**A/N**

Hey guys! I am so sorry for the lateness in updating. Things have been really crazy lately on the home-front (adulting sucks) so I just want to thank you all for your patience, and continued support. Your reviews are greatly appreciated, and they keep me writing.

Anyhoo, this chapter is pure smut, with a sprinkling of fluff, and a dash of angst...so please let me know what you think. Hope you enjoy! ;)

Chapter Fifteen; The Ghost With The Most

It felt as though Lydia's heart was bursting out of her chest, and she half expected to drop dead on the spot at any any second.

She was shocked. So utterly shocked by his unexpected and almost unwilling declaration. Her dainty hands dropped from his grasp, her jaw slackening as she stood with her eyes wider than usual, and her arms dangling uselessly by her sides. This couldn't be real, and she was too afraid to believe it.

'He's just using you.' The nagging voice of doubt whispered in her mind, refusing to be silent. 'He doesn't meant it.'

His head had lowered now, and he was staring at the floor, seemingly enthralled by a crumpled up leaflet which advertised his services as a bio exorcist. Was he...embarrassed? No, that couldn't be right. It wasn't possible. Not the self proclaimed 'ghost with the most'. A title which she was starting to suspect was code for 'professional panty wetter'.

"What? So, you're trying to tell me that you..." Her words dissolved, unable to say any more for fear of speaking the words aloud. As if they were so fragile they might shatter and then be lost forever.

Huffing slightly, he raised his head, forcing himself to look directly into her eyes, and she felt that familiar inimitable warmth spread out through her body.

"Yeah." His furrowed brow deepened in an anxious frown. He was so damn nervous he'd never felt such relief to be dead. Otherwise he'd have been worried about so much as breathing the wrong way. His guts had become an unrecognisable, churning mass of butterflies rather than beetles. And he found himself wondering yet again, how the hell this had happened to him.

She looked worryingly alarmed, and as he gently pushed a rogue lock of hair behind her ear, he was careful to move in almost animated slow motion. She was like a butterfly herself, a beautiful black butterfly, a dark, delicate, skittish creature that may fly away from him at any moment if startled. This wasn't exactly how he'd planned on telling her. In fact, he hadn't really seriously considered telling her at all. Instead, he'd hoped maybe she would've admitted her feelings, thus enabling him to respond with something much more simple such as a "yeah, me too." But in a moment of complete madness he'd decided he had to man-up and tell her. Regardless of the outcome, and whatever happened, he had to voice what his foolish heart wanted him to. He needed her to know how he felt.

However, he still wasn't quite prepared for her next words...

"How do I know that you're not just saying that? For all I know you could just be tricking me, trying to break the curse." The uncertainty and doubt were blindingly visible in her beautiful, expressive face. Her chocolatey eyes were narrowed in suspicion, and her neat little nose wrinkled.

And that's when he felt it. The full on humiliation. The sadness. The complete agony of knowing that he'd just opened his withered, old heart and confessed to the love of his afterlife, who thought he was just after one thing. And not even a sexual favour at that. "What? No!" He spluttered, recoiling away from her like a wounded cobra. "You think I'd do that? Really? Well, thanks Lyds. Thanks a fuckin' bunch. Ya' know, a guy spills his guts, and you have to go kick him in the balls, that's nice. Real nice."

"I'm sorry, but I just don't know what to think anymore. You've not exactly been honest with me. You even said right from the start that it's a marriage of inconvenience." She replied defensively, visibly surprised by his reaction.

"Yeah well, you said 'no' during the wedding vows but that ain't stopped ya' creaming over me has it?"

"Oh my god!" She cried, embarrassment and fury imploding in equal measures. "I don't believe you'd say that."

"Yeah well you've made it pretty damn obvious ya' don't believe anythin' I say." He retorted, seemingly unfazed by her impaling stare.

"Well can you blame me? You've lied so much, you had an agenda and now you just expect me to believe that you've somehow fallen for me or something? It isn't that simple."

"Yeah it is. It is that simple."

"No it's not!" She insisted, her hands tugged at the corners of her spiderweb poncho, pulling on the soft, wispy material until the seams at her shoulders strained, threatening to come apart. "I don't buy it. And even if I did, telling me you love me can't just undo everything you've done. It's not a quick fix."

"I never fuckin' thought it would be-"

"No, just shut up for a minute and listen to me!"

His eyes widened at her unexpected outburst. The chick had balls, he had to give her that. But then, wasn't her feistiness one of the many things he found so utterly enchanting about her? That hidden fire that occasionally flickered to the surface never failed to entertain and beguile him. Rocking back on his heels, hands stuck in his pockets, his mouth tweaked slightly at the corner. Prompting her to scowl at him.

