Imaginary Friend

AN: Yeah...Decided to continue this... ^__^;


The door smashed inwards as he stumbled inside, the alcohol in his blood and the energetic brunette in his arms making his steps stumble.

The boy was warm and eager and responsive and vocal.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” Said brunette grunted, clawing at his back and gnawing on his bottom lip. “I want you to fuck me so hard.”

It really wasn't what he was used to, but it would have to do. He wasn't about to sit another night and wait.

The hands hadn't come in two weeks. Since that last time, another night ending in tears, they'd been absent. And he found himself...missing them. The night passed slow and alone, more alone than with the phantom hands surely, and he was unbearably depressed.

He'd thought that it was what he wanted. Thought he wanted them gone. But now that they were...He wanted them back.

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

He blinked as he realized he was in the middle of another heated kiss, and responded eagerly. This was for him, this was so he could see his lover, hear someone else's cries, feel more than fingers.

They stumbled together, nearing the bed and all but tripping onto it, making the mattress squeak in protest. Pointed fingers tore open his shirt, popping the buttons and sending them to parts unknown, and he was flipped onto his back, pushed down by the demanding lover he'd brought home for the night.

He didn't even know the guy's name. Didn't even care really. All he wanted was hot flesh against his own.

Sharp teeth nipped down his bared chest, stopping at one nipple and biting hard, making him hiss in pain as his eyes watered. At least it was different though. It might leave a mark and give him proof of this torrid affair in the morning. The hands had never left marks. Never given him anything but grief.

And great orgasms.

Though...They'd been empty. And he'd always been alone after. In hindsight, he'd much rather prefer a hot sweaty body coming down from the high right next to him, proving the physical act to be real, than just having meaningless pleasure that left him cold.

The boy was snaking down his body, kissing his stomach through his shirt and making dramatic moaning noises that overplayed the actual sensuality of the event. It was rather annoying.

Just as he rolled his eyes and was about to say something, anything, to make the annoyance stop, the boy cut off with a choked croak. He glanced down and tried to figure out just what exactly his bedmate was trying to do now, but then he caught sight of the boy's eyes.

They were wide with surprise and fear and he was clawing at his neck frantically. Like there, was something wrapped around them. Suddenly, he screamed, or tried to, but what came out was a high-pitched cry, cut off almost as soon as it started.

Oh holy...The boy was lifted away from him, actually lifted off of him, as if by some unseen assailant.

The hands! Oh god! They were strangling the boy! That's what was happening! And...He didn't know what to do to make it stop!

Scrambling off the bed and to his feet, he...just stood there. He didn't know what to do! What could he do?! Even as he stepped forward and tried to grab at the poor choking boy, the hands pulled him away, choking him more.

“Stop it!” He cried, wringing his hands nervously. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be. But the sight of his potential lover's face growing blue was a testament to the reality of the situation. Holy shit, this meant that he wasn't just imagining his phantom lover. This meant it was real. Frighteningly real. “Stop! Please! You're killing him!”

The boy was abruptly hurled across the room, landing loudly against the far wall and knocking over a bookcase as he fell to the floor. All was quiet for a few moments, then the front door was flung open and they both whirled to it in worried anticipation. But nothing further happened, and suddenly the boy he'd brought home staggered to his feet and sprinted clumsily out that door, half-screaming and mostly choking as his body banged into the door frame. Then he was gone and the door slammed itself shut.

He was left alone now. With the hands that had gone crazy. Hands that tried to kill the stranger he'd wanted to have sex with.

He huddled around himself, face behind his hands and his breaths sharp with fear. The hands would kill him. They'd almost killed the other guy. Now they would get him. His phantom would hurt him, kill him, make him no more.

But, it'd be better than the aching living loneliness. Perhaps. Maybe he would prefer death. It was appealing enough at least to make him lift his head cautiously to the empty room.

Hands on his face, caressing, gentle, loving.

He didn't want 'loving'!

He swatted them away. “No!” He shrieked, flailing and hitting nothing. “You don't get to! I'm not yours!” His breath came quick and harsh now, laced with an underlying rage and promise of tears. “This is not your property! And you are nothing but a figment of my imagination! And I am done with you!”

