The next few days pass by slow.
Painfully slow.
But, eventually, the weekend comes. The weekend has positive implications for me. It means that the weekend shift is taking over the day to day task around the community, allowing me two full days at home. Carl hasn't returned to the wall since the attack. Don't get me wrong, he's wanted to, but Rick didn't think he was in any physical condition to be close to walkers. I'd been visiting Carl everyday whenever I got a break and, of course, in the evenings when I was home. I hate not being able to see him and its always a relief when I do, but now that its the weekend, at least, for the moment, I don't have to worry about that. Over the past couple of days, Carl's physical injuries have begun to heal. The bruising around his eyes and across his face have begun to fade, but not before turning into a very unsightly shade of purple and pink.
And he hates it.
Utterly hates it.
Like I said, physically Carl has begun to heal. Emotionally, however, I'm not so sure he's even begun the process. All throughout the week he's been rather withdrawn. Rick, Michonne, and I have all individually noticed it at one point or another.
It hurts me to see him like this.
It hurts because I know what he's going through.
The first time I went through being bullied over my sexuality—a trait that shouldn't even matter to anyone outside of me and whoever I'm seeing—I stayed in my room all weekend and attempted to skip school the proceeding week. For Carl, though, I don't think its just the sheer brutality of everything that's hitting him. He was already acting out of it before yesterday. The attack only compounded on everything he was already dealing with. At first, I resolved to give him his space. Not everything can be solved by constantly being in another person's personal space. This is especially true with Carl. Sometimes he just needs time to sort his thoughts out in his head. But as the days tick by, I'm becoming more and more concerned about him and his mentality.
Today that ends.
Today I'm going to find out what is going on and at least attempt to help him. Whether I can or not remains to be seen.
This particularly Saturday morning, Rick and Michonne are out visiting with Glenn and Maggie, leaving Judith with Carol, and Carl and I alone in the house. In a way, I think Rick did it purposefully. Rick is attuned to Carl, emotionally, in an entirely different way than Michonne or I. Being his father, Rick has a unique insight into his son's behavior. One I can only hope I can compensate for one day when its just Carl and I. Because of this insight, I believe Rick purposefully left Carl alone, knowing that, usually, when the two of us spend quality time together, Carl's mood will improve. I'm about to test that theory of his and, hopefully, prove him right.
After dressing for the day in the most casual clothing I've worn since the apocalypse began—a simple t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts—I find Carl sitting quietly on the back porch of our Alexandrian home, staring idly off into space. My movement behind him doesn't seem to disturb him as it would me. I make my way over to where he's sitting and casually plop down next to him.
He still doesn't seem to register I'm here.
"Hey," I finally try. "You doing okay this morning?"
Finally he acknowledges me with a glance, "I'm alright."
Lie.
I don't even need the little voice in my head to tell me that much. But, then again, what am I expecting him to say? Sometimes, in these incidents, one doesn't know how to feel except "alright". Today, though, I'm not in a giving-up sort of mood.
"You don't look okay." I reply bluntly.
He regards me with a stare this time.
Carl's gaze is only made more intense by the outline of swollen purplish skin around his eye and around his nose. My heart jerks in my chest and is immediately filled with a conflicting sense of sadness and anger. Sadness that Carl is hurting. Anger that anyone would dare put their hands on him like that. It is just too infuriating of a thought to even describe with words.
He exhales loudly through his nose, "I'm just thinkin'."
"About?"
The anticipation is killing me.
"Just, everything." he replies.
Well that's specific, Carl.
Nevertheless, he must see the look of desire for further information in my eyes and decides to elaborate.
"Its just, this place. Are we really safe here?" Carl begins. "We're acting all normal... Well... as normal as possible, but..."
"You're thinking its still too good to be true?" I offer.
He nods, "Yeah. Especially after... everything that happened the other day."
Sounds to me like he's been doubting this place since we got here and the business with Garret and his band of bullies has only made that mistrust run deeper.
"We thought the prison was safe. Even I did." he goes on. "We thought Terminus was going to be safe. Look how that turned out. Who's to say this place won't turn out to be just the same?"
I think for a moment.