"Oh, you find this funny?" She accused scathingly. Her hands now flying to her hips.

"Mildly amusing, yeah." He admitted, throwing his hands up, his infamous twisted grin now firmly in place. "But hey, I'm being honest, right? Which is what you want."

Lydia was not a particularly violent person. But she wanted to slap him. She'd never had such a strong urge to slap anyone in her life. "Do you have any idea how obnoxious you are?"

"No but I kinda get the feelin' you're about to tell me."

"Ugh. God you're infuriating. Can't you be serious for one fucking minute? I'm trying to explain that trust has to be earned, and you've broken it. You of all people should've known how much it would hurt me because you know Brett did the exact same thing-"

"Whoa, now hang on! Don't you go comparing me to that little snot-nosed fuckwit. I should've done the world a favour and reduced him to a fuckin' smear on the sidewalk when I had the chance. Instead, thanks to you I'll have to make do with worshiping the ground that awaits his grave."

"Oh will you just stop with all the macho, overprotective bullshit!" She yelled. Anger was too kind a word to describe what she was feeling. Furious was more accurate. The fact that he appeared to be fixating solely on the mention of her ex's name rather than listening to what she was so desperately trying to say, brought all the pent up anger bubbling to the surface. And her hands trembled in temper.

"Bullshit?...Bullshit?" He yelled back at her, his own hands balled into fists, the sharp tips of his long, pointed nails digging deep into the rough skin of his palms. "I genuinely fuckin' care, and you call it bullshit!" Leaning forwards, the candlelight slashed across his features, casting half of his face in shadows. "You know...for a breather you sure as hell can be one cold bitch."

That was it. She felt something inside her snap, and instinctively brought her hand up and slapped him hard across the face. His head snapped back with the force of it, but before she could move he'd caught hold of the wrist of the offending hand, gripping it alarmingly tightly.

"Let go of me!" She hissed, bringing her other hand up in an attempt to repeat the action, but he swiftly grasped that wrist too. Rendering her incapacitated. Before she could protest and make him sorry for that move, she herself began moving. As though someone had hit the fast-forward button on a video recorder. Her eyes struggled to focus as the room began to swirl, and she felt herself whipping around, before her back hit the wall with a slight thud. Realising she'd gone too far, she struggled to catch her breath as he held her pinned to the wall in a tightening grip. She could feel the sensation of her heart palpitating, forcing ripples of throbbing blood directly to her temples.

"I'll let go of you, just as soon as ya' stop acting like a little brat!" Growling fiercely into her face, the sound of his venomous voice set a strange spark off to all her senses.

His mind was struggling to catch up with what was happening here. He couldn't understand how the situation had escalated so unfeasibly quickly. He'd summoned the courage to confess his feelings to her, and this is what he got in return? Her lashing out at him, and for no real justifiable reason. Sure he'd goaded her. But that was his knee-jerk reaction when on the odd occasion he felt backed into a corner.

Moving his head back a few inches so that he could look at her, and she him, she realised with a fearful jolt that they were in fact now on the ceiling. In his own fit of rage, he'd whirled her around and levitated upwards, pushing her back against the roof of his coffin. Her hazel eyes grew wider still as they flicked between the messy floor below, and his stern face.

"Ooh, are ya' feelin' a little helpless right about now Lydia?" He snarled in a low, don't-you-dare-actually-answer-me tone.

The sound of her pulse beating in her ears, made his voice barely audible, but it sent sweet, electrifying vibrations along her skin. She nodded feebly in response. Her ability to speak too hampered by her breath that was raggedly moving in and out of her mouth at regular, gasping intervals.

"Good. 'Cause now you know how I fuckin' feel, when the woman I love won't believe that I actually love her to death."

She exhaled shakily, her eyes momentarily closing whilst processing his words which were so ardent and raw. There was nothing delicate about the way he was holding her. His iron grip wasn't unbearably painful, but it had never been like this before. And the strange sensation of fear mingled with desire, caused her body to shake in an odd trembling rhythm against him. Warring with the illicit pleasure he was evoking, she tried to conceal it. She didn't want him to know. She didn't want him to know what he was doing to her.

But the ever-perceptive spook had already sensed it. The first tell-tale sign came courtesy of her rapidly rising temperature, followed by her perfect little nose, which he'd come to notice flared slightly whenever she was mad...or aroused. And whilst she was undoubtedly pissed at him, once he'd caught the familiar, intoxicating scent of her fear mixed with excitement...he knew. Feeling her body heat sear into him, was warming and comforting. He could've spent hours just absorbing her, holding her close, feeding off her warmth, but his own body became an impatient beast, and a certain part of his anatomy that lay south of the border began to grow increasingly hard.

