Phantom Sensation

CW: Mention of genitalia, dubious consent

There were three boxes left. Just three. Three . . . medium-sized . . . boxes. Just those three to unpack, and then he'd be officially unpacked and living in his new home! As he stared at the box he sat in front of, long legs tucked around it, he slowly raised the boxcutter in his hand towards the shiny tape and determined that if he had no distractions, he could totally do this.

A loud bark of laughter erupted from the kitchen. He turned his head to see his friend Jordan sprawled on the concrete floor, phone held above his face. No doubt he was looking at some shit on TikTok. "Eddie, come check this shit out!"

"One sec." Eddie grunted as he immediately heaved himself up, a grimace flitting across his face from having been in the same slouched position on the floor for a little over an hour. Grinning, Eddie happily moved away from the three humble little boxes and loped over to the kitchen area. He was still getting used to the open space of this loft, having previously lived in a typical one bedroom apartment with rooms and walls creating separations. But it had its charm . . . it gave him a vibe that was . . . perpendicular to nostalgia.

"What, man?" Eddie asked with a chuckle as he looked down at Jordan's gleeful face. Jordan giggled again and gestured for him to come down to the floor, and with a sigh, Eddie (happily) resigned himself to watching TikToks on the floor of his new home for three hours.

"You know . . . I should really be finishing up unpacking." Eddie reluctantly tried to play the responsible adult, a veneer that was shattered the moment Jordan side-eyed him.

"You're last three boxes are kitchenware and your toys. Surely takeout and your hands can work for another night." Eddie punched Jordan's shoulder and merely shook his head with a grin before they settled down to see what the algorithm wanted them to consume.

After a surprisingly short scrolling session (two hours and twenty-six minutes), Jordan left and Eddie was left alone with his new hard loft, three unpacked boxes, and the single lamp he'd put up in the living room, soft lights making the steel and concrete glow invitingly. With a gentle exhale, Eddie paced around the brown suede sofa and perched on the edge of the seat, looking around at his new abode in a night setting. He had opted to donate or toss a lot of his furniture that had gone on long past their golden days, leaving him with one sofa, a lamp, a deliciously supportive memory-foam mattress, and a patio table and chair set currently sitting on his balcony. He'd need to find a furniture outlet, see who had good sales . . .

Ruminating over all of this, his eyes drifted over to the two boxes flush against the wall by his lamp. On the fronts were the words "Toys" written in black sharpie, devil horns topping the 'T'. Because there were no sections to create a separate room, he'd either have to make a backdrop against one of the walls, or make a "room" himself with some partitions . . . something easy to put up and break down himself . . .

Eddie got up and walked over to the boxes, pulling aside the first one and crouching down. Grabbing the box cutter from his pocket, he swiftly cut open the tape and opened the box, hands gently resting on the flaps as he looked over the contents inside. Reaching in, he grabbed a set of nipple clamps and brought them up to the light, delicate silver chain swinging gently, his own addition of tiny bells chiming as he tilted his wrist from side to side.

Suddenly a sensation of cold swept over him, like a wave from the ocean trying to knock him over. It suffused every extremity, from his toes to his prickling scalp. A large palm swept over the tight coils in an attempt to brush away the tickling sensation, but it continued down his body, pushing goosebumps across the skin of his arms and legs. Jolting up, Eddie swung around-

And the hum of the A.C. grew into a familiar drone, visible pipes clanking and shuddering gently before settling. Eddie froze, stunned, before scoffing at himself and dropping the nipple clamps back in the box. Those edibles Jordan and he had taken a few hours ago (that he swore weren't shit) were doing crazy work. Chuckling under his breath, Eddie turned away from the boxes and began to prepare for bed.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Eddie would begin to settle into his new home, getting into a routine and working to understand his new environment. He was lucky to work remotely as a UX designer, it allowed him time to trawl through postings and outlet sales for furniture, and take trips to stores like Michaels, Home Goods, or even the local markets to get what he needed. He now had a beautiful dark wood bedframe, bedside tables, a coffee table he got at the flea market, and a really cool print from on of his favorite artists he'd found on Twitter. Plus, he was able to get two room dividers with nice designs across them to use for his web camming sessions, meaning he was only off the site for a week. Thank God for loyal patrons!

