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Fire of the Night

Written by Leo_Todrius

Supported by my Patrons

The evening sky had taken on a violet hue with thin ribbons of citrine, complimenting the streetlights as they watched over the trick-or-treaters. The long, hot summer had come to an abrupt end and the cool, crisp air of fall was finally taking root. There was an undercurrent of change as another school year got rolling and the town came together in full force to celebrate the spooky season. In Branson, Halloween was a bigger holiday than Christmas. Some yards were webbed with orange and purple lights while others had taken a more traditional approach with cotton spider webs. The decoration of choice, though, had to be the classic Jack-O-Lantern.

Every household had at least one pumpkin on the porch, though most had clusters. Branson's pumpkin patches went on for miles. There were so many and the holiday was so celebrated that there were Jack-O-Lanterns on random benches, fence posts, even the statue of the town founder had one placed on the book in his outstretched hand, making it look as if he was talking to the pumpkin. They were everywhere, but nowhere in such volume as where the pumpkin patch met the graveyard at the edge of the Old Hill.

An old mausoleum sat on the top of the hill, guarding the edge of the graveyard. The pumpkin patch stretched out at the foot of the hill, although many wild and untended vines had crept their way up the slope that acted as a meridian between the two. It was in this place between death and life that the town folk set out hundreds and hundreds of Jack-O-Lanterns, and it was in this place between life and death that the restless spirits wandered... at least that was where they wandered this night.

A shadow slunk across the pumpkin patch, defined not by any color or light, but rather the absence of any. It was a shade, a forgotten memory, a void. It had the shape of a human, at least mostly. There was a youthful, pointed chin and pointed, elfin ears. A slender torso connected to slender arms. The shade grew brighter, tapering to a lighter and lighter tone from the elbow until the hands glowed like green fire. The same tinge began at the spirit's forehead, climbing up into hair that crackled in lime green flames but looked like some sort of styled fringe. Two solid green eyes blinked from the dark face like the last embers in a witch's fireplace. The rest of his form, from the torso down, trailed into a long undefined undulating tail like a long snake made of smoke. Only the faintest hint of green light played at the edge.

The ghost had wandered for years, though he wasn't sure how many. It was so hard to process the passage of time in the afterlife. As near as he could guess, it had to be somewhere around thirty years. At first, he'd taken some joy at playing pranks on the teenagers that came out to the graveyard to party or the couples that came to the pumpkin patch to go on dates, but that too seemed like a lifetime ago. Teenagers didn't seem to come out anymore. Even when the spirit went into town, no one noticed his presence. It wasn't their fault, of course. He couldn't be seen unless he was inhabiting some object or interacting with some piece of the mortal world, but now that everyone was so invested in their cell phones, no one noticed the occasional flickering light or objects slipping around the room.

It had been interesting to venture out and see the humans celebrating the supernatural, even if they hadn't seen him... but in a way it almost felt worse. The spirit returned to the hillside, drifting along, his tail spiraling behind him. By instinct he was headed back for the first thing he could remember, an old derelict tombstone that had either been placed outside the bounds of the old graveyard or had tumbled down at some point in the past. It was perched at an odd angle and poorly maintained. The date on the tombstone had been on a fragment that had cracked and splintered into pebbles along with the last name, but there was still one piece left, a first name, the name the ghost had taken for himself - Jules.

The spirit hovered above the hillside, looking out at the hundreds of Jack-O-Lanterns flickering away in the night. There were scary faces, happy faces, as well as grotesque and amazing faces. There were some artistic pieces, the skin of the pumpkin scraped back to create a contrast of white and orange to show full moons, werewolves and other shapes. Jules smiled, though he didn't exactly have a mouth... it just felt as if he was smiling. These were his friends, his family, his people. He'd even animated a few over the years, making them talk or howl. That had scared the rowdier teenagers a few decades back.

