**A/N**
Well hey guys, I hope you're all enjoying the holiday season? That being the main reason for my lateness in updating (sorry) but hopefully this long, roller-coaster of a chapter will make up for it. There's lots of feels going on, and temperatures rising all round...Anyhoo, thank you all for commenting and reading, your feedback and encouragement is always greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy ;)

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"On second thoughts, maybe this wasn't such a good idea."
Charles Deetz lamented, feeling all at once unquestionably guilty for having sent the unwitting Brett off like a lamb to the slaughter.

"Do you think?
Delia snapped.
"If anything happens to that boy, I can kiss my place on the arts committee goodbye, and I'm going to hold you personally responsible!"

Slowly, Brett approached, and upon seeing him, Lydia's laughter rapidly dissolved. Her stomach dropped and her face fell, gaining Beetlejuice's immediate attention.

"Hey Lydia, everything okay?"
He asked, shooting a quick glance at the ghoulish stranger before looking at her quizzically.

"Why wouldn't it be?"
Beetlejuice responded, regarding the boy in the same manner one might when bothered by a troublesome fly. And to emphasise the fact, he waved a grimy hand towards him as if to shoo him away.

Brett made a face, and choosing to ignore his rudeness, persisted.
"Lydia?"

"Yeah, like he said. We're fine. All good. Everything's good here."
She rambled, shuffling her feet nervously, silently willing him to go away.

Yet he didn't move. Instead he stood silently, his eyes honed in on her face. Scrutinising it, for what exactly, she could not determine. But she could sense Beetlejuice's agitation rapidly growing.

"See, she's fine. Mighty fine. Are 'ya happy now? Or do you want it in writing?"
Beetlejuice retorted curtly. This kid was annoying, like a bug that wouldn't go away. And not even a beetle at that, at least they served a purpose. Although he decided in that instant, he'd take great relish in chewing him up and spitting him out.

Raising his hands in mock defence, Brett laughed nervously.
"Hey dude, I was just asking. No need to freak out or anything."

"Hey dude, I gotta be honest with ya....you're startin' to piss me off. So beat it."
Holding up a hand in front of Brett's face, he froze the boy in time, rendering him a motionless, immobile statue.
"And as for freakin' out...fortunately for you you've caught me on a good day."
With a simple flick of the wrist, a green light shimmered over his figure, before promptly disappearing.

"Brett?"
Lydia cried, and grabbing Beetlejuice by the arm, she tugged on it in desperation.
"Where have you sent him? You need to bring him back, bring him back now!"

His ashen brow forging into a deep scowl at her words, Beetlejuice's eyes grew large.
"Brett? That...was Brett?"
And with a twirl of his hand, Brett miraculously reappeared. Looking somewhat dazed and confused.

"So, you're the little turd blossom I've been hearing about?"

Clamping a shaky hand to her mouth, Lydia could collectedly feel the blood pressure rise in the room. Hers, Brett's and Beetlejuice's, if that was even possible.

"S-sorry?"
Her ex stammered, his expression filled with indignation, and Lydia shook her head at him slowly, trying to convey a message of warning. She'd never seen Brett in a physical fight, but he was growing a little red around the gills, and she could tell by his tone the direction he was about to march in, with ill-fated confidence.

"Oh you will be sorry."
Beetlejuice snapped, glowering fiercely.

This was actually more of a problem than he'd realised. The kid was so unapologetically good looking, it was insulting.
Since when did teenage boys look like that? He'd been picturing a gormless face hampered with zits. Not this.
Shit, anything but this.
The little bastard looked liked something that had just stepped straight off the front cover of a teen heartthrob magazine, with his long eyelashes and cheekbones you could cut glass with. Just looking at him made his eyes hurt, and he desperately wanted to punch him in his perfect white teeth.
But all that aside, only a fraction of the anger he was feeling could be accredited to him being unfair competition. There was a much bigger problem. Frankly, a huge issue. The matter of how he'd treated his Lydia.
Yep. There, he'd said it in his own head.
'His' Lydia.

"Nothin' huh? Not got anythin' to say? No witty comeback? 'Cause yer lookin' kinda angry, but I'm guessing you don't even have the balls to take a swing at me?"
He goaded, mockingly. Delighting in the boys embarrassment.
"Ah well, probably for the best. I bet 'cha couldn't even hit water if you fell out of a fuckin' boat."

