Casper

Casper

Casper hummed.

His voice started out embarrassingly horrendous for a singer of his calibre. It cracked, rough from a raw throat and fitful sleep. Sleep that had been assaulted by one too many sexual dreams, each one much more lustful than the next.

He flushed, wincing at the pitchy squeaks that escaped his lips. Casper cleared his throat, shaking his head hoping to force those thoughts out of his mind and he started again.

His voice mellowed, softening into the crisp velvety lilt he was famous for. It was a sound that ran together with the beat like milk and honey. They flowed, speeding and moving in the air. The dance of varying acoustic waves transmitting to his brain.

Then the vibrations from the bass stopped an awkward opening that left too much space for his creative mind to accept. It was an awkward silence, a pit hole of sound which disgusted him.

Something was missing.

A slide of his fingers over the board and the pitch of the supporting melody ran up a key. A turn of the digital knobs and the tempo changed. Another swipe over the touch panel and the beat flowed faster than the sound of the rain on the windowpane.

The droplets pattering against the glass, like hundreds of needles on paper. The beat replayed once again, and he closed his eyes, leaning back against his chair.

He could see it.

The slant of sunlight cutting across the air, the brush of plastic strips on his skin. The chill of cold, crisp air on his skin, forcing goose bumps over his flesh.

His mind expected warmth. That sweet bubbling yellow that he wanted to capture in his music. The bright speck of colour in the sea of dark grey. But what Casper could see was an emptiness that stood out, stark in the beauty of his mental environment. The awkward hollow void.

Her.

Yet again he couldn't capture her presence.

Casper sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He slammed the pen he had been twisting in his hands on the desk. No, no, no. He tapped the metal nib on the paper, scribbling out another line from his list.

Not this instrument, his mind supplied. Perhaps, something else. Not pitchy strings, nor the pipes. He furrowed his brows. Should he try something more authentic? A traditional East Asian instrument perhaps? Maybe something more organic?

The beat was missing something and at the moment Casper wasn't sure what it needed. He stretched, lacing his fingers together and letting the knots in his body crack, expelling the pockets of air within his joints.

He picked up the earring that laid on the table, raising the cheap crystal into the light. The reflection was clumsy, the plastic a little murky with scratches. Still, a soft smile stretched across his lips and his fingers rubbed against the cool plastic again and again.

A subconscious action that he did far too many times each day.

He shifted in his seat and his body thrummed, darts of pleasure jolting through him as his cock brushed against the skin of his thighs. The action was oddly pleasurable, and it sent another jerk of heat through his belly.

Fuck. Casper cursed, pulling his legs apart abruptly to manspread in his chair, feeling a rush of heat blossom on his cheeks.

His senses were humming with oversensitivity, his body filled with inner heat from the extremely realistic dream he had that morning. No amount of cold water could cool him down after that dream. His thoughts drifted, somehow capable of remembering the usually elusive memories of his dreams.

It had started out as an innocent scene. Him in that art museum, browsing the works. Him approaching his blue haven. He had parted those plastic strips to the sight of her naked and spread, covered in strips of light from the overhead window. She had been wet, dripping, and needy. Her pussy glistening with droplets of her juices, the liquid shimmery from the touch of the sun.

Casper flushed, swallowing as his mouth dried at the memory. The dream re-enacted the accident, only this time she was completely and utterly naked. Her core pressed against his hardening cock, sliding over his shaft and drenching him with her cream as she struggled and tried to untangle their earrings.

It had been awfully realistic, crazily sexual and perverted.

Casper had woken up, panting hard as he stared, wide-eyed and staring at the cum stain that spread across the blue of his wall. The splatter was too much and too far to be normal. He had never regretted sleeping naked until today.

The only silver lining to his situation was that Casper slept alone and could quickly hide the crime scene with a lock of his bedroom door. He had stumbled to his personal toilet with semen dripping down his legs, feeling more shame than the time he'd accidentally peed his bed from a toilet dream.

The shame hadn't been enough to stop him from jerking another one out in the toilet, fantasising with the dream. He came three times that morning, all over the tiles in the shower and still his cock remained yearning for another go.

