((Shit, I posted this a day late. Oh, well.
Disclaimer: I don't own L4D2 or anything it entails. Please don't sue me.))
A week after arriving to safety, Nick had concluded that the quarantine was actually a hundred times worse than the infection itself.
They'd taken a chopper out of New Orleans and despite the fact that the group was still seething about having been bombed by these guys, they still remained calm. Nick almost started banging on the inner walls of the chopper to the pilots above them, but Coach stopped him short, warning him that they hadn't had a problem bombing, and going too far might have them dumped right back out into the river.
Eventually, the group were notified that they would be dropped off on cruise ships a few miles out in the Gulf of Mexico to block them off from all potential chance of further infection and that there was no telling how long they'd be out there. But hopefully when they came back, the zombies would be gone.
But cruise ships. Now, that sounded nice.
Keyword: Sounded.
Reality sure had a way of smacking people in the face. The survivors found themselves tossed on board of one of the many crowded ships. The infection had hit fast, Nick heard one of the soldiers reassuring another survivor, and that was why their living arrangements weren't terribly comfortable right now.
Uncomfortable didn't even begin to describe it.
Upon arrival, the survivors were all subject to testing to determine whether or not they were infected. Once deemed 'good', as a soldier kept hollering, they were stripped of their clothing (Nick was not pleased to part with his suit or the money he'd looted during their escape, and Ellis could be seen pouting among the survivors about the loss of his hat) and their naked bodies were hosed down with a harsh spray to clean the blood and whatever other possibility of infection the grime held from them. Nick managed to ignore the cold hose-water in favor of being clean, and even contemplated asking if they had any shampoo. He could hear Rochelle screaming and Ellis howling in protest, but the sounds died down when they were handed shirts and jeans, socks, and shoes that all seemed to come from Goodwill. Nick wasn't pleased, but he also wasn't naked, and for now, that would have to do.
All four of them winced visibly upon hearing a gunshot behind them. A soldier shook his head and muttered, "Has to be done, guys. They're infected." There were other words about 'risk of further infection' and 'quarantine', but Nick didn't listen, and judging by the look on the other three's faces, they didn't seem to be paying attention, either. Somehow, all of them had expected something like this.
After testing and cleansing the four of any infection, they were crammed into a room together. It was small, and there were only two beds with thin blankets and lumpy pillows, but the demand was higher than the supply, and the four were condemned to sharing the room.
At least they were together. Nick wasn't sure if he could handle getting to know yet another bundle of idiots.
Though outside of the room, it didn't matter anyway. The cafeteria, which was on the lower levels inside the ship, was cluttered beyond belief, and the survivors often found themselves waiting in line for nearly an hour to pick up their cold, rationed meals. But only Nick seemed to be complaining—the others were relieved to not have to scavenge for food any longer. It didn't taste wonderful by any means (since when did frozen and processed goods taste good anyway?), but after being lectured by Coach about 'takin' what you can get', Nick decided to keep his mouth shut.
The first night was horrible. Rochelle was sick from the bad lunchmeat they'd had earlier that day and Coach and Ellis spent their time offering to go fetch her some water or a warm towel (which neither of them could actually provide, but it was the comfort they were going for), and Nick wanted to punch Ellis for offering out their blanket (Yes, they were sharing a bed, while Coach and Rochelle got the other one), but when Rochelle turned it down, he cooled off immediately.
Among Rochelle's vomiting, Coach's snoring, and Ellis' tossing and turning (and occasionally getting up to comfort Rochelle), Nick somehow managed to get to sleep. It was an uncomfortable, light sleep, but at least it was sleep, and not the kind of one-eye-open-zombie-apocalypse sleep he'd gotten so used to doing during their escape.
A week later, it hadn't gotten much better. Rochelle's vomiting had ceased several days earlier and she was relieved to actually be able to hold down the supper they'd waited almost an hour for that evening. And now, she and Coach both slept soundly on the mattress. Lucky for Nick, Ellis had followed suit, and the con-man actually had a chance to catch some decent shut-eye.
And then it'd started storming. The ship rocked and bobbed on the water's surface, and the motions combined with the sound of water slapping roughly up against the body of the ship had Nick sick to his stomach, and the next thing he knew, it was his turn to start puking.
