Fic: His First Time
Title His First Time
Rating NC-17
Fandom Zombieland
Characters -
Pairing Tallahassee/Columbus
Summery Columbus has never had sex. Tallahassee doesn't initially care. Predictably, events transpire and change both of these facts.
(This was my first Zland fic too!)
It didn’t matter where they went. Zombies were everywhere; taking over America in less than two months and now spilling over the Canadian and Mexican borders. It didn’t seem to discourage Tallahassee, ever present snarl dulling down to a quiet rumble and a slight curl of his lips. Columbus was less than concerned with the rapidly expanding Zombie populace. His family was dead, his few friends longer than gone, and anything that had mattered was back in Texas or “home” in Ohio.
Not that home mattered much either. Home was whatever vehicle came across their long path to nowhere and they were each other’s new family. Wichita and Little Rock took refuge back in 90210, the only guaranteed Zombie safe haven (why, they still hadn’t figured out). Columbus and Tallahassee pressed onward and upward, exploring Northern California road by road, no clear destination before them. Fine by both of them. Tallahassee was content to keep busy with the Zombies and Columbus learned to accept company.
They talked. Mostly they sat, quiet and pensive, but sometimes they would talk. They talked about everything, starting with novelties; food, gadgets, places they’ve been, people they’ve met (but both agreed Bill Murray was probably number 1). Eventually, Tallahassee being Tallahassee-that is, a full blooded American man, born and raised in the heart of Hicksville US of A-would eventually begin to grill Columbus on the ways of the heart. Well, not so much heart as it was another bit of anatomy, but it didn’t seem to matter.
Of course not.
“First time. Go,” Tallahassee challenged as they sped over wide-open Highway 99. Columbus took his sweet time, shifting and stuffing his hands between his legs to keep them warm-what with the heater being out on this particular H3. He wheezed out an uncomfortable breath and stared out the window at the passing, ice-tipped wildness, wishing so much for a blanket or another topic of conversation.
“Shy,” Tallahassee finally grunted, swerving around a burning Accord left helpless in the middle of the road, “Fine. I was sixteen. Girlfriend over for the night, lot later than she shoulda been there, watched a movie, got under covers and, as it goes…”
“Nice,” Columbus mumbled, feeling his lips buzz with the cold air numbing them. He licked his lips, knowing full well that they’d chap in no time. It didn’t bother him; not so much as did Tallahassee’s burning stare and the slowing of the car. Columbus closed his eyes.
“…Well, come on,” Tallahassee persisted, accent thick and heady in Columbus’ brain, “That Hills bitch couldn’ta been your first.”
“She wasn’t,” Columbus admitted and refused to look at the devil-eyed hick that had become his new bodyguard.
“Spill it.”
Columbus sighed hard, shrugging it off casually, “Totally justifiable to speculate on.”
“What?”
“I never had sex,” Columbus finally admitted, eyes closed and forehead cooling against the icy glass. He could practically feel Tallahassee judging him, right before that stupid laugh-complete with a snort-erupted in the car. Columbus wished for death then, and uncurled from his seat to watch Tallahassee lose his mind with mirth, bent over the steering wheel and clutching his hat to his nearly shaven head.
“Nah, nah,” Tallahassee finally gasped, waving one hand at Columbus, “You… you… ha! Ah, fuck, that was what I needed.”
The car started back up, Columbus’ mortification intact, and they were cruising down the road once more.
“Alright, new question,” A smile was lurking beneath that drawl, Columbus knew, “How far’ve you gotten?”
“I…” Columbus’s nails raked on the fabric of the seat, “I kissed Wichita.”
The car pulled to a stop in the middle of the road (not that that mattered). Columbus and Tallahassee looked at each other at the same time, a long stare being held by defiance and disbelief. Tallahassee spoke first, as always.
“Never figured just how much of a bitch you really were,” Tallahassee scowled and Columbus could feel the judgment reigning down upon him.
“Shut up,” Columbus bit back, tired and cold and miserable and sick of this hick he’d been stuck in a car with for over five hours. His stomach growled then, loud and ferocious, and Columbus sat far back with a tired gaze.
“Bitch.”
“Shut up.”