Brett's mouth literally dropped open, shaken by Beetlejuice's confrontational manner. Staring yet unseeing, and clearly unperturbed by the violence in the ghost's glare, he took a step forward.

"Boys, boys...you're both pretty."
Joking clumsily, Lydia halted Brett by placing her hand firmly on his chest, attempting to place herself between the fractious pair.
This was all getting a bit too 'Westside Story' for her liking, and she half expected them to start snapping their fingers, and pulling out flip knives at any moment.
"Please don't do this."
She begged Beetlejuice in hushed tones.
"Everyone will see."

An excruciatingly tense moment passed as they stared at each other, teeth bared like snarling dogs. And then suddenly Beetlejuice rolled his shoulders and dusted off the sleeves of his jacket, as if shaking off his anger. But now he was eerily calm, his head tilting slightly to to one side, resembling a cobra before it strikes.
"Okay, Brett...how's about you and me take a little walk?"

Brett didn't have time to react, as Beetlejuice began heading towards the door, he found himself involuntarily gliding after him. Unable to control the movement as an unseen force pulled him along, out into the corridor.
"What the hell?"

"Well, when I say walk..."
Beetlejuice pondered aloud, as he strode along purposefully. His movements brusque, and his face now becoming a mask of rage.
"...I mean in the figurative sense."

All Lydia could do was watch helplessly as she rushed after them, guts churning.
And suddenly things were moving at hyper-speed, Beetlejuice was gripping Brett by the front of his leather coat, ignoring his cries of protest as he ran with him at full force towards the double doors of the main entrance.
And then they were flying throug the air, quite literally. The enraged poltergeist's feet having left the ground, hurtling forwards, levitating off the steps towards the sidewalk with the startled boy in his clutches.

"Wait! Stop!"
Lydia called out, as she gave chase in blind panic, taking the steps two at a time.
Beetlejuice mustn't hurt him, he mustn't.

Brett's legs swung wildly, arms and legs flailing at Beetlejuice, but he was much too slow and clumsy in comparison.
Slamming him into the side of a nearby parked van, it shook with the force of it, momentarily winding him with the impact.
Lydia flinched, worrying that there'd be an identifiable Brett-shaped dent left there, like in a scene from a cartoon.

"Now that I've got your attention, listen up ass wipe."
Beetlejuice spat, his voice a low growl, and dripping venom.
"Those pictures you took of Lydia...the way I figure it is, they're her rightful property. So you're gonna return them to her. Every. Fuckin'. Last. One..."
Crunching him into the van with each of the last four words he spoke, Brett spluttered, gasping for air.
"And if I find out you've kept any back, or made copies for you and your dick-less buddies to ogle over, I swear I'll ram my fist so far down your goddamn throat you'll be shittin' teeth for months. Ya' got that?"

"Beetle-"
Having joined them on the sidewalk, Lydia quickly corrected herself.
"BJ, stop it. Please just let him go. You're hurting him. Please don't do this, I'm begging you."

Tensing further at her words, she saw his jaw tighten in agitation, his expression set so hard she thought his face might actually crack.
"You're lucky she's way more forgiving than I am."
He hissed through clenched teeth, before dropping the boy unceremoniously in a damaged heap on the ground.
However he didn't have much chance to recover, Beetlejuice hadn't quite finished yet. Reaching down, he hoisted him to stand roughly.
"So, do we understand each other, cock sucker?"
Clasping a firm hand to the back of Brett's neck, he forced his head to nod back and forth in agreement like a rag doll.
"Good. I think we understand each other. Now get outta my fuckin' sight, you make me wanna throw up."

Pushing him away unnecessarily forcefully, he emitted a menacing cackle as Brett stumbled to the ground.
"Oh, and don't ever bother Lydia again. D'ya hear me? You ain't fit to even breath the same goddamn air as her. You be sure to send those pictures through the mail, otherwise I will find you, she won't be around to save you, and it ain't gonna be pretty. Trust me. Think pain, lots of pain. I'll show you a whole new fuckin' world of pain."

Lydia was at Brett's side now. She threw Beetlejuice a wild eyed, withering stare as she helped her former lover to his feet.
"I think you've made your point. And you really shouldn't have done that."

Hands balling into fists, he turned his full body to face her. His intense eyes like glowing coals did nothing to hide the blistering fury he was now feeling.
"Yeah? Well in case you hadn't noticed, I do a lot of things I probably shouldn't fuckin' do."
Turning on his heel, he raised his right leg, placing his booted foot against the truck, and with one almighty shove, kicked the vehicle over into the road.