Somehow, he hadn't been surprised when Ellis had risen to offer him comfort, like he'd done for Rochelle, but that didn't make it any less annoying.
"Don't tell me yer seasick, Mr. Gamblin' Man…" That name hadn't been spoken since before they'd introduced themselves, and it hung heavy with the implication that the older man had spent his fair amount of time on gambling boats. He had, but the boats were on the river and not the damned Gulf of Mexico, and it was a totally different story.
"Really, Ellis?" Nick managed between heaving and groaning. "I was just fine yesterday—must've gotten bad food this time around." He laughed, voice weak and on the verge of retching once more. "If this puking starts rotating between us, I'm going back into the damned zombie apocalypse." There was a brief chuckle, but it was interrupted by gagging, and then more heaving, and Nick found himself hunched over, puking his guts out, and at this point, he was a little too preoccupied to stop Ellis from rubbing his back like a mother would have done.
Once he was finished, however, he got to his feet and stepped away from the boy, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He needed to get to the restroom and wash his mouth out before the taste alone had him sick again.
"Y'alright?" Ellis questioned, his mouth pushed all the way to one side almost in that lopsided grin he wore so well, but there was more curiosity to it than amusement. And maybe some concern. The boy was unpredictable, and Nick found him hard to read.
Which was frustrating as all getout, considering his field of work, but that was another subject for another day.
"I'm fine." Nick answered gruffly, then stumbled toward the small bathroom their room had been supplied with. "Just gotta get the puke out of my mouth."
He hadn't realized Ellis had followed him into the room until he looked up from the sink (with a cleaner mouth, thanks to the standard-issue toothpaste each of the rooms had been given) and saw the boy in the mirror.
Nick wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if he'd screamed, so he slapped a hand over his mouth, then turned and glared at the mechanic.
"Sorry." Ellis spoke quickly, laughing somewhat. "Didn't mean to scare ya."
"You weren't running your mouth like usual." Nick defended, letting the air slide out of his lungs in a long sigh. "Talk or something next time, dammit."
"Didn't wanna wake Coach and Ro." Ellis answered, flicking his thumb over his shoulder to point at the two still sleeping soundly in their bed.
That night, Nick hadn't really understood why the kid lingered around him so much, but as the nights passed by and Ellis offered things like going for walks so they could talk without waking Coach and Rochelle, stolen cafeteria food, and games of poker with a tattered pack of cards he'd gotten his hands on from one of the other survivors, it became quite obvious.
Ellis was expecting to maintain whatever fucked up relationship they'd formed during all this, even after the quarantine.
The con-man wasn't yet sure exactly how he felt about that. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks faded into a full month and December eventually rolled in, he found that he'd grown rather used to Ellis' chattering, and having a beer or two with the kid might not have been such a bad idea.
Four days before Christmas, Ellis and Nick played a round of poker, and to break the monotony, Ellis had suggested a catch. If he won, Nick was going to step out of the room for a day and enjoy himself as if he were Keith in the flesh—upon which the con-man implored that none of it include burns on ninety-five percent of his body, and Ellis reluctantly obliged. If Nick won, Ellis had to try to get into the soldiers' dwellings and see if he could get his hands on some beer, considering they hadn't been able to find any anywhere else.
Ellis had lost, and was briefly nervous about the task he'd been assigned, but he was also insane, and said insanity helped the adrenaline to kick in and the boy was soon bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. Coach and Rochelle weren't pleased by the dare, but even if Nick had retracted it, Ellis was determined. "I ain't done somethin' this fun in a month, man! C'mon!" Rochelle and Coach hadn't been able to convince him otherwise, and Nick wasn't so sure he could do any better.
How he'd ended up going along for the ride, however, was beyond him. It hadn't taken much more than for him to be stirred awake in the dead of the night by Ellis, who kept urging, "C'mon, everyone's sleepin' now…" and the next thing the con-man had known, he was standing out in the middle of the corridor with Ellis, who was still bouncing around like a crazy person.
"I didn't say 'we' when I dared you, Overalls." Nick demanded with a surprisingly low amount of impatience, and the lack thereof was kind of freaking him out.
