A/N : The result of writers block and a sudden desire to be in Maine during a thunderstorm provoked this creation. I decided to go cartoonverse with it mostly because I feel like Beelejuice is more on the emotional side. He's still crude and gross but there's more of a softness about him I guess which…is totally understandable given that the cartoon was made for kids. Can't have Beej runnin' around, grabbing himself and yelling out "Nice fuckin' model" in a cartoon, now can we. That being said…this is pure and utter smutty fluff guys. If it's not your taste then…I'd suggest backing away now because the romantic in me took over. I've been dealing with writers block for nearly two months (which is obvious in my lack of an update on Haunting Temptation) and I sat down and within two hours…had half of this written without even thinking about what I was doing. So if your teeth rot out…in advance, I'm sorry :D

This was also written to a combination of ocean wave sounds, thunderstorm sounds, Greame Revell's Bells, Books and Candles then towards the end when things get a lil' on the crazy side I switched over to Estasi Dell Anima, the final score from Zombie Land. Yeah..it had to be like that. Lol. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Beetlejuice and make no profit from the writing of this fic.


Maine was gray. It was gray and on the rough patch of stone and land where Lydia Deetz had made her home, it was desolate. It was desolate in a way that invited a person to retreat into themselves, to find those secret places that had ached and mourned for longer than the battered soul would ever care to admit and allow those suppressed emotions to wash mercilessly over them like the waves washed over the jagged, slick rocks of the coast. There was a rapturous abandon there in the fathomless depths of the restless tide that did not judge. It never made demands, it never asked…it only allowed. And for once, Lydia was giving into it.

Her camera remained where she had left it, inside on the kitchen counter. Lydia was taking a moment for personal reflection, which was something she had been avoiding for quite some time now. She sat with her knees drawn up, curled into a large, white wicker chair. Her arms were wrapped around her legs and she rested her cheek one chilled limb. Her dark eyes watched the fog that rolled lazily over the foaming waves and the clouds that crept in-low and ominous. Thunder rolled-a soft sound that mocked the rush of the surf. Soon it would drown it out almost entirely.

Through the thin mesh of the wide screened-in porch, the smell of rain and sea mist permeated the air. The chill made Lydia grateful that she'd changed into a pair of dove gray yoga pants and pulled a loose, hooded sweatshirt on over her black tank top before bringing her coffee out and taking up a spot to watch the wild nature of the storm instead of photographing it. She'd spent so much time taking pictures of such wondrous displays of nature…but never had she taken the time out to just watch it and marvel at the way the clouds shifted, the way the waves reached to receive the onslaught of rain, the reflection of the lightning against the churning waters and the constant rumble of thunder and tide.

She watched now…and though she appreciated the sheer, untamed beauty…the only thing she could think about was how alone she felt and how much she ached for the company of one person.


There was a time she cried for his loss, but over the years that constant, agonizing ripping of her soul had become nothing more than a nostalgic ache in the back of her throat. She wished the memory of the night she left had lost its vividness as well…but it hadn't.

"Lyds…you should…I dunno…live your life. You've got a chance to be somethin' great and all I'm doin…all I'm doin' is holdin' you back."

"But Beej, you're not-."

"Yeah…yeah Lyds. I am. I'm just…that crazy poltergeist friend that drags ya off on adventures in a place you don't even belong and keeps you from actually livin' your own life. It's not…it's not right."

"But it's us, Beej. When are we ever right? You're dead, I'm alive…and we're best friends that are never right. That's what's so great about us though."

"That's just it though, Lyds. You're alive….and I'm dead."

His sad smile was still etched with painful clarity in the hollow depths of her heart. The arguing that had taken place after that, the refusal to go with her to college, to be at her beck-and-call when she need him or when she needed to run off on some grand Neitherworld adventure…it had all hurt so much at the time. To her fragile, seventeen your old self, it could have nearly been classified as the end of the world. It wasn't until the beginning of her Junior year in college that she had really understood. It was so simple that part of her had been disgusted with her own inability to recognize what he was trying to tell her. And she couldn't hate him for it, though she had tried so hard at first.

He wanted her to live. No…she couldn't hate him for that.

She could miss him though. And she did so now at the age of twenty six…so many years later, watching a storm that moved with a recklessness that matched the tempest of emotions inside her, sitting alone on a huge porch of a huge empty house.