I hadn't been at the prison, so I couldn't attest to that. He has a point about Terminus, though. Right up until Rick noticed that the cannibals were in possession of our friends' belongings, we had all thought we'd hit our big break. That had nearly ended up with me eaten, and did end with me getting shot. The memory triggers a sore throb in the region of my scar.
"We don't know." I reply. Probably not the best answer to give someone who is visibly worried about all of this, but I have more to say. "But we have to give it a chance. Is that really what's bothering you, though?"
I'm not convinced that it is.
He pauses for a moment, eyes glazing over. There's a profound sense of sadness and uncertainty in those perfect gem-like eyes of his.
"No." he finally relents.
"What is it?" I press in. "You can tell me, Carl. You know you can."
His gaze comes up to meet mine.
"The other day." he begins. "Why did they do that? I've run it through my head over and over and I just don't understand. They kept calling me a 'faggot' and asking about my 'boyfriend'. Then they... you know."
I nod understandingly.
The memory is still full of searing anger.
"But why?" he goes on. "I didn't do anything to them. We didn't do anything to them."
I sigh. "Carl, listen to me. When all this went down, you weren't old enough to see this. To see what people like them do to people like us. That word they used—faggot—that's a very mean way of saying that someone is 'gay'. Its a derogatory term, used to make fun of people that are gay."
"But why would anyone do that?"
Oh, Carl.
Sometimes he can be so innocent-sounding without even trying. I occasionally wish I was like him. Naive to some of the horrors of the previous world. Still, its long past time that he understand and I'm okay with being the one to explain this stuff to him.
"Its just human nature, I guess." I reply after a moment. "Some people just have to hate people that are different than them. Usually for no reason at all. Some of those people, like Garret and his friends, think its okay to hurt others for that same reason. Its revolting."
"Did this ever happen to you?"
The question hits me square in the chest.
I'd told Michonne about my history with this, but Carl? Not yet.
But it is time he knows.
As I prepare to explain to him what happened to me, my mind powerfully flashes back to those days. But one incident stands out more than the rest. Its that one that resonates powerfully within my mind.
####
((Tanner's P.o.V. - Flashback))
The bell rings marking the end of lunch and the beginning of gym class.
I hate gym class.
I hate it for more than one reason.
For one, I'm not athletic—at all. I'm physically fit, but in a gym class, that doesn't always mean you're good at the activities we do and I'm certainly in the category of not good. Secondly, the coach that teaches the class is an absolute asshole. Coach Black is a short, slightly pudgy, aging man with a large nose and the attitude of a pissed-off rhino. He is quite possibly one of the most undesirable faculty members in my school. As if that wasn't bad enough to begin with, he has taken a particular disliking to me and makes no attempts to hide it. What I ever did to offend the guy, I'll never know. And yet, even with as horrible as Coach Black is, he is not the worst thing about gym class.
Oh no.
That honor belonged solely to the biggest asshole of them all.
Bryce Williams.
He and his posse of jock football players are by far the most insufferable people I've ever met. Why, you may ask? Aside from possessing an ego larger than most pop stars, they are also the school's most well known bullies. Every school's gotta have one, right? Unfortunately for me, despite the fact that I am virtually harmless to them, Bryce and his crew are obsessed with making my life as miserable as they can possibly do so. All of this because they suspect I am gay. They're right, though I've never told them so. In fact, I've never told anyone. Nevertheless, secrets never stay secrets forever, and somehow or another, Bryce and friends labeled me gay and have been relentless ever since.
It started with the stares.
I'd get glares in the lunch room, or in Spanish—a class I share with Bryce and two of his buddies, Connor and Eric.
At that point, I couldn't care less. Stares I can handle. Not to mention, I'm quite the oblivious child, so I rarely noticed them doing so, unless they went out of their way to be obvious about it. But, as things usually do, the incidents escalated. Stares evolved into name calling and, boy, did they have some creative names for me. Faggot, bum boy, fairy, Peter puffer, Nancy; you name it, they called me it. The names bothered me at first. Bothered me a lot, actually. I started trying to avoid Bryce and his group at this point, but there was no escape. Only a month went by before they began to threaten me with physical violence. At the time, I just didn't understand what I'd done to make them so aggressive. I am never mean or vindictive to anyone; never harmed anyone. In fact, I am every bit of what you'd call a 'loner'—keeping mostly to myself whenever possible. Still, these guys just wouldn't leave me be.
