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The week leading up to my period is just as annoying as bleeding itself.
Having physical cravings is almost forgettable with how short they last but that doesn’t make them any less obnoxious. It was manageable when I still had internet access or even the sliver of decent imagination after reading a saucy book, but those needs became secondary when survival takes priority on day to day life; with food, a weapon to defend myself and a safehouse being on my mind rather than finding something to get my rocks off. And yet, when I’m lucky enough to spend the night in a safe place and manage to scavenge something edible and un-perished, I’m left wondering about those other needs.
"I shouldn't have thrown away that toy…" I uttered those words with a sigh, filled with regret and nostalgia. I thought of the time my friends played a joke on me by giving me a sex toy as a birthday present, it was unnecessarily large and detailed with vibrant colors so it immediately caught me off guard and had me blushing and stuttering- but I eventually dumped it in the garbage when the party ended. It's a fun memory. However, I felt melancholic thinking about my friend group, so I turned over in the sleeping bag and shut my eyes for the night hoping they evacuated safely.
Solitude was something I didn’t know I’d struggle to endure. Though realistically, it's for the best that I haven’t met any other survivors, I’m already used to loneliness and who knows what kind of people I’ll bump into with the current state of the city. Biological viruses tend to bring out the worst in people, I can understand they’re like me and try to survive another day but if the moment came to choose between me or them… with a sigh I roll onto my side, unwilling to think about the morality of it. I’d rather just stick to being on my own.
However, the lack of company also has its own downsides.
I was reminded of the drawbacks of being alone when a group of common infected people staggered down the street; I could hear them a mile away and took refuge behind a wall as they went. They are stumbling along the street by dragging feet, their posture slouched forward, and sway sideways as they fail to walk in a straight line. I don't need to get any closer to notice their discolored skin covered in enormous blisters and open sores from where I hid, almost gagging at the sight. It’s hard to remember they’re sick unfortunate people and not walking cadavers, but if my former companion taught me anything it’s that the second you feel pity you start holding back your punches, and when that happens… my stomach churns at the thought. For a second, I thought I could smell blood against hot pavement again, I had to raise my hand to cover my mouth just in case.
I spared them one more queasy glance, just to make sure we’re not heading in the same direction, they were like a group of ants walking together in sync at the same slow speed but within the crowd of infected there was one that moved differently. He was unnoticeable at first, because he blended that well within the multitude, but he stopped his pacing when he raised his head upwards… was he looking up? sniffing the air? I don’t what he was doing, yet it made my skin jump when he snapped his head straight in my direction and crouched down into the crowd out of my sight.
Oh shit.
I pull away from the wall and jog down a road in between abandoned houses and garages, even taking shortcuts down alleys meant for dumpsters trucks, anything to get away from the main road.
“He didn’t see me, he didn’t see me.” I repeat in delusion, but through my peripheral vision I could see a blur following me from above the house rooftops. My light jogging speeds up into a desperate run that could’ve made me a track star back in high school, turning multiple lefts and rights throughout the maze-like alley as the repetitive cinderblock patterns had me nauseous so the second I saw a hole through a fence I crawled through it and into someone’s backyard. The shift from pavement to course dirt scratched up my knees but it was a secondary issue with how fast I was kicking up dust, sprinting towards a large tree in middle of the barren dirt yard. I press myself against the tree trunk, feeling the bark scratch onto the sweaty shirt on my heaving back as my eyes scan the random shit sprawled on the ground as I look for something to use- which ended up being a lead pipe.
I tighten my sweaty palms onto it, mentally praying that I won’t have to use it.
Hoping that whatever was chasing me lost sight of me due to the tree’s foliage. And yet all that hope came crashing down when a low growl made the hairs on my body stand up in a feline like response. I raise the pipe in preparation, frantically looking back and forth for any sign of my pursuer. The shuffling of tree leaves however, had me slowly raising my head upwards like something out of a sci-fi horror flick.
OH SHIT.
He pounces at me with an obnoxious shrill, but I swing my pipe at him at just the right time.
I should’ve gotten into baseball too.
Despite his abnormal speed he’s still human, it’s apparent with how the attack stunned him for a second. Rolling onto the dirt as he shook his head once before taking his crouched position again and throwing himself at me. I smacked him again but this time he recovered in no time by flipping his body sideways and somehow maneuvering himself to land on his feet like a goddamn cat. The metal pipe suddenly felt too heavy in my arms and I threw it blindly as I make a run for the closest door in the house to my left which was an open garage, it’s an absolute mess that makes it harder for me to run with boxes, car parts and tools sprawled all over the floor, not to mention the engine parts hanging from the ceiling by lots of chains. The garage becomes too claustrophobic as I try to reach the end where an exit door should lead to the house’s interior but the clutter makes it impossible to access, it doesn’t help that the horrendous noises coming from the Hunter behind me were getting closer, it’s too dim for me to tell what got in my way but it sent me tumbling to the floor, if horror movies taught me anything it’s that it’s over for me.
This garage is going to be my tomb.