He licked his chapped lips, and desperately tried to remain focused, ignoring the inconvenient stirring in his pants. After all, she had pretty much rejected him. And then to add insult to injury, had in not so many words accused him of being nothing other than a big, fat fraud. Which made him incandescent with rage, and his pride wouldn't allow him to waver so easily. He refused to give in to his carnal urges. Regardless of how mouth-wateringly exquisite her scent was, or how the knowledge that she was burning for him, drove him completely insane with lust.

Still, the temptation to let her know that he was aware of how his burst of anger had deeply affected her in the most unexpected way, proved too delicious to ignore. His voice slowed and deepened into a sensual drawl as he leaned his head forward and their brows met. "Oh, er...and I gotta say, I do think it's pretty hot the way fightin' with me turns you on so much babe."

A deep flush flamed up her neck and she dipped her head before it had chance to reach her cheeks. Oh god. He had noticed. Her heartbeat careened as she began to feel the familiar pulse of arousal deep in her belly, increase further. Literally squirming with mortification, she twisted in order to try and put some distance between them. Unfortunately in doing so, she accidentally ground into his erection, causing a momentary lapse in his concentration.

Feeling as if he'd been physically clubbed over the head by the fog of lust which was now hampering his thoughts, his muscles suddenly relaxed, his power waned, and his body fell abruptly, taking her with him. Fortunately for both of them, they were positioned right above his rickety, old narrow bed. So their landing wasn't hard. Unlike a certain part of Beetlejuice's anatomy.

She yelped softly, stomach flipping as she felt herself falling. His arms wrapped around her tightly, so that she remained atop him as they landed. He might've lost weight, but he still would've squashed her if she'd ended up beneath him on the way down. They collided with the mattress, bouncing slightly on impact, whilst the frame shook violently, threatening to collapse beneath their weight. His embrace loosened, allowing her to roll off of him, and in her daze she almost rolled onto the floor, but with lightning speed he flipped himself over onto his side, and pulled her back up.

Gasping to regain her breath, she stole a glance at him. He lay unmoving, with his eyes closed. No breath, no life. And for the first time in a long time, she was reminded of the fact that he was a ghost. Which was bizarre. Even here, six feet underground in his magical coffin, he was still very much a man to her. Not just a ghost. Not a monster. A man. A man who had turned her world upside down on more than one occasion. A man who brought chaos were there'd previously been calm. A man who ironically, made her feel alive. A man who...now claimed he loved her.

They lay for several minutes in comfortable silence, facing each other on the tiny, poor excuse for a bed. They were almost nose to nose, and as she stared at him, entranced by the peacefulness of his usually torrid form, she seemed to have the stress drain from her body as well.

"Why...why me?" She breathed finally, with great effort.

Without opening an eyelid, his well defined, angled brows knitted together in confusion. "Why you what?"

"Out of all the places you've been, and all the girls who must've found you attractive...why did you pick me?"

"Seriously?" His eyes snapped open, and he shifted slightly, straightening somehow so he was now looking down on her. Dwarfing her as usual due to the height difference. "Okay, first of all...I ain't met any girls who are still breathing that have found me attractive...and second, d'ya think its a matter of "picking"?"

"Well yeah." She lifted her chin high, now as equally confused as him, if not more so. "Isn't it?"

"Pfft. No. Attraction ain't all about the physical. It's 'bout attitude, humour and that kinda stuff. You're funny and smart. I ain't never met an eighteen year old as bright and quirky as you. You know loads of random shit, ya' like poetry and art and opera but you also dig snakes 'n spiders, rock music and old horror movies."

"Seventeen. I don't turn eighteen 'til next week."

"Near as fuckin' damnit. And see? Your argumentative streak is cute too. Kinda. Sometimes." His mouth kicked up, his eyes now brazen and alive with unadulterated adoration. "And as for looks, well you're smokin' hot...that dark hair, and pale skin. It's real mysterious and classy."

"I, I dye my hair. I'm a natural brunette." She admitted reluctantly, interrupting him once more. She couldn't help it. Her nerves were rattling again and her heart was beating like a tribal drum against her rib cage. "It's kind of mousey brown actually, pretty boring."

"Quit your rambling Lyds. I'm gonna be honest with ya', I don't really give a good god damn, your hair could be luminous fuckin' yellow and you'd still look gorgeous." Raising a hand, he lightly grazed the back of his fingers down and across the apple of her cheek. They trailed down, seductively ghosting over her pouting lips, before finally cupping the tip of her jaw line. "Actually, 'gorgeous' doesn't really cut it. You're frickin' beautiful. Stunning actually, no...you're a Bambi-eyed goddess."