I thought that'd be as far as things went.
I was wrong.
In gym class, I have the distinct pleasure of sharing a class period with not only Bryce but all of his friends. Combine that with a teacher that doesn't like you and isn't about to stick up for you, and you have a very bad combination.
This particular day, I push past our normal routine of exercises and activities. My only thoughts are of getting out of here as quickly as I possibly can. If I can just make it past this period, Bryce isn't in any other of my classes—nor are his pals—and I can possibly finally begin to enjoy my day. We wrap up our activities five minutes earlier and head immediately to the locker room to change back into our regular school clothes. My locker is on the opposite side of room, pretty much as far away from Bryce's as possible. It wasn't intentional, but now that he's taken a most unfriendly interest in me, it is rather advantageous. Only today, he isn't letting distance keep us apart. Before I can completely change out of my gym outfit, both Bryce and his group of about five to six friends, are surrounding me, blocking all routes of escape.
"Saw you looking at Nick's ass at lunch, faggot." Bryce starts in. "Can't you control yourself for even a day?"
Nick.
He's a kid I sit near at lunch; a year and a half older than me; and one of the many heart-throbs all the teenage girls in the school squeal about when they think no one is listening. Because he receives this kind of attention, Bryce and friends have somehow gotten it into their head that I have a big man-crush on Nick myself. I don't, but its worthless to try and convince the bully squad of that. They would just take it as me denying it to save my own ass and pick on me even more. So, I go to my usual defense.
Ignore them.
"What's wrong, Nancy?" Eric chimes in. "Got nothing to say for yourself?"
I have to admit, at this point, I'm getting mad.
Furious, even.
When you're picked on eight hours a day, five days a week, on a near constant basis, things like this begin to get old very quickly. I'm fast approaching the end of my patience. But what am I going to do when I get to that point? Take all of them on at once? I may as well kick my own ass. I can feel the physical effects of this anger creeping into my cheeks. No doubt, they're probably red with fury. Of course, the bullies don't see it as rage. They see it as another feature to pick at while they have me surrounded.
"Look at that!" Bryce chirps to his followers. "The little fag doesn't even try to deny it! He's blushing!"
Getting madder.
"What a queer!" Connor joins in on the fun, even as the others start laughing along with them. "Little cocksucker wants some of Nick!"
My fists clench.
"Look, guys!" this time its one of Bryce's friends whose name I'm not familiar with. Tall, stocky, and curly hair. "Little cocksucker is getting mad."
That's an understatement. Furious and mortified would be more proper adjectives.
"Is he now?" Bryce's entire demeanor changes. From arrogant prick to curious. Somewhat angered. Its such a sudden shift that I am completely caught off guard by it. "Well, we'll just have to fix his little attitude, now won't we, guys?"
That's when things go wrong.
Terribly.
Bryce steps out of his little ring, knowing I have no where to run, and nothing but lockers behind me. His gaze is hateful and intense, and he stands no more than five feet in front of me. I eye him suspiciously, eyes narrowed to show that I don't particularly care for his sudden intrusion of my personal space. Not that my objection matters any to him. He'll do it whether I tell him to back off or not.
"Think you can take me, faggot?" he breathes.
Suddenly, he lunges for me. Its a light shove that pushes me slightly backwards. Again I'm caught off guard, slightly stunned by the sudden escalation to physical contact. Fear grips my heart. If it were only one of them, I could make an escape. But with all of them in a ring around me like this, I know that if he doesn't back off and leave me be, this is about to turn really bad, really fast. He steps closer and pushes again—this time harder than before. My back slams hard against the metal locker, sending a sharp pain up my spine which causes me to wince.
"Not so tough now, are you?!" Bryce nearly shouts at me.
"Kick his ass, Bryce!" Eric whoops.
"Think I should?" Bryce glances back over his shoulder, voice full of pride; an almost Satanic grin on his face.
"Yeah, Bryce." its Connor again. "We've been way too easy on this queer. Teach him a lesson."
I can feel my heart slamming against the outer wall of my chest.
I'm not one for violence.
Especially violence aimed at me. Maybe if I can reason with them, they'll relent. That's such a stupid thought, but its all I have right now. The only chance I've got of getting out of this thing unscathed.