He still needed a few things to make it truly home, and he reminded himself that a trip to Home Depot was definitely needed, to get one of those level measuring sticks, because it seemed like stuff was rolling off the counters a lot? And if the counters were put in improperly, better to get the landlord on that stat. And also see about why the A.C. would randomly kick on stronger than other times, because those random cold spots in his apartment were almost freaky to walk through. Maybe some blackout curtains, because he felt like the ones currently on were too thin- there were some days were he felt a little too exposed . . . a little too seen. Like someone was watching him closely, an exposed nerve under a microscope.

It was while he was debating between trying to bike or drive to Target that he had his first interaction with a neighbor. She introduced herself as Yasmine, a middle-aged woman with a vivacity to her that charmed Eddie, with gauzy ascots and smart suits that were apparently her usual attire for her job as a historian with the museum.

"It is just so lovely to meet you! You got yourself a good place, you know it's been empty for nearly a year!" Yasmine told him laughingly, absently adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder.

"Yeah I couldn't believe this place was available when I found it." Eddie agreed. "It's got a gorgeous view of the whole block, lot of sunlight-"

"Yes, god, I love the way everything lights up at golden hour!" Yasmine gushed, hands clasped together. Her own shiny rings sparkled in the light streaming in from the doors by their mailboxes.

She was all too eager to hear about how he'd been settling in ("It's been cool, no trouble around here."), did he like the neighborhood ("Yeah, everybody's been chill."), was he hearing any strange noises at night ("Uh, beyond like . . . those roommates who do Youtube pranks on each other two doors down, no, ha."), were there strange spots of exceptional cold in the space (". . . exceptional?"), and so on until . . .

"Okay. Your questions have taken a bit of a . . . particular bend? Is there something wrong with the apartment, because I kind of thought the rent was a little cheap for the area-"

"Oh, no no no!" Yasmin assured him with waving hands as if to brush away the worries. "No, please forgive me for my nosiness . . . but the last few tenants had all seemed quite freaked out by week four."

"What, is it haunted or something?" Eddie asked, skepticism thick in his voice. It wasn't like he was a complete denier of supernatural things in the world, but he wasn't one to believe that every old building or house in America had spooky, scary skeletons.

"Or something." Yasmine moved over to her mailbox and opened it, pulling out a thick stack of flyers. Turning around, she tilted her head at Eddie and smiled. "You know, you strike me as the creative type . . . but also something of a scholar. Do you do anything in the arts and humanities?"

Eddie shrugged. "I do like reading . . . I work in the tech field though. UX designer."

"A type of artistry! I thought so . . . you have the eyes of a poet, you know." Yasmine cheerfully replied, carefully pulling off one flyer from the stack to give to him. Eddie took it from her, and read the information on it. It was a new exhibit featuring local history, specifically the fishing industry along the coast and in San Francisco. There were black and white photos of fisherman hauling nets, on their boats, and simply standing in solemn severity with their crews on the docks, surrounded by cargo and nets.

"A poet's eyes? Wow." Eddie laughed.

"Mm, like, uh . . . a young Marlon Brando, or . . ."

"Denzel Washington?" Eddie offered with a grin.

Yasmin laughed, putting her flyers in her purse. "A far more contemporary choice. I'm so used to looking at old things, you know! But, anyway, the reason I gave you that flyer- besides it being my duty to increase patronage to my beloved museum, of course- is because it's also part of the reason why nobody's been able to stay in that loft."

Eddie's brow furrowed as he looked again at the flyer. "The . . . fishing industry?"

"This building was once home to a lot of fisherman and their families, and there was some business around as well. For instance, this handsome young fella here . . ." Yasmine's olive painted nail tapped at a picture that Eddie had somehow skipped over, and when he focused on the cleaned up photo of the young man his eyebrows rose, impressed despite himself. "Yeah, he's a looker isn't he? That's why I put him on the flyer. Well, truthfully my niece suggested it, said it would attract, uh . . . Biblio . . . tok? Or something."