Tallahassee narrowed his eyes, put the car back in gear, and took off down the road, heading farther north by miles at a time, and the two fell back into silence. In a few hours’ time, it was Columbus’ turn to drive and he thought to seek out a place to pull over and sleep safely. Difficult to decide, what with those damn Zombies crawling out of the woodwork when you were never ready and fuck were they fast. But going on no sleep down a long, straight road without food in your stomach was a recipe for disaster, Zombie apocalypse or not. So when Tallahassee was long asleep, snoring lightly and curled up into his snakeskin jacket, Columbus pulled over, locked all the doors and windows, and settled into the backseat for a well-earned night of sleep.
His stomach began to burn around 3 am, when it was curling in on itself and causing pain, even in the escape of dreamland, where no Zombies were allowed. Columbus startled awake from his dream of McDonald’s and warm beds, hips pressed against the seat and the cold hanging in the air like Autumn leaves. Tallahassee was still asleep, but had apparently woken up enough to stretch out over the front row, hat tipped over his face and fingers twitching with a nightmare. Columbus shivered, cold, hungry, and feverishly hot in the pit of his stomach; but he knew this feeling. His eyes fell shut and a soft, warm breath escaped as his hips rutted half-heartedly.
Hard-on from a Big Mac dream? Nice one. Columbus grunted, tired, and pushed both hands into his worn-through briefs. His gasp was loud when his icy hands met his blood-warmed erection, and for a minute, he was too shocked to move. But a shuffling quickly pushed discomfort onto the backburner, because he suddenly found that grip, that one that helped him imagine pushing into some girl out of his league and helped him feel like a winner for one of the very fewest times in his life.
Recent memories being what they were, Wichita’s image was hard to recall, but he could picture her hair, her dark eyes, her curves. Columbus swallowed, hips paying no mind to sound or solitude, and gasped shakily. She was gorgeous in his mind, naked and pale, and soft in all the right places. She didn’t smell like she normally did, a little sweat and dirt from scarcity of shower in God knows how long, but she smelled sweet like mangoes and watermelon, and Columbus’ stomach growled again. There was a shuffle from the first row and normally vigilant Columbus ignored it, feeling close already with the image of Wichita, all soft and writhing and full breasts and a tight stomach and soft hands-
“Kid, come on,” Tallahassee’s accent was thick as ever, but his voice was sleepy and ignorant to Columbus’ affairs, “Your fucking stomach woke me up. We gotta get some food or something. Twinkies… I dunno.”
Columbus, frozen in fear, face pressed against the seat with his hands still gripping his erection, made no reply. Maybe he’d think he was sleeping? No dice, of course, because Tallahassee liked to be sure of every damn thing. A harsh finger dug into his side, making him jump in just the wrong way. He gasped twice, first from the jab and second from the inadvertent jerk.
“Rise and shine, bucko,” That stupid twang! Columbus scowled into the seat and curled away, choosing for the ever-popular “cranky to wake” approach, “C’mon, we don’t have time to fuck around.”
Reluctant, aching, and ready to kick someone’s teeth in (not necessarily Tallahassee because he’s kind of terrifying), Columbus carefully turned so his hips were still down and concealed. His hair, fucking mess that it always was, was skewed over his eyes, dark and rimmed with blue iris. Tallahassee motioned to the driver’s seat.
“Your throne, sleeping prince.”
“Can you drive?” His voice was a tone darker than he meant, but what could he do? He was still achingly hard and twitching against his confining pants. His mind was muttering swears breathlessly as he and Tallahassee had a silent argument. For a long, painful moment, neither man spoke; Columbus’ embarrassment and arousal kept him quiet while Tallahassee’s fury drove him into a repulsed silence.
“I’m not driving. Get your skinny ass up here.”
“No.”
That stare was fucking terrifying, Columbus would be the first to admit. Tallahassee wrote the book on Crazy Eyes and damn did he know how to use them. The only other time he saw those eyes, weirdly enough, was when he sprayed him with perfume, and that had launched The Great Destruction of Indian Novelties of ’09. This time…
Columbus was hauled up, somehow, by his shirt and twisted around so bizarrely that his feet were kicked up over the back seat, his shirt rucked up and exposing his stomach as well as, horrifically enough, the obvious bulge in his pants. Tallahassee was mere inches from his face, overwhelming him with some strange combination of neglected hygiene and manly musk that Columbus knew he’d never achieve, even if he lived to be 100. Tallahassee’s eyes, a bizarre tint of neon blue, were boring into him like divine judgment, making Columbus squirm and struggle and-
Twitch.