Jules drifted along, admiring the craftsmanship of this year's crop when he slowed, sensing movement on the hillside. His glowing green eyes scanned the slope before they paused, seeing someone... a young man. He was alone, perched on a boulder that sat in the hillside. His hair was the color of copper, hanging down to his shoulders. His face was smooth except for some wily sideburns creeping down his cheek, and gold rings hung from each ear. He had on a long black t-shirt emblazoned with the name and emblems of some band Jules had never heard of, and his jeans seemed anchored in place by a variety of chains hanging from the loops. Even his shoes had been adorned with metal, sporting a few studs along the toes.

The ghost's fiery light glowed a bit brighter as he realized someone had finally come to his hillside after so long. Jules lowered his torso down to the ground and flew up the slope, his flaming hair whipping back behind him. He surged up to the human before coming to a stop mere inches away. If the human could have seen him, there was no doubt he would have been scared, but as always Jules remained unseen. If he had been seen, the human probably wouldn't have been doing what he was doing either.

At first, Jules didn't realize what the young man was doing. He had played around with his belt a little, then his zipper before drawing it down. He reached into his pants, Jules assumed to adjust himself... but then the young man had drawn out his manhood. Like the rest of him, it too had been decorated with a metal ring. Jules watched in awe as the redhead wrapped his fingers around his cock and started to stroke himself off, letting his hand rise and fall, coaxing more and more blood to fill the growing tool.

For the first time in a long time, Jules had flashes of memory. He remembered being on his knees, his hands wrapped around a cock like that, but it wasn't his own... it was someone else's. He remembered the heartbeat passing through the flesh, the feel of it between his fingers, the taste of it in his mouth... Oh it had tasted so good. Jules moaned softly, remembering for the first time in so long that he had been gay... and he'd been a slut. It hadn't been easy to keep his secret, he'd been alive in a much less accepting time, but now that he remembered, he couldn't believe it had been long enough to forget. He didn't want to forget it again, and he didn't want to be alone another year.

The spirit looked around quickly, trying to think. Humans didn't stay around for long at the best of times, least of all the ones that were trying to get lucky. Jules had to find a way to interact with this visitor, to interact with him, to get him to stay... but there were so few options, so few vessels. The only thing in ample supply were the Jack-O-Lanterns. Jules took a long breath before he dove down, sinking into the earth like it was a swimming pool before he surfaced a few dozen feet away, rising up into one of the carved gourds.

Many of the Jack-O-Lanterns had been filled with LED lights, though a few had been lit the traditional way. As Jules filled this particular pumpkin, the candle flickered as the orange light became green. The triangular eyes shifted, the fang filled mouth closed and then opened and the pumpkin lifted up from the ground. Jules' body began to appear in the physical world. It was blacker and darker than night in the center, edged with the same oxidized green. His face and his hands were the brightest part of him. He rose higher and higher, his tail stretching out behind him like the mighty body of a dragon. It felt good to have a body again... It would feel even better to feel the flesh of a mortal man.

Rising from the field of Jack-O-Lanterns, Jules was their king. The face contorted and twisted on the surface of the pumpkin, glowing with an unearthly green flame. Somewhere within, a black tongue formed, slick and coated in ectoplasmic slime. The spirit was on the hunt, and his quarry was close.

****

The air had a mild bite to it, the hillside flickered with the embers of forgotten souls. The town beyond glimmered with all the porch lights and all the decorations, celebrating the night of the year when the veil was at its thinnest. Liam found it ironic that the town celebrated Halloween so hard when the rest of the year they looked at him like he was the outcast... This was a night for people like him, people that embraced the darkness and the macabre, that understood that light could not exist without the dark.

Liam's hand rose and fell on his cock, the cold air making it that much harder. The wind blew against his copper colored hair and his eyes were half lidded as he indulged. There was something about being in the graveyard on Halloween that turned him on, something that really made him feel like himself. He moaned and grunted, his toes squirming in his studded boots. He huffed and groaned, feeling the temperature rise and rise. He exhaled a bit, trying to make it last, to enjoy himself as long as he could, but when he felt something wet and sticky land on the back of his hand, he thought he'd somehow cum. As he opened his eyes, he was met with a vision he could never have imagined on his own.