At this point I shut my eyes tight and curl up in a ball with the only thing on my mind is wishing for a quick death. But then I start thinking about my family, my friends and their shitty sense of humor, how I’ll never eat a good burger ever again or how I should’ve told that guy how I felt before the infected got to him. Yet, as the seconds passed and my thoughts kept piling up I was hit by a good question.
Why am I still alive?
My eyes slowly reopen, fearing that the last thing I’ll see is my attacker launching at me- and I did! The blood stains on his blue hoodie were recognizable from the short distance and I immediately shut my eyes again in response, but although I still hear his grotesque screeches and wails echo throughout the garage, but they didn’t move any closer. My eyes snapped apart at the realization, focusing my view on the Hunter as I pinpoint the extent of his figure within the little light that seeped through dusty windows.
Those annoying chains turned out to be my saving grace, the Hunter must’ve tried to jump through them and they tangled themselves around his extremities which now kept his arms over his head and the long ends secure his legs thanks to the weight of the loose car engine. “THANK FUCKING GOD FOR MEN AND THEIR STUPID OBSESSION WITH CARS!” I almost sob to myself, immediately climbing back to my feet and heading for the back door but no matter how much I tug, it didn’t budge open.
...Ah shit.
There’s an incessant ringing in my ear as my heart struggles to return to a normal pace. But how else can I calm down when the Hunter could break free any second? Even in my agitated state I’m frantically pacing around looking for an exit but the empty car and the random shit surrounding it take up almost half of the already tight garage, I don’t even consider the windows with how small they are; barely lighting up a portion of the space.
I’m chewing my nails at this point as an influx of ideas rush into my head. Maybe I could try to pry the door open with another tube? Or maybe I should crawl under the car or climb over it? Hell, what if I just kill the infected and duck under him?
At the thought of him I was reminded why I’m in a hurry in a first place.
I unsheathe the knife at my hip with slow, deliberate steps, the opposite of how he's jerking violently in any direction, yet even with his exceptional strength, he can't free himself. I wasn't sure why until I got close enough to see it: a sharp hook punctured through his right shoulder, where a noticeable dark stain spilled onto the fabric of his hoodie that grew larger the more he struggles. Unwilling to take any chances, I prepared to stab him in the head, but something made me reconsider. I've gotten used to his growls, hisses, and banshee-like screeches, but one sound stood out from the rest… he whimpered. Every time he tried to pull his right arm, he would wince and instinctively pull at it without success. It sounded painful, but a cursed part of my brain made me associate the lowered tone of his voice with a different context.
I despised the shiver that ran down my spine, causing me to tighten the grip of my knife.
This isn’t the time for reminiscing about the rabbit holes my hormones drive me to, they’re hidden in my search history for a reason. I need to dispose of him and escape this cramped garage, and that’s not keeping in mind how many infected might be out there in the street. Details, details.
And somehow, all this planning went out the window the second I saw the skin of his stomach peeking from underneath his hoodie that has me acting like an 18th century man seeing a woman’s ankles. Due to his arms being outstretched upwards it raised the damaged edges of his hoodie with the length of an average crop top, exposing a muscular abdomen that was enough to cause me to hesitate, biting the interior of my cheek as warmth spread through my face. Despite the unnatural skin tone, he was sporting a pair of marked abs that looked like something from a marble statue. God damn! His body is the same color as the rest of the infected, a palette of grayish tones with a few noticeable blood vessels that branch out in darken shades and pulse in a weird rhythm. I used the pointed tip of my knife to unabashedly raise the rest of his hoodie, revealing the rows of muscle lining up to his pectorals and even his obliques, though he didn't remain still long enough for me to enjoy them in the dim light.
I don’t hold back from whistling a bit. "You must’ve been an amazing runner, but they eventually outran you, didn’t they?" I asked him; I wasn't expecting a response, but I felt compelled to say anything besides listening to the racket he made. I assume his transformation must’ve been recent with how he kept most of his clothing intact, alongside the shoes on his feet.
My eyes went back to the sturdy chains. A mischievous thought had me smiling to myself as if there was a tiny devil whispering at my shoulder… and he’s making very valid points.
My knife went back into its sheath, and I make sure to tighten the chains over his head before lowering my hands to the bottom of his hoodie, my eyes raise up to his face to examine his reaction but all I see is him baring his teeth at me so I lay my dominant hand on his marked stomach, feeling the muscle struggle and flex underneath his skin due to his efforts in freeing himself from his binds. I continue with my own business without a worry since i know he won’t react any different, letting my hand travel the path that made up his opulent chest until my fingertips bump into his prominent pecs, I grab a handful of one to test it’s firmness before raising my other hand to squeeze both them as if they were my personal stress relief toys. The action tugged upwards more of his hoodie for my viewing pleasure, the dull skin of his chest interrupted by the occasional pale scar, faded stains that matched the ones on his hoodie and droplets of sweat from his nonstop attempts that has his chest heaving. I could even feel the erratic heartbeat under my palms when I continue groping his tits.
My mouth went dry during this small exploration, suspecting most of the moisture was heading down south.