That had been the allure of this place. Yes, the rough landscaping and solitude of the coastal, weather-stripped cabin had been appealing as well. But the loneliness that seemed to emanate from the house, from the land it perched upon, from the very ocean itself…it had called to her. There was a moment where she had hoped that there would be a resident specter that might know Beetlejuice…that might be able to carry a message to him. One foot in the door though and she knew immediately with a keen sense of disappointment, that there was nothing. Nothing but emptiness…nothing but her.

Lightning struck to the east, flashing severely and was followed by a loud clap of thunder moments after that made her jump slightly. She briefly entertained the thought of moving inside and boarding up windows. She hadn't heard any mention of dangerous storms moving in, but that didn't mean they couldn't at a moment's notice.

Rational thought was forgotten though as she unfolded her legs. She retrieved her cup of coffee from the wicker table beside her and took a thoughtful sip, watching the waves increase in intensity, licking hungrily at the black rocks that created the shoreline. She could relate to those rocks, helpless to do much more than lay dormant under the ruthless assault of the angry ocean. She could relate to them…but she didn't want to. Something about this particular storm, about the yawning ache of longing she'd lived with for so long…it all created a tumultuous breaking point that she was helpless to fight against.

She needed him here…with her…where she was certain he belonged, regardless of the fact that he was dead and she was alive. Life without him obviously hadn't been much of anything if she was alone and had easily alienated herself from the world around her. She should have lived…but with him…living seemed like only half the adventure it could be.

And, if she were being completely honest with herself…she wanted him. She wanted him in a way that was nowhere near innocent. She had loved Beetlejuice as a friend and had only started to really feel a shift in every emotion that involved him before the night they'd gone their separate ways. Every time he'd touched her…a simple hand at the back, a hug, a ruffle of her hair…it had all started provoking a strange riot of uncomfortable sensations in the pit of her stomach.

Age had provided her with a term for these emotions – lust. And that lust, even in his absence, had only grown over the years. There were dreams that he dominated, there were nights spent alone in her bed where he occupied her every sensual thought until she was nearly driven mad with longing, running her hands anxiously over her body, touching herself and wishing, even as she refused to sob his name, that her touches were his. She missed him in her life, and her body longed for him with near desperation.

It was no way to live…and that's what he'd wanted her to do.

"Live your life, Lyds."

Well…she would. But she'd be damned if she continued to do so without him in it.

She set her coffee aside and pushed herself out of the chair, walking over the worn floorboards to stand closer to the screen door. With the sudden sense of resolve came a wave of giddy excitement laced with trepidation. She rested her hands on the doorframe and closed her eyes, lifting her face to the salty spray of rain and water as it came through the screen. The wind tugged at her hair, teasing it from its restraint and dampening the few strands that framed her pale face.

She could still remember the words that would bring him to her, that would open the portal between his world and hers. It was a risk…hoping that he was still there, that he would answer her call….that he would feel the way she felt.

But living, she thought with a small quirk of her full, dark lips, is always a risk.

The storm seemed to understand her intentions. The thunder became deafening, the lightning struck dangerously close to the house. Even the wind seemed to pick up speed, whistling through the thin wires, bending the trees and whipping the leaved branches into a frenzy.

"Though I know I should be wary…still I venture someplace scary…"

A crack of thunder shook the house and she opened her eyes, silently daring the storm to stop her.

"Ghostly haunting I turn loose….Beetlejuice….Beetlejuice…."

She hesitated, allowing a moment of doubt. Did she want to turn back? Could she risk so much for the mere chance that he might want her, that he might miss her and need to be with her?


With a deep breath, she lifted her face and cried out one final time, "BEELEJUICE!"

Lightning split the sky on both sides of the house, rushing to meet the earth and angrily splitting several trees. Lydia jumped away from the door, eyes wide, her pulse racing. The hostile wind whipped at the house, invisible fingers dragging over the weathered siding and tearing at it. The storm had become impossibly lethal in a matter of seconds and Lydia almost forgot to breathe as fear overcame her. She stepped back further, thinking that now would be a good time to run inside. Another step back…and then there was a pair of strong arms around her.

