Work Text:
Brian makes it all make sense. Everything in my life feels like it has been leading up to this, to be kneeling at the altar of my brother's art, my hands sunk into the soft warm flesh, elbow deep. I can hardly look at him these days for how blinding and bright he seems. He smiles against my neck while I finish his dirty work. We are a joint effort, him and I-- the preparation, the ceremony, the theatrics, even the kill is his. My duty lies elsewhere. I am the shepherd and the ferryman, the lure and the hook. Brian says that I am the dark side of his moon. It hangs low in the sky tonight, pouring over the bodies at our feet and bathing them in its light. Though it is only three-quarters and waning it is still enough to get us by, its hum no louder or softer than always. As I finish my piece, Brian wraps his hands around my waist as though he is trying to pull me inside himself. I let him press me into the gore facedown. I stay pliant as he unbuckles my belt, boneless as he pants hot and heavy rutting between my thighs. I am limp when he finally presses inside; my hands bury themselves in cooling flesh and still-warm blood. Unprepared I whimper as he starts to move in fast, stuttering motions. My hips move of their own volition, twitching up and back in sync with Brian. We move in tandem. I hear nothing but the moon-song in my ears, feel nothing but Brian inside me. With a gasp he slumps forward and fills me up but does not pull himself out. A sound leaves my mouth, a pathetic sort of mewl prompted by nothing but the feeling of fullness. I have not moved my hands, and so still within Brian's nimble fingers wrap around me and within seconds I am spilling out on the ground in spatters of pale, moonbeam white. We stay there until the song dies out, unmoving, two bodies joined forever in the night.