The sound of shattering glass and scraping metal ensued, filling Lydia's ears. Horrified, her eyes bugged at the sight of the crumpled truck, rocking slightly on it's roof, amidst the glass-strewn road.

"What the actual fuck, Lydia?"
Brett was saying now, as he stared slack-jawed between the upturned, damaged van, and herself.
"What was that?"

"You mean who.."
She corrected, for want of something better to say. And her head began to swirl with thoughts, making her feel almost woozy.
"Who, not what. He's a person...a person with...feelings. Just like anyone else, I guess."

"He's a freak! Why would you even know a creep like him? I mean, what was that? Some kind of martial arts shit?"

Turning wildly, her eyes searched after him but he was nowhere in sight.
"Brett, don't call the cops, okay? I promise he won't come after you, just...please don't tell anyone about this."
She begged, chewing on her lip frantically.

"But look at this!"
He waved towards the mess in the road that was now attracting the attention of passers by, and another car was approaching. Slowing down due to the obstruction.

"I know, I know. But what will you tell them when they ask for a description? Think about it."

"I'll tell them that a madman who looks like a relation of the Joker's just went crazy. You must know where he lives."

"I don't!"
She argued, pulling on her hair in frustration.
"I don't know where he..."
She faltered as a thought suddenly struck her, and instinctively she began walking away.
"Do what you want Brett. You usually do. And tell them what you like, but they won't believe you."

"Where are you going?"
He called after her.

Gathering her long black skirt up in her hands, she broke into a run. She knew it was a long shot but she had to try. She had to trust her instincts. She needed to find him, and couldn't face Brett's questions, or her parents reaction to what had gone on.
"He may be a creep."
She muttered to herself under her breath.
"But he's my creep."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Perched precariously on the narrow ledge of the open bell tower in the steeple of the Winter River Congregational church, Beetlejuice sat filing his nails furiously.

He hadn't intended to come here. After having stomped away, he found he'd inadvertently wandered in the direction of the graveyard. Like some kind of dead homing pigeon.
He hadn't lingered to look at the headstones, he had no desire to do that whatsoever, and he'd especially avoided the area at the base of the hill where the twisted old oak tree stood.
He'd heard of feeling as if someone was walking across your grave, but the term took on a whole new meaning once you were dead. And walking across his own grave was something he actively wished to avoid.

It was dusk now, and the air was crisp and cool. A distinctly biting chill was sweeping in, rustling through the trees and quite aptly setting the tone for his sombre mood.
This was bogus. He thought to himself, why was he wasting time lurking around the cemetery like a pathetic, level three loser. Pausing to pull up his cuff, he checked his second watch. He was running out of time. Three hours was all that he had, and he'd already wasted one dicking around at the town hall, being unnecessarily nice to sexually repressed school teachers, and threatening teenage boys.
And for what? For her. But what had he actually achieved? Nothing. Nada. Sweet F.A, apart from causing himself a shit load of grief.

Hissing as the metal file snagged on the edge of his now ragged nail, he found himself wondering yet again how he'd ended up here. In this shitty situation. Trying to be charming, trying to win over the girl he'd married...and for what? Perhaps Barbara-starchy-drawers-Maitland had been right after all. Lydia would never want him. Like, truly want him. And all the flattery and charm in the world wouldn't change that. He'd been an optimistic, overconfident tit, labouring under the misapprehension that if he invested enough time and energy into his 'marriage' then she'd warm to the idea, but after his little outburst of temper and recalling the way she'd looked at him with unmistakable fear in her big brown eyes, he knew then that his efforts had all been in vain.

And now what?
Back to the drawing board. And back to to attic, where he would meet with the Maitland's and sign his god-dammed soul away. In the past he wouldn't have thought twice about agreeing to a deal like they had offered. But things had changed, he had changed. And he didn't like it one bit.
The ghost with the most was at serious risk of losing his edge. Although that ruckus he'd caused back in town would no doubt ruffle a few feathers, but it was nothing compared to what he could have and would've liked to have done. But he'd exercised some self restraint for once, as opposed to 'exercising' the demons - his inner ones.
But had she appreciated it? No. So there was bound to be fallout, and for absolutely nothing. He'd spared that little prick, just for her. Even though he had so desperately wanted to make him suffer his wrath.

