Stung (Zombie Gentlemen) (2 page)

***

The sun was killing him.

Victor closed his eyes for a moment, hiding in the
shadow of the tree in pretence of looking for fallen fruit in the grass. Here,
he could still sense the earthy, somewhat wet smell of the ground, mixing with
the sweet aroma of the apples. Experiencing such close contact with fruit trees
was so alien and new that he wasn’t yet sure whether he liked it or not.

It seemed like it’s been ages since his team
started working in the orchard, and they haven't been given any water so far.
His tongue felt like a piece of parched wood, drying out inside the boiling
oven of his head. The skin of his forearms and nape was already burning and,
despite the raising agitation, he was getting dizzy. He coughed, unable to
soothe the thirst that turned his throat into parchment, and his eyes fell to a
couple of small apples beneath his feet.

Victor’s whole body ached for the chance to have
just one bite, to soothe the thirst for even a moment. His gaze raised just
enough to see the two pairs of boots that couldn’t belong to the other
prisoners. His heart leapt when he saw that the men wearing them were facing
away from him. The guards seemed to be caught up in a heated conversation and
with their attention turned elsewhere, Victor reached for a blood red apple. He
didn’t even bother to clean it with his shirt and got some grit between his
teeth, but the explosion of taste and the glorious wetness of the fruit made it
all irrelevant.

He forgot about the surrounding world, engulfed in
satisfying his hunger as the skin gave way to his teeth with a crunching sound.
Victor hid behind the tree, scooting down with his back against the trunk as he
tried to watch his surroundings, but after the first bite, his mind drifted
off, and he fantasized about the cottage pie he had for his last proper meal.
He should have savoured each bite but used to eating whenever he liked, he just
shovelled it from the plate within minutes. Such a shame.

Victor was halfway through the succulent fruit,
when a large hand grabbed his wrist and sharply pulled him up. He swallowed a
huge gulp of air, looking at the fair hair at the back of it with wide eyes.
Terror grasped his heart, squeezing it to the point of pain, just as hard as
Victor’s fingers curled around the apple.

Crunch's bright green eyes stared at him from
below bushy eyebrows. “You dumb or somethin’?” he snarled.

“I’m...” Victor had to clear his throat to make it
work properly, but he couldn’t keep his teeth from clattering. “I’m so
hungry... We weren’t fed since yesterday… I...”

“Do I look like I care for yar sob story?”
Crunch's voice was clearly affected by the smoke from the pipe he was holding
in his other hand, low and raspy like fine glass paper.

Victor stared at him, frozen in place. His muscles
hurt from the strain of maintaining the same position, but he pushed it into
the back of his mind, completely focused on the green irises. He needed one of
the guards to help him through this place, he needed Crunch.

“What do you care for?” he whispered, desperately trying
to keep himself together. He clung to the hope that Crunch wouldn't be as
hesitant to punish him right away if he had despised Victor's crude flirting
earlier.

Those words did get him more of Crunch’s
attention. The man slowly let go of his wrist and took the apple out of
Victor’s hand, only to bite into it himself. “What were ya getting at back
there?” He pointed towards the buildings, obviously sharing Victor's thoughts.

Victor’s chest heaved while his mind worked
frantically to come up with the best answer. “What do you think I meant?”

Crunch frowned and looked around, taking another
bite of Victor's apple. With his gaze still turned away, he leaned in, resting
his hand just by Victor's head, close enough for Victor to smell the uncovered
forearm. “I think ya wanna suck me,” he said with his mouth full.

Victor felt his face flush and with a tingle going
all the way down his back, he knew every single hair on his body was bristling
in response to that straightforward statement. “Um... I might... want to...”

“Ya don’t sound so sure anymore. Not gonna force
ya, ya know.” Crunch kept checking him out as he traced a finger down Victor's
stomach, giving him goosebumps.

Victor frowned. So, it was all right to deny him
an apple, yet forcing him to suck a cock wasn’t? He made himself smile despite
the rising anxiety and took in the smell of worn leather and sweat. “You’re
just a bit overwhelming.”

