ted was excited to finally have an assistant, but Sophia was in her own world. Her jaded appearance washed away, replaced by barely contained excitement. She talked so much, one would have feared she would have passed out, had she the need to breathe. He rode back to his lair silently as she floated with him, practically pouring out the story of her unlife as he struggled to keep up. True to her word, her unlife had been exceptionally boring, though Ted believed the ghost had at least earned an attentive listener. After all, she was working for free. Sophia clearly had no talent for haunting, as she ended up helping lost children or cleaning up dirty rooms more often than not. Apparently she had mastered telekinesis, so she would at least be able to contribute in that regard. In spite of her egregiously uninteresting stories, her excitement was contagious and Ted found himself responding and sharing stories of his own before he knew it. She must have been an incredible person in life if she could make a story about helping serve tea to a blind woman interesting. If nothing else, his dark and lonely days of rusting scimitars for skeletons and sizing replacement bones were over.

By the time they arrived at his home, Ted was starving, cold, and had a growing headache. Mercifully, the stories stopped as Sophia took the time to scout out his home. He knew she was a ghost, but it was still a little unsettling to watch her blithely disregard doors and walls as she ran around, prodding everything she saw with invisible force. He tried not to bring work home, but she managed to collect almost every trinket of his craft he left lying around the cottage and interrogate him about their various utilities. She did actually find some items he had been looking for, though, so he bit his tongue and tried to stay pleasant. While she was busy ransacking his house, he took the opportunity to make himself a meal, having lost his last some time ago. He offered her a plate as well, out of courtesy, and she declined politely, being a ghost.

As a consequence of living in the middle of nowhere, necromancers rarely dined well, usually simple stews made from whatever they could grow and what meat wandered accidentally into a trap or a pit of skeletons. Ted was no different in this regard, finding himself munching on hard bread and stew as he sat in silence at his small table. It was then that he realized Sophia was not talking. He looked up, curious as to her whereabouts and the cause of her silence, when he saw her “sitting” in a chair across from him, watching him eat. A spoon rose to his face as he watched her watching him, pondering where this was going. He swallowed and she sighed, slumping into her chair. She answered him before he could ask, claiming that she wished she could still eat. He tried to console her, assuring her that the food was somehow simultaneously bland and foul-tasting, yet it did little to lift her mood. Silence returned as he poured his leftovers back into the pot, his appetite waning rapidly. He wanted to cheer her up, but was at a loss for how to do so. It was then that he remembered a failed project he had worked on years ago, something that may help. He excused himself and made the short walk to his lair, making certain he was not being followed. It was going to be a surprise.

One of the few sources of legitimate income for necromancers was in offering goods and services in defense against other necromancers. Nobility and particularly well-to-do merchants often warded their sleeping areas against the undead and their burial places against necromancy in general. Laws had always been rather unclear as to whether killing the zombie of a king was regicide, so it was in everyone’s best interest that bodies be well-protected. Ted had worked on such devices for some time, partially succeeding in making a material that no undead, no matter how powerful could rip or float through. Unfortunately, the cloth was ludicrously toxic to humans and tended to dissolve bones, so it was generally of little use. Wearing thick leather gloves, he retrieved the cloth, a square of roughly blanket size from a sealed chest and returned with a smug grin and a plan.

When Ted re-entered his home, he saw Sophia still in her chair, back to the door as she watched the low flames of the still-burning cooking fire. Unfolding the blanket, he approached her quietly before throwing it over her head and wrapping it around her body. She fell through her chair, screeching as she caught herself halfway through the floor, blanket now caught on the back of her seat. She shot him a look of annoyance before poking idly at the cloth, clearly surprised that it responded to her touch.

“It’s for you. It’s a little something I made years ago. It’s not safe for the living, but you should be fine. If you want, I can make some gloves or something out of it. Maybe throw it over you head and cut little eye holes so you can dress up like a ghost.”

A stupid smile grew slowly over his face as he said it, clearly impressed by his own sense of humor. Sophia stared blankly back at him before bursting into laughter, more at his attempt to cheer her up than the joke. She stood into the blanket, tenting it with her arms while attempting to make spooky ghost sounds. Her lack of skill at normal ghost activity clearly was not limited to haunting, as she sounded more like an out-of-tune accordion falling down the stairs inside a tuba than anything that could be remotely considered scary. Still, she was enjoying herself as she started to wander around, knocking over her chair and the table while alternately wailing and snorting with suppressed laughter. When she grew tired of her ghost impression, she freed her head and tied the blanket around herself like a shawl. She gave flashed an earnest smile and thanked him as she returned to her seat, now actually sitting upon the cloth. She shifted uncomfortably, obviously unused to tactile feedback. Despite her discomfort, she did seem to be enjoying herself.

