“You--hhhah--you ready for this dick in ya, h-hot stuff?”
The air filled with the sound of rustling sheets and faint, wanton moans. In most cases, especially in regards to the homes situated at the tops of foreboding hills on the outskirts of old towns like Winter River, one would be led to believe that restless spirits haunted the halls of creaky white-washed home. In other, far more sane cases, one would just assume there was a party having a particularly juicy, yet difficult threesome.
In the Deetz Family’s attic, one would be correct in assuming either. Both were correct.
“Yeah… yeah I bet you are, you dirty little slut…” Beetlejuice grunted, pressed to Adam’s freckled back as the ghostly husband moved with his thrusts. He slowed, however, when he noticed he and Adam weren’t entirely in sync. “Could ya, hhh, keep up, sexy? Not gonna hit the sweet spot if you don’t move right?”
“I am keeping up,” Adam breathed, peaking over his shoulder at the shorter, stockier man as he gripped the headboard. He had Barbara Maitland pinned between him and the carved white wood, his wife flushed but trying a little too hard to be enjoying herself. “I’ve told you three times already-- I like starting slow.”
“But we’ve been going slow all fucking evening!” Beetlejuice protested, thumping the man’s shoulder and interrupting Barbara from whatever fantasies she was dreaming up while riding her husband. His eyes comically bugged out of their sockets, forming slug-like eye stalks that glared daggers. “Any slower and I’d be a fuckin’ snail!”
“Oh no, oh, c-c’mon boys,” Barbara groaned, head falling onto Adam’s shoulder despairingly, “No more fighting, I was just about there--”
“Well maybe this wouldn’t be such a problem ,” Adam huffed, shooting him a glare at the protruding eyeballs, wincing as he turned his torso as best he could while still keeping his rear end in the correct position. “Nnh-- If you could stand to be just a smidge more romantic! ”
The proverbial needle scratched on the metaphorical record. Thanks to Beetlejuice, the sound was audible, perfectly timed, and entirely unappreciated.
“Smidge? Romantic??” When a series of disgusting squelching noises focused around his nether-regions, he separated his extension from Adam’s entryway, the act followed by a satisfying, faint pop. “Fuck-- you gotta be kidding me?! Don’t you know that romance is the surefire way to kill a hardon??
Adam winced at the sounds more than the movement itself. Beetlejuice had, blessedly, agreed to lube up prior to. He huffed as he tried to sit down and let Barbara pull her own self loose, wincing at the tenderness. “Well, maybe if you were any good at this-- I wouldn’t have to use that kind of talk!”
“Excuse me? ” Beetlejuice growled.
Adam froze. Barbara sighed, an entirely displeased sound, leaning back against the headboard like a displeased fan at the world’s most predictable football game.
“Did I say that out loud?”
“You did, sweetie.”
“Yeah, you fucking did.”
Adam floundered between sinking under Beetlejuice’s pointed, gleaming glare, shining like a wolf who’s snout had just been slapped by a brave, stupid rabbit. He shot a pleading glance to Barbara, who simply shook her head and raised her hands, leaving Adam to his fate.
“Wait, I-I didn’t--”
“Nope, that’s it. It’s out there!” said Beetlejuice. “So glad to know what you really think, Adam.”
“I didn’t mean it like that--!”
“Like what? ” he snarled. “Like I don’t know how to pound your twink ass into next friday? I like didn’t spend every waking moment perfecting my dong-in-hole technique while trapped in this armpit of a dimensional plane? Like I don’t know how to have sex?” At every word, the demon began to lean closer and closer towards the once-living man, voice growing more and more unsettling, as if the very floorboards shook with his rage. He’d thankfully refrained from making the walls ooze with green slime. His last episode had been far more dramatic, and equally messy. “Because I’m pretty sure you fuckin’ meant it exactly like that. ”
“No! No no no, I only meant to say that-- you’re not exactly keen on listening to us when we try to give you direction,” said Adam.
“What a load of--” hackles raised, Beetlejuice jabbed a black-polished fingernail against Adam’s bare chest. “I listen to you guys all the time!”
“Oh yeah?” Adam crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “Name one time.”
The demon opened his mouth to argue back, centuries of arming contracts to the teeth under his belt. He was a businessman, a businessman who dealt with souls goddammit, he knew his way around an argument. All he had to do was pick the right moment. The right words. Something-- anything to defend his honor in the most obnoxious. meticulous possible… only to recall very suddenly recall two very important aspects about himself:
Firstly, he hated his job. And secondly, much to his detriment, Adam was right. He was really bad at listening and doing what he was told. Most days were a struggle to even follow simple instructions on the back of instant-oatmeal packs. But could anyone blame him? He was a demon, for antichrist’s sake, he wasn’t manufactured with the intent on following orders unless they came with hefty threats peppered in, to spice things up.
So he did what anyone else would’ve done, caught between matching, disheartening glares from a pair of entirely exhausted lovers after spending the majority of what was supposed to be a romantic evening wasting everyone’s time because, in spite of his many, many trips down Innuendo Lane, he was falling short of running the show. The ghost with the most himself, failing at being the master of his own ceremony.
Feeling his ego chip and crack, he deflected. “No. You know what? No! I’m done. Fuck you.”