"It's funner this way." Ellis argued, grinning. "'Sides, I ain't lettin' you drink any of it if I gotta go get it all by myself." He winked, and then he was off, slinking through the dark hallways of the ship and to the stairs. The officials roomed at the floor just above the deck. In the cafeteria, Nick had occasionally heard stories of people going in there for pranks, but getting escorted right back out. The officials had made it a point to tell the survivors to merely keep climbing the stairs until they reached their rooms, because whatever went on there was classified.
The con-man doubted this situation would be any different. Regardless, he pressed on behind Ellis, biting his lip hard as they traversed the stairs. Two flights down, and they would be at the right floor.
"Don't chicken out on me." Ellis said a little too loudly, and Nick nearly jumped out of his shirt in response.
"Keep your damn mouth shut and I won't." The older man answered harshly, voice just above a whisper, and they rounded the stairs, starting down the next flight.
Ellis merely grinned and moved more quickly down the stairs.
…………………………………
It turned out the ship was completely devoid of alcohol—at least, according to the man guarding the entrance to the corridor leading to the officials' dwellings. He didn't seem pleased that people were trying to sneak in to find some, that was for sure.
"Are you sure?" Ellis had questioned, and Nick had brought the palm of his hand to his own forehead, scraping it down his face in frustration. "I mean, not even one? We been good, and we been on here a little too long for my tastes, but a cold one would be nice…"
The discussion had quickly escalated into an argument, and when the soldier actually pointed his gun threateningly, Nick had decided to take initiative, seizing Ellis' hand and dragging them back to the stairs, where they sprinted upward. Ellis cackled like an insane person and waved goodbye to the soldier who seemed satisfied that the offenders were returning to their rooms.
And they were running. Nick wasn't looking behind and Ellis wasn't slacking. The southerner was clearly enjoying himself, and the con-man had a determined, serious look on his face. Nick was running even though his life really didn't depend on it (but after hearing what happened to infected survivors, he didn't want to take any chances), and Ellis kept going because it was fun.
But, the older man wouldn't admit aloud, it was pretty fun. It was exhilarating, doing this without the threat of being covered in zombies in the process. Man, was that ever cheesy.
Nick tried to stop them on their floor, but Ellis kept going and took up the lead, tugging Nick up the stairs.
"…The hell? Where are we going?" The older man questioned, though he didn't stop running behind the boy, mostly for fear that Ellis wouldn't let go and they'd both go toppling down the stairs.
Ellis didn't answer. He merely laughed and continued up the stairs, letting go of the con-man's hand when he was sure the other wasn't stopping. Even Nick couldn't ignore his own curiosity, and at this point, Ellis figured he was dying to know what the mechanic had up his sleeve. It wasn't anything, really. He just wanted to stand on the balcony for a bit. But the running was fun, and everything else about this place was boring, so there was no use spoiling it by answering.
"Wait up, dammit!" Nick panted, rounding yet another flight of stairs and following the younger man up them. He couldn't help but wonder exactly what the people in the corridors were thinking, hearing footsteps pounding up metal staircase after metal staircase, voices screaming and echoing through the stairwell. They probably sounded more chaotic than they actually were being.
By the time Nick's lungs were pleading for air, they reached a small area where the stairs stopped climbing, a door before them. The water could be heard splashing up on the ship from inside, and Ellis stood before the door with an odd look on his face. There was an odd sensation of mystery around him, and his hand reached up and turned the handle, pushing the door open.
The splashing of water became a roar, and Nick stepped out, stomach doing a somersault the minute he saw where they were.
Honestly, in the month of them being here, the con-man hadn't taken a single visit to the top floor. He didn't see a reason.
Why was he so amazed now, then?
The water crashed against the ship, and even from how high up the two men were, it still misted them lightly with the wind that blew against them. Nick wasn't sure what time it was, but it was sure dark. The sky was cloudy, though stars could be seen peeking out from little gaps in between the clouds. And if none of those factors had gotten to the con-man, the sheer height alone was enough to get him. His mouth was open wide, at least until he noticed that Ellis was giggling, in which case he promptly closed it, then scowled.
"This is what you dragged me up here for?"
Ellis stormed forward until his waist came in contact with the railing of the balcony. They were right in the middle of the ship, but from this height, it was almost as if they were hovering right over the water.
The southerner let out a holler and looked to the stars, the cool December air (which was significantly less chilly down South, but still chilly either way) whipping his shirt around his frame, and Nick wasn't quite sure why the sight gave him goosebumps.
