DISMISSED

Some People Fuck At Funerals

Warnigs

Incest / Necrophilia / Gore

Tags

Henry Cooldown/Travis Touchdown / NMH3

兄

The fight had ended. Sylvia had left and the dust had settled but the fog still remained.

Travis didn’t know what to do with himself, with his hands. For the longest time, what felt like centuries, he just stood there in the motel parking lot, staring at the bisected and mangled corpse of Henry. A broken and bloodstained mirror staring back at him.

He’d killed before, of course, too many times to count. It was so obvious it didn’t even need mentioning, it was another fact of life for him, like eating and sleeping. It was just what he did to survive; no one blames a tiger for hunting for its food.

But this time, it felt different somehow. The red was more vivid, the copper smell was more pronounced. There was a ringing in his ears, a dryness to his throat, an itching in his hands. The adrenaline rush of fratricide had made his head spin and his jeans felt one size too small.

Briefly, he remembered Sylvia’s cleanup crew would be there any minute to wipe all traces of his brother, as if he’d never even existed, and it was that realisation that breathed a tiny dose of panic into his lungs.

He dropped to his knees and scrambled towards Henry’s torso. The spilt blood seeped through his jeans and jagged asphalt dug into his flesh but he didn’t even notice.

Henry looked terrible, like he’d been mauled by an animal. Bloody gashes everywhere. His viscera spilled out of him like something indecent, obscene. It was mesmerising; the art piece Travis had made out of him.

He pushed down the urge to cry and laugh and vomit and instead he unzipped his jeans.

Henry had said he wanted to dance, hadn’t he? So Travis would give him his last dance.

Lining himself up with the gaping abdominal cavity, he thrust himself deep within the blood and flesh and sinew and he gasped. Still so warm. Travis could almost trick himself into believing his brother was still alive.

A sob escaped his throat as he dragged his length through the tangled mess of viscera, entrails clinging to him, pulling him closer into a deceptively warm embrace, trying to soothe his aching heart for reasons far beyond his understanding.

Don’t cry, Travis. Don’t you fucking cry!

How could he possibly not cry? Here lay his last remaining relative, broken and bruised and falling apart at the seams, his only reminder of a life he once had, and Travis had only himself to blame. He had no right to grieve for what he himself had destroyed, but the tears continued to fall anyway, collecting on the lenses of his sunglasses and blocking his view of Henry. How could he not cry?

The smell of blood and guts was unbearable to him, rot filling his every sense as his restless hips churned Henry’s squishy intestines. Blood and mucus covered the front of his jeans. The heat was already starting to dissipate from the body that no longer needed it, and although it was agony, Travis sped up his thrusts anyway because this was his last chance to be this close to Henry.

He didn’t understand why it had to be this way. He didn’t know who he’d pissed off in a previous life to be subject to such misery. Why did they have to be condemned to dance this hellish waltz of death? Were they born to be each other’s demise in every possible reality?

Maybe in another life, things could have been different, he told himself. Maybe they could have had a normal childhood, where they could be normal kids that played and fought and laughed and cried. They could fight over who gets the bigger slice of pizza, or who gets to play on the swings first. They could fight and push and shove but when one tripped and scraped his knee the other would rush to make him stop crying. They could fight all day but come together to beat up whoever was bullying their little sister. They could fight all day but whisper conspiratorially under the blankets past their bedtime.

They could have a normal life, one where they didn’t need to kill to survive. One where he didn’t need to murder his own brother.

The tears welled, again and again, unstoppable as the growing ache in his heart and the heat in his groin, and he knew he would never be forgiven. Not by Henry, not by the hundreds of others he’d condemned to a gruesome death, and so he ventured even further into the depths of sin, so long as there would be no forgiveness anyway.

Travis removed Henry’s sunglasses and tossed them to the side. They suited Henry but he wanted to see what they covered one last time. Cold blue eyes, identical to his own in every way, but they were lifeless, accusatory. They stared off into the distance and refused to meet his gaze, selfish and willful even in death, almost enough to deter Travis from what he’d set out to do.