Lydia gulped, humble beneath the weight of his compliments, transfixed by the clear ocean-green pools that she felt she could drown in. God those eyes were beautiful. Deep, mysterious and mournful. At such close proximity, she was able to admire the glowing yellow-golden strands around the iris. In sharp contrast to his over bearing disposition and appearance, they were intelligent - the eyes of a deep thinker. Whilst simultaneously being dangerous, sexy, I-could-do-stuff-to-you-and-you'd-really-like-it eyes.

"I knew ya' were special from the first moment I laid eyes on you, but..." He continued, as she eagerly hung on his every word. "...I never thought I'd fall for you as hard as I did. But I have. So there, that's why 'you'."

Her small mouth opened slightly, forming the shape to say 'oh' but no sound came out, so instead she just lay with her mouth open like a fish, feeling utterly self conscious and ridiculous. Her throat constricted tightly as his words filtered through her ears and straight to her heart, pumping it up making it feel full to the point of bursting or floating away like a balloon. And she needed him. Needed him there to catch it just in case it did. "D-did you mean it?" She croaked, her voice so strained with emotion she barely recognised it.

He knew immediately what she was referring to, and his body went rigid. His sharp eyebrows scrunching together in frustration. "D'ya really gotta ask me that?"

And he was right. She didn't. She knew now for certain that he had meant it. But she wasn't prepared for what happened next. Tears pricked her eyes as she felt a hard rush of emotion like she'd never felt before. It was unstoppable. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut but the tears pushed out, and she hurriedly wiped them away with her hand. Hoping he wouldn't mistake her overwhelming, breathtaking happiness for something else.

"Lydia?"

"No...no it's..it's okay..I.." She cut him off, but couldn't finish her own sentence, the words having got stuck in her throat. She was at a loss. She didn't know what to do. Which was ridiculous considering the intimacies they'd previously shared. Where should she put her hands? Should she hug him or just lean in and..? God, she felt like such a blushing virgin. But the need to do something was making her lose her mind. The sense of urgency to feel closer to him was unbearable.

From the moment she'd met him she knew she needed him in her life in some capacity, no matter what that might be. And she'd tried to convince herself that perhaps having him as a friend was enough, more than enough. But she'd found herself wanting much more. She wasn't able to put into words, the love she felt for this man. If she could she would, but now it was coming out in nearly tangible waves. Physical, aching and desperate. And she couldn't stop herself. Like an addict with temptation within her grasp, her fingers itched to touch him again.

Tilting her chin she swooped up, catching him off guard, and kissed him squarely on the lips. God, he actually was like some type of crazy drug. Addictive, and taking over her body, commanding and bending it to his will.

But no sooner had he given in to her bold advances, when he found himself pulling back. Wrenching his lips from hers and sitting up. His pride was still bruised, and whilst under normal circumstances he'd be more than happy for her to 'kiss it better' he was undeniably perplexed by the turn of events, and wasn't convinced she was thinking clearly. The emotional turmoil was seriously messing with her head. Even his own felt overloaded to the point of exploding. "Lydia, don't. C'mon...you don't have to do that."

Pouting sulkily she reached out and grabbed him by his lapels, and tried to pull him into another kiss. God she was losing it. So much so that if he suggested having sex on the dirty, rotting floor right there and then she'd have agreed happily. "I know I don't have to...I want to." She purred, and the words sent a tingling sensation across his skin, making him perceptibly shiver.

"Lydia...Lydia stop. Stop it." He wheezed, his words hollow and lacking conviction. He didn't want her to stop. But he was an old coward at heart. This wasn't some afterlife floozy he'd picked up in a bar, this was his Lydia. His wife. And she was hitting on him. Hell, she was hitting on him hard. And as much as he wanted nothing more than to take her roughly right on the spot, he was nervous. Nervous where this was heading. He didn't want to lose control, and he didn't want her having any regrets. But most of all, he didn't want her freaking out when it came to the crunch...because he was, as she'd so rightly pointed out repeatedly in the past, a ghost. And she was not.

"Why?" She was asking now, undeterred by his less than enthusiastic response, she attempted to remove his jacket. "Don't you want me?"

His large hands covered hers, pressing them to his chest. "Shit. You've got no idea. Of course I want ya', I want ya' so bad it fuckin' hurts, but-"

"But what?" She persisted, straining upwards to plant soft kisses along his jawline. Her insides had melted in a gooey heap, making her forget everything except the raw desire to get her man into bed. Evidently, the fact that he was a ghost was no longer a problem for her. And hadn't been for some time, if she was honest with herself. "I want you too."

"Want me to what?" His voice was ragged, his eyes practically rolling back into their blackened sockets at the sensation of her warm, full lips now trailing down his neck.