“I could be less overwhelming after supper, if yar
up for it, pretty boy.” Crunch took another bite of the mouthwatering fruit.
“This place does get lonely,” he said with a crooked grin and turned the apple
to Victor’s lips.

The gesture was enough to make Victor’s eyes
water, but he could only nod as he took a mouthful of fruit, shaking slightly.
“I don’t know anyone,” he said, while still chewing. If it wasn't for the fact
that he was imprisoned in a camp ran by the Dal mob, he might have been more
flattered and less frightened.

“So?”

Victor swallowed the piece of apple and took
another bite, watching the guard's face for signs of mocking. What if he was
just teasing Victor, only to take the apple away? The uncertainty was
tightening his stomach. Crunch didn’t seem like a cruel person, but one could
never know in a place like this. “I’m already lonely.”

He watched Crunch look to the sides, but as the
man leaned in, Victor couldn't stop the tremble in his body. A gentle brush of
dry lips against his juice-stained mouth was enough to drive the fear away. The
kiss was soft, nothing more than a touch, yet it sent a jolt of electricity all
the way down to his groin.

“I’ll come round later.”

Victor’s eyes got as wide as saucers. “I will be
waiting,” he blurted out and practically devoured another piece of the apple,
doing his best to finish it before someone else noticed what they were up to.
God, he was so hungry.

Crunch finally backed off but left the apple to
Victor. “I see ya having one more of those, and ya lose a finger, get it?”

Victor frowned and lifted his left hand, wiggling
what was left of his little finger. He’d lost most of it in an accident he had
as a child. “Would you at least make them symmetrical?” He knew he was playing
with fire, but the way Crunch changed the topic from Victor sucking him off to
Victor losing his finger was simply outrageous.

The guard looked at the digit, and his smile
widened, revealing a small gap between his top front teeth. “Ya got it.” He
patted Victor on the cheek, and the rough touch of his hand lingered as if he
couldn’t pull away. Victor bit his lip, leaning into the warmth. Tenderness was
the last thing he expected after being thrown into that cattle wagon, yet he
had a distinct feeling he would enjoy ‘later’ for reasons other than securing
an alliance.

“So...” Crunch prolonged the word as if he were
chewing on it.

“I hope we’ll have time to enjoy it,” tried
Victor. If he was to actually talk Crunch into some kind of help, time was a
necessity. Nothing other than pleasure would be achieved with a fifteen minute
blowjob.

“Don’t ya worry. I’ll work it out.” Crunch looked
him up and down, reluctantly pulling away. He seemed as hungry for touch as
Victor was -- well -- plain hungry.

Victor gave him his best, innocent smile, the one
that should melt the heart of any boylover, even though he could no longer be
considered a ‘boy’. “All right, I trust you.”

With Crunch towering over Victor, it was hard to
miss the way his Adam's apple bobbed at that. He didn't hesitate though and
walked away with a dreamy smile that suited neither his image nor the weapons
he was carrying. Victor shook his head in wonder but quickly got up to his
feet, unwilling to tempt his luck any further. He looked to the broad back of
the handsome guard again and let his mind wander. Crunch did show him more
compassion than he expected, but maybe it was just a prelude to business? That
Victor was determined to find out.

Chapter
2

Crunch was doing his best to contain his excitement
but ended up walking from tree to tree, nervous as if he were fifteen again.
It's been six months since he'd bedded anyone and some days he forgot to even
dream about it. He knew many of the other guards picked out the women they
wanted as though it was a slave market, but it was filth Crunch couldn't stand.
Why would anyone want to fuck some reluctant piece of meat? A man who would
like him back on the other hand, would take the edge off his nerves. He could
only hope that new boy didn’t accept his advances only to whore himself out for
privileges. The pretty lad was nothing like the other workers, so it wasn’t
hard to find out that his name was Victor Sheppard, but that was all Crunch
knew.

