Chapter Twenty Eight

They decided to keep me for observation, so I missed all the fun of moving the supply stockpiles onto the roof of the various trailers, securing them, and preparing the trailers themselves to move. Hanson joined me two hours later as they locked me inside and we spent the trip lounging on a medical bed, watching the world news on my tablet.

Things weren't looking good. Radical groups had begun forming in the Quarantine states in response to the announcement of a volunteer draft. There were some who wanted to go full-auto without the military's oversight and others were protesting the infringement upon their human rights.

"Isn't the draft voluntary?" Hanson asked in confusion.

"Yep," I replied. "I don't think they care. They're just looking for a reason to get attention. If this hadn't come along, they'd probably have protested in favor of human rights for zombies themselves. You know, because cannibalistic brain-dead humans can't speak for themselves."

Hanson snickered at my shitty joke. I glanced over at him and asked curiously, "What's your first name? I just realized we've kept calling each other by our last names all this time."

He smiled warmly at me and laid his head on my shoulder and cuddled against my side. "That's okay. I actually prefer it. My dad wanted to name me something respectable-sounding, so he named me Arthur Oliver Hanson. Arthur makes me feel like a geek, Oliver makes me feel like a nerd, and Arthur Oliver makes me feel like a serial killer. What about you?"

"Daniel Jensen Bryant," I said. "My dad calls me Danny, but I've always hated it and I don't think anyone likes their middle name. I'm okay if you keep calling me Bryant." I didn't mention being called by my last name made me feel more like an adult, since I actually was an adult now. Even if my eighteenth birthday hadn't passed, I was fairly certain dying equaled a certificate of completion for childhood.

"I don't know," Hanson replied teasingly as he gently traced the veins on my face with his finger. "I kind of like Grumpy. It fits you. You have this hard shell exterior, but I can tell you care about people. Maybe not their opinion of you, but—"

"Most people aren't worth caring about," I interrupted before he got the wrong idea about me. "Movies and stories always have the hero say shit like, 'I just did something anyone would do.' But it's not true. People prefer to look the other way when they see things they don't like. And the people who try to help others get called busybodies for sticking their nose in other people's business."

Hanson sat up on his elbow to look at me with his head tilted like he was trying to figure something out. "Is that why you never tried to make friends? You didn't want to be a busybody?"

I shook my head. "You're the only one who ever looked at me like they were seeing another person instead of a thug. I think a lot of guys thought I was sent to boot camp as an alternative to juvie. They kept eyeing me up like they were trying to decide if they could win in a fight."

He suddenly burst out laughing. "Is that what you think?" he asked merrily. "Oh my god, Bryant. If only you knew. You were everyone's idol! No one else could piss off the instructors like you and walk away like you didn't give a damn. You're like a confident bad boy who knows just how far he can push the rules without landing himself in hot water."

I snorted. "If I knew how to keep myself out of hot water, I wouldn't have landed in military school in the first place."

"That doesn't matter. Everyone wished they could be like you. I think most of the guys stayed calm when zombies showed up because they didn't want to look bad in front of you. You're a natural leader and there's just something about you that makes people want to follow you."

I scoffed. "You're out of your mind."

He grinned at me. "I'm not. Just wait and see. I'm willing to bet you're leading your own squad in less than a year."

"You're assuming we'll last that long," I replied, reaching out to run my fingers through his hair. His had grown out of his school regulation haircut faster than mine and the ends had begun to curl. It suited him.

"We will," he promised. He leaned down to kiss me and I became highly aware we were locked in the trailer together for another hour at the minimum. We hadn't been on the road long and I didn't think they were going to rush to open the doors until after they'd scouted the perimeter of the new camp. It meant we had plenty of time if we wanted to use the bed to its full potential.

He apparently had the same idea. The moment I kissed him back, all bets were off. My shirt went flying and his followed. We spared only a minute to figure out where the doctors kept their stash of condoms and lube, then Hanson got to work teaching me how two men could make love.

Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined a tight ass could feel so good. It felt incredible and I loved it, yet my fucked up body kept me from showing my exhilaration. My heart, an organ that should have been pounding away as I eased into him for the first time, kept its usual imperceptible pace.

Hanson seemed to like how I remained outwardly stoic. Every time our eyes met and he noticed I wasn't panting or stressing, it drove him slightly more wild afterward. I didn't want him to think I wasn't enjoying myself, so I didn't hesitate to explore his body to figure out what else I could do to excite him. He was slower to reciprocate, seemingly satisfied with running his fingers through the thin hairs on my chest and digging his fingers into my shoulders as he rode me.

He had two orgasms before we both realized I wasn't going to be able to follow him. There was no build up and climax like I normally experienced when I jerked off. I wasn't getting soft, either.

After twenty minutes of trying, he collapsed on top of me, having cum a third time and completely worn himself out in the process. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him to my chest, uncaring of his spent seed between us.

He wiggled slightly, my hard cock still lodged inside him.

"Does that feel good?" I asked. He moaned something I couldn't make out and wiggled again. I gently thrust into him since that seemed to be what he wanted and he let out a soft gasp of pleasure.

"How are you still hard?" he asked in a slurred voice.

"Dunno," I said. "Maybe you're just that good."

"Wanna make you cum," he whined.

I chuckled and thrust into him again, making him shiver in my arms. "I feel like I could go all night like this, so tell me if it gets to be too much."

Hanson let me keep going for a few more minutes, then he gently lifted off and rolled to sit next to me on the bed. He stared at my cock like it was a puzzle needing to be solved. I smirked and spread my legs, giving him a silent invitation to try.

He started by pulling the condom off and replacing it with a fresh one. Then he attempted to swallow my length like a porn star. I put my hands behind my head to keep from pushing him to take more than he wanted. The last thing I wanted was for him to stop.

Every touch, every stroke, every press of flesh against my dick sent pleasure coursing up my spine. I might not have been able to get off, but that didn't mean I was frustrated or disappointed. No build-up meant I wasn't feeling blue balls, either. All I felt was... great.

That changed when Hanson reached down and did something. I didn't know what. All I knew was the pleasure was replaced with lightening and I went from feeling good to feeling euphoric. I let out a noise I didn't know I'd been capable of making as my back arched off the bed. Hanson pulled away like he'd been burned and I instantly collapsed back down, seeing stars.

"What the hell was that?" he asked.

"You tell me," I slurred, sounding much like he had after cumming. "Oh, God, that was... Fuck. What was that?"

"All I did was fondle your sac."

"Do it again. Felt good."

He didn't need much encouragement. He reached between my legs and gently stroked his thumb over my balls. The lightening wasn't as intense this time, but I still felt it and moaned to let him know to keep going.

"I think we know what flips your switch," he said with a pleased, husky chuckle. "Next time, you should fuck me doggy style. I bet it'll feel incredible for you to let these big boys swing free."

"Keep talking and we'll find out," I warned. "Think I'm gonna—" I writhed on the bed as I finally felt the normal build-up heralding an impending orgasm.

It hit fast and swept through me even faster. As I shot into the condom, my vision completely blacked out for a second. The next thing I knew, Hanson was crawling up to cuddle against my torso and I was completely cum-drunk. I pressed my face into his hair, kissing the crown of his head, as I chortled and laughed.

I could hear the amusement in Hanson's voice as he asked, "What's so funny?"

"You. Me. Everything."

"That's specific," he said dryly.

I laughed again. "Ignore me. You turned my brain to mush."

"Well, mush-for-brains, we should probably get cleaned up. It feels like we've stopped moving and I don't want to get caught with my pants down."

I groaned, wanting to bathe in the afterglow for a little longer, but I knew he was right. When he rolled out of the bed, I rolled out after him and went to the sink to steal some wet-wipes from the box sitting next to it. I handed a few to Hanson, then quickly used a few to cleaned myself. We hid the evidence in the trashcan. A few spritz of sanitizing spray erased the smell and we found replacement bedding in the cabinet, allowing us to throw the soiled sheets into the hazmat hamper.