Giddy with lust, she forced him down. And his resistance was crumbling at an alarming rate, as he permitted her to push him to recline on his back. He realised then with a start, that she was the only one who could do this to him. The only living, breathing person who held any power or control over him.

"No, I mean I want you. I really do Beej...and I want to-"

"Wait, what? Agh, shit! Please don't say it. Don't. Don't say any of it." He grumbled, already eager to hear her racing breath, all hot and heavy echoing inside his mouth once more. "You don't know what you're sayin', I don't think ya' know what you want."

Leaning over him, her hands grabbed at his shirt and shoulders. "Yeah I do! I'm yours Beej." Brazenly she straddled his hips, more than aware that he was hard between her legs. And she was throbbing away, desperate for more.

Growling like a feral dog, he brought his hips up to meet her. The pulsating warmth of her core burned against him, setting his senses alight, and threatening to consume him. "I er...I think ya' can call me by my name now."

She let out a broken moan as she moved against him, her groin crushing against his. "Oh...Beetlejuice."

The sound alone of his name being moaned on her luscious lips was enough to make him lose all constraint. But her claiming to be his, and stating she wanted him was enough to send him hurtling over the edge. Leaning forwards, he gripped her narrow waist, hands guiding her movements as she rocked against the hard bulge in his trousers, whilst his lips hungrily sought out hers.

The sensory overload was sublime. The unique scratchy roughness of his chin grazing her own as he claimed her mouth over and over again, teasing and tasting with such sweet erotic pleasure, she was fleetingly reminded of the other wonderful things he could do with it. Those divine lips made her forget who he was, who she was. They explored, aroused, and took. And she would willingly let him have it all.

There had been many times when Lydia had wished she were someone else. Someone prettier, someone more elegant and eloquent, someone...better. But in this moment she was so happy to be her. Because it was her he was kissing, her that he loved...And incidentally, she had never despised leggings so much as she did right then, for being thin enough to feel but thick enough to not feel enough.

Beetlejuice honestly thought he could take no more as she throbbed damply against his clothed erection. He ripped his mouth away with a gasp, and in one fluid movement flipped her over onto her back so that he was leaning over her.

Squealing with surprised delight, she quickly set about tugging at his jacket again, and this time he didn't stop her as she wrenched it down. "Couldn't you use your juice to take these off?" She stated rather than asked, as her hands turned to the tedious task of unbuttoning his shirt. Her fingers were trembling, the subdued lighting didn't make the task any easier, and the buttons were irritatingly small and fiddly.

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?"

Her eyes dragged back up to his face, and he looked every bit the devil he was. So wild, and untamed, dark, mysterious and sinful. How could she ever resist him? Pulling his shirt from his trousers, the final button relented, and she eagerly slid her hands up the cold, bare flesh of his stomach. She felt his muscles bunching and tensing beneath the warm pads of her fingers, as they ran up along his chest, before slipping his shirt off completely. It fell to the floor, his tie still hanging loosely in place around his neck, and Lydia gawked. Knowing in that moment she would never ever get used to the sight of him naked, well most certainly not from the waist up...

He wasn't a well-cut hunk, that was a given. But he was impossibly pleasing to the eye nonetheless. She never had been a fan of the 'all abs and pecs' look on a man, it was all a bit too much in her opinion. But Beetlejuice's physique was like a strange sort of perfection in her eyes. His belly was a little rounded but surprisingly solid, as opposed to jiggly as one might expect. His chest was smooth and quite well defined. His broad shoulders and sinewy upper arms were muscular, and he tapered slightly at the waist. A light dusting of hair trailed downwards from his belly button, disappearing below the waistband of his trousers.

Even his slight pot belly didn't look out of place on him. His stature oozed masculinity and screamed power. His skin was ashen in hue, like his face and hands, and stained in places with small patches and flecks which she first mistook for dirt or moss. But as her hands glided across it's surface, she quickly realised it was discolouration. Probably caused by having been dead and buried for so many years. Then to top it all off, the distinctive faded black ink of a snake tattoo curled downwards across his right breast, it's tongue circling just above his small, but perfectly formed nipple. Which was ludicrously sexy as hell.

Feeling rather uncomfortable and self conscious under her intrusive gaze, Beetlejuice was doing his best to think of something suitably funny to say in order to break the loaded silence, but he was put out of his misery when she grabbed him by the tie, and pulled him into a deep, spine-tingling kiss. All the while, her nimble hands traced circles against the expanse of his bare back.

"You're gonna be the death of me." He whispered against her mouth, as his capable hands took hold of her poncho.

She smiled at his remark, raising her arms, enabling him to peel the material over her head. Unbeknownst to her, with a concealed flick of his hand, the mischievous poltergeist had juiced away the shirt she had been wearing underneath, along with her bra. And now she felt the cool air, and his eyes on her.

