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Having a ghost for a roommate has its pros and cons.
On the plus side, he isn’t messy. That’s a welcome change from the crumbs-on-the-floor, no-regard-for-cleaning-shared-spaces of your first year roommate. The space never feels cramped either, on account of him being, y’know, immaterial. He won’t wake you up early because he has class or keep you up late blasting music.
The biggest downside is that you never have privacy. He’s always there, present even if not actively visible. You’re never truly alone in your bedroom, which can get really, really annoying. Especially when you’re a college student that would like to do private, adult activities from time to time.
You may have found your year one roommate insufferable, but at least she would occasionally leave whenever she’d visit her parents. With Morro though, he can never leave. He’s cursed to haunt this room, and even though he says he won’t look when you do… unsavory things, you’ll still know that he’s there. You’d rather not make your hook-up into an unknowing exhibitionist.
Usually, this just means you go over to the other person’s place, but luck was not on your side today. The guy you’d met lives with his parents and couldn’t have you over, so you had to make up some excuse about your very real, very temporal roommate that you share a double with. Saying “Sorry, we can’t have sex in my room because the ghost that haunts it will be watching” is an easy way to never get a second date, so you always have to come up with a lie.
You’re not someone who’s desperate for sex. You’re normally very rational. It’s just that this guy was really hot and you’re so sick of the involuntary dry spell you’ve been in recently.
That’s why you use much more force than necessary to fling open your bedroom door, letting it bang against the wall before you kick it closed behind you. Hopefully the roommate in the single next to you isn’t home. You’re being loud, but you’re angry, and being aggressive is helping take some of that edge off.
Morro appears before you as soon as the door slams shut. He floats for a second before touching the floor, as translucent and green as ever. He looks more awake than usual. The bags under his eyes are still very pronounced, but there’s a bit of light to him. By ghost standards, he’s looking decently solid. Seeing that pisses you off more.
“How was your date?” Morro asks, sounding genuinely curious. His eyebrows are raised—he can definitely tell that something’s off with you, but he’s not sure how to handle it.
You let your bag fall to the floor. “Good,” you grit out, moving to stand in front of the mirror. Even though your annoyance is written all over your face, you look nice. You’d put effort into your appearance because of the date, but now the guy is probably going to think you weren’t that interested and not text you back. In a twisted stroke of irony, seeing how good you look is irritating you.
You start removing your accessories and haphazardly tossing them onto your desk. That’s a problem for later, when you’re in a better headspace. Or maybe Morro will clean it for you, like the other times you’ve gotten him to do you favors in place of verbal apologies. Taking responsibility for his actions is not his strong suit.
Morro stands behind you, watching you change. Even when he’s not hovering, he’s still a bit taller than you. “Are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know.” You pull your hair out of the way and gesture for Morro to help you get the dress off. A faint chill comes up behind you and you feel a tug on the zipper.
You turn back around to face him as you pull the zipper the rest of the way down, letting the straps of the dress fall down your arms. Morro watches you undress with disinterest. He’s seen it enough times.
When he first revealed himself to you and you realized he’d seen everything—and you mean everything—you’d done in this room, you hadn’t taken it well. Who would? Everytime you’d undressed, masturbated, and had sex, you’d unknowingly had a voyeur. It took a lot of freaked-out yelling before you’d calmed down enough to hear Morro out.
In hindsight, there wasn’t a reason for him to have talked you down from filing a room change request. If he had let you run out the door, he wouldn’t have had to endure the accusations of “pervert” and “creep” that you slung at him. He could have had the room to himself, or at least had a clean slate to introduce himself to whoever moved in before they falsely assumed they were alone. You certainly didn’t make it easy for him to earn your forgiveness.
Eventually, though, you did get over the voyeurism of it all. You don’t masturbate or fuck in the room anymore (that feels like crossing a threshold), but you’re fine with him seeing you naked. You’d been undressing around women since middle school, and even though Morro’s a guy, he’s a very… dead guy. In the sense that he’s non-threatening and doesn’t see nude bodies as anything more than bodies.
You don’t fully understand why he’s completely unfazed at the sight of you naked, but you’ve grown comfortable around him. In a way, it’s a lot like having a stay-at-home boyfriend, minus the romance. You’ll keep that thought to yourself, though. Morro wouldn’t take well to any kind of domesticity. He’s kind of like a cat.
Morro looks at you like he expects you to elaborate, but you just brush past him, at least still having the courtesy to avoid making him phase through you like he doesn’t exist. You know he didn’t ask to be cursed to haunt this room. It’s not his fault, and you shouldn’t take your frustration out on him over something so trivial. Unfortunately for the both of you, you’re not thinking logically right now. You’re angry and you’re horny, and the two are a terrible combination.
You flop face first onto your bed and let out a long groan into the sheets. You’re only wearing a bra and your underwear, so Morro has a view of everything, but you know neither of you care.
The air chills to your left as he floats beside you. “I thought it went good?”
You pound a fist into the mattress, then use it to push yourself up so you can look at him. You’re acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum, but everything today has boiled over to make you into a hurtling projectile of unbridled annoyance. “It did. And that’s the problem.”
He looks at you like you’re crazy, and you probably are, but Morro of all people has no right to be judging you like that.
Your fingers curl into the sheets. “It was going so well.” You’re getting angry just thinking about it. “He was so hot, and we were having a good conversation. There was something, I don’t know… it was easy to talk to him.”
That’s not exactly a rarity, but you’d been texting this guy on Hinge for over a week before you decided to meet up. You were really anticipating this, but he neglected to mention he was living with his parents. You get why—he was probably insecure about how that would be perceived—but being blindsided by that really threw a wrench in your plans. You don’t want to say that you wouldn’t have met up with him if you knew sex wasn’t going to be possible, but… it probably would have been a significant deciding factor.