Beetlejuice fell back onto the bed, clad in nothing but an undershirt riddled with mysterious stains and the world’s deepest frown, his hair even messier than usual and shaded in a deep, deep rusty red. He grabbed a previously discarded pillow and buried his face into it, hiding the color threatening to rise on his face.
“Aww, Beetlejuice, don’t be like that!” Adam sighed, more than used to this merry-go-round by now. “We can still try again.”
A keening, frustrated growl was all that answer him, muffled by the pillow. The growl only intensified when Adam and Barbara slid next to him on both sides, trapping him with a gentle embrace.
Barbara stroked the red arm hair on Beetlejuice's arm and sighed. “Adam, maybe we should just… call it a night. We’re not exactly making any progress here.”
“We can’t give up! We’ve been trying to get ourselves some real alone time together for months,” Adam practically draped himself across the sulking demon, reveling in a small sense of accomplishment when he felt Beeltejuice relax against the close, naked contact.
“I know, I know,” she sighed, mirroring her husband’s movements, and smiling as she felt the tension leave their demon’s clenched, pillow-suffocating grip.
That evening marked the one month anniversary of Adam and Barbara Maitland taking the blind plunge into a relationship with the ghost with the most.
It had not been easy. Nearly a year of conflicted feelings, hard conversations, and even harder to swallow apologies stood between the ghosts and the demon, a towering mausoleum of problems. But after digging past the graves, past the disgusting, decaying striped suit, and all the centuries of loneliness and deeply hidden hurt, Adam and Barbara found a surprisingly easy-to-please corpse underneath. A little bruised and a not entirely trusting, but easy. Far easier than they expected. What was once a lecherous rogue --lifting Barbara’s skirts and dipping Adam for a five-minute frenching-- now stood a flustered darling, immobilized by a gentle kiss on the cheek or a tender hug. It hardly took any effort to make him happy.
The same could not be said, unfortunately, once the trio finally felt it was time to take their relationship to the bedroom.
“But we’ve been at this for almost…” Barbara looked at their ticking cat clock, practically an antique, and scoffed. “Four hours now. Maybe we should take a break and try again in an hour? Charles, Delia, and Lydia won’t be back from their vacation for another couple of days. We still have tomorrow evening and the weekend.”
Adam sighed, shrugging off the guilt as best he could, looking very tired despite not aging a day since his death. “I guess I could make us some tea. Or maybe coffee.” He gave the demon buried underneath the pillow and gentle shake. “Beetlejuice, I’m going to grab a drink, do you want any--”
“NO! ” His grip on the pillow tightened, his growling starting the Maitlands from their impromptu cuddling. “You guys suck! I can’t even look at you! Go away!”
They’d tried everything Beetlejuice suggested. Every trick from the book --his book, currently in progress, soon to be published in every dirty restroom both in the living world and the beyond-- from upstairs to downstairs. Everything he guaranteed would score them the most satisfying orgy of their afterlives, from the San Diego Thank You to the-- ugh -- Space Dock Fondue . When nothing from the demon’s imagination worked, the Maitlands had dug up their abandoned box of early-marriage-unmentionables from the far corner of the attic-- buried so far back that only someone able to phase through walls could reach it. Dildos, vibrators, and various other leather trappings lay scattered across their bed. Even then, nothing quite edged them close enough to a satisfying climax, to their own bodies nor their evening.
It was really starting to wear on them.
“So it’s suddenly our fault that you can’t get it up?” said Adam, leaning up onto his elbow with a dry glare.
The demon peeked over the edge of his soft shield and returned it. “Dick. I can get it up just fine! If you guys would stop messing with my mojo we could get the fucking orgasms out of the way and move on with our afterlives!”
“Guys, please stop fighting,” Barbara whined, pushing away from the both of them and rubbing her temples, the memories of migraines making their way back into her ghostly head. “We’ve spent more time being testy tonight than having a good time. This was supposed to be fun .”
A heavy silence fell over all three of them. Adam looked rightfully ashamed, and even Beeltejuice’s impenetrable wall of denial and narcissism seemed to slip. It only seemed to slip further and further, the longer it took anyone to say anything.
Because that was the root of the entire problem.
They weren’t having any of the fun he’d promised them.
“Sorry, sweetie,” Adam conceded, pulling away from Beetlejuice and sitting back up. “You’re right. No more fighting. Right, Beetlejuice?”
The demon suppressed a shiver, now lost without the close contact and whatever shred of dignity he had left. It wasn’t a very large shred.
Beetlejuice rolled onto his side, curling around the pillow. His hair shifted to a violet, leaving a heavy lump to settle where Adam and Barbara used to have stomachs.
“Maybe I should just go, ” he muttered.
The growl had left his mouth, leaving it more vulnerable than either Adam or Barbara cared to comprehend. They were back at his sides in an instant, hands over his clenched fists.
“No, c’mon, none of that,” said Adam.
“We can figure this out!” said Barbara, “Please, stay.”
Beeltejuice flinched at the unbridled human emotions shining in their eyes. They tugged at the place his heart would be, if he had one.