He watched the sun set, orange rays colouring the
top of the glass dome on the hill. He sighed, putting on his leather jacket and
gloves when it became too cold. An all-too-known cacophony of bells called him
to the Feeder, a large wooden barn where the prisoners were given food twice a
day. All of them were underfed. The Dals didn't intend to starve them, but with
little food, lots of hard labour, and the camp guards stealing as much as they
could get away with it, all the workers were eventually withering.

As he approached the Feeder, he saw the workers
being led into the building in small groups. Crunch recognized Victor right
away. The whole team was walking in slouched positions, like a group of apes,
and trailing behind was a single willowy silhouette. Victor’s wavy chestnut
hair was now flattened with sweat, sticking to his face. The young man was
exceptionally handsome, handsome enough for Crunch to ogle when the lad was
leaving the train. To see those huge, brown eyes staring back at him had been
unexpected enough, but the lewd thing Victor did with his mouth almost got
Crunch hard on the spot. At first, he dismissed the meaning of what he believed
he had seen, but the lad kept up the stare contest and won by completely and
utterly hypnotising Crunch.

He couldn't stop thinking about Victor, and it
brought him to a point when he had to go on a date with his own hand to relieve
the tension in his trousers. It was only when he saw Victor again that he
realized a single spill wouldn't help him last when the time came. Crunch was
happy to see Kit, one of the daftest guards on duty, so he approached him with
confidence.

“Hey, the boss wants to see ‘im.” He pointed to
Victor, who was still slacking behind, with his head hung low. “Gonna take ‘im
over.”

“What, all of’em?” Kit’s watery eyes narrowed.

Crunch didn’t look at Victor, but he could
physically feel the big brown eyes on his back.

“Nah, just that posh toff ova’ there.” He nodded
towards Victor. This was too easy to be true.

Kit shrugged, casting a glance at the prisoner
whose skin was now covered by a crust of dirt and sweat. “Ya ‘eard ‘im. Go.”

“Yes, sir.” Victor nodded, immediately getting out
of the crowd and moving to stand by Crunch’s side with his eyes cast down, as
if he was afraid he was being singled out for some ghastly purpose.

Kit’s face broke into a wide grin. “Ah, nice to be
a ‘sir’, ain’t it, Crunch?”

“Sure is.” He nodded and smiled back, grabbing
Victor’s arm and pulling him the other way as he would any other prisoner. He
didn’t want to seem like a brute, but that was the way it had to go if he was
not to raise suspicion.

“But... what about the food? I won’t get any till
morning.” Victor pulled back a bit, his dark eyes wide, inquisitive. Even in
the weak light of the moon, it was clear his skin was fine as a peach.

“Oy! I thought you said you trust me,” hissed
Crunch, but he softened his grip when they got far enough walking past the
wooden barracks. “Ya’ll get yar gob full,” he said, but frowned as soon as he
was done speaking. That didn’t come out right, and Victor picked up on it.

“Um... I meant food... I’m just hungry.” He didn’t
try to stop or get away though, letting Crunch lead the way into the vast
orchard.

Crunch cleared his throat, gently moving his
fingertips over Victor’s shoulder blade as they walked past the spot where
Victor’s team had been working earlier. “Yeah, I got ya something betta’ than
the fuckin’ porridge.” He glanced at Victor in the darkness and couldn’t help
but smile. The prisoner had the largest eyes he had ever seen on a grown man,
dark brown with lashes so thick and long it bordered on obscene. Crunch let his
gaze trail down the elegant, narrow nose to a luscious mouth that simply
belonged with all that dark stubble on Victor’s chin and cheeks. Crunch would
love to feel it scratching against his skin.

“You did?” And that voice. It was smooth as
velvet. Crunch did feel velvet once so he knew.

“Poshy like ya prolly eats berries and uh... veal
or somethin’?” He laughed and, after making sure they weren't followed, slid
his arm around Victor's shoulders as they made their way towards the watchtower
on the outskirts of the orchard. The fact that Victor was dirty didn’t matter
much. That could be dealt with easily. He was too horny to care.

Victor looked up at him, wide eyed like a rabbit
staring into the barrel of a shotgun. In the bright moonlight, Crunch noticed
the prisoner had a mole below his lower lip, close to its right corner. He
couldn’t wait to kiss it.

