Stung (Zombie Gentlemen) (11 page)

“Oy! Canary boy,” he heard a whisper from the
side. By now, he was becoming used to this becoming his nickname.

“Yes?” He raised his head with a sigh. After what
Sharpe did to him, he didn’t mind being in the same room as all those other
men. Even if they couldn’t help him, he still felt calmer in their presence.
With Crunch, he would have been safe.

“It’s tomorrow.” Tompson leaned over Victor’s
bunk. He was repeating the same words to whoever agreed to come with them.

Victor’s chest tightened when he remembered his
mother’s ring dangling from Crunch’s neck as they fucked the day before. He had
to take it back and to do that, he had to find Crunch and speak to him again.
Victor felt like such a scoundrel, but he couldn’t tell him the truth, which
left him out of other options.

He could hear the others scheming by his side in
lowered voices.

“It’s going to be the west fence. Forest seems
dense down there.”

“We can climb trees if needed.”

“I smuggled a knife.”

“After dinner, right?” Victor whispered into the
darkness and got a grunt of approval.

“The guards are changing about an hour after
dinner. That’s the openin’ we need,” answered one of his partners in crime.
Victor wasn’t sure which, and he didn’t care, because all his thoughts were on
the ring, which was probably warm against Crunch’s skin. He clenched his
fingers around the pot of honey and closed his eyes.

Chapter
8

Crunch was slouching on a bench, hidden under a
heavy waterproof coat. When he was being really careful, he could even smoke,
partially hidden by the large hood. He couldn’t drink alcohol, to always be
alert, but at least the smoking calmed his nerves and filled his lungs with
warmth. The rain was finally over for the day, and he was watching the female
prisoners hang the laundry to dry in the wind. They were in a hurry as some of
the clothes were already marred by unwanted folds, which was a problem if the
garment belonged to any of the guards.

He had another little pot of honey for Victor, for
when he finds him later. Crunch couldn’t give him a big one, since it would be
hard to hide. He bit down on an apple, hoping the sweet fruit would cheer him
up a bit. Getting rejected still stung. Crunch knew that maybe he wasn’t the
freshest face out there, but he was also confident he had qualities a lot of
men found attractive.

“What d’ya think yar doin’, dumb bitch!” The
screams sobered Crunch up, and he looked at the scene playing out between the
cherry trees nearby. One of his fellow guards, Marlowe, yanked at the hair of a
worker while trying to get his hand under her apron. “Gimme that!”

“I don’t have anything!” shrieked the girl, trying
to shove his hands away. There were several other prisoners on her team, but
they were all busying themselves with the work, ignoring the commotion.

Crunch put away the apple on the bench and stood
up. Being on this farm for six months was getting to his head, as if he was
rotting on the inside. Only the thought that he was doing this for a good
reason, for bringing change in the world, made him keep up the act. But
watching this sickened him nonetheless.

Marlowe shoved the woman into the mud and took out
a hunting knife. For a moment, Crunch’s blood ran cold, but instead of hurting
her, the guard cut off her hair in a few quick moves. She cried out, yelling
her lungs out as if he just stabbed her in the chest.

“For fuck’s sake, Marlowe!” Crunch yelled and
stomped their way. “The fuck’s wrong with ya? Let the woman do ‘er job!” There
was no use appealing to the man's moral fibre, but making a prisoner less
productive was something Crunch could penalise.

Marlowe dropped the hair to the muddy ground in
disgust, and they both watched the girl clutch at the grass, trying to gather
her locks with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“She’s hidin’ somethin’ beneath that apron,”
Marlowe insisted.

With a long sigh, Crunch came closer, looking down
at the girl. “What do ya ‘ave?”

She was still sobbing, the sorry excuse for a
haircut framing her round face unevenly as she clutched the fallen locks in her
fingers. “I didn’t do no wrong!”

“Girl, show me what ya ‘ave. Ya can keep it if
it’s food.” He squinted at Marlowe, before the other guard could protest. “We
don’t want the girls to go skinny, now do we?” Crunch raised his eyebrows.

Marlowe snorted. “The others are prettier.”

The prisoner turned a tear-streaked face to
Crunch, her breasts shaking with each sob. “I... bread... mister...”

“Marlowe, do I look like I care? Let her keep the
fuckin’ bread. And you,” he spoke to her in a voice a lot harsher than he
wished to, “get on with the work.”

She sniffled, but got up to her feet, stuffing the
wet locks down her apron pocket. She looked like a boy dressed in a skirt with her
hair short and unevenly cut.

Marlowe snarled. “Ya dare to undermine my
authority, Crunch?”

“I’m yar fuckin’ boss, so yeah, I dare to!” he
snapped and pushed Marlowe’s chest for emphasis. “Just get on with it!”

