Oberon Rising

After five minutes of searching the cramped, three room shack, James decided that he would be better off removing the couch cushions and making a little bed on the floor. Sure they were old, moldy and the ugliest shade of brown in existence, but the couch they were once attached to was even worse off. Now for some clothes. Other than a moth-eaten blanket, there really wasn't anything all that useful. Oh well, it would have to do.

"You made it." James sharply turned his head to the voice cooing behind him. The witch girl was snoring from deep sleep and when he thought about it the voice was much lower and tinged with amused yet mature seductiveness. The voice giggled as a ghostly hand caressed his right cheek.

"What's going on here?" Again, there was only the dull emptiness of the shack when he turned around.

"Nothing." It almost sang like a naughty child teasing a dog with a bone only to pull it away when it got too close. "I just wanted to see Lord Oberon's champion for myself." The ghost hand transformed into a frigid, invisible body, wrapping itself from behind James. Icey fingers ran across his nipples as what he hoped was a tongue caressed the inside of his ear. For something he couldn't see, it was working wonders; both uncomfortable and arousing. "Responsive aren't we? That's what I enjoy about you mortals." James' mind was too busy swimming against a raging hurricane of emotions to desire fighting back. He wondered how long had it been since someone touched him like that? Even the chaste kisses Daisy had given him when they first met weren't this good. And for some reason he didn't even care that he was betraying her.

Icy hands snaked down to his penis, squeezing it just enough to coax the blood in his body to retreat into it. "More..." James grunted.

The figure complied with a confident smirk. He could feel his willpower rapidly draining away with each stroke and tiny, nearly soundless moans escapeing his lips as he allowed his now useless legs to collapse on the hardwood floor. One of her ghost hands lightly fondled his balls like a kitten with a new toy, giggling at how this once legendary man was panting like a sex-starved whore. "That's my little warrior."

The last rational parts of his mind screamed at the top of their lungs to remind him of Daisy and the civilized man he once was, but it was just a whisper against the screams of passion ragging inside him; waking him to something that he never realized. The mask known as Jay Gatsby was off, leaving both his body and emmotions exposed to this uninhibbed sexual being inside him. And when he finally came, he could swear that part of himself broke into hysterics before fading into nothingness. "That was fun." The voice mused. "Maybe Lord Oberon will let me do it again."

"Who is..." Just like that "she" vanished into thin air, leaving a spotless white and gold- trimmed priest-like uniform behind her. Cleaning himself off with the moth-eaten blanket, reality finally hit him as he put his new clothes on. "What have I done?"

Author's Note: Don't worry, I have an explanation as to why James' reviver could sleep through this in the next chapter. It's been a while since I wrote a sex scene so I hope I did a good job.