"Guys, wait." I put up my hands in surrender. "I—"
Pain.
Sharp pain.
And my breath is completely gone.
It takes me a moment to realize Bryce's fist is in my gut, knocking the air out of my lungs, and sending pain rippling through my nervous system.
"Who said you could talk, faggot?" Bryce's voice is cold. Icy.
My strength leaves me and my knees buckle. To my complete and utter humiliation, I'm actually on my knees in front of this bully. This inhuman monster. He revels in it. His friends snicker. They've probably been waiting to get me into a position like this. Without warning, Bryce violently seizes my hair painfully in his fist, causing me to react on instinct and throw my hands up, gripping at his one hand in a futile attempt to make him release me. Its useless though. He isn't about to let go now. His next move is to violently pull my head—by my hair—into his crotch. I fight back as best I can, through the pain, but his grip on me is iron solid and I'm forced to resume this filthy position, nose brushing lightly against his gym shorts.
"That what you want, huh, you fuckin' cocksucker?!" Bryce taunts me, even as he continues to push me into him. Even as I continue to attempt to push away."I bet you fuckin' like that."
I'm pushed into a corner emotionally.
Scared. Angry. Humiliated.
All at once, my mentality snaps, and my body acts on its own. I open my mouth wide and bite down on his inner thigh, where he's pressing my nose rather suggestively, as hard as I possibly can. Bryce yelps in pain, releasing my hair, and leaping backwards away from my offending teeth. Pain throbs through both my abdomen and my head and I attempt to make a rise to my feet. His friends aren't having that. Angered by my sudden act of retaliation, the invisible barrier that was holding them back from joining their leader in assaulting me is suddenly broken and a flurry of punches and kicks rain down on me from all sides. At some point, my head hits the locker behind me hard enough for me to black out.
A momentary reprieve from my endless torment.
####
I wake up forty-five minutes later in the Nurse's office.
Every inch of my body is screaming in pain. I try to move but the moment I do, my body is racked by an electrical pulse of mind numbing pain. The nurse, who is standing nearby, notices my movement and makes haste to my bedside.
"Relax, Tanner." she coos, placing her hand gently on my chest to prevent me from moving further. "It'll take some time before you can move after what you've been through."
My breath is heavy.
Almost like my body is fighting to get more oxygen. Even through that limitation, I manage to ask her the first question that pops into my head.
"Where's Bryce?" I hiss.
"Don't worry, Tanner." she assures me. "He won't be coming near you any longer."
So that's it then?
Its done?
Bryce is gone, but what about his friends? Will they continue to torment me even after all of this? And what about the other students? These questions swirl around in my head like a powerful hurricane. And then the self-hate starts rolling in. If only I was bold enough to defend myself. If only I was strong enough to say "No". To fight back. I curse my powerlessness. Its a completely crushing feeling, being bullied. Like your life isn't worth anything and you exist only to fulfill the sadistic pleasures of your tormentors.
I won't ever allow that to happen to someone I know!
When the time comes, and I have someone, I'll be strong enough to defend them from this.
To shield them.
I've just gotta be...
And so, with those thoughts freshly cemented in my mind, and, succumbing to my wounds, I fall once more into a deep sleep.
And then the memory ends...
####
((Tanner's P.o.V. - Present))
I'm different than I was then.
Stronger; both physically and mentally.
I'd still broken my promise, though. I hadn't been able to protect the one I love the most from that sort of evil. Not completely, anyways. Carl was still hurt and the combination of seeing him hurt and the memories it invoked is incredibly painful. I finish telling Carl my story, leaving him in a daze quite unlike any I've ever seen him in. His facial expression is a mixture of shock and horror, and yet, his fist is clenched tightly—leaving his knuckles white and arm shaking—clearly indicating a great volume of rage and anger. His breathing is labored, almost as if my description of what had happened to me has taken him back to day the same thing happened to him. He doesn't have to say it. I know what he's experiencing. Its the same rush I have felt everytime his life has been in danger or I thought it was in danger. Protectiveness. A powerful emotion in its own right, between two people that love each other, it is an emotion that springs forth at the first indication of danger.
Even the memory of danger can bring it forth.
