Love Beyond Decay

I am not sure if I want to make a series of this or not. I've written more, but I am genuinely not sure how well received this might or might not be if it gets read.

TWs: Non-Con, CNC, painal

I trudged through the desolate streets, my boots kicking up dust along the asphalt with each step. The ghosts of empty buildings and nose-to-nose abandoned vehicles stood as a stark reminder of the bustling world that once was. The only supplies left in my pack were a beat-up old pistol and a handful of bullets. My water canteen was already dry, and I'd eaten the last of my rabbit jerky earlier in the day.

As I scavenged for supplies in an abandoned food truck, the faint noise of shuffling footsteps broke the eerie silence behind me. I spun around to confront the source and came face to face with a zombie, as I expected. This zombie was different. His skin, though pallid and tinged with decay, held a strange hint of vitality, as if he had just recently succumbed to the virus. Judging by how filthy and tattered his gym clothes were and the aged look of his smartwatch, he'd been wandering around for a while, though. He had several healed scars dotting his body, including multiple bite marks on his arm and shoulder.

"Well, aren't you a beefy fella," I remarked, instinctively reaching into my bag to grab the pistol.

"Wait," the zombie growled, the sound almost human, yet distorted and animalistic.

I froze mid weapon draw. The zombie took a deliberate step closer, his gaze locked onto mine with an unsettling intensity. His eyes were focused with a glimmer of intelligence amidst the somewhat vacant stare typical of the undead.

"Did you just speak?" My jaw dropped and my voice was tinged with disbelief and a hint of curiosity.

The zombie's growl intensified, and he took another step forward, his gaze never leaving mine. Suddenly, he lunged at me with surprising speed. I fired my pistol at the zombie's skull, but I stumbled backward and missed, causing the bullet to impact his chest with a wet thud. He pushed me to the ground. One of his hands swiftly pinned my arms above my head. He smelled like decay and moth balls.

Instead of biting, he just stared at me, "Pretty boy," he growled.

It was easy to see how handsome he must've been in life. His dull pale grey eyes looked to have remnants of vibrant blue, and his filthy hair was sandy blonde.

I noticed the smartwatch from before was one of the fancier ones with small solar panels on the side. The sun faded screen strangely read the zombie's vitals as active. He leaned into me and took a deep breath of my scent. Low rumbling noises almost like purs or sighs of approval escaped his throat.

"Wow, there, it's okay. No need to get violent." I said softly, not really sure what I was doing.

My heart pounded in my chest with terror as I wiggled one of my hands from his grasp and reached out to tap the watch's face. The back of my knuckles brushed his arm for a moment. His skin was oddly warm to the touch, at least 80°F, contradicting the coldness of the other undead I'd encountered. It took another few taps for the watch to register my touch. Each tap felt like a gamble for my life, but I managed to get the holographic display to appear. His health statistics displayed just visible enough for me to make out the numbers. They flickered low, but not zombie low. It was as if his body had decided to combat the virus by going into some sort of physical stasis.

I feel a surge of adrenaline as I try to process this information. This undead creature was different. I'm far too small in the grand scheme to consider the implications this could have for the fate of humanity.

I attempted to wiggle my other arm from his grasp, but the zombie snarled lightly, his lips parting to reveal a still mostly intact set of teeth, "Pretty boy," he growled low in his throat.

It was eerie hearing the undead speak. Despite showing signs of intelligence, he was still unnaturally strong with a firm grip typical among the undead, which meant he was still a threat.

I attempted to reason with him, "Hey, I'm sure we can work something out, big guy?"

The zombie stared at me. He seemed to consider my offer. His facial expressions shifted subtly. He released his grip and sat back a bit with his eyes still locked on me. It took everything in me not to attempt to get up and run as fast and as far as I could, but I knew I was wearing out quickly. This zombie would hunt me down, especially if he was even remotely intelligent.

"Do you know your name?" I asked softly while I still avoided eye contact.

His gaze remained unwavering and unreadable for an unnerving amount of time. I thought for a moment that maybe he didn't understand the question. His lips parted slowly to allow his soft growl to escape his chest. I got goosebumps and the extreme urge to get away, but I stayed put. Whether I stayed out of fear or curiosity, I wasn't sure.

The zombie's growls died down. He took a deep breath, as if to gather his thoughts, "Z-Z-Z-..."

"I can call you Z if you can't say it."

Z smiled, "Z," he repeated, his voice hoarse and rough.