"BookTok." Eddie corrected gently, slowly looking away from the photo of the striking young man with clear, expressive eyes. If he'd been born a century later, he could very well have been a model. "If I'm young Marlon Brando, this dude's definitely like Paul Newman's . . . grandpa."

"That's perfect. That's a perfect descriptor! I've got to tell me niece, she'll love that line- oh! And I better shake a leg, but it was so nice to meet you dear, if you need me you come find me. Or if you don't need me and just want some company! And, please, if you think you can find some time why not come to the exhibit? It opens next month and will stay for three months total."

"I will definitely find the time to come around, Yasmine, thank you." Eddie assured the woman, and with some more passing words of goodbye, Yasmine was scurrying off and Eddie was left with his plans for shopping and mental destressing via consumerism at the local Target. He'd been craving grapes, lately . . .

He didn't think about the fact that apparently previous tenants at his place had felt ill at ease there until the next week.

It was his weekly cam session, and Eddie was sprawled across his bed, foldable room divider up to hide any view of the rest of his living quarters or personal effects. The silk sheets, usually a luxurious relief, did little but stick to his dewy skin as he undulated slowly from the simmering frustration of his fourth edging. Eddie usually wouldn't push himself so far, but he'd just hit a subscriber milestone and felt the extra effort was warranted. He couldn't see his laptop screen anymore since his head was tossed back against his headboard, but he knew the live chat was frenzied right now. They loved when he used the vibrator on himself, and combined with the cock ring?

Ugh. Sublime. Gut-wrenching, but sublime!

It was just when Eddie was feeling his orgasm bubbling up to his sternum and he was just about ready to pull off the ring and go for it when a loud, sharp sound nearly startled him out oh his skin. Viewers only saw him suddenly freeze and cock his head to the side, but inside his heart was doing triple-time. Eddie didn't move, just turned off the vibrator and made an effort to slow down his breath, waiting for another sound.

His chat was full of opinions about this.

Ghostscumsock: Why'd you stop???

PerennialPerinium sent you a tip!

user5768593099: Damn not you having to fight off

burglars with the dlizzy

DolemitesAcolyte: Aren't you gonna check that out?

Cumployeeofthemonth: Found the blackfishing account

AntiNovember: LMAOOOO

When no other startling sounds came, Eddie carefully craned his head and used two fingers to peek around the partition and see what was up. There was nobody else- of course- and he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary . . .

Another clatter made his eyes shoot down to the lamp, and the last box by the wall. The box now completely on its side, last of his toys spilling out of the box and onto the floor. Eddie's eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what the hell made the box fall like that. Did a cat get in or something? He did have one of the windows open . . .

Clearing his throat, Eddie turned his focus back to the livestream, and smiled easily. "I'm sorry, I'm not giving you my full attention. I think a cat must have gotten in through a window or something . . . tried to take off with the wand or some shit. Or," he let out a giggle as he turned the vibrator back on, beginning a slow path up from the middle of his thigh to the crease of his hip. The green of the vibrator paired wonderfully with his gleaming, warm skin. "I heard that this place might be haunt-"

Two slow thumps. Thump. Two breaths. Thump.

Eddie suddenly felt like someone was near him. Watching him? He wasn't quite sure . . . but it felt like they were near. There was a certain awareness along his skin and heart, like when he would be getting tied up in front of a group, but the group wasn't necessarily focused on him, he was just . . . among them. A part of something . . . not necessarily a focal point, just belonging.

The vibrator didn't stop its path up his quivering length, but his suddenly rigid posture and determined set of his chin (all they could see, since he didn't show his face) were not doing what he thought it was to convince his audience.

user576893099: Oh nahh bro is haunted???

WAPtacular: Yeah, cum all over yourself

DaddysFavorite sent you a tip!

Deepthroat86: Ask the ghost to play with you

"Oh, out of the question, that's wild." Eddie grunted out, before his breath hitched and his trembling hand reached for the ring.

