Chapter Text
You felt yourself cringe internally, becoming red with shame at the memory from yesterday, asking Beetlejuice as nonchalantly as possible if he could just... stay, and not go back to the Netherworld, when the day came to a close, this time...
"Ya mean like... fer how long?" he asked, eyebrow raised, balancing on the heels of his boots before letting himself tilt them back down flat.
"Well, for... uh..." You knew what you wanted to say.
Forever.
Don't go home. This is your home. I am your home, bugbrain!
His expression went from puzzled to... something more sensitive. His brow pinched up, waiting for your answer. He shifted his hands in his pockets. The sound makes you panic about the very apparent silence growing in the room, like invisible knives stabbing at you, daring you to spit it out.
"Lyds... babes... you don't want me stinkin' up the joint any more than I already do." He smirks at you.
Too late, you think to yourself, a faint smile flashed over your face, gone as quick as it half-heartedly came.
You swallow your feelings like you've done every night for years. A slimy lump of saliva slides down your painfully dry throat. You force out a giggle and shift on your feet.
"Ha... right. I'll see you tomorrow, then."
Beetlejuice stares for a moment at you, stern eyes sunken deep into a soft expression, almost... sympathetic. You feel like you might melt if he stares daggers at you a second longer, til he throws half a grin at you as he starts to turn away, grumbling, "Alright, kid. Don't go callin' fer me too early, I got a babe I promised to, uh... well, see ya, Lyds."
Your heart drops to the floor. He disappears like he does every night, leaving your room feeling so empty, you sink to your knees feeling as though the emptiness might crush you to death. You would welcome it. You already miss his gravelly voice. You fight the burning feeling of tears forming.
You try your hardest to fill your mind with happier thoughts. You cannot focus on that last... fucking thing he said. You shake your head as if the motion will reset your train of thought. For a few moments, it does.
Happy thoughts, calm thoughts... his mouth.
Beetlejuice has, undoubtedly, the absolute cutest mouth. Every time his expression left it open, barely parted, you stared at it longingly. Imagined gently pushing two fingers into his sweet, pathetic mouth, coating them with his otherworldly saliva, pushing down onto his tongue, gently tracing the shape of his plump lips with your fingertips, then inserting your fingers into your own mouth, eyes locked onto his as you lovingly suck his spit from your fingers. You knew it was an action just weird enough to make him give you that shocked, confused expression that you loved. Deep down, you hoped he'd actually be turned on by it.
You daydreamed endlessly about gently kissing his adorable face. Bringing your hands up around either side of his neck, not minding the patches of moss & mold. Breathing in deep to smell the cemetery dirt and funeral incense you grew so incredibly fond of over the years.
When he'd leave after one of your adventures, and you thought your need for him was perfectly sated for the day, you'd catch a hint of his musk in the air of your room and tears would well up in your eyes as your heart felt squeezed and your stomach felt like a blackhole.
You ached for him.
You know that no one else you'd ever ask would agree with you about how cute he was, and that meant absolutely nothing to you.
Good. You think to yourself.
You don't want anyone else to think about him the way you do. They don't deserve to. He's yours. There are a billion other guys out there. They can have all of them.
This one is fucking mine.
You subconsciously claw your nails down your black leggings. You sat at your dresser, staring past the mirror in front of you, into nothing. Seething. Your leg bounced anxiously, the only sound in the room was of fabric sliding beneath your skirt.
Your mind was clouded in a thick fog of possessive thoughts and urges. You couldn't help but let your mind wander to thoughts of all his past lovers, whom you never met and hopefully will never will meet. And yet, they were haunting you in this moment. Their faceless bodies viciously teased you, circling you like vultures, their words bleeding in and out of focus, overlapping in your brain.
...Ha! Beej couldn't get enough of this pussy when he...
...He came over and over in me, told me I was the best he ever had...
Gritting your teeth, you angrily side-eye the clock near you, rolling your eyes when you see the time.
Shit...
You decide to stop torturing yourself with imaginary past lovers of your best friend and grow the hell up.
Nope, can't move past it. What the fuck is he doing with that "babe" he mentioned? Who is she? How does he know her?
