Gently Bitten

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Invisible Hand


Daria leaned back on the bed.  The heel of her foot scraped against the hardwood floor, and probably rubbed out the edge of the summoning circle she'd so carefully drawn, but it didn't matter now.

Her Love was here.

If she squinted, if she unfocused her eyes, if she breathed in deep the special incense she had burning at each corner of the room, she could just make out her outline, a deeper shadow in the shadows of the room.  The right rituals, the right incantations and spells, would make that outline clearer, and easier to see, but still just an outline!  Just the faintest glimpse of the woman she'd wanted to spend all eternity with, to whom she had refused to say "'till death parts us" because that was too soon.

And it had come far too soon.

"Ohhh, my Love..." she breathed.

He had said something snide about the incense.  The man she'd picked up in the bar downstairs.  But it didn't matter.

She'd have preferred a woman, but it *really* didn't matter as much as having someone *now*, tonight, as soon as possible.  He wasn't the point; though of course he wouldn't be able to imagine that.  But he needn't ever know.

Her Darling, her Heart and her Life, could not touch her now.  That faint outline only made her shiver with cold.  Her nipples stood up at the memory, or perhaps in anticipation, as she quickly shed her clothes for her Love, and laid back down on the mattress, and looked up into the sightless whites of the naked man's eyes, as he stood now mindlessly over her bed...

And then into the air beside him, where the faint ghost outline of her dead Love and Treasure stood with one hand reaching into the man's back... ready to use him as a puppet, to use his hands and body to touch her as she, a spirit, could not.

She lay back, and spread her legs for her dead lover's flesh puppet's touch, and tasted the salt of her own joyful tears as they were together again.