You push yourself up onto the bed, growing more heated. “And then he asked me if we could go to my place because we couldn’t go to his, and I had to say no and make up some bullshit reason. So now he’s gonna think I’m not interested, and I fumbled a cute guy, and now I have to go back on that stupid dating app until I find another one that isn’t a total creep.” Your blood boils just imagining returning to that endless cycle of swiping, only matching with the people you were less interested in and dealing with shitty pickup lines.
You can’t expect Morro to fully understand. It's different for guys. Plus, he’s pretty. Or at least he looks like he was pretty when he was alive. Pretty enough for girls in his classes to have hit on him. Pretty enough to not have to resort to scrolling through his camera roll to find a picture that makes him look good, but not unrealistically good, to put on his dating profile. You really don’t want to go back to that.
The bed sags the tiniest bit as Morro makes himself just physical enough to sit on it. He’s trying to comfort you, you think, in his own way. His shoulders rise and fall in a small shrug. “I don’t care if you have sex in this room.”
“But I do!” you say louder than you should. Your poor roommate that shares the wall with you. You really hope she isn’t here. “I don’t want you watching. I don’t care that you’ve been dead for God knows how long and it’s different to you, because it’s not to me.”
Morro’s long hair swishes as he shakes his head. “I won’t watch.”
He doesn’t get it. “You’ll still be here.” You don’t know how to properly articulate why it’s a problem to him. You bury your face into your hands, pressing your fingers against your closed eyelids. “It’s just weird, and… ugh.”
You flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Morro watches you. You’re not wearing clothes, which should make it hard to take you seriously at this moment, but since it’s just him, it doesn’t matter.
The next words out of your mouth are impulsive. If you’d taken a second to think, you wouldn’t have said it, but rationality isn’t on the table right now.
“I wish you could just leave.”
You can practically see the way Morro physically bristles at that. Alarm bells go off in your head. You’ve struck a nerve in him, one you’ve hit before, and it’s a topic you’ve found to be impossible to resolve.
“You think I don’t want to?” His voice steadily gets louder. “You think I want to sit here and listen to your bullshit every night?”
“My bullshit?” you scoff. You sit up again, the bed creaking under your weight in a way it won’t for Morro. “It’s your fault I’m in this situation in the first place.”
The expression on his face could only be described as cruel. “I don’t think it’s my fault you can’t get dicked down for the life of you.”
“Wha-“ You gape at Morro. “Fuck you!”
His tongue darts out a millisecond before he bites his lower lip. “You fucking wish you could.”
You lean across the bed to grab a pillow and chuck it at him. Infuriatingly, Morro doesn’t even flinch as it phases though him.
You’re angry and embarrassed and horny now. “You’re gross,” you spit. He rolls his eyes obnoxiously, clearly not taking you seriously. Your face and body grow hotter. “You’re just mad you can’t even get your dick wet. You’re projecting onto me.”
“Oh, come on.” Morro lolls his head to the side. “You know I’d be getting plenty if I was alive.”
“But you’re not!” Your mouth is moving faster than your brain. You’re too upset to care. “You’re dead, Morro. You’re always going to be dead. And in case you didn’t notice, I’m still alive. I want to live my fucking life without having to deal with the consequences of your stupid actions.”
Morro isn’t as relaxed now, the edges of his outline sharper, his body less transparent. His eyebrows are furrowed at you as he glares. You’re going too far. Deep down, you know it, but you’re not stopping yourself.
“I-“ You point at yourself with a shaking finger, “-have done nothing wrong. I’m a good fucking person. I shouldn’t have to put up with you every day.”
“You think I want to be stuck here?!” Morro shouts, eyes ablaze. He looks wild. You’d be scared if you weren’t certain he’d never actually hurt you. He’s not that dumb. “You think I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world than the room that I fucking died in?”
The pang of empathy you feel isn’t enough to dissuade your anger. “Okay? I’m sorry? What am I supposed to do about that?”
Morro just stares at you for a second, then lets out a stunned laugh. “You’re unbelievable,” he snarls.
“Sorry.” You roll your eyes. He’s acting like you’re the difficult one. ”I guess I’m the worst person ever for just wanting to get laid.”
”If you’re really that desperate, I’ll fuck you.”
… What?
You didn’t hear that right. There’s no way you heard that right. He spoke so casually, like he was making a completely ordinary suggestion.
Your mouth opens and closes dumbly as you try to reconcile what he just said with the argument you’ve been having. Eventually, you’re able to get out a “huh?”
Morro shrugs and looks off to the side, but it’s obviously feigned nonchalance. “If you’re really that desperate to have sex, I can fuck you.”
You tilt your head skeptically. “I don’t think you’re capable of that.”
He glares at you. “What, do you think I’m a virgin?”
“No, I know you’re not,” you say, shaking your head. Morro raises his eyebrows at that. “You were a hot emo college guy. I know you’ve fucked. But…”
Your stroke of his ego has him smirking with pride. “But what?”
“Well. You’re a ghost.” You look Morro up and down. He’s attractive, sure, for a dead person. You won’t deny that. If you can look past his translucence and the green hue of his entire body, you can see the man he once was. His shoulder-length dark hair and sunken eyes make him look like the kind of guy you’d crush on and never speak a word to. Which would be for the better, because Morro’s personality is awful.
He’s abrasive. Bratty. You’d complained about his music choice once and he got all pouty and disappeared on you for hours. The quiet was nice for a little while, but it quickly became annoying. Morro is always in the room, even when you can’t see him, and the negative energy was not welcome. After being stuck on the same assignment for far too long because you were too frustrated to concentrate, you broke down and apologized to him. The smug look on his face when he reappeared made you wish he was corporeal if only to smack it off him.