"This is awesome, man!" Ellis cried out, facing Nick with the same wide eyes and massive grin he'd seen on the kid when he was shooting zombies. The con-man couldn't quite see what the boy found so entertaining about it. It was pretty, he'd give that much, but nothing to start screaming about. "We're on top of the world!"
And that's when it hit Nick. Ellis, the little hillbilly he was, wasn't some rich boy who got to do whatever he wanted all the time. It was probably why he and Keith had relied on each other so much. They found their own ways to enjoy themselves. With an amused chuckle, the older man silently realized that Ellis had never been on a ship this big before. He probably felt like he was flying right now.
"What?" Ellis rose an eyebrow. "I say somethin' funny?"
Nick shook his head and approached the balcony, leaning over and taking the sight in, himself. He stood next to the boy, arms resting on the metal railing, eyes fixed on the waves moving, though the sight eventually made him a little seasick and he turned his attention up to the horizon instead.
"Then why'd you laugh?" Ellis pressed on, nudging the older man with his elbow.
"You mean to say that screaming like a banshee in the middle of the night is normal?"
Ellis laughed. "Good point. But it was fun."
Christmas was getting close, and the entire ship was on the fritz about it. Nobody had anything from before arrival on the ship, and everyone wanted something to celebrate the season with. They all clung desperately to some hope of normalcy, and Christmas was the perfect way to create said normalcy. The soldiers merely did their jobs and kept the people under control and on the ships, and therefore, there was no help offered from them. Some survivors resorted to drawing bells and holly and Christmas trees on the various surfaces of the ship, like some weird holiday graffiti. All pens were confiscated soon afterward.
On Christmas Eve, it was actually cold, and most of the survivors opted to retreat to their rooms for warmth. Rochelle covered up in her blanket on the bed, while Coach, Nick, and Ellis played cards together. It was odd, doing it this way when they all (Except Nick—he couldn't have cared less, which he made sure everyone knew) knew that in any normal case, they'd have been in a warm house, stockings and lights and presents decorating it, light Christmas music in the background.
Ellis seemed particularly bothered by it, which everyone noticed by the blatant lack of harebrained stories and the fact that he seemed more focused on his cards than Nick was on his own.
"What's on your mind, Ellis?" Rochelle questioned, relieved to see the same Ellis when the boy lifted his head to look at her.
"Nothin', really." He answered with a shrug. "Jus' been thinkin' 'bout Christmas an' all…"
Coach sighed and eyed the boy impatiently. "Don't be gettin' all miserable on the holidays now, Ellis."
Ellis nodded. "Naw, I'm happy it's almost Christmas, but it's like the guys keepin' us here don't want us to have no fun with it at all…"
Yes. Ellis had been one of the survivors scribbling Christmas pictures on the ship. He'd cursed at the soldier who had taken his pen and contemplated spitting in his face, but calmed down and merely sulked off to his room.
"We'll enjoy it in our own way." Rochelle said with a little smile. "It's not about the decorations and presents, after all." Though both of those were always nice. "Why don't you go back out to the balcony again tonight with Nick?"
Both Nick and Ellis froze. Why wasn't it surprising Rochelle knew?
"Why me?" Nick suddenly questioned, dropping his cards and gawking at her.
"Why not?" Rochelle continued, and there was something about the look on her face that Nick didn't like at all. "It's Christmas Eve, you two should enjoy yourselves."
The con-man frowned. "I think you're getting—"
Ellis elbowed him. "Get the hint, man. Coach and Ro…Christmas Eve…We should give 'em some space." Coach and Rochelle promptly shot Ellis shocked looks and started cursing at him.
Nick made a face as he pieced the words together.
…………………………………..
The two waited until late to step out again, and Nick was visibly relieved.
"I can't believe it. Those two…together?"
Ellis rolled his eyes. "It happens, I guess. 'Specially in somethin' like what we been through. You learn how much you need someone, that's for sure."
Nick shrugged. "I guess." They started up the stairs.
Truth be told, ever since the night Ellis had dragged him up here, they had both been coming every night. It broke the monotony and helped to ease the misery of the situation below them. To be completely honest, the older man was surprised no one else had opted to do this before them.
