Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/544204.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Gamzee_Makara/Kurloz_Makara
  Character:
      Kurloz_Makara, Gamzee_Makara
  Additional Tags:
      Humanstuck, indigocest, Makaracest, PWP, shameless_porn, Smut,
      Halloweenstuck, ghost!Gamzee
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-23 Words: 1719
****** Spectre ******
by Esca
Summary
     Kurloz receives a visitor on Halloween night.
     A dead one.
Notes
     This was inspired by horrible ghost hentai. I love horrible ghost
     hentai. It's so hilarious and unsexy--the challenge here was to make
     a ridiculous notion creepy and esoterically erotic. I hope I
     succeeded. Please enjoy!
     For Monet.
See the end of the work for more notes
Kurloz used to love Halloween when he was younger. Whereas some older siblings
bitched and complained when prompted to take their younger brothers or sisters
out for candy, he’d done so without nary an utterance. He missed those days.
Flicking his lighter, he lit the little unscented white tea light candle in
front of his brother’s photograph on his nightstand and looked at Gamzee’s
smiling, mirthful face with a somber expression. His little brother was
sixteen. He’d said he was too old to go out gallivanting around, that Halloween
was for the younger kids, and refused to accompany him like he’d done all those
years before. Gamzee had gone out anyways with his friends and he had been hit
by drunk driver behind the wheel of a speeding car and killed upon impact while
crossing the street. His friend that had been holding his hand was struck as
well, and he had been rendered paralyzed from the waist-down.
Kurloz hated Halloween. He could have taken him to a movie or something. One of
those all-night horror-fests at the drive in. They could have gorged on candy
until they puked. He had too many lingering regrets and he hated that he’d been
so stubborn that night two years ago. Now Gamzee was nothing but bones in a
casket buried six-feet deep underground next to some other nameless corpses,
and yet this night would still roll around once a year, perpetually torturing
him with the constant thoughts of ‘what if’.
Plucking up the frame, Kurloz planted a kiss on it and murmured softly tender
nothings and whispers of brotherly love before setting it back down and turning
off his lamp, the eerie glow from the flickering candle dancing along the walls
of his bedroom as he stripped down to his underwear and got under his sheets,
wrinkled and splayed from being slept in soundly so many nights before.
He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to do much of anything--maybe watch the
candle he lit in front of his brother’s picture wax and wane until it burned
out by itself.
Just watch it move to and fro, flicker and fade...
Yawning blearily, Kurloz felt his eyes close, his body acting on autopilot
despite his despondency and desires to stay conscious.
Eventually the candle went out, and he was left in inky black darkness,
drifting between the hemispheres of subconsciousness and deep sleep. He allowed
himself to dream, to escape the constant depressive state that was his reality.
‘Wake up, motherfucker.’
Kurloz opened his eyes, indigo focusing on the blurred shape hovering over him,
and widening almost impossibly.
‘Ain’t you a sight for some sore-ass eyes, bro. ‘Bout time you opened them
Elizabeth Taylor-lookin’ babies real pretty for me.’
He was drenched in blood. It was his own. The coppery smell was pungent,
malodorous. His skin was near iridescent, effervescent, crimson staining him
like a flush so beautifully, yet completely ostentatiously and cruelly
betraying his deceased state at the same time. His eyes, once indigo like his
own, held no more life to them. They were dead, white, his irises like milk
stark against the black of his pupil. His shirt was in tatters, his pants were
ripped and his fingernails broken, cracked and split right down the middle on
some--his left index nail was gone completely.
‘You’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout me, bro. You’ve always been such a motherfuckin’
softie...’ Gamzee grinned widely, his teeth smattered with dried blood as he
reached down and grabbed onto Kurloz’s left hand, eyeing the little cursive ‘G’
tattooed onto his ring finger indulgently before turning over his arm to eye
the two dates inked onto his wrist in roman numerals.
‘Now ain’t that just the sweetest thing. I’ll up and tell you a secret, Kur-
kur. I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you, too. Gets real motherfuckin’ lonely bein’
dead... You wanna keep me company for a lil’ while, have some real bitchin’
quality bro-time?’
He darts his bloodied tongue out and drags it along the tattoo on Kurloz’s
wrist and smirks at him darkly, legs straddling the elder’s waist and lips
crushing against his almost painfully as the sting of teeth is prevalent,
registered in Kurloz’s mind. Little butterfly kisses are pressed down the line
of his jaw, the column of his throat, incisors and bicuspids tearing through
epidermal layers and forcing a groan from the lithe Capricorn's mouth.
Kurloz clenches the sheets, his breathing slowly coming on heavier as mangled
hands traverse the planes of his torso, down his sides, making his cock swell
in anticipation as Gamzee hooks his fingers in the elastic waistband of his
boxer-briefs and pulls them down, air ghosting over his hardening dick making
Kurloz gasp lightly, barely audible.
