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“Suck your dick! Suck your dick! I want to suck your dick!” Precipitation chimed in, even though they obviously couldn’t hear him. “Hello! I said it clear as day. I want to suck both of you still, you beautiful idiots, but especially you, you gorgeous ginger goof.” He noticed Huck in the doorway. “Can you believe these morons?”
“Having fun with EVPs?” Huck teased.
“Always!” Precipitation struck a pose against the side of the desk. “It’s such an awful pity they never understand me. Not a problem you have to worry about with a medium. Oh! Speaking of…” He smiled slyly. “How did your precious little date go?”
Huck grinned. “Well, that’s kinda why I came to see you. It was—”
“Wait, wait!” Precipitation held his finger to his lips, shushing Huck as he stared wide-eyed at Bachata.
“What?” Finn scoffed, a dubious reply to whatever it was Bachata had just said. “You have to be joking.”
“I mean it!” Bachata insisted. “There’s a little whisper of something before theshhhpart, and I swear it’s saying I wanna suck your dick.”
“Aha!” Precipitation cheered. He pointed at Bachata. “You’re my new favorite.”
Finn and Cary exchanged dubious looks, and Cary said carefully, “Well, okay, yes, itdoeskinda sound like that, but would a ghost really reach beyond space and time to say he wants to suck some dick?”
“You tell me,” Bachata declared. “You’re the one who had Mr. Pinchy go for your nips.”
“Wait, where was this audio taken?”
“It’s from you and Finn recording out there in the lobby. After the, ahem, pinching.”
Precipitation was beaming.
Huck knew he was going to have a hard time pulling him away now, not unless he gave him an equally juicy distraction. “So, uh, speaking of dick sucking, got any pointers on how to do that with the living?”
“Huh?” Precipitation blinked over at Huck. “You mean to say that there wasn’t any sucking of the dick sort last night?”
“I maybe kinda ran into a tiny problem.” Huck tried to look as pitiful and helpless as possible. “I need your help.”
“Oh, you poor little scamp.” Precipitation left the desk to give Huck a hug. “Come along then. Tell Uncle Sip what’s the matter.”
“You’re the best.”
“Oh, I know.”
Arm in arm, Precipitation and Huck headed out to the sitting area to take their usual spots—Huck in the armchair, Precipitation dramatically draped across the chaise. Huck told him about the date in great detail, even the tongue sucking bits because that might be important, and finished with a frustrated sigh.
“You made it seem so easy, and I feel like a total dumbass.” Huck hung his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong and it’s gotta be me, right?”
“It’s absolutely you, sweetie,” Precipitation said sweetly.
“Dammit.”
“But it’s very fixable. You have to figure out how to share your energy. From what it sounds like, you were sucking Grant dry and not in the fun way.”
“Well, how the hell do I do that?” Huck threw up his hands. “I thought I was!”
“Breathe.”
“What?”
Precipitation cocked his head, as if it was a challenge. “You heard me. Breathe.”
“Okay. Fine.” Huck leaned back and tried to take a deep breath.
In a blink, Precipitation was there in front of him, smacking him on top of his head. “What the hell are you doing?”
