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Nights got cold in the tower. Very cold. One would think that the warm air would accumulate towards the ceiling, while the chill air lingered at the stone floor. Yet over the workshop, a small, drafty sleeping-quarters hugged towards the slanted ceiling. Because of the tower’s vastness, the room laid mostly bare, with the exception of a washbasin, a chair for clothes, and a simple bed where the royal sorcerer slept. Only a rickety wooden floor stood between the bedroom and the floor below, a trap door connecting the two, placed near the head of the bed.
In an attempt to keep warm, Cedric rubbed his bare legs with both hands. Stirring in his bed, he curled himself as small as he could, wrapping the comforter tighter around his frame. He still remained wide awake.
With some reluctance, Cedric stretched his neck and arm out from the confines of his blanket, and opened the trap door just to take a peek through. Wormwood was sound asleep on his perch on the floor below, which seemed like miles away. He shut the door quietly before he sat up on his knees, the comforter still around his shoulders. A shiver went through him. All the more reason to move a bit, he thought, and headed towards the hatch to the roof. Maybe it was agape. Although mostly used for stargazing, Cedric opened it during especially warm summer nights. Still, he could do without the mosquitos that followed. The hatch was seemingly shut. Yet, Cedric could swear he saw a rim of frost on the border of the wood. Hiss.
Turning around, he thought of what he could do next. The floorboards under his bare feet groaned at his first step, so he instead tiptoed back to his bed. He knew he wouldn’t get a break the next day if he awoke Wormwood by accident. Yet, when did he, really? In his absentmindedness, Cedric grabbed his wand from the side of the bed and laid back down.
“Glimmerus.”
Just a mutter, and flecks of starlight emanated from the tip of his wand as he drew shapes in the air. With a flick of the wrist, he made them float and take shape as tiny constellations. Cedric curled the blanket under his feet, still freezing. He shot a glance over to the chair where his cape hung over the back. Sleeping in the clothes he was supposed to wear in the morning was out of the question. The frayed sleeping-shirt and undergarments would have to do, just as a matter of principle. The constructs were nice to look at, but it didn’t give him much to do other than just lie there. Though Cedric knew the cold wasn't going to kill him, it made him uncomfortable. All he needed was some blood-circulation.
Just as he thought that word, a spell floated to the front of his mind. Just the thought of it made him disappointed in himself; he hadn’t even thought of it since his late teens at Hexley Hall. He sat back up with a slight groan, closing his eyes to visualize the specifications.
“Umbra, caleh,” He rolled his eyes, ashamed. “I know, you know. Paeluisum appareo.”
With a swirl of his wand and a small gust of wind, a translucent, spectral form began to materialize, soon taking the shape of a person’s lower half; fully formed and shapely, cut off right over the navel and right under the knees. It floated in the air, somewhat translucent, somewhat glowing bright blue in his dim room. The pelvis was a little larger than his own, and the line of the hips drifted his eyes to the lips residing between its thighs.
With some hesitation, Cedric took a hold of the sides of the spectral shape as it floated in the air. He swallowed. The flesh felt warm and soft under his fingers. He had only attempted the spell once, under the pressure of some of his classmates. Either they wanted to show off something forbidden on the school grounds, or they simply wanted to get a rise out of him. They had made him touch it on a dare, but nothing more.
Awkwardness crept up on him. He felt like he was being watched. Cedric cleared his throat before shooting another glance through the trapdoor on the floor. Wormwood was still snoring. Closing it quietly, Cedric sat up cross-legged.
“…Hi,” he tried, almost whispering. His eyes shifted across the shape for an answer. Its… “legs” crossed.
“Ok, good, you can understand me.” The hips spun around. He felt more nervous by the second. How else could he communicate well with… this ?
“Wait a second, let me…” With another flick of the wand, he conjured a spectral hand proportional to the hips he had just summoned, just as translucent and glowing.
“Show me what a ‘yes’ is.” The hand gave a thumbs up.