But he’s not corporeal. He can interact with the physical world in small ways, but he doesn’t exist in the traditional sense. Before Morro revealed himself to you, there were a bunch of little things. Random gusts of wind would fly by you even when every window was closed. You’d come home to find items out of place when you were positive you remembered where you put them. You’d hallucinate the sound of another person breathing when you tried to go to sleep. All of it clustered together to make you really, really hate being in your room. Knowing that it’s him now makes it a little better.
Yes, Morro can touch you, but it’s different. His touches are light, not quite fully there. From what he’s told you about being a ghost, it seems like he can only interact with the material world when he concentrates all his power to certain parts of his body. That’s how he’s able to grab things for the express purpose of fucking around with you.
So in that respect, there’s no physically possible way he can fuck you. His dick, even if it is functional, won’t be solid enough to stay inside of you. Maybe there is some eroticism in having a ghost phase in and out of you, but that’s not the kind of filling up you’re craving right now.
And anyways, it’s Morro, your ever-present ghost roommate. Having sex with him would irreversibly alter your relationship, and you can’t exactly avoid him if things get awkward. Logically, it’s a bad idea all around.
Morro’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. His tone is casual, like he’s suggesting what to eat for dinner and not a total upheaval to the dynamic the two of you have built up over the past few months. “That doesn’t mean I can’t fuck you.”
You shift on the bed. You can’t believe you’re considering this. You shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea, but damn it, you’re curious. “Can your dick get hard if you don’t have blood?”
He’s smirking with that annoying, over-confident smirk that makes you feel violent. “Do you want to find out?”
You don’t know how to answer that. Cause honestly, yeah, you kinda do. Even though it’s Morro. Or maybe because it’s him. But at the same time, it’s just such a bad idea. But at the same same time, you’re so horny and desperate and fuck it, if he’s got a trick up his sleeve, you’ll grasp at the threads.
Morro can tell you’re interested. The fact that you haven’t immediately shut him down is evidence enough.
The control over him that you’ve meticulously constructed is slipping through your fingers at an alarmingly fast rate.
“Okay,” you say, surprising yourself with how calmly it comes out. Morro, on the other hand, doesn’t look at all caught off-guard. He could tell you were going to cave.
“Okay,” you repeat, reassuring yourself more than anything. “How would this work?”
Morro doesn’t give you an answer immediately. Instead, he floats past you, heading for the dresser parallel to your bed. He bends down to the bottom drawer and uses one finger to slide it open. You watch as he reaches in and pulls out-
Your mouth drops open. Morro is holding the purple rabbit vibrator you’d bought yourself during your first year out of… curiosity. Not desperation. You’d held onto it because it worked damn good. And maybe you’d used it a time or two (or ten) since moving into your haunted room, unaware that there was a ghost watching you all the while.
Of course he’d known where you kept it. Pervert.
“You’re kidding.” You’re too stunned buy the prospect of Morro fucking you with a vibrator to even levy any accusation at him.
Morro presses a button on the vibrator and it buzzes to life. You watch it shudder in his transparent hand, knowing he’s exerting just enough power to maintain a grip.
It’s… doable. You’d never thought about it before, but Morro clearly has. He’s able to interact with the physical world just enough to be able to hold an object. You doubt he could actually fuck you, what with the ghost dick and all, but something like this could honestly work.
God. The horniness is taking over your brain. There’s no way you’re seriously considering this.
“Well?” Morro asks, but you can tell from his tone that he already knows your answer. “You wanna try?”
You close your eyes. It’s a bad idea. It’s a terrible idea, even, but when else are you going to get the opportunity to have sex with a ghost? It’s not like you naked is something he hasn’t seen before. “Fuck it. Why not?”
There are a million reasons you shouldn’t do this. Morro isn’t a good person, and you shouldn’t let assholes between your legs. If this changes your relationship, you’ll have to live with that for the rest of the school year. If it doesn’t work, both of you are just going to be pissy all over again.
But somehow, every one of those reasons pales in comparison to the glint of mischief in Morro’s dead eyes.
He thumbs the power button to shut the vibe off and places it onto the bed. You look down at it, then back up at him.
Morro jerks his head at you. “Lie down.”
Hesitantly, you swing your legs onto the bed, then scoot up until your back hits the pillows. You keep your legs pressed together.
Morro crawls onto the bottom of the bed, though it’s more for show. The sheets hardly wrinkle from his lack of weight. He looks up at you though long, parted hair. “That’s not lying down.”
That’s true, but you’d feel weird lying on your back. That’s a little too much vulnerability. “I’m not really used to-“
“Yeah, I’m sure.” The corner of Morro’s mouth is twisted up in amusement. You can’t even tell what he’s trying to insinuate.
“You don’t even…” You stop yourself from trying to argue. There’s no need to upset the person offering you an orgasm right now. Instead, you sigh, allowing Morro to claim some small victory. Your dignity around him went away a long time ago.
Morro’s eyes trail down your body with less disinterest than usual. You have to resist the impulse to press your thighs together tighter, knowing he’d notice.
“Open your legs.”
“Um.” You hesitate. You know you’ll have to eventually, but baring yourself before him willingly feels intensely lewd. You hadn’t thought about it before, but him not being able to touch you means you just have to keep doing as he says. The dynamic that creates is downright kinky, even though it’s out of necessity.
Morro frowns down at you. “Do it.”
Slowly, you comply, letting your knees separate and fall to the sides. It’s not the most exposing position ever, and all your private parts are still covered, but having Morro watch and command you like this is oddly erotic.