Your brain feels like it's on fire with jealousy.
You know you should be more mature. He's a grown dead man, a ghost! He's allowed to have a past, allowed to have an active sex life, too...
An image blazed in your mind for a moment of Beetlejuice in the throes of ecstasy with a random person... some random bitch touching his skin, tasting his mouth, feeling his...
You almost say it. Your body is so overcome with anger that you stand up abruptly, chair falling back behind you, and feel his name fill your mouth like acid, but before you can summon and interrogate him, your phone goes off.
Someone's calling you. Not a contact in your phone, but you still know who it is. You try to clear your mind before you answer it.
Deep breath.
"Ash, hey! Sorry I didn't call you on time, I got... I was, uh... still brainstorming about our project." The flames in your mind simmer down from a forest fire to a small fireplace in the corner of your brain.
"It's cool, just thought I'd reach out, in case you forgot about me." He chuckled softly. He was nice. Easy to work with. One of the few classmates you had in college that didn't bore you to death.
"Nooo, of course not," you cooed, "let's start where we left off in class the other day..."
Twenty minutes later, you felt level-headed again, ending the call and slumping a little into your chair, closing your notebook with a pen still inside. You think to yourself that now is as good a time as any to talk to Beetlejuice about your petty concerns, while you're still calm and just... curious, about who this... person... is. Just... wondering, that's all.
You take a deep breath in.
"Beetlejuice... Beetlejuice... BEETLEJUICE."
You don't see or hear anything. There's usually a big entrance with him... For a few seconds, anger starts to pool in your stomach again, imagining that he's ignoring you for someone else...
You hear his sandpaper voice grind out behind you, "Babes, I know I said not to call me too early but I didn't think you'd wait that long, jeez." You spun around to see him standing a few feet behind you, palms open and out on either side of him, looking down on you with a disappointed expression.
You took in a quick breath, briefly enjoying his smell returning to you before responding. Your heart feels warm, letting his image consume your vision.
"So..." You saunter over to him, casually as possible.
He airs out the jacket of his black and white striped suit for a moment, then shoves his hands into his pockets and eyes you up and down with a curious grin as you step closer and closer. You notice the dust he shook loose from his suit slowly falling and settling in the rays of the sunset peeking in through your window.
"What were you doing? Who were you with?" You regret asking two questions at once, but they're out there now.
He looks away from you, coyly smiling. "Oh just helpin' out a friend. I'm a busy guy, Lyds, lotta people lookin' fer help from the ghost with the most, know-what-uh-mean." He shrugs his shoulders, takes a sharp breath in through his nose, still not making eye contact with you.
You're right in front of him now. His body is turned slightly away from you. Your hands are gripped together tightly behind your back, an anxious pose that you know doesn't look as innocent as you hoped it would.
You try to match his casual energy, looking away from him as you speak but ultimately failing. There's nothing else in the world as wonderful to look at as him. "Right, but... can't help but remember you called them a 'babe', so..."
He stays eerily still, refusing to meet your gaze. Opening the left side of his jacket, he reaches into a pocket and takes a small, wriggling green beetle out and crunches down, biting it in half. "...I kinda call every babe a babe, babes..." he says with a mouth full of bug shell fragments. He tosses the other half of the beetle in his mouth with a juicy crunch.
You hate that answer but you can't stop a giggle bubbling out of you, watching him nonchalantly eat a bug like that. He isn't taking you seriously, though. You need him to know you deserve a real answer. You reach your hand out toward his tie. It feels silkier than you remember. You pull it gently toward you, drawing him closer. He sucks his teeth with his tongue, still swallowing his snack, and stumbles a little in your direction.
"Beej... who is she, to you?" You want to sound as neutral as can be, but there's a subtle desperation in your deadpan tone.
Beetlejuice is looming over you, head tilted almost all the way down to meet your gaze. He isn't tall, but he's taller than you, and you feel his height lingering over you like a threat. A mischievous smile spread over his smug face as his eyes bore into you. "Aww, kiddo... don't tell me yer... jealous?"
