Ghosts Kissing Novels & Stories

Behind him, the ghost’s shadow loomed large, its gloved hand raised as its voice curled through the air like smoke: “One kiss. Or he dies.” Camela felt her throat tighten. Her lips quivered. “Don’t,” Vincent growled, his voice cutting through the roar of the collapsing city. “Camela…please don’t.” She trembled, her knees giving way against the stone. Her heart screamed inside her chest. The ghost leaned closer, his whispers brushing her ear even though he stood far away. “You’ve already chosen him. Now prove it. Kiss me. Seal it. Or watch him die before your eyes.”

Maya (voice shaking): “I love you too. I love the man you are. The man you’ve always been, even when you thought you were nothing but a ghost. You’re not just a shadow in this world anymore. You’re my everything.” Her tears slipped free, and before either of them thought twice, they leaned in. Their lips met in a kiss — slow, unhurried, tender. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that burned with passion or demanded proof. It was gentler, deeper — a kiss of gratitude. Of recognition. A kiss that said: I see you. I choose you. I will stand with you. When they pulled apart, Ghost rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed, breath uneven. Ghost (whispering): “You’ve given me back my life.”

Ghost grunted, “tell me you don’t want me on my knees for you.” “I do,” I moaned, throwing my head back. “I want you, Ghost. Please touch me. Get on your knees for me.” As though my consent had set off something in his head, Ghost retrieved his fingers, his darkened orbs locked on mine as he slid the coated fingers into my parted lips. I breathed shakily, my lips enclosing around his fingers, my tongue twirling around the tips, dragging a moan out of Ghost’s throat. I released his fingers with pop and he immediately leaned down, his lips brushing against mine in a ghostly manner, shoulders tense and face tight with discomfort.

"Wait. I need to know. Why did, uhm, whatever, carelessly pick me?" "Go back." The woman wasn't paying her any attention. She kept on plucking cowries and attaching them to her head. "What is he? Oh, don't answer that one. He's a ghost. I know that. Why is he in that state? No, no, why can I see him? Why can l feel his touch, ghosts can't do that, can they? What does he need me for?" The old woman stopped her scaly hands from further movements and stared directly at Geneva through her foggy eyes that obviously saw clearly.

The world around us was flickering—one moment we were in the Spire, the next we were standing in a field of translucent, white glass. "I can see the 'Other You', Félix," I whispered, clutching his shoulders. "I see the version of you that never left the snow. He’s cold. He’s so cold." Félix didn't look at the ghosts. He grabbed me with a raw, desperate strength, slamming his lips against mine in a kiss that was about the Now. It was a kiss of blood, sweat, and defiance. In the shadow of the Overwrite, our intimacy was the only "True Data" left.

Too many ghosts. Ethan paused, then leaned back down. He kissed me softly on the forehead. “I’ll be back before you count to ten.” “Ten!” I said immediately, grabbing his hand like a child refusing to be left behind. He laughed under his breath, then leaned in and kissed me again—this time on the lips. Not soft or quick. Not polite. It was deep, full, and fucking warm. The kind of kiss that left no room for doubt. The kind that melted away everything else for just a moment.

I wanted him to take out whatever darkness he had, on me. His eyes moved from mine to my lips, and it felt as real as physical contact. “I would’ve come back just to haunt you.” “I don’t fear ghosts.” I breathed. “You should.” I pressed my lips to his. When he didn’t respond, I flicked my tongue over his bottom lip, sucking it into my mouth. With a growl, he slid his hand over my neck, grabbing my nape roughly, our lips clashing in a dance that wasn’t so gentle. He pulled back, trailing wet kisses down my neck and back up to my ear.

"Why would I do that? If you're a ghost, then I'll admit that I've fallen in love with a ghost." "Really?" I asked, my face turning crimson red. "Yeah. I had no idea that female ghosts could be this beautiful," he said almost in a whisper, his hand leaning on the kitchen counter as he stared dreamily at me. "Enough already. Why are you staring at me like that? It's giving me goosebumps," I complained, and he flashed a smile that revealed his white teeth. "It's a sign that you're falling in love with me. You need to feel more goosebumps," he whispered and kissed my lips before winking at me. At that moment, I felt really hot and wanted to find a private place to blush like a fool.

“This actually feels like I am taking a tour of the Xenon pack in the ancient times. It is a solemn feeling and not as boring as I thought it’d be.” “I am glad you are enjoying this tour, princess.” “I guess, I am.” “Look. This is known as ‘the last kiss.’” Zephyr pointed out a painting of the silhouette of a man and woman leaning against one another for a kiss, but their lips weren’t touching. Behind them was a moon showering light out of the painting. “Hmm? How is it a kiss? I mean, they clearly aren’t kissing,” I said, beholding the painting.

And the fact that I don’t even know who this man is makes it more scary. The fact that I am still locked inside this room while the light was out makes my knees wobble in fear. The feeling is closely similar to the idea of being hunted down by a ghost, the only difference here though is that, instead of killing you once the ghost founds you, this ghost holding me against the wall actually stole a kiss from me. The kiss, however, was getting more intimate and passionately longer than I imagined. His lips were dancing against mine as I could feel his tongue making a rather, faster move by inching in and out of my mouth as if it was trying to reach through my tongue for a knot as well.