The hands came again, faster and more insistent, trying to grab at his neck. But he just slapped them away again. “No! I said no! Hurt me! Kill me! Choke the life from me!” A shattering of his voice. “But please...please...No more.”

Nothing. No hands, no presence. Alone?

“No more loving touches. Please...” Sobbing again. “I don't want to feel it and then have nothing! You come and make it...make it so good...and sweet, and then you leave! Leave me all alone! I don't want it! I don't want...I don't want...” It hit him like a lightning bolt and he gasped. “I don't want you to leave me anymore!”

Still nothing. Nothing and more nothing. He resigned himself to despair and hung his head.

Suddenly, the hands landed firmly on his shoulders and he jerked his head up as he felt himself shoved backwards. With wide eyes, he watched as the bed near his knees dipped, and there was also a furrow pressed near his head. Like...almost like someone was...kneeling over him and bracing themselves one one arm. The hand print near his head deepened as if someone were leaning forward now, and suddenly, there was heat near his face.

“Jacob...”

He gasped as he heard his name, more of a breath than words, puffed against the shell of his ear. It seemed to warm his entire body from just that one soft sound. It made his eyes slip shut as gentle lips kissed his cheek, trailing along the bottom side of his jaw and chin, then slowly moving up to land on his mouth.

The kiss was chaste, barely any pressure, yet it made him ache deep inside as if he'd already come. Reaching up with shaking arms, he cautiously rested his palms along the pointed shoulder blades on the back of his phantom, almost afraid it would all disappear if he pressed too hard.

But that warm skin, so much like his own except for being invisible, stayed firm. Stayed tangible. Stayed real under his trembling, exploring fingers. “Oh my god...” His heart was hammering as he kept questing over that hitherto untouchable skin. Down that broad back and curving in on a small waist. Almost feminine in its shape. Then down further to slim hips as well. “Well...you're definitely a boy then.” He joked weakly, bringing his hands forward to press palms to a flat stomach, and then sliding up to a hot chest. As his fingertips grazed a nipple, he heard a sharp hiss of air from the phantom, and the sound made his whole body flush. “Y-You like that?” It was good, oh god, so good, to hear the phantom pleasured. Even that soft quiet hitch of breath had him roaring inside, a fire in his stomach that made him slightly crazed. He reached up and bravely grabbed hold of the phantom's sides, yanking down onto his body.

Another sound of surprise, a grunt, and hot panting on his face. It was all so good. He hadn't even been touched yet, and he was so close to that tight pressure that promised release. His next wish was to touch the phantom's face, to feel it and know what his...phantom looked like.

Then again...He hesitated, teetering on the edge on reluctance. Did it matter what the phantom looked like? Did it change the breathless shivering way he felt whenever they were near?

No.

But he wasn't given a choice as his hand was gripped and lifted, his fingers brought to a soft cheek, a small dimple down near the mouth, and soft soft lips that were smiling. His finger was sucked inside a hot wet mouth, and lightly sucked on and it was enough sweet stimulation to have his head falling back onto the mattress and his hips inching up into that newly discovered body.

A not-so-unknown something pressed into his hip, digging in and leaving a small wet spot soaking through his work pants. Why was he wearing clothes? Oh, right. He'd gone straight to the bars after work, picked up the first guy who'd hit on him, and then come straight home. It had all been so cheap. He raised his head up and brought his lips to where his finger was being made love to, and then he kissed over that space, successfully connecting to those soft lips. It was an apology kiss.

“I'm sorry. He didn't mean a thing to me. I was just so...So alone and scared and you hadn't come in so long, and I thought I was alone. But...it was even worse when you came and then left because...I always felt so...abandoned.” His finger was released, but his hand was kept hold of and lips pressed to his palm.

A kiss of acceptance? Acceptance of his apology? Maybe. It was still hard to decipher his phantom's mode of speech.

Wait...Could the phantom speak? “Can you speak?”

A sensed hesitation, then he felt that head pressed to his palm give a simple shake. No, then. Whatever had allowed the phantom to speak his name, was merely fleeting perhaps. And maybe it could happen again, but...For now, this was enough. This pressing of body to invisible body. True, his eyes didn't know where to look, but...