It’s weird.
He rattles against the chains like a rabid animal and yet from this angle I found him, endearing. Attractive even.
“Oh man, the things I would do to you if…” I pause, a better question coming to mind. “Wait, can you even get hard-?”
I lower my touch to the intersection between his worn-out pants, patting the front of his crotch and adding pressure as I feel around for a typical male reaction. Funny enough there was a choked sound coming from the Hunter as I fondled him, he continues making his normal growls but it had him shut up and jumping in surprise whenever I give him a light squeeze, eventually feeling something twitch under my administrations.
Although shame was foreign to him, I was feeling it twice as strong for the both of us when he immediately went quiet just as I lowered the zipper to his pants. The “zzzp!” sound piercing my ears as it echoes through the messy garage. It had my face feeling hot all over again in embarrassment, raising my hands as if I just got caught stealing. “What?! Don’t look at me like that!” the shout came out higher pitched than intended, I took a moment to regulate my voice before justifying myself in front of him. “You tried to kill me earlier; I think this is fair payback.”
He responds just as I would expect, with gargled growls and attempts to bite me.
A dry chuckle died in my throat when I realized how stupid I looked arguing with an infected, but it gave me the push to continue playing in the devil’s playground.
I lowered the zipper on his pants and tugged down his boxer shorts, what sprang out of it was nothing short of impressive. Even if it wasn’t sailing with a high mast if ya know what I mean, it still gave me an idea of what awaited me if I were to pursue with what the bad influence on my shoulder told me. “I bet you were very popular…” my eyes take in the full sight of his abdomen and the path trailing downwards.
As far as the appearance of his dick goes, the color gradually shifts to a murkier shade of blueish gray than the rest of his body, with the tip being the darkest and making the clear droplet of precum on his tip stand out more. “Huh, I didn’t know you’d still have swimmers… or are they blank shots?” the question came to me at the sight of the bead, curiously tapping my index finger against it before scrunching up my nose when it stuck to my finger in an interconnected string. Wiping it on his pants with a shrug.
Another noteworthy feature was the unusual lack of hair; I assume this is due to the flu given that he didn’t have any hair on his happy trail nor his family jewels. In a moment of immature giddiness, I poke the underside of his head with the tip of my finger, and it curiously twitches upwards in response. Feeling a little more motivated, I slowly wrap my hand around the base, my palm caressing the firm bottom while my fingers brush the topside circling the evident dark veins that start appearing the more I stroke him. It didn’t go well at first with dry hands, I could feel it with the way my hand struggled to glide and he grunts in displeasure so for the sake of convenience I did the obscene gesture of spitting into my hand so my touch would slide better. He’s probably staring at me like a prime sirloin steak, it’s not the most comforting thought since he could actually kill and probably eat me, but then again, I bet my gaze is no different. My face inches closer to him, being able to still smell the sweat and the heavy musk from how much he jumps around day to day, if it wasn’t because he was covered in old blood I might’ve wanted a taste.
He's gone surprisingly quiet again, with only a few low growls dissolving into rumblings in his chest like an active beehive. My movements become more sluggish as I loosen my grip and remove my hand from him, I take a step back and admire my handiwork.
Let’s just say, he’s quite the grower.
His length is nothing too crazy with it being a bit above the average in size but the girth of him was quite generous, the chub growing nicely as I stroke him until I could wrap my hand around it and kept my fingertips from touching for about a centimeter, if that isn’t enough to give me some creative fuel tonight then who knows what will. An intrusive thought crawled up on me about how the infected would get bloated with skin bumps, wondering if that’s how he’ll end up once the flu spreads further, the unpleasant memory was suffice to turn me off and I decided it was best to end it here. At least I have some creative fuel for tonight.
I nonchalantly dry my hands on the bottom of his hoodie once more. "Well, it was fun but I have to get going." Whether it was mostly my hormones eagerly pushing me to get back home or the worry of being overrun by infected, I was anxious to leave now that I had my fun.
However, the Hunter wasn't as excited by the idea as I was; he kept jerking and tugging harder than before, spewing a lot of saliva out of his mouth while snarling in desperation. Getting fired up without closure would drive anyone insane, and it seems that this Hunter was no exception, as he fiercely tugged his right arm and tore out his shoulder off the hook before his newly released claw ripped the constraint on his other arm. My once blissful bubble exploded the second those chains hit the ground with a rattling thump. My body reacts on its own with how quickly I scramble to hide anywhere I could, which was behind a tower of boxes. All I hear is the Hunter's heavy breathing as he yells into the garage in pursuit of me; I peek over the corner of my hiding spot to see him completely free from the chains but he’s slumped over in pain, holding his arm as he recovers from the missing piece of his bicep.
I sneak from one box pile to another as I switch my view between him and the exit.
I'm hoping he won't be able to see me in this poor light; if luck is on my side, he's slower than before because of the arm injury, so if I can slip past him and make my way outside, I’ll be able to escape.