It’s different from the passionate, lust-filled fuck sessions you’re used to. Sex is desperation. It’s hours of enduring a mediocre date let out into a quick, blissful, mutually beneficial release. It’s fast and needy and hot and sweaty and not… this.
Goosebumps prickle along your skin as Morro moves in closer to you, taking a position in between your legs. The room is cold. He’s cold. Not having the warmth of another body and instead being accompanied by the chill of a ghost is an entirely different sensation, though not an unwelcome one.
“Good.”
Your heart picks up just the smallest amount. Praise is nice, even if it’s coming from him. Unfortunately for you, this man has rather extensive knowledge on all of your kinks thanks to all the times he watched you get off. That made for relentless teasing a few months ago, but if he’s feeling generous today, perhaps that can work out to your benefit.
“Y-you’re not gonna make me call you daddy or anything weird, right?” You halfheartedly try to joke, because this mood is too much. It’s too heavy and serious, and that feels dangerous.
“Ew. No.” Morro’s transparent fingers wrap around the vibrator as he lifts it back up. “You’re the freak that’s into that, not me.”
You laugh through your nose. “Shut up. You don’t—“
Whatever you were going to say dies in your throat as Morro presses the bulb of the vibrator an inch below your belly button. The texture of the silicone is cold against your skin, but more than anything, it’s solid. More solid than Morro’s fingers could ever be. It’s at that very moment, that first contact, that a beautiful and horrifying realization strikes you: this could actually work.
You were more curious than actually aroused before, but that little touch makes something shift. You’re excited. Your heart beats faster, mouth running dry in anticipation. Morro moves the vibe just the smallest amount downward and your pussy twitches.
Shit. Your body is a little too excited about this. You’ll blame your earlier date with that guy for your arousal, because attributing it to anything else raises concerns. Like, being attracted to a dead guy concerns. Which you’re not. You can’t be.
Morro slides the vibe further downward, letting it rest atop your underwear. He’s not pressing very hard; he hasn’t given you anything of substance yet. Such gentleness would be uncharacteristic of him if you didn’t know that he was teasing you. You deserve it, probably, considering how much of an ass you were being earlier.
Morro moves the vibe up and back down, still testing the waters. You let out an impatient huff, much to his amusement.
He locks eyes with you. ”What is it?”
You raise your eyebrows at him in challenge. “I thought you said you were going to fuck me?”
Morro presses the bulkiest part of the vibe against your clit suddenly, harshly, and your breath catches in your throat. He’s cruel.
He rubs it there a couple times, hard enough for you to feel the device pressing against your pelvic bone.”I don’t think you get to make demands right now.”
“I’m just saying,” You’re starting to feel it, the little jolt of pleasure every time he presses against your nerves just so, but you hide behind a mask of boredom. “I thought you were going to fuck me. So far, I’m not impressed.”
He scoffs, still pressing the part of the vibe against you but not turning it on. ”You think I’ll just give it to you?”
Of course he won’t. You know Morro. He’s not going to give you what you want easily. He’s annoying like that. If you give him any ounce of power over you, he’ll stretch it as far as he can.
You have to fight to keep your voice level, though every twitch of your thighs betrays how just this small act is affecting you. ”Well, what do you want me to do?”
Morro leans over you. Even though he’s transparent, you get the sensation that you’re being caged in. “Ask me.” He speaks in a low whisper. “Tell me that you want me to fuck you like this, and maybe I’ll consider it.”
You glare at him even as your pussy clenches around nothing at his tone. “You’re an asshole.”
Morro retracts the vibrator and you almost whimper from the lack of friction. He’s proving your point, but you’ve learned your lesson. Upsetting him means he’ll stop, and that’s the last thing in the world you want right now.
”Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” You hate apologizing to Morro. Rarely does he ever deserve to hear it, but you don’t have much of a choice. ”You’re not an asshole. You’re the nicest person ever.”
You both know that’s a lie.
Morro takes your apology, though. The bulk of the vibrator comes to rest against your covered clit again. “Tell me,” he repeats.
Shit. “Fuck, Morro. I…” You can’t. It’s too embarrassing.
”What happened to your words?” Morro’s expression is one of sadistic joy. “That mouth of yours usually has plenty.”
”Fuck you. Fuck-“ You duck your head to hide your face. Your pride is too strong to let you look him in the eyes. When you speak next, you keep your voice so quiet it’s almost inaudible. “Please fuck me.”
“What? What did you say?”
Asshole. You know he heard you. ”Fuck you. Just fuck me already.”
By no means did you ask nicely, but it’s good enough. Morro keeps the vibrator where it is and thumbs the power button.
Low vibrations shudder against your clit and have you sputtering out whispered curses. Your eyes snap shut as your body shakes from the sudden and direct stimulation.
He’s not even doing it right. The bigger part is supposed to slide inside of you and the tiny appendage at the top goes against your clit. That’s the whole appeal of the rabbit thing. If you didn’t care for penetration, you would’ve just gotten a wand.
Unfortunately, you do care for penetration. A lot. That’s why there’s a dildo in that same drawer Morro pulled the vibrator from. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t know about that one, though, since you never really use it. Fucking yourself with a dildo doesn’t give as good of an orgasm as this vibrator does.
As you get accustomed to the sensation, you crack your eyes open. Morro’s concentration is rapt between your legs, even though there’s not much to see. It’s not like being a ghost gives him x-ray vision. You’ve still got your underwear on.
He notices you looking at him. “Good?”
