Disclaimer: Stephen King owns 'Riding the Bullet.' Though he probably wouldn't mind what I've done to George and Alan...
Author's Note: Okay, so this is my first sex scene ever! And not only sex, also sort of rape-y. Woot. So that explains why the sex scene sucks so much. If it doesn't suck, then you can thank all the fanfiction I've read. Hm...I'm sort of sad now. I thought my first sex scene would have been HP-oriented. But there's so many of those, so...whatever.
Right, I just recently read Everything's Eventual, in which 'Riding the Bullet' is published. As soon as I read it, I was like, dude, totally. Sex. Yeah. So, go ahead and read it.
Warning: First, it's a bit out of sync with the story. I kind of messed with times in the car. Also, I don't know how decomposed people are after being dead for...two years, was it? So I took some liberties with that. I just guessed and made things rotten that I wanted to. :D
Alan felt himself begin to shake. Choose? How could he choose between himself and his mother? It wasn't fair! There was no way he could do that.
He turned to look at George, and was startled to see the…corpse…looking right back at him. "I can't choose!" Alan cried. "Why are you making me do this? Why? Please, please, stop and let me out!"
George smiled at him, a quick quirking of the lips that revealed a rotting tongue and blank spaces where teeth used to be. "Now, now, Alan, you know I can't do that. It's a simple enough choice! You, or her. Hurry up, we're almost at the edge of the town!"
Alan felt like bursting into tears. George was still watching him, and Alan had a place in the very back of his head that worried over the fact that George hadn't looked at the road for nearly three minutes.
"Please, isn't there some way? Can't we both live? I mean, she's my mother! I can't let her die!"
"Well," said George, smirking awfully, "Looks like you've made up your mind then. Going to let her live. Very kind of you. Really. I'm quite proud."
"No!" yelled Alan, "No, I was just thinking out loud! There has to be a way out of this, doesn't there? What kind of God would allow this thing to happen?
"I just wanted to go and see my mom in the hospital!" sobbed out Alan.
"Well…There is—But no, you wouldn't be interested in that."
For the first time since getting into the car, Alan perked up. "No, no, what is it? Tell me! Please! I'd do anything!" he begged.
George's smirk widened, and a lip split and oozed pus. "If you want me to do a favor for you—such as allowing you and your mother to live—then you've got to do a favor for me."
Alan had a brief image of running around the country, delivering invitations about parties for the dead. Then he noticed the way George was looking at him, the way George's eyes were drifting up and down his body. Sizing him up. Checking him out.
Alan went a pasty green with fear.
"What—what---y-you don't mean…" Alan trailed off.
"Oh yes," purred George, "I mean exactly that. So, what do you say? Two lives for one night with me? Not a bad deal, I'd say." George raised a hand from the steering wheel and stroked Alan's cheek.
Alan felt paralyzed with fear. Sleep with a corpse? Of course, the very idea of sex was not, in itself, a scary one. Alan was in college after all. He'd 'experimented.' He knew what happened when two men lay together. But a corpse?
And yet…If he did this, his mother would get well, and neither of them would have to die. George was right, it was not a bad deal. Could he do it? Could he stand to let those decaying lips touch him, those dead fingers stroke him, that rotted prick inside him?
Alan thought that, perhaps, if it would save him from making a horrible decision, he just might be able to.
George was still staring at him intensely. "So kiddo, what's up?"
Taking a deep, deep breath, Alan nodded once. "I'll do it."
George smiled. "Good choice."
Suddenly he jerked on the steering wheel, sending Alan flying into the window and hurling the car over to the side of the road. "Don't worry," he whispered, suddenly right next to Alan's face, "I'll be gentle."
Then he was all over Alan, fingers ripping the button off of Alan's jeans, tearing his underwear in two with the force of his grip.
Alan whimpered in sudden and total fear. But he couldn't go back now.
There was cold breath in his face, smelling of graveyard dirt and death, before George shoved his tongue in Alan's mouth. It was like a frozen worm, raping his own before pulling out. The worst part was, when George ended the kiss, if you could call it that, a morsel of his own tongue fell off, leaving a rotted bit of flesh in Alan's mouth. Alan shuddered and tried to keep from vomiting, instead spitting the piece onto the dash of the car and hoping to God George wouldn't notice.
George, in fact, couldn't notice, because he was too busy sucking on Alan's neck, bring blood to the surface and marking him.
Alan groaned in terror when George started fumbling with his own pants, staring in spite of himself, waiting to see what would emerge.
George was hard, was the first thing Alan noticed, and then, closely following that, it was black. Alan thought it a wonder that it hadn't fallen off yet, and then had a terrible moment when he knew, just knew, that it would fall off inside of him. He mewed in despair.
George smiled, as if he knew just what Alan was thinking. In fact, it was very likely George did know what he was thinking.
"Don't worry, it won't. Now turn around." George ordered.
Alan gave one last glance into George's eyes, hoping that the corpse would smile sincerely and yell "Haha, got you! It was all a joke!" but he didn't. Instead he made a little twirling motion with his fingers. Alan sighed and turned around, trying his best to hold his tears in.
George's breath on his neck, giving him the chills. "Sorry, but I don't have anything to ease the way. It will be painful." This last said with a hint of a sneer.
Alan felt it, resting on his buttocks, leaving some sort of decaying smear. Then George was pushing inside him, tearing him, and all Alan could think of was the pain, my God the pain!
And then George was pulling out, sweet relief, only to push back in. Alan bit his hand, then his lip, trying to keep from screaming.
As soon as he thought George couldn't last much longer, couldn't, and then it would be over, George would catch his second wind, and finally Alan couldn't stop himself, and he let out a shriek.
Finally, as though that's what George had been waiting for, he let out a guttural moan and stilled.
He pulled himself out and tucked himself back into his pants, patting Alan on the back as though to reassure himself that the young man was still there. "Come on, get up now. It's over."
When Alan didn't respond, George sighed and pulled his tattered underwear and ripped jeans up his body, turning him around so that he sat up properly.
After he started up the car, they drove in silence, Alan in a state of minor shock, and George contemplating the loss of a life. But at least he'd gotten some enjoyment, even if he didn't get to bring someone back.
Within twenty minutes, they had reached the hospital. Leaning across Alan, George opened the door for him and then pushed Alan out. "Your mom will get well soon," he said. Then he was gone.
Stumbling only a bit, Alan went inside.
His mother did get well, and Alan soon half convinced himself that the encounter with the corpse had never happened.
But he never lost the hicky.
A/N: So, what'd you think? Was the sex scene awful? Should I never write smute again? Did you like the story? Review, my mofo's, and tell me.