'You're hard for me already. I like that.' Gamzee purrs lowly, darting that
vermilion-tainted appendage past his lips to lick up Kurloz's length, tongue
swirling over the tip teasingly before he engulfs him, moving his head up and
down and creating an intense suctioning pressure as he curls his lips over his
teeth.
Kurloz groans loudly and tangles his fingers in his baby brother's mop of hair,
blood coagulated on strands thickly and staining the undersides of his
fingernails as he works his hips, thrusting up into that moist heat and forcing
Gamzee to take him deeper with subtle pushes of his head downwards as he flexes
his stomach muscles.
The younger Makara is moaning openly as he sucks, his hands fumbling with the
button and zipper of his damaged and stained pants as he fishes out his cock
and strokes it with his asphalt-burned palm, the friction making him completely
aroused and wanting more.
Jerking his hips up harshly once more, Kurloz spills deep into Gamzee's mouth
with a sharp cry, his sibling swallowing down his cum like its nothing before
pulling back and spitting a sloppy viscous mess of semen and saliva into his
palm and slicking up his hard-on.
'Touch yourself, motherfucker. I wanna see you fuck yourself with your fingers
nice and sweet.'
Wetting his digits sloppily, Kurloz winces as he penetrates himself with his
index finger, and gasps when Gamzee leans down and parts open his legs wide,
tongue licking at Kurloz's perineum as he adds a second finger and begins
thrusting them in and out of his orifice, stretching himself widely. He curls
his index finger just so and it sends a shiver up his spine.
'Enough.'
Gamzee grasps his hand by the wrist and moves it aside.
Biting down on his bottom lip, Kurloz braces himself and lets out a staggering
moan as his sibling literally slams his rock-hard cock in his ass and begins
fucking him hard and deep and brutal, completely inelegant and without finesse,
but fuck, it still feels so good.
His baby brother is inside him. He's inside him and his dick is carving out
hollows in his body, tunneling and hitting his prostate over and over and
making his toes curl with each movement. His groans are becoming louder in
pitch, more frequent in utterance, and his body is moving of its own volition
as he frantically thrusts his ass back to meet Gamzee halfway, skin slapping
against skin and auditing the room.
'Fuck... You're so damn tight... such a fuckin' sweet ass. Gonna fuck you so
hard, bro...'
He isn't lying. If it were even at all possible, Gamzee is fucking him faster,
literally jackhammering that teenaged prick of his in and out of Kurloz in
deep, staccato thrusts that make the elder's eyes roll back into his head.
‘You like that? Scream for me. I wanna hear you.’
Gamzee curls his palm around Kurloz’s dripping cock, grit and silt embedded
into his hand texturing every pump of his older sibling’s length and increasing
the friction twofold. The heat is maddening, and even if he wanted to, Kurloz
can’t hold out any longer. Arching his spine so severely that bone cracks and
sinew near reaches its giving point, he cums with a piercing shout, the sound
reverberating, echoing, so loud and completely overwhelming.
‘That’s it, baby. Just. Like. That.’ He accents his words with a few more harsh
thrusts, each one making another hot spurt of semen shoot from the tip of the
older Makara’s spent arousal. Gamzee pulls out, still hard, and shifts so his
hard-on is right in Kurloz’s face. ‘Open.’
It’s not a request, it’s an order.
Parting open pierced lips and sticking out his tongue, Kurloz closes his lids
over his hazy indigo eyes and grimaces at the taste of salty ejaculate on his
tongue. A fair smattering lands on his cheeks, his chin, and drips lazily in a
rivulet down his Adam’s apple. He swallows everything his baby brother has to
give him without question, the bitterness making his stomach churn acidically
in response.
Sucking in deep breaths of air into his lungs, Kurloz doesn’t open his eyes to
look at Gamzee--he simply falls back against his pillow and he can almost
visualize the smirk on his face as dark chuckles invade his aural sponges,
haunting him, invading every deep recess of his mind and imprinting themselves
upon whatever space they can leech onto in a frenzy.
‘That was hella fun, Kur-kur. We’ll have to do this again--same time next year,
motherfucker?’
HoNk.
hOnK.
HONK.
Kurloz startles awake with a gasp, pupils shaking as he clutches his head in
his hands and rocks back and forth in an effort to self-soothe.
It was only a dream.
It was just a dream.
A nightmare, really.
Sighing and covering his hands with his face, he blinks and shudders when a
cold, viscous fluid is sticking to his digits, and he removes them from his
profile, staring intently and feeling his stomach lurch.
The taste of salt is prevalent on his lips, his tongue.
Throwing back the sheets, his eyes go impossibly wide at the realization that
he’s naked, covered in his own dried cum and there’s blood, blood in between
his thighs and staining his purple fitted sheet.
His hands are shaking, and he stares over at his brother’s portrait, entire
form trembling uncontrollably.
It isn’t until he sees the bloody little smiley face swiped onto it that he
finally allows himself to let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Kurloz hates Halloween.
End Notes
                        HaPpY HaLlOwEeN MoThErFuCkErS
                                sLeEp tIgHt ;o)
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