Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: This is my fill response to an unbelievably hot prompt posted on LJ at the TWD_Kink Meme community. See original chapter for full details. *Rated for: adult language, adult situations, and tired man sex. In other words boys and girls, it's Slash time ahoy!
Authors Note #2: Please read and review. I am excited to see what you all think. I am open to comments, advice, and constructive criticism. *This is just a quick, fluffy little ending to this story. I decided that I just couldn't leave it so open ended!
Prostrate – Chapter Three
He woke up the next morning to find himself completely tangled in a jumbled up ball of crumpled sheets and long, lean limbs.. His back already kicking up a fuss at the strain as he raised his head up from underneath someone's arm, it was far too early to tell exactly which limbs belonged to whom.
He was ass backwards on the thin layer of rumpled sheets and tattered sleeping bags, the tent around them in veritable disarray. With bags and hell, even his god damned crossbow lying scattered across the floor like party favors from a particularly rambunctious frat party. What the shit?
He canted his head to the side as he took it all in, eying the bolts that had slipped out of his quiver, the flinty colors standing out stark against the thin tent bottom. One of them almost covered over completely by the kid's shorts. He hadn't even heard them drop. Damn..
..He really must'a been outta' it last night..
He wriggled his toes experimentally, letting the bare digits ghost along the cool, metallic bar that tapered off into the straight edge of the crossbow stock. Taking in the smooth, unnatural glide as long lashes fluttered against the dark hollows of his tired eyes. The corners of his lips tugging upwards as the kid shifted in his sleep, turning into the curve of him as bed warmed skin seared across his skin once again.
…Lord that was tempting. ...The kid was tempting..
And for a slow arcing moment he simply let himself breathe. Letting the close air trickle in and out of his lungs like the action itself was somehow cathartic. The air was soft, body warmed and thick. Comfortable. And while he winced at the word, it didn't change the mode of the feeling. It was the only term that seemed to fit anyway.
The kid was still wrapped around him, all soft limbs and Tetris-like staying power as he slept on. Apparently oblivious to all else as his lean chest rose and fell. The movement heady, but undeniably solid as the kid's rumpled, sable haired head dug deeper into the crook of his side.
'Damn, if he could sleep that deep, he'd be dead.' He thought blandly, raising a brow as the kid only gave a soft, answering snore in response. Lips pressing against his chest with a moisture slick slide that had him stirring in ways that really had no business stirring ever again. Especially after last night.. ...Fuck... He chewed on a dirty finger nail as the sheets around his groin tented, shaking his head with a mixture of annoyance, tired exasperation, and growing lust when he realized that sheer will power wasn't going to do away with it. This was all the kid's fault..
It was a muted noise from outside that brought him back to full awareness. A soft giggle from one of the children as the sound of lightly skipping feet flitted playfully just outside the tent. Sophia. He ran a tired hand across the span of his face as he heard Dale's voice pipe up from somewhere past the fire pit, his deep voice going pitch heavy as he asked Rick a muted question.
He blew out a long breath, letting the air filter through his teeth even as he stuffed the back of his head deeper into his musty old pillow, blinking into the unexpected brightness that was filtering in through the thin nylon top. His gaze narrowed as he judged the level of light reflecting off the thin fabric. Crap. It looked close to noon already. Should'a been up hours ago..
He blinked blurrily, clearing the crud out of his eyes as he propped himself up on an elbow, stretching in place as he mentally cataloged the damage. All in all it wasn't pretty. ..Every muscle he'd ever had and forgotten about burned with resentment. Perhaps it had been the three miles of flat out running that had done it. Or maybe it was the two packs he'd been double handing the whole way through. He figured he couldn't be entirely sure.
He sat up slowly. Carefully. His mind unconsciously cataloging every ache, every twinge and slow burn as he bundled it all up in a neat little mental package to be examined and dealt with later. …Or, at least he tried to sit up.
"For fucks sakes." He thought irritably, tugging his arm out from between the kid's splayed thighs. Barely able to suppress a smirk as he rolled his eyes skyward. Yanking one of his legs back into his sole possession as the kid spread out, limbs stretching outwards as he slowly woke. Uttering a few grouchy sounds into the stillness, eyes still steadfastly squeezed shut. As if by sheer will power alone he could somehow hold off reality for just a few more seconds.
'Good luck with that pipe dream..' He snorted internally, prodding the kid to the side as he unwrapped one his thighs from the knotted up sheets. He rolled the stiff muscles in his neck. Raising his arms above his head as the elbow joints cracked, popping back into place as he leaned from side to side. Forcing himself into motion as he ran a hand through his hair, tossing the kid his shorts with single, well aimed flick of his wrist as he went.
Christ, he was tired…
From somewhere behind him the kid shifted, legs scissoring slowly in the balled up sheets even as he leaned forward, fishing through the mess of shucked off clothing at the base of the bed. Pointedly ignoring the growingly obvious fact that he was probably giving the kid one hell of a show…
Now where the fuck were his shorts?
"I am never moving again." The kid said emphatically, as if in response to his actions. His voice muffled and waffling up from somewhere in the vicinity of his third rib and the curve of his shoulder, clearly trying to suave off wakefulness for as long as humanly possible. He just shook his head. He was sure that if he let him, the kid would sleep the whole damn day away. Or what as left of it anyway..
He just looked back at Glenn with an eyebrow raised, watching the kid burrow deeper into the multicolored mound. Seriously entertaining the idea of grabbing his canteen and dousing the man with it, just to see how high pitched the kid would squeal. After all, this whole predicament was the younger man's fault.
But to the kid's credit he simply stared back. Dark eyes squinting back at him as the man met his gaze head on. Apparently unaware that he looked absolutely ridiculous, with his sable hair flattened on one side and spiked up on the other. All else considered, the kid was a hot mess of love bitten lips and partially dried sweat. With the shallow dips of his small hips all but glowing amidst a muted mess of hand print bruises and half finished hickies.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, letting his gaze stray down the length of the kid's chest. Tongue slipping out to wet his lower lip as dusky little nipples perked under his obvious scrutiny. The sheets already barely covering the kid's middle, rippling even as he watched, stirring with undeniable interest under the thin layer fabric as the kid himself began squirming against the pillows. …Damn.
And like a bolt to the fucking chest, that was the moment where the kid ducked his head, staring up at him through that mussed up fringe, his eyes unabashedly asking what his mouth could not. …Not yet at any rate.
He closed his eyes against it, but even then it was only for a moment, canting his head to the side as he dropped his jeans back on the tent floor. Letting them drop with a pointed slump of dirty fabric and the metallic clank of a stray belt buckle. The kid always had been a persuasive little fuck.
And with that rather tantalizing thought, he dove back under the mound of covers, man-handling the kid back into the curve of his side as surprised laughter blossomed in the close space. …And for a long time thereafter, that was all that was said on the matter. …The both of them leaving words behind in favor of appreciative murmurs and lazy, hitching sighs…
After all, what was the point of the end of the world if you couldn't have a bit of a lie in?..
A/N: Thanks for reading. This story is now complete. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love!
"The natural man has only two primal passions, to get and beget." ~William Osler