Not that Nick minded. After all, they had this entire area to themselves and it was so much less uncomfortable that way. For the first time in months, the two men had been able to grasp what it was like to have a little freedom again. They could step out into the open without zombies trying to tear them to shreds and without the bothersome presence of a huge crowd of people.
Tonight was no different. Both men strode toward the railing on the balcony and gazed down below, not even speaking. It was like the entire world talked around them, between the whistling of the wind (which was a little stronger today) and the water splashing against the ship. From above them, a flag smacked repeatedly against the pole, letting out a little 'CLANG' sound every time it hit.
They had time to observe things. Nick suddenly found himself very relieved he'd survived the infection. He hadn't just sat and taken in the world around him in a very long time.
Briefly, he turned his attention to Ellis, who had suddenly pointed to a spot in the water where a rather large fish had leapt out and splashed back in. He was more calm than usual, but the older man could tell the mechanic was excited by the sight.
"I bet he can go anywhere." The boy suddenly spoke, catching Nick off guard.
"Hmm?" The con-man rose an eyebrow, waiting for more.
"The fish. I bet he's happy as hell right now. He's swimmin' around in his water and he don't have to wait in line for his supper or get his hat taken away or nothin'."
For a few seconds, Nick just watched Ellis. There was a different look on his face—one that intrigued the con-man. It was distant…quiet. The kid's eyes were half-lidded and he continued to watch the spot as if the fish was still there. His forearms rested on the balcony's railing, fingers of one hand tapping the metal lightly. He didn't look sad, per se, but he didn't look pleased, either, and for a brief moment, Nick actually felt like he could relate.
"I don't like it here either, sport." The older man said, curving one side of his mouth upward in an attempted smile. "There's no telling how long we'll be here, but when we get out, I think I might cry." Of course, he was joking about the last part. Or maybe not. It really all depended on how long they were stuck in this hell hole.
Ellis laughed. "We can have one big sobbin' party, Nick."
"For once, I am not compelled to disagree." The con-man said with a shrug, and then he too was gazing out at the water. Suddenly, freedom sounded even better than before. He wasn't stupid enough to try, but it had Nick wondering if he should just jump out and swim to freedom. Knowing his luck, though, he'd probably run right into infected soil. Or a shark. He didn't like sharks.
Lost in thought, Nick's attention had completely faded from the boy standing next to him, and before he knew it, the kid was behind him. Fingers clasped on the con-man's shoulders and he was spun around. He glanced at Ellis in surprise, and before he could say anything, the boy's hand had found the back of his neck and his lips were against Nick's.
More caught off guard than anything, the older man broke the kiss.
"Ellis?" Immediately upon nudging the boy backward a bit, the cool wind hit his lips. Ellis' had been so warm against his, and the cold air reminded him violently that he may have actually liked what had just happened. His stomach rolled, and he sighed aloud.
"Sorry." Ellis responded immediately, though he didn't seem too embarrassed. "I didn't mean to screw up the moment or anything—"
"No." There was something in Nick's voice—something even he didn't understand—as he tugged the mechanic back toward him by the shoulder, kissing him briefly, then pulling back. "I was just thinking that we're supposed to shake hands or hug or something before this." There was an unspoken 'not that I really care' that oozed from the older man's demeanor as he pulled the kid in and kissed him again.
Perhaps Ellis had this in mind, but Nick hadn't planned on it in the slightest. Either way, he submitted to the boy's lips, the cold of the metal balcony railing seeping through his shirt and onto his back, but Ellis was warm against his chest and his lips were hot against Nick's, and the con-man was enjoying the contrast a little more than he wanted to let on. Silently, he wondered what had spurred this on in the first place, but soon, the mechanic was tugging on him by the hem of his shirt, stepping backward and toward the door. He followed along (which said a lot about the situation, considering Nick hated following along with anyone on anything) until they hit the door, and for a few seconds, he just pinned the boy against the door and ravaged him. Hands trailed along the younger man's chest and dropped down to his lower abdomen, stopping at the rim of the kid's pants.
"You looked so goofy with those overalls tied around your waist." He grunted, tongue probing the other man's mouth, chest pressed flush against Ellis', effectively pinning him against the door.