“It’s not like they’re here to rest. They’re all
disposable.”

Crunch couldn’t wait to make Marlowe ‘disposable’.
When his people come to save the prisoners, there will be no room for the likes
of him.

Having no answer from Crunch, the other guard just
shook his head and wandered off to check on the remaining workers.

Crunch couldn’t afford to seem soft, so he didn’t
spare the poor girl another look before walking away. He took off his hood,
happy about the little bit of sunshine that peeked out from behind the grey
clouds. Maybe this was a good time to find Victor and pass him the honey. He
only hoped they wouldn’t have put the lad on lumber duty. It was the worst kind
of job a man could get on this farm, and a posh boy like Victor wasn’t fit for
it. He intended to inspect all the groups, starting with those in the orchard.

When he walked among the trees, munching on his
apple, it was hard not to think about that tight, round ass of Victor’s, and
the lovely pleading sounds he made when they fucked. Even the memory got him
half hard, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He looked around,
scanning the workers scattered between the apple trees. At least with Victor’s
eyes avoiding him like they did yesterday, his erection would disappear in
record breaking time.

And then Crunch saw him.

Big brown eyes looked back at him, and for a
moment, Crunch’s heart came to a standstill. Victor looked around, peeking from
behind the tree he was working by and then waved at Crunch with a small smile.
Its sweetness was all the honey Crunch could ever want.

Did Victor change his mind? What kind of fucking
torment was that supposed to be? Still, he couldn’t help but speed up as he
approached Victor. Up close, he saw how wet the prisoner was. His clothes clung
to his body, but he looked... adorable with his hair in chestnut streaks.
Crunch couldn’t fight a smile anymore.

“Hello, Mr. Crunch,” Victor said once they were at
hearing distance. His voice was hard to read, and so was his face, but he was
smiling, which was bound to be a good thing.

“Hi there, Victor. I was lookin’ for ya.”

The prisoner nodded, but when he dug his teeth
into his bottom lip and started chewing, the pouty mouth got all of Crunch's
attention. He noticed that the outer corner of Victor’s top front tooth was
slightly chipped. That must have been the thing Crunch found odd the day
before. “I wanted to talk. Could we...?”

“Sure, sure,” Crunch said, but scolded himself for
sounding too eager. “I got ya ‘oney for today as well.” After a quick wave to a
guard who didn’t seem to care much, he started walking towards a supply shed,
deeper in the orchard.

He turned his face to stare ahead, but his gaze
stopped at the pretty face. Victor brushed his hair back, but the wet locks
didn't bounce into place and left his pale forehead bare.

“That’s so nice of you, Crunch.”

He wasn’t sure how to interpret Victor’s tone. Was
it hope? Guilt at taking something he didn’t
earn
? Or was it poor acting
skills of a young man trying to wrap Crunch around his finger? That he wouldn't
appreciate.

They reached the tool shed, and Crunch finally
relaxed a bit as they hid behind the building. There shouldn’t be any workers
on the other side. “I said I’ll do it.”

“I know.” Victor looked down at his wet sandals
and then up at Crunch. He seemed very young and vulnerable in the warm light of
the setting sun.

“Ya hurt yarself?” Crunch asked, reaching for the
honey in his pocket without delay.

“What?” Victor blinked, clenching his bandaged
hand into a fist, but the instinctive move made him wince. “Oh... yes, it’s
just a cut. Don’t worry.”

“Ya hungry?” Crunch passed him the honey. “‘Cause
ya smiled...”

Victor looked at the pot, but then his gaze
trailed up to Crunch’s face. “I smiled because I wanted to talk to you.” He
still took the gift, even if somewhat reluctantly.

“Oh yeah? The other pri-- workers still givin’ ya
grief?”

“Yes, but that’s not it.” Victor swallowed and
opened the pot, digging his finger in the golden liquid. He then sucked it into
his mouth with a groan, his soft, plump lips closing over the digit.

Crunch wanted to howl. He took a step back, just
to keep himself out of temptation’s reach. It would be all too easy to just
force himself on someone like Victor, someone who wouldn't dare to tell anyone
and had a couple of pounds of disadvantage on him. “Oh yeah? What is it then?”

Victor sighed, narrowing the distance between them
while sucking on another coating of honey. Some of the thick, golden drops
trailed down his lips. “I was unkind to you yesterday.”

“Nah, ya said what ya wanted. I respect that.”
Crunch stroked the top of his head nervously. He would much more
respect
Victor sucking his cock, but one couldn’t always get everything they wanted. 

“But it’s not what I want, Crunch. I like you,”
the boy insisted and then put the pot against his lips, tipping it to drink the
remaining honey.

Crunch let out a muffled moan and bit on the side
of his hand when he spotted a drop trickle down Victor’s chin. The fucker
wanted to drive him mad!