Casper pressed a hand to his warming cheeks, his eyes flickering to the said wall beside him. It had taken him a while to get out of the toilet. Then he had scrubbed his wall with every kind of disinfectant he could find in their home and went straight to work on his new song.

He'd hoped that maybe he could transfer his lust for her into song-making, but even that wasn't working. Casper rubbed the back of his neck, turning his computer off.

Lust made sense.

He pressed his lips together, thinking back to his research. Soulmates who had been apart for too long were usually inflicted by increasingly mad desire for one another. It was just another biological addition to ensure that their species would reproduce with the best genetics.

Lust was simple to understand and for his less than educated ancestors, lust had ensured that soulmates stuck together. That no matter the circumstance, they would find each other.

For someone like him who had waited this long, it was inevitable that his sexual drive would be much higher. Casper got out of his seat, making his way out of the room. In simple terms, his soul was on a rampage having seen and touched her.

It was desperate for him to go to her and complete their bond. It wanted to keep them together, and the result was this deep-seated longing and lust for his soulmate's body and touch. A longing that was amplified by the time he had waited, unknowing of her existence.

Lust confirmed that she was his soulmate.

In some weird twisted logic, Casper enjoyed this torture because to him it was a physical reminder that she was his. That his soulmate existed. That he was not meant for a life of loneliness. That he could be like the rest of the soulmate population. That he could eventually sink into the warmth of her pussy—

He paused mid-thought, nibbling on his lips. Maybe, it was time for a break, a cup of coffee perhaps to jolt his mind out of its lustful haze. Enough time for him to be a decent human being who didn't have a penis for a brain.

He strode to the kitchen, happy to smell the distinct aroma of brewing coffee. He could make his own but honestly, Casper was lazy like that. He snorted, shaking his head. He would gladly wait all morning in his bedroom just so he could steal someone else's brew later in the day. He passed by Oliver and MinJae's room, noting the open door.

"What do you mean I can't see her?"

Casper's eyes widened, freezing in place at the sound.

Oliver's voice was usually bright, sunny and playful. Sometimes it could sound a little stupid nasal when he was being childish and trying to annoy the hell out of them, sometimes it took on a bored drone. But this time his voice was filled with his thick raging emotions.

It trembled, twisting and dipping into an almost vicious snarl. The sound had a quality that reminded Casper of the angrier members of their team. People like Ezra or even Sieon when they got absolutely fucking pissed.

This wasn't a tone that Oliver used daily. Hell, he'd never spoken to any of them like this and it made Casper more than just concerned. He was fucking worried. Casper stopped at the door mid-step, worry bubbling within him as he peeked into the room.

Their rooms reflected their personalities. For the two that lived here, bright colours, adorable furniture and quirky designs were their thing. Oliver and MinJae enjoyed fluffy, cute and almost effeminate items.

Casper spotted Oliver pacing about at his side of the room, spinning back and forth at the head of his bed. The man sighed, running his hands through his dyed locks to scratch viciously at the back of his neck before stopping to roll his eyes.

He threw his phone on his bed, tossing the thing with more force than normal. The muscles on his arms rippled from the effort as he glared at the screen, violently slamming his thumb on the speaker button. Just more signs of his agitation and stress.

Oliver looked ready to sock someone in the mouth with his fist. Probably pound them into the ground with a body slam. Casper winced, feeling bad for whoever was at the other end of the speaker.

Oliver growled, flopping onto his bed, tapping his foot on the floor. "Look, what I want to do with her is my own damn fucking business okay?" The anger in Oliver's voice was thick, and he filled each word with scathing loathe, a deep raspy growl that he'd only ever used in his raps.

Casper grimaced, his lips pressed into a thin line. Oliver rarely got that angry. Heck, he's only seen him this angry once in his life from the time when a hater had blatantly criticized MinJae's tummy at a fan meet.

"I know you just want to fuck her yourself and that's fine, but I told you already it's fair game for now—"

"You don't understand!" The voice from the speaker was familiar even in its bad quality, the sound filled with echoes and the effects of bad reception. Casper leaned against the frame of the door, his brows furrowed as he tried to register the familiarity. "This is not about me."