Work Text:
The detective was unable to sleep, not because the bed was unfamiliar (though it was, was supposed to be at least) but because something was touching him everywhere all at once. He couldn't feel the shape of hands or the length of fingers running through him, only the sense of being completely enveloped, overwhelmingly. It felt like he was submerged in deep waters with no clue of positions or directions, he couldn't escape, he could only helplessly feel the way his skin tingled and his muscles trembled beneath that almost eldritch sensation of touch, seemingly coming from nowhere.
Inside his mind, Edgar visualized the character in the book in his hands shuddering at an invisible touch, lying on the bed he had conjured to be similar enough to his own mahogany matrimonial bed. The detective always looked so small buried between its velvet sheets, and oh how he loved that sight, now only more so, with the way he shuddered and spasmed both from natural fear stirring inside him and from the physical reactions to the caressing, making that always so arrogant voice of his whine pitifully.
Edgar reread (and re-visualized) as he ran his thumb over the page, imagining those piercing green eyes, closed as always, and the way the too large pajamas slipped off one shoulder. His character was quite short, he sighed at the image, a whole head shorter than Edgar himself... Yes, he may like this size difference a little too much, sue him.
The character in his latest book (a short erotic novel about a detective sent away to a strange house to investigate its peculiarities under the orders of the owners), is a brunette Japanese man in his mid-twenties, currently staying at a luxurious manor, contrary to what he had been told about the place, his stay was going pretty regularly. He spent the day thieving in the kitchen, snacking on all the sweets he could find, and wandering the halls looking for every hidden detail that could be key to solving the mystery and getting to leave, Edgar knows Ranpo already knows, as usual, and supposes Ranpo knows Edgar knows he already knows, but Edgar lets him play his part.
Then the sun fell asleep, and as the sky was covered with a starless mantle of darkness, his first night in the residence began.
His room was ordinary, it felt strangely familiar, even though he had never been there before. The traditional Japanese structure mixed with foreign gothic furniture made him feel at home for some odd reason. His room was the main bedroom of the manor, he had asked to be given the guest room, but the owners of the house weren't staying there because of the strange, paranormal situations they claimed to experience. Though Ranpo hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary yet, they begged him to please stay in the main bedroom and see for himself, since they wouldn't have any problem with it, that's where he ended up.
It was cold, he was the only person in the house (since by now, the owners were already far gone and none of the servants wanted to spend the night there, Ranpo, being the great detective he is, told them they could all leave since he would do a great job on his own. This was clearly because he didn't want to share the mansion with anyone so he could eat everything in the kitchen without anyone scolding him. But we won't talk about that!)
Edgar chuckled as he read "We Won't talk about that!!!" in someone else's handwriting in his pages.
Then he took a bath, it felt great, then he put on the pajamas they'd lent him, which were a little too big, or maybe a lot too big compared to his normal pajamas. He supposed the owners thought the detective would be a bit taller than he actually is, that or they had some sort of fetish. Ranpo turned off the lights and curled up in bed, thinking the owners might just have a few loose screws as wealthy people usually do, everything they'd seen was probably just paranoia due to their property being so far away from any kind of human society.
Honestly the more he thought about it it could even have been merely the creaking of some old floorboards late at night, due to a particularly windy night, that made them start thinking there was a strange entity in this house, when in reality it was a perfectly normal house. Ranpo delighted in the idea of being a little malicious and telling them they were absolutely right! that their house was oh so terribly cursed! so they'd abandon it and he could live in this comfortable place with such beautiful views... but at last he decided to stay true to his principles and not tell them that, the house would get boring rather quickly anyway.
Once between the sheets the atmosphere felt much colder somehow, the detective was trembling in bed, teeth chattering together. He curled up further under the velvet sheets and tried to sleep, when suddenly he felt a great heat on his back, he turned to look but there was nothing, he was startled, but thought his half-asleep brain was playing tricks on him, so he settled back down and tried to sleep again.