“You have
veal
?”

“Nah, but I do ‘ave some nice dinner for ya.”

Victor’s eyes focused on him for the longest
moment. “Why are you being so nice?”

That got Crunch to slow down his pace. “I...
there’s not much chance to bed someone here, ya know...”

Victor licked his lips, though it looked more like
a gesture of nervousness than seduction. “I’ve been told the guards have
someone to warm their beds whenever they wish.”

Crunch's mood soured, but he didn’t stop walking.
“If ya ‘ave taste for rape,” he muttered with a pout. He certainly didn’t, and
the lewd look on Victor’s face in the morning was what got him so excited in
the first place. It showed genuine interest, not a trade-in for a steak and a
bottle of whiskey. At least he hoped so. Victor’s chuckle fetched his attention
back.

“You have a taste for courting. That’s a clean
shirt, isn’t it?” Victor leaned closer into Crunch. Warm fingers ran down
Crunch's torso, swirling over the buttons, all the way down to his belt. He
swallowed, trying to keep his breathing in check, but his heart was already
rushing in his chest. He wanted to feel those hands all over and pump straight
into Victor’s juicy arse at the same time. Crunch hadn’t seen it yet, but he
could bet it was as gorgeous as Victor’s face.

“Well... yeah.” He wanted to add something
wittier, but it wasn’t coming, so Victor took over from him.

“Oh, I’m so embarrassed now about forgetting to
wear my good shoes.” The grin he gave Crunch though was tinted by the tension
around his eyes and the tight voice.

“I think ya don’t need‘em. Ya might even look
betta’ without any clothes.” Crunch beamed at him as they walked out of the
orchard and onto a meadow. The chunky silhouette of the watchtower was visible
already on the background of clear sky. In the silence of the night, the
constant buzzing of the bees in the Hive on the hill was a reminder of why he
was here. Eating the Dal honey wasn’t beneath Crunch, but he would much prefer
not knowing how it was produced.

As if reading his thoughts, Victor yawned and
leaned in to whisper, “What is that sound?”

“Bee hives. Sort of.” Crunch scowled. “But if
everything goes well, you won’t have to see them. If asked, don’t volunteer for
it.”

Victor sighed. “Who would? No one wants to be
stung.”

Crunch nodded vigorously. “Remember that.”

Victor let his cheek rest on Crunch’s shoulder. “I
must reek. Is there any chance there’s water where we’re going?”

“Yeah, there’s a pump outside the watchtower.”

That brought a wide smile to Victor’s face. “I don’t
even want to think about the smell in the barracks at night. I bathe twice a
day, you know.”

“What?” Crunch laughed in disbelief.

“I have a bathtub in my room.” Victor was
completely serious. He leaned closer into Crunch, embracing his midsection with
both hands.

“Ya shoulda’ sold it to go out of debt with the
Dal’s.” Crunch pouted, but the touch sent a shiver down his spine.

“I’m not indebted.” The frown didn’t make Victor
look any less handsome. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh yeah?” Crunch smirked. “Ya did nothing to be
‘ere?”

The closer they were getting to the watchtower,
the louder was the gurgling and groaning from behind of the double fences that
surrounded all of Honeyhill. The way Victor’s hands squeezed the fabric of his
shirt told him the prisoner didn’t have much experience with zombies.

“I didn’t! It’s not my fault Frey Dal gives mixed
signals about what he wants.”

Crunch raised his eyebrows, expecting him to go on
as they stopped by the water pump just outside the red brick base of the tower.

Victor rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt over
his head, revealing a toned body. His muscles looked very natural, a result of
daily activities rather than muscle-building exercise. “I’m a singer. He wanted
me to perform at a party and then I... well... misinterpreted his intentions
and sort of dropped to my knees,” he mumbled, gradually lowering the tone of
his voice.

Crunch snorted and leaned against the pump, taking
in the view. “The man ‘as five wives.”

“So? He wouldn’t be the first one to enjoy both
men and women.” Crunch barely heard that last bit, too focused on a perfect
arse and a pair of smooth thighs when Victor bent over to pull the rest of his
clothes off.