It didn't become a possibility until I caught him sniffing the air like before. For a split second I thought I’ll be able to get away due to his poor eyesight with how he’s looking for me like a blind animal. But my mistake was underestimating him like the other mindless infected because, unlike those hordes, he’s a predator and just like any predator his strength lies in his sense of smell. I was tip toeing a few feet away when he turned his head in my direction with a ravenous snarl that made me feel like a mouse that sprang a trap.
The soles of my shoes screeched against the concrete as I made a run for it, but a sudden weight tossed itself onto my back and knocked me down before I could reach the garage door.
The panic from earlier came back swirling into my stomach. My hands were at my sides as he dug the tips of his deadly claws onto the clothes on my back, he pins me down by applying pressure to my spine which constricts my chest into an aching discomfort. My thoughts turned to the knife on my leg strap but even as I try to reach for it, I stood still when I felt the Hunter's warm breath on the back of my head as he inhaled my scent through his open mouth that reeked of dried blood.
I was reminded of those sharp canine teeth whenever he shouted at me, suddenly the prospect of having them rip my jugular didn’t seem too far off so I tried to stay still as if to prolong my fate, instead he lowered his jaw to the back of my head and I could hear how he took a long sniff of my hair. I hold back from making a noise as he digs his face deeper into the nape of my neck and an unnerving eagerness.
His behavior is abnormal. But then again compared to other infected people he’s more animalistic. And most animals smell their food before eating them, don’t they?
The Hunter continued to sniff a few different angles of my head, taking short, spaced-out whiffs of me, as though he was trying to figure out what I was. Which made sense given his weak eyesight. Time slowly drags on as I try to lay motionless and fight the growing panic that’s clutching my stomach in tight squeezes with each heartbeat. I'm scared of upsetting him by reacting too quickly, but I'm equally anxious about which intake will be the last before he gets cranky and rips my guts out.
But even through this struggling fear that I inch my hand closer to the knife every time he’s nostrils are distracted by my scent.
Just as my fingertips brush the handle and I anticipate him to draw back, he does something unexpected and raised his head away from my hair. The rough skin of his cheek grazes against mine as he lowers himself closer to the side of my face, the bloody smell of his breath causes me to gag involuntarily, and yet when he takes a long, drawn-out lick on my cheek, it's as if my brain crashed out on me, and I didn't notice when he licked me again. The pent-up fear and anxiety was like a rope that finally slipped past my weaken hold and a horrified cry scraps past my vocal cords which had me kicking and squirming uncontrollably.
Just as I thought, he’s unhappy with my response but rather than delivering a killing blow he grips the sides of my body to lift me up before smacking me back down with a high growl and rolling me on my back. A warning, I think to myself, and I tense up as my limbs remain obediently still. Naturally the panic lingers in my stomach as I lay beneath him, dreading the pain that awaits me, but he keeps delaying my execution as he continues to smell me like I'm some kind of freshly cooked steak. Not only that but his breathing becomes labored, though not in the same way when he was in pain earlier, but instead it’s deeper whenever he releases heavier gasps.
The Hunter followed a trail down my body, taking lengthy intakes of my neck, chest, and my ribcage. It’s a bizarre sight that left a pleasant buzz against my skin every time he lowered himself to where the warmth of his breath tickles me through my clothes, he indulged himself with every inch of me, savoring my scent, his lingering touch leaving imaginary squeezes as his hands move around groping me with passive vengeance… Hell, it didn’t even register to me that I had the knife in my hand until my fingers felt numb with how tight I held it. Despite the messed up enjoyment I was getting from his attention, I finally raised the knife over my head and prepared to strike, that was, until he reached past my navel. After smelling the area surrounding my groin, the Hunter stopped and suddenly grabbed my thighs as he pulled them apart, pressing his face farther into my crotch and taking a longer whiff compared to any other part of my body.
It had my face heating up faster than a tea kettle and spreads embarrassment through every fiber of my being. In that moment I forgot about the knife along with any sense of caution and reacted like I normally would. Rookie mistake.
“You dirty-!” I tried to sit up, but my sudden outburst agitated the Hunter and he responded with a louder snarl. True to his warning, he shoved me with enough force that my body thumped against the ground, knocking the knife out of my hands and leaving me with an uncomfortable headache that made me want to throw up. The only sounds coming from me were a slight wheeze and an irritated groan. No matter how many times I blinked to adjust my vision, it remained blurry, so I lay there for a while trying to focus on the random shit hanging from the garage ceiling.
Because of this inconvenience it’s no wonder it took me a moment to register the warmth of the Hunter's breath fanning over me, even pulling my legs apart to press his face between my crotch again. The tip of nose brushing against the clothed, but still sensitive, bud.
Is this karma coming back to bite me in the ass because I groped the Hunter? God, I hope not.