“Yeah, but you’re supposed to…” You lose your train of thought when Morro tilts the vibrator downwards, causing it to cover more surface area. The larger part is still against your clit, but it also rests against your pussy lips. “… um…”
“I know how vibrators work, dummy.” Morro pushes the device harder against you. The vibrations are stronger like this, but they’re still not enough. “I’m not that old.”
Your hips buck up into the vibrator at the reminder that yeah, Morro’s older than you, and you have no idea by how many years. “Good to know you’re not that much of a creep.”
He scoffs. “You wouldn’t like that?”
“No.“ His knowledge of your kinks is extensive enough for him to know whether you’re lying. You can see him smile to himself as he rubs the device up and down, teasing. It’s so good, but you’re greedy. You need more. “God, fuck. Morro, please.”
Morro turns the vibrator off. You could almost scream from the agony of having that stimulation taken away from you. “Please what?”
You groan. He’s so infuriating, but you’re done bullshitting. “Please put it inside of me.”
“You’re really bad at being patient.” Morro slides the vibrator lower, far enough down that it’s no longer touching your clit. Instead, the head rests against where your opening is over your underwear.
He takes a moment to rub the vibrator up and down your opening. Your underwear has grown slick, your arousal having thoroughly soaked through the fabric.
Morro must be able to tell by the way the silicone meets less resistance, since he breathes out a “God damn, you’re so fuckin’ wet.”
You want to retort with an excuse, but you know the attempt to save face would be useless. All his teasing is having an effect on you.
Morro stops moving the vibrator up and down and instead tilts it, mimicking the angle it would be at for him to slide it inside of you. He has to change his grip in order to do so, holding the handle the opposite way, like pulling a lever. The rabbit part rests against your clit with the two little ears caging it in. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re into this.”
“Into you? I’m not—oh.” The last word comes out dumb, but you can’t help it. You weren’t ready for or expecting Morro to switch the vibrator back on, but now he’s got the small part pressed on your clit while the larger one thrums against your covered opening. The vibrations are much stronger like this, so much more precise and concentrated.
“Wait.” Your fingers curl into the bedsheets. “S-shit. Fuck. That feels really good.”
“I think,” Morro breathes, keeping the vibrator where it is even as you twitch and writhe, “That you’re a little fuckin’ liar.”
“Fuck.“ You grit your teeth. It feels really good. You need it inside of you. “About what?”
He bites his lip, looking you up and down. “I think you’re way more into me than you’re willing to admit.”
“Nuh-uh.” You frantically shake your head. Your hips involuntarily lift up to press closer to the vibrator, chasing the sparks of pleasure the clitoral simulation is giving you.
Morro notices your desperation. “Nuh-uh?”
“Nuh-uh,” you repeat. “I think I hate you, actually.”
A cold hand presses your waist down to the bed as Morro turns up the vibrator’s intensity. “Exactly.”
The ears surrounding your clit pick up in their vibrations, stimulating every nerve in the bud. All you can do is gasp and moan as tremors of pleasure wrack through your body. It’s so much, just teetering on the precipice of too much, and the sensation is so intense that you can barely think.
You could honestly cum from this. The eroticism of having Morro, of all people, do this to you combined with the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator against your clit is driving you surprisingly close to the edge already. Cumming had been the mission going into this, but you want more. You get the sense that Morro wants more too.
But, hell, you’re not gonna ask him to stop right now. Not when it feels this good, not when you can feel yourself getting close.
You slide the back of your index finger in between your lips, biting down on it to stop yourself from moaning too loud. You don’t trust yourself to keep quiet. Morro maintains his grip on you, not letting up the pressure on your clit either. The large bulb pressed against your opening is positively tantalizing. If only your underwear wasn’t there. It would be so easy for him to slide it inside of you and use the vibrator to its fullest potential.
Morro adjusts his hold on the device, studying your face. His eyes meet yours and you can see the telltale signs of a shit-eating grin threatening to break out onto his face. “You’re so quiet. I should do this more often.”
He’s only teasing you, making a jab at how this whole argument started—and damn, how that derailed—but the insinuation that Morro wants this to happen again has you squeezing your eyes together and bucking your hips into the vibrator. You’re close. If he keeps this up and keeps talking to you like that, you might cum.
You take your finger out of your mouth just to say “You should.”
Morro pauses. He’s stopped pressing the vibrator against you, and after a second, it turns off. You open your eyes to look down at him.
Morro is holding the toy and looking at you with… something in his gaze. His eyes are sharp, but it’s not a glare. You can’t quite tell what he’s thinking.
You take your hand away from your mouth. “Why’d you stop?”
“Do you mean it?” Morro asks. In your pre-orgasm haze, it takes you a second to understand what he’s referring to. Do you mean you’d want to do this again?
That’s… strange. His tone seems almost hopeful. It’s not like he’s getting anything out of this, and you didn’t think he found you sexually attractive, so there isn’t really a good reason for him to want you to want this so bad. Maybe it comes from some deep-rooted craving for validation that rests inside of him, or a need to prove that he’s capable of doing this to you.
“I dunno,” you say, even though you know that’s not the answer Morro wants to hear. “We’ll see how good this orgasm is.”
It’s a challenge, and you know he could never resist one of those.
Morro uses his free hand to hook one green finger through the band of your underwear. You shiver from the eerie cold of him against your skin. “Take it off.”
You quickly pull the scrap of fabric off of you. The mess you’ve made inside your underwear leaves a streak of wetness against your thigh in your haste. You toss it to the floor—an issue for later—and reassume your previous position, legs spread open and willing.
Morro comes back to hover over you. The chill that follows him cools the wet mark on your leg. He brings the vibrator to the position it had been in earlier, with the rabbit ears around your clit and the bulb at your opening. Without your underwear separating you from the device, you can feel the cool texture of the silicone against your skin. There’s nothing stopping Morro from pushing the vibrator inside of you now. It would be so easy. You’re so wet. It would just slide right in.