Lunging forwards, he kissed between the mounds of her breasts, savouring the sweet sensation of her tender skin on his deathly lips, and then mercilessly pushed her back against the mattress. Everything was moving at super-speed now. Like running down a hill, they were gaining momentum, and with a quick zip and a tug, her boots were removed and dropped onto the floor. She had taken the lead initially by starting this. But now his fervent lust had taken over, and he was very much in control.

His large hands were tugging now at her leggings, pulling them down, and as they went they conveniently took her underwear with them. She blushed deeply, feeling incredibly awkward as he leaned back onto his knees in order to disentangle them from her slender legs. She could feel the heavy weight of his passion-filled eyes staring down at her, unblinking and filled with need whilst they roved over her form in awe, revelling in her nudity. Painfully aware of her nakedness, her cheeks flamed scarlet with embarrassment. She felt incredibly vulnerable now, and clumsily crossed her hands in a vain attempt to cover her most intimate area.

Taking hold of her hands, he held them firmly out of the way. "Don't. There's no need to do that babe." He exclaimed hoarsely, "Let me see ya'...for the love of God, let me see ya'."

Blinking rapidly, she dared to chance a look at him and was stunned by all the different emotions she saw in his eyes - lust, passion, concern, adoration, and of course...love. Brett had never looked at her like this. And he had never made her feel this way.

She was magnificent to Beetlejuice, and the vision of her with her dark hair fanned out across the surface of his shabby little bed, and her brown eyes so full and deep as they locked on his, would forever be burned into his memory. Her perfect little rosebud mouth was open, and inviting. And her body...hell, she was like sculpted marble. Creamy white skin teased and tantalised his dilated pupils, and he stared in unashamed bliss whilst his hands explored her legs, sliding from knee to inner thigh.

Her pulse sped, causing the blood to chug through her veins at a rapid rate, and she made the kind of noise that Brett could only dream of hearing.

"Chirst. You're so damn beautiful." He stilled, and she detected the uncertainty in his gravelly voice. Agonising about defiling such an exquisite beauty, he was torn between ravaging her or refusing to go any further. Could he do this? Was he truly capable of sullying her with his foul, demonic touch? And taking away her purity? He wasn't so sure anymore. Despite him having dreamed of this moment, now it had actually arrived he found himself hesitating.

Growing increasingly anxious, Lydia began to shift slightly. "Beetlejuice? Is there something wrong?"

He shot her an endearing snaggletoothed smile, rubbing the back of his neck, and her confusion lifted. He was as nervous as her. Unbelievable.

"No, no nuthin' wrong I just...well, are ya' sure about this babe? I mean like, absolutely fuckin' positive? I really need to know, 'cause if ya' ain't then just tell me. It's no problem-"

Sitting forwards, she laced her arms around his neck, and rained kisses down on his face, which served to render him silent. She admired and appreciated his respect and consideration for her, but she knew that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. And the insatiable longing she felt for him had been building, and was now an ache. She ached for him. No one had ever made her feel the way he made her feel. And she knew in her heart of hearts they never would. Of course there were sides to him she didn't completely know, and many parts of him she didn't understand. But it no longer mattered to her. It was those blank spaces that made her want to be closer, and what made her feel so comfortable around him. Those empty spaces no longer scared her, because he loved her, and she knew he would never harm her.

"I've never been more sure about anything in my entire life." She smiled gently into his wild hair, as she tried to steady her breathing. "Beetlejuice I...I love you."

Who knew that those three simple words could carry so much gravity when spoken with true feeling by the one you adored? Beetlejuice sure as hell didn't, after having forgotten long ago what it was like to love, and be loved. But now he swore those words had just brought him back to life. A searing tug on his once-dead heartstrings suddenly ignited a surging passion and intensity he'd never felt before in the cavity of his chest. She loved him? Fuck. She actually loved him, and she was giving herself to him willingly. Nothing on Earth, or any other planet or plane of existence could ever compare to that.

So what was he waiting for?

Tumbling back against the bed, his body came crushing down on her, their bare skin, warm against cold, stinging with the contact. He took possession of her lips in a passionate kiss, one that made her heart flutter and set her body aflame. Everything glowed, throbbing with anticipation.

Oh god, this was it. This was finally going to happen. It was really happening...

She arched into him, pressing her breasts into his bare chest. The welcome scrap of his striped trousers against her bare skin felt amazing, and a deep, utterly masculine groan tore from his throat. Overcome with the need to touch him, to really feel him, she ran her hands along his stomach, and she felt his muscles tighten as her fingers came to hover above his waistband.