Once the nausea subsided, I bend my elbows as support to slowly lift my upper body with slow and cautious movements so I can get an idea of what the Hunter was doing. When my eyesight returned, I saw him nestled between my legs with his hands gripping either side of my thighs like something out of an adult film. It was impossible to tell what he was doing besides smelling me, but I started to understand what was going on when he opened his mouth on the crotch of my pants and ripped the fabric away to exposed the interior skin of my legs and the underwear. I didn’t know what was more shocking, the action itself or the growing intention behind it. The ripped seams tickled the delicate skin that connects my legs to my pelvis as his hot and humid breaths mouth breach through the thin fabric of my underwear, it has me squirming in the spot as the anticipation gnaws my stomach with both a fearful and eager twirl.
“Didn’t your mother teach you not to play with your food?” I complain halfheartedly, trying to regain any sense of dignity.
Like the rest of his extremities, his tongue is blueish gray. It dangled between rows of sharp, crooked teeth as his breaths grew louder and lowered themselves perilously near the sole item of clothing that kept the Hunter's eyes away from my intimate body part. He growled at the flimsy piece of clothing, yanking it off faster than he did my jeans, but the elastic around my thighs left a stinging sensation that involuntarily sent shivers down my spine.
This isn’t the first time pain was intertwined with pleasure with him.
Despite the harsh sting, it was nothing but a secondary thought when I witnessed him lick my slit upwards with his tongue remaining firm and steady, what impressed me was how slow and intently he took his time to savor everything. Almost like a lover would.
I exhale a nervous laugh through my nostrils, and here he was trying to kill me half an hour ago.
Even though I struggled with the thought of an infected eating me this way, my body reacted as usual, sending pleasant jitters pricking through the surface of my skin as his tongue repeated the motion again but when he reached the top of my mound there was this quick second where the tip of his tongue grazed my clit and had me gasp in surprise, releasing the breath I was holding as a longing sigh.
If his sense of smell was as good as his sense of taste, then he must’ve taken a liking to me when he drew back, mouth still open and strings of saliva stuck to his chin with that low rumbling in his chest.
He stood back up and I noticed his dick was just as lively as how I left him, large, veiny and dripping with it curving slightly to the left as he now straddled me, it’s just as flush as the dark shade spreading over the lower portion of his face from under the hood that hid any semblance of eyes from my view. Even if I couldn’t see him face to face I now understood what he wanted, and the last shreds of reasoning made me reconsider fighting back. If I had to choose between getting railed or ripped to pieces by this infected, then it’s obvious what option I’ll pick.
At least he’s hot.
He flipped me on my stomach without warning that scratched my cheek against the pavement but even if I laid down it didn’t lessen my dizziness with how I felt the floor tilting sideways like a rocking boat.
It's not like I could verbally communicate anything to him either way because he unceremoniously lifted my hips as he readjusted himself between my legs in a way that would grant him easier access, I can tell he’s desperate with the way he bucks forward and lacks precision, smearing the rest of his pre over the front of my mound as he brushes just an inch away from his mark. He was starting to get frustrated with how he huffs in deep snarls and considering how I’m just passively laying there getting teased every time his tip brushes against my already sensitive clit, fuck, so am I.
If there was any proof that I'm just as desperate, it was when I grabbed his length from behind me and aimed it in the right place as he moved forward, causing me to yelp in surprise when I felt his chest crash against my back with an unexpected force that knocked the wind out of my lungs, backed up by the breathlessness caused by the sudden fullness in my nether regions.
I didn't have the chance to process the mix of odd sensations when he drew back then lurched forward against me, leaving me to use my forearms for support due to his movements rocking my body. He has no sense of rhythm, no sense of buildup, nor the patience to start with a slow pace that gradually speeds up, just a lack of passion in general- instead there’s this raw and insatiable urgency, an undiluted mixture of hormones as he gives it his all and doesn’t slowdown in the slightest, he’s animalistic in every sense of the word. The Hunter’s relentless pace barely gives me the chance to understand what I’m feeling as I spat out short gasps and whines that keep my mouth open, what sensations I can make out is the painful prick of his claws on the squishy side of my thighs, this enjoyable feeling of being stuffed full, the ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ good part that doesn’t last long with how fast he seems to pass it, my embarrassment comes back when the sound of my gasps combine with the sloppy thumping of his pelvis yet it burns and lingers in my mind like an catchy song on the radio.
The only thing I can grasp is that- no matter how chaotic it is, the entirety of this ravenous frenzy satisfies a perverted side of me with how it builds up a delicious flush in my tummy that extends through my extremities.
A quench to a thirst I was unaware of.
It's only been a few minutes and I hear a convoluted mix of choked growls interlaced with a high pitched whine as the Hunter stills himself suddenly, I snapped out of my momentarily shocked trance to get a read of my body. My abdomen aches, not used to how my body flexed involuntarily with the occasional pleasurable jerks, contrasting how the forearm of my dominant arm was scratched up with the rough movements, and although I can feel the wetness between my legs I had yet to feel the satisfaction of my own release so if anything this was nothing more than a foreplay… which felt, oddly disappointing and frustrating.
If I’m going to be used like a flesh light I might as well chase my own fix.