Time passed as the two sat by the fire in silence. Unlike before, it was a comfortable silence, one shared between new friends. Eventually, Sophia yawned and stood, claiming that the day had been eventful and she needed to rest. Ted was unsure how to respond, trying instead to determine if she was pulling his leg. When she saw his confusion she assured him that while ghosts do not need to sleep, they do benefit from resting and recuperating the energy they used to manifest and control their supernatural form and power. Finished with her explanation, she picked out a spot on the floor and spread out the blanket before turning to wish her new employer good night.

She paused when she saw his expression, looking as though she had suddenly sprouted another head. She looked down to see what was amiss when she realized she was naked. With the realization, she grabbed at the blanket, forgetting that she was still standing atop it and somehow managing to upend herself in the process. She scrambled to regain her modesty, clutching the blanket over her modest bust.

“I simply forgot to project my clothing. It’s not a part of me or anything, and I just forgot. And stop staring at me like that.”

That was much easier said than done. The more she tried to cover herself, the more alluring her luminescent skin was. Her whole body glowed red as his eyes worked her over, her ghostly body apparently still able to express embarrassment. Speaking of embarrassment, it was then that Ted noticed the growing bulge in his pants. His realization seemed to draw her attention to the spot, his tenting clearly not unnoticed. For a time, they simply stared at each other as though slowly drawing imaginary lots to determine who would be forced to speak first. Despite his best efforts, the stiffness in his pants only grew. If he tried to cover himself now, he would be admitting defeat, something he would not do on his first day of having an assistant. If covering himself was admitting defeat, then the surest route to victory was to do the opposite. Without thinking, he sprung into action, dropping his trousers to the ground. His member sprang free from the stifling confines of his pants to stand proudly at attention, pointing directly at the surprised ghost.

Theodore’s mind caught up with his body as he immediately began to regret his decision. He was unsure as to what kind of logic had led him to this place, though he cared not, more occupied with trying to figure his way out. His puzzlement was replaced with terror as he saw a coy smile drag across Sophia’s face. She rose to her feet, covering herself again with the blanket before approaching him. She swayed as she walked, making sure his eyes were where she wanted him. She reached out from the blanket and ran a finger down his chest, though his shirt. Though she could not touch him, he could feel her presence, a sort of cool tingling where her spectral finger met his skin. He shivered as she pushed into him, the feeling spreading across the muscles of his chest as her hand went deeper. He shuttered as her hand worked its way down his body, sliding over his erection like cool silk. It tingled like a million tiny static shocks, an unfamiliar yet entirely welcome sensation.

“I really appreciate what you did for me today. I was hoping to find some way to repay you, but it seems as though you did all the work for me. Because of you, I felt the touch of another for the first time in centuries. It is only fitting that I repay the favor. Do you not agree?”

A single finger ran up and down his length, teasing but never truly stimulating him. She smiled as he gasped, retracting her hand and stepping slowly away. He was about to complain when a sudden tightness formed around his erection, encasing it in invisible force. She bit her finger as the tightness glided smoothly up his length, eliciting a short gasp of pleasure. The force wrapped around him was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was impossibly smooth, yet articulate. No part of his member escaped its attention as it engulfed him, kneading him with with small points of force as it ran up and down his shaft. She was not lying when she said that she had mastered telekinesis, though he wondered exactly how much practice it took to reach this level of skill. The invisible force worked its was back down his shaft, squeezing even tighter around the base. It pushed back against him, forcing him to walk backwards until his legs found a chair. He sat as another band of force began to work its way down from his head, squeezing and twisting as descended.