He twitched. Just by the mere contact, eye-to-eye, Columbus had twitched. He’d never been so instantaneously aroused, but damn those Crazy Eyes, they were driving him insane. It was all he could do to not think horrible things, not with Tallahassee, please not that. In a second, those crazy blue eyes flicked down to the incriminating bulge and his scowl deepened. Columbus predicted laughter, mortification, name-calling…
“Oh you bitch. You’re not driving because you’ve got a fucking hard-on??”
“Ah-“
“Alright, what dream was it?” Those eyes widened, expectant of a juicy answer, one worth remembering, not the inexplicable horror of the real dream that had Columbus aching in the first place; two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, all on a sesame bun.
“I don’t… ah…” Columbus struggled, body trying to worm away.
“Come on. Was it Wichita?”
Sadly no, Columbus thought mournfully, but decided against sharing, “Y-yes.”
He seemed to approve, because the grip on his neckline slackened to a point where Columbus could sit on the consol between the front row seats, slumped and miserable and horny with Tallahassee’s inane and invasive questions reigning down.
“Don’t blame you. Bitch is a little cunt but… yeah, she’d be right with you,” Tallahassee said almost pensively and took a moment to reflect. Meanwhile, Columbus was still trying to get his breathing under control, because it wasn’t bad enough that he’d been caught masturbating (though, it didn’t seem as if Tallahassee were fully aware of that part; it was mostly just the erection he noticed), no, he had to make it worse by actually liking the sound of that redneck drawl or those fucking Crazy Eyes that screamed with rage whenever Tallahassee even thought of getting angry.
Funny how this was more painful than the entire Zombie apocalypse. Maybe he had more issues than he knew.
By the time he realized this, however, Tallahassee had gone off on some tangent about sex; how he hadn’t gotten any in months, how he hadn’t had time for wet-dreams or a proper jerking off. Columbus regarded him with a tired, lonely look as he kept going on and on about something raunchy and inappropriate for the new acquaintances that they were, but once he started on sex, just like his quest for Twinkies, he didn’t care to stop.
“…Would give for a good fuck, kid. You don’t know how it is going this long, but God, it’s driving me up a fucking wall.” Tallahassee finished up abruptly, with a pointed stare to somewhere about Columbus’ hips.
That hit him like a piano. The very implication set his heart hammering, his mind racing, and admittedly, his groin tightening momentarily. Would he really do that? Seriously? Right in this Hummer that served as their home and bomb shelter against the chaos and cacophony of the outside world? Would he allow himself to lose his virginity to this dangerous, homicidal hick that illogically took him under his wing on that ghost-ridden road, among the empty cars and deserted hope? Not once did he ever question his sexuality, but he had no experience in either realm so how could he kn-
“Wanna fuck?” Tallahassee asked suddenly, fingers threaded over his stomach and eyebrows raised in some sort of crazy posture that screamed indifference. Columbus felt his stomach clench and for no reason, his head was bobbing curtly.
He was captured like a wild animal and forced on top of Tallahassee, straddling thicker hips and feeling an answering erection pushing against his jeans. He let out a tight, nervous breath and quickly swallowed as Tallahassee worked on opening up his button-up shirt, but that only revealed a shirt below it. Layers kept you warm and could cool you easily, Columbus almost argued (Rule 16), but Tallahassee didn’t care (why would he?). Columbus suddenly found himself pushed back against the dashboard with his shirt bunching around his armpits and Tallahassee’s mouth was on his chest, wasting no time and immediately licking and nipping at his pale chest. His tongue laved over his nipple and Columbus gasped raggedly, fumbling for something to hold while Tallahassee’s rough hands held him in just the right place.