In less than half a second, the heat returned, running all the way down his back. This time he couldn't move, he just waited and let it happen, the heat started at the nape of his neck and slowly traveled down to his lower back, it felt like a very hot liquid running over that entire area. The detective was frightened but tried his best to make no noise, until this eerie sensation also covered both his legs and passed slowly between his thighs, then he let out a gasp of surprise, his face turning red.
Ranpo didn't understand what was happening, after he turned to look and saw nothing, he lit the little lamp on the nightstand, but it quickly went out leaving him in complete darkness. The windows flew open, letting in even more cold, the curtains billowing. The only light now came from the moon very far away, and Ranpo was still trembling, from the terrible cold, and perhaps a little from (the terrible) fear, though he'd never admit that.
The heat had no definite shape, and for the first time in his life the detective didn't understand what was happening, and that made him feel terribly vulnerable, which only made his face flush deeper and deeper. Little by little this sensation started spreading, this hot liquid touched him everywhere, squirming, it felt thick and slow, like hot lava, or like boiling ink, it was as if something (or someone) was caressing, rubbing, melting over every inch of his body, with him completely unable to do anything except feel it.
In another part of the room (or maybe, to say it better, on another plane of the room) Edgar read the lines of his novel while imagining his boyfriend going through all of this, through this kind of violation of privacy and person that he had written. Visualizing it all knowing what was really happening and what would happen next... made a great heat pool in his crotch, growing more and more intense by the moment, he couldn't help taking one hand off the book and bringing it to that area, starting to rub himself as his face also turned redder and redder.
Inside the book, Ranpo felt more and more exposed, terribly vulnerable before this entity that was enveloping him as if he were sushi rice being covered by seaweed. At one point he even felt lips on his neck, almost shapeless, with the characteristic warmth of a person but without any breath brushing his skin, he simply felt lips and moisture against sensitive spots on his neck. Squeezing his eyes shut trying not to make a sound, he then felt teeth sinking into the bones of his hips, though like before nothing else that could characterize any person, and he knew there was no person in the room. He was completely alone.
Ranpo lay still on the bed, growing shyer and more nervous by the second, the sensation was so immense and so powerful that he couldn't escape, it was too stimulating, to the point that even though he felt violated he couldn't stop his body's reactions, this sensation of heat was like being completely embraced, so much so that at one moment Ranpo felt as if he were trapped inside someone's hand, hence all the warmth pressed against his own skin. He grew more and more nervous, his face flushing while small noises escaped his mouth, the detective tried to hide them by putting a hand over his mouth and biting onto it but his efforts were useless, because this entity, if it could be called that (the detective in this story had no idea, and it was driving him mad!) took his arm and pinned it against the mattress so he couldn't keep covering his mouth.
That made him even more nervous, and at the same time he began to feel that heat and sensation between his legs growing stronger and stronger, even stronger than on the rest of his body. No need for super deduction to know what's coming next, between gasps with a broken voice, he started to plead "N-no- No-"
That took Edgar aback for a moment and that familiar insecurity crept up, and his mind couldn't help but cry he took it too far. But then, thankfully, he remembered, Ranpo is never truly powerless, even here, trembling under an overpowering touch, at his mercy between the pages of a voyeur, Ranpo knows exactly what to do to be freed. He's choosing to be there. And Edgar knows that. Which, aside from calming his racing mind back to bliss, also made the heat in his stomach grow wider. Because it means every shudder and every whimper and every time the detective cracks, it's a gift Ranpo is giving him.
This thought just makes Edgar all the more excited, his face falls onto the pages he knows his darling is in, hoping the impact wasn't too noticeable, which makes him flush even deeper, if Ranpo could see him Edgar knows he'd taunt him about his red ears and nose, Ranpo can't see anything though, he can only experience what Edgar chose for him beforehand, he'd lie and say writing a short ero novel that's also a mystery had been difficult for him, but it's no secret he's done it before (c'mon, just look at him), the challenge was to tone it down since this was their first trying something like this. He hopes Ranpo likes it, he closes his eyes to visualize the detective inside the scene and, god, he's writing a character for himself next time.