The thick emotion of the moment builds to its climax and I see Carl's demeanor shatter.
A single tear pushes its way out of his tear duct and slides down his face. That tear turns to two. Then three. Suddenly, its as if the entire waterworks are activated, and Carl is shuttering, despite the fact that he hasn't blinked in several seconds. He just stares at me with that mixed horror expression, as if he can't shake off the mental images flooding his brain.
That is not the reaction I intended to induce.
I'm quick, though, sweeping him into my embrace; clutching him ever so tightly against my chest. My hand finds its way to the back of his head and my fingers entwine into his hair, further bonding us together. We stay like that for a moment. Emotion crushing down on the both of us. Neither of us certain what to do next. Whatever the case, there is one thing I know for certain. A new understanding has formed between the two of us. Carl and I understand each other on an array of issues, but this was never one we'd had to consider before now. It is just one more thing that ties us closer and closer together. Eventually, he leans out of my embrace, and I gently wipe the remaining tears out of his eyes—careful as a brush across his bruising.
"Tanner?" he says after a moment.
"Yes, Carl?"
"I'm sorry I couldn't be there for that." he declares. "I wish I could've been there for you like you've been here for me."
Many times since I've known him, Carl has made my heart melt.
This time is different.
The feelings that suddenly surge through me are equivalent to a gunshot in the chest. They slam through my mercilessly, flooding every inch of my nervous system, causing my eyes to water and my hands to tremble all at once.
"Carl," I manage to choke past the emotion building in my throat. "You didn't even know I existed then. As fucked up as it is, we have this apocalypse to thank for bringing us together."
"Yeah," Carl replies, leaning forward so that his head lightly rests on my collar bone. "Doesn't keep me from wishing I could've been there, though."
That's such a sweet thought from him.
There is nothing either of us can do to change the harshness of the other's past, but we both share the same thought, that we wish we could've been there for one another when shit hit the fan. Suddenly, his words from several days ago come rushing back and a light smile touches my lips.
"You're here now." I say, nuzzling the top of his head. "That's all that matters."
"C'mon." he says, taking my wrist in his hand. "We haven't showered in awhile. Let's go get one."
"You trying to say I stink?" I reply, smirking devilishly at him.
He smirks back, and somehow—even though his bruises are still obvious on his face—that smile of his has a way of making him look ten times more handsome than he already is. Its the same smirk he uses whenever we're joking around with each other. Oh, how I've missed that smirk of his.
"Maybe." he chuckles bluntly.
Without a word more, he pulls me up after him, and we escape away into the house we have to ourselves, smiles painted across both of our faces.
####
((Carl's P.o.V.))
Steam billows up from the tub as hot water streaks down from the shower head, dousing Tanner and I in the glorious heat of hot water.
Its been over a month since the cabin—the last time we'd felt hot water—and I must say that it feels exquisite. It has also been awhile since Tanner and I last bathed together. Even here in Alexandria, with my dad and Michonne constantly bumping around the house, there is never really an opportunity to sneak around and do this. Having him here with me makes me feel safe; comforts the ache that has been filling my chest cavity for this entire week; and when he begins the process of lathering me up, I completely surrender to him—giving him access to all of me.
He runs his fingers through my hair—turning it into a large ball of soap atop my head—runs his hands down my neck, then my back; around my torso to my chest and down my stomach. Before long, I feel him reach my more intimate areas. Being bathed by another person, especially the person you love, is the weirdest and yet most satisfying feeling in the world. It demonstrates the deep, profound love that Tanner has for me and I don't even know what I've done to deserve it. When Sophia—a girl everyone was convinced had a massive crush on me—died, I pretty much gave up on the notion of finding a lover in this hellish world. When Mom died, I didn't care to seek out the void of affection her death left. I was gone for a long time. But Tanner came into my life and has filled both of those holes without me even having to ask him for it. No one can ever replace the people I've lost, but somehow, with Tanner, I've been able to cope. The companionship I lost when Sophia died has been restored. The affection—though a different kind—that died with my mother, is being given to me tenfold by Tanner.
I'm beginning to wonder how I even lived in this world without his presence. Without his touch. His smell. His love.
And when he's done with me, I return the favor, washing him all over; head to toes.