He pushed his apprehensions to the side -- what little of them he had left -- and bent low and captured Henry’s lips with his own. They were cold and unresponsive and he tasted blood on his tongue when he jostled his corpse back and forth across the asphalt. This was the best he would ever get; this, cold lips, unresponsive, unmoving, and sullied by the taste of his own tears. It was Henry’s very last kiss and Travis had taken it all for himself. Just as he’d taken everything else.

Travis could feel himself nearing the finish, his body displaying the telltale signs of an impending orgasm, shuddering, stuttering, rutting, panting, and he didn’t want it to be over. Not yet. He still wanted to spend more time with his brother, just a little bit more, please, he still had some warmth to him, but his traitorous body wouldn’t listen. The lingering warmth and slickness of Henry’s insides beckoned and pulled him straight off the edge of sanity, and he went tumbling down against his will. Finishing inside the mess of flesh and blood, he left a swirl of pink and red and white behind with a whimper.

It was over, just like that. The solemn knell. The last nail in the coffin. The blood-rusted guillotine blade falling into place. Bitter and final.

Travis pushed himself up onto his aching knees. He picked up Henry’s sunglasses and hesitated before putting them back on the corpse’s face. One last look at Henry’s cold eyes, and he banished all hopes of redemption. With surprisingly steady hands, he closed his brother’s eyelids shut for him before sliding the glasses on his broken nose. What would he dream of now in his eternal sleep?

He got up, straightened himself out and headed back inside the motel with disturbing clarity. His knees weren’t shaky, his expression was set into a grim line, and his hands were clenched into tight fists. Being the main character was his full-time job after all. Let someone else deal with the aftermath of the carnage; the mangled corpse lying in his parking lot was someone else’s responsibility, not his.

His condolences to the next of kin.

弟

Henry had fulfilled his duty as the elder brother and had put Travis out of his misery. Those mocking words still echoed in his mind.

Having a brother like you, it’s fucking embarrassing!

Yeah? Well, who’s the embarrassment now? There laid his corpse on the toilet before everyone’s eyes, full of holes with his decapitated head resting in his lap. Completely defenseless and exposed for all to see.

Henry felt a strange surge of irritation and possessiveness swell within him. Inexplicable jealousy. This weakness was meant for his eyes only.

He asked his accomplices to clear the premises and give him a moment alone with his brother. They complied.

Alone now, he breathed a sigh of relief. His senses were filled by the overpowering stench of blood. Nothing out of the ordinary for him; it comforted him, even.

He picked up Travis’s head from his lap. It was warm still, and heavy, roughly the same weight as a bowling ball. The lacerated neck oozed blood and gore onto the yellow tiles, the filth seeping into Henry’s black gloves and staining his boots. His little brother was still messy and careless, even in death.

He removed those gaudy yellow shades to get a better look. His face was sprayed with blood and his puppy-dog eyes were wide open, staring pointlessly, unseeingly. Lovestruck dolt.

Henry had seen everything there was to see, you know. From the motel window. His poor, poor, idiot little brother weeping over his corpse like he’d just been widowed, desecrating his dead body in broad daylight. Not that there were any witnesses to see the act; there were never any witnesses in Santa Destroy, he’d come to learn. Only ghosts, like himself and his brother. His poor, crybaby little brother.

A strange surge of affection made him lift the lifeless skull to eyelevel, studying its features closely before bringing it closer for a kiss. His lips met their cold and lifeless twin, unresponsive. Unresisting.

There was a certain kind of thrill in that, of his selfish brother offering himself with no resistance, but it made him wonder how it might have been if there had still been life flowing through his cold veins. Travis would have probably bitten and scratched and drawn as much blood as he could if he’d had a say in any of this. He would have pretended he absolutely hated it. The thought made Henry smirk into the kiss. Too bad, so sad.