“Wh-“ Columbus gasped and felt more than saw a hand tugging at his pants. But the older man remained stoic, focusing his mouth on Columbus’ chest and his hands on the task of getting those stupid slacks off of him. In no time, they were, and Tallahassee was pushing two thick fingers into Columbus’ mouth, telling him to suck. He did, confused and choking, but once he found a grip on the man’s wrist and held it back a bit, Columbus set to do the best job he could on sucking and licking his fingers. Tallahassee growled, a curiously fond noise now, as Columbus haphazardly licked and sucked and swallowed the fingers as best he could.
“Fuck,” Tallahassee breathed, his free hand working on pulling his pants open while Columbus kept his job up, “Forgot just how good virgins were…”
Columbus pulled the fingers from his mouth and scowled half-heartedly. “Don’t patronize me.”
“Shut up and limber up,” Tallahassee was smirking, and that was a terrible sign. Before Columbus knew it, he was sitting up on his knees, eyes wide and staring out the back of the hummer while two rough fingers pushed up into him, and he never thought he’d lose his virginity this way, with some stupid hick…
“How’s it?” Tallahassee grunted. Columbus shuddered and pushed his hips down without warning, feeling callused fingers push against something inside him that made him want to get as much of Tallahassee inside him at once. A few more minutes of a teasing finger fuck and Columbus knew he’d lost his mind when he suddenly choked out, “Tah-come on! Please…!”
Tallahassee was busy nipping along the base of his throat, three fingers rolling inside of Columbus and the other hand slowly working on himself. Columbus’ hips, bucking frantically now, pushed down as insistently as he could to get his attention. Please, just notice this one thing, out of everything else.
Fingers gone, hand in his hair and on his hip, guiding him down onto Tallahassee’s dick and his mouth to the other man’s. The kiss started slow and awkward, hesitant and dangerous, just like when they met on that lonely road in Northern Texas. But soon, Columbus gasped harshly, mouth wide against Tallahassee’s and begging to be nipped and licked and sucked and kissed, right as his hips started nudging deep as he could get inside that round ass that he’d found himself staring at in empty grocery stores when Zombies had died their final death and the two humans were foraging for food. Eventually, Columbus came to rest straddling Tallahassee’s thighs, having the other man deep inside him and panting in quick, shallow breaths against his mouth. Tallahassee pressed him back again to the dashboard, shifting inside him, and pulled one half-clothed thigh up around his shoulder. Columbus didn’t complain, spine already limber and agile from his compulsive stretching before every little thing, and the way Tallahassee was looming over him, taking his mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss like he could only imagine before this, it was all making him so horny, too turned on to think or speak, do anything but feel.
The pace was brutal; quick rutting and sliding against the dashboard like they didn’t have time to waste, and really they didn’t. Columbus tried to breathe as much as he could, gasping into Tallahassee’s mouth and clawing at his shoulders desperately while his hips jerked in the same unforgiving rhythm and Tallahassee growled lewd things against his lips, telling him he was so tight, so hot, so fucking good, that’s it, kid, right there, let go, just let go, stop fucking thinking for once and tell me what you need-
“Tallahah--!” Columbus’ body convulsed; once, twice, and then his head snapped back, mouth open and gasping as he came all over Tallahassee’s stomach and shirt, as well as his own, and his whole body rocked with the best fucking orgasm he’d ever had. Tallahassee wasn’t quite finished, rutting and pushing hard and deep for another minute or so until he came, growling something with a harsh ‘k’ sound in it, but Columbus didn’t hear, too dazed from orgasm to care about the way his body, sweaty and exposed, lay on top of a man old enough to be his father for God's sake.
Two hours later, they were grabbing bags of potato chips and bottles of water from a deserted Wal-Mart, as if nothing happened. As if Columbus hadn’t finally lost his virginity, as if Tallahassee hadn’t given him a mind-blowing orgasm and soon after taught him the finer points of a driver’s seat handjob. No, now it was business as usual, one dead Zombie bleeding over by the spoiled dairy products, and Columbus was digging both hands into a bag of Doritos because he was long past starved.
“Your name’s too long,” He said behind corn chips and powdered cheese. Tallahassee turned, looking down his nose at him, and pried open a can of peanuts.
“How’s that?”
“I can’t say the whole thing.”