I take extra time washing over the scar on his abdomen. The wound, opposite mine, which marked the location where he was shot in Terminus. Seeing the tiny abrasion on his skin brings back the powerful emotions I experienced when I thought that this wound would take him from me. That's a loss I don't think I can ever come back from. Now—only now—do I understand what Dad must've gone through when Mom died. I'd been so angry with him for going completely nuts and disappearing for days on end.
Now I know why.
Because if I had lost Tanner in Terminus, I'd have gone mad too.
Tanner catches me lingering too long on his scar and slowly slips his damp hand over the one I'm holding tight to the wound on his stomach. His touch draws me out of my thoughts and my gaze goes up to meet his. His eyes are pools of love and adoration. I never get tired of admiring the way he looks at me. Like everytime he sees me, he's seeing me for the first time. To be honest, I'd never in my wildest dreams imagined that anyone would look on me with that much adoration. I'd seen something similar with my mother, but her's was more of a parental type of look. Tanner's, on the other hand, is full of passion and love for me. Just seeing him stare at me like that is filling me with a warmth hotter than the water pouring over our skin.
And then he moves.
Suddenly, he's kneeling on one knee, bringing him to eye level with me. I watch him, mesmerized by those eyes I've become trapped in. He leans in, slowly, lightly brushing his lips against mine. They're wet. Moist. Their taste is simply intoxicating and I can't help myself for grabbing the back of his head, preventing him from pulling back, and then pushing his lips back into mine. Where they belong. My tongue skates tenderly along the outside of his lips before he grants me entrance. Then they're together; twisting and coiling around each other. Tanner's hands find my hair again, gripping it just tightly enough to hold me against him, yet not hard enough to hurt. There's heat between us. Not just the heat of the water dancing across our skin, but the heat that often radiates off of us when we kiss like this. Its hard to describe, but with his lips against mine, hands grasping at my hair, I can feel warmth radiating off of him and enveloping me.
His free hand slides down the side of my face, resting gently against my cheek.
I love it when he does that. When he holds my cheek like that.
I'm not sure why.
Whether its just the intimacy such a touch brings, or just the feeling of goosebumps breaking out across my skin when he does it, that I like the most. Either way, it causes my dick to twitch between my legs.
He notices this and breaks our lip lock.
"Sorry," I groan, no doubt blushing madly in embarrassment.
He smiles.
His smile then turns into a chuckle, followed by a roar of laughter from deep within him.
"I said sorry," I pout. "Sheesh."
He wipes a tear of laughter out of his eye.
"You crack me up, Carl." he says, placing his hand suggestively on my chest. "Modesty isn't exactly something you have to worry about around me."
That only embarrasses me more.
He's seen me with a hard on more times than I can count these past two months, and yet, this time the sheer awkwardness of it is causing me to blush as though he is seeing me like this for the first time. The look of embarrassment must've intensified on my face because he chuckles again.
"Relax, would ya?" he soothes me.
To emphasize this, he leans in and presses his lips directly into the nape of my neck. He knows that kissing me there will prompt a reaction. Always does, without fail. And there is a reaction. It starts as a warm, tingling sensation in my stomach and quickly spreads to my chest, into my face, and even down to my toes. My hands come up around his neck and hold him in the crook of mine. Desire floods me in that instant and causes me to gasp the first thing that pops into my head.
"Tanner..." I groan.
"Hmm?" he hums into my neck, tickling me slightly.
"I want you to." I blurt out.
He lifts his head up to look me in the eye. He knows what I'm asking for. Usually, he'd ask me if I was sure, or if I wanted to try something else—because that's how considerate of my feelings he is—but this time, he just seems to know. He's become so in tune with me over the past few months, that the desire reflecting in my eyes is enough of a consent for him. I wonder if he knows how much consent I'm giving him, though. Tanner is always bowing to what I want. He's a strong person on his own, but I can ask him virtually anything and he'll do it. Not that I'd ever take advantage of that, mind you. Because of this, he's always let me take charge of our love making.
Not today though.
I want him.
Need him.
Him and only him.
For a moment, I remember all of the terrible things Garret and his gang said and did to me. It had hurt at the time. Indeed, it had hurt all the way up until a few minutes ago. But now I realize something; just how much they're missing out. They were so quick to judge Tanner and I for who we are, they completely missed how happy we make each other. How being around each other seems to complete us. Only people who didn't understand that feeling, of being loved so completely by another, could make such hard judgments.