Z reached out and grabbed my face in his large hand, "Pretty boy," He growled again.

I flinched at the sudden contact, but didn't pull away. Z's expression looked desperate for something.

I hesitated before saying, "My name is Logan."

The zombie's eyes widened slightly at the sound of my name, and for a moment, he seemed almost human. His grip on my face loosened slightly.

"Logan," he repeated, testing out my name on his tongue.

"Z want pretty boy, Logan."

Z's voice was rough and low, his tone almost pleading. I could see his muscles tensing as he crouched in front of me.

"Want pretty boy, Logan," he repeated his voice barely above a whisper. "For... keep?" He paused, "T-t..." He growled, "Touch pretty boy."

The idea of being touched by a zombie made me viscerally uncomfortable. I didn't look at him, didn't speak. I was completely caught off guard.

Z took my shirt into his fist and pulled me close to him, "Logan pretty."

I tried to pull away, but the zombie's grip was too strong. His eyes were wild and hungry.

"Z," I said softly, "that's not a good idea."

Z let go of my shirt. I took deep breaths, thankful to still be able to breathe. My fight or flight kicked in, but I didn't want that chase. I didn't want his wrath.

Z watched me steadily, "Fuck." He finally managed to grunt.

Z's eyes narrowed. He shifted towards me, his movements were deliberate and slow. It was as if he was trying to control some primal urge. His fingers brushed against my skin, starting at my wrist and slowly moving up my arm. His touch was cold and clammy, but it was the first touch aside from my own that I'd felt in a very long time. Z's eyes darted over my body. His gaze was intense and predatory. Z's fingers traced the lines of my muscles beneath my shirt.

"Pretty boy," He murmured, his rough voice filled with awe.

I shivered under his touch. A small tent growing involuntarily in my jeans as Z's fingers grazed just above my waistband. I blushed, feeling scared, aroused, and somewhat embarrassed.

His eyes flickered to my crotch, then his fingers followed. He traced the outline of my mostly flaccid member. He growled softly, his own length growing and twitching in his shorts.

"Z, what're you-"

Z gave a rough tug at my pants to pull them down. I tried to stop him, but he ripped the pants from my body, leaving me completely exposed from the waste down. He reached out to roughly take me into his hand.

"Z, stop!" I cried out as I tried to pull away from him.

My heart pounded in my chest and I broke out into a cold sweat. This couldn't be happening. Z's hand stroked over my shaft, exploring the contours of my cock. He brushed the head with his thumb, eliciting a groan. Z's gaze met mine.

"Z! Stop, please!" My pleading sounded much less authentic this time.

Z didn't listen. He humped against me, growing fully erect against my body. The sound of his shorts against my bare skin echoed through the row of cars. The asphalt bit into my asscheeks. Z moved in an uncoordinated fashion, letting out grunts and growls with each thrust. He started to feel and sound like an animal driven by instinct.

Z's shorts rolled up enough for his throbbing cock to fall free. It was thick and long. Large veins bulged out along the length and a bead of pre-cum had already formed. My heart raced at the feeling of his bare cock against my flesh. I tried one last time to push him away, but there was nothing I could do.

"Z, stop... Please." I couldn't honestly give it my full effort anymore, but maybe I didn't want to.

Z pulled back just to enough to rip his shorts the rest of the way off.

Z grabbed my face hard, forcing my eyes to meet his. He lined his erection up with my asshole, teased the entrance for a bit, then shoved himself in full force. It was pure, searing pain. I bit my lower lip to suppress a scream as tears welled in my eyes. His thrusts were immediately rough and relentless.

"It hurts." I whimpered.

Z didn't respond. He continued to hold my face and fuck into me. Cold sweat from his bldy dripped onto mine, sending me into a full body shiver.

I tried to relax into his movements so my ass could adjust to him. The continued onslaught made me feel something I didn't think possible. My heart quickened, my breath came ragged, and my muscles tensed as I braced for more pain, but the pain faded to pleasure. It shocked me to my core. The sick and twisted pleasure made me arch my back off the ground and grunt as I tried to force myself to stay quiet. A warm tingling sensation spread throughout my entire body, starting from where Z was penetrating me.

Small groans of pleasure slipped through my lips. I tried so hard not to, but it was impossible. My ass felt fully adjusted and wanted every second of it.