I could feel the Hunter readjusting his grip on my waist as he prepared to go another round, still full of energy. Before he could get back to his usual pace, I lift my upper body in an effort to change my position; he wasn't pleased with the idea, given how he slowed his pace to tighten his grip on my hips as if to prevent me from getting up. The Hunter kept me in place, not fully applying the pressure to push me down but still squeezing me to remind me of the strength difference; the message was subtle but understandable. Submit. At the sight of my resistance, he began growling like a guard dog with a warning. I fought off his deep tone, slowing down my attempt before stopping completely as I reconsider. Knowing his preference for brute force, I refrained from doing anything excessive that could set off his grouchy mood and cut this whole thing short. However, I still needed to communicate that this endeavor wasn't over but that I wanted a change. It's a sticky situation because I doubt he can understand anything I tell him, but there's gotta be a way to get it through his thick skull…
From my peripheral vision I could see the streaks of dried blood in place of a pair of eyes which renewed the fear I felt earlier, the adrenaline returned in small bursts as I became keenly aware of small things from up close like the twitch of his nostrils whenever he exhales, his excessively fast heartbeat pulsing from where our bodies connected, and the cold trail of sweat drops ran from my temple to my neck as I wracked my brain for any ideas. I might have gotten lucky, but that didn't mean I could go too far.
The Hunter, irritated with my lack of mobility, pulled back to pick up his momentum and attempted to push me back down on all fours. "Wait," I start but he didn’t want to hear it. One of his clawed hands reached up to my throat and gave it a warning squeeze that fueled the already active adrenaline in my system, out of all the things running through my head, it reminded me of those national geographic documentaries where a lion would grab a lioness by the scruff on the back of her neck. It’s a weird thought to have at a time like this, but it gave me an idea.
I attempted to face him as best I could, even if I struggled in his hold. He tightened his hand once more as if trying to keep me at arm’s length but I pushed forward the best I could and licked his snarling mouth with exposed teeth and gums and all, he paused for a moment and I redid the action with a more languid pace starting from his chin all the way up to the bottom of his nose. As awkward as it felt, I try to find familiarity in the action.
Besides the rancid aftertaste of his dried blood, it’s no different from licking up an ice pop with how I close my eyes to let my tongue drag over the lower portion of his face, reopening them to see the glistening trail of saliva.
The Hunter’s once permanent sneer shifted to an unintelligible expression. He tilts his head as in thought, which I hope he’s connecting the lick I gave him to match the one he did to me earlier. There’s this growing tension whenever I can’t predict his next move, the closest I’ve been able to associate his bizarre antics is with a predatory animal and yet it’s these moments where he does things that remind me he was once human, or well he still is, but it’s lost within this amalgamation of instincts and infection.
The stained hand on my neck moved to grasp the bottom of my jaw, tilting my head upwards as he lapped hungrily at my lips, the surprise of it parted my mouth open in a whine as I instinctively returned the motion and had our tongues ravel with zero regards to taste. Only focusing on how good it feels to just shut off my brain and indulge.
All of this is partially new to me so there’s this feeling of nervousness that follows me with every previous action, but open mouth kisses is something I can easily wrap my head around and turned out to be the missing puzzle piece that connects everything. The familiar stimulation tweaks the feel-good sensors in my brain and the response is pretty much automatic, it heats up my body and relaxes my muscles, the need to continue this endeavor and fuel those pleasant sensations became stronger like the building crescendo of an epic musical.
Although there’s no romantic intent behind it, I can’t help but compare this as the closest thing to a kiss.
The Hunter was much more malleable with how I threw my weight to the side and he followed behind me like a big spoon by possessively wrapping his arms around my waist, caging me as I lay on my side raising my leg and bend it by the knee over the back of his hips as he began to fuck me with renewed vigor.
I relished that feeling of being stuffed full again, but this time the sensations were much more comprehensible.
Although the change of position was an improvement from earlier compared to how I was scraping my arms against concrete, there’s still the challenge of finding a steady source of pleasure with his lack of rhythm. It’s like there were moments when he hit that one spot that had me squealing but he would miss it just when my own pleasure was building up, leaving me hot and bothered as he unconsciously edged me throughout the whole thing. Again.
Funny enough the closest thing to describe it is that he fucks like a virgin, inconsistent, self-indulgent, just bucks wildly with no sense of direction.
But that didn’t slow down the sounds coming from me that were straight out pornographic and embarrassing. There’s potential there, I just need to put in the work. My eyes shut to try and focus on matching his nonsensical rhythm as we move in and out of sync, the bursts of warmth of his breath tickles my neck as he runs his tongue over it, the edges of his teeth grazing the vulnerable skin but doesn’t pierce it. Instead, I grew uncomfortable with his fingers tightening around my thighs. I winched and flinched, trying to pull away from the increasing pressure from his claws now digging into my skin with bruising strength but his hold was immovable as he pulls me closer against his chest.
There it is again. That primal desire to just fill and be filled. Animalistic.
Though his aim was still a mess, the frequency with which he unconsciously slammed against that good spot gave me the satisfaction I had been lacking. I snuck one of my hands down to where our bodies connected and swirled my hand in familiar motions that drowned me in pleasurable waves that grew larger until they eventually came to a crashing end. The Hunter hisses behind me as the sudden tightness from my climax causes his own premature end. The well awaited satisfaction soon turned into sleepiness, but despite this, I still felt the surge of warmth down south that leaked onto my thighs.