Tanner brings me out of my thoughts again by sweeping my wet hair out of my eyes.
"Alright," he whispers to me, softly nuzzling my nose. "But not here. Let's go to our bed."
I'm all too quick to agree.
We shut off the water and dry quickly.
Tanner sticks his head around the corner, once we're in the hallway, to be sure that the house is still vacant and we're still alone. Fortunately for us, it is. We make a beeline for our bedroom, Tanner slamming the door shut behind us, and then he surprises me by scooping me up in his arms. It is—I assure you—the first time he's ever picked me up like this. My arms are draped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, and he's holding me firmly under my butt to hold me up. That is hot. I haven't been held like this by anyone since I was a baby. And I've never been held in this manner. Not by anyone. Its only then that I realize just how strong Tanner is. Though he's a physically fit young man, he doesn't come across as anyone who is too strong. And yet he's holding up all hundred and five pounds of me effortlessly, like its nothing. He hold me there for a moment, leaning his head lightly against mine. For a second, it feels as though Tanner is rocking me back and forth in his arms.
Romantic.
It never ceases to amaze me how romantic he can be.
A light kiss on my lips, then he leans me back and deposits me, ever so carefully, on the bedclothes. The fabric feels nice against my bare skin. Nicer still is him coming down on top of me, hands on either side of my shoulders. Tanner dips down, not awaiting any verbal suggestions, and kisses me again. This time, on the bruise marring my cheek. Then the side of my nose, where Garret had left quite the shiner. He dips down further and presses his lips into the larger bruise on my stomach, where I'd been punched.
"I won't let anyone hurt you like this again." he breathes against the skin of my abdomen.
He seems to be whispering that as much to himself as he is to me.
He trails lower.
"No one." he repeats.
Lower.
"No one..."
Then he takes me inside his mouth. My back arches. A gasp of pure ecstasy escapes my lips. We haven't done anything like this since our time in the truck together, before Alexandria. Furthermore, he hasn't sucked me off in well over a month. Its a sensation I'd almost forgotten the feeling of. My hands involuntarily spring to the back of his head, taking fistfuls of his hair as he sets to work teasing me with his tongue. Even after all this time, he still hasn't lost his touch. Within mere moments, he works me into a frenzy, to where I'm nearly thrashing around on the bed. Unexpectedly, I feel his finger prod my entrance, and I lose it. The sensations of it all are just too much.
"Tanner, I'm—!"
He cuts me off by pushing me as deep into his mouth as he can go—gagging briefly as he does—and then he hums. And I'm coming. Coming hard. Coming violently. So much so, my entire backside lifts off the bed and I release a guttural cry the likes of which I never thought possible to create. Tanner is a trooper. He takes every last bit of my offering, not even spilling so much as a drop. I immediately feel guilty. I wanted to last longer. To ride this out with him as long as possible.
"I'm sorry, Tanner." I gasp. "I wanted to—"
"Shhh." he places his finger to his lips. "It'll be alright. Just relax. You'll enjoy this next part too."
I can't help but smile at him.
He's going to give me what I want, but first he's going to make sure I'm ready for it.
Just like him. So considerate.
His finer, which has been only lightly brushing my entrance up until this point, pushes in with more force; sliding inside of me. The feeling is still a foreign one. Tanner has only been inside of me once in our time together and that was nearly two months ago. But he's in no rush. He takes his time with the first finger, loosening me until he feels ready to add the second. With the second inside, he actively seeks the lump of nerves that make up my pleasure spot. When his fingers graze it, my dick shoots up again, and I immediately gasp again.
God, its so good.
Tanner works at me for a few more moments and then withdraws his fingers.
I know what's coming next.
He hovers over me and positions himself properly. I feel his hardness press up against me and feel a tremendous sense of anticipation grow within my chest. One of his hands comes up and cups my cheek lovingly, like I love so much, and he briefly strokes it before giving me one of those brilliant smiles of his again.
"Ready?" he asks with a glimmer in his eye.
I nod furiously, "Please." I beg him.
