Title: Agreements (okay, seriously, someone help me with a new title?)
Fandom: Left 4 Dead 2
Pairing: NickxEllis
Rating: M, to be safe
Warnings: Slash, cursing, mentions of past mansex, brief and somewhat minor mansex, unprotected/unprepared mansex, mansex, mansex, character death. Did I say mansex enough? Will that cover the fact there's not much in there? I hope so. Also, overuse of certain words/phrases.
Pages: 7
Word Count: 2,992 (hey, a palindrome!)
Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead 2. The game, Nick, Ellis, and everyone else mentioned in this story belong to VALVe.

Just FYI, people. I hate this story, I really do, for a lot of reasons I won't bother to list. Find the story on my dA (naomiichiru; link is on homepage) and read the reasoning there and stuff.

Not looking for flames or even constructive criticism. Not even really looking for reviews. So...yeah. I mean, I guess if you enjoy it, you can say so. I'll be surprised if anyone actually likes this thing.

Also, GOD I hate the formatting on this site. It's so fucking picky. *grumbles*

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It was strange, this…silent, mutual agreement of ours.

It started with nothin' more than our eyes lockin', this lingerin' look between us.

Somehow, I understood it, what he wanted. I didn't need words to be spoken; I could read it there, in those sharp green eyes of his, even from across the room. And I understood it. The need. The need for the illusion of control, for somethin' else to focus on, somethin' other than the zombies outside of whatever buildin' we were in for the night.

I never got, however, why it was he never went to Rochelle. Or, maybe he did. Maybe he got turned down, turned away, or maybe he came to her and me. I don't know. Suppose I'd really rather not think about it.

We didn't "make love". He fucked me, clear an' simple. There was nothing lovin' or affectionate about it. It was raw an' hard an' full of little else but an animalistic and human need for release an' control.

There was no foreplay, no…real intimacy, either.

There were no kisses, no whispers in the dark. Aside from the occasional, quiet noise—but not a moan; never a moan—and heavy breathin', neither of us really made much of a sound. The sheets, our clothing, rustled; the mattress or table creaked; the Infected made their usual chatterin' noises outside; the wind howled an' sometimes there was rain, but that was about it for ambiance.

I wasn't allowed to touch him durin' these visits of his. That was another silent rule. He could do it all he wanted, since he had to anyway, at times. But we didn't undress each other like lovers would, 'cause I guess we weren't actually lovers. Not…in the traditional sense, I guess anyway. He didn't hold me, or touch me more than he needed to, and after he was done an' gone, I was always left to take care of my own matters by myself.

Strangely, I was okay with that. I dunno why, but I was.

I wasn't allowed to look at him either, durin' sex. He would always take me from behind, whether on a bed, against a wall, a table… It didn't matter. I guess it gave him more control, 'cause I was submittin' myself to him, or maybe it let him forget who it was he was fucking.

I wonder if he realized that I coulda told him 'no' that first night. That because I was allowin' all of this to happen, that I was the one holdin' the reins. Maybe that's why he did everything the way he did. I wonder what would have happened, how he would have reacted, had I denied him one'a those nights.

Would he have been angry? Would he have tried to take it anyway, or somehow convince me to do it? Or would he have just walked out without another look back?

I guess it's better that I hadn't done that. I never liked disappointing him. I don't know what it is about Nick that makes me feel the need to do anything for him, but I guess I'll never be able to fully understand that part of my mind.

And when it came to the sex itself, jus' about like everything else, Nick was also rough.

He was rough, but he was careful not to do anything that would potentially make me tell him that he wasn't getting' another goddamned lay out of me ever again. It got easier to handle after the first few times, so I didn't have any objections. I even grew to like the particular treatment. Certainly wouldn't change it if I had a choice, that's for sure.

I was perfectly all right with anything he wanted, just so long as he came to me—in more ways than one.

It went on like that for…God, I don't even know anymore. Days? Weeks? My ability to tell time's not like it used to be.

But now, without any warning at all, all of that's changed. Everything I'd known with him just…suddenly changed last night, here in a CEDA camp where we had been for the past three days, waitin' for our test results so we knew if we'd join the other Immune Survivors on the cruise ships they'd set up.

It…was entirely unsettling, that change, enough that it clenched my heart so tightly that every last bit of my body ached. I swear to God, even my soul ached.

It was like he already knew everything.

I'd never seen him like that, and to be honest, it terrified the ever-livin' hell out of me. He looked…broken. Tired. Even more tired than I'd ever seen him after a particularly long an' difficult battle. He looked naked and lost, even, without his suit or his rings. (Our clothes had been taken from us, because they were spattered with Fuck knew what anymore, and CEDA didn't wanna risk those that weren't Immune catchin' the Infection somehow from whatever the rest of us that actually fought our way through the zombies were covered in.)