Another month passed, and Eddie had to admit . . . after checking the level of the counters, the floors, having someone check the A.C., still walking through cold spots- and he's noticed a thing now where the . . . his stuff is getting rearranged, but he certainly doesn't remember doing it. Something Eddie will be looking for is moved and placed very specifically- with the exception of his Starbucks tumbler, which is probably the most frequent item that's . . . mysteriously falling. And, nearly every other day, he's apparently . . . forgetting grapes on random surfaces. Because there's been a lot of times where he'll turn his back, and bam! Grapes on the counter. Grapes on the bed. Grapes . . . on the window sill? And sometimes it will be whole bunch on a vine, and other times it will be a handful of individual, disconnected grapes and it's just so weird because he does not just leave grapes out and not in a bowl. And then two weeks ago, he-

Well. Even with his side job of camming, and the occasional visit to a club or two, Eddie still enjoys his moments of solitary pleasure. One such night, on just the right side of the witching hour, Eddie was dozing but not sleepy. Rather, his head was full of memories and musings about a particularly steamy encounter he'd had with someone sharply beautiful and very giving a few months ago. The warm memories sparked an ember in his belly, one that smoldered and grew from the pit of his stomach up to his chest, over his arms, and down to his toes. He found himself caressing his own thighs, over his diaphragm, and just along his collar bones at the sweetly burning thoughts. With a heavy sigh, Eddie's hands drifted lower, and lower until his caresses started to make his back arch and his feet shift against the mattress. With steadily increasing breathing, Eddie was slowly sinking deeper into his memories, and into the gentle daze his own touch was providing him. His waist twisted, his head pressed just slightly back and up and his mouth parted on a low hum as he grappled with deciding on an orgasm or just the pleasure of touch and nostalgia, and the sheet was tugged down his chest.

Eddie jolted up, gasping loudly and scrambling to turn on his bedside lamp. Shivering at the sudden increase of chill in the air, he looked around frantically. He didn't touch the sheets, and he wasn't moving his feet or legs enough to tug the sheets down that far, at least he doesn't think . . . ?!

It took another half an hour, but eventually Eddie turned off the lights, and settled down to try and catch some sleep. But he couldn't, not with the way he felt like he was being stared at.

Eddie has seen a figure from the corner of his eye. A shadow, or a . . . thing. Maybe four times total. After the first two times of whipping around immediately to find only air, he started waiting a little longer and trying to identify any characteristics that might give him clues as to what it could be, before turning and seeing nothing. It might be bulky, or it might be wearing something to feign the appearance of bulk. If . . . if it's of human, um, disposition?

Above all, what or whoever it is seems to be mostly harmless. Fucking annoying with throwing his tumbler down and (he assumes) making the cold spots and weird murmurs at night, but harmless. Seems to really care that Eddie gets vitamin C. From what he's been able to glean from binge watching ghost shows on Youtube, this could be typical harmless spirit activity. If he's actually haunted and not just . . . facing mental degradation under the fatigue of late stage capitalism. He's not ruling anything out. But he's not even sure about that, because the activity will ramp up a couple of days after his cam sessions. Lights will flicker, a low, gritty sound will pop up sporadically for an hour, things- including the toys on his bed- will get thrown. And the more sessions that pass, the farther these throws become. Like the thing is growing stronger. Or growing bolder.

Oh fuck, is his ghost panphobic? Or does the ghost just think its homophobic because it might be too old to know what pansexuality is- oh shit could the ghost be racist? What the fuck was Eddie even thinking about right now?! It might not be a ghost! It could just be him being forgetful, sensitive to the strength of the A.C. owing to the concrete and brick, and when he's lugging himself out of the bed for a post-orgasm bowl of grapes, he could be snagging the sheets with him and tossing the toys himself with his uncoordinated and jerky movements!

There has got to be a rational explanation for all of this. And while ghosts isn't an irrational one, it's not one Eddie is willing to just accept with the little, inconclusive evidence he's got.