He broke from the kiss in order to take a sharp intake of breath, something he hadn't done in centuries but it was instinctive, and primal. Brought on by the feeling of her hands fumbling at his belt. The girl was driving him nuts. He could feel himself careering towards breaking point, he was close to abandoning all restraint. He needed to take her. Roughly and gently, and in every way imaginable. Seemingly impatient, he assisted her with his belt. She heard the tell-tale sound of his buckle being undone, and shivered in anticipation. She couldn't turn back now. Not without having him. She wanted them to conjoin, to feel him inside her and see him come apart and know that they had done this together. The two of them.

Reaching down between them, she pushed his hand aside and practically tore open his trousers, forcing them down just enough to allow his erection to spring free. She couldn't see from her current angle but she could certainly feel, and had to suppress a gasp due to the size of his large shaft. Oh dear god, she was going to be torn in two with that thing! Gently she took him in her hand, causing him to throw his head back and moan appreciatively. He felt hard and heavy in her hand, and as she began moving her wrist back and forth, working him rhythmically, she could feel him harden further, throbbing against her palm.

Sparks shot through his body, and he had to fight to keep control. "Babe...you're fuckin' killing me here." He rasped, as he dragged his teeth along the skin of her neck, before licking the small sting away.

Then there was no more foreplay, no slow touching, or gentle petting as his fingers grasped her firmly by the hips, and he ranked between her trembling thighs, sucking in another deep breath as if to steady his nerves.

Lydia found herself holding her breath. She was about to have sex. Sex with a ghost. Sex with him, the notorious 'Betelgeuse.' But as she braced herself for his imminent penetration, any fleeting doubts she had was overruled by insatiable lust, and the unshakable love she felt for him.

She felt his length probing at her slick entrance, and bit her lip nervously. And then he was there. Pushing into her maddeningly slowly, inching further and further, stretching her to accommodate him. She yelped in pain, and her hands dug into his shoulders.

"Sorry babe, d'ya want me to stop?" His voice was filled with concern and uncertainty. "It'll get easier I promise, but hey, there's no pressure. I don't wanna hurt ya'."

Shaking her head in response, she screwed her eyes tightly shut. Trying to focus on something other than the immense discomfort as he cautiously pushed further until his entire length was sheathed inside of her. Placing a large hand at her hip to steady her, and ensure that neither of them moved, he immediately froze for a moment, to give them both time to recover. She was so incredibly tight, it would've been excruciating for him had she not been so wet.

Eventually her dark eyes opened, and locked on his. Without breaking eye contact he slowly, and silently began moving, pushing and retracting gently. The initial pain began to fade to slight discomfort, and she soon found the overwhelming sensation of having him move inside her, deliciously distracting. She could feel every inch of him impaling her in agonising bliss, unable to tell where he began and she ended.

"Ooh...god." She breathed, and saw his face contort as she instinctively began rocking her pelvis back and forth, matching his pumping motion. Spurred on by her actions, he propped himself up on one elbow, forcing their bodies closer as he increased his pace.

Moving together, his hips moved against hers, making her toes curl as the unmistakable heat and sweet tension began to stir at her groin. She found herself eagerly grasping him by the hips, and urging him on. He needed no persuasion to drive into her harder, he was more than willing to comply. "Aagh, holy shit.." He whispered raggedly against the curve of her shoulder. "...you feel so damn good babe."

Completely lost in the moment, she brought her slim legs up, crossing them at the ankle behind him, enabling him to push deeper, whilst wrapping her arms around his back so that all of her limbs encircled him tightly. Trapping him to her. She never wanted to let him go, or be without him. "Oh my god...don't...don't stop." She moaned breathlessly Her eyes had long since flickered shut, losing her senses to him completely.

They were grinding against each other vigorously. He felt so utterly divine she couldn't refrain from expressing herself vocally, and began to groan with his every thrust. He rewarded her by skilfully moving his pelvis in a tight circle, the rotation of which she felt deep inside, and thought she might come apart as he held her.

"Lydia, Lydia look at me." He demanded gruffly.

It took a great amount of effort to prise open her heavy lids, but she obeyed his command. Focusing on his devilish features as he gazed down upon her. "Keep your eyes on me baby, and say my name." The intensity of his voice matched his expression, as he returned to his previous thrusting motion, hitting just the right spot in order to send her floating towards the sweet abyss.

Her hands smoothed down the tensing muscles in his back, and grabbed at the curve of his ass through his trousers, feeling his rhythmic thrusting beneath her touch. Within the span of a minute or two, she was on the brink, and willingly surrendered to it. Her moans turning to cries of pleasure as the pulsating intensity of her climax racked her body, wave after wave coursing through her veins like a tsunami. Causing her to spasm and shake beneath him. "Ahh...Beetlejuice!"

