Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside. (If I did, the whole world would certainly know about it.)
Warnings: Please see original chapter for all warnings and general information. *Rated for: adult language and adult situations.
Gnarled
Chapter Three
He didn't know how much time had passed before he caught himself nodding off. Chin tipping down into his chest once, and then twice, as soothing thumbs skated across the surface of his sweat slicked skin. Rubbing delicately across the sensitive nerves and abused muscles without pause. Either oblivious or uncaring of the way he jolted forward in barely muted alarm.
He didn't know what had roused him. Whether it was survival, instinct, adrenaline, or a fluke chance; but he supposed that in the end it really didn't matter. The damage had already been done. He'd nearly fallen asleep with the kid's hands on him. Unconscious and vulnerable in an unfamiliar house in the middle of bum fuck suburbia. Smack dab in the center of a walker infested town nearly eight miles from where they'd made camp.
Christ! What the fuck was the matter with him!
He didn't even bother holding back the angry, self disgusted noise that issued from his throat. The sound echoing out embarrassingly loud in the forced quiet as Glenn's hands dipped low. Skirting around the hollowed jut of his right hip before streaking up to work on the joint that marked where his shoulder met his arm. Finding a jumbled knot of muscle and diving right in.
Holding onto his composure by the skin of his teeth, he flinched. Eyes slitting in pain, anger, and discomfort as he fought against the natural urge to pull away and nurse his wounds in private. Unwilling to expose anymore of himself then he already had to the kid's judging eyes.
But if anything, Glenn only doubled his efforts. Pulse thudding through his chest until it was reverberating up his spine, insistent and completely insatiable as the kid worked him over. It was a something visceral, a sensation that flowed through the kid's fingers and into his skin. - A rhythmic tangle of tentative touches and the sharp press of nails that molded into his skin until all he could feel was the pleasure of it. Until he was nearly drowning amidst the tenuous simmer, as a thousand and one nerve endings crackled to life underneath his beat up skin. Spreading through him until the sensation was coursing up his spine and unfurling behind his closed lids, exploding into his consciousness like firecrackers for the soul.
And all the while Glenn just hummed, letting go of a slow, syrupy sound that rumbled up from the base of his throat in a confounding mess of base sounds and comforting pitches. It was a strange sound that existed somewhere in between a melody and purr. And weirdly enough, it put him at ease without even tryin'. Soothing him in a way he neither recognized nor rightly understood.
He shrugged his shoulders. Taking a quick pull from the bottle of vodka as the potent liquor hit him like a sucker punch to the jewels. Refusing to let himself relax on pure principal as he took another careless sip. Because it wasn't comforting. It was either that, or he wasn't letting it. He wasn't sure exactly sure which he was going with anymore. - Far too caught up in the way the kid could make him throb inside his own skin to think straight.
"..So what, your momma taught you how to do this then, kid?" he finally grunted. Breaking the silence like a dull knife slicing through a freshly exposed hamstring; suddenly, and with remarkably little finesse.
"Uhuh…" Glenn replied distractedly, cussing out a stream of foreign gibberish as talented fingers dug determinedly into a particularly stubborn knot of muscle.
"'Aint that kinda strange?" he managed, desperate for some sort of distraction as the kid began laying into him in earnest. Swallowing hard as the man's fingers started ghosting up and down his sides. Working him over until he was twitching in place, muscles smouldering at the abuse as the kid gave him no quarter.
"You mean stranger than the world ending because of a virus that turns people into undead cannibals?" Glenn shot back lightly, voice lilting with amusement as the man focused his attentions on delicately massaging the muscles that laid just south of his wound.
The kid had a point there, he'd give him that..
"This would work a whole lot better if we had some oil." Glenn remarked a few moments later, the comment offhand enough to startle him back to awareness as the younger man plucked somewhat mournfully at one of the limp straps of his dull grey wife beater. Heat prickling down the length of his chest and beyond as the full connotations of the man's statement sent his brain reeling.
Oh god…
Did the kid even think about some of the shit that came flying out of his god damned mouth? Or was he just bound and determined to give him a fucking heart attack? ...Shit.
He swallowed roughly, mind screeching for a strategic retreat as he shifted in growing discomfort. Cock pressing painfully against the crease of his filthy jeans as his imagination quickly began to fill in the gaps. Brain traitorously supplying every dirty thought, half-hearted wish, and partially remembered pull out from one of Merle's old skin magazines in vivid, living color until it was all he could see swimming around in his minds eye.
But the moment he knew he was really done for was when Glenn cursed in Korean, grunting and putting his back into it as he wriggled enticingly into the small of his back. The catch of his jeans raking across his naked skin as the kid muttered under his breath. Breaths growing labored and hitched with exertion as they skimmed tantalizingly across his sweat slicked scalp, the younger man apparently doing his best to break him as he hit a particularly stubborn patch of muscle.
Because all else considered, he couldn't help but think that he was pretty sure this reminded him of a porno he'd seen once…
Well, fuck…
A/N: Okay, I lied; there will be one more chapter AFTER this one. Sorry about the shortness, the story took an unexpected twist on me. Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love!
"In a perverse way, I was glad for the stitches, glad it would show, that there would be scars. What was the point in just being hurt on the inside? It should bloody well show." ― Janet Fitch, (White Oleander)