He doesn’t do it, though. He just waits. Like you thought, he’s not going to give you what you want easily.
You shoot him a look. “Get on with it.”
Morro doesn’t budge. “Since I’m doing you such a huge favor, you should be more thankful.”
He’s so annoying. Insufferable, even. You can’t believe you’re letting him anywhere near your vagina, but desperate times have you making desperate decisions. Hell if you’re going to get sweet on him now, though.
You move your hips in an attempt to get the vibrator to slide just the littlest bit inside you, but Morro moves it with you. You relax back into the mattress in defeat. ”What, am I meant to grovel at your feet?”
“That would be a good look on you.” There it is again, that indecipherable look in his eye. You have to hold yourself back from your tenth “fuck you” of the night.
You don’t have anything to say to that otherwise, so you use silence as a protest. You’re not going to let Morro get the better of you. You’re not going to give him any power over you.
“Go on,” Morro urges. “Tell me, what is it that you want?”
He’s looking at you expectantly, his full attention on you, waiting for you to beg him to fuck you. There’s no way you can bring yourself to do that. It’s Morro. You’re not going to beg for him. Submitting to him in any form seems like opening up a can of worms, and you’re not sure where his slimy little ideas might go. You need to maintain control.
You and Morro lock eyes. “I want you,” you start, voice strong, “to hurry up and fuck me before I just do it myself.”
You barely have time to glimpse Morro’s reaction before he’s driving the device inside of you and turning it on. Even with how wet you’d gotten, the initial penetration still stings. That pain is immediately soothed by the earth-shattering levels of pleasure that course through your body because he’s doing it right, now, and the vibrations on your clit and inside of you combine to a nearly incomprehensible medley of sensation.
The sound you make is disgustingly unholy. Something between a shout of pain, a cry of surprise, and a moan, you don’t think you could recreate it under any other circumstance. Your hand flies back up to your mouth, but you know it’s too late. Your roommate would have definitely heard.
You don’t have the brainpower to plan what explanation you’ll give her right now, though. Not when every nerve in your pussy is being set alight, practically overloading your brain with signals of pleasure.
Once you get over the initial shock of being penetrated like that without warning, you’re able to find your voice enough to sputter out a very messy “Wha... what the f… fuck?”
Morro tilts the vibrator until it hits the spot inside of you that makes your mouth drop open and your back arch off of the mattress. He talks just loud enough to be heard over the buzz of the toy. “If you want to act like a brat, then I’ll treat you like one.”
Asshole. You’re not a brat. You open your mouth to tell him as such, but he adjusts the position of the rabbit ears so they hit your clit even more directly and the words you were going to say disappear into your gasp.
Morro mutters something. You can’t quite make it out over the sound of the vibrator and the rush of blood to your head, but you’d wager it was some variant of “stupid bitch.” Which, if you heard correctly, is terrible and degrading, but right now… Right now, that really fucking turns you on.
Some part of you must have reacted to that, because Morro catches on. “Yeah? Is this what you wanted?” His voice is even breathier than usual. “Little brat like you getting what it deserves?”
You want to shake your head, but the answer is both yes and no at the same time. Yes, this is exactly what you wanted. No, you’re not a brat. He’s the brat here.
It’s so degrading, but damn, you can’t recall the last time you’ve been this aroused. Morro fucks you carelessly, like all he cares about is seeing you fall apart by his hand. This is what you get for provoking him. Your pussy is going to be numb and sore after this. The pulses around your clit are good, but the rhythmic vibrations inside of you jab perfectly against your G-spot. That’s why you bought this type of vibrator. It can do for you what a dick isn’t capable of.
If you were of sound mind, you’d note that there’s a joke to be made there. Something about Morro being a dick, and therefore a dick is capable of fucking you like this. However, at the moment, your mind is anything but sound. All that matters to your brain is chasing the pleasure Morro’s giving you as long as he keeps the vibrator where it is.
A whimper makes its way past your lips and you see Morro smirk in amusement. Oh, so this is entertaining for him. So he’s having fun. Good.
He hesitates for a second, as if weighing his next move, before moving to hover just above your ear. The coldness of him is unmissable, but not unwelcome with how much your body has been heating up.
Morro’s lips are so close to your skin that you’d feel his every breath if he were still alive. His voice is a low rasp when he speaks. “You’re pathetic.”
The full body shudder that runs through you is complemented by Morro turning up the vibrations, leaving you open mouth gasping in near bliss. Fuck him. Fuck him for utilizing his knowledge of your kinks like this. It’s unfair.
You love it.
You arch into the pressure of the vibe against your G-spot. “Please keep talking to me like that.”
Morro lets out a small huff of laughter before leaning back, taking in your whole body. “Thought so.”
You hate him. This man pisses you off so bad, and unfortunately, you find that horribly sexy. The more annoyed you grow with him, the more desperately you want him to make you fall apart.
“I can fuck you better than you fuck yourself.” Morro readjusts the tilt of the vibrator, making your squirm as the tremors hit somewhere new. “Hell, I probably fuck you better than that guy was going to.”
The image of your date’s face pops into your head and you feel a pang of regret. He was a nice guy. Nicer than Morro. He deserves better than having his name desecrated by a ghost. “You don’t get to say that about him.”
”Why? You’re…“ Morro pauses before spitting out the next few words. “…a fuckin’ slut. I know what you’re after. You’re just trying to get dicked down, aren’t you?”
You don’t respond. At your silence, Morro solidifies his free hand enough to thread his fingers into your hair and tugs. “Aren’t you?” he repeats, even harsher.
