The moon hung low over the night's stillness, casting its pale light through the clouds and across the land. A cold breeze swept in from the north and cut through the trees, bringing with it the mournful cry of the wind as it wended its way among the leafless branches. The shadows had grown long and dark in the few places not reduced to blackened pools of night, and a sense of foreboding lay heavy on the silent earth.

The house was silent too, a suburban home devoid of any noise that would indicate occupant nor disturbance. Well, except for the television. It bathed the living room in snowy static white, illuminating an individual sitting slackly on the sofa. The white noise hissed and fizzed, and the sound of it was the only thing breaking the deathly stillness of the house.

Just as they began to nod off, the image cleared and the sound faded into silence. A well, with a single figure standing in the moonlight. Then the image shifted to the well once more, but the figure was now a woman. A young woman. Her head was bowed, and her hands clasped behind her back. Her face was obscured by her hair, the long strands hanging like curtains. Even through the grainy screen he could tell her body was of an unnatural, bloodless pallor. The woman didn't move, her face downcast and staring at the ground.

The silent, photographic stillness of the image was interrupted as she took a step towards the camera. Then another. Then another. Then blackness. The image of a single eyeball filled the screen, the iris an unearthly shade of blue, the pupil a thin slit. The eyelid twitched. Then blackness again. They couldn't keep their heart from picking up speed as they waited.

All was quiet until light erupted from the television. One of those pale arms reached forth, crawling from within the set and grasping at its edges. Then the other, and slowly a female form pulled itself from the TV. Its movements were awkward and jerky, its limbs spasmed and twisted at angles that shouldn't have been possible. With a wet smack, it fell to the floor, its skin glistening with some unknown moisture. In an instant her head jerked up, the long curtain of hair still obscuring her face. Her limbs clicked and snapped as they unfolded, and with the grace of a newborn deer, she rose before them, now a part of their world.

She was a beautiful part. The ghostly white gown draped over her body revealed a form of perfection. Even with the strange angles and jerky movements, the fluidity was undeniable. They couldn't take their eyes off of her. Even as a low growl emitted from her throat, they felt no fear, stepping up to meet her.

She followed him to the bed, her movements graceful despite the stiffness in her limbs. Reaching up, she placed a pale hand on his chest and leaned in close, her breath against his ear. A low moan escaped her throat as he lowered himself onto the mattress beside her. Gently but firmly, she pushed him down into the pillows before crawling atop of him, her ghostly form a cold weight upon his warmth. Once settled, she looked up at him with those unsettling blue eyes, her expression one of longing and adoration.

The ghost looks down at him with an expression that manages to look both guilty and sad. Her hand slowly reaches up, cupping his cheek. She grunts softly before lowering her head, pressing her forehead against his skin, the cold of it sending shivers through him. It's a desperate motion, pleading for understanding and forgiveness even if there is no memory or explanation to offer. Her body remains still for a moment, save for small tremors running through it as she tries to hide the strength that would otherwise be easily felt.

When she finally speaks, her voice raspy with emotion: "I... don't know." It's not a lie, but it doesn't feel like the truth either. The desperation in her words and actions betray a sense of loss and fear that goes beyond any confusion about identity.

She nods slowly, lowering her forehead to rest on his shoulder as she takes in a shaky breath. Her grip on him tightens ever so slightly, seeking comfort and reassurance that this new connection isn't just another fleeting thing in the endless void of existence. The pressure from her weight feels more gentle now, less like something to push away and more like something to hold onto. In response to his sympathy, she manages a small grunt that could perhaps be taken as an approximation of a sob.

Without taking her eyes off him, she carefully lifts one pale hand and gently touches the side of his neck, tracing lazy circles on his skin. The sensation sends sparks through her entire body, a reminder that even as a disembodied spirit, she can still feel and desire physical contact. It's an intimate gesture, both vulnerable and possessive at once.

The cold touch against his skin is replaced by the heat of desire as she returns his kiss with equal passion and longing. Her grip on him tightens even further, pulling their bodies flush against each other in a desperate attempt to feel more connected. Her tongue darts out, dancing with his as her slim form writhes upon his. For this brief moment, the coldness that has defined her existence for so long is banished, replaced by an overwhelming warmth that threatens to consume them both.

Her moans of pleasure are barely audible above the pounding of their hearts, but he can feel every one of those vibrations as they race against each other, their bodies moving in perfect syncopation. She doesn't know who she is or how long it will be before this connection fades away, but for now she lives only in this moment, lost to the sensations and feelings that this newfound love

She arches into his touch, her hips moving frantically against him as she gasps out his name and begs for more. The sensation of his hand on her breast is so sharp it hurts in the best possible way, making her nipple harden even further beneath the thin fabric of her gown. Her fingers dig into his back, claws of desire scratching at him as he brings them closer to ecstasy with every stroke and caress. She can feel herself growing wet where they're connected, a cold drop slipping between their bodies before disappearing into the mattress beneath them.

Her breath comes in short, sharp gasps as her limbs tremble with unfulfilled need. Every part of her aches for this feeling, this connection to something that feels so real and right it threatens to consume her entirely. In this moment, she knows she could never go back to being the cold, empty spirit who

The ghostly figure freezes at the proposition, her pale form trembling with uncertainty and desire. She looks up into his eyes, searching for some indication of whether this is something he truly wants or if it would hurt her in ways she can't even begin to understand. Her mouth opens but no sound comes out as she struggles to find words that aren't already part of a language she only just started learning today. Finally, her expression softens into a look of tentative trust and desire, and with a small nod she relents. "Okay." She whispers hoarsely, her voice barely audible above the sound of their ragged breathing.

Her eyes squeeze shut and she lets out a sharp moan as he enters her. The sensation is unlike anything she's ever felt before, hot and full and demanding in a way that sends shivers through every fiber of her ghostly form. With each gentle thrust, he pushes deeper inside, filling the cold emptiness that has been her since... She can't remember when it started. All she knows is this moment, this connection to him, and how right it feels. Her hands grasp at his shoulders, nails digging into the skin as she arches her back off the bed in response to each thrust, meeting his movements with equal urgency.