APOCALIPS

The world had ended two years ago, and somehow, Jesse still hadn’t died. He blamed Marcus for that. Marcus, with his stupid muscles, gorgeous face, and unwillingness to die no matter how many zombies tried to use his guts as an offal meal.

They were holed up in a half-collapsed roadside motel in Nowhere, Nebraska. The sky outside was smeared with blood-red clouds and ash. Their last meal had been nearly expired protein bars and something that might’ve been squirrel or worst—a sewer rat.

“You know,” Jesse said, examining the dust-covered vending machine near the cracked wall. “There’s a fifty-fifty chance this thing dispenses snacks or severed fingers, which one do you wanna bet on?”

Marcus grunted, prying open a boarded door with a rusted crowbar. “Better odds than usual, I call severed fingers.”

Jesse opened the outlets and sure enough there was a severed hand inside it. “Sharp intuition you have, you know if the world hadn't gone into chaos, you would have won a guessing game show.” 

“I highly doubt it.” Marcus scuffed, cracking the door open.

The room they entered was barely intact—one lopsided bed, a broken mirror, and a pile of possibly haunted stuffed animals in the corner. Jesse kicked one. It meowed and a cat ran off through a hole in the wall.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor again,” Jesse said, throwing his pack down and flopping onto the air bed. It wheezed as the air in it slowly escaped from its punctured parts.

“You take the floor,” Marcus replied, stepping over a teddy bear missing its eyes. “You snore like a chainsaw.”

“You drool like a busted pipe,” Jesse shot back, sitting up to take off his jacket and boots. 

Their glares met. Jesse sighed, throwing his boots to the other end of the room. “There’s only one bed.”

“Then don’t hog it.” Marcus told him, securing the entrance in order to avoid zombies coming in the middle of the night to eat them in their sleep. 

Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Are we really doing this? Sharing the bed like two bros about to ‘accidentally’ spoon?” He said, air quoting accidentally. 

Marcus shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time. And I don’t spoon.”

“Liar.” Jesse accused, but Marcus ignored him, gesturing that he help him secure the fort for the night. 

When they were both done, they both climbed into bed awkwardly. Jesse turned his back to Marcus, the bed creaking with his movement and weight.

They laid down silently, minutes passing, the wind outside howled violently. A zombie groaned somewhere in the distance, followed by a sound of a screeching cat. It seemed the earlier cat had landed itself in a fix. Jesse hoped the zombies wouldn’t eventually develop brains to figure out how to pick locks or pry open doors. 

He would’ve been zombie food a few months ago, if it weren’t for Marcus. He felt indebted to him, although he would’ve preferred being zombie food than running away from them for the rest of his entire life. They were constantly going to bed hungry, alert and worst of all horny.  

Jesse hadn't blown his load off in a while, they'd never had the time, or someone to do it with. He felt disturbed as his dick pressed against his boxers, he tried to adjust it but then he found himself slowly rubbing it, but when Marcus shifted next to him, he froze.

“You awake?” Jesse whispered, as he listened to Marcus breathe heavily. 

“No,” Marcus said flatly, and Jesse frowned feeling Marcus shift again, the bed groaning under his weight. 

“Hey,” Jesse muttered, “Ever think about how if we die tomorrow, we’ll never get laid again?”

Marcus frowned like Jesse had said something insulting. “You really wanna do this now?”

“I’m just saying… if we die tomorrow, I don’t wanna go out with blue balls.”.

Jesse rolled to face him while Marcus stared intently at the ceiling in silence. 

“I mean, come on,” Jesse continued, sitting up and unsure if the conversation was hitting any nerves because of how silent Marcus had gone. “It’s not like there are rules anymore. We’ve literally murdered the undead. What’s a little end-of-days d—”

Marcus cut him off with a kiss. It was deep, hungry, and tasted of the protein bar they had earlier.

Jesse made a surprised little grunt that turned into a moan as Marcus’s hand gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer into the kiss. 

Jesse bit his lip when they broke apart. “Wow. That wasn't… a ‘no.’”

Marcus shoved him onto his back and straddled his hips. “You talk too much.”

“You love it,” Jesse gasped as Marcus tugged off his shirt, revealing a scarred, muscular chest.

“You’re lucky it’s the apocalypse,” Marcus muttered, leaning down to bite at Jesse’s collarbone. “Otherwise, I’d have high standards.”

Jesse cackled, then moaned as hot lips traced a path down his chest. “Shut up, I bet this is the first time you’ve even touched another man.”

“Nope.” Marcus scuffed, his tongue flicking over Jesse’s nipple. “Second.”

Jesse’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Really, who was the first?”

Marcus raised his head and shrugged, rubbing his finger on Jesse’s nipples. “High school. Band camp. Clarinet guy.”

