Delusion

She haunts him, waking and sleeping both -- the ghost of her fingers on his skin, her breath whispering through his hair, her mouth on his neck. He knows she's not there, but she feels achingly real all the same, warm curves pressed against him. He dreams her at night, wakes with her name choked on his lips and his cock painfully hard, all too aware of Marie in the next room and how sound echoes on bare stone. He knows he should ignore it -- to dwell on her phantom presence is to invite the madness closer -- but he can't, aching like he does for her. He certainly can't keep from responding, from shoving a hand through tangled sheets and into his boxers to fist around his weeping length, from pumping his hips to thrust into the ring of his fingers until he comes, gasping her name as he spends himself. Her chuckle seems to echo in his mind.

"You'll never be rid of me," she whispers; her arms slide around his waist, fingers stroking his groin as her lips brush his earlobe before her teeth close on it. "Not that you mind, I think."

He shudders, eyes closing. "Don't, Medusa." If he doesn't see her absence, he can pretend she's actually there and he's stupid instead of mad.

"Don't what -- tease you? Oh, Professor, turnabout is fair play." She bites his shoulder, a little harder, and between that and the light touch of her fingertips he feels himself harden again. "Besides, you're obviously enjoying it. I know you want this. Stop thinking so hard about it and just fuck me."

As she breathes the words against skin, Stein feels an electric thrill jolt up his spine. He knows this is all in his head, just one more manifestation of his madness, but she feels so real -- surely no dream could be this solid and warm. "Why you?" he asks, even though he knows it's silly.

Her fingers skim over bare skin as she moves to straddle him, slick heat pressed against his straining cock. "Because I fascinate you, Professor. I'm a puzzle you haven't unravelled yet. Maybe if you'd fucked me in Shibusen you'd have gotten this out of your system and it'd be someone else in your head. The Death Scythe they've got you partnered with now, maybe or that little pigtailed bitch." Roll, slide, wicked chuckle at his sharply indrawn breath. "Or maybe it'd be the other side of it. Your old sempai? That zombie?"

He moans and grabs for her, but she bats his hands away. "It'd still be you, damn it," he rasps. "Fucking you would solve nothing." It certainly solves nothing now.

She laughs as she rises up, though the sound dissolves into a hiss as she slides down onto him. She is hot and wet and tight, and he moans again at the feel of her surrounding him. "Why, Professor, I didn't know you cared."

"Medusa ..."

There's a little of warning in his voice, but she just moves up, nearly off of him, before snapping her hips back down again. When his hands reach for her again she does not try to evade him, and he digs his fingers into her skin and thrusts up to meet her. It's been too long, and she feels too good, and --

His climax rushes over him unexpectedly. He hears someone scream Medusa's name; it takes a minute to realise that is his voice, lost as he is in a wash of heat and light as he comes. He is dimly aware of her tightening around him, his climax pushing her over the edge in turn. She collapses against him, arms no longer able to support her; her heart thuds against his own, her breathing ragged.

"Medusa," he whispers, softer now. He knows she won't be there when he opens his eyes, but it still surprises him to see the empty shadows of his bedroom and his hand splayed above his softening length, splattered with his own come.

No, he thinks. Even if he'd fucked her back in Shibusen, it would have made no difference.