Now all he could do was shake it off, grit his teeth, and ride it out. Take the deal, then lay low for a year or two until the shit storm had blown over. He could do that, he told himself. He didn't work well with others anyway. He'd spent eons underground alone, he could do it again. And then come back with a vengeance. A free agent, as it were.
...But something wasn't quite right. He wasn't feeling it with the same zest he usually did. And whether he liked it or not, he was forced to admit he was seriously lacking the 'zippity' part of his 'doo-dah day'.
Sucking in his cheeks, he let out a violent, angry roar up towards the dusky sky. The sound of which startled a murder of crows, sending them scattering from the surrounding trees, cawing in fright.

Meanwhile far below, Lydia was winding her way through the graveyard when she heard the spine-tingling sound echo from the tall spire of the church. Hastily she headed towards the traditional cape style, wooden-framed building.

He immediately spotted her approaching, and rolled his keen eyes. Christ he was supposed to be the ghost but she seemed to be the one predominantly haunting him. In his dreams, in his thoughts, in every waking moment. And the bittersweet irony of a mortal haunting a bio-exorcist wasn't lost on him.
"You lookin' for me Juliet?"
He called out, the sarcasm in his voice cutting her like a knife through butter.

She gazed up at him, sat casually with one leg dangling down over the side, with his other drawn up at the knee.
Well, at least a fall wouldn't be life threatening to him.
"I'm pretty sure Romeo wouldn't have haunted graveyards after he died."
She yelled back.
Bypassing the main entrance which was locked, she walked around the side of the building until she found the back door which was open, and she duly noted the broken lock on the door.
Struggling up the dark, narrow stairwell in her long skirt, when at last she reached the top she was slightly breathless and even more disgruntled.
"And I'm certain he wouldn't have been guilty of breaking and entering a sacred building either."
She huffed, and he detected the irritation in her tone as she pushed the wooden door of the tower open.

"Sacred. Pfft."
He proceeded to hack up a wad of snot, crudely spitting it over the side.

"Ugh. You're so gross."
Scrunching her face in disgust, she stepped precariously onto the platform where the bell hung.

"Yeah, so what else is new?"
He remarked tersely, not bothering to look up from his hands.

Perplexed, she edged over to him. His expression was unreadable, but he was undoubtedly pissed off. She could practically feel the anger radiating from him.
"I suppose I should say thank you."

Ceasing his movements, he turned to look at her slowly. Her comment having the desired effect.
"For what?"
He growled, his frown now deepening into a forged scowl.

"For not killing Brett, or juicing him."
She responded dryly, and saw the sudden flash of anger in his green eyes. The look was cold, and hard yet somehow still managed to raise her temperature. It was deeply unsettling, yet strangely arousing, and she felt her face flush hot, stinging slightly as the cold breeze whipped through the tower.

"Gimme' a break. I just did the Neitherworld a favour by letting that dirtbag go. The guy's a complete dick head. Must be a real ball-ache for him, having to do a hand stand every time he needs to take a piss."

"Are you...are you jealous?"
She managed, chancing a small smile.

"Are you kiddin' me? Of that numb nuts?"
He scoffed, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck with a jagged fingernail.
"No! I'm just racked off that I didn't get to bounce him all over town like a spring-loaded turd in a pinball machine. Which is less than what he deserved. But no..."
Clasping his hand to the side of his face melodramatically, he fluttered his eyes, as he mimicked her voice perfectly.
"No. Please. Don't hurt him...not my beloved Brett, can't ruin his pretty little face."

"What? What are you talking about? Do you honestly think I'd still care for him that way?"

"Ya know what, Lydia? I gotta say I don't really give a flying Peter Pan fuck anymore."
He lied, and nonchalantly resumed attending to his nails.

Filled with a sudden burst of anger, she shot forward and snatched the file from his hands abruptly.
"Why are you being such a jerk?"

"Ow!"
He flinched, making her jump as he wafted his hand around as if he'd just been burned.

"What's wrong?"
Impulsively grabbing him by the hand, she peered down at it for signs of injury.
"What happened? Are you hurt?"

"I snagged a nail on the arsehead's coat."
He looked at her face and registered her deadpan expression.
"What?"

"A nail? Seriously?"
Failing to stifle a giggle, she held his large hand in her slender fingers.
"You can fly, you can alter reality, conjure things from nothing, change your clothes as well as other people's...yet you can't fix a broken nail?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, smart ass."
He mumbled, eyeing her steadily as she sniggered openly at him.