The wind suddenly slowed, the lighting settled and the thunder became nothing more than a soft distant roar once again warring with the ocean waves.

Lydia went still. She closed her eyes and held her breath. She no longer felt confident. She felt tense and lost…and undeniably frightened.

"Beetlejuice," she questioned with breathless uncertainty.

There was silence for only a moment and then a soft chuckle followed by, "Easy on the 'B' word there, Babes."

The fear receded with a sudden rush that left her feeling dizzy. She whirled and without looking at the ghost who now held her, threw hear arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

Childhood familiarity settled comfortably in her mind as she deeply inhaled his scent, unbothered by the death that clung to him, by the mold and dirt. "I didn't think you'd actually come," she admitted softly.

Again he was silent, his hands lying still at the small of her back. Then, just as softly, he said, "You grew up on me."

Lydia pulled away and stared up at him, quickly swallowing a gasp. He looked…horrible. His pale face was somehow paler, gaunt and caked with dirt. His blond hair hung in lank, grimy strands and his eyes, which usually glowed with ill suppressed, demented glee were now dull and lifeless. To look at him like this caused her near physical pain. Had it been anyone else, her pity would have forced her to look away. But this wasn't someone else. This was Beetlejuice, her poltergeist.

"Beej, what-," she stopped and swallowed the thick knot of emotion that had formed in her throat. "What happened?"

"What?" He let his arms fall away and looked down at himself, the shrugged. "I guess…I dunno. Guess I kinda let myself go, huh?"

Even his voice lacked its usual vibrancy.

"Beej." She moved to him again, lifting a hand and settling it against his cool cheek. He hesitated only a moment before lifting his gaze to meet hers. In their depths was mirrored her own pain, her own longing and loneliness.

"Nine years," she murmured. "Grew up…did a lot of thinking." She lifted the other hand and cradled his face between them, reveling in the feel of his cool skin against hers, in the fact that she could, once again, touch him. "Did you…did you figure out what I figured out?"

His hands were at her back once more, clutching the fabric of her sweatshirt. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers, his brow furrowing. He looked so vulnerable. It scared her, seeing him this way. If there was one thing Beetlejuice never was, it was vulnerable. Comically panicked in the face of his political peers, yes….but never vulnerable.

"I figured out," he started, then swallowed and shook his head.


His eyes opened. The pain had manifested itself into tears. She had never known he was capable of tears. To know he cried them now…for her…it twisted her heart and drug her own sorrow free, laying it bare. Her eyes suddenly burned and the lump had returned, lodging itself in her throat and making it nearly impossible to breathe.

"I figured out that I was a dumbass to tell you to go and just…leave me behind. Even dead…I can't live without you, Lyds. I was so fucking stupid to think that I could. You're my best friend." Again he shook his head, frowning. "No…it's more than that." Desperation flashed in his eyes, he unconsciously pulled her closer. "Isn't it?"

"It is to me," she whispered, trembling hands slipping back into his hair. She didn't care that years of grime slid between her fingers. She only cared about holding him.


Her full name on his lips…it was magic. Tears spilled over her cheeks and she moved closer, melting as his arms tightened around her and held her with inexplicable tenderness. "I've missed you so much, Beej. I can't…live half a life. I can't try to do what you wanted me to do because…it's not worth it if you're not here. I'm old enough to understand how much you meant to me….how much you mean to me." Her voice dropped to a breathless whisper and the admission she'd held in for so long found its release. "I love you."

There was no clarification needed. The look on his face, the sudden relief and joy that nearly erased the unresponsive intruder that had overtaken him was enough to tell her that he knew.

He lowered his head, watching her carefully and she shuddered, anticipation building unbearably in the pit of her stomach. His eyelids drooped and his gaze moved to her lips.

"Lydia…" he whispered again, her name drifting from his mouth like a prayer. "I love you."

His cold lips brushed over hers and she whimpered, hands fisting in his hair, her eyes sliding shut. She arched to meet him, frantic in her need to have his hands all over her. And she was met by nothing but cold air. Frowning, she opened her eyes and her breath caught when she found him grinning down at her, a telltale glow in his flashing yellow-green eyes. He was back.

"Run, little girl," he hissed. He freed her and his tongue snaked out to lick his lips as he eyed her hungrily.

Lydia took a step back, excitement overwhelming her senses.