She lowered the blanket slowly, exposing herself to him an inch at a time as she swayed her hips back and forth to her own rhythm. She maintained a slow pace on his member, savoring the way he twitched and jumped under her spell. The blanket had made its way below her navel when she tied it off, wearing it now like a sash about her waist. She rolled her hips as she walked towards him, running her hands from her waist, up her stomach, and to her breasts. She rolled them in her hands and leaned in to give him a better look. Her nipples hardened with her attention as she rolled them between her fingers and thumbs. Her pure white skin began to flush red with arousal as she moaned into his ear. In reality, she could not feel even her own touch, though he need not know that. She was more aroused than she could ever remember being, though she could do little to relive herself. She placated herself with redoubling her efforts with him.

She dropped the blanket to the floor and crouched, perching above his legs in an imitation of sitting in his lap. His thighs tingled with the now-familiar sensation of her touch as she rocked back and forth atop him. A third force had materialized underneath him, rolling and tugging gently on his balls while the others continued to grip his base and work up and down his shaft. The tingling sensation started to spread over his leg, drawing his attention away from his swollen cock. The new sensations came from the wetness now dripping from her onto him and running down his leg. She moaned as she rubbed against him, though it sounded more like frustration than pleasure. He was about to ask if she was alright when the invisible band wrapped around his length started to vibrate. His words caught in his mouth as he threw his head back and gasped at the new sensation gripped him. The band grew and tightened until it surrounded his entire length. It had stopped moving entirely, except for a slow pulse of tightness that started at the base and ran towards his head, the vibration never stopping.

He felt the need within him build, his balls struggling to rise against the force pulling them down and rolling them around. She seemed to have found the maximum stimulation he could take and simply held there, unwilling to let their session end. Again, she pressed her bust into his face, pulling at and tweaking her nipples scant inches in front of him. He fought the urge to reach out an touch them, knowing full well that acknowledging her limitations would ruin the moment. He settled for gripping the chair with all his might, his knuckles growing whiter than normal with the effort. Her hands joined the act, running all over his chest and stomach, admiring his physique. Wherever he fingers ran, muscles tensed in response, brought to life by the soft electricity of her touch. As much as he wanted to orgasm, he had to admit that he did not want the pleasure to end. He was absolutely certain that nothing and no one else could compare with the contrasting sensation of her magical grip and ephemeral touch. Her wetness had spread over both his legs and as now dripping all over his crotch, spreading the sensation over his entire lower body. A million pricks of electricity throbbed and flowed over his body, the sensation overwhelming him and making him shake with arousal.

It was then that a fourth invisible force attached itself to him, wrapping around his crown. It spun and rolled around his head as it vibrated in a way he could not possibly describe. Despite her slow pace, the new stimulation proved to be just slightly more than he could take. He gripped even harder onto the chair, certain that he was actually deforming the wood with his self-restraint. His climax rose slowly, welling up from deep within him but in no hurry to reach its peak. His eyes scrunched shut as his breathing caught, his entire body tensing to meet his impending orgasm. He vaguely registered the figure leaning over him, coming up to face his ear.

“Come for me. Now.”

When she said now, he felt one of her hands shoot through his body. The intense tingling spread through his stomach in a line, ending in an explosion of electricity as her finger stabbed through him and flicked lightly onto his prostate. All he needed was a nudge and she gave a shove. Ted flew headlong into his orgasm, shaking and yelling as he came. The first strand shot well above his head, firing straight through his spectral partner’s head. She moaned in his ear as his orgasm continued, his entire body jumping with every shot as her ministrations continued. The bands around his cock chased his spasms, milking every last drop he had as he spattered the floor with his cum. Even as his balls ran out, the contractions continued, wave after wave of diminishing pleasure sweeping over him. When he finally came down, he sank into the chair, too exhausted to do anything more. Sophia stood and observed her handiwork, giggling seductively as she watched him jitter in afterglow.

As his brain struggled to restart through the haze of his orgasm, Ted realized that Sophia had yet to finish. He knew she was trying to thank him, but he was going to be damned if he let her go unsatisfied. He was probably going to be damned anyway for being a necromancer, but it is the thought that counts, dammit. On shaky legs, he rose from the chair and began to plan for the strangest quest in his life. Fucking a ghost. She seemed surprised that he was able to stand at all, even more so at his sudden chanting. He glowed with power as the magic built. Ghosts may possess powerful innate magic, but nothing in creation could contest a wizard’s mastery of magic. He began to undress as his skin glowed even brighter. She started to back up, unsure how to respond to the sudden change in the room. Still chanting, he stepped forward after her, grabbing her hand as she recoiled.