Blowing out a sharp breath, Eddie's hands came up to his scalp and sharply rubbed over it, grumbling under his breath as he leaned back into his couch. Dusk was falling and the dying light left a sputtering glow in his home. He'd dropped down into the well-worn plushness hours ago with a bowl of freshly washed green grapes, now half eaten, and intent on watching a documentary about penguins, though he'd turned off the TV nearly an hour ago. He would have to get up to turn the lights on in a few minutes, reluctant to stay in total darkness now for any length of conscious time. But, for now, he didn't feel like getting up from the couch. A particularly difficult project at his main job, and a little too much stimulation on his side job, left him a little out of sorts.

A chirp from his phone beckoned Eddie's attention. Eve, a friend he'd made on an online kink forum a few years ago, had messaged him. They usually sent him either memes or some of the kinkiest shit one could find, and with a slow growing grin, Eddie picked up the phone and checked them message.

All there was in the message, was a link and a string of emojis. Crying emoji, three claps, a black heart, the explosion emoji, four water emojis, an eggplant, and then the sleep emoji.

"Okay friend." Eddie mumbled as he tapped the link. True enough, the link was to a site he was familiar with, and the description promised some filthy, fun things. With a sigh, Eddie slipped to the side so that now his head was resting on the arm of the couch, legs stretched across the suede length, and one arm came up behind his head while the other held the phone on his abdomen. He turned up the volume a couple of notches, and settled in to enjoy what liked like two very beautiful people enjoying each other.

"Oh, that's that shit I was thinking of getting!" Eddie realized as he saw one pull out a very interesting implement. So Eve had sent him a "product review." They were so nice. As the sound of lips smacking and sucking on skin started to grow, and the heavy breathing and whimpers of the two on screen filled the air, Eddie found his body sinking a little deeper into the couch. With a deep breath, the hand cradling his skull came down atop the waistband of his jeans. Fingers traced there for a couple of seconds, before his hand pushed up the hem of his shirt and rested on his skin, index making small circles just above his hip bone.

Even as the video got hotter, the performance more vivid, Eddie's mind was growing alert to . . . a presence. As if someone was standing just behind his reclined form. Watching. Nothing ominous, or dangerous. Neutral. Observational.

The soft plops of grapes falling from their cluster dragged his gaze to the coffee table in front of him. Several of them were still spinning around, one already falling to the ground before him. Grapes that couldn't possibly have jumped out of the bowl by themselves.

The hand resting on his front was growing cold. Like an ice cube had been run across the flat of his hand and over each bump of knuckle, and then left, but the cold remained, a sustained sensation that had Eddie struggling to maintain his gaze on the phone. This was the first time the cold sensation had felt like anything close to a touch. As if he could almost feel the sensation of fingertips, callouses catching on his own skin.

Perhaps Eddie had been quick to judge his ghost?

The moans grew louder, the slight squeak of a bed rocking coming from the speaker of his phone, and Eddie felt that phantom ice touch slowly slide across his knuckles and down the side of his hand to land on the pushed up fold of his shirt. The cold seeped through his shirt, until he thought he could feel fingertips press into the skin, his own physical flesh not touched yet still his brain registered a feeling like the give of his own skin underneath another's.

And another touch . . . just above the button of his jeans. Eddie sucked in a startled breath, and the touch spread from just above the button to between his hip bones. It was gentle, cold, and Eddie couldn't kid himself anymore. There was actually a ghost haunting his apartment. A voyeuristic ghost, apparently. But natural anomaly or not, extraordinary or not, he never once gave this fucker permission to touch him.

"Hands off!" The sharp bark was dripping with authority, voice deep and unyielding. Eddie, if ever asked why he used his Dom voice on a fucking ghost, probably wouldn't be able to give a good answer. It was just the first thing that popped into his mind.