"Wow. The ghost with the most, breaks a nail and loses his mind. Is that why you're so cranky?"

"Yeah, like I need another fuckin' reason to be cranky."
He snorted.
"Why are you even here anyway? Frightened I'm gonna reanimate all the corpses from the cemetery and start a zombie apocalypse? 'Cause don't worry, it's too fuckin' exhausting. So you can just go reunite with lover boy, and-"

"Lover boy? Eew. Weren't you bothering to listen at all? I don't care about him anymore. Well I mean, I don't want him dead or anything like that, that's a bit extreme. But I was worried about you, not him."

"What? Me?"

"Well yeah I mean, you could get in trouble, right? I read the rules in the handbook. Ghosts are forbidden to seriously harm the living, any that do, run the risk of banishment."
She recounted, ignoring his baffled expression as her grip absentmindedly tightened protectively around his hand.
"You shouldn't have put yourself at risk, and you shouldn't have smashed up some poor guy's truck...but thank you. You were, um very manly...lots of manliness going on back there."
She babbled, trying to find the right words.
"No ones ever stood up for me like that before."

Brushing her thumb along his palm absentmindedly, she felt the roughness of his cool skin. His hands were so capable, so certain, and she'd grown to like the feel of them. Unwanted, inappropriate images began flashing through her mind's eye as she recalled the disturbingly explicit dream - or day dream - she'd had earlier in the day. Coupled with the memory of what these hands had done to her, and what they were capable of.
What was this magnetic influence he wielded over her?
He was like a fever she was learning to live with. Whatever he was doing to her, it rendered her a quivering mess and caused her to heat up, even against her wishes.

"Uh, Lydia."
He spoke at last, in his lulling, deep, spellbinding influence of a voice.

"Yes?"
Her doe eyes scaled back up to his face, and that lethal smile.

He leaned forwards, expression serious, as though about to whisper all the secrets of the universe into her ear. The features of his face seemed to be carved from stone. And at this moment in time she swore she knew every line, and each texture. She was actually beginning to believe she somehow knew the man...the inner man who remained an enigma.
A lengthy, loaded silence followed, and she had to remind herself to breath.
"I'm uh...gonna need that hand back, babe."

"Oh. Yeah. Right."
She stuttered awkwardly, cheeks flaming as she freed him from her grasp.
But then suddenly he caught hold of her hand, making her jump in surprise. She was so on edge because of this fiendish poltergeist, and she was sure he knew it.

"Is that what I think it is?"
He asked, arching an eyebrow at her questionably.

Blinking, she followed his gaze and realised to her dismay that he'd recognised the thin wedding band on her right hand.

"You've got it on the wrong hand, babe."
He added needlessly, his mind was racing now. Why was she even wearing that?
Shit, this girl was so difficult to understand. He really had no idea what it all meant, or where he stood with her.
So, sometimes the straightforward approach was the only way to go.
"How long have you been wearing that piece of tin? But whatever, I'm gonna be needing that back I think."
He declared, and wasted no time in slipping the ring from her finger before she had time to collect her thoughts or object.

Oh god. What was happening? She watched him launch the ring over the side, flinging it out into the darkness that had descended around them.
Why had he done that? She wanted to ask him, but her stubborn pride wouldn't allow it. She felt inwardly crushed, as though she'd just had a weight dropped on her chest, but she couldn't bring herself to show it.
Feeling inexplicably rejected, she turned to make a bolt for the door, like a maniac. Unwilling to let him see how his unexpected actions had affected her.
But he was always one step ahead, literally. And within the blink of an eye he'd moved and was now blocking her exit.
"Hold up, where 'ya goin? We ain't finished here-"

She didn't have chance to reply, as he appeared in front of the door just as she made a grab for the knob, and instead grasped the wrong kind, ending up with a handful of his crotch.

"Oh god!"
She squealed, jerking her hand away, utterly mortified.
"Did I just? Oh..no...I didn't, did I?"

"Grab my dick, yeah 'ya did."
He confirmed with a devilish smirk, increasing and cocky.
"But hey, don't be sorry. I sure as hell ain't."

Reeling from embarrassment, she couldn't look him in the face. Attempting to walk around him instead, but he stepped in front of her.
"Wait, wait a minute. You can't just grab and go."
He chuckled, slinking closer, and she felt her pulse begin to race.