Tears prickle at the backs of your eyes as you try to nod despite his tight grip. That’s not enough for him, though. He pulls your hair again and your mouth drops open from the pain.
“Say it.”
”I’m… fuck.” You really don’t want to say it, but that just makes it so much hotter. “I’m a… a slut.”
Morro lets go of your hair, seemingly satisfied. “I know,” he says, still speaking to you like he detests you. “I saw how many guys you went through that first month. You’ll spread your legs for any man desperate enough to have sex with you.”
There’s no way he just went there. You don’t know whether to be horrified or aroused. Perhaps both.
That first month was… a time. A rebound period where you coped with your loss by filling the holes inside you with cocks every chance you got. It wasn’t a good coping method, nor a healthy one, but it worked. And then you met Morro, and any stress over your last failed relationship vanished in the face of the newfound stress of a ghost roommate.
Still, one of the main reasons you didn’t immediately file a room change request was due to Morro’s insistence that he didn’t care about you having sex in front of him and that he didn’t pay attention to it. Clearly, that wasn’t true.
Your cheeks burn from a mix of anger, embarrassment, and lust. “Y-you fuckin’ liar. Creep. You said you…“ Your hips jerk as the vibrations hit just so. ”W-weren’t watching.”
“Come on.” Morro’s tone is absolutely condescending. “We both know you didn’t really believe that.”
Your chest drops. This is strange territory. You should’ve talked this over with him beforehand, because you can’t tell if this is roleplaying and Morro’s really upping the degradation or if this is actually him confessing to having some level of sexual interest in you. The possibility of the latter really shouldn’t be so appealing to you, but in this moment, the thought that he’d been watching you every time you’d had sex in this room absolutely is.
He’d be right, too. He always is. Deep down, you suspected his whole “I won’t look” thing was bullshit. It was nice to believe, but Morro isn’t an upstanding guy like that. Cooped up in this room for months on end, any bit of excitement is excitement. His morals aren’t strong enough for him to preserve your sanctity like that.
You’ll let yourself believe that this is real for now and question it later. All that matters is the high you’re chasing, so close to orgasm for the second time.
“And look at you now. Legs wide open ‘cause of me. You’re-“ Morro stops in the middle of his sentence. “Shit.”
“What?” Through the impossible mix of both sensitivity and numbness inside of you, you notice that the vibrations stopped.
You push yourself to sit up as Morro pulls the device out of you. He raises it to his face to inspect it, pressing the buttons randomly. Nothing happens. “I think it died.”
“Oh.” God. That was probably divine intervention. The universe collectively jumped in to stop you from orgasming at the hands of the ghost that lives in your room. Especially given… that. The way he was talking to you. The way you let him talk to you, that you specifically asked him to do. You’re never going to live this down.
Well. So much for all that. Your pussy still aches for the orgasm it was denied, but this needed to happen. Now you and Morro can discuss what the hell just went down and you can preserve some level of sanctity by not cumming because of him, if there’s any sanctity left in you to preserve.
Morro frowns at the device, looking between it and you. He appears to be scheming. His silence, an uncharacteristic trait on him, indicates as much.
He returns the vibrator back to the position it had been in earlier, with the ears around your clit while the head presses against your opening without sliding in. “Can I?”
Nevermind about stopping. You’re not quite sure what he’s asking, but you nod anyway. Morro pushes the bulk of the vibrator inside of you and your eyes slide shut in pleasure at the stretch.
It’s nice, but the problem of the dead battery hasn’t been fixed. Unless there’s some sort of vibrator-charging ghost power you don’t know about, you’re not sure where things are going from here. The whole point of a vibrator is for it to vibrate. You open your mouth to ask. “What-“
The last “-are you doing?” just comes out as a choked gasp when, without warning, Morro pulls the vibrator out and then rams it back in. The angle and curve of the device means it presses against your G-spot and makes you see that same bliss from earlier. Morro repeats the motion, pulling it out until just the tip remains before pushing it as far inside you as it will go.
It’s almost like it’s his dick and wow, the image of Morro fucking you should not turn you on as much as it does. Morro uses the dead vibrator as a dildo, driving it in and out of you. Your hand on your mouth isn’t enough to restrict the moans you let out as Morro pushes the device against your G-spot over and over again.
The short reprieve of a clear mind you had vanishes quicker than it had come. You’re in it again, that headspace that makes you want Morro to say horrible things to you, and he knows it.
“You horny little slut,” Morro breathes, driving the vibrator in and out relentlessly. Every time he moves it, the front part harshly rubs against your clit. “You wanted to get fucked so badly today, didn’t you? Betcha never thought I’d be the one doing it.”
You shake your head. Never could you have imagined this being how the night would end.
He’s getting aroused too. You’re not sure if it’s just started, or if he’d been repressing the signs earlier, but you can tell. His movements are sloppier, but still just as strong. Somehow, even though you haven’t touched it, his hair hangs messy in front of his face. If he had any blood to flush red with, you’re sure he’d be showing it now.
“Betcha wish I could be inside you right now, huh? Is that what you’re thinking?” Morro teases. Something inside your chest flips. “Wondering what my dick would feel like if it was filling you up instead of this toy?”
Mind reading isn’t a ghost ability as far as you know, but with how well Morro knows you, it might as well be.
He doesn’t need to breathe, on account of being dead, but his voice is breathy as he insults you. He’s just as into this as you are, you think. “You’re so fucking pathetic. Look at you, you can’t even talk. I know you like it when guys are rough with you.”
Fuck. He was watching. Your pussy clenches at the confirmation that it wasn’t just talk; he’s seen all the kinky shit you were doing with your hookups. Pervert. Creep. You shouldn’t be letting him do this to you.