Before moving to San Francisco, Eddie lived in a smaller town with a very small and insular kink community. He'd often feel compelled to dominate in the scenes he ventures to join, not many willing to see his stature and sharp features as something that could submit. He was younger then, unsure of how to communicate his own deepest desires and just felt like it should have been natural for him to only be dominant. Over the years he's gotten a better education on kink, understanding himself, and learning how to find communities and scenes where he can be authentically himself. Still, he's undeniably practiced in the art of commanding a scene. You need to be firm, rational, and patient. That's his M.O. anyway.

So, when the icy touch immediately lifted from between his hip bones, but not above his shirt, Eddie was working on instinct and a prayer when he lifted himself up and swung his legs off the couch. His stance was straight, yet casual. Strong, legs spread wide and shoulders back against the couch, yet his hands were laid palm up with a gentle and natural curl to his fingers. Steady. Patient. Definitely irrational.

"At no point did I offer an opportunity to touch me." Eddie spoke aloud, seemingly to thin air, but he felt it. The cold aura, the . . . almost tangible presence. What shouldn't be there . . . but, was here all along, long before him, and the previous tenants, for who know how long.

There was a . . . growing energy filling the air, something charged and a little heavy. Like the presence of lightning before it would strike, or . . . the feeling just before someone touches you. Eddie waited, pensive yet retaining a composed front. His fingers twitched and the sound of another few grapes hitting the coffee table broke his stare with his reflection in the T.V. So he had been right . . . the grapes were the ghost's way of, er, inviting him. Seeking permission?

Eddie nodded. "Yeah, I see them. And I haven't taken any yet."

The energy in the air almost rippled across his skin, a tingling and prickling that simultaneously soothed Eddie and set him on edge. There shouldn't be anything soothing about a lusty haunting. The energy was still around him, so Eddie expected the ghost was still nearby, and yet when the folding wall by his bed suddenly moved to hit against the wall, he jumped and stifled a yelp. Eddie's head craned back to look over his shoulder at the bed, and the tilted panels, brow furrowing.

"Do . . . you want . . . me over there?" Eddie guessed, eyes darting around.

"Ah, my go-!" The hoarse moans that started from his phone again extracted another flinch from Eddie, who whipped around to look at his phone. Had the ghost turned on his video again? Wait, come to think of it when had he even hit pause? Eddie must have looked comical, brow furrowed and twisted in a plain expression of deep confusion, shoulders struggling to maintain their aloof stretch, all while he just wanted to hold his head and shriek.

Watching the two actors for a moment, Eddie sought to understand the ghost's intent. Seeing the larger of the two partners force their partner to face the mirror while they were getting wrecked, set off a spark in Eddie's mind.

"Wait. You want me to, uh . . . play for you." Eddie realized in a low murmur.

Behind his left ear, a delicate sigh gently landed on his skin. Eddie, thankfully, managed to turn his flinch into a change of posture into something a little more strict. He could feel the energy shift again. Something . . . anticipatory, but light. Playful?

"You know I get paid for that usually," Eddie pointed out. "Why would I play for you, for free?" Eddie made a point to scoop up some grapes into his palm with the thumb and index finger of the opposite hand. Methodical, easy. Just as easy as the stretch of his spine to recline once more on the couch, things spreading even more. One by one, slowly, Eddie ate his grapes. The sun had long since gone, and the darkness of his space was broken up only by the little streams of light from the street lamps and encompassing city glow.

"So you like to play games?" It half was and half wasn't a question. Just a placeholder. A checkpoint. Something to say, to continue this conversation with this ghost that was- had been- trying to communicate in its own peculiar and dirty fashion. Something made the hairs on the right side of his body stand at attention, goosebumps nearly painful. It was the wrong creature, but Eddie suddenly thought about that book he'd read two years ago- Carmilla. Looking dead ahead at the TV's black screen, he saw a figure, shrouded in shadow, sitting very close to him.

His ghost might like to play this game . . . might like to do more, in fact. So the real question was:

Was Eddie willing to play along?

The Grand Finale of "Fright Feast!" Thank you all so much for reading, and- hey! Happy Halloween! Share the treats and like, share, perhaps even subscribe. Remember you darling little freaks, check your candy, and stay frosty! Happy Hauntings~!

To read the previous story, click here for Party Monster!