Hello, everyone. Now, before I go about doing ANYTHING else, I should explain myself.
This USED TO BE the first chapter of my dead fanfic, Calendar Romances. I just kept thinking about how many people loved this chapter and how long it's been since I've posted ANY reading material, so this "walk-down-memory-lane" fic is a reminder that no, I'm not dead and yes, I'm still doing something and thinking of you all. Now on to the boring stuff.
Disclaimer: Everything is the property of Valve to include the Smoker, Hunter, and Common stock characters. The Immunes, while many of you can guess who is who, have no names so I will leave it at that.
Warning: This is rated M for Mature content, to include language, violence, and sexual content. This is also a yaoi (MalexMale). If you took the time to read this, I'm guessing you liked it, which is good, or have something productive to say, which is also good. If you have neither, leave now. If you are not of legal age and may try to blow the whistle on me should you get apprehended with this material, leave now. Final Warning.
For everyone else who is still here, enjoy the show. *lights fade and story begins*
New Year's Day
"3...2...1...HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
He watched from his perch about a quarter-mile away from where the colony of survivor had gathered. They had, over time, built a near-impenetrable fortress. The structure was easy to relocate, so they always had a barrier keep the immune in and the Infected out.
It bothered him greatly, to smell the blood running through their veins but not be able to capture one and taste that crimson elixir for himself. It was growing on him, the pain from being tantalized so damn much. And, as if to add to his troubles, he was beginning to grow a sexual frustration that kept him up late at nights.
There were a few women traveling with the much more experienced males that looked ripe in their lives. It was a large group of seven:two women, five men. They all knew how to shoot, and they could kill the Steroid-Pumping Monkey, or Tank, in a matter of minutes. A few times, he saw one of the girls stumble and was ready to take aim when a bullet shot by his head.
He coughed softly into his sleeve, making sure the noise didn't echo and alert the celebratory group. He could smell the food they were cooking, and it made his stomach churn and growl at the same time. They took some things out of a suitcase they had found and lit them, running as the items shot into the sky and exploded into a light-and-color show.
"They must be so sure of themselves. Just because th-" the smoker stopped to cough once again, "-they're in the middle of a forest doesn't mean they won't attract Infected."
He sighed, watching the lights, a small part of him wishing he could join into their celebration. But, that was all it would ever be: a fucking wish that would never come true as long as he was a child of Hell.
Amidst the sudden blasts of light and sound, a single hooded creature was creeping along the other side of the large clearing that seemed to drag on for miles. It turned in the direction of the smoker and seemed to acknowledge his presence. He just watched as it creeped out into the open, heading for the end of the barrier.
It was a fence, one that had barbed wire over the top and was electric. The survivors had even created a removable roof made of sheets of metal that they had been able to piece together in a fashion to where it could be folded into a very thick square-foot block. The fence had an electric generator that ran searing voltages through the crisscross metal. It had enough electricity to bring down a Tank in a matter of 40 seconds on high power. The way they kept the batteries juiced up was to run wire coated in plastic from the fence back to the generator, recharging the machine and making it immortal.
The hooded creature approached carefully, hiding in the shadow of the tents the survivors had up. It reached out a claw to touch the metal when the smoker decided to take action. He took careful aim and shot out his tongue, snaring the hoodie seconds before imminent death. It opened its mouth to shriek in surprise, but the smoker worked fast, pulling the creature out of harm's way.
Once he had the Infected by him, he unwrapped his tongue and saw the thin white woman in the group look through the chain-link fence. His pants grew unbearable tight on his groin.
"What the fuck?" the hoodie hissed, still out of it.
The smoker groaned, ignoring the other. He watched the woman turn back and he stared at her ass, his pants hurting even more.
"Hey! Fucker!" The hoodie shrieked in his ear. "You got a dick down your throat? No? Then pay me some goddamn attention!"
The smoker turned. "My name is Damon, and I just save your damn life."
"What you did was keep me from my feed! I was gonna get me some of that hot ass in there when your creeper rope snagged me and dragged my ass all the way over here!"
Damon glared at the hoodie, his beige eyes piercing the light blue pair before him.
"You apparently haven't been around these parts long."
"That's none of your business. I want you to tell me why the fuck you kept me from my catch."