Tallahassee turned, curling his lip back the way he did when Columbus was being a stupid son of a bitch, “Fuck’s sake, yes you can.”
“I got as far as ‘Tallahah-‘ and got cut off.”
“Too fucking bad, ‘Cl’mbus’.” Tallahassee mocked, popping peanuts into his mouth.
Columbus thought for a moment and then tried something else, “I think I saw some Mentos by the front.”
“What are you saying?”
“…It’s the Freshmaker.”
“Shut up.”
End.
Rating NC-17
Fandom Zombieland
Characters -
Pairing Tallahassee/Columbus
Summery Columbus has never had sex. Tallahassee doesn't initially care. Predictably, events transpire and change both of these facts.
(This was my first Zland fic too!)
It didn’t matter where they went. Zombies were everywhere; taking over America in less than two months and now spilling over the Canadian and Mexican borders. It didn’t seem to discourage Tallahassee, ever present snarl dulling down to a quiet rumble and a slight curl of his lips. Columbus was less than concerned with the rapidly expanding Zombie populace. His family was dead, his few friends longer than gone, and anything that had mattered was back in Texas or “home” in Ohio.
Not that home mattered much either. Home was whatever vehicle came across their long path to nowhere and they were each other’s new family. Wichita and Little Rock took refuge back in 90210, the only guaranteed Zombie safe haven (why, they still hadn’t figured out). Columbus and Tallahassee pressed onward and upward, exploring Northern California road by road, no clear destination before them. Fine by both of them. Tallahassee was content to keep busy with the Zombies and Columbus learned to accept company.
They talked. Mostly they sat, quiet and pensive, but sometimes they would talk. They talked about everything, starting with novelties; food, gadgets, places they’ve been, people they’ve met (but both agreed Bill Murray was probably number 1). Eventually, Tallahassee being Tallahassee-that is, a full blooded American man, born and raised in the heart of Hicksville US of A-would eventually begin to grill Columbus on the ways of the heart. Well, not so much heart as it was another bit of anatomy, but it didn’t seem to matter.
Of course not.
“First time. Go,” Tallahassee challenged as they sped over wide-open Highway 99. Columbus took his sweet time, shifting and stuffing his hands between his legs to keep them warm-what with the heater being out on this particular H3. He wheezed out an uncomfortable breath and stared out the window at the passing, ice-tipped wildness, wishing so much for a blanket or another topic of conversation.
“Shy,” Tallahassee finally grunted, swerving around a burning Accord left helpless in the middle of the road, “Fine. I was sixteen. Girlfriend over for the night, lot later than she shoulda been there, watched a movie, got under covers and, as it goes…”
“Nice,” Columbus mumbled, feeling his lips buzz with the cold air numbing them. He licked his lips, knowing full well that they’d chap in no time. It didn’t bother him; not so much as did Tallahassee’s burning stare and the slowing of the car. Columbus closed his eyes.
“…Well, come on,” Tallahassee persisted, accent thick and heady in Columbus’ brain, “That Hills bitch couldn’ta been your first.”
“She wasn’t,” Columbus admitted and refused to look at the devil-eyed hick that had become his new bodyguard.
“Spill it.”
Columbus sighed hard, shrugging it off casually, “Totally justifiable to speculate on.”
“What?”
“I never had sex,” Columbus finally admitted, eyes closed and forehead cooling against the icy glass. He could practically feel Tallahassee judging him, right before that stupid laugh-complete with a snort-erupted in the car. Columbus wished for death then, and uncurled from his seat to watch Tallahassee lose his mind with mirth, bent over the steering wheel and clutching his hat to his nearly shaven head.
“Nah, nah,” Tallahassee finally gasped, waving one hand at Columbus, “You… you… ha! Ah, fuck, that was what I needed.”
The car started back up, Columbus’ mortification intact, and they were cruising down the road once more.
“Alright, new question,” A smile was lurking beneath that drawl, Columbus knew, “How far’ve you gotten?”
“I…” Columbus’s nails raked on the fabric of the seat, “I kissed Wichita.”
The car pulled to a stop in the middle of the road (not that that mattered). Columbus and Tallahassee looked at each other at the same time, a long stare being held by defiance and disbelief. Tallahassee spoke first, as always.