"What the fuck?!" Liam cursed, scrambling back against the hillside, sprawled out like a backwards spider. His cock wobbled before him, weighed down by the ring at the tip. Jules floated before him, the jack-o-lantern eyes glowing a bright green. The carved mouth in the pumpkin shifted into a more menacing grin before a black tongue swirled around inside. A ghostly hand reached down, black fingers rimmed by green as they wrapped around Liam's neglected cock. Liam inhaled, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"It is dangerous to come here all alone... especially on a night like this." Jules said. Liam stared up at the spirit, eyes wide but not afraid. After being startled initially, he was much more captivated by Jules' very existence.

"I've never been one to play it safe." Liam replied. The pumpkin headed ghost grinned wider.

"I can tell that about you. You look quite tough." Jules said, starting to work his hand up and down, faster and harder, making Liam squirm and writhe.

"Do you like what you see?" Liam asked, forcing a brave grin. Jules nearly chuckled.

"Do you?" he asked. Liam nodded slowly, starting to lift his hips up and down into the ghostly hand working his meat.

"I do, you're amazing. I've never seen anyone like you." Liam said. Jules let out a soft purr, remembering more fragments of his former life.

"I bet you've never felt anyone like me either." he whispered. Without warning, his slimy black tongue shot out of the pumpkin, wrapping and coiling around Liam's cock like a snake. The tip of the tongue looped through the ring at the tip and started to tug and play with it while the length undulated, milking the human. Liam threw his head back and let out a yowl of pleasure, his hair cascading across his shoulders, his red sideburns blowing in the breeze.

Jules brought his borrowed head down, plunging it around Liam's pillar. At once the metalhead felt an overwhelming maelstrom of sensations. He felt the hot, slimy tongue moving in ways no human could muster. He felt the meaty, pulpy embrace of the gourd. His mind felt with fragments of memory, moments when he'd defied convention, when he'd been himself, when he had rebelled. His fingers dug into the dirt, his back arched, he grunted and groaned.

The spirit was interested in how eager Liam was, although he was thrashing around a bit too much for Jules' taste. He reached out with his spectral essence and dipped into the ground. The dirt began to shift and squirm before thick pumpkin vines shot out, wrapping around Liam's wrists, pulling them to the hillside. More vines coiled around his ankles. Liam gasped and grunted, but his eyes rolled into the back of his head. There was something oddly thrilling about not being in control, being subject to the ravenous hunger of a lonely spirit.

The flames emanating from Jules grew brighter and brighter. It was amazing to feel the presence of a hot throbbing dick in his mouth again, to feel it slipping back and forth along his tongue, to taste the musk and spice... but there was something else, something far more powerful. Jules had been alone for too long and he had lost pieces of himself, but being with this human, being with someone else, doing what had made him himself was bringing it back. Jules was remembering more and more of himself. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

If Jules had still had a heart, it would have fluttered as memories came flooding back. He recalled how much of a flirt he had been, and how often it had been reciprocated. He'd wooed several members of the football team, the high school bad boys, a young man that fancied himself a poet... It had been fiery, fantastic, thrilling... and then it had ended all too abruptly. His reputation, his legacy, had been enough that his tombstone hadn't even been put inside the graveyard... but his family had ensured that he had a great view, to look out across the town and all the people. It was a bittersweet revelation, but Jules remembered who he was and what he could do - and he could do it a lot better as a ghost.

Drops of drool escaped from the corner of Liam's mouth as he thrashed and bucked, sending his cock up into that hungry harvest maw. Liam's mind was bouncing all over the place, jumping to the first time he'd tasted beer to the first time he'd heard heavy metal. He saw glimpses of himself admiring his sideburns as they grew in for the first time, then when he'd gotten pierced. None of it, though, compared to the pleasure he was feeling now. His heart was beating so fast, his muscles were tensing, and sweat was soaking his shirt. His cock had never felt so hard, so full, so... big?

