Cravings of the Dead
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
2,457
Reviews:
34
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
2,457
Reviews:
34
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter 7.
Basseygirl: I'm glad you like it :D
I honestly haven't ever read any zombie slash either, though I've seen some very lovely art of it here and there. Wish there was more though.
Bambi4real: We'll just have to wait and see won't we :)
KatFO: Thank you :3
Kat: Awww, thanks for the ego rub... now where did I leave my deflater.
M-K-la: Thank you! I'm glad I could get your interest, especially since it's not your usual taste. :)
Sharp cracks of thunder woke him suddenly. His muscles tensed in instinctive alarm, and with a groan he was forced to relax them immediately. Pain as he had not felt in a quite a while assaulted his senses. Cringing he curled in upon himself trying not to moan.
A small wince and whimper caught his attention.
His eyes fluttered open and he stared blearily at the source of warmth, which was in danger of being squashed to death against his chest. He quickly released it from his grip and observed with mild interest how its breath hitched and it buried its head into his chest.
He winced at the way the friction of the coarse hairs smarted the fresh wounds, but ignored it in favor tor the soothing feel of one of its arms curling up to drape loosely over his waist.
A faint smile played on his lips unbeknownst to him as he reached out and dragged his treasured warmth close again.
~*~
The smell of blood surrounds me, penetrates me to my very soul, as I walk down the blinding white hallway of the hospital. I stop at an indistinctive grey door; my hand reaches for the knob automatically. I’m screaming inside not to go in, but my body is not my own. Mechanically I enter the room and walk towards the lone hospital bed in the center of the room.
Dread washes over me as I gaze down upon the slowly breathing figure under the covers. Every night my dreams lead me here, reliving the worst nightmare my waking eyes have ever seen, and dramatizing it beyond what I can bear.
“Brian?” I whisper carefully.
The pristine sheet disappears from his face and he blinks up at me lazily. A smile graces his face and he lifts up a weak hand to me.
I grasp it before I can give it a second thought.
“Whyatt,” His voice is so fragile. “Stay forever?”
“Ever.” My mouth promises without my consent.
Now I sit by his bed, laying my head on his lap, gently stroking his hand. His other hand finds its way into my hair, messing with the locks absently.
Words begin to spill from my mouth, assuring him that he will get better, that it’s just a normal virus; not the virus, doctors will find a cure, I’m sure of it.
But neither of us believes these words, maybe once, but I know otherwise now.
His movements still now, his flesh grows cold. I beg him to stay with me, desperately recalling our countless promises, along with all the joyful memories we’ve shared. I beg him to get better.
I know he won’t.
Time crawls by slowly, my subconscious mind making it feel, quite accurately, like days. Days of mindless babbling; bringing up painful memories and deepening dread.
Finally I can feel his fingers twitch lightly, and as always, I hope this time it won’t be,
But it is.
He looks so human; sick yes, but alive.
I know he isn’t. The beautiful brown eyes that once always looked at me with such warmth, be it in love or irritation, are now empty, glazed and flat.
His stare is hungry, and not the kind of hunger I’m used seeing in them. Drool slides down his chin from the pale lips I’ve kissed so often.
Once I ran away from the site, screaming.
Since then I’ve been leaning forward every night. I should have died that day.
His arms gather me up in a mockery of a hug, and I mentally try to prepare myself for the nightmare that haunts even my waking hours.
Without wasting a second he sinks his teeth into my flesh. Pain laces through my body, but I can’t scream, I can’t move. I can only stare into those soulless eyes that won’t even see me.
A choked sob escapes my throat.
“Brian.”
And suddenly there’s another beside me. A deep growl alerts me of his presence. His eyes are fixated on us, focusing his fury on Brian. His growling is getting louder and louder, until he’s nearly roaring with teeth bared.
Brain pays no heed and continues to feast on my flesh. And suddenly his mouth is torn from me, his neck bent back and the next moment it is his throat that is being feasted upon.
Shocked I stumble away, eyes fixed on the carnage. As the zombie devourers Brian his head lolls to the side, dead eyes fixed on me. Limply his mouth moves up and down, as though he’s still chewing on my throat.
“Stay forever.”
I scream.
~*~
A scream pierces the air and green eyes shoot open instantly. They skim over the human form that’s quickly crawling away form him and scan the room thoroughly, blinking against the sharp sunlight. He strains his ears in an attempt to make out any other noise then the human's infernal screaming.
After straining his senses for a few seconds he is grumpily concludes that it is, yet again, a false alarm. He looks blankly at the boy as his screeching rises to a new pitch of panic. Rolling his eyes he realizes the boy is apparently freaking out because of the blood smeared all over his face and chest.
Thoroughly annoyed he closes his and attempts to ignore the panicked human and go back to sleep. Humans really are a piece of work, freaking over every little thing. It’s not even his blood.
A minute shiver passes through his body, but he barely acknowledges the cold he’s been feeling for the past few hours or more.
A/N: I changed the description a bit since this story is moving differently then I originally intended.
