redamancy ❣︎ ghost fics & drabbles

the moon doesn't mind - phantom, copia x cumulus

phantom, copia x cumulus

smut

!! voyeurism, vaginal and oral sex, masturbation

Phantom can't sleep and he doesn't know why. He's been tired all day, his pillow is cool on both sides, his room isn't too hot, his sheet is still tucked at the foot of his bed–everything is right, yet he still can't sleep.

The clock on his nightstand says it's 2:13am and glows a faint blue until it blends into the moonlight that leaks through his blinds that he'd left open. It's a beautiful night. One with little to no clouds in the sky, a dome full of stars, and the sounds of crickets and frogs hiding in the distance on the edge of the lake. He loves nights like these. A slight chill in the air. A warm bed. It's perfect, and yet he can't fall asleep.

The moon seems to call for him as he stares at the ceiling and counts the knots in the beams. It washes over the floor of his room, sinks into the carpet and stops in an abrupt line feet away from the edge of his bed. An ever-distorting rhombus. It's been inching across his floor with every passing hour, and Phantom thinks that if he watches long enough it'll start crawling up the walls. A sudden gust of wind presses its palms against the panes and creaks as it tries to get in. The shadow of a branch dances in the shadow. The sudden noise makes the ghoul jump from where he lies, unexpecting the sudden cut in the silence, but it's enough to distract him for a moment. He watches the branch wave outside, hidden somewhere just out of sight, and his feet hit the floor before his brain fully catches up with him.

He wobbles on tired muscles as he shuffles towards the window, his fingers finding the edge of the sill and working open the clasps so he can shove the glass up. It slides with a dull, woody sound and the ghoul is hit in the face with a chilly gust of wind. It smells like the beginning of autumn. Sounds like the end of summer. Crickets and frogs sing from their places at the edge of the lake, quiet and sad now that the chill is creeping in. He'll miss them when they decide to sleep. The moon takes his breath away. He sees the reflection over the lake before he spies the thing in the sky–bright, golden, and massive, framed by a thousand twinkling stars and their constellations. He stands there for a while, watching and taking in the beauty of the dead of night, and he's about to retreat back to the warmth of his bed when a shuffle of movement catches his eye from the papal wing. It's difficult to tell exactly what it is he's seeing through his Papa's bedroom window. He glances back at his clock, 2:31 am, a peculiar hour for his papa to be awake. A quick glance further down the wing confirms that his office is dark. Strange. What in the world is Copia up to so late?

The moon and the stars become an afterthought when a head emerges from some unseen corner of the room, and Phantom watches in curiosity-turned-bewilderment as a very naked Copia stands before his bed and takes his dick into his hand, giving himself a few slow strokes illuminated by warm, golden lamp light. The way Phantom's own dick twitches almost immediately is hard to miss. He feels his face flush red hot with blood and his feet begging him to close the window and go back to bed. Spying on his Papa like this feels so wrong. These are things he shouldn't see, especially by accident. But he can't tear his feet from where they've become rooted to the floorboards, can't bring himself to look away. He's always been a bit of a voyeur and the sight of his Papa stroking his cock only lights a dangerous fire in his belly that he only wants so desperately to kindle. He's about to let his right hand drop to the front of his sleep pants when a curly mess of white hair appears from nowhere and makes themself comfy atop that messy bed of velvet and satin throws, and it's his jaw that drops instead.

Cumulus lounges equally as bare, rests comfortably on her side with her head perched in her palm. She looks gorgeous as always, her curves and her full body on perfect display, and he so desperately wants to be in Copia's place, even more so when he brings a knee up to crawl on the bed and kneel before her. A cold gust of wind blows in off of the lake and cradles his face, turns his mouth dry. He licks at his lips and leans further out the window in an attempt to get a better look.