Sophia squeezed back as she felt his hand grab hers. She stood speechlessly as he pulled her into his embrace, holding her body tight against his. She could feel the pressure of his arms, the rapid beating of his heart, and the warmth of his body against hers. She cried out with delight at the sudden sensation. Her mouth sought his, but was pushed away by a hand. He shook his head and chanted louder, signaling that his continued participation in the spell was required. Her mouth was soon occupied anyway as she gasped when his hands found her breasts. He was doing what she could only pretend to do, tugging and twisting at her nipples, stiff and overwhelmingly sensitive from centuries of numbness. Every nerve in her body was alight with pleasure, experiencing his every caress as a new sensation, re-learning what it means to feel. She undulated against his grip, desperate to feel as much of him as she could. He lay down on the floor, pulling her atop him. Her whole body pulled against his, soaking in his warmth and the softness of his flesh. The hard blocks of his muscle pushed delightfully against her as she ground into him, her tongue tracing the lines between his muscles. Unwilling to wait any longer, she righted herself, straddling his crotch with her own. She rubbed her slit along his length, eager for his erection to return. She could feel her own wetness at it soaked his skin, easing her passage over him. She did not even realize that her mouth had already gone slack and that she was panting nonstop as she rubbed herself over him.

In no time at all, she felt him harden underneath her, the underside of his cock pushing delicately against her slit. She bent forward, grinding her pearl against the underside of his head, drawing out gasps from the both of them. Sophia continued to slide over his length until he was painfully hard and completely covered in her arousal. Her hands braced against his chest, savoring the feeling of his skin against her. He rose to meet her, pushing ever-so-slightly deeper inside. His tip caught on her apex, escaping with a quick thrust that ran the length of his member over her nub. She lost her grip as she moaned, her whole body falling onto his. She slid forward and gripped his length, aiming it directly at her waiting sex, and pushed. They gasped as she slid down him, each inch more pleasurable than the last. She groaned in disappointment when she reached his base, pulling off to relieve the sensation. She came down again with speed, shuddering with the impact. She couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate, too lost in the rediscovered sensation. She felt herself stretch to accommodate him, felt herself squeeze around him. She felt nothing except where her body met his, focusing all of her body’s sensation onto one point. It was overwhelming.

With her next drop, he bucked his hips to meet her, launching her slightly forward. She may be able to touch him, but she still lacked mass. His hands found her hips, gripping everything he had and pulling her onto him. She was barely even moving on her own, simply grinding against him as he pulled her atop him over and over. She let herself fall limp, loving the sensation of being thrown about, his strong hands alone anchoring her consciousness. With every thrust, his cock threatened her grip on reality, the indescribable feeling inside her expanding to become her entire world. More. She needed to feel more. Her arms shot through the floor, wrapping around his back and pulling him close. The vigor of his thrusts pulled her entire body over his, scraping her overly sensitive nipples across his skin. Pleasure flowed through her at every point of their contact as she leveraged her own thrusts back against him with her arms. She heard nothing but her own panting as she lost herself inside her own body. She felt incredibly warm, and not just from his body heat. Every inch of her burned with heat, each prick and prod of contact setting her nerves alight with pleasure. She held her breath as the sensation rolled around inside her, neither rising nor abating. She never felt like this before, even when she had a body. Drool was leaking from the edge of her mouth as she whimpered, trapped at the precipice of orgasm, her body shaking with delight.

Ted groaned as he pulled the ghost up and down his cock. He could feel her skin against his, cool to the touch, but unbelievably smooth. Despite her cool skin, she felt like a fire inside, a deep crimson flush over her lower body radiating the heat of her pleasure. The site of their lovemaking was scalding hot and soaked through, long strands of her arousal connecting them even as he pulled out of her. The heat from below stood out that much more as her upper body ground against his, her cool, silken touch making him shiver. He wanted nothing more than to taste her, to feel her tongue against his, but knew that doing so would break the spell. He settled for watching her face as he impaled her again and again. Her eyes became unfocused as her moans degenerated into whimpering and mewling. With every thrust, her face tightened as she took him in. Her entire body squeezed against him on his way in, begging to be stretched and filled. She drew limp as he withdrew, waiting to receive him again. Her cunt was unwilling to let him go, grabbing again and again at him as he pulled her off him, as though her life depended on his cock being firmly planted inside her.