Jules had gotten so carried away with his own memories coming back that he hadn't realized quite the influence he was having. Liam was being pushed to the limit, his entire body working at a hundred and ten percent. His cock was swelling beyond the point it had ever reached before, and it seemed that interacting with the ghost was having other effects. The cock was darkening as ectoplasm soaked into the flesh, allowing it to push past nine inches, then eleven, then thirteen.

The vines clung on to Liam's wrists and ankles, his cock was like a lightning rod of pleasure, his eyes were clenched shut and his nipples were as hard as diamonds. The visions clouding his mind began to short circuit, blending and melding with the life that Jules was reliving. Both had held the secret that they were gay, but now Liam was getting to live vicariously through the spirit's former life, bouncing around from moment to moment, feeling the pure joy of physical pleasure, of experiencing so many different cocks, the taste of cum, and doubling down on living one's own self-identity.

After so many years of being alone, they had each found another that knew what it felt like. They had been alone in crowds, alone in society, but in that moment, they were together and they were themselves. He didn't want to be trapped to a mundane life living by anyone else's rules, forced to conform and lose who he was. In that moment he was the happiest, purest version of himself he had ever been. The weight of that loneliness fell away from Liam like unlocked shackles. The weight of everything fell away.

A deep seeded orange light erupted inside of Liam, sprouting from his brain and his loins at the same time, reaching out like vines to coil and wrap around one another. The light built brighter like a fire stoked on an autumn night. His swollen, dark cock erupted with thick, sticky, musky cum that Jules took into himself, savoring it and enjoying it... but little by little, the texture began to shift. It came more liberally, in ample supply. It was sticky yet ductile. Jules knew that texture... It was ectoplasm.

Fiery green eyes opened from behind the pumpkin mask, looking before himself. His tongue was still wrapped around a cock, but it was a rather obscenely large shaft rooted in the groin of a being of darkness and shadow. Only the edges of the creature were touched by an eerie ethereal orange light. The darkness was unseen and yet seen, leading up to a sculpted, muscled torso, strong shoulders, thick arms... As the shape led up to a neck, the darkness began to tint and change, brightening in tone like the light of a fall sunset, leading up to brilliant orange eyes and a flowing mane of citrine flames that cascaded down to the spirit's shoulders like flames. The outline of his head was wispy, highlighting the sideburns he had once been so proud of.

Jules slowly uncoiled his tongue and pulled back, getting a better view. The spirit floated a foot above the body of the metalhead. He remained on the hillside, sprawled out, tied down by vines. His body was still, motionless, lifeless. His face was peaceful, serene. Jules reached out his hand, withdrawing the vines back into the earth, using one to fold back the fly of his pants and give him some modesty. With some measure of decorum, the green spirit reached up and withdrew the jack-o-lantern from his head and set it down on the ground to watch over the body, the flames inside still flickering a bright green.

It had taken several moments to adjust, Liam moving from the afterglow of orgasm and life itself. Orange eyes opened brighter, glowing in the sea of his darkened body. He looked around and then saw Jules as he truly was, as a shade, as a spirit. Liam looked down at his new body and his rather immense cock. He reached out, pausing for a moment, seeing how brightly his arms glowed. After the hesitation, he wrapped his fingers most of the way around his cock and gave it a few strokes before he looked back at the spirit before him.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked. Even though Liam couldn't see a mouth on Jules, he could feel the smile radiating from the ghost.

"It's the most handsome, amazing, badass thing I've ever seen in my... afterlife." Jules said before he paused, "Do you?" he asked. Liam floated over, his long tail whipping behind him as he reached up a hand to caress Jules' face.

"It's a face that's hot enough to die for." Liam whispered, leaning in. As their ephemeral lips touched, their flames burned brighter and every candle and every light on the hillside seemed to pulse with vitality. There had been some part of Liam's youthful vitality that had convinced him that he would remain young forever, and in a way he had been right. Neither Jules nor Liam would ever be alone again, and in death they would be free to be who they were always meant to be. Minutes passed before their kiss was finally broken, but the two spirits entwined their fingers, gazed into each other's glowing eyes and floated down through the pumpkin patch. The night was still young, and the fire in their spirits was burning brighter than ever.