“Don’t sugarcoat it, dorks,” the demon huffed, trying to pull away from both of them, but unable to go anyway. Any direction was just more Maitland, curled around him like protective amalgamations of cotton candy and unicorns and whatever it was that made them both so damnedly adorable. “Adam’s right-- it’s obvious who’s the weak link in this chain here.”
“You’re not weak,” Adam said, equal parts fond and frustrated. “And that’s not what sex should be about anyway! We just… what we have here is a failure to communicate. That’s all!”
“Ugh, don’t get all started on the whole talking-it-out bullshit,” visibly repulsed, he shuddered at the very thought of leaving his emotions open and bare.
“You have to face the mortifying ordeal of being known, bedbug,” Barbara said, voice taking on a form of singsong. She even booped his nose.
“Disgusting,” he droned, appearing completely unmoved, despite the lighter tones of lilac and pink shimmering through the deep violet. “Truly a fate worse than death.”
“Not even,” said Adam. “Look, bugsy--”
“Jesus Christ, you’re both breaking out the pet names? Gag me.”
“--We know this isn’t easy for you,” Adam continued, undeterred. “But we have talked about this. Relationships aren’t about being in control of every single thing. It’s about compromise.” He shrugged. “Same can go for sex.”
“Eughhhhhhuhggughughhgh ,” and the pillow shield returned, clapping over his face with a soft fump . “I’d rather just go masturbate in the corner. Maybe call in a stripper from Dante’s to keep you both entertained.”
Adam and Barbara knew he was trying. It was Beetlejuice , after all. The man who, at one point, had no problem kissing them senseless one minute and then exorcizing them the next. He’d come a long way since the sham of a wedding, but clearly he still had a long way to go before opening up completely to the both of them. Being in a steady relationship was already quite a hefty task for the easily-distracted agent of chaos, but they’d hoped that being with the both of them rather than simply one or the other-- or worse, someone who knew how to take advantage of the emotionally stunted man buried deep under years of terrible coping mechanisms --would satiate his seemingly endless hunger for closeness.
If only they could get past him being so… domineering. Being in charge was something he always seemed to jump towards, always grabbing for the spotlight. The center of attention. But as the evening wore on, it only became more and more clear that he wasn’t the best at being the one responsible. For anything. Save for maybe a choreographed musical number. And even then, the theater deposit might as well have been fed to a sandworm.
Maybe it was time to take matters into their own hands. Maitlands 2.0-style.
“We don’t want someone from Dante’s,” said Barbara. She leaned down to try and get a look at him hiding underneath the pillow, eyes gleaming in the faint shadow of the cream-colored fabric. “We want our boyfriend.”
“Yeah, who needs an incubus when we got the sexiest demon from the Netherworld?” Adam tutted while he walked two fingers along Beetlejuice’s exposed arms. He was pleasantly surprised when he noticed the demon flinched, a little ticklish.
“Quit buttering me up,” he groused, voice stuttering in a way that killed any dramatic effect. “The mood’s gone, quit it.”
“We could always just say your name three times,” Barbara crooned, grinning when she saw his eyes widen. Her tone had taken a husky tone, her shoulders giving an excited little wiggle. “Would that get you a little excited?”
“C-c’mon Babs, that’s cheating.”
But he didn’t sound entirely uninterested. He didn’t even complain when Adam slowly slid the pillow from his arms, tossing it over his shoulders with a kind of grace that should’ve been illegal.
“Playing dirty?” said Beetlejuice, scooting back to the far end of the bed as the Maitlands advanced, suddenly towering over the stocky, flustered demon. “G-ganging up on a man when he’s down?”
“Beetlejuice,” said Adam.
“Beetlejuuuuuice,” said Barbara.
“Whoa whoa wait a sec--”
And then with a quick, surreptitious glance between the both of them, they spoke together. “Beeeee--”
“Hold it! H-hold it, slow down a sec, I’m--”
His hand flew to his crotch, and all three pairs of eyes widened at the sight of Beetlejuice with an entirely renewed boner.
“...Well, well, well,” Barbara smiled.
“Honey?” said Adam.
Although physical anatomy was out the window, or more accurately for Adam and Barbara, in the basement, ghosts and demons had urges just like the rest of creation. Lust might’ve been up to blood and sweat and hormones, but love was a very soul-centric part of the deal. It was the metaphysicality of it all. Adam still felt a tingling when he caught Barbara swaying her hips to his old records. Barbara still felt the tug in her belly when she saw Adam wiggle his perky little rear while unclogging the sink. It wasn’t quite the same as when they were newly wed and just a couple of crazy kids searching for closeness and security amidst mountains of college debt and a series of disappointing roommates.
While Beetlejuice sat somewhere between alive and dead, it only made sense that he had to feel one or the other. Lust and love. Or at least some strange amalgamation of the two.
Maybe that was the key to getting all this to work.
“I have an idea,” said Barbara.
Beetlejuice hiked his knees up, suddenly in a rush to hide his shame, eyes darting quickly between the other two.
“Hold on a sec--”
“We tried doing it your way, bedbug,” said Barbara, tilting Beeltejuice’s chin up, her smile widening when she saw goosebumps run down his arms.
Adam was, blessedly, a very smart man, and very good at reading his wife’s mind. He ran his wood-calloused fingers up Beetlejuice’s other arm, mismatched hands sliding under his shirt, sending chills he hadn’t felt in satan-only-knew-how-long running up his back. As if terrified of the wonderful feeling, he tried to pull away, trying to become one with the bedding.
