Came Back Haunted

*This year I'm finally on time with my Halloween story!*

1.

Hazel sat at the front desk and watched as the dark man walked to the back of the library. He looked like one of those mysterious figures, which made her think he was heading down into the basement where they housed a collection of ancient tomes and eldritch texts. God, she hoped he wasn't going do anything foolish down there.  

As the senior librarian from one of the oldest occult libraries, Hazel was used to cleaning up blood and cadavers, but it was a Friday, and they were getting ready to close. She didn't want to bag and dump another one. The smell always clung to her clothes, and it always put the Spook in a foul mood.

Hazel imagined she would hear him scream, and a moment later she'd find him slumped over a desk with his eyes burning in his skull and his mouth agape. What she wouldn't give for a sign prohibiting simpletons and commoners from wandering down there.

"Follow him," the Spook hissed, and Hazel sighed and went after the man. The library would be closing soon, and she didn't want his soulless carcass down there all night. Maybe she could catch him before he evoked some of the old magic and his soul was sucked from his body.

When she made her way down to the basement, Hazel found a curious thing. Where she'd expected his twisted and lifeless corpse, she found the mysterious man leaning against an old oak bookshelf and reading from a massive dusty book. She could hear him reciting in a barely audible chant, invoking the magic text.

"Excuse me," she interrupted. He looked up from the book, and she got a good look at the blotchy incantations tattooed across his face, his sunken cheeks and ashen complexion, the mop of his messy raven colored hair, and his ratty black cassock. Hazel knew his type. He was a Necromancer.

"Hot," the Spook whispered, and Hazel reluctantly agreed, then immediately reminded the Spook of their agreement: no more goth guys, ghouls, or necromancers. But the Spook wasn't paying any attention to her. It was too busy eye-fucking him.

"Can I help you?" She asked before offering him a smile, not her professional one she had to wear when speaking to some rude commoner or high-nosed druid, her real smile. "We usually don't allow patrons to invoke the old magic inside the library."

The Necromancer smiled back before shutting the book. When he did so, dust flew everywhere, and Hazel fanned it away while he apologized. "I'm sorry. I was just looking to brush up on some things before my next journey into the catacombs." He smiled, and Hazel was surprised to see that he had all of his teeth.

"That's a nice smile," she told him, and the Necromancer beamed.

"Thank you. I found this perfect set while working over a crypt a couple of months back. I figured that the dead couldn't use them, but I could."

"Hot!" the spook repeated, and its enthusiasm vibrated throughout Hazel's body.

"I didn't catch your name. Mister-?"

"No Mister," he insisted. "Just Nesbit."

They walked upstairs together, and she checked out his book. While stamping it and getting his information, she caught a whiff of his scent, a masculine musk mixed with grave soil. Hazel had to clamp her thighs shut. She could feel the spook practically drooling over him, and Hazel reiterated their agreement. "No, no, and no!" But she could feel the Spook's anticipation weighing heavily on her, urging her to pursue this man and do unspeakable things to him.

"Speaking of plundering dark, lifeless places," Hazel had opened her mouth, but the words were not her own. It sounded like her, but with a dark resonance filling the space between the words. Before Hazel could stop the Spook, the rest of its expletives came out. "Do you wanna come back to our place and fuck us until we can't breathe?"

Hazel clamped her hand over her mouth. She felt heat rush to her cheeks. "Oh My! I-I am so sorry about that." Inside, she heard the Spook giggle. What was it thinking? She could get fired for talking to a patron like that!

Nesbit stood quiet for a moment, and Hazel wasn't sure if he was offended or amused. To Hazel's surprise, amusement seemed to win him over. He grinned his toothy grin and told her. "It wouldn't matter if you stopped breathing. I wouldn't stop. I'd just bring you back when we were finished." As if to emphasize this, he snapped his fingers, producing a flash followed by a puff of smoke and the faint scent of moss.

"Hot!" the spook told her. Hazel could feel its neediness practically vibrating inside of her.

2.

He waited around until the library closed, and Hazel met him out front. They didn't speak, not really. She simply looped her arm through his, and together they walked the seven or eight blocks back to her place. With every step they took, her anticipation grew more and more. By the time they reached Hazel's place, she was practically buzzing. She unlocked the door and led him in. The moment the door was shut behind them, she rushed him.  

The Spook had been gnawing on her restraint the entire walk, and now she hardly had any left. Hazel had her tongue down Nesbit's throat, and she groped him through his cossack. He dropped his library book, but it never hit the ground. It just hovered for a moment before quietly floating off.