Wait, he could fix that. “Hang on. Let me up for a sec, don't leave, don't go anywhere, I'll be right back.” And he rose up, scooting to the edge of the bed and standing, then flicking the lightswitch and throwing the room into darkness. Now things were even. The invisible lover couldn't see him either. Supposedly.

Groping forward blindly, he felt a hand grab onto his own and pull him, lead him forward back to the bed and he was guiding down to the mattress.

The weight on his chest returned and lips were once again on his own, kissing him lightly, reverently, lovingly, every sweet emotion that the hands had conveyed in previous visits equally translated through lips, teeth, and tongue. He had never been kissed so good in all his life. And it made him want. Deep down, all he could do was want.

With his hands growing bolder, he explored more, letting his fingers roam over his phantom's skin. He could see now, see with his hands, see the texture of that body and feel the way it looked with his fingertips trailing over every ridge and hollow.

As he discovered new places to tickle or grip, the phantom's hands started to undress him, quickly and efficiently laying him bare in minutes. Down to his underwear, which was pulled off slowly and teasingly down his twisting legs. His skin was hot. Hot and so sensitive and he almost came just from the sudden hot breath on his bared cock.

The phantom was panting still, excitement audible and making him even more aroused from just the sound.

“God yes...Please...Please...”

Shockingly hot wetness enveloped his cock, taking him deep into a phantom mouth, and he keened, arching off the bed and moaning brokenly. His phantom had never done that before, never taken him past lips and sucked on him. Only ever hands and fingers, and now a mouth and body. And more. He knew there was more. Managing to find his voice, he groaned. “M-Make love to me, please? I want more...more than just hands.”

Sadly, that hot mouth left him, a slick sound as he was released, then a kiss on his stomach and chest. His legs were moved apart and two slick fingers were lowered to his portal, swirling at the puckered skin for a moment then slipping inside.

“Ah! Oh god, please yes!”

Where did that moisture come from? How did his phantom slide into him so easily? It didn't matter, he decided. All that mattered was that he wanted something bigger. Now.

“I don't care if I'm ready, I want you!” He wailed, hugging tight to unseen shoulders. “Please, inside me! I want you inside me! Please!”

The fingers carefully pulled free of him and his mouth was once again captured by soft lips, a tongue tasting slightly salty from his own skin thrust into his mouth and a firm quick thrust of hips into his, burying a hard thickness deep inside him.

“Yes! Oh god, yes! Please!” He didn't know what he was even begging for anymore, but it didn't even matter as his phantom started thrusting into him, not as gentle as everything else he'd done. But quick, unexperienced thrusts that still had him arching and gasping, a building wave of pressure coiling in his gut.

Then, all too soon, the phantom was heaving hot breaths into his ear, gasps and soft unspoken words, and he felt something hot and wet inside, where the phantom was still buried.

One of the phantom's hands reached between them, familiar palm and fingers circling his cock and stroking him, even as the length kept slowly pumping into his body. The duel feelings had him reaching his peak quickly, moaning his own release and coating that hand holding his erection with his seed. Then, an exhausted body collapsed onto him, a face burying into his collarbone.

That certainly had been short. And...unrefined. He wondered. “Did I...Did I just de-virginize you?” He asked out-of-breath, a goofy wide grin on his lips at the possibility.

The phantom's head on his shoulder nodded slowly, lips reverently kissing his neck.

“Well...I...I'm glad. It was...very good.” And that was true. Though short and somewhat unskilled, their lovemaking had made him come harder than he could ever remember experiencing. And now that he had a warm quivering body in his arms, he felt not only satisfaction, but fulfillment as well. A warmth in his chest. A happiness.

The phantom suddenly shifted though, and all his fears came flying back, reducing him to his unsure, scared self in moments. He hugged tighter. “No...Don't...Please don't...leave me...Please. I can't...I can't be alone again. I don't want you to go. Stay?” His words were soft and trembling, but he managed to get them out, every emotion stacked in each syllable.

Now, he waited. What if...Would his phantom leave and never come back because they'd actually had sex?

No. His phantom kept hold of him and only snuggled closer. And...he had a feeling that his phantom would be there come morning. And that was all he could ask for.

He wasn't alone anymore.

TO BE CONTINUED