"The devil's come'a callin'."

She sucked in a breath and turned, dashing for the screen door and flinging it wide. One graceful leap had her over the short flight of stairs to the path that lead down to the rocky shore. When her feet hit the ground, she surged forward. His insane laughter filled the air, mixing with the roar of the waves and the incessant thunder.

It was madness, running into a storm that was slowly starting to build again. Madness…and purely intoxicating. The rain pelted her, the wind ruthlessly pushed against her and still she ignored it, her legs working to carry her swiftly over the rough terrain. She felt alive. For so long she'd been merely functioning, forcing herself to wake up every morning and complete the tedious steps of her everyday existence. Now…with Beetlejuice there, with the admission of his love…she was living, feeling the exhilaration rushing through her.

She ran until her feet hit the rocks and there she stopped, whipping around and fully expecting to see him standing not even a few feet away, watching her smugly. The only thing she saw, however, was the house, hazy looking through the thick curtain of rain.
"Beej…" she whispered.

A tap on her shoulder and she whirled, immediately caught up in his arms, drawn against his solid body, her gasped silenced by his lips slanting over hers. She clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist, curling her fingers into his wet hair. He nipped at her bottom lip and she eagerly opened for him, her tongue boldly caressing his. He tasted of death and seduction…of smooth sin and whiskey. He was addictive. Her mouth moved boldly over his, taking everything he was giving. She was shameless in her need for him…but she hadn't seen him in so long. Being denied the love of the only man who would own her mind for so long made her greedy.

He turned and she found herself sitting on a large rock jutting out of the surf. Unwinding her legs from around him, she allowed him to move back and opened her eyes. He stood before her, the water washing over his ankles, in nothing more than a pair of black pants. He looked thinner than she remembered, a hint of weight still clinging along his waist. And his skin was so pale, the gray-blue shade noticeable in the midday gloom of the storm. Reaching forward, she pressed her fingertips to his chest, then lay her hands flat, feeling cold bite into her palms. There was no heartbeat…no rise and fall of air into and out of his lungs. Would his heart be racing like hers if there was….would he be having as much difficulty breathing as she was?

She inched her hands up and then down, noticing the way Beetlejuice trembled slightly under her ministrations and smiling. She took a great amount of pleasure in knowing she could provoke such a reaction from a ghost. Feeling empowered, she slid her hands lower and his were suddenly there to stop her, closing around her wrists.

Lydia looked up. She was ready to ask him why but once again, his eye silenced her. For someone who was no longer living, his eyes were far more expressive than those of any living person she knew. He held nothing back – torment, need, desire…love – she could easily read each emotion.

She withdrew her hands and moved back. Slowly, she rolled one shoulder, then the next, shrugging out of her soaked sweatshirt. Next came the tank top. She took the flimsy hem in her fingers and pealed the garment away from her skin. She carelessly dropped it somewhere beside her, not caring if the ocean carried it away and she never saw it again. Her bravado wavered slightly when she reached for the waistline of her pants. Never once taking her eyes off his face, though his gaze was now raking impatiently over her body, she shifted her hips and pulled the clinging fabric down until there was nothing hiding her body from him.

Lydia placed her hands behind her on the rock and stretched back, silently beckoning Beetlejuice to make a move, to touch her, to do anything besides stare. One hand came to rest by her side, then the other. He leaned in and his lips closed around one hardened nipple. Lydia made a soft, mewling noise and dropped her head back. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on nothing more than the feel of his cold lips against her overheated flesh. His tongue moved sensually, circling and tasting, stirring the banked fire within her.

She wanted to touch him, to hold him to her, even more so when he moved to the other breast and nipped playfully at it, his hand coming up to close around the one he'd abandoned and massage it. But she resisted. There was something far more tempting about giving him the freedom to move on his own, in offering herself up to him like a sacrificial virgin.

His mouth left her breast and moved to the valley between. He unhurriedly made his way lower, each kiss prompting her to lay back further until her back pressed fully against the unforgiving stone. Now she reached for him, her fingers running down his head and to his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh.