“Oh my God. That's so cliché.” Jesse mocked, and Marcus didn’t answer. His mouth was too busy moving lower. Jesse lifted his hips in anticipation, fumbling his own pants open with one hand while gripping Marcus’s hair with the other.

Marcus then reached into Jesse’s pants and pulled his cock free.

“Fuck,” Marcus muttered, eyeing it's size, Jesse was thick, curved and already leaking precum. “You're bigger than I expected.”

Jesse smirked, staring down at Marcus who was in awe of his dick, “Are you nervous?”

Marcus didn’t reply to him, instead he bent down and swallowed Jesse’s cock whole.

Jesse gasped, his hips bucking from pleasure. “Shit—Marcus!”

“You’re really blowing in a zombie infested motel?” Jesse gasped.

Marcus paused, staring up at him in what seemed like annoyance. “Got a better idea?”

“No. Please continue.”

And so he did. Marcus’s mouth was warm and wet, taking Jesse’s cock in deep, slow swallows that had him babbling curse words incoherently. Jesse’s fingers tangled in Marcus’s hair as his hips bucked up, in a needy and frantic rhythm. 

The moans escaping his throat could’ve easily drawn every zombie in a 10-mile radius, but he didn’t care.

The warmth, the pressure, the wet slick and slide of tongue and throat was all too much for Jesse. Marcus worked him like he was starving of cock, his hand stroked the base while his mouth devoured the rest of his curved dick. Jesse writhed under him, one hand tangled in Marcus’s hair, the other gripping the near airless mattress.

“God, yes—fuck—you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

Marcus took his mouth off his dick just long enough to say, “Once. But he didn’t taste like you.”

Jesse groaned, body trembling. He tried to warn Marcus he was close, but the man didn’t stop, he continued sucking harder and deeper, until Jesse cried out and came down his throat with a full-body shudder.

Marcus didn’t waste a drop, he swallowed every drop of him then pulled off with a smug look and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Just as Jesse laid back to catch his breath, Marcus flipped him over pulling his pants off his legs. He felt Marcus kneel behind him and heard the pop of a bottle. Soon, he felt the cold slick drizzle of something sticky, which turned around to find out was peach syrup trickling down his hole.

“What the fuck?” Jesse whispered to himself, but his hole twitched in anticipation. 

Marcus spread him open with rough, eager hands, his thumbs pressing into his cheeks as he stared down at Jesse’s twitching entrance.

“So fucking pretty,” Marcus muttered, and Jesse nearly came again from the statement alone.

The first finger pushed in slowly, stretching him. Then a second, then a third and Jesse moaned, pushing back.

“I can take it,” he gasped. “Give me all of it.”

Marcus didn’t need to hear more, he pulled out his already throbbing cock, lined himself up and pushed in slowly, inch by thick, aching inch. Jesse whimpered—he was big, so big he stretched him until he was full and nearly biting into the mattress.

When Marcus was fully in, he stayed there, forehead resting on Jesse’s back.

“This okay?” he murmured.

Jesse turned his head just enough to whisper, “If you don’t move, I’ll kill you.”

Marcus pulled back and slammed in repeatedly.

The rhythm built—hard, deep thrusts that rocked the bed and Jesse’s very soul. The headboard cracked, dust rained from the ceiling, and Jesse screamed into the pillow as Marcus fucked him like the world's redemption depended on it.

Their skin slapped against each other's as they moaned each other's names. Marcus leaned down, biting at Jesse’s shoulder and whispering filth between thrusts.

“You like this? Being used like this?”

“Fuck yes,” Jesse sobbed. “Use me—wreck me—I want all of it—”

Marcus pounded harder, faster, until Jesse was a trembling mess under him. Jesse’s cock rubbed against the mattress, every thrust sending jolts of pleasure through his nerves.

“I'm gonna fill you up,” Marcus growled. “You hear me, and you're gonna take it like the slut you are.”

“Yes,” Jesse gasped. “Give it to me, Marcus—”

Marcus came with a grunt, hips jerking as he spilled hot cum inside Jesse in thick pulses that made Jesse moan at the stretch and the warmth. 

Then Marcus reached around and stroked Jesse’s cock with his strong, sticky fingers from the peach syrup until Jesse came again. It was messy, loud, and he convulsed in pleasure beneath him.

Just as they collapsed in a heap of sweat, and semen, the bed broke beneath them.

“Shit,” Jesse laughed. “We just broke the last bed in Nebraska.”

Marcus rolled onto his back, panting. “Worth it.”

A group zombie groaned outside the window, while they caught their breaths slowly falling asleep.

Jesse turned his head. “Hey Marcus?”

“What?”

“I’d totally let you do that again. Just saying.”

Marcus reached over, pulled Jesse close, and whispered in his ear;

“I'll be sure to fuck the hell out of you.”