Damon looked out and saw what he was looking for. A common infected had traveled towards the lights and sounds. The immune survivors payed it no attention, but the hoodie watched it, curious as to what not only caused the survivors to drop their guard but also what had Damon so on edge.
The infected sauntered towards the fence, able to smell all of the delicious aromas that lay on the other side. It made no noise, trying to sneak in and out as quickly as possible. It reached out with a blood-covered hand and came in contact with the metal.
Suddenly, there was a large spark and smoke and the scent of burning skin filled the air. Damon waited for the corpse to fall to the ground before snaring it and bringing it over, more for a meal, but also to show the hoodie what the fence had done. The hoodie stared at the body, shocked beyond belief. He knew that the fence was meant to keep Infected out, but it seemed to do too well of a job.
"Yep," Damon replied, ripping off an arm and sinking his teeth into the muscle and tissue. The growling in his stomach settled. "Now, if I wasn't so bored outta my mind, I'd be eating you right now."
The hoodie reeled. "You sick freak!"
Damon shrugged. He could care less what the hoodie called him. Not like it mattered much. All that mattered was food and the burning need to get rid of his boner ASAP.
"My name isn't 'kid'. It's Nate."
"Whatever. You gonna eat?"
Nate picked a leg and bit into it, the blood running down his chin. He was wary of Damon, the smoker having shown how sneaky he was, and how much of a stalker. But, with two fine pieces of ass not so far away, who could blame him for waiting around?
But, something about the smoker had him relaxing, and feeling really strange. Maybe it was hunger pains; he hadn't eaten a decent meal in almost a week. Maybe it was because this smoker was the first Special Infected that he had come in contact with that could hold a fucking conversation other that "hunt, eat, kill".
Maybe, Nate pondered, it was the fact that Damon didn't look so bad. The smoker had clawed off what might have been a mass of boils that other smokers carried and had grown his hair out to cover the scars. He had both eyes, but one was visibly healthier than the other. He looked normal as long as his tongue was gone from sight. Hell, Nate had to admit that he looked...almost sexy. Shit! Nate clutched the leg of meat closer to him, feeling himself grow a bit. He growled in disgust. He was not gay! He may have dated a couple of guys before the infection, but to hell if he were to go back now.
"What's wrong? Found a worm or something?"
Nate shook his head and tried to keep eating. His eyes wandered to Damon, who was lying against a tree, eyes trained on the fireworks. The explosions showed he had blond hair like his "cousins", but he wasn't constantly covered with green smoke. It also seems that he's tried to look less like a smoker and more like a survivor. He had dawned a black jacket and work boots. They looked clean. Hell, he looked clean. He must try to bathe every so often.
Damon was tall, at least a full head taller than Nate himself. It made Nate almost like Damon more, just the sole fact that this stranger had more height. He was weird like that. His eyes traced the stranger, finding every dip. The smoker wore a muscle shirt, which had Nate purring deep in his throat. His pants were form-fitting, but not skinnies. And it looked like Damon was already excited. That caused the erection that Nate was trying to hide to grow even more.
"Damn," he hissed, trying to keep Damon from noticing.
"If you don't want the leg, I'll take it."
Damon snaked his tongue over to snag the half-eaten limb from the other.
"No! Don't touch it!" Nate cried, watching the tongue with mixed emotions.
"Geez! Okay. You hoodies all act like damn dogs." Damon still let his tongue remain unraveled.
"Whatever. You always have that fucking hood over your face. I'm surprised you don't run into shit when you pounce."
"Like you're fucking perfect. That's why you have yet to catch a survivor."
"If it wasn't for me, you'd be dead right now."
At this, Nate closed his mouth and growled to himself. He had a point, dammit.
Damon pat his pockets and sighed angrily. "Forgot to get my smokes. Fuck it all."
He threw his head back and took in a deep breath, coughing into his sleeve to keep the survivors from hearing him.
"Smoking's bad for you."
"Being a nosy bitch isn't good for you, either."
"I'm not a bitch," Nate replied, no longer hungry.
"You are too a bitch. How many guys had their way with you, huh? Ten? Twenty?"
"None! I'm always on top."
"Liar," Damon pressed, the argument growing more and more entertaining.
"Who you callin' a fuckin' liar?"
