lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
[personal profile] lb_lee
So.  One of my flist is snarking Anita Blake, Vampire Humper Hunter, by Laurell K. Hamilton.  For those who aren't familiar with the series, it started as a mediocre urban fantasy series, and then halfway through morphed into a really bad urban fantasy porno series.  Badly researched BDSM, men with ridiculously large penises, incompetent writing, one-way poly, and more creepy consent gray areas than I can shake a stick at.

One of my friends said that he thought he could write better porn, and he didn't write.  I added that I thought I could write better porn, and I'm a prude.

You see where this is going?  I'm sure you do.  I have decided that I am going to write porn, for the good of us all!  And I am going to do it better than Laurell K. Hamilton.

So yeah.  Give me a prompt, and I will write porn of it.  Be as thorough or vague as you want.

There are some things I have too big of squicks for to write convincingly.  They are:
  • rape/dubious consent
  • children
  • guro/vore
  • Nazis (or insert Terrifying Oppressor here)
So make me write porn, guys!  And I'll do it better than Hamilton!

(Comments screened, unless you ask me to do otherwise.) Man, you guys are shameless perverts! *laughs* Unscreened comments.

Make You Happy Part 1

Date: 2011-03-08 05:50 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
To be fair, Fred hadn't KNOWN the house was haunted.

Sure, there'd been rumors, and sure, he'd gotten the place ridiculously cheap, and sure, the kids would stare at him and then run away... but to be fair, the house had been kind of a fixer upper, and he'd never quite understood children. So he passed it off, signed the mortgage, and moved in.

He'd chosen the house to start over in, and it was perfect for the purpose. Small, cozy, in the middle of nowhere--the kitchen was too small, and the pipes were probably older than his parents, but the shower was huge, and should Fred ever get back into swing of things again, there was the possibility of a nice garden under all the weeds.

Quiet. Peaceful. Solitary.

The first clue that something was amiss was an odd cold spot in the hall. It was right at the doorway to his

bedroom, so he couldn't avoid it, and it always seemed to be in shadow, no matter what part of day it was. At first, he assumed the old pipes were malfunctioning, but when he went into the basement to check, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with them, and finally. As the summer got hotter, he became appreciative for the cool spot: it was the most bearable place in the house.

Then it started talking to him.

At first, he just thought it was the wind getting through the window, until it started forming breathy, whispery words, in a perplexed, sorrowful voice:

"Henry. Henry?"

For the first week, Fred thought he was imagining things. For the second, he began to worry there was something seriously the matter with him. He tried sleeping on the couch in the living room, but that didn't help; he still had to walk by the cold spot to get to the bathroom, and whenever he did, it would ask plaintively, "Henry?"

By the third week, Fred had decided that the cold spot was a ghost, and that he was sick of its incompetent haunting.

"Stop it!" He shouted at it. "My name's not Henry! It's Fred! Fred!"

The ghost immediately went silent, as though cowed, and Fred stomped off to take a shower. He scrubbed at himself fiercely, wondering what had possessed him to sign a mortgage for a house with a talking cold spot outside the bedroom.

But after the initial aggravation, he felt bad. The ghost hadn't been trying to upset him; it had just been asking a question, and it had sounded rather confused. Deceased or not, there was no reason to be rude; the ghost had as much a right to civility as anyone else.

So he washed the shampoo out of his hair, wrapped himself in a towel, and walked back into the hall.

The cold spot was still there, and he could still feel the goosebumps raising on his arms and back, but its shadow had shrunk in on itself. It seemed... unhappy.

"Here," Fred said, feeling a little foolish talking to the air, "I'm sorry for shouting at you. You didn't deserve that, and I won't do it again. But I'm not Henry."

The shadow unfurled a little bit. "Henry?"

Fred shook his head. "I'm Fred. I own this house now."

The ghost was silent for a moment, as though pondering this change in situation. "Fred," it finally said. It didn't sound upset or sorrowful now. If anything, it sounded... relieved.