"Stop it. It was an accident. I didn't mean to-"

"What, touch me?"
Running a hand down the front of his trousers with a flair of sensuality, he heard her breathing quicken and knew she was deeply affected by the erotic gesture.
"You know you can if ya want to. It is all yours after all, and I promise I won't bite."
Snapping his teeth at her nose, his words heated and burned her insides. His full and demonic lips were unbearably enticing, and her eyes involuntarily cast down.

Standing there up against her, she felt the familiar hardening of his growing erection, he claimed was just for her.
Fighting the disturbing, primal temptation to reach down and touch him, all she could do was wheeze. She'd never felt such maddening want in her life. It was like experiencing a sexual awakening, as she forced her eyes back up to his nearly perfect pout, puffing out his lower lip to entice her into a dark, strange world of forbidden longing and shaking limbs.

Without a word and his eyes never leaving her face, he took hold of her trembling hand and pressed it to his firmness, guiding her palm along his length, not letting her go until she stopped trying to snatch it away.
Her eyes widened as her curious fingers felt him, thick and heavy in her small hand. She gently rubbed up and down slowly and he emitted a low, appreciative growl, spurring her into increasing momentum.
Knowing she had this effect on him was a heady feeling indeed, and when his head lowered, she allowed him to ensnare her lips with his in a deep, sensual kiss.
She could feel herself internally falling, tumbling ever further down this rabbit hole of madness.
Moving in a blur, a frenzy of kisses and limbs, they staggered backwards, him pressing her into the wall behind them. Gripping the underside of her thigh in his large hand, he skilfully manoeuvred her skirt so he could bring her leg up, hooking it over his hip as they rocked together lustfully, grinding themselves against each other.

If this was what it was to truly lust after someone, she no longer cared that he was the object of her desires. The longing she had felt building for the longest time, was now an ache. She ached for his touch, she ached for him. She wanted to break free from her cocoon of ignorance, the time for the three D words; denial, deflection and deliberation, had passed.
The desire she had read of in books, that of which she'd always found intriguing yet difficult to identify with, now made perfect sense. Just in a seriously messed up way.
And whilst he was far from being a dashing vampiric type, that had no impact on how she was feeling. She adored his crooked smile, his earthy scent, and emerald eyes. She wanted to be closer, so much closer. To feel alive, to feel his undead flesh on hers, and to have him inside her. Oh dear fucking God! Had she really just thought that? Blood rushed to her face as well as a certain other part of her body, just at the mere thought of it.

His hands were gliding up her sides now, tugging the neckline of her shirt down roughly, so that the lace of her bra peeped out beneath the dark material. Breaking away from her mouth, his firm lips traced a path downwards, along her neck and collarbone before coming to rest at the swell of her pert breast.
She was panting now, her chest rising and falling, the motion hypnotic to him, and teasing. He wanted to touch her, taste her, and bring her to her knees....if not literally then figuratively.
Driven by his own primal urges, he went straight for her buttons, and instead of unbuttoning them, tore her shirt open.
He heard the scatter of buttons hitting the wood floor, but it was her small shriek of surprise that sparked his libido all that much more. Causing a flush of excitement to lurch deep within the cavity of his chest as well as his trousers.

She gasped, her head lolling back against the rough wood of the wall, as he slipped his fingers beneath her bra, pushing it aside, and suddenly she was bare and in his hands. The icy chill of the night air on her exposed, flushed skin was cooling, as he set her on fire with his touch, running his thumbs over her nipples.
And when she felt his skilled mouth envelop her left breast, she moaned unashamedly as he licked and suckled with an erotic enthusiasm that threatened to test her own self restraint.
She grasped onto his shoulders tightly, tugging in desperation. As if silently begging for him to give her life or take it.
She wanted more, more of him. More of this and them. Whatever it was. It didn't seem there were words enough to define it. She was frightened, and thrilled and elated by what they had become. There was no way of naming it. And for now, they were just Beetlejuice and Lydia...that was for now, if they were still two and had not merged into one, somewhere along the line.