Damon stood up. "Prove it. You're a weakling, a pussy. Any guy you were on top of was probably paralyzed or dead."
Nate crouched down and pounced on Damon, who rolled and kicked the hunter into a tree. The trunk almost snapped at the force. The hunter regathered his bearings and pounced again, this time succeeding in pinning the smoker beneath him for a second before he was lifted from his perch.
"Hey! No fair! You bastard! Let go of me!"
The tongue held him up to a tree. Damon stood, brushed off the dirt, and approached the pinned hunter.
"Why should I?"
"Because I said so, dickhead! Now let me go!"
The smoker came within close proximity to the hunter, who was becoming more aroused by the second.
"I don't think I will."
Damon stopped when his face was a couple inches away from Nate's. Nate stopped struggling and finally took notice that Damon's mouth was closed.
"Hey. How can you be holding me up, but your mouth is closed?"
"I have a total of six tongues. The one in my mouth is my main one, but I can control the others to an extent."
He placed a hand on the hunter's hoodie and went to pull down the zipper. Nate stared with intrigued and terrified eyes as his jacket was unzipped, revealing his bare chest to the other. The hands traced his six-pack, the fingers dipping into the curves. Goosebumps rose wherever the careful fingers touched. Nate squirmed and purred.
Damon pulled off the hoodie and discarded it. The hunter blushed lightly, his blue eyes tracing the contours of the face in front of him. He wanted the teasing to end. It was driving him up a wall and pissing him off.
"Damn you," Nate hissed in a purr.
Damon pulled off his own jacket and shirt, throwing those in the same direction as the hoodie. He released Nate, who tackled him in a heated kiss, dragging his claws carefully along Damon's chest. Nate subconsciously lowered his body onto the taller boy's and their erections rubbed against each other. They both let a moan crawl from their lips. Nate loved the feeling, longed for it, and humped the smoker once more.
Damon was hard as a rock and was ready to do more than just dry hump the hunter. He wanted to take him, fuck him senseless into the ground until he was screaming in pleasure and pain. So, he pushed up and took his position on top of the smaller, expertly unbuttoning the jeans. Nate took a quicker approach, shredding the fabric to pieces.
"What the fuck, Nate? I needed those in the morning."
"We'll find you some new ones later."
Damon grunted. "Someone's horny as hell."
Nate forced Damon back into a crushing kiss, their tongues battling for dominance until the smoker showed just how much more control he had. Nate let the appendage taste him, travel within his wet cave while his claws intertwined into the soft hair. Damon took a free hand and took a grip of the hunter's soldier, stroking it from the base to the tip slowly. Nate broke the kiss and threw his head back, moaning long and loud.
Damon stroked the moaning boy again, who bucked his hips into the grip. They did this for a moment, until the blood pulsing in his own cock made sure to let him know it wanted attention too. Nate grinned, showing sharp teeth.
"Let me help you."
Nate crawled onto his knees, pushing Damon back against a tree. The hunter stared the the twitching cock before him and he smiled even wider. He started out at the base, dragging his tongue up the shaft until he came to the slit, which was already leaking with pre-cum. He tasted the liquid, enjoying how strangely savory it was. His eyes darted up to Damon's face. The smoker's eyes were closed, falling prey to the minstrations.
The hunter darted his tongue into the small slit of the head, then sealed his lips over the head itself, sucking lightly.
"Ah, fuuuuuck," Damon moaned, curling his fingers into Nate's hair.
Nate took more of the smoker into his mouth until he was an inch from the base. He moved back up and down, bobbing his head, sucking madly. Damon moaned, bucking his hips to try and have Nate take all of him in. Their movements sped up, Damon reaching his breaking point.
"Naaaaate," he moaned, spilling his seed down the hunter's throat. Nate swallowed most of it, the rest dribbling down his chin, mixing with the blood from earlier. "Oh my god..." Damon moaned still.
Nate removed himself from Damon with a wet pop and wiped his chin, sucking off the leftovers. He wanted more already. He looked to the other, who had a plan set in his mind.
Damon pulled Nate into a hold against his chest, having Nate sit on top of his abdomen, kissing him. A second tongue traced a trail down the hunter's back, moving for his entrance. The smoker was glad he couldn't taste with any other of his tongues besides the main one. The tip of the tongue traced around the ring of skin, eventually crawling into the opening. Nate gasped at the foreign entity inside of him, but Damon kept him in place, trying to take the hunter's mind off of the preparation.