He groped her through her dress before lifting it off of her. "Whoa," Nesbit said, looking in awe at her body, or was he more impressed with the Spook's sigils which went down between her breasts? Hazel couldn't be sure, but she thought it was probably both.

"Yeah, she answered proudly, "it's from my first resurrection."

"Look's intense."

"It was," she agreed. "I came back haunted. I have a Spook that knocks around here." Hazel tapped her temple comically, which made the three of them laugh.

They retreated to her bedroom, where she started undressing him. First, she pulled off his cossack, revealing a chest lined with scars. She marveled at the cross-stitching around his neck and saw traces of Corpse wax there. He wasn't just a necromancer; he was a patchwork guy too.

Patchwork people were rare in Hazel's neck of the woods. They were usually a little crazy, resourceful, and had a high pain threshold, which always amazed her, considering Hazel was once brought to tears after stubbing her toe. The Spook had laughed at her.

"I used to have a temper," Nesbit told her. "But I don't lose my head anymore." Hazel snorted with laughter. It was a corny joke, but with this nervous energy wriggling inside of her like fat worms in soil, it just sort of landed.

Next, she pulled down his pants. She worked them down his thighs until Hazel was staring at an unusual cock. It too was stitched onto Nesbit, but more so than the stitches, the color gave it away. While the necromancer maintained a pale complexion, the cock attached to him was green like juniper.

"You like it?" He asked. "It took me ages to find this one." Nesbit gestured down to the long green drooping cock. "I took it from a goblin that was on his way out."

Then he made a throat-cutting gesture. "Really, I got lucky. I was in the right place, at the right time." But Hazel hardly heard him. She was too busy getting lost in the miasma that clung to his cock. It was lovely and pungent.

Once, before her second or third resurrection, she encountered a wild and rowdy trio of goblins who had come to the library just to cause mischief. She'd spent the better part of the day trying to get them to stop climbing on bookshelves, hanging from the ceiling fixtures, and throwing grimoires at other patrons.

What was worse was that goblins rarely wore clothes, and even though it was library policy, they'd come in naked as the day they were born. They were troublesome, but Hazel had to admit, for such short creatures, they were well endowed. Nesbit smelled like they smelled. His cock was like their cocks, not one with a mushroom head like humans and dwarves, but long and intimidating like an animal's.

It began to stiffen. Nesbit was halfway hard when she'd disrobed him, but now it was climbing more and more, becoming as hard as stone right before her eyes.

"Hot!" the Spook screamed inside of her.

As the last inch of his goblin cock hardened, Nesbit gestured for Hazel to lie down. Hazel was suddenly nervous. She'd never taken anything that long before, but the Spook urged her to just lie back and spread her legs, so she did.  

She expected Nesbit to immediately begin to pound her like a stake through the heart, but to Hazel's surprise, he didn't. Nesbit climbed on top of her and began teasing her little pussy with his cockhead until she was slick with excitement.

"Come on," Hazel prompted when she couldn't take it anymore. "Fuck me like I'm your damsel. Put me in distress."

She thought that he'd pound into her then, pound into her hard enough to wake the dead. But instead, Nesbit flashed his perfect toothy grin before sliding into her slowly. He scraped the walls and filled her, reaching far back into Hazel until she felt a frenzy creeping in from the corners of her mind. She closed her eyes and let the sensation consume her until she swore she felt him in her stomach.

"There you go," he said, and the Necromancer hummed in satisfaction.

No, not the pounding she anticipated, not the sordid fucking of two less-than-fresh bodies; that's not what Hazel got. Nesbit felt amazing at first. But where she could lose herself in the intensity of raw rutting, this was slow, exquisite torture. This was being bound and tied on a pyre and being roasted by the flames of pleasure. This was-

It was almost too much! Hazel would have almost preferred if he'd ravaged her like some wet behind-the-ears meat puppet. This barbed pleasure, this bitter ecstasy was too much! It was macabre, cruel, and amazing all at once.

Her body began to convulse, then she stilled for a moment before convulsing again, as if she were fighting for her life. Her first climax was an unexpected rush. Hazel felt the plume of pleasure rush up her body. A moment later, her eyes bulged, and she could barely breathe as her mind began to dissolve and she drifted down into inky black midnight.

There was a moment when Hazel was drifting in that darkness. Wherever she was, she felt her legs twitch as her orgasm lingered. She hadn't expected it to be so acute and ravishing, so much so that when Hazel opened her eyes, she saw something very peculiar. Herself.

"I can't wait anymore!" Her voice again, only with that dark resonance oozing between the words.