Having to suppress a groan, Beetlejuice was inwardly wrestling with his demons. Pesky little bunch of bastards that they were.
She thankfully seemed oblivious to the inner turmoil he was faced with, as his shaft throbbed eagerly inside his striped pants, like a heat-seeking missile, honed in on her warm core. Even through the irksome, inconvenient barrier of their clothing he could feel her heat, inviting and beckoning him inside. Yes he knew in that instant she would welcome him in gladly, he sensed her arousal and willingness just as she sensed his need and urgency.
And damn it, the temptation was bound to bring about his demise.
He wanted her so badly it physically pained him, and as she pressed herself to him, silently giving her permission to take whatever he wanted, it hurt even more feeling so compelled to not accept the invitation.

He had to decline. As much as he wanted to take her right there and then, and fuck her senseless until she started speaking in tongues....something was preventing him.
Something was stopping him. Much to his annoyance. The time didn't feel right. He felt she deserved better. A better scenario, better surroundings...a better suitor...
...Wait. No. Surely he hadn't just thought that? And what if, after allowing him to have his wicked way with her due to her lust-filled stupor, she regretted it afterwards? Agh!

Irritated now, knowing his reluctance stemmed from the onset of low self esteem, and self doubt, he reacted instinctively by dropping dramatically to his knees in front of her.
So, he was suffering with an uncharacteristic attack of nerves, nothing more...he shrugged the uneasiness off.
It'd pass, he assured himself, and he'd worry about it another day. Right now, he wanted to reduce Lydia Deetz to a trembling, jibbering wreck. He wanted to claim her in a way that no one ever had before, and he figured he was on the right track, judging by her confused and concerned expression.
Oh boy, did she have a big surprise in store for her, and hopefully she'd enjoy it just as much as he undoubtedly would.
Plus it'd get her warmed up nicely for a later date, leaving her wanting more. Yeah, full sex would be saved for opening night...this was just another dress rehearsal, but one that still wouldn't ever be forgotten either.

Lifting her skirt with one hand, he settled himself between her thighs with determination, and pushed her panties to one side as if annoyed by the whole convention of wearing clothes.

"W-wait..what...what are you doing?"
She stammered breathlessly, immediately tensing at his actions. She wasn't a complete idiot, and had a very clear idea of what his intentions were.
"We can't. I've never, I mean....oh...god!"
The last two words came out in a strangled cry, as she felt him pressing his whole mouth against her.

Bingo, he thought, as he began the tantalising assault with his formidable tongue, and...sweet Jesus, she was delicious in every sense of the word. He could feel her breaths growing increasingly shallow as she attempted to twist and writhe against him, her grip on his shoulders tightening considerably whilst he lapped at her greedily.

"Oh god..oh..Beetle-um..oh god, please...please."
Sounding as if she was muttering a prayer, her vocabulary appeared to have reverted to that of a toddler, and she had to bite her lip hard to keep from crying his name as he made slow, aching circles with his remorseless tongue.

Oh this was bad. He was so very bad, and she was bad. Having strayed down this dark path of depraved carnal pleasure, allowing him to do these things to her, and in a church of all places. She was most definitely going to hell, she decided. But couldn't have cared less, as right now she'd never felt so heaven bound.
The muscles in her thighs tensed, and her legs trembled, threatening to buckle at any moment. But he held her firmly in his strong hands, pulling her to him like she was an offering. He was strong, so strong but completely controlled. She knew what he could do to her if he so chose, even without his powers. He could destroy her. And knowing she was at his mercy added to the intensity, heightening the pleasure.

His cold lips, his tongue, were perfect. His expert teasing licks caused a sweet maddening tension to spread throughout her petite body. And now her hips involuntarily bucked slightly against his mouth, causing a low groan to escape from him, reverberating along her tingling skin.
She was shaking, panting and making noises she didn't even realise she could make. The relentless, fluttering dips making her unravel like a ball of yarn that was being played with. Played with by a lion.
The tightening increased, the sensitivity intensifying, and she momentarily clasped her legs to his head. Still, at least she wasn't going to suffocate him...
But as her back bowed, he forced her thighs apart wider, affording him better access as he nuzzled into her.

Muttering pleas of desperation under her breath, she felt certain she would snap under the pressure of the tightening, as he held her firmly in place so that she couldn't escape the pleasure. So that she couldn't escape him. And with the softest nudge of the tip of his skilful tongue, he masterfully pushed her into sweet oblivion.
"Beetlejuice!"
His name tore from her chest before she could stop herself, and stars studded her vision despite her eyes being screwed tightly shut. Shuddering, she collapsed against him as her orgasm devastated her.