In the scene, Ranpo feels everything around him shake for a brief moment, leaving him startled, but with no time to think about it as he was forcefully being stripped from his clothes, his skin burnt as this liquidy heat around him enveloped his now naked legs, it almost felt as if tentacles crawled upwards, wrapping around his ankles, caressing the insides of his knees and squeezing his thighs as if they wanted to burst them with force.
He lets out a shaky cry, instinctively trying to squirm away from this phantom sensation that was keeping him in place, he felt the heat palm over his nipples and gasped, then his hips thrust up involuntarily when the feeling reached his entrance, circling it torturously before pushing inside and dragging the air out of his lungs. It was impossibly deep, and it was nothing. There was nothing actually inside him, the lack of stretch made him whine pitifully as if he was begging to be actually fucked, but all he was getting was burning, liquidy heat melting and squirming all around him, dripping out of him to caress the rest of him.
For the lack of thrusting, it seemed the entity resorted to fading away the sensation slowly, only to increase it rapidly again, every time hotter and every time deeper, Ranpo felt it everywhere inside and out, outside it squirmed like tentacles, inside it melted and filled like lava, one unfortunate moment his lips parted to moan it entered his throat causing him to choke (mostly by surprise, since as much as he'd liked it his airways weren't actually being obstructed). This thing claimed him all around, he felt it rub all over his skin, multiple mouthless bites at his arms, wriggling under his toes and fingers like rings, melting down his throat to his guts, like he had drunk boiling honey and had it all over his teeth now, sliding up as deep as possible through every hole. Ranpo would say he was suffering some kind of horrifying sleep paralysis if his body weren't contorting and shaking against his will.
Edgar was so close, the vivid image inside his mind felt way better that when he had just imagined it, while one of his hands was still working on him, losing patience, the other was still firmly pressed against the book and he could swear he felt every part being described, he refused to open his eyes as it felt his consciousness had been split between here and there, feeling the detective as if he were against his skin, the smell of fruit scented shampoo clogging his nose as if he were right under it, his jaw was restless and his mouth was full of Ranpo, even though it was actually full of nothing, he was about to sacrifice touching himself to bring his other hand to this omniscient phenomenon but his body didn't allow him, getting rougher with the pacing reaching for his high as Ranpo should be close too.
And indeed he was close too, Ranpo had always been a fan of physical pleasure, he now thinks physical torture can count as pleasure if it is the right kind of overstimulation, which reaches its peak when this burning ink starts buzzing, like it was trying to electrify him from the inside out and the outside in. This intensifies until Ranpo can finally see stars in the midnight sky, with his eyes closed as he rides out his orgasm through neverending stimulation even after he was drained. Breathless and with the bliss cleared out a bit from his mind, he melts into the sheets and realizes it's too cold again, so he decides he wants to sleep somewhere else.
A golden glow shot out of the book and circled the room until it fell upon Edgar, a smaller man, naked and sweaty, landed heavily on top of him. Ranpo looked at Edgar with those beautiful green eyes of his and sighed, Edgar let out a small laugh then sighed too, he grabbed his now freed boyfriend for a passionate kiss, even though they were both out of air.
When they finally separated, Edgar began placing small kisses all over his face and neck, holding him close. They stayed like that for a few minutes catching their breaths. Until Ranpo seemingly having gathered enough energy to be his annoying, usual self, said:
"A ghost? Really? I thought you were more original than that! I figured it out the moment I saw the family pictures, the man in there was slightly different from the husband I met, of course it had to be his twin brother! who had killed his older sibling then replaced him. Then seeking vengeance the original husband had appeared in the form of an entity" Ranpo poked Edgar's still red nose, "Work out the plot holes though, why is the ghost kinky for the detective? is he gay and his new status as dead lets him explore this? how are you even gonna finish this story, Ed?"
Ranpo explained laughing at him as it was the most obvious twist in the world. Edgar was used to it, of course, but it still made him frown the way his detective, even after being breathless and naked in his arms, talked about his work like it was child's play. Maybe he needed to be thrown into another book.