Ellis pulled away and grinned downward. "I miss 'em. And my goddamn hat." His hand slid to the handle on the door, turning the knob and stepping back from Nick as he entered the room. Silently, he mused on the way the older man sauntered toward him, back slightly hunched and determined expression plastered onto his face. It was so Nick and the boy stopped dead in his tracks, letting those arms wrap around his frame and welcoming those lips against his mouth. He grinned into the kiss and let one of his hands slide up underneath the older man's shirt.
Nick could feel the touch straight through to his very core. The fingers ran along his lower abdomen, then up to his chest and fuck, they were so damned cold from outside, but the contrast sent sparks of arousal up and down his spine, and there was no holding back the little pleasured sigh that came from his lips.
Ellis fed on that sound. The fact that Nick of all people was making the sound had the boy absolutely thrilled. It was so hard to get any sort of positive response out of Nick, and the fact that he was being allowed to touch the older man, let alone successfully pleasuring him was enough to have the young mechanic hard already.
His hand slid down from Nick's shirt, settling on the zipper to the older man's jeans (which still looked odd after having met Nick in that white suit he always bragged so much about), and his fingers worked the button open, then slid the zipper down.
"Fuck…" Nick couldn't hold the curse back when that ice-cold hand closed around his hardening member, the other hand tugging the pants down until they fell to the ground and pooled around the con-man's ankles. Somehow, he didn't care if someone walked up the stairs to see his bare ass. Well, he didn't care while Ellis was stroking him, because fuck if it wasn't almost like the boy had done this before.
Nick decided against asking the kid and instead brought his hips forward into the boy's hand, letting his own tentative hands drift downward to unbutton Ellis' jeans. He groaned and hunched his back, tugging the younger man's jeans down and returning the favor. The mechanic twitched in response, then grunted aloud.
"Damn, yer hand's cold as shit." Regardless of the comment, his body arched forward to meet the con-man's hand, and his free hand lifted upward, resting on the side of Nick's face, kissing him, breathing coming in little, aroused pants.
"Shut up." Nick growled into the kiss, stroking a little harder as he did so. "You know you like it."
"You ain't lyin', there." Ellis chuckled, then wheeled them around, pinning the con-man against the wall. Something about being twelve years younger and claiming the guy really did it for the southerner. He and Nick both knew that despite his age, he was the stronger of the two—working on motors kind of did that to you—and announcing that in the face of a stuck-up sonofabitch like Nick was such a fucking turn-on, and before Ellis knew it, he was fingering the older man, who squirmed awkwardly against the unwelcome fingers.
"The hell are you doing, kid?"
Ellis smirked and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and that familiar look of excitement—the one he wore when screaming like a crazy person, gun in his hand, zombie brains splattering all over his body—lit up his features, fingers pushing inside despite Nick's protest.
"How excitin' would it be," he started huskily, biting his bottom lip briefly, "to do this right here, right now? No zombies makes it kinda boring, but if we scream loud enough—"
"You scream, Overalls," Nick grunted, finally spreading his legs and allowing the kid more room for his ministrations, "And I will tear your voice box out. You hear me?" He was starting to come to his senses, but it was mixed in with lust and surprise and amazement and just plain being shocked that all of this had happened—was actually happening—right before his eyes.
Ellis nodded, and responded obediently, "Okay," before sliding another finger into the older man, eliciting a sound that was almost a groan, but the boy could tell it still hurt. As an apology for the initial pain, he drew himself forward and kissed the con-man's neck, his jawline, his chin, his shoulder, drawing upward to finally meet the man's lips.
Silently—well, among a string of little grunts and sighs—Nick thought, 'Southern comfort—the non-alcoholic kind', then mentally slapped himself for thinking such a cheesy thought and actually enjoying it more than the alcoholic kind.
Before Nick really knew what he was doing, he was moving downward onto the other's fingers like a fucking virgin, longing for more (and fuck , 'longing' was the only term that described it and Nick didn't like that), and Ellis was eager to oblige, pulling his fingers out and spitting into the palms of his hands. As he smoothed the substance onto his length, he grinned at the older man.
"I'll bet them soldiers won't let us have lube here, either." He laughed, and Nick contemplated punching him, but kissed him instead. Where the fuck this sentimental, lovey-dovey side of him was coming from, he wasn't sure, but it wasn't going away and he mentally decided to just deal with it until the moment passed.