His tongue slides over his front teeth, more seductively than you'd like to admit. Yes, for fuck sake, you were jealous! And he didn't seem to really care at all!
You involuntarily slide your hand up his tie, still in your grasp. He glances innocently at your hand movement without moving his head, and while his eyes are elsewhere, you take a second to leer at his slightly parted lips, still somehow adorable after consuming a live insect. They were a light, faded pink hue. So lively on his decaying face. You can't stop yourself from forgetting for a moment about your probing questions, completely enamored with the handsome ghost inches away from you. Beetlejuice was always the one holding all the cards in every situation. Not this time...
You grip his tie even tighter, and let your impulses take over.
You sharply pull it down. Beetlejuice grunts in a higher pitch than you've heard before, letting you pull him down to his knees with his tie, lightly thudding to the hardwood floor. The sun has set completely now, the last rays of light having just faded from your window, leaving his face slightly obscured from the darkness. You focus your eyes through the dark on him. You want to see him become putty in your hands. His eyes gaze up around you, wide and surprised.
"Lyds..."
You swear it seems like he's holding his breath. You watch him swallow hard. Gripping his tie from the base at his neck, you pull him up toward your face with some force, his arms limp at his sides, his mouth so close to yours. You feel the coldness of his skin almost touching yours. His eyes quickly become heavy, half-lidded, pupils fully dilated, and you feel so wet looking down at his pathetic puppy dog face. For the first time you felt like you had him completely in your control.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
Your phone. God dammit.
Closing your eyes, shut tight out of annoyance, you let go of his tie and power-walk over to your dresser.
Beetlejuice sank a little into the floor, resting on his hands, before quickly jolting up and readjusting his suit, clearing his throat.
"Oh hey, Ash, what's up? Oh yeah, I can bring that in tomorrow, good thinking..."
You wrapped up your call and felt your heart race, coming to the realization of what you just did with your powerful ghost friend. Would he be upset with you? You slowly turned around to face him... but he was gone.
Fuck...
-----
The next morning, you woke up feeling so tired, you almost decided to stay home from classes, but didn't want to deal with the guilt of sharing a failing grade with your partner. The project wasn't due yet but your teacher made attendance count for more of your grade than anyone thought was necessary. You sigh, and blush, recalling why you were so tired - staying up way too late, masturbating a few too many times while remembering how sweet and pathetic Beetlejuice looked on his knees, looking up at you.
You want so badly to summon him next to you now, in your warm bed, but you're so afraid of how he really feels after yesterday, especially since he just disappeared on you without so much as a goodbye.
You finally muster up the energy to pry yourself out of bed and get ready for class.
-----
You can't get his sweet face out of your mind all day. You sink lower into your chair at your desk, eyes glazing over, unable to stop your imagination running wild. Your teacher's voice droning on into the background, muffled out by your embarrassing, horny fantasies of a rotting corpse. You finally can't take it anymore. You get up and leave your classroom.
You make your way up to the highest and least occupied area of your old college building. It was more or less an attic with some janitorial supplies shoved into a corner of shelving. A small, cold, dusty attic, with a few slits of sunlight peeking through the old roof. Perfect.
You take in the silence, satisfied with how secluded this area feels. You start to whisper his name, more seductively than you mean to.
"...beetlejuuuuice... beeeetlejuuuuice... beetlejuice!"
You look around desperately in the heavily shaded area, and then, you see a familiar outline in the shadows, leaning up against a wooden beam. He walks a little closer in your direction, stepping into a small pool of sunlight.
"Sure know how to set the tone, babes..." his gravelly voice was a little quieter than usual, sensing the stillness of this place.
"Beej... I hope you aren't... upset with me, about yesterday..." You hold your breath, waiting for his response. Your heart races.
He lowers his gaze down at you.
You step closer to him, taking in the details of his face bathed in what little warm light there was here. You could see now that he had a soft smirk on his face. The harsh wrinkles in his skin only made you wetter for him. Something about knowing how truly ancient he was, while still being spry and ready to please, fed your hunger for him. You always preferred older men, and Beej was about as old as you could ever hope for.