She could feel him shaking as well. She could feel him panting against her, and she could sense the pleasure he got from making her that way.
Pulling back slightly to look up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, his hands remained in place in order to support her weight and keep her upright.
"I'll let you off just this once. On this occasion I don't object to the name calling."
He breathed, a self-satisfied smirk playing upon his glistening lips.

Hot damn, he thought. Struggling to think clearly through the lust-filled haze that was fogging up his mind. He had never, in all his existence been so turned on before. And whilst his arousal still gnawed away at him, he felt no frustration, or resentment. Just pure, unadulterated bliss, for having been the first to do this to her. To his wife.

"God.."
She managed at long last, her body still wavering as he carefully rose to his feet.
"..what the fuck was that?"

Unable to bite back a low chuckle, he eyed her steadily and licked his lips. Making her cheeks flame.
"That, my love...is what makes the difference between a lousy boyfriend, and a fan-fuckin'-tastic husband."

Rearranging her clothes as best she could, she let out a small burst of laughter which dissipated as she registered his words.
Okay, so firstly he'd just called her his love. Her heart skipped a beat, but she dismissed it hastily, not daring to place too much emphasis on his wordplay. Secondly though, and more importantly, he'd just referred to himself as her husband, despite having taken the ring from her and thrown it away.

Stretching to his full height, he loomed above her now. Gently resting his forehead against hers.
"Why did you take the ring?"
She asked, affixing her eyes on his black tie.

"Why were you wearing it?"
He shot back immediately, and his response made her heart feel heavy once more.

Knowing she'd most likely never get a straight answer from him was infuriating and disappointing, but something about the moment, the intimacy they'd just shared, and him in general, made her respond simply and truthfully.
"I wanted to feel close to you."

Drawing back, he surveyed her closely for a moment, and then in the next instant he was hurriedly tugging and pulling at the ring on his left hand. His precious, beloved garnet ring that he'd never be without. Twisting, and turning it between his fingers, working it loose until at last he prised it off and held it triumphantly between his thumb and forefinger.
"It was fuckin' worthless, but this...this is my ring."
He declared, holding it aloft like a most prized possession. And then without thinking he did the unthinkable, the unimaginable. He dropped down on one knee, his bones cracking due to the boisterous movement.

Her eyes rounded in their sockets, and the breath caught in her throat. He wasn't doing what she thought he was doing, was he?
He couldn't be. It wasn't possible.
Then in typical Beetlejuice style, he opened his mouth and ruined the moment..

"I guess I never did ask you properly did I? But hell, what can I say? If you'll have me, I promise to make your pussy wet not your eyes. I'll break your bed not your heart, and I'll play with your tits not your feelings. Just as long as you get on my dick and not my nerves."

Shaking her head in shocked disbelief, she reached out and urged him to stand.
"Wow. You really are something. That's your idea of a romantic proposal? Because it needs work. How could a girl resist?"
She remarked scathingly, folding her arms firmly across her chest.

Shrugging, he persisted by offering the ring to her anyway. In spite of his botched attempt at being romantic. And something in his body language made her bemused smile fade.
"Ever heard of quantum entanglement?"

Nodding slowly, her eyes flicked between the beautiful red stoned ring he held between his dirty, pointed nails, and his serious face.
"Yeah, like the theory of entanglement? When you separate an entwined particle and you move both parts away from the other, even at opposite ends of the universe, if you alter or affect one, the other will also be altered or affected."

"It ain't just a theory, it's a proven thing. And it happens when two particles are so deeply linked, they basically share the same existence."
He explained, his lulling voice low and serious. And in order to emphasis his point, he took her hand in his, and entwined his long fingers through her own.
"Otherwise known as...spooky action at a distance."

Blinking rapidly, she felt her chest tighten as the gravity of his words sunk in. Was he actually saying that he believed they were made for each other? That they were destined to be together? And that whatever their souls were made of, his and hers were the same?
Raising her eyes to meet his, she suddenly felt overwhelmed by the sincerity of his gesture, and the tender vulnerability right there before her. A haunting shade of innocence she'd never dared dream of witnessing in him.

Not trusting herself to speak, instead of taking the ring, she found herself proffering her trembling left hand out to him.
Holding it steady within his own, he carefully slipped his ring onto the correct finger, and with a nod of his head he juiced it in order to fit snugly in place.
"You know what, babe?"
He fired the most endearing smile, straight into her eyes. Dazzling her and making her heart swell.
"I reckon you and me could really make a go of this living in unholy matrimony thing."