"Shut up, Ellis." He growled, hands tugging on the boy's hair to reiterate the words. "Just get going, already." His manhood was pulsing and hard and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a hard-on—zombies weren't exactly arousing—and he suddenly remembered why people jerked off. Fucking hell, this was killing him.
"Okay," Ellis said again, then hoisted Nick higher up against the wall, using one hand to nudge the older man's legs around his waist, then pushed hard into him, gravity making the task a little easier.
For a brief moment, Nick wasn't sure if they'd be able to stay up with Ellis bearing both of their weights, but that length filling him and grinding so fucking hard against his body from the inside spurred him on and his legs tightened around the boy's waist, back bracing against the wall, palms too sweaty to really do any good pushing against the wall behind him, so he brought them forward and wrapped them around Ellis' neck instead. He might have looked kind of pathetic—like he was clinging for dear life—but they'd already come this far, and among the mess of interlocking bodies, sloppy kisses, and pleasured noises, there was an unspoken agreement that they'd both come way too far to stop now.
Nick grinned inwardly at the thought of someone entering the room and Ellis just waving and the two of them continuing like nothing had even happened, and then he realized he was grinning outwardly instead of inwardly and then he was laughing. For once, Ellis was confused.
"What's so funny?"
Nick merely shook his head, and despite that he didn't even know if it was past midnight yet or not, added, "Merry fucking Christmas, Overalls," followed by a grunt of pleasure, biting his lip immediately afterward.
"Ho-lee shit, I almost forgot!" Ellis laughed right along, and then they were going at it. Nick thrust downward onto the boy, almost seizing control himself, despite the fact that Ellis was bearing all the weight and trying to do most of the moving. Fuck, it was just in the con-man's nature to take control, and it was almost bothersome that he couldn't, but the boy hitting his prostate from within him managed to keep him content, and he could already feel himself getting close. "Merry Christmas, Nick." The words were spoken almost lovingly, and somehow Nick had expected it from a good little southern boy who probably celebrated every Christmas with a full-blown party, getting his presents from Momma and smiling like a kid in a candy store even though he was twenty three years old. He wondered if the mechanic still believed in Santa.
"Harder." The con-man demanded. He was so close and it wasn't hitting fast enough and Ellis didn't seem to be speeding up any. He didn't have control over the pace and he silently reminded himself to be the one leading next time around.
Wait…He did not just contemplate a round two. What the fuck had this apocalypse done to him?
Either way, Ellis obeyed and thrust hard into the older man, and he even went so far as to drag his hand down and seize the con-man's length, stroking relentlessly in time with his movements. And just like that, they were silent again, moving, both just trying to reach that release that was crawling its way into their systems, stomachs tight and aching with anticipation. Soon, they'd lost all sense of rhythm and were just moving, thrusting, kissing, groaning their ways to climax.
Nick's body exploded and he swore he'd seen stars, vision blurring and eyes rolling into the back of his skull. His back pressed fully against the wall behind him and his hands tightened in Ellis' hair and he was just kissing the boy, part of it from desire for control, the other part simply because he fucking wanted to. He could feel Ellis finishing off inside him, and as disgusting as he would've complained about it being in any other given situation, it was still white-hot and lighting his body like fucking fireworks, and he figured he could just get over it for now.
When he was done, he nudged Ellis with the palm of his hand, demanding with a voice husky on the afterglow, "Let me down."
Ellis obeyed and pulled out, stepping back and using his jeans to wipe the older man's release from his hand as he pulled them up and buttoned them. His hair was a mess and his face was flushed, but he didn't care. He never was one to care about his appearance much. Except when he was around his momma. It was just common courtesy to dress up for her.
Nick followed suit, but straightened out his hair and tried to clean his shirt, silently thanking his lucky stars that it too was white.
Ellis giggled, and Nick glared at him.
"What?"
"Ro and Coach ain't gonna care that yer a little mussed up, Nick." The boy crossed his arms somewhat smugly and Nick just kept glaring.
"I do this for me, dumbass." He growled back as he straightened his shirt. "Who cares what they think?"
"Oh yeah," Ellis suddenly spoke, completely out of context, "we should go tell them Merry Christmas."
Nick merely rolled his eyes and followed the boy down the stairs.