The tranquility, however, was short-lived. He continued to prolong his climax by continuing to thrust at his own pace, but the overstimulation was soon followed by a burning sting on the nape of my neck. Although he taunted me with the thought of biting me, he didn’t go through with it until now that he’s lost in this pleasurable haze, roughly sinking those sharp chompers with enough force to provoke a trickle of blood to flow down my collarbone. A pained scream soon followed through, companied by heavy tears and pleas for him to stop. This was nothing like the previous pains he brought me, it didn’t bring me pleasure, one thing was choosing to fuck or die but knowing that death would still follow me even as I was defiled brought an undiluted fear unlike anything from these past few weeks.
When the Hunter heard my sudden painful cries, he responds in a panic and looked for the source of my distress by lying me on my back and using his sense of smell to pick up anything as I laid there cradling my wound. When his nose touched my shoulder, I went rigid and pushed him away, afraid he'd injure me again. "DON'T" I yell, and he comes to a pause for a little moment. Once again slowly connecting the dots in that numbskull of his.
I have several words to characterize the infected. Relentless, angry, and irrational, the Hunter is no different and he fits into all of these things… but despite this, he still manages to amaze me.
The noise coming from him was downright unrecognizable, but it was still clear as day. The Hunter starts whimpering, maybe even apologetically if I’m delusional enough, especially with the way he slowly inches closer after I pushed him away. It didn’t stop him as he pulls my arms apart and forcefully dips his head towards the crook between my neck and my shoulder as I sob pathetically both at the injury but also at the powerlessness he wields over me. And yet, he chooses to comfort me. The Hunter rubs his tongue over the wound, lapping up the excess blood, which quickly becomes nothing more than a splotch on my already bruised skin. It didn't alleviate the pain, but it did help ease my sobbing. As if that wasn't strange enough, he leaned forward and rubbed his forehead against mine… like a cat.
We laid there for a moment, my rapid chest slowing down to a rate that could’ve lulled me to sleep due to his weight and warmth.
It's here that I get a good look at his slightly horrifying face; aside from the worrying amount of blood where his eyes used to be and the lack of hair, his features were appealing, with a firm jawline, prominent nose, and a darken shade on his chin where the peach fuzz of a short beard would've been; he's fairly masculine, which matched his well-built body.
He caws smoothly in a scratchy voice at me, hoping to elicit a response. My vocal cords don't cooperate with me, but if there's one thing I've learned from him, it's that verbal communication doesn't work, so my attention was drawn to the wounded bicep on his own shoulder, and I lifted myself briefly to cross the distance and give it a chaste kiss, nothing too long given the still fresh blood--in fact, the whole thing was unnecessary, but I felt compelled to do it. Did it come from a survival instinct hoping to keep me alive? Or from a sense of compassion? I don't have a reasonable answer, but it seemed to work regardless because his chest rumbled again, like purring.
It didn’t take long for him to resume his licks on my lips, and I open my mouth to return the gesture into something more resembling a kiss with tongue, he’s obviously terrible at it but it’s better than nothing. Soon those kisses led to something more heated and before I knew it he was mounting me again like a feverish animal, wrapping his arms around my midriff as I raise my hips to meet his.
My ears burn at the vulgar sound I can only describe as stirring mac & cheese, but I suppose that's just how good a dick sounds. The enjoyable shivers crawled up my back every time his hips touched mine, and the bareness of his skin made unbelievably loud smacking noises whenever he collided with the obscenely lubricated part of my lower body. Never would I have imagined I’d experience it with a Hunter of all people, ideally I should be disgusted at both him and myself, I should’ve dehumanized him and let him become just another dead body in an already dying city… but within my interior I can tell there’s no regrets, especially when he makes me feel this good. How he’s rearranging my thoughts, my feelings and maybe even my guts, it’s addictive, like serving myself more and more scoops of my favorite dessert. Just as indulgent, greedy and insatiable.
I move restlessly alongside him when he finds that spot once more, doing the work of angling my hips just right that had my cries of delight grow higher as it drove me further into ecstasy. Madness even. He’s unable to stop nibbling my neck again, licking the wound as if any taste of me has become addictive to him, a delicacy only I can provide and in my lustful mind I would gladly give it to him as my heart still beats. Everything came crashing down faster than I could realize, the build up, the accidental foreplay and the weeks long pent up frustration culminated in another climax like any other he’s given me but this time it lasted longer with how he kept chasing his own high while I was riding my own, my body convulsing and twitching as I struggle to catch my breath as I remained still as I let it wash down over me like a meteor shower. Just as otherworldly.
It means everything to me.
And I’m sharing it with him, regardless of expectations towards the infected.
I cover my face with my hand at the personal admission as post nut clarity starts to take over but the exhaustion is too much for me to care anymore. And so, I succumb to sleep even as I can still feel the Hunter keep going at it, using me as much as I was using him when he was held up on those chains.