Though the kiss tasted of blood and misery, the thought that this was Travis’s last kiss made it taste sweeter than any ambrosia ever could. Travis would never kiss anyone else ever again, he would never steal anyone from Henry ever again. He would never be taken from Henry ever again. For him, life was frozen forever in the exact moment Henry’s blade made contact with his jugular, connecting them both for all eternity.

So perfect was the mere notion, it made his loins ache and burn. Freeing himself from the tight confines of his trousers, he thought of an even better way to bid farewell to his little brother. He placed his gloved thumb on Travis’s lower lip and pushed. The jaw gave and lowered easily, opening his mouth wide and exposing the wet and bloody insides, waiting, inviting Henry silently. Giving him permission to do as he pleased.

Gripping Travis’s gelled hair, Henry fed his length slowly into the willing and slack mouth, sighing at the immaculate warmth that surrounded him. It was pure ecstasy, being connected with Travis like this, almost like it was always meant to be. They were born for this, he was sure of it. It only took them both killing each other to realise it.

It was so easy to just thrust in and out of that slick heat. So natural he almost thought his brother was still alive, with how warm he was. But Henry knew that if Travis were still alive there would be no way he would have made this so easy. He would have bitten Henry’s dick clean off and choked on it out of spite. He would have scratched at Henry’s arms and made a fuss. He would have cried and begged and tried to convince him that this wasn’t how it was meant to be. The thought was tantalising enough to send a bolt of pleasure through him, making him snap his hips and thrust into the tight throat, almost far enough to come out the other end of the wounded neck.

He wouldn’t miss his weak crybaby little brother. Not ever. This was meant to happen, no other way about it. They were meant to tear each other to pieces and make rosaries from each other’s vertebrae since the moment they were conceived. It was only a matter of who stumbled first.

Perhaps in his weakest moments he had thought about what life would have been like if they had never been separated. Maybe then there would have been another way to resolve this endless battle. Maybe there would be no battle at all. But he knew deep down that it was naïve to hope for peace where there was room for none. Him and his brother were parallel lines that would never cross; it was just how it was. So he wouldn’t miss Travis. Even if he wanted to.

For now, he focused on the delicious warmth and tightness that engulfed him. He would let this pleasure burn him to ashes if he could, let it drag on and on forever and ever. Every thrust made the seconds melt away into nothingness, every drop of blood from Travis’s wounds hitting the tiles was a grain of sand flowing from a broken hourglass. How perfect that it was Henry who had destroyed him so irreversibly.

He slammed into his baby brother’s mouth with increasing abandon as he felt the approach of his unravelling. The drip, drip of the blood hitting the floor was the metronome he swung his hips to, wishing beyond reason to burn this moment into his mind forever. The moment he and his brother were finally one, as they should have been from the beginning.

He doubled over and groaned as he came undone, rent apart by the force of his orgasm, possibly the best he’d had in his lifetime. Travis received all Henry had to give him quietly, without complaint. How good he’d been for his big brother just this once.

Henry removed himself from the wet orifice with some difficulty. The walls of the throat and the jaws clung to him as if unwilling to let go. Rigor mortis had already begun to set in, it seemed. Henry raised Travis’s head to eye-level once more, to get one last good look at him. He was ghastly and pale, saliva and blood and semen dripping from his livid lips, yet somehow his lifeless eyes seemed to beg him to stay a bit longer. For a moment, Henry felt his heart squeeze painfully tight, and he placed a kiss on his little brother’s tear-streaked and bloodied cheek.

He observed the scene for a moment longer, before deciding he’d had his fill and tossing the dismembered head back onto the cold body resting on the toilet. This mess would have to be dealt with soon or it would stink up the place even more.

But that would be someone else’s responsibility. Henry had done what he’d come here to do; his business was concluded. A chapter had ended and another one had begun.

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.