"That's right. What's your name?"

The ghost took a while to respond. It'd probably been a while since anyone had tried to speak to it.

"I--I don't remember," it admitted, its shadow folding in again.

Make You Happy Part 2

Date: 2011-03-08 05:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

That seemed a shame. Fred felt bad for this ghost who had probably been stuck all alone in this house for god only knew how long.

"Would you like some tea?" He asked, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. "Er... can you drink?"

The ghost couldn't, but it appreciated the effort, and seemed to enjoy having a steaming cup of tea in front of it. Fred pulled on a pair of pants, grabbed himself a cup of his own, and sat crosslegged in the hall across from the cold spot, just as though it were any other guest.

"It's funny," he said, watching the steam from the ghost's cup move in peculiar, oddly aesthetic ways. "I actually moved here to get away from people, but I don't mind having you here. Probably good for me; I'd just hole up and never come out, otherwise."

The ghost responded by making the teacup give off little rings of steam in progressively smaller sizes. He took it to mean it was enjoying his company.

"Can I ask--" Fred winced and abruptly tugged at his hair. "Er, no. No, that's far too personal for someone I've just met..."

"I don't remember," the ghost replied in its breathy whisper. It sounded a little more clear-headed, now that it was involved in active conversation. "If you mean why I'm here."

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I can't remember, so it isn't painful. But I'm glad Henry is gone," it said stubbornly.

"Who's Henry?"

The ghost was silent for a while, twirling the teacup steam into a spiral. "I don't want to talk about it," it said.

"Of course; I understand."

After that, Fred and the ghost spent many happy hours talking to each other. Fred would tell the ghost stories about this or that, and the ghost would manipulate steam from teacups, or bubbles from a bubble wand. (It especially liked the bubble wand; Fred bought a few at the local store for it, ignoring the odd looks he received.) The ghost didn't remember very much, and seemed confused most of the time, but it seemed to enjoy his company, and the more he talked to it, the more cohesive it seemed. It was able to talk more, and about more varied topics, and it proved to be rather intelligent, if a little prone to disorientation.

After a week, Fred asked if it could leave the hall, perhaps spend some time with him in the garden (which he was fixing up now).

"No," the ghost admitted sadly. "I've tried. I can't leave."

"That's a shame," Fred said. "Do you think you have unfinished business?"

The ghost was silent in the way that meant it did, but didn't want to admit to it.

"You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want," Fred said, blowing it a few bubbles to cheer it up.

"I was not happy here," the ghost said abruptly.

It was the first time it'd volunteered information about its life, and Fred quickly put the bubble wand away.

"I lived here all my life," the ghost said, sending the bubbles in idle circles, "and I was not happy. Then I died, and I was not happy. You are helping make me happy, Fred. Thank you. But I'm still here."

"Perhaps you're not happy enough," Fred said, getting to his feet. He took up the bubble wand again. "Here. What have you always wanted to do?"

The ghost's shadow wriggled happily. "Dance," it breathed.

And so Fred put on loud doo-wop and disco music, and he put on socks so he could slide on the wood floor better, and he put on a light so that the ghost's shadow stood out better, and they danced in the hall until five in the morning. In the glaring light, the ghost's shadow looked almost human, and it was indeed a good dancer. Eventually Fred's mortal body exhausted itself, and he had to go to bed.

"Are you happy?" He asked the ghost.

"Yes," it said, "but I'm still here."

"I'll keep making you happy, then," he said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," it told him, and curled patiently at his doorframe to wait for when he woke up.

Make You Happy Part 3

Date: 2011-03-08 05:54 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

The second night, Fred asked what would make the ghost happy, and the ghost said that it had always liked to play Trivial Pursuit. Fred had to go out and buy a copy, and then the ghost had to teach him how to play, but it was a patient teacher, and a bit outdated, so he ended up giving it a pretty good run for its money. They laughed at the trivia they didn't know, and crowed over the ones they did, and the ghost ended up winning, but only by a little.