“And show me a ‘no’.” It gave him a thumbs down.
“Alright, good. And what is ‘pay attention’?” The hand floated to his forehead and poked it repeatedly with its index.
With the new framework set, he sighed and put his hands together; “Ok, great.” The hand now floated to Cedric’s cheek, a finger running over it, trailing to his chin. It, too, was warm and soft to the touch. He started to feel hot under the collar already just from this small sign of affection.
The hand rested at the dip of the construct’s hips, tapping its fingers, waiting. Cedric straightened his back and breathed in, making sure to keep his voice down. “You know why I’ve summoned you, yes?” Thumbs up. “And you’re fine with it?” Thumbs up again. “I just don’t want to assume. Do tell me if you want me to stop.” The spectral hand nuzzled his cheek again, and he took hold of the specter’s hips once more. With both hands on its thighs, he spread the legs open, albeit a bit gingerly. He brushed a thumb over the folds of its lips. A small shiver went through the construct, before resting their legs over his shoulders, pulling him in closer.
Cedric could already feel his blood-circulation picking up; the warmth in his cheeks spread down his neck. Invigorating. Yet a bit terrifying. The spectral hand put itself on top of his head, fingers deep in his locks. They weren’t prying or pulling; just massaged his scalp softly. It anchored him in a weird way, almost comforting. He hadn’t even started yet, and his head was already swimming.
With a shaky breath, he started planting soft kisses at the inside of its thighs, gradually working towards the construct’s slit. Although he was careful to go slowly, Cedric strained; his hands squeezed around its curves, as if holding on for dear life, nails digging into the flesh. A few pokes to his forehead made him look up from the task in front of him. The spectral hand rested at one of his own, loosening his grip.
“Pardon.” He huffed slightly, stroking over its backside with his fingers as a form of apology. Still, the specter’s hand returned to his hair, now running to the back of his head to urge him on. As if by instinct, he began to lean forwards on the bed until the specter’s back met the mattress. It now just occurred to him how painfully hard he was; laying on his stomach was difficult, yet it eased some tension grinding into the mattress. Trying not to whine through his teeth, he returned to the task at hand.
At this new angle, Cedric found it easier to spread the specter open with his thumbs on either side of the lips. Just as his tongue trailed slowly up the folds, spreading them, the hand in his hair tightened its grip. Though his pace had remained slow up until now, Cedric felt it difficult to hold himself back. He struggled to keep his breath steady, the desperation clawing at him. Hitting the head of his dick at an angle towards the mattress, a small whimper escaped him. The specter pet his hair, then twitched as he began to circle the clit with his tongue. The construct arched its back, lifting itself from the mattress slightly.
He varied in pace and manner of licking, picking up intensity, then planted his lips around the sensitive bud for better suction. Cedric’s brows knot in pleasure and concentration. It was so warm. The salty and savory taste made his head swim. Leaning further into the hot core of the specter, his hips seemed to move on their own, rutting harshly against the fabric of the bed. The construct’s legs wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him in place and grinding against his mouth. To match the specter’s pace, Cedric put his neck into his work; lengthening his tongue to stimulate as much as he could, yet still giving enough attention to the clit. Soon after, a deep shiver went through it; the hand tensed and vibrated slightly, while the rocking of the hips haltered and grew sloppy. Cedric lapped up its juices as it came in spurts.
Still not wanting to remove himself entirely from the specter’s warmth, Cedric’s mouth resided at its clit, letting it ride out its high by grinding against the flat of his tongue. His hands still resided around the flesh of the specter’s hind, massaging it without digging his nails into it. They both rested there for a moment, Cedric catching his breath. As the construct’s legs relaxed, he pulled away just slightly.
With a glance down his own frame, he cringed; the tent of his underwear was taught, and the leaking precum had stained through to his sheets. He rubbed the sweat from his brow. The strain started to affect his body; heartbeat reverberated in his cock, the sensitivity almost unbearable.