An second tongue joined the first inside of Nate, curling in a fashion that slowly stretched his insides. Soon, a third, which had already tied itself into a good-sized knot, pushed in to join the others. Nate groaned in pain, his muscles growing taut.
"Ignore it, Nate. It gets better soon. I promise."
Nate nodded, went back to kissing the other boy, his body growing accustomed to the feeling bubbling within him. The tongues were working him over. One bumped against a bundle of nerves and he gave a small shriek, just loud enough for Damon to hear him.
Damon removed his tongues from inside the hunter.
"Okay. Are you ready?"
Nate nodded, letting a tongue wrap around his waist and lift him up. It positioned his entrance at the tip of Damon's still standing manhood.
"It'll hurt. Try not to think about it."
"Well, no dip, Sher-" His sentence was cut off by the rough penetration that had a screech ripped from his mouth.
The smoker whispered a series of apologizes, trying to keep his new lover's mind preoccupied. Slowly, he unsheathed himself from within Nate to where only his head was inside, and thrust the smaller body onto himself, groaning in the process.
The hunter was feeling a twisting mixture of pain and pleasure like nothing he had ever experienced before. The rush of the adrenaline in his body reminded him of those times he would fight less-than-dangerous survivors, two or three bullets lodging in his skin right before he pounced and made his kill, running off to claim the body at a later time.
They found a rhythm, one that started slow, following the instinctual tune in their heads. Eventually, the tune found music courtesy of the survivors, who began to play music in a speaker system, still setting off fireworks.
Neither of the boys recognized the tune, but it felt just right, like it belonged to them and only them in the whole world. Their actions sped up, matching the fast beat, and soon the tempo. Both of them were moaning in ecstasy.
"Harder," Damon grunted to his rider.
Nate obliged, pounding down onto the smoker's cock with his inhuman strength. Nate felt his orgasm starting to creep within him, but he didn't want it to end.
"Damn," Nate groaned, slowing down.
"Don't stop. What's going on?"
Nate looked down at his lover with big blue eyes. "I just...don't want it to end...not now anyways."
Damon smiled up at the smaller body and kissed him.
"It'll be fine. Do you want to switch?"
Nate nodded slowly, and Damon flipped them over, making sure he stayed within his hunter the entire time. Slowly and carefully, he began his thrusts again, staring at Nate's face with love.
"Fuck me, Damon. Make me yours. Make me yours forever."
"Oh, I will. I'll fuck your brains out, have you so goddamn sore, you won't be able to move, won't be able to breathe."
Damon planted his hands on either side of Nate's head and pile-drived him into the forest ground, staring at him with his beige eyes as he hit Nate's sweet spot over and over. Nate was a wriggling mess beneath him, moaning and screeching out Damon's name loud enough for anyone to have heard. Like they gave two shits now. Let the survivors come over. Let them see what was happening.
Damon moved faster, his hunter's walls constricting him. It felt too damn good, but he could sense the heat in his balls rising again. Nate beat him to it, spasms rocking him to the core, his seed shooting out onto their chests. His smoker thrust a few more good times into him, spilling fresh seed into his ass. Nate felt the heat hit his stomach and purred, exhausted from their escapades.
Damon pulled out of his lover and kissed him, finding what was left of his pants and boxers, pulling them on to keep out the cold. He then helped Nate put on his pants and they cuddled together underneath a tree, the smoker's large jacket draped over them both. Nate fell asleep almost immediately.
"Happy New Year," Damon whispered, still staring at the last remnants of the fireworks. He could still hear the music and made a mental note to try and find out what song they had played. His eyes, heavy from a long day, closed and he fell asleep.
Now, normally I do not do end ANs because I think I've said everything I'm going to in the beginning. But I guess I should warn all you enthusiasts that this is a ONE-SHOT and WILL NOT BE CONTINUED. *hands a tissue to the criers* Sorry, but no. No amount of pleading or threatening will change my mind. I hope you enjoyed this while it's here. I thank you for your time and patience, and I hope you delve into my other past and future works. Ta ta for now. *lights fade to black*