“Maybe we could try going a little more our pace?” Barbara breathed, voice low and tantalizing in the demon’s ear.
“Flipping the script on me? N-not fair--”
Beetlejuice’s felt Adam’s ghostly breath as he pressed a kiss to the top of the outer shell of his ear. His breath hitched, entirely unflattering.
“I’m not hearing a no ,” he drawled, voice hot against his ear.
The gentle rumble in Adam’s voice sent an electric shock through the demon, straight to his surprisingly human-looking netherregions, making him shiver and his knees wobble. His hair betrayed his weak wriggling, pink from the top of his head to his feet. Even his pubic hair changed to a bright, flushed pink. At least the carpets always matched the drapes.
“ Whatever! ” he squeaked-- squeaked-- and cleared his throat, pointedly avoiding eye contact. He couldn’t even look at his lap, furious at his hair and hard on betraying him. “J-just don’t get all touchy-feely on me. I get enough of that during the daytime with you l-losers.”
“Do you really want us to just feel you up while you’re sprawled like that?” said Barbara, her sultry tone betrayed by a giggle at his little display of rebellion.
“Try sitting up at least,” said Adam, smiling wide and winning.
He tried to ignore how they stupid faces was tying his stomach into knots. “ Bossy, bossy, bitchy, bitchy… ”
But, a little more quickly than expected, Beetlejuice sat up, splaying his legs out and flashing his most devilish grin in a vain attempt to retain some dignity. The effect was hardly one he had hoped for-- rather than fluster the partially naked ghostly couple, it only served to encourage them. Barbara’s slender hands trailed across the expanse of his thighs. Adam was leaning forward, a little too closely for comfort. Barbara tickled his chin, and he yelped. So unflattering.
“Now now, just relax,” said Barbara. “This doesn’t have to be the world’s best threesome.”
Beetlejuice stared at her, stunned. Every threesome he had was supposed to be better than the last. Wasn’t that the whole point of having sex at all?
A pair of soft, gentle lips brushed against the mossy stubble of his cheek, silencing his seemingly endless well of backtalk. He stared at Barbara as she pulled back and ran a small, slender hand to the train of his shirt, lifting it over his head and tossing it aside with an ease too natural to be practiced. He felt his toes curl, breathing out in a wheeze.
“You just tell us what feels good and what doesn’t, huh?” said Adam.
The fuschia color of his hair slowly melted to a seafoam, then an earthy green as hands traveled across his ethereal body, the color rolling over him like a moonbeam through the windowpane. The sheer of Barbara’s nightgown shimmered silver in the fairylights that dappled across the attic rafters, the folds of the gown leaving nothing to the imagination. She made sure not to keep him waiting, drawing him close and kissing along his collarbone while she straddled a thigh. Adam, clad in nothing but his black-framed glasses and wedding ring, pressed chaste, soft pecks along the back of his hairline, hair faintly smelling of moss and skin giving with the soft plush of fat that covered his entire, well, everything. Just as Adam’s lips caressed a rather sensitive space between the shell of his ear and his jaw, his own lips met with Barbara’s pastel pink pout in a slow, drawn-out movement, pulling an utterly mortifying sound from Beetlejuice, high and from far within the back of his throat.
When did the two of them suddenly get so good at this? And why hadn’t anyone told him that he could feel this good during makeouts???
“That feel good?” Barbara breathed into his mouth
“N-not bad-- I-- mm-- y-eah,” he whined. Fuck, now he was whining .
“What next?” said Adam.
Beetlejuice pulled a double-take so fast, his head spun a full 360 degrees. Give or take.
“Y-you’re asking me?? I thought you two wanted to take the lead!”
“You get a say in it too,” Barbara breathed, nodding for him to move it along. “It goes both ways, bedbug!”
“Whuh, I--” he gulped, pushing his matted hair back with shaky fingers. “F-fuck, I dunno-- k-keep doing it?”
“Doing what?” Adam huffed, rubbing circles on the demon’s back to help keep the three of them in the moment. “Kissing? Rubbing? You want us both to kiss you?”
“Baby, we need specifics. We can’t read your mind,” said Barbara.
Well great, now he was hard, lost, and blushing like crazy. This was all so strange, so new-- God he was so out of his depth. “I-I don’t know! Just-- just don’t stop touching me! ”
Adam and Barbara both lit up in a way that made the stars look dull, and their smiles went straight to Beetlejuice’s crotch.
“There you go,” Barbara kisses his cheek. Finally, he was getting it. “That’s good!
“That’s what we like to hear. Just keep telling us what makes you feel good, bugsy.”
Oh, that was different .
“Wh-wait hang on--” He wanted to touch them back. To hold them. Worship them. Do something to counteract the fire they lit inside him. “I’m supposed to be doing shit too--mmf!
But Barbara caught his words in another kiss, her hands exploring more of him: his chest, his legs, his generous hips, his hanging belly, his sides,, his shoulders, his neck, and settling on his round, stubbled cheeks, her gentle touch smoothing out his hard edges and leaving him shuddering harder than ever. All remaining brain functions went out the window when her fingers raked through his matted mass of hair. Everywhere she touched felt like it’d caught fire in a way that felt way too pleasant to burn. He moaned into the kiss, a longing, yearning, petrified sound.
