It's...quiet. So eerily quiet that...you almost don't realize the silence lays heavy in the air until you let out a shaky breath and hear it loud in your own ears. Like a blanket of snow, or the pressure of every next move, it's oppressive and glaring.
But...it's quiet. The first sign of peace in so long. Back to the concrete wall of the house's unfinished basement, surrounded by cardboard boxes filled with stuff the original family had obviously stored away for most of the year, you turn your head and see Law sitting beside you, staring off into space.
Lips parted just enough to breathe in and out in shallow patterns, you hear every exhale. There's a haunting distance in his eyes. You haven't seen him this dejected since...hell, you've never seen him this low. He's a shell of his former self. Were you even you anymore? You couldn't be certain.
It's as if he could still hear the pleas for help, the calls of both of your names, the screaming and...you don't want to think of it any further. Your friends' deaths were still a fresh and bleeding wound. A hole had been ripped from your chests and you hadn't had a single chance to dwell on it until now.
There was no one left. Your group of four, cut in half from a single supply run. A single mistake had cost you Penguin and Shachi. Thinking their names hurt. Your eyes stung and burned.
Perhaps feeling your stare, Law turns to meet your gaze. He looked worse for wear, even more so than usual. After your desperate escape from the horde, neither of you looked presentable, dirty, bloodied, and bone-weary. You feel disgusting. You smell disgusting. You've forgotten the sensation of a shower by now, so long surviving in a world without.
There's nothing at all behind his eyes, mind empty. But he looks at you still, irises flicking back and further between your own, searching. Thinking.
You want to say something. But nothing comes out. You can't muster the words or the courage to speak, to break the silence. As if uttering a single sound would somehow break this peace and bring more of the undead to your temporary shelter.
Of course it was temporary. There was no safety anymore. Anywhere, everywhere. There was no escape. Only momentary respite against the terrors that had risen from their graves.
You nearly jump when you feel a hand against your cheek. Law tenderly cradles your face, leaning forward slowly until your forehead is pressed to his. You gaze up at the broken man, watching his eyes close and his expression grow pained. He's lost so much. You both have. He's lost. He's drowning in guilt and grief. He's so many things, and you want so badly to help him.
Without warning, you feel the tears well up and slide down your cheeks. It wasn't fair, any of it. You stutter out a choked sob, and Law's other hand raises to hold your other cheek. You cry, you both cry, letting the floodgates go, whimpering your pain into the dusty and cluttered basement without restraint.
You want to scream. You want to break something. But you can't. You can't, and it's agony. One loud noise and the hordes descend, finding your shelter and tearing you limb from limb. It's a horror to think about and so you don't. You don't think at all.
It's cold, but not from temperature. You're numb, barely breathing. Are you even alive? You're heart beats, but do you live? No, no this can't be living. In a world like this, no one lives anymore...
You don't know who leans forward first, but your lips connect in a desperate play to feel...something. Anything. You don't care what. It's quick, it's hard. It's barely a kiss. But the second one, Law presses himself closer, fingers sliding to your jaw to angle you how he wants, deepening the way your lips mold together.
It hurts so deeply, the pain in your chest, the hopelessness of everything except each other. That's all you have left. All you have in this desolate world of death and the dying. And as if this were your last moment to actually truly live, you don't hesitate.
Exploring, shaking fingers run from his shoulders to the hem of his shirt. Law hastily throws off his jacket and works to remove the shirt under it at your insistence. Lips still locked, you shimmy forward on your knees, needing closeness. Needing the feeling of his skin on yours.
You hear him groan--a sad, starved noise--as your fingers trail down his chest. You feel more bones than is healthy under his ashen skin. With a tug, he's pulling at your own shirt, and you separate to drag it over your head and into the growing pile of clothing beside you.
There's no waiting. How much time do you really have? Any moment the door could be broken down, you could be found and killed in a single moment. There was no time to waste on foreplay, on preparation, on anything really. You needed each other in the most primal way possible. One last act of humanity before you ceased to be human.
Pants and ratty socks join your shirts on the floor, and with as much gentleness as his eager, trembling hands can afford, Law lowers you gently onto the fabrics as a makeshift blanket. It helps stave off the cold from the concrete floor. It's the only comfort he can provide you in the forgotten basement of this decaying house. It feels as if he's given all he has.
Your thin, starving bodies come together, him hovering over you in an embrace. His lips find yours, unwilling to be apart again. You feel his hardening length rub at your entrance. It's warm, solid. Everything you need in that moment.
Your fingers bury themselves in his greasy, unwashed hair, tear stains streaking down your cheeks as you kiss him for everything you have. If there was never another time to give yourself over to anyone, to demonstrate in whatever way you can who and what you are, this was the time. You kiss him as if he's the last man alive. He very well could be.
Your dehydration and general malnutrition makes things difficult as he tries to enter you. It takes a few gentle pushes, each soft thrust affording him another inch or two of depth in your cunt. It's awkward, it's uncomfortable at first. But after the 3rd or 4th time, your body was gotten the message to use what water it has left in it to lubricate your walls and Law manages to slide himself to the hilt inside of you.
He stops, clutching you close and just feeling you. You're connected in a way you've never been and in a way you suspect you'll never be again. If this were to be the only time, you savor every moment. You can feel him throb, the warmth of his body so deep in yours rousing a spark of life in your loins you thought completely extinguished for so long.
And when he moves, the tears begin anew. You're full, and feeling and glowing. You're alive, for the first time since it all went wrong. You cling to his body, to his bony shoulders and hips with as much strength as you can muster, pleasure escaping your throat in quiet gasps and small moans. Even now, you must keep quiet. Even now, you must hold back.
He's muttering, whatever the words are you can't quite understand, but he's muttering and whispering beside your ear. Around his own groans and grunt of exertion--you imagine in his exhausted state, this is taking a lot out of him-- he says your name. In a question, in a prayer, you don't know which. But you know it's beautiful.
Warmth and fullness builds and builds within you, a blossoming flower you welcome with all you have. You breathe Law's name, begging for him to let it wash over you in a cascade of life. It's so close. The way he thrusts and kisses your skin wherever he can reach it sends you on a path straight to the edge.
And then his hips stutter, and you nearly cry for a different reason. He can't take anymore of the feeling of you around him, he's cum early. He's huffing heavy breaths beside you. Shivering, he lowers his forehead to the floor, spent.
You let out a sob, body so worked up and stirring with life, but no outlet to get it out. But Law's hand fumbles down to where the two of you remain joined, determined to bring you over that edge with him. Nimble fingers roll and rub and pleasure in just the right way to have you squeezing his arms with renewed hope. Yes, the build begins again. The coil tightens, spasms...
You're struck with a silent cry of ecstasy as you reach orgasm, the waves of warmth and joy crashing through you. The air feels light, your lungs sucking in heavy breaths of any it can get.
For as cold as the basement is, you're incredibly hot, teeming with life and feeling. You can feel. Something other than grief and pain and being numb. You can feel. And it is glorious.
You don't want to think. When you came down from your high, when the pleasure faded and the heat leech from your bodies back into the cracked, gray concrete floor of this abandoned house in a town you didn't know...you'd go back to facing the horror of the reality you both lived every single day. A reality without Shachi or Penguin, and everyone else you'd come to know and love.
But for now, you could forget it all, head buried in Law's neck as you inhaled and exhaled together, wrapped in the comfort and warmth of each other's arms.
Just a little longer...that was all you asked for.
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