AN II: To clear up some confusion; the center piece, told from Whyatt's perspective, is a dream mixed with memory. So some parts actually happened once, and others didn't. I'm not going to tell you what's real and what's not though. X3
I honestly haven't ever read any zombie slash either, though I've seen some very lovely art of it here and there. Wish there was more though.
Bambi4real: We'll just have to wait and see won't we :)
KatFO: Thank you :3
Kat: Awww, thanks for the ego rub... now where did I leave my deflater.
M-K-la: Thank you! I'm glad I could get your interest, especially since it's not your usual taste. :)
Sharp cracks of thunder woke him suddenly. His muscles tensed in instinctive alarm, and with a groan he was forced to relax them immediately. Pain as he had not felt in a quite a while assaulted his senses. Cringing he curled in upon himself trying not to moan.
A small wince and whimper caught his attention.
His eyes fluttered open and he stared blearily at the source of warmth, which was in danger of being squashed to death against his chest. He quickly released it from his grip and observed with mild interest how its breath hitched and it buried its head into his chest.
He winced at the way the friction of the coarse hairs smarted the fresh wounds, but ignored it in favor tor the soothing feel of one of its arms curling up to drape loosely over his waist.
A faint smile played on his lips unbeknownst to him as he reached out and dragged his treasured warmth close again.
~*~
The smell of blood surrounds me, penetrates me to my very soul, as I walk down the blinding white hallway of the hospital. I stop at an indistinctive grey door; my hand reaches for the knob automatically. I’m screaming inside not to go in, but my body is not my own. Mechanically I enter the room and walk towards the lone hospital bed in the center of the room.
Dread washes over me as I gaze down upon the slowly breathing figure under the covers. Every night my dreams lead me here, reliving the worst nightmare my waking eyes have ever seen, and dramatizing it beyond what I can bear.
“Brian?” I whisper carefully.
The pristine sheet disappears from his face and he blinks up at me lazily. A smile graces his face and he lifts up a weak hand to me.
I grasp it before I can give it a second thought.
“Whyatt,” His voice is so fragile. “Stay forever?”
“Ever.” My mouth promises without my consent.
Now I sit by his bed, laying my head on his lap, gently stroking his hand. His other hand finds its way into my hair, messing with the locks absently.
Words begin to spill from my mouth, assuring him that he will get better, that it’s just a normal virus; not the virus, doctors will find a cure, I’m sure of it.
But neither of us believes these words, maybe once, but I know otherwise now.
His movements still now, his flesh grows cold. I beg him to stay with me, desperately recalling our countless promises, along with all the joyful memories we’ve shared. I beg him to get better.
I know he won’t.
Time crawls by slowly, my subconscious mind making it feel, quite accurately, like days. Days of mindless babbling; bringing up painful memories and deepening dread.
Finally I can feel his fingers twitch lightly, and as always, I hope this time it won’t be,
But it is.
He looks so human; sick yes, but alive.
I know he isn’t. The beautiful brown eyes that once always looked at me with such warmth, be it in love or irritation, are now empty, glazed and flat.
His stare is hungry, and not the kind of hunger I’m used seeing in them. Drool slides down his chin from the pale lips I’ve kissed so often.
Once I ran away from the site, screaming.
Since then I’ve been leaning forward every night. I should have died that day.
His arms gather me up in a mockery of a hug, and I mentally try to prepare myself for the nightmare that haunts even my waking hours.
Without wasting a second he sinks his teeth into my flesh. Pain laces through my body, but I can’t scream, I can’t move. I can only stare into those soulless eyes that won’t even see me.
A choked sob escapes my throat.
“Brian.”
And suddenly there’s another beside me. A deep growl alerts me of his presence. His eyes are fixated on us, focusing his fury on Brian. His growling is getting louder and louder, until he’s nearly roaring with teeth bared.
Brain pays no heed and continues to feast on my flesh. And suddenly his mouth is torn from me, his neck bent back and the next moment it is his throat that is being feasted upon.
Shocked I stumble away, eyes fixed on the carnage. As the zombie devourers Brian his head lolls to the side, dead eyes fixed on me. Limply his mouth moves up and down, as though he’s still chewing on my throat.
“Stay forever.”
I scream.
~*~
A scream pierces the air and green eyes shoot open instantly. They skim over the human form that’s quickly crawling away form him and scan the room thoroughly, blinking against the sharp sunlight. He strains his ears in an attempt to make out any other noise then the human's infernal screaming.
After straining his senses for a few seconds he is grumpily concludes that it is, yet again, a false alarm. He looks blankly at the boy as his screeching rises to a new pitch of panic. Rolling his eyes he realizes the boy is apparently freaking out because of the blood smeared all over his face and chest.
Thoroughly annoyed he closes his and attempts to ignore the panicked human and go back to sleep. Humans really are a piece of work, freaking over every little thing. It’s not even his blood.
A minute shiver passes through his body, but he barely acknowledges the cold he’s been feeling for the past few hours or more.
A/N: I changed the description a bit since this story is moving differently then I originally intended.
AN II: To clear up some confusion; the center piece, told from Whyatt's perspective, is a dream mixed with memory. So some parts actually happened once, and others didn't. I'm not going to tell you what's real and what's not though. X3