“You are doing just fine. Just let us know when we hit a good rhythm,” she purred.
“Just give us directions, we’ll fall into step,” Adam assured.
“K-kay…” His panic-seized brain tried to grab at something, anything that would keep the Maitlands touching him as much as possible. And then it hit him. “Can-- can I be in the middle?
It was a pitiful thing to ask for. Almost like pleading. And it made him feel so incredibly stupid, like a newly dead, fresh off the plague wagon and on the long road to oblivion. And Adam and Barbara were happy to oblige. Adam slid all-too-smoothly behind him, thin arms linking under his thicker, softer ones, while Babs settled all-too-comfortable between his thighs, kneading her fingers against them. He sat rigid between them, the heat from their touch seeping through him and pooling like magma in his belly. He could feel the bud of Adam’s erection against the small of his back, and from the look on Barbara’s face, she didn’t seem all that far behind. Frankly, Beetlejuice was shocked he hadn’t cum already.
“And now?” said Adam.
The huskiness of Adam’s voice was going to drive him crazy. As if he weren’t certifiably insane already.
“K-kisses?” he begged, and hated it. “Anywhere’s good.”
He felt Adam’s lips pepper across his neck and shoulders, eyelids fluttering shut as the pulses of contact sent shivers through him. Barbara breathlessly copied his movements, kissing between his neck and collarbone. He jumped when he felt his nip at the soft place between his neck and double-chin, but the goosebumps that came when she sucked on the purpling hickey were worth it. So very, very worth it.
“Good, good,” Adam breathed against his back, voice crackling with the energy in the air. Like static. “And now?
Oh god , oh god he was squirming now. The ghost with the most, master of all macabre ceremonies, the Guide to the Goddamn Other Side, was squirming with pleasure between two newly-deads and they hadn’t even stuck anything into any orifices yet. He bit back another pathetic white, feeling as though his head was too far away from his body to respond. Like he was floating. Hell, maybe he was, they were all ghosts after all.
“You showered for us, right?” Barbara crooned, pulling him back to the moment with her hands grabbing his love handles, giving them a pinch. “Mmm, you feel so nice without all that muck on you.”
“Y-yeah, I-- eheh.” Oh god he couldn’t even talk anymore. He was choking on all the fireworks going off in his chest.
“You’re doing good. You’re doing so good, bugsy,” Adam growled, making Beetlejuice gasp.
“There, now-- what do you want next?” said Adam, mouth against the back of his head.
“I-- ahh, fuck-- I can’t-- ”
No no no no no, it was too much. It was so good, but it was all just too much of a good thing. How come he never felt like this before? Why was it all so-- so wonderful? Was it him? Why was he thinking so hard? How could he get this to last? His head was spinning without any of his usual parlor tricks, leaving him feeling dizzy and sick, like he was going to explode.
“Beetlejuice, what’s wro--?”
“Fuck-- ” His voice broke and he clapped both hands over his eyes to stop them from showing any more than they already had. He couldn’t take any more of this. “ I dunno!! I-I don’t KNOW what to do from here! I don’t. I-I didn’t. I-I never. I. Hhn. ”
It took every ounce of dignity he had left not to cry out. His face felt so hot, he was almost certain his head was about to catch fire. His body ached in so many ways, and while none of them were painful, it hurt too much to think about it too hard. He was going to vomit. Or maybe fly straight through the ceiling, up into the stratosphere, and never come back down. He didn’t move his hands, not until he felt them be gently guided into Barbara’s grasp, eyes burning and squeezed shut. He didn’t open them until he felt her squeeze his hands.
Her face was blurry until it wasn’t, and then her hands were touching his too-hot face again. Adam had pulled himself flush against his back, his hands rubbing gentle circles against his shoulders. The moment felt all too open and all too honest for him to take. He would have broken eye contact with Barbara, if not for her hands cupping his face.
“Do you want us to stop?”
Her voice was so gentle, and yet the words cut through him like a knife.
No one had ever asked him these questions before. No one had ever touched him like this before. No one had ever… cared. Not like this. Not till now. He didn’t want it to stop, not for a moment, but. But he--
“I-I don’t,” his voice broke in a way that sounded wrong, his vision blurring again. The hell was that all about? “I want-- wanna keep touching--”
And then their arms wrapped around him, and the world made sense. For the first time in so many centuries, it made sense.
“Don’t stop,” he begged. “Don’t, don’t let go.”
“We won’t,” Adam squeezed, voice shaky but strong.
Beetlejuice buried his face against Barbara’s neck, grinding his teeth and willing time to, just this once, not go too fast.
The Maitlands were relaxed against him, leaving him sandwiched between then in a way that felt so right that it hurt . Like he was some puzzle piece from an entirely different box, and yet he fit into the picture anyway.