Z continued to thrust into me relentlessly, his eyes locked onto mine. The feeling of his hips driving into me forced me to get more and more aroused with every second. I couldn't resist. It was no use trying. Z's cock filled me up in ways I didn't even know I missed. Each thrust drove against my prostate, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my veins. My ass stretched out around him more than it ever had in my past. I felt violated and desired all at once, only adding to the toxic allure.

Z yanked me up, pinned me to his chest, and sat back on his knees, fucking balls deep into me. The pain got more intense at this angle, but it was mixed with the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation of being filled almost past capacity. I could feel every detail of his cock painfully accurately.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. The underside of my cock rubbed against his stomach with each thrust. Z growled low in his throat, his hips pistoning back and forth. The only sound I could process in that moment was our bodies slapping together. His warm breath fanned across my face and check. He grunted, growled, and snarled with each thrust. His eyes rolled back into his head as he lost himself in the moment.

I hated to admit to myself how hot this felt, how much it was getting me off to be taken and used. It had been so uncomfortably long since I'd been fucked, even before the apocalypse started.

As Z continued his brutal pounding, I clung to him helplessly. The onslaught of sensations caused my mind to go numb, only focused on feeling good and cumming. The pain was still there, a dull ache that resonated throughout my body, but it was mixed with an intense pleasure that I didn't want to deny anymore.

"Z, I'm gonna cum." I whimpered, unsure if he even understood.

Z's eyes narrowed, "Cum," he growled.

His thrusts became so forceful I was afraid my pelvis might break. Each thrust drove him deeper into my ass and against my prostate. I shook in his arms. My body could barely take anymore. An impending orgasm started to build in my core.

I tried to suppress it out of shame, but the feeling built up until it was unbearable. The slow-building climax worked its way up my shaft agonizingly. I couldn't escape the ecstasy.

The orgasm itself crashed into me violently, it sent shuddering waves of pleasure coursing through me down to my core. My cum shot out in hot, thick ropes across our chests and stomachs.

Z growled in satisfaction, "Good."

I whimpered and cried profanities as the giant zombie kept me tight against his chest. Now too long after my orgasm subsided, Z's thrusts became sloppier, needier, and more primal. With a few more good thrusts, his throbbing cock pulsed inside me, filling me with warm, thick cum. He kept going, milking his cock with my trembling asshole. I was too full. Each thrust forced more of the sticky hot mess to dripped down our bodies onto the ground. Z snarled low in his throat, a mix of pleasure and aggression.

I didn't move, unsure of how Z was going to react after everything. Several long moments passed before Z's movements slowed down. He finally pulled out of me, leaving me feeling empty and sore.

I fell to the ground with a harsh thud, panting heavily. I wiped the sweat from my eyes and looked up at him, unsure of what to say or do next. He watched me. His breathing slowed.

"Sorry." He finally grunted.

I looked up at Z, my mind a jumble of emotions and thoughts. Part of me was disgusted by what had just happened, but another part couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. I tried to push those feelings aside as I watched him cautiously.

"It's... fine," I said.

"Logan pretty," Z tried to explain, "Z lonely.... very long."

I could tell Z was struggling to find the words, his eyes searching my face for understanding. I forced a small smile and nodded, not wanting to make things worse.

"Let's go get bathed up. There's moving water less than a quarter mile from here," I suggested.

Z nodded slowly, his expression still somewhat guarded. He helped me to my feet, and together, we made our way towards the river. The air was cool against my sweaty skin, and I couldn't help but feel grateful for the relief. I noticed that having Z with me kept any other zombies at bay. What would be a pretty stressful journey was now a short walk. Getting new pants would be easy if Z stayed with me to keep straggling zombies as bay. He owed me that much after ripping mine.

When we got to the river, I immediately started washing, even as Z stared at me. The feeling of his dry cum on my skin mixed with the dirt was sensory hell.

"Z come here," I motioned for him to join me, trying not to let my discomfort show.

He hesitated for a moment before stepping into the water, his eyes never leaving me. I washed myself quickly, trying to get rid of the feeling of being violated, but also the memory of just how arousing it was to be taken without question. Z seemed content to simply stand there, watching me.

When I realized he wasn't going to wash himself, I washed him. My eyes and hands got distracted by a few healing wounds.

"Do you remember turning?" I asked.

Z shrugged, "Bad time, but Z strong now," each word was still a struggle, and he looked down at himself, flexing his muscles, "Z can protect Logan."

I hesitated. He could've killed me, but he didn't. Maybe a zombie would make a good bodyguard.

"Okay, but you can't sleep near me."

Z smiled down at me, "Good."