Page 144 of Love at First Fright

“Go on, then,” I said, resigning myself to my fate.

“What?”

“Possess me. Taste your bloody favourite crisps again.”

Bat blinked. “I’m not doing that. You were just thrown across the garden, blah blah, as you keep reminding me.”

I shrugged. “Brad seemed fine after you possessed him for ages, and you’ll just possess me for a few crisps.”

Bat’s teeth worried at his lip. “You know, this morning when you were talking about me possessing you to wank, it gave me an idea.”

“What?”

“I want to try partial possession. Where the victim maintains some consciousness.”

“Bat, your use of the word ‘victim’ isn’t particularly reassuring.”

“Me possessing you was your idea!”

“Do you really think you can do that? Make it so I’m not completely gone?”

“I have no idea. But I want to try.”

I looked at him for a long moment. Questioned my life choices for the hundredth time since I met him. “Go on, then. Possess me. I dare you.”

nineteen

Bat

Itook a breath I didn’t need and reached out toward Charlie. “Right. Here goes.”

The sensation was unlike anything I’d experienced before. Instead of diving into Charlie like I had with Brad—complete takeover, drowning out his consciousness—this felt like… slipping on a glove that was already occupied. The warmth of Charlie’s presence pulsed beside me, mingling with my own essence, inviting rather than resisting. There was a thrill in knowing that he was willing, a strange comfort. The echoes of my own intentions were layered against Charlie’s thoughts; his curiosity blooming like spring flowers.

Weird, Charlie’s voice echoed in our shared headspace. I can still think.

Can you hear me thinking back?

Yeah. This is mental.

It was mental. We were partners in this bizarre dance, each sensation heightened, every intention shared. I flexed our fingers experimentally. Charlie’s body responded, but instead of feeling like taking control, it felt like… sharing a melody, a harmony of sorts, threading our desires together.

Your turn, I thought, and Charlie’s hand moved toward the salt and vinegar chip sticks. Or was it my hand? The distinction blurred.

Our fingers closed around a crisp. I guided it to his mouth, and the moment it hit his tongue, I nearly sobbed.

The salt exploded across our taste buds like a bloody symphony. Sharp, aggressive vinegar followed, making our mouth water. The texture—the perfect crunch that dissolved into savoury powder—it was everything I’d forgotten food could be. Every sensation magnified tenfold after so long of nothing.

Yet it was more than the taste of a crisp. It was the joy of tasting life again, side by side with Charlie.

A moan escaped our lips. Half mine, half Charlie’s.

Charlie laughed at the same time, creating this bizarre harmony of sound that shouldn’t have been possible. Christ, Bat, you’re having a religious experience over crisps.

But there was something else.

Something more.

A memory crashed over me like a tidal wave, the taste of the crisps triggering it so hard it was impossible to stop.