But on top of all'a that, he looked afraid.

"You okay?" was the only thing I could think of saying, an' I'd gotten up to cross the small space when he simply shook his head.

'Course not. Until we were on one of those ships, we'd never be okay.

I stood there, watchin' him watch the floor, hopin' that he'd at least say something because the silence was goin' to, quite honestly, drive me up the damn wall. After a few moments, I'd opened my mouth to break it again myself, but then he looked up at me with such an intense fierceness in his eyes that I forgot how to breathe.

And then he was on me, his hands on my hips, steering me back towards one of the cots in the tent.

Our eyes only broke contact when he shoved me backwards onto the thin mattress, because he'd done it hard enough that I fell back and it took me a second or two to right myself. By the time I'd sat up again, he was already shirtless an' working on the sweat pants they'd given us, which looked so out of place on Nick. Guess that was jus' because I was so used to him in that suit of his, I never thought about seein' 'im in somethin' else.

I quickly followed his example, but I'd only gotten my own shirt off when he was on me again, his fingers around my wrists to pin them over my head as he pressed me back onto the bed. And yet again, I completely forgot how to breathe, b'cause I'd never had his face that close to mine before. Not unless he was yelling at me for doin' stupid shit, or makin' sure I was okay if I had gotten hurt worse than we'd grown to consider…normal.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, him hoverin' over me lookin', for all the world…still lost, for lack of a better word, like he didn't understand why he was suddenly breakin' his own rules, despite knowin' exactly why.

And I knew that I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help but test exactly how far the rule breaking could go before he left.

With only gentle tugging, I managed to get him to release my wrists, but it made the distance between us increase, as he shifted to support his weight on his hands. That was perfectly okay with me, because Nick hadn't gotten up an' walked out, yet. If nothing else, it seemed like he was studying me more from that angle. All the same, I tried to take things slow.

I brought my hands up, trailed them up his arms, over his shoulders, his neck, along his jaw line—all so much slower than I honestly thought I was capable of—until I was stroking his cheeks. Slow an' gentle, coaxin' him away from his shell before he had the chance to retreat into it…

The lost look was replaced by…well, I'm not really sure, because I'd never seen that particular mixture of emotions before an' it was all so swirled together that I couldn't pull 'em apart well enough to tack a name to each one. His eyes were searchin' mine, my face, as if I was the one to have all the answers for once. Was he waitin' for somethin'? For me to say somethin'?

I took my chances and found my voice.

"Do whatever you need to do. I'm yours, Nick. It's okay." I tried to be as soothing as I could, my fingers still movin' over his cheeks, an' for a bit, I though that maybe I shouldn't have said anything after all, because I could have sworn he was about to leave.

Then his expression changed, and for a second, I though the old Nick had returned. But, then he did somethin' I'd come to believe would never, ever happen.

He kissed me, and like our nights together before, there was nothing gentle about it. It was rough, but there was also something else there, something I couldn't put into words at the time, no matter how much I tried. Something I'm still afraid to put into words, even as I spare a glance over to him now.

His kisses were all teeth and tongue, biting and nipping and sucking and hard and fast, and the intensity of it all, how aggressive he was being—even the desperation behind it—made me incredibly lightheaded, an' I tried to give as good as he did, but it was hard to keep up. I guess it was enough because he made this…sound. This…this growl, low, in the back of his throat, and I felt his hands come back to my hips for only a second before my sweatpants were ripped down.

Nick broke the kiss to pull them all the way off and toss them aside before he settled between my legs, breathing heavily an' just…watching me.

I don't know what he saw, but I guess he liked whatever it was well enough, 'cause his gaze had turned predatory, and he'd had one of those damned smirks on his face. It was enough that even after all this time, I felt my face heat up. This was…a lot different than I'd grown used to, but God, I already felt ready to burst.

And that bastard… That smirk of his only grew more devilish when I started blushing like a virgin on prom night—it disappeared quickly enough with little more than a shift of my hips, though.

Even though things had changed, we still didn't bother with foreplay. There just…wasn't a need for it, I guess. And when he reached down to prep me, I stopped him, for the first time. I guess that startled him because he looked up at me like he feared I was going to say no, after…after everything. But I wasn't. I had every intention of making the night last as long as fuckin' possible. But I guess Nick didn't realize that. "Jus'… Jus' take me. Please." I actually begged him. He gave me that look he usually does whenever I do somethin' stupid, but the more I pleaded, the more desperate I sounded, the less he fought against it.

