The brunette immediately planted himself onto the dirty ground, looking over just in time to see Nick spin on his heel. He planted his feet firmly before firing off the hollow points, the sound of metal hitting meat ringing through the air.

"Roll over to your left!"

El did just that, barely getting out of the way before the charger fell over onto the asphalt. He looked up at Nick again, seeing him shoulder the gun calmly before taking out a cigarette. "You alright kid?"

The hick stared, watching as he brought the fag up to his lips, clenching around the filter so he could light a match.

He cupped his hands around the little flame, protecting it from the warm putrid wind. He plucked it out of his mouth to blow out a puff of smoke. "Kid?"

He jumped, sitting up awkwardly. "Y-yeah I'm fine." He moved to stand, stopping suddenly at the increased pressure on the inside of his jeans. 'Oh…shit.'

Thank god his coveralls were baggy.

All four of them trekked to find a safe place to spend the night, Ellis awkwardly shuffling and berating himself mentally. Why would his body respond like that? There was nothing but death and blood and shooting going on around him. Things that were not sexually stimulating at all.

Something about Nick's hands though…

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Nick nudged his shoulder. "Are you sure you're alright? You've been weirdly quiet."

His face heated up considerably. "F-fine Nick really!" he said cheerfully. "Oh hey look, that house might be good!"

The other three looked over at the two story house, nodding in agreement. Once they were inside with barricades in place, Coach sat down tiredly on the couch. "Well the electricity is out, but there were some canned goods and the water's still running."

Rochelle nodded, rubbing at the kink in her neck. "There're two bedrooms upstairs and a guest one down here. We can take the guest one Coach?"

The older man nodded. "Sounds good, wouldn't want to risk my knee going up those stairs."

Ellis smiled nervously. "Well alright then, guess this is good night!" He shuffled up the stairs quickly, an awkward lurch to his gate.

Nick rose a brow, following him up slowly. "Yeah, see you guys in the morning…" his voice told that his mind was elsewhere.

What was with that hick?

Ellis closed the door, leaning against it warily.

An hour of trudging and he still was half hard.

'This just ain't right…' He went into the bathroom to splash water onto his face, hoping that it would clear his head.

It didn't work, he still ended up lying in bed fidgeting.

What the heck did Nick even do to make this happen? He just shot a zombie and smoked. Nothing more.

The grace of that spin was impressive though, almost cat like. He wondered if his legs were toned.

And those fingers, they looked so talented. Not too slender or anything, but long. He could easily see them flicking through cards and chips, easily manipulating them to his will.

He wondered what those hands would feel like in his.

'Ah dang, brain shut up!' He felt a jolt of arousal settle in his belly, making his hands clench.

He couldn't do this here.

Death and destruction laid right outside his window.

His friends were in constant danger.

One of his friends had really nice hands. Maybe the rest of his body matched them.

A pained whimper escaped him. 'Oh to hell with it…'

Ellis untied his coveralls hastily, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans just as fast. He sighed when his erection got a little more room, only stopped by his boxers. His hands played with the hem for a minute in hesitation. The door didn't have a lock on it, and Nick was in the room right next to his.

Probably sleeping with that suit jacket and blue shirt off, hanging over the bed post, exposed chest rising and falling in rhythm-

'Damn it.'

He pushed his boxers down along with his other two layers, left hand going to his prick while the other went down to cup himself.

El let out a soft moan, relishing in the touch. As his hand squeezed up to the tip, he wondered if Nick touched himself like this. Maybe his grip would be tighter, or pace faster, what did Nick even look like under those dirty white slacks?

The mental image of it had the Georgian raising his hips off the bed a bit.

His left hand trailed down a little farther, teasing his perineum. He imagined Nick touching him like this with those long fingers. Or even with those thin lips…

Just that thought had him clenching at his need tighter, stroking more vigorously than before. "Ah...nn." He tried to muffle himself by biting his tongue.

How would Nick's tongue feel on him?

"Ugh god, Nick…" he crooned quietly as pleasure gripped him by the spine, drawing out his orgasm in jerky waves.

Panting, he took his dirty hands away, staring at the off white proof of his actions. He sighed.

Then tensed up when he heard a creek in the wood.

Sitting up abruptly, he squinted into the darkness to see Nick standing in the partially opened doorway.

He gaped like a fish at the gambler.

Which just earned a smirk. "I was wondering why you were acting so weird…"

He strode over slowly, and upon closer inspection he realized that yes Nick was shirtless oh fuck.

"So El…got something to tell me?"

Upon even closer inspection, he realized that those off white slacks were a tad tented.

'Oh lord.'