It had never occurred to him, in all his centuries roaming the various planes of existence and nonexistence, that sex could be like this . It was always just him, swimming aimlessly through the sea of souls surrounding him, existing on the fridges. Invisible and desperate. Practically digging at the bottom of the sexual barrell. He talked up a big game with all his celebrity make outs, but between all the party jokes about Charles Dickens taking a dicking and Frued being the biggest goddamn hypocrite in existence, it was just one night stands with strangers, too bored or uncaring to put any effort into it. He was always forced to take the reigns, to be the one in charge, to force his way to the wanton crest of pleasure if it killed him (bah dum tss). He might as well have been fucking the lifeless corpse that was left behind, rather than the detatched, unfeeling soul.
Those times never made him feel like this. No one had ever asked him these questions. No one had even so much as lifted a finger, leaving him to do all the hard work to push past the finish line. All his life he’d been forced to settle on not-quite-hell, he’d never realized heaven sound feel so lovely.
This feeling. This heat-- no, this warmth-- this was what he’d been missing. What he’d never understood. And now he did. Now he only wished he’d understood it more.
Realizing he hadn’t said anything for the past five minutes, outside of some disgusting, choking sounds, Beetlejuice forced his head free, startling the other two with the sudden movement, but not prompting either of them to release him from the embrace.
“Fuck, sorry,” he croaked. “D-dunno what the hell that was.”
“It’s okay,” Barbara shushed, brushing something wet from beneath his eyes. “Adam cried the first time we made love, too.”
“What? ” Beetlejuice balked.
“Don’t tell him that!!” Adam cried, almost simultaneously. “God, I-I ok yeah I did cry a little bit, but i-it was an emotional time for me! You know you were my first, honey.”
“Why’m I not surprised?” Beetlejuice droned.
There was a beat of silence, followed by a slow wave of laughter, rising from all of them. First, Barbara’s twinkling giggles, then Adam’s self-deprecating chuckles, and finally all capped off by Beetlejuice’s uproarious cackles, though not nearly as loud and raucous as usual. There wasn’t enough room in the attic for his usual theatrics. Or maybe he’d just wrung himself out with the wave of new feelings that’d all washed over him. So much for his devil-may-care persona.
“You feeling any better?” Adam asked, arms still wrapped around him.
“Yeah. I guess. Hhhuh. Crying feels like shit,” he wheezed, rubbing self consciously at his face, pretending not to be too bothered by it. “Ugh. Why the fuck do mortals do it so much?”
“We don’t, really. But it helps us feel better if things get to be overwhelming,” Barbara assured, gently squeezing his bare arms. “Have you never… cried before?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged, feeling more naked than ever. “Don’t remember.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Adam ventured, looking both hopeful and apprehensive at the concept. Walking about Beetlejuice’s volumes upon volumes of issues either resulted in outbursts, or horrific stories about his childhood, veiled under an unnerving sheen of dark humor.
“Nah. Not--” he shrugged again. “--Not now. Can’t we go back to the whole touching thing? That was way better.”
“You really liked it, huh?” Barbara giggled, relieved, touching their foreheads together. “We did good?”
“Don’t get a big head about it, babe,” he grumbled, pink hair betraying him. “You guys win this round ok? You win. Just get on with it before I change my mind.”
“You sure you’re ok to just jump right back into it?” said Adam, not entirely convinced. “You won’t get overwhelmed again?”
“I’ll be fine, grandma,” Beetljuice jeered, elbowing him with not nearly enough force to hurt. “Just… don’t ask me so many questions? I’m in it for a high, not a quiz show.”
Adam and Barbara shared a look… and smiled in a way that was practically angelic.
“So you trust us then?”
Beetlejuice shrugged, pink from head to toe. “‘C-course I fucking do.”
“Then do you mind if we take things a little more--”
“Do whatever in th fuck you want, ok?!” He practically wailed, fed up with all the foreplay and feelings. “I trust you! I trust you with every fiber of my weird fucking existence! I trust you to get to the good shit and make me feel like all of the shitty things in the world are worth suffering through just for five fucking seconds with you!”
Now it was Barbara and Adam’s turn to blush.
“Oh,” Adam blurted, quite intelligently.
“Yeah,” Beetlejuice ground out, staring at his lap.
“G-gosh,” Barbara squeaked.
“Mhmm… C-can you just… keep calling me good, though?”
Oh god, if he weren’t dead, he was absolutely certain he was doomed to die right then and there.
“That felt really fucking amazing.”
“Of course we can.” Adam’s hands languidly felt along his shoulders and sides, the closeness making his hair stand on end. “You were doing so well earlier, bugsy.”
Barbara kissed his temples, then his forehead, then his nose. “You’re such a good boy.”
Holy fuck .
“Hhh-- not at the same time--! F-fuck-- just-- while you do your thing. M’not gonna last long if you both hit me with it at the same time.”
They laughed, soft and relaxed and completely flush against him. Adam’s glasses brushing against his scalp, his nose pressed to the nape of his neck. Barbara was holding his face once more, eyes closed and face so fond it was disgusting. It all jostled a mortified laugh out of him in turn.
And that was when the real fun began.
Lips pressed to Beetlejuice’s hair, Adam began to slowly, tenderly grind against the small of his back. Digging through their pile of nearly forgotten sex toys, Adam found a tube of relatively non-solidified lube and lathered a small amount onto one hand. He unhooked an arm and trailed it up and down the demon’s back, making the middle man’s breath hitch, until his fingers reached their destination and began to finger him in easy strides.
