I'm trying out the 100 story challenge thing, but since I doubt I can do all 100 in all genre, the stories are split. This is 71, Obsession
I've always wanted to do a story with this pairing...eheheheh...
Can you guess the girl before the dream ends?
All characters belong to Danny Phantom and Butch Hartman.
Who would have guessed that an all-powerful bloodthirsty ghost needed to sleep? It wasn't something that he exactly told everyone. It sounded weak, and he was anything but. Besides, there were times he'd like nothing better than to lie in that bed, and let slumber take over his mind.
After all, it was only there he could see her again.
It always started out the same…a pathetic group of loyal lackeys, serving just so they could live, would toss her in the room, and then flee for their lives. She'd sit up on her knees, arms bound by chains. Despite the fear showing in her eyes, and the trembling coursing through her body, she was incredibly beautiful.
He'd gently touch her chin, and force her to look at him. "It's been a while." He'd whisper. No response. "Come now, no hellos for your old friend?"
"You're not Danny." She'd whisper, shaking under his touch.
He would wave a free finger, tsking. "You know very well that I am. Isn't it funny? We nearly went through our entire puberty in denial, and now you're in it all over again." He would gently grab her bound arms, and help her to her feet. Of course, she gave a bit of a struggle in his arms.
"Let me go!" She would shout, trying to summon a bit of bravado. It was so endearing.
He would give a small chuckle, and then place a few fingers along her neck. She'd gasp, and after a few presses into her skin, her cheeks would tint. He would keep on massaging that special area for a few more moments, allowing her to relax ever so slightly. He'd wonder when it was enough…and, as soon as he decided, he'd press his mouth to her neck. He would begin gently…snaking his forked tongue along her heated skin, drowning in her shudders. In time, he'd go a little rougher, grating his teeth just along one of her veins.
"What are you doing…" She'd trail off, moaning softly. It wouldn't be long now. She was mere putty in his hands. All his…
With a snap of his fingers, the chains would slide off like melting butter. Without giving her a moment to think, he'd remove his from her neck, and place them instead on her mouth. Not wasting any time, he'd shove his pronged tongue into her mouth, claiming each and every part inside as his. He had waited far, far too long for this.
Then came his favorite part of the sequence…her hands would slide up his muscular arms, run through his flaming hair once or twice, and then just hold his head to be even closer to him. She wanted this, she wanted him. She was responding, and he had never felt so content.
He would grab one of her arms and pull her closer to his chest, leaving her mouth for now. As his lips made a path along her jaw line, he would whisper to her. "Tell me what I want to hear."
Silly girl, she wouldn't understand at first. She'd tilt her neck a bit, arching her back. "What…"
"Tell me what I want to hear." He would repeat, kissing her ear. "Tell me what I've wanted to hear ever since we were children. Tell me what you've always wanted to say to me." As a finishing touch, he would take a finger just under her chin, and then trial down it down to where her rapidly beating heart resided. "Tell me what you feel in there."
Finally understanding, she'd let out a coo of surrender, drowsily smiling. "I love you."
Unfortunately, another non-changing aspect of the dream was that he'd always wake up after she said that. He'd mull over just why that would happen, before leaving his makeshift home and heading to a place rarely scene.
The, in his opinion, rather ridiculous statue of the explosion at Nasty Burger still stood, although off balance. Mr. Lancer, his mother, father, elder sister, Tucker Foley, and Samantha Manson, in all their glory.
There was only one life he had regretted losing.
With a wave of his cape, he walked off, ready to cause more mayhem and destruction, as was his nature. The sooner he got to the demolition, the sooner night would come, and he could dream once more.
Maybe this time he'd be able to reply to her.
End.