Victor looked up at him, dark eyes clear and
greedy, though Crunch couldn’t be sure if it was for him, or for the honey.
When he finally licked the sweetness clean and dropped the pot to the ground,
there was nothing between them, no reason for them to be here together.

“So what do ya want?” It came out harsher than
Crunch would have wished.

Victor flinched, his tongue gathering the sticky
trail around his mouth. “I want to blow you,” he said with his eyes locked with
Crunch’s.

Crunch's lungs filled over capacity. God, how he
wanted those honey-sweet lips to be around his cock. “Ya do?” He did his best
to sound sceptical.

Victor smiled and this time, Crunch had no doubt
about the emotion behind it. “Will no one see us here, Mr. Crunch?” His tongue
darted out again, swiping away the sweetness.

“Nah, let’s go into the shed.” Crunch couldn’t
open the padlock fast enough, his mind already filled with the image of Victor
on his knees. The soft touch on his back startled him enough to provoke a gasp.

“Will you kiss me while you toss me off?” God,
Victor was talking dirty.

“Sure will.” They entered the dark tool shed as
quick as possible, closing the door behind them. “I can do all kinds of things
to ya,” Crunch rasped, taking in the smell of apples and wood chips as he
walked over the creaking floor.

“I want to
kneel
in front of you.” Victor
slid his hands around Crunch’s waist and buried his face in the cloak, hugging
the guard from behind.

“Anythin’ ya want,” rolled off Crunch’s tongue
before he realised how desperate that came out. There was only sparse light
coming in through a small, dusty window, but Crunch quickly found a table he
could lean against and took off his cloak. Victor pushed against him, his
smaller body wet and cool, even though on the inside, he was burning up. Crunch
could see that in his brown eyes as their lips met in a fierce, needy kiss.

Crunch grabbed the sides of his face, wanting more
time to explore. He felt ridiculous about how much he wanted the touch after
not getting it for just one day, but he decided it was animal instinct. A
hunter and his prey. The moment he couldn’t have Victor, he only wanted him
more.

The lad pressed against him, moving the palms of
his hands up Crunch’s torso and to his neck. His long, slim fingers teased at
his collarbone, traced the underside of his jaw during this long, spectacular
kiss that made Crunch see all the stars. Victor practically forced him to sit
on the table, settling his hips between Crunch’s slightly spread thighs and
rocked their groins together.

“Oh yeah,” he mumbled into Victor’s lips, unable
to form any coherent thoughts.

“You like that?” Victor’s hot breath rasped
between their mouths as he slid his hands down Crunch’s sides to stroke his
thighs.

“Yar so...” He couldn’t even find the words,
looking at Victor in silent awe, and it got him a knowing grin. Victor surely knew
what a sensuous man he was, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to hear it.

“Yes?” He nuzzled the underside of Crunch’s jaw
before giving it a small, languid lap with his tongue.

“Ya know, ‘igh class.” Crunch laughed and rubbed
the bridge of his nose, now even more aware of the ugly bulk than ever.

“Not anymore, but thank you.” Victor’s mouth was
hot on his neck, then on his ear, and when the boy cupped the back of Crunch’s
neck with the palm of his hand, there was no doubt he was feeling more confident
with their intimacy. Or maybe he really missed Crunch’s touch.

“Ya ‘igh class to me,” he murmured, slowly
embracing the other man and stroking his back.

“Shut up.” Coming from Victor’s mouth, it sounded
almost like an endearment. The lad popped the buttons of Crunch’s trousers one
by one, panting straight into his ear. His skin and hair smelled wet, like the
city after a storm, before the dust and fumes went up in the air again.

Crunch slid his hands down to Victor’s arse with a
grin, the taste of honey still present on his lips. Must have been really
hungry to just swallow all the thick nectar in one go, but it made him taste
exquisite. Victor was pushing Crunch’s trousers down, and he fell to his knees,
gaze still locked with Crunch’s. There was something unbearably intense in his
brown eyes, as if he wanted to say something, but before Crunch got to ask what
it was, Victor opened his mouth with a small smile.

“I really want you.”

“Ya do?” All of Crunch’s insides went aflutter, he
couldn’t take his eyes off the beauty in front of him. He didn’t even care
anymore if the lad was telling the truth. He
wanted
to believe him.

Victor nodded, pressing both of his palms against
Crunch’s taut stomach. He ran them down the sides of his hips, leaning closer,
his pretty face dreamy as it brushed against Crunch’s crotch. With his nose
nestled against the base of Crunch’s erection, he lapped at his balls, nuzzling
and sniffing the hot flesh within reach. Crunch let out a low groan, his chest
heavy with excitement that was so much sweeter than the Dal honey.