I needed it. I knew he didn't want to risk hurting me, but… I s'pose now, I realized last night that I knew, too. That we both knew. I didn't mind bein' in pain, if this was going to be our final night together.

So, Nick gave in, an' I closed my eyes, preparin' to force myself to relax, but my body had become so accustomed to his that, with a slow but steady persistence, he was seated fully inside'a me with only the barest hint of resistance. The only inkling of pain I felt was the burn of being suddenly stretched open. It was a good burn, a welcomed discomfort.

He remained still for a moment, shiftin' my legs a little higher around his waist, before he started moving, slowly at first. It didn't remain that; I don't even think he could actually do slow and stick with it. But that was perfectly fine. I preferred it fast and hard and rough, because that was Nick.

I wanted Nick.

I wanted everything he could give me.

But… I needed him more than I wanted him, and to some minor extent… I think he felt the same way.

… No. I knew he did, or else last night wouldn't've happened. Not…the way it did, anyway. If he didn't, I wouldn't've gotten to feel what it was like to feel his hand in my hair, or his breath against my neck. I wouldn't've known what it was like to have been kissed by him.

A small, tiny part of me wishes things had remained the same.

Because now, I'm left wantin' something I can't have, ever again…

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We were still wrapped up in each other when they came.

We're not Immune. Or, rather, we are, but we're not the same as other Immunes. They say we're Carriers.

We're a risk; they don't know if the Infection will eventually die out in our systems, but they don't intend to find out. They don't wanna wind up lettin' us go back to "normal society" and Infect anyone that might not be Immune when all was said and done.

They didn't want to fuck up again, because they still didn't know how the Infection was spread.

So, the military brought us to where we are now: away from the camp in an isolated area with a large, fenced-in fire pit off in the distance, large enough that whatever fire was set in it would probably light up even the morning sky. I guess that's how they planned on stoppin' us from spreadin' the Flu.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that there won't be a funeral for us; only a funeral pyre.

I should be scared. I should be panicking and begging and crying. And yet, I only find myself wondering how Coach and Rochelle are doin'. We hadn't seen much of them since we got here, but clearly they were Immune or else they'd be here, with us.

It was…a sort of relief, honestly. They'll be okay. They'll get on a ship to wait out the Infection, and life will start to repair itself. They'll move on, find family if they have any left, and start over or start again.

I just wish I coulda said goodbye and thanks for everything, y'know? But I guess it's better this way.

I also find myself wondering if the reason Nick an' I were drawn together the way we were, is because we're Carriers. Some sort of… Pheromone-fueled attraction or something. I dunno.

I don't really care.

Whatever it is…I can honestly admit that I'm happy it happened. No, I'm not happy it's ending this way, but I wouldn't give up this for Immunity any day, so long as me an' him are together in the end. That's all I care about. That's all that's important to me.

It's only because of Nick that I'm able to stand here, with my head held high, starin' down the barrels of the guns pointed at us, held by two soldiers while a third looks on. If I was alone out here, I probably would've lost it.

I wish I could thank him. I wish I coulda told him how he made me feel, 'fore it was all too late.

I can feel my heartbeat crawl to a halt as I wait for the end, and I reach for his hand just as Nick lifts his to reach for mine, because it's the only way I can tell him, without being able to speak.

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But their fingertips don't even get to touch before the order to "Fire!" is given and both men hit the ground, a bullet hole in the center of their foreheads. Neither screamed in pain, neither writhed in agony. The third soldier, the one who issued the order, checks for a pulse. There's nothing. It's a small blessing that death, at least, happened upon them this way. They probably didn't feel a thing.

The gunshots were deafening, even to the soldiers who had grown used to the sound. It never got any easier, to put down the life of another human being, but it was the job they had signed on for, when they sold their souls to the Military.

All the same, one of them wishes he didn't have to do any of this, and he walks forward to close their eyes. He murmurs a quick prayer to his own deity, moving to help carry the bodies to the pit. The man named Nicolas is lowered in first, followed by the younger one named Ellis.

He hates knowing their names. Seeing their faces, and having seen these two so intimately entwined when their time came… That had been enough, but he knew their names. It was hard enough killing them. This was harder.

They didn't know how long the Infection lasted within a Carrier, and things had become desperate enough that CEDA certainly no longer wanted to take the time to figure anything out.

The problem had to be eradicated, and anything deemed a threat to the future of what was left of the United States was to be dealt with deadly force.

That was their order, no matter how unfair it was.

He spares a glance to his own teammate and knows he feels the same. They do their best to place both of the men in a manner similar to how they'd been just half an hour ago, because if they were together in life, they should be together in death.

It's the very least they can do.