All around them the storm raged. The waves rushed up and crashed mercilessly against the rocks, they spray drenching them even further. The lightning flashed, bright and deadly, yet never touched them. In the back of her mind Lydia knew why it didn't. Beetlejuice was protecting them, using whatever powers he possessed to keep them from any real danger - protecting them even as he lavished attention on her body, driving her further and further to the edge of sexual insanity.

His tongue laved a path from her navel back up and found her left breast again. It was a distraction, which she quickly realized when he slid one finger over the slick folds of her femininity and her world came precariously close to shattering.

Lydia had thought she had known desperation before when it came to Beetlejuice. Only now did she realize how sadly lacking that desperation had been. With one simple stroke the passion blazed wild and white-hot, pulsating through her. She jerked up, startling Beetlejuice and quickly silencing any protest by kissing him with deep, feral abandon. One arm went around his neck as his arms came around her, crushing her body against his. Her other hand slipped between them and pulled at the button of his pants, slipped inside and freed his length. She worked him over, inexperienced and yet fully aware of what pleased him. Every growl, every groan, muffled by her lips, told he was enjoying it.

Suddenly, it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to tease, to torture…she needed more. She needed more like she needed her next breath and without saying it, he knew. His hands came around her hips and pulled her roughly forward. She released him and looked up, eyes steady on his, her mouth a breath away. He pushed into her and Lydia gasped for breath, her arms tightening around him. She knew there was pain but she was lost to it, her mind registering only blinding pleasure. She moved with him, arching against him, crying out as he drove into her over and over.

The storm surrounded them and yet, they were far more uninhibited. It was almost as if they were battling it, trying to see which could come out victorious in its recklessness. A wave rushed over them, pushing Beetlejuice further into her and Lydia threw her head back, a raw scream tearing from her throat - a throat that his teeth were now at, bruising her skin.

Something built within her, frenzied and out of control. It threatened to consume her and for one brief moment, she was terrified. Whatever it was…it was too much.

It was going to kill me.

"Beej-," she murmured, her voice disjointed and fearful.

"Right here, babes." His hand rose to cradle her face. "Lydia…look at me. Stay with me."

She did as he commanded, dragging in one unsteady breath after another. "Kiss me," she begged.

With a groan, he lowered his head and his mouth came down on hers, hard and demanding. She cracked, she yielded herself over to a power greater than she could even understand. She caught her breath, held it and with one final thrust whatever had been building within her splintered and burst apart. She clung to him, trembling as her climax held her captive. Like the waves, ecstasy and euphoria washed over her.

She wanted to stay there, floating in nothingness, spent and feeling her body hum pleasantly. But something stopped her. The ghost in her arms trembled, bringing her reeling back to reality. He had stopped moving and was drawing in deep, ragged breaths. But…he was a ghost. Ghost didn't need to breath…so why-?

And she suddenly realized it. He was trying to keep from snapping entirely. He'd driven her over the edge, given her fulfillment like she had never known…and yet denied himself.

"Beej." She cradled his face between her hands and kissed him once, then again. "It's okay."

"I don't want to hurt you," he muttered, his voice strained.

"You could never hurt me." She could feel that thing inside of her, tightening unbearably once more, that insatiable need opening up and demanding more. She rocked her hips against his, marveling at the way he fell against her. Tremors rocked his powerful body.

Lydia pressed her lips to his ear, then very softly whispered, "Beej…you can't hurt me. I was made for you…only you." Then even softer, "Please…"

Beetlejuice raised his head to the heavens and an inhuman sound that sent chills down her spine was wrenched from deep within him. His hesitation was swept away, leaving only untamed greed and lust in its place. Lydia wrapped her arms tightly around him and gave in entirely, offering everything she had and taking nothing in return. Their cries were lost in the howling and riotous thunder.

Lydia felt pleasure crest again, now familiar with the startling ferocity of her need. She knew when she gave in this time, he would be right there with her. And he was, his hoarse shout of release softened by the curve of her neck.

Sometime later - it could have been minutes, it could have been hours – Lydia could breath normally again. Her heart no longer felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest. She still held Beetlejuice but her arms had slackened, hanging around his shoulders.

The tempest had relented, now nothing more than distant rumbling and a light drizzle. She couldn't find it in her to care that they still sat in it, content where they were.

"Stay with me," she whispered after a while, repeating his words from earlier.

His arms tightened around her and his lips found her temple, resting there for a moment. "Always."