Tanner takes his hand off my cheek and uses it to prop himself up on the bed. With one push, with the aid of his other hand, he easily slips inside of me and I feel him fill me up for the second time. While he allows me to adjust to his length, both of his hands wrap around me and he buries his head in the nape of my neck. For the first time in a long time, all of me is touching all of him. We're completely unified. Its an indescribable sensation. I quickly wrap my legs around his waist, holding him tightly to me. He takes that as indication to start moving, and when he does, the feeling is electrifying. I wince at little at first, the movement causing my entrance to sting slightly, but by the time Tanner finds his rhythm, its feeling heavenly again. Tanner's lips meet mine again and, though sloppy from our movement, the kiss that ensues only makes our love-making more passionate.
More meaningful.
Tanner is a good lover. Throughout the session, he knows what movements I like, which way to drive me, which buttons to press by kissing me or touching me a certain way, and it drives me to a sexual nirvana that consumes me, causing my body to launch into its second orgasm of the day; this one more powerful than the last. He's not far behind me. As soon as he feels the warmth of my seed on his stomach, he begins to aggressively pursue his own orgasm. When it rocks him, it rocks him hard, causing him to hold onto me tightly as his whole body tremors violently against me. He gasp loudly for air twice before his body tremors end. At that point, his entire body goes limp and he simply clings to me.
"I love you... Carl..." he mumbles in exhaustion.
He doesn't even bother slipping out of me yet.
I smirk.
"Love you too, Tanner." I reply.
And we both fall asleep.
####
((Tanner's P.o.V.))
I wake up in Carl's arms, blankets from our bed tightly wrapped around us.
Its a nice sight to wake up to.
He dozes peacefully in my arms. Outside our window, I can see the sun has begun to set. Rick and Michonne will be home anytime now, meaning we both have to get up soon. For the moment, though, I decide to let him sleep. I just don't have the heart to break such a peaceful-looking slumber. I cradle him silently in my arms, my thoughts drifting towards the ring still hanging around his neck, and the matching one hanging off of my own.
I know its time.
After all that's happened, all that we've been through, there's no need to keep it from Rick and the others any longer. Of course, I'll seek Carl's counsel and consent before we do it, but...
Its time to tell Rick that I intend to marry his son.
The ring he discovered earlier this week should've been a tip off to him, so its not like he wouldn't be expecting it at some point. Carl had been the man who sucked up his fear and told Rick about our relationship all those months ago.
Now it is my turn to step up for Carl.
A/N: Whew! Long chapter! Well, longer than they've been anyways xD I promised a final smut chapter and I could think of no better time to include it than here. Another chapter full of romance and plot-point resolving. I really enjoyed getting to write another flashback for Tanner. That one was essential to really show how far he's come as a character. Before the apocalypse, he was just some kid who got picked on and pushed aside for so long, and now look at 'em? *sniff* Makes me so proud. xD Jokes aside though, I love showing how much my characters have grown, and I think this chapter accomplished that for both our protagonists. I hope you all enjoyed it! :D
Review time!
TwilightEclps: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm sad there are three chapters left too. I've really come to love this story. But, all good stories have an ending point somewhere, so I'll keep trucking on until the end! As to your question, I will undoubtably do another Walking Dead fanfic from the beginning of the outbreak. I've already got one in the planning stages (mentioned the title a few chapters back, I think) so as soon as I flesh it out enough, you can look forward to that one! :) Thank you for your review!
HeadedCoffee: Thank you! I'm glad it was intense. I went all out to make sure that chapter and this one were very emotionally charged. It was important to me to show the dark side of human nature. People can do some sick things, but that's the cool thing about TWD. You can show the clear contrast between the people who are ultimately good, despite the bad things they've had to do (Rick's group), and the people who have let darkness consume them (Garret's group, in this case). Thank you for your comment and review! :)
NOxONE: When you put it that way, its definitely romantic. Tanner definitely loves Carl and it really shines through in that chapter, even though he hates himself for going off like that, to an extent. I'm glad that side of Tanner really shone through to you. Tells me I'm doing my job as an author right :3 Thanks for your comment!
Thank you guys so much for your reviews and PMs. You'll never know how much they mean!
Oh, and I almost forgot! Two more chapters until the finale! I hope you will all stick with me through this until the end!
Until the next chapter!
Later!