"Never seen that side of you before, kid..." he purred in your direction.
"...but uh... can't have a lil breather like you thinkin' yer the one callin' the shots, honey. Not how this works."
You feel your face flush. You can't stop the smile spreading over your face. You inch closer to him, letting his scent fill your lungs.
You hear his words but he can't take away your memory of his eyes looking up at you last night, pleading for whatever would've come next. You know now what feelings are brewing beneath the cold, hard surface of his ego. You feel like you know what he really wants, but would never ask for.
Reaching a hand up to his face, you cup his cheek and let him rest his head into it. He naturally leans into your hand, like the soft little creature he is. You gently run your thumb over the moss and mold at the corner of his mouth, brushing against his full lips.
His stare is intense and unyielding. You smile to yourself, thinking about how unbreakable he thinks he is. You are the only one who could ever see him in this light, to see this demon as an innocent little creature, even if only in a moment like this. Brushing your thumb over his mouth again, he barely parts his lips. It's not enough. You snake your other hand over his shirt, up his neck, grazing a thumb over his ear purposefully to audibly stimulate him. You feel him ever so slightly quiver at the sound.
It's working. You tangle your fingers into the back of his head, getting a firm grip on a handful of green-tinged blonde hair. His eyes slightly widen, brow furrowed. You better fucking not, you know he's thinking. But his arms wrapping gently around your waist tell you another story.
You tug, with more force than you would with anybody else. His head tilts back slightly into your grip. His eyes roll back. He exhales the sweetest, most pathetic moan you ever heard. You feel your clit swell. You watch his face intently, your eyes resting where they usually do, on his adorable mouth, now fully parted. He rubs his face more into your hand on his cheek. You can't stop yourself. You gently slip your thumb into his mouth, feeling your pussy throb from arousal watching him take the bait and wrap his lips around it, sliding his tongue over your skin, sucking gently. You loosen your grip and glide your fingers up higher on the back of his head, finding a nice grip, and tugging again, forcefully. He lets out a restrained gasp with your thumb deep in his mouth, heavy-lidded light blue eyes barely open to stare back at you, seductively. How dare he hold back.
You bring your mouth up to his neck and sink your teeth deep into his pale flesh. He wasn't prepared for that. His eyes roll back again and he can't stop the pathetic moan that escapes his throat. You smile against his neck, bringing your mouth up next to his ear. "Good boy..." You feel him inhale sharply, and suddenly, he steps back from you. Your body aches from his sudden absence. You stare him down, almost morphing from lust to rage.
He is uncharacteristically out of breath, eyes barely able to focus, one hand on his hip, the other up to his forehead.
"...*pant*...never ...been called that before, babes. There's a good reason, ya know."
Your eyes wander down his body, below his beer belly, to the surprisingly large erection filling out his pants.
You close the gap between the two of you. You use the palm of one hand to cup his boner tightly. He flinches at the sensitive contact with a soft yelp. You giggle at the sound, like music to your ears. Your eyes bore into his. Behind his purplish black eye sockets are hungry blue eyes, staring back at you with a child-like innocence.
"I know what you are," you sing to him, sweetly.
His eyes fill with fear.
You caress his erection through his pants, fondling the head with your fingertips, feeling him twitch beneath the silky fabric.
"No...babes...don't say it...I gotta reputation to maintain, honey, please..." he growls.
You bring your free hand behind his neck and fill your palm with his hair, again. You hear his breath hitch. He's quivering.
You bring your lips directly against his ear. "You're my good boy..." you whisper, pulling a handful of hair, gently this time.
You feel his cock pulse in your palm, precum pooling at the head, staining and seeping through the fabric. His hands grip your waist uncomfortably tight.
You hear a door open behind you.
You gotta be fucking kidding me...
You spin around to see a man in a janitorial uniform. He's pushing a mop bucket into the room. He squints into the low light in your direction.
"Someone in here?"
You glance back at Beetlejuice but... for fuck sake... he's gone. You wish you could turn invisible, but, since you can't, you sheepishly emerge from the shadows toward the door.
"Hi, sorry, got lost, I'll be on my way..."