As they celebrated with steaming hot cocoa, Fred asked, "Are you happy?"

"Yes," it said, "but I'm still here."

"I'll keep making you happy, then," he said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," it told him, and waited at his bedroom door for the next day.

The third day, Fred had to work late. He came back hot, sweaty, and cranky. When he went down the hall to the bedroom to take off his suit, the ghost (whose shadow had become distinctly humanlike and whose voice was now clearly audible) greeted him with, "Hello, Fred. How was your day?"

"Miserable," Fred said, tearing off his tie. "Absolutely miserable."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." Fred shed his shirt and wiped the sweat off his brow with it. "It's over now, anyway. Here. What would make you happy tonight?"

After a moment, the ghost leaned over the doorframe (the furthest it could move) and said, "You have been making me happy these days. I want to make you happy this time."

"Well, that's very nice of you," Fred said, "but to be fair, it's a lot easier for me to get you things than you can get things for me, seeing as you're stuck in that one spot in the hall and all."

The ghost was silent. Fred winced and went to work untying his shoes.

"I'm sorry, that was thoughtless of me. What I mean is, you're wonderful company, and I enjoy being with you. That makes me happy."

The ghost was silent, and its shadow appeared to fidget.

"What is it?"

"It makes me happy too," the ghost said in an oddly hesitant voice, "but I'm still here." It seemed to think for a moment, then asked, "Would you...?"


In a rush, and in a more high-pitched whisper than usual: "Would you like to have sex with me?"

Fred nearly turned his shoelaces into a knot. "I beg your pardon?"

"You don't have to!" The ghost said frantically, and its shadow was definitely fidgeting now. "You can say no, and we can play Trivial Pursuit and dance and drink tea, and that's wonderful too!"

Fred paused to think this over. "Then you want...?"

"Yes," the ghost said firmly.

"But... I'm sorry, why? I'm not a handsome man, and--"

"You're a nice one," the ghost said. "I was never able to have sex with a good man before I died, and I always wanted to. Besides," it added, "I think you're handsome."

Fred knew he was blushing, but he was smiling. "I've never had sex with a ghost before. Do you think that's possible?"

"You have danced with me, and played Trivial Pursuit with me, and had tea with me," the ghost pointed out. "Sex will be easy. If you want to..."

Fred grinned. "I think I would. You're a good person, and I like you. But... er... how would it...?"

"Come here," the ghost ordered.

Fred began to reach for his shoes, but the ghost waved a shadowy arm at him. "No, no, as you are. Come here."

Fred walked to the ghost in his stocking feet and his work pants. The shadow edged to the fringe of its small space and raised shadowy arms. A soothing coolness ran over Fred's forehead and cheeks, blissful relief from the hot summer outside, and Fred closed his eyes with a sigh.

"Nice?" the ghost asked.

Fred made a content sound as it ran its hands down his neck and collarbone. "Yes, that's nice."

"Good." For a moment, the coolness embraced him, chasing away the evening heat. Goosebumps broke out over Fred's skin again, across his back, down his chest. Then the ghost pulled back and ordered, in firm tones he hadn't heard from it before, "Now, undo your belt."

"What, here in the hall?"

"It's your house. Who will know?" The ghost laughed. "You didn't worry about looking odd when you bought the bubble wands."

Fred reached for his belt and undid it, while the ghost hummed contentedly and ran a cool, invisible, hand over his hair and pressed a barely tangible kiss to his forehead, his cheek, his lips.

Make You Happy Part 4

Date: 2011-03-08 05:54 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

"You know," Fred remarked as he worked the belt free of his pant loops, "I don't know if you're a boy or a girl ghost."

"Does it matter?" the ghost asked, seeming to eye him cheerfully.

"No," Fred laughed, "I suppose not." The laugh turned into a gasp as the ghost ran its cool hands over his chest and down his stomach, playing around his hips.

"Pretty," the ghost remarked, with a tinge of sadness. "I wish I had gotten to see this sooner. Now, close your eyes, come into my spot, and hold your arms out, please."