His hands grabbed the sheets around her head, and his arms tightened around her. She couldn't breath, she couldn't move, and she wouldn't want to.

"Are ya' okay?" He murmured, his voice coming out all rough.

"Mmm hmm." She placed soft, feathery kisses on his sallow cheek, which turned to possessive ones as she shifted around in his embrace, feeling him withdraw from her. Even as she kissed him, she wasn't willing to accept that this was the part where they cuddled for a while and slept. She could sense his desire, still growing and burning like a fire. And she just couldn't get enough of him.

Tenderly he kissed her on the forehead, then her nose, her lips, and chin. But the journey of his lips didn't stop there. He moved southward, kissing the exact spot where she could feel her pulse. Licking, nipping, and swirling his tongue across her breasts as he went "Shit, babe. D'you have any idea what ya' do to me?" Slowly taking her right leg, he placed it on his shoulder and looked down at her.

Lydia would freely admit to being undoubtedly shy and bashful in the bedroom. Her sexual experience limited to the few intimacies she had shared with Brett. But whilst Beetlejuice no longer made her feel insecure, and had done things to her that reduced her to a quivering mess, the way he was looking down at her so intimately now, she couldn't help but try to pull her trembling, putty legs together. Which was impossible with the position he had her in...exactly at his mercy He looked into her eyes and the corners of his purple-tinged lips turned up, letting her know what he was going to do to her...with her.

In the next instant, he grabbed hold of her hips fiercely as if he wouldn't ever let go. She felt his presence at the centre of her, the sweet spot between her legs that was pooling with moisture. Feeling how hard and ready he was to take her again, the anticipation was painful. Like waiting at the top of a high peak, and not knowing if you would fly or fall.

He pushed in one long, hard thrust, sheathing himself deep inside her, and she whimpered some incoherent sound. Bracing herself, he pulled back, holding her hips as leverage, surged forwards and took up a punishing rhythm at the very first instant, determined to get her there again. And the bed rattled with the brute force of him.

Her head pushed back into one of his pillows, new pleasure flooding her, defeating in its intensity as he kept up the pace. Every thrust harder and deeper than the previous, leaving a beautiful, unbelievable impact on her body. She could feel him trying to stay in control but she wanted him to lose it. To feel like she did. Lost and found all at once.

"Ohh..Beetlejuice..." She panted, knowing her words would be enough to push him over the edge. "...please..please...take me." Her voice was needy and betrayed her every desire, as if her sweating, shaking body wasn't doing that already.

"Oh, fuck! Lydia.." He said her name like it was a curse word, in a low strangled voice.

She heard his sounds, so distinct and pleasurable with his every movement, and it was making her sprint towards the finish line rather than walk. Her nipples hardened, as she felt his eyes, wild, emerald-green and out of control, on her. Taking their fill.

He throbbed inside her languid heat, feeling the sensuous contraction as he drove himself into her, again and again. Holy fuck, it was the sexiest fuckin' thing he'd ever seen. The sight of his length sliding in and out of her, slick with her arousal as she clamped around him, made him lightheaded, and his limbs buzzed with excitement. He knew he was going to come soon...and come with the fuckin' thunder.

His thrusts quickened, and she could feel them, strong and deep. Her pulse rocketed and she swore her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her throat, her chest, and where they were joined. He placed a soft kiss to her leg, a stark contrast to the brutal rhythm he had set, and she cried out as the most intense surge of pleasure threatened to shatter her soul into a million pieces. Arching up off the bed, her entire body felt like a thread that had been snapped in two, and for a moment she thought she might actually black out.

His fingers on her hips sunk deep into her soft skin, his sharp nails leaving marks no doubt. He continued to pound unapologetically until a few moments later he stilled abruptly, his nerves and muscles bulging, as he let out a primal, animalistic sound. It was a sight to behold. And a mind numbing wave of pleasure consumed her, as she felt the distinct sensation of his release, spilling inside her. He thrust two more times, filling her to the hilt before involuntarily sagging, and falling onto her heavily.

Sweet god she loved him so much it almost killed her. And it quite possibly had, being as she was now stranded here with him in his grave. But she couldn't bring herself to think upon that right now. She wanted to wallow in the euphoria of having just slept with her husband. Most definitely the ghost with the most.

She was already aching, her body feeling extremely tender, but she couldn't have cared less. Inside she was glowing, Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buried her face into his chest as they both lay sated and spent, coming down from their high.

Lifting himself slightly, the deliriously happy ghoul pressed a kiss to her forehead, and smiled fiendishly at her. "Where've you been all my afterlife?"

Smiling uncontrollably, she honestly didn't have an articulate answer for him, or a witty comeback. So instead she just spoke from the heart.

"I don't know. I've always been right here I guess. Waiting for you to find me."