Crunch had to adjust the trousers on his crotch,
because his cock was getting too interested to fit in comfortably. “Too bad
though. Frey hates sods.”

“He should have felt complimented. Fucking bigot.
Five fucking wives!” Naked as the day he was born, Victor knelt by the pump and
glanced back at Crunch. “Would you help me with this?”

“Oh yeah!” His eyes went wide, and he pushed on
the handle of the pump. He would gladly help Victor with the washing too. The
prisoner pushed his head under the stream of water and shuddered visibly at its
temperature, wetness dripping down his nape and then lower, straight to where
Crunch wanted to touch. “Doesn’t know what ‘e’s missin’,” he chuckled, trying
not to blink so he wouldn’t miss even a second of the view.

Victor was quick, running his wet hands all over
his chest and arms, there was no teasing this time. He washed himself from head
to toe in swift, practical movements, never lingering, even when he was getting
his buttocks clean, which Crunch took for a promising sign.

“I got blankets in the tower.” He pointed up the
wooden ladder, but couldn’t help himself and rubbed his cock through the
trousers a few times, only to notice Victor’s chocolate gaze following the
movement. Crunch licked his lips and grinned. “I’ll let ya eat first, no
worries.”

Victor snorted and got up to his feet, his body
still trembling from the cold. “Always the gentleman.”

“Doin’ my best.” Crunch smiled like a kid getting
the biggest piece of cake at the party and gestured to the ladder. “After you.”

“Thought so. It’s not just sucking you want, is
it?” Victor asked, gathering his clothes and sandals before casually making his
way to the ladder. His body was gorgeous, soft and hard at the same time, with
a flat stomach and just a little bit of dark hair around his crotch. The
perfect skin was pristine except for a few small moles that only made him more
appealing.

Crunch rushed after Victor and followed him up the
ladder, staring at that pert arse. He had to fight the urge to rush up and bury
his face in the warm crevice between the cheeks. He now had the most perfect
view on their sensuous curve, complete with goosebumps and water droplets that
fell from Victor’s skin and down on Crunch’s face. “Why? Ya a ‘suckin’
only’kinda man?”

“No, unless the man’s the size of a bottle of
gin.”

“Ya so tight?” It just rolled off Crunch’s tongue
with a gasp. His cock was begging to find out. Victor stopped on the ladder and
looked down at him with a half-smile.

“I guess you’re going to find out soon enough.”

“Oh yeah?” Crunch studied every detail of Victor’s
arse and balls as the man crawled into the tower on all fours. For a moment,
Crunch 's mind flooded with fantasies of drying him off with his tongue. He
couldn’t believe his own luck even as he clung to the ladder, out in the slight
wind. The small entrance above him was like a promise of relief in Victor’s
company. Warm flesh, soft mouth, and a hard cock.

“Oh, Mr. Crunch, where are you?” called the
velvety voice from above, pulling him up at record breaking speed. He
practically fell into the tiny room where Victor was already sitting on the wooden
floor, wrapped in one of the blankets. Crunch knew this whole thing was dodgy,
so he wanted to make it as pleasant and non-threatening as possible. The last
thing he needed would be to find out that Victor just cared for the food, not
the fucking. The circular room was tiny and rather dark, with only one chair to
sit on and several windows in the walls, but it was still the place that
offered most privacy to fuck.

Victor gave him a smile. “Feed me.”

All Crunch wanted was to pull out his cock at
those words, but he held back that urge and reached over to a duffel bag he had
brought here earlier. He took his shoes off and squatted on one of the blankets
he had laid out on the dusty floor. Not without pride, he pulled out a number
of paper bags with a choice of all the foods he managed to get ahold of. There
were two slices of cake, nuts, dried fruit, a sandwich, pears, and even a few
slices of ham. Victor’s mouth fell open, his eyes focusing on the meal. He
crawled closer, snatching the first bag, and pulled out a piece of cake with a
childlike smile. He took half of it in one bite, murmuring softly as he chewed
on it with his shoulders slouching.