He watched as her face fell into his chest, her body no longer able to support the weight of her own head. Her drool pooled around her open mouth, a continual stream of moans and whimpers escaping as he plunged in and out of her. He could tell that she was close, yet could not reach her climax. He was already lifting her as quickly as he could, impaling her as quickly as he could move his hands. He felt his own orgasm budding inside, though he refused to let it come. Not yet. He drove himself into her even harder, searching desperately for what she needed to cum. Every bit of extra depth he could reach drew a louder gasp, a deeper contraction from her as she fought for every fraction of an inch. It was then that inspiration struck.

Sophia cried out when he pulled out of her, her cunt squeezing around nothing as it struggled to find something to latch on to. His hands never left her, though, pulling her through the air as she tried to focus on what was happening. It was of no use, however, as her body fought against her to hold at the peak of her pleasure. Her questions were answered when she felt herself pressed against the blanket, face-down and hips thrust slightly into the air. She did not even realize he was atop her before he speared into her again, driving all the way up to his hilt. She spread her legs, wrapping her feet around his back, encouraging him to go as deep as he could with every thrust. The change of position had made all the difference as she felt the haze of pleasure start to thicken around her, dragging her thoughts back down to the heat and fullness of her sex. She grasped and bit at the blanket, grabbing onto whatever she could hold as her orgasm rose. It seemed she had no peak as the pleasure built and built, each thrust more incredible than the last. A long, low groan escaped her mouth as she lost herself to his thrust, her entire existence dedicated to welcoming him again and again, and the pleasure it brought.

She pushed herself against him as he entered her, practically fucking him back as she guided him deeper and deeper inside her. It was then when his tip slammed against her wall that her orgasm finally came. Her breathing stopped as her entire body tightened against him, the walls of her pussy alive with contractions as her body sought his orgasm. Stroke after stroke of her contractions pulled at him until she felt his twitch and jump inside her. Her entire body screamed with delight as she felt him empty inside her, rope after rope firing through her body. His warmth filled her as he came, his semen shooting clear through her ethereal form and forming thick lines on the blanket below. His frantic twitching and thrusting pulled her own orgasm along. She could do nothing but moan as her body grew numb to everything except the exquisite heat inside. She fought to stay conscious, to feel every last second of bliss. After what felt like hours, her orgasm subsided, leaving her panting and shaking in the aftermath. She realized he was no longer inside her and she turned to see him. Her eyes met his as he lay on the rough floor beside her, watching her shiver with delight. She reached out to touch him, but her hand went straight through him. The last thing she remembered as consciousness left her was the feeling of him lifting her in his arms and wrapping the blanket around her.

Ted awoke groggily, rolling over in bed, unwilling to return entirely to the waking world. He stopped abruptly as he bumped into a foreign object. Memories of last night came back quickly as he saw the blanket rising and falling in front of him. Come to think of it, he was rather surprised that ghosts breathed. Did they need to, or was it just habit? He ran his hand over the blanket, appreciating her feminine curves, muted though they were by the blanket. She stirred beneath his touch, turning to see what woke her. Their eyes met and she smiled at him, happiness written over every inch of her face. Her smile broke when she though aloud, remembering that he had mentioned that the blanket was toxic. He waved her off, reminding her that necromancers generally didn’t plan to “live” past thirty or so, anyway. She giggled at his response, watching him stand and stretch before donning his robes again. He felt a tickle as she tried to tug at his robes. He turned to see her nude, stretched across the blanket, hands reaching out towards him.

“Ready for round three?”

He sighed as he dropped his half-worn robe to the floor. He excused himself, much to her chagrin, and began searching his cottage. In an old drawer of miscellaneous bits, he had found what he was looking for. The lacquered hilt of the sword felt cool in his hand, much like her skin. The heraldry of Harold the Ghostslayer adorned the crossguard, the finely crafted blade long gone. He never knew why he kept the handle of an ethereal sword around, but he was suddenly glad that he had. He returned to his bedroom with a wicked smile, hilt in one hand, bottle of olive oil in the other. He stood in the doorway, watching the expressions shift over her face until a coy smile of comprehension spread across her face. She spread her legs, lifting her hips at him as he closed the door, approaching his spectral lover.

And that is the first time anyone has been pleasantly surprised by a necromancer.

THE END OF CHAPTER ONE