“Starting with just one finger…” Adam breathed, nuzzling him. “That feel okay?”
Beej nodded, voice caught for only a second. “Oh.. oh fuck yes… hhh fffuck…”
Barbara-- there wasn’t a better word for it-- sashayed her hips in her crouched position, stripping her entirely unnecessary nightgown with the confidence of the sauciest stipper, finally leaving them all bare-ass naked in the warmly lit attic. It was adorable. It was hilarious. It was unbelievably sexy.
And as if that weren’t enough, she had to go and use that endlessly adorable mouth of her to kiss the smile right off his face. If the Netherworld could see him now. He let his eyelids drift shut like the lovesick fool he was… until he heard the whirring of a vibrator. But she hadn’t stopped kissing him. Drunk on the fingering and the frenching, he allowed himself to crack an eye open, just in time to watch her grab the magic bullet from the far end of the bad… and run it along the rock-hard lift of his erection. He practically squealed against her mouth, knees hiking up and head jerking back, only held at bay by Adam’s embrace.
“H-holy SHIT! ”
Barbara jumped, surprised. “How’s that feel, bedbug? Too much??”
“N-no-- n--nnnnnnnnmmmmhhh-- please--”
Beetlejuice frantically reached to hold onto something, every inch of him shuddering with the vibrations. Barbara guided his fumbling hands to her shoulders, almost instantly regretting with his death-blackened fingers gripped onto her with surprising strength. “ Please don’t stop oh my god don’t stop don’t you fucking stop! ”
“Does this all feel ok?” Adam huffed.
“Hhhmmm--ffff--y-yeehesss--!! HHhhho-oh my god--”
He could feel it. It was so close. He was so close, he was practically overflowing. He felt like he was almost glowing from the pressure building, building, building within him, between Adam seeking the elusive sweet spot on one end, and Barbara rattling his chain on the other. But despite their efforts, he just couldn’t make it to the peak. It was unbearably, tantalizingly close and yet so very, very far. The attic was awash in a bright green glow.
“God oh-- hh--oh fuck--” Beetlejuice whined.
Barbara repositioned his hands to get a better hold, letting him rest his chin on her shoulder with his soft arms hooked around her neck. “That’s right, you got it. Just roll with it, bedbug. That’s the rhythm--”
“You feel so good, you’re being so good for us--”
Their lips connected with his skin in places that were too sensitive to be anything but sinful. He was overcharged, shaking from the strain, too hot, too much, and still not enough. After what felt like another eternity of digging, Adam’s fingers finally hit the fabled sweet spot, and he choked on a shuddering moan, coursing through him like a bolt of lighting.
“Are you ok?” said Adam.
Beetlejuice couldn’t even form words anymore. He just nodded.
Oh fuck, this was what Adam had meant by being more romantic. Dammit, why did no one tell him how sexy consent was? Choking back a sob, he nodded, only to moan out the world’s worst, most yearning whimper when he felt the man’s erection enter him. They had him whimpering now. He was never going to hear the end of it. And yet. He did not care.
“Oh, god, ohhhh, Beetlejuice,” Adam moaned, sounding almost as demonic as him. “ You feel so good . Di-did I hurt you?”
He shook his head, feeling like his teeth were floating from all the sensations. At some point, the three of them had begun rocking together, Beetlejuice caught up and helpless in their tune-less dance. Adam inside him, Barbara holding him at her mercy, no longer crouching but towering over him on her knees, the vibrator now pressed between her own folds and his slick shaft, his face level with the soft give of her breasts.
They were sweaty and gross and flushed, their ghostly pallor practically pink compared to his chalk white skin. Their sturdy, present warmth dug into him to the very core of his sad, sick little existence and tugged at the very heart of him, the heart he wasn’t supposed to have. Their faces were raw, pinched in rising pleasure, finally catching up to the raw, unbridled feeling that was now overflowing from his battered, bruised soul, and--
“Nnhh that’s amazing--!” Barbara mewled, relieved to finally reach the climax of their evening. “You’re doing so good, bedbu--huuuh--hug!”
Adam moaned with a glee that was so sexy it was disgusting. “You feel good, you feel so fucking good. You do--hhhh--oing ok?”
“Yes--!! Yeah--!! I-- oh my GOD i love--”
Beetlejuice gasped. The dam was about to burst.
“I lo--hhh--ove you g-guys--hhh---FUCK--!!! ”
And it was then, in what could only be described in the most vanilla threesome he’d ever been a part of, that Beeltejuice’s vision went white, and he finally orgasmed.
He didn’t remember warning Barbara about it, but she seemed to expect it, ready for it, almost seemed more turned on by it. At least he’d gotten most of his mess on his own front and not on her. The world seemed to slow down as he came down from the high, a ringing in his ears making it hard to focus on anything by the waves washing out, the heat finally calming from its flare, and leaving him a shaking, sweaty, whimpering mess.
He felt Adam twitch, moan, pull out, and moan louder as finished behind him. He heard the crinkling of tissues. He tried to fumble to hold onto both of them, but it was suddenly very hard to move. He couldn’t even use his demonic powers to make it any easier. There was a pounding in his ears that drowned out the sound of the vibrator, of the Barbara’s song-bird-like moans.