Hazel was floating above her own body, an incorporeal voyeur to her and this Necromancer. But if she were here, as solid as a thought, then where was the Spook? Hazel got her answer while watching her body change.  

Her eyes rolled up to their whites, and her face filled out. Her breasts and hips became fuller, and her nails lengthened an inch or so. The Spook had lurched forward inside of her and took the reins.  

Hazel watched on as Nesbit noticed the transformation. If he was worried, it didn't show across his face, not even when the Spook sat up and forced him down on his back. It puppeted her body, drooling down onto his cock, before slowly dropping her hips onto him.

"Oh," Nesbit said, "you must be the Spook." He sounded amused, and Hazel figured a necromancer probably came across spooks, ghosts, and specters all the time. Yet, she thought she saw something in his eyes, something that might have been worry.

Nesbit's confidence wavered for a moment as the Spook climbed up onto him. She growled like a mongrel before squatting down and forcing his cock further and further into her cunt. When it had every inch of him inside, the Spook began to rock her hips, which prompted Nesbit to moan. Hazel observed all of this from her disembodied position, and though she could still feel a trace amount of their congress, it was faint and paled in comparison to when she was in control.

There was no passion in their sex. It was bestial, as if their bodies were at war with one another. The Spook began to ride him hard in a fervent gallop, and Hazel watched on, thinking, "This! This is what I expected!"

"Hot!" The Spook insisted, "Hot, Hot, Hot!" It drooled a little as it ranted, and Hazel thought it was a little embarrassing.  

"Shit," she thought, "She's really enjoying this."

The Spook worked her hips faster. She could here it's breathing become labored and watched with strange fascination as her breasts slapped against her body. It was really amazing what the Spook could do when it was in control.

Nesbit took hold of her hips and began trying to match her intensity, digging his heels in and thrusting with renewed vigor. "Atta-boy," Hazel thought. "He's still in the race." 

He suddenly seemed determined not to let the Spook get the best of him. Nesbit thrust hard enough into Hazel's body that even in this spectral form, she felt it. Hazel thought the Spook was still hanging in there and riding him hard, but she could see some of its resolve beginning to wane. It was enjoying itself, much like Hazel was, but Nesbit's supernatural stamina, paired with his goblin phallus, were proving more than a match for the Spook.

Finally, there came a climax so twisted and intense that both Hazel and the Spook felt it at once. Distantly, Hazel heard a loud and ungodly cry fill her bedroom. The Spook seemed to take this as a good time to exit. It turned and fled back into Hazel, and all at once she was shunted forward, back in control of her own autonomy once more.

She clenched around him, becoming a fountain between her legs, and as the climax ebbed, Hazel felt her body slowly bend and recede back into its natural shape. She nearly fell off of Nesbit before collapsing forward onto the Necromancer's chest. She lay there for a moment, panting and still feeling the dregs of her climax.

​

3.

"Fuck, that was amazing." But when Nesbit didn't answer, Hazel raised her head, wiped a wild lock of hair out of her face, and looked up at him.

The Necromancer lay still, and she saw that the light of life had been extinguished from his eyes. Had that been his ungodly cry she heard earlier? Judging from his loose smile and rigid stiffness, she thought so. Nesbit looked like he'd been perfectly fucked into oblivion.

She heard the Spook give a triumphant cheer inside of her, but Hazel didn't share its enthusiasm.  

"No," she stammered. "Not again!" Hazel closed her eyes and summoned the Spook back. "Goddamnit, help me fix this!"The Spook was reluctant, but it rose up inside of her, not to take control but to offer up some of its power. Together, they raised Hazel's hands in a double fist where they harnessed just enough dark energy. Then, they brought it down on the Necromancer's chest with all of their might.

The energy formed a spike and pierced Nesbit's chest. A heartbeat later, he jolted up like a man awakened from a nightmare. Hazel saw the light of life back in his eyes and felt his climax let loose inside of her, a warm and pleasing delay due to his untimely demise.

When Nesbit was finished, she rolled off of him, and they lay shoulder to shoulder as jets of his sticky alabaster escaped her. Hazel thought he might panic, grab his things, and split. That seemed appropriate. After all, sane men didn't fuck so hard that they died, then were okay with being brought back to life by otherworldly powers. But to Hazel's surprise, Nesbit didn't panic. Instead, he began to laugh maniacally.

"That was amazing," he yelled, and neither Hazel nor the Spook could believe what they were hearing.

"I told you we shouldn't have gotten involved with a Necromancer," the Spook whispered.