Lost in his own thoughts, Cedric didn't notice the specter had moved until the hand tapped his forehead yet again. He looked up, and it tilted his head up by his chin. Now at his knees, Cedric felt lightheaded, almost faint. His vision blurred, like his head started to float separately from his body. He could only focus on the spectral hand in front of him, and how it wiped his soaked chin, trailed down his neck, caressing his chest, before it settled on his waistband. Agonizingly slow, it dragged his underwear down. He could feel his heart pounding in both of his heads now. The construct must’ve surely known what it was doing. His cock sprung free and his mind clouded; only want remained. His tip stood up straight, burning angry, alert and dripping.
As the hand drifted away from him, the sorcerer’s focus returned to the hips of the specter, who in the meantime had turned its back against him. It had leaned over, propping its rear in the air. The spectral hand placed itself on the soft of its ass, where the dripping cunt spread open from the back.
Just that was enough to make Cedric wake up again. He lunged forward, pressing his length to the crack of its ass and rutted with a half-choked sob. Fuck, he could’ve come just then and there. Just the feeling of its warm and soft flesh felt like a relief. Of course, he wasn't far away from the real prize now. Taking another breath, he aligned his tip to the wet folds and inched forward. Though he wouldn’t consider himself “big”, the sorcerer didn’t want to rush or hurt the construct due to his own carelessness and, most embarrassingly, desperation. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, a gasp escaping his lips. He slipped through so easily, yet it was so tight and pulsing around him. Ripe. Willing. Prepared. Cedric's heart skipped a beat. Wanting to savor the feeling, he started off slow; his thrusts steady yet deep, just grazing the cervix for each stroke.
To angle himself better, Cedric leaned further down on the mattress, hunching over the specter, his pace quickening. At this point he was mewling; soft cries of want emanating from the bottom of his lungs. This didn't go unnoticed, as the conjured hand returned to his cheekbone in acknowledgment. It caressed him for a moment, only to place itself over the sorcerer’s mouth to muffle his moans. Of course, he thought, embarrassed. He wouldn't want to wake the whole castle. Yet, this small action of discipline egged him on; it reminded him of his desperation, hunched over and fucking like an animal in heat.
The slapping of flesh rang between the walls. With a hand on the dip of the construct’s hip, and the other steadying himself on the bed, Cedric’s pace grew relentless. It had felt as though he was right at the edge a moment ago, but now it felt like he could keep going forever, mindlessly pistoning himself in his conjured companion. The moans just wouldn't stop rolling out of him for each roll of his hips. The hand around his mouth almost vibrated from the sound he made; so much so that a mixture of the specter’s juices and his own spit fell in large droplets over his partner's back. Licking the hand made one of its fingers curl at his cheek in appreciation, and so Cedric positioned his mouth so that he could lightly bite down at it. If he were to reciprocate the discipline, he thought, he might as well play on it.
At the rate he was going, the stimulation soon became overwhelming; the warmth of the body beneath him, the grip around his flesh, he just had to slow down, just for a moment. Thus, he slumped further over the specter. Though the pace slowed, Cedric still upped the depth of his thrusts. The rhythm continued with gentle rolls of his hips, pressing himself tightly towards his partner. Cedric’s whimpers hitched, and the glowing hand rubbed his cheek with a thumb. He then got an idea; something he didn't think he needed until he thought of it.
Slowing his pace more, Cedric poked one of the specter’s fingers open with one of his own. It left his mouth and settled on the side of his face. He was almost down to a halt when he whimpered rather breathlessly: "W-would you… please, pull my hair…?" He couldn't feel further ashamed now, reduced to a babbling, desperate mess on his own bed, in his own tower, no doubt. Though the feeling of control had been liberating, being able to easily overpower the construct beneath him, Cedric still wanted something grounding. The hand over his mouth had provided it somewhat, yet he still wanted to up the restraint a little. Besides, he had always found that a little pain made the pleasure much sweeter. The specter didn't hesitate, and quickly found its way to his white and black roots, where the fingers tangled, braced, then tugged.