Moments passed in a daze. He was almost positive he’d blacked out, till he felt a warm, damp tissue run across his face. He was lying on his back now, somehow having been moved, Adam and Barbara’s concerned faces flanking him on his right and left, hovering worriedly over him. He was gasping for breath, an entirely useless effort. He was dead, after all.
And yet, he never felt more alive.
All Beetlejuice could say was: “ Jesus. Fucking. Christ. ”
They laughed, and huddled close, practically falling on top of him. Though not even close to admitting it out loud, he was more than happy to pull them close and cuddle. Cuddling was another thing he’d heard mortals were fond of, and this one he couldn’t disparage in the slightest.
Adam nuzzled his cheek, practically squishing him with his heavy arms tangling with Beetlejuice’s. “I take it you liked it?”
The demon gawked, putty in his arms and only a little angry about it. “What in the fuck-- what else could it mean??? Of course I liked it-- ow. Owww.”
Turning was a bad idea. Oh. Ow. Every inch of him was sore. Or felt like lead. God, who knew sex could be such a workout when you weren’t orchestrating the damn party. He was probably going to be sore all day tomorrow too. He tried to use his demonic persuasion to lessen the dull throb and fatigue, but all he was rewarded with was a sputter of sparks from his fingertips, and a jolt of pain in his back. Nope, he was down for the count. Done. He was absolutely spent. Better to cancel any appointments he wasn’t planning on attending anyway for the next month.
“Oof,” he whined, sinking into the comforting feeling of Barbara’s cheek pressed to his ear. “I’m beat.”
“Not so bad for a pair of newly deads, hmm?” she hummed into his ear. Ooh. That felt nice too. He could get used to cuddling.
“What’d I say about getting a big head?” he groused, voice cracking more from sleepiness than annoyance. He tried not to smile when she kissed the side of his nose.
Adam giggled, nuzzling his neck, practically cradling him and Barbara in his sturdy, sinewy arms. “Too late! That was the most fun I’ve had since we found out we could use our ghost powers to vacuum the ceiling.”
Beetlejuice weakly thumped a half-curled fist against Adam’s bare chest, making them both break out into fits of giggling.
“You. Are. the absolute. WORST,” he croaked.
“Says the guy who loves us,” Barbara practically sang.
Oh fuck .
“I didn’t say that,” he whimpered.
“Yes, you did!” Adam cheered.
Barbara squished his cheeks, flushing pinker than ever before. “You said you looooooove us! It was so cuuuuute.”
That was it then. This was the end.
He was a ruined demon. Forever. There was absolutely no way to recover from an atrocity like that. Gone were the days of him galavanting the countryside, spreading chaos and discontent with every waking moment. No more spreading rumors to the catholic church that paltry parlor tricks, like holy water and crucifixes, actually worked against demons. No more pulling pranks on the mailman or leaving stink bombs in random lockers at Lydia’s school.
He was done. Sunk. Defeated. Domesticated.
“You’ve ruined me! ” he despaired, burying his face in Barbara’s soft chest. “ I’m a shadow of my former self! A SHAM! ”
“Aww,” she cooed, mockingly patting his bright green mop of hair. “There there, it’s not so bad being in a healthy, normal relationship.”
“I don’t wanna be normaaaaaaal,” he mourned, voice muffled against her boobs.
“You don’t have to be too normal,” Adam assured, more sympathetic than his wife. “But just so you know, we love you too.”
There was an extended pause. Barbara and Adam could practically hear the gears cranking away, processing thoughts in his otherwise vacant skull. He peaked a bruised eye out, looking about as pathetic as he no doubt felt.
“For real?” he muttered.
“Yup,” said Adam, smiling so genuinely and sunnily that it put the brightest blue sky to shame.
“Duh,” Barbara giggled, her voice so bubbly that it could’ve been bottled and used for the most luxurious bath.
“There’s no shame in being a little vanilla, bugsy,” said Adam, huddling close and sighing against him. “Besides, you have more nights like these to look forward to, if you decide to stick around.”
“And who knows,” said Barbara, yawning as she nestled against the pillows, Beetlejuice still pressed to her chest. “We might even get to spend eternity together like this. If you like.”
As the Maitlands settled in for the night, soothed to sleep by the sound of each other’s entirely useless breathing-- god, they even slept in tandem --Beetlejuice simply stared up at the ceiling, eyes glazing over as the concept of eternity with a steady, happy relationship settling over him.
Ahead of him stretched a future of knitting homemade sweaters, packed lunches, lace doilies, and other such domestic, gut-churning depravities. The most middle-class, suburban, white, boring eternity ever hatched by the cruelest, yet kindest of minds. All because he had fallen desperately, madly, stupidly in love with a pair of newly-deads who couldn’t scare their way out of a cardboard box.
To his left, Adam let out a snore that could wake the dead, and to his right, Barbara drooled, muttering about bananas and shrimp in her sleep. The illusion of perfection effectively shattered.
And there, wrapped up in their warm, comforting embrace, surrounded by so many boring possibilities and perfectly imperfect lovers, Beetlejuice finally allowed himself to smile. His first genuine smile in centuries. And with that thought, he drifted off to a comforting, warm sleep.