Maybe karma does exist.
___
When I awoke, the first thing I felt was an aching all over my body, making me feel heavy and sluggish to the point where my arms struggled to lift me into a sitting position. The scene around me would have seemed like an animal attack if I hadn't had my limbs attached, my tattered garments were ripped to shreds, and there was blood and loose chains everywhere, but the stench in the air was the only indication of something more illicit going on. Okay, that, and the state in which he left my body. As far as I can tell, my body is covered in bruises, scrapes, dried sweat, saliva, and cum. This caused me a great deal of discomfort, which would have been less severe if everything had been fresh. I strain my neck to make it pop, feeling how rigid my muscles were from the poor sleeping position, but when I turn around, I see the cause of my disheveled appearance. He spent the entire night snuggled up protectively around me; maybe I even used him as a pillow at one point, and he willingly cooperated. The thought made me feel warm, but I tried to ignore it. These kinds of thoughts are absurd and the sooner I return home, the sooner I'll stop having these delusions.
Standing up was as arduous a task as walking, with my joints popping into position like bubble wrap. I cringe awkwardly at the sensation of something trickling down my leg, relating it with period blood from but when I glance down and see the creamy, nearly translucent material, I know my unconventional lover had a good time even after I slept. Feeling even more irritated by him, I compared my lack of clothing to his half-dressed appearance and decided to take advantage of his slumber as well.
His hoodie isn’t exactly the comfiest nor the best smelling article of clothing around, but it suffices as I make my walk of shame back to my safehouse.
The worst of it all, was the undeniable satisfaction that brought a smile of disbelief the closer I got home and the further I was away from the Hunter. I held my face in my hands as I come to accept my part in all this. Even within the interior of my shelter, after I took a sponge bath and dressed out of that blood ridden hoodie I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, what was going to be an innocuous little secret about jerking off a Hunter derailed into a full-blown erotic and humiliating stain to my subconscious.
I am ruined.
He ruined me for other human men. How on earth am I ever going to top the ungodly, unadulterated experience of getting fucked raw by an infected? his stamina alone being something an average man could never accomplish.
As I sat there alone, evaluating my life choices under the light of a single electric lamp, there is an unusual noise that pulls me out of my thoughts; at first, I thought it was a knock at the door, but as I got closer to the door, it became evident that it was more like scratching. I peeked through the peephole, and to my complete surprise, there he was, the bane of my existence and the source of pleasures that I considered were beyond my reach. At my door stood a naked Hunter—MY HUNTER.
It was dark outside, and I barely had any vision through that small glass, but there was no denying it was him. I gripped the knife in my hand as I opened the door, and while I was half expecting him to lung for my throat, the truth was that if he wanted to kill me, he would have done so a long time ago. Instead, he moved closer to smell the bandaged side of my shoulder, released the equivalent of a low growl of affirmation before descending on all fours and crawling inside my shelter like he owned the place. "Rude..." I murmured under my breath as I shut the door and followed him.
Although his visit was unexpected and unusual, his behavior remained consistent. The dim lamp cast strong shadows all over his naked form, making it difficult to see the scars, cuts, bruises, and other marks common in the infected as he sniffed the air for a moment before reaching for his hoodie, which was piled in the corner.
He really did remind me of a dog.
I took a seat at the spot where I was having my existential crisis, now just silently watching the blind man try to slip back into the article of clothing but the nasty wound on his shoulder made it difficult as he struggle to go around it. Although I tried to hold onto my beliefs of being a lone wolf and not develop any connections while the state of the city dwells into chaos, I soon found myself going against what I thought and retrieved a med kit from the corner of the room.
“Here, let me help you.”
The Hunter remained motionless as I cleansed the hole in his shoulder where he pulled himself from the linked hook, already noticing the darkening hues and coagulated blood forming around it, as I had seen on many other infected. Even though the circumstances leading up to his companionship were peculiar, having someone around is nevertheless pleasant.
"Is this how mine will look like?" The wound reminds me of my shoulder wound, so I ask him without anticipating a response.
As much as I was overreacting and focusing more on the aspect of getting railed by a Hunter, it was only a distraction from the more serious matter of the serious consequences of being bitten by someone with the green flu. It's something I've tried to ignore, but it's becoming more difficult to do so; weeks ago, I wondered if I'd be able to reunite with my friends and family, in the hopes of returning to my usual life. But this accident has sealed my fate like a locked door, and it's only a matter of time before I change like all those other infected. My hands begin to tremble as I finish bandaging the wound, absentmindedly resting my palm on his bicep as I trail it to his chest and hold him from behind, resting my ear against his back as I hear his uneven heartbeat, which still has space for me in it. If there's one thing I know for sure, it's that he choose me as his mate and intends to remain by my side even if I change.
I tighten my grip on him as his presence makes these fantasies less absurd. Even now with how he senses my sadden mood and turns around, snuggling onto the uninjured side of my shoulder with a purr before pressing his forehead against mine.
Atleast I won’t be alone this time.