Morro must notice, because he lets out a soft laugh of amusement. “You little slut. You wanna cum?”
You shouldn’t be letting him do this to you. He was probably there watching every single time you got railed in this room. He’s gross. You shouldn’t be letting him do this to you.
You nod frantically, more desperate than ever.
Morro leans back over your ear. “Why would I let you?”
In contrast to his words, he jams the vibrator harder against your G-spot. You could cry. This is torture. Morro is gonna be the death of you.
You want to come up with some sort of answer, but it’s hard to speak and even harder to use your brain when the toy is stimulating you so close to the brink.
“Say it again,” Morro orders. “Call yourself a slut again.”
“F-fuck,” you pant. Your resolve has thoroughly been broken. All you care about is chasing the high you’re so close to reaching. “I’m a… a slut. Want… want your cock inside of me.”
Morro groans out loud at that. He tilts the vibrator again so the smaller part is off your clit and instead brings his free hand down onto it. Two cold fingers, almost completely solid, rub harsh circles around the bud.
Your back arches off the bed as it becomes so much, so perfect, so good. You’d be impressed that Morro is concentrating his energy strongly enough to be able to touch you like this if you could think anything beyond the word “please.”
“Go on,” Morro urges, his fingers picking up speed. His movements are sloppy, erratic, practically frantic as he works you closer to the edge. “I know you wanna cum.”
The solidity of his touch fluxuates. It’s hard for him to maintain form in his excitement. Still, it’s just enough to send you over the edge.
Your orgasm blooms out of you, the sensation zipping up to your brain and clouding it in mist. Your legs shake and twitch as it hits, your hands instinctively reaching for purchase on Morro’s body but falling back to the sheets when they realize there is none.
“There you go,” Morro breathes, fingers still circling your clit through your climax.
You take heaving inhales as your peak winds down and your senses slowly return to you. You’re aware of how wet you are, exemplified by the chill Morro’s proximity leaves against the mess between your legs. Your thighs twitch ever so slightly as he softly pulls the vibrator out of you. You’ll need to remember to charge it for next time.
Next time.
You blink yourself back into sound mind. At some point, you had sunk down so far into the bed that you’re no longer sitting up. Morro’s stopped touching you, but he looks at your vagina with an expression of wonder.
You push yourself up, scooting until your back hits the pillows. Morro snaps out of whatever trance he was in and looks you in the eyes.
There’s a beat. Some sort of lingering tension. You break it with a laugh of disbelief.
Morro has never looked more alive than he does at this moment. At least, not since you’ve known him. There’s a thrill in his eyes, like he’s been hit by an adrenaline rush.
You cover your eyes. “Shit.”
“It was good?” You can tell from his tone that he already knows the answer to that, but wants to hear you say it anyways.
“Yeah. Fuck you. Yeah.” Belatedly, you wish there was something you could do for him. It feels unfair that he was able to do so much and yet you can’t even touch him.
He was really, really good at talking down to you like that. Almost suspiciously so, especially considering that neither of you had discussed that beforehand. Which is something you should’ve done, and something you definitely need to do now.
“Thank you,” you say, and you mean it.
Morro looks away. His hair hides his face from view. “Sure.”
In the silence, your mind starts replaying everything that just happened. Morro knew where your vibrator was. He’d fucked you with it and degraded you to hell and back. He had been paying attention every single time you’d had sex with other people, and he’d lied to you about it.
You should really, really be more upset about that last point. That’s beyond a violation of privacy, though you suppose the logistics are a bit different for ghosts. Still, it’s bad. You being into it for some sick reason doesn’t make it any less bad. He kept the truth from you for so long because he knew it too.
You guys need to talk about it. It needs to come up in a setting beyond kink so you can actually sort this out in a healthy manner.
As you’re searching your hazy brain for a less stupid way to phrase “what just happened?”, your phone pings. Out of curiosity and habit, you roll over and pick it up. A message notification flashes across your screen.
Your heart skips a beat. You read the two preview lines, then read them again, stunned at what you’re seeing. ”Oh my god.”
”What is it?” Morro floats over to look over your shoulder. He’s acting like everything is normal, like he didn’t just confess to secretly watching you have sex for over a month and spending many more months denying it. There’s no way he doesn’t see the issue, but you’re too focused on the message to question that now.
You unlock the phone with shaking fingers, not sure if they’re trembling because the aftershocks of that sex are still running through you or because of your excitement. The message comes up on your screen, real and there.
”Oh my god,” you repeat, giddiness blossoming in your chest. Your face breaks out into a huge smile.
“What-“ Morro tries to look at the screen again, but you clutch your phone to your chest to hide it from him. He looks so confused at your joy.
”He texted me!” you practically squeal, feeling like you’re a high schooler with a crush all over again.
Morro draws back, floating above you. “Who?”
“The guy from today!” You excitedly roll back and forth on the bed, not caring that your lower half is fully exposed. “He asked to hang out again!”
”Oh.” Morro turns away from you. He sounds… disappointed. Damn. So much for being a supportive friend. “Congrats.”
You put your phone facedown on the bed, keeping one hand on it. You don’t trust Morro not to hijack it and send his own messages under your name. His attitude change is an interesting development. “Morro,” you say, crawling on the bed to get closer to him.
“What?” he spits back at you.
”Are you jealous?”
”No.” He turns around, expression hardened. “I told you, I don’t care if you have sex in this room.”
”Okay.” You’re still smiling. Yeah right, he doesn’t care. Liar. You sit back onto your legs and press the edge of your phone against your lips. ”I’ll keep that in mind.”