Cedric buried his face in his pillow to muffle a long whine that almost knocked the air out of him. With newfound stimuli, he returned to the breakneck pace, pleading for release. His throat hurt from moaning. The shame of his state and level of volume stung in the sweetest way.
Thighs shaking and knees threatening to buckle beneath him, Cedric was rapidly chasing the high he longed for. He made clear communication of that, as his hands grasped at the construct’s hips and his own bedsheets, threatening to rip them.
The grip on his hair stayed secure at the base of his scalp, yet the hand started shaking. He figured the construct was nearing its peak as well. Tears pricked from the corners of Cedric’s eyes, seeing stars from the weight of his blissful sensory overload.
He was sent careening over the edge with a wail.
The specter's walls clasped around his cock as it came as well; thighs shaking and going limp, the hand falling from his head, exhausted. They both collapsed onto the bed, yet Cedric’s thrusts remained consistent as he pumped his seed into the construct. Cedric breathed heavily, a high-pitched edge to his exhales. The slickness of the spectre's fluids mixing with his own was too much to bear, yet it milked him for everything he had, spilling onto the sheets in pools.
A few beats were spent catching their breaths; bodies close together; pulsing and mentally catching up with the experience they’d gone through. The sorcerer started to return to his senses; his lower back ached (Well, more than normally, on note of his chronically bad posture), as well as his knees and wrists. Though having no lungs, let alone an upper torso, the specter’s bottom seemed to move as if it breathed, its stomach softly rising and falling as it rested.
As not to burden the construct underneath him, Cedric rolled over to the side as his thrusts halted, taking deep breaths. His hands and feet tingled, a lightness in his head; the tension he hadn’t noticed before was gone. The sorcerer slumped further onto the bed as he relaxed. He laid there for a moment; undeniably warmer than previously, sweaty, in fact. Still, the cold air of the room soon pricked at his fingers and feet.
Cedric’s focus shifted back to the glowing hand as it moved. It tried to wipe off the residual fluids on its hip.
“Allow me,” Cedric straightened up slightly and reached for his wand. With a flick, the washcloth on the other side of the room lifted up, dipped into the wash-basin, then floated over to the out-stretched hand of the sorcerer.
“It’s a bit cold, I apologize.” As expected, the construct’s hand twitched and shivered as Cedric started to clean off the number of spills.
Now free of stickiness, the mage hand shook itself dry, then gently overtook the washcloth. It started drying off the conjurer's face, hips and appendage. It was, indeed, colder than expected.
The hand cupped Cedric’s face. A warm thumb stroked his cheek with a cleansing gentleness. He took it in his own and leaned his face into it, eyelids sinking heavier. Cedric rubbed a thumb over it, as if answering its own. His pulse was slowing down to a more comfortable pace. He sighed, then tensed as the specter started discorporating in front of his eyes. The construct flitted from existence, breaking up into smaller and smaller motes of light before disappearing completely.
He sat for a second, his own hand on his face. Of course that wasn’t meant to last, Cedric reminded himself. The spell was temporary, fully intended to get rid of stress quickly and efficiently without, as stated by the insolent fellow students that introduced him to the spell, “any of the annoying fuss after”.
Cedric adjusted his sleepwear and crawled back under his sheets. Recalling the memory of the spell, he really didn’t see what there was to avoid, or what the supposed “fuss after” even was. Silence? Boredom? Talking?
…Intimacy? Processing? Reconciliation?
Cedric felt something empty and longing set root in his stomach.
A gust of wind rattled the roof-tiling, but other than that, the silence of the room pressed down on him.
The sorcerer tucked the comforter further around his legs.
The imprint of the specter’s warm hand still lingered upon his face.
Cedric closed his eyes with an exhale, relaxing, wishing he could sink into the mattress.
Frost pricked upon his cheek.
Another cold night in the tower.