Fred shut his eyes, stepped into the middle of the ghost's spot, and it explored him, a playful cool breeze over his back, teasing the spots under his upper arms and behind his ears. It seemed to delight in the opportunity, and in making Fred squirm.

"You can touch yourself now," it said. "I'd like to watch."

Fred felt the heat in his cheeks intensify. "Are you sure? I--"

"Oh yes," the ghost said, in a tone that made him suspect it was enjoying his embarrasment a little too much. "But make sure I can see. I can't touch you more myself, so I shall live vicariously through you."

Fred shivered, but the ghost was smiling in its voice, and he'd never had an experience quite like this before, so even though he was not an outgoing man, he reached for his pants, undid them, and stepped out of them. While he did, the ghost pressed against his back, a cool almost-solid, nuzzling against the back of his neck.

"So pretty," it whispered against his ear. "You're so pretty."

Fred had never been called pretty before; he felt the burn in his ears. "I can't see you, but I'm certain you are too," he said, inhaling sharply as the ghost reached through his briefs to run its cool hands up his thighs.

"Touch yourself," it crooned in his ear. "I know I'm cold, and I'd hate to--"

Fred laughed before he could stop himself. "No, no, I don't think I'd enjoy that," he admitted, reaching down to slide his underwear down his hips and take a grip on himself. "But--but thank you for thinking of me."

The ghost touched his ear in a way that might have been a nuzzle, might have been a lick, and leaned over his shoulder to watch him stroke himself, touching him, giving him orders, purring encouragement.

"You're going slow," it whispered to him.

"Y-yes?" Fred's breathing was rough now.

"Go rougher."

Fred whimpered, but tightened his grip. His hips were starting to move, pushing into his hand. The ghost watched the proceedings with growing satisfaction.

"Yes," it said, running a ghostly finger over his nipple to make him jump. "This is what I've wanted to see for a long time. You're beautiful when you enjoy yourself."

Fred bit his lip. "I--I won't--"

"You don't have to last forever," the ghost soothed, playing with his hair. "I want to watch you have fun. That makes me happy."

With that urging, Fred leaned against the wall, breathing ragged, hand moving quick and fast, while the ghost purred endearments and touched him. He tried to cover his mouth, stop the embarrassing sounds he was making, but the ghost touched his hand and ordered, "Leave it."

He did, and could no longer keep his rhythm, and when the ghost whispered, "I would bite you, if I could," he came with a sigh.

"Are you happy?" He asked when he'd come back to himself and pulled his briefs back up.

But there was only silence.

Fred looked around. "Ghost?"

The shadow was gone. The cold spot was gone. Oh no.


Fred ransacked the house, but of course it was no good. The ghost--his ghost--was gone.

Make You Happy Part 5

Date: 2011-03-08 05:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

Fred plodded through his days after that. He tugged weeds mindlessly in his garden, and he worked from eight o'clock in the morning to four in the afternoon. He would come home and lie in the hall with a cup of tea, but it would only sit and grow cold.

Then one Sunday morning, he woke up and left his bedroom--and felt a cold spot in the air.


"Hello, Fred," the shadow said, and its voice was smiling again.

Fred couldn't hug the ghost, but he tried, and he laughed as he cried.

"I worried you were gone forever!" He said.

"I almost was," it told him. "With you, I was happy, and that resolved the pain that kept me here. I went to where I was supposed to be."

"But then... how...?"

The ghost cradled Fred's face between soothing cool hands. "I was happier with you. And now that I am free of the pain that bound me here, I can finally see your garden."

Fred felt his face break into a grin. He reached for the ghost and ran for the garden, where his bubble wands awaited him.

Re: Make You Happy Part 5

Date: 2017-04-16 07:59 pm (UTC)
desertroot: Agave - a smooth and spiny desert plant with wildflowers growing in front (Default)
From: [personal profile] desertroot
A bit late -

But this is beautiful!
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