“Never figured just how much of a bitch you really were,” Tallahassee scowled and Columbus could feel the judgment reigning down upon him.
“Shut up,” Columbus bit back, tired and cold and miserable and sick of this hick he’d been stuck in a car with for over five hours. His stomach growled then, loud and ferocious, and Columbus sat far back with a tired gaze.
“Bitch.”
“Shut up.”
Tallahassee narrowed his eyes, put the car back in gear, and took off down the road, heading farther north by miles at a time, and the two fell back into silence. In a few hours’ time, it was Columbus’ turn to drive and he thought to seek out a place to pull over and sleep safely. Difficult to decide, what with those damn Zombies crawling out of the woodwork when you were never ready and fuck were they fast. But going on no sleep down a long, straight road without food in your stomach was a recipe for disaster, Zombie apocalypse or not. So when Tallahassee was long asleep, snoring lightly and curled up into his snakeskin jacket, Columbus pulled over, locked all the doors and windows, and settled into the backseat for a well-earned night of sleep.
His stomach began to burn around 3 am, when it was curling in on itself and causing pain, even in the escape of dreamland, where no Zombies were allowed. Columbus startled awake from his dream of McDonald’s and warm beds, hips pressed against the seat and the cold hanging in the air like Autumn leaves. Tallahassee was still asleep, but had apparently woken up enough to stretch out over the front row, hat tipped over his face and fingers twitching with a nightmare. Columbus shivered, cold, hungry, and feverishly hot in the pit of his stomach; but he knew this feeling. His eyes fell shut and a soft, warm breath escaped as his hips rutted half-heartedly.
Hard-on from a Big Mac dream? Nice one. Columbus grunted, tired, and pushed both hands into his worn-through briefs. His gasp was loud when his icy hands met his blood-warmed erection, and for a minute, he was too shocked to move. But a shuffling quickly pushed discomfort onto the backburner, because he suddenly found that grip, that one that helped him imagine pushing into some girl out of his league and helped him feel like a winner for one of the very fewest times in his life.
Recent memories being what they were, Wichita’s image was hard to recall, but he could picture her hair, her dark eyes, her curves. Columbus swallowed, hips paying no mind to sound or solitude, and gasped shakily. She was gorgeous in his mind, naked and pale, and soft in all the right places. She didn’t smell like she normally did, a little sweat and dirt from scarcity of shower in God knows how long, but she smelled sweet like mangoes and watermelon, and Columbus’ stomach growled again. There was a shuffle from the first row and normally vigilant Columbus ignored it, feeling close already with the image of Wichita, all soft and writhing and full breasts and a tight stomach and soft hands-
“Kid, come on,” Tallahassee’s accent was thick as ever, but his voice was sleepy and ignorant to Columbus’ affairs, “Your fucking stomach woke me up. We gotta get some food or something. Twinkies… I dunno.”
Columbus, frozen in fear, face pressed against the seat with his hands still gripping his erection, made no reply. Maybe he’d think he was sleeping? No dice, of course, because Tallahassee liked to be sure of every damn thing. A harsh finger dug into his side, making him jump in just the wrong way. He gasped twice, first from the jab and second from the inadvertent jerk.
“Rise and shine, bucko,” That stupid twang! Columbus scowled into the seat and curled away, choosing for the ever-popular “cranky to wake” approach, “C’mon, we don’t have time to fuck around.”
Reluctant, aching, and ready to kick someone’s teeth in (not necessarily Tallahassee because he’s kind of terrifying), Columbus carefully turned so his hips were still down and concealed. His hair, fucking mess that it always was, was skewed over his eyes, dark and rimmed with blue iris. Tallahassee motioned to the driver’s seat.
“Your throne, sleeping prince.”
“Can you drive?” His voice was a tone darker than he meant, but what could he do? He was still achingly hard and twitching against his confining pants. His mind was muttering swears breathlessly as he and Tallahassee had a silent argument. For a long, painful moment, neither man spoke; Columbus’ embarrassment and arousal kept him quiet while Tallahassee’s fury drove him into a repulsed silence.
“I’m not driving. Get your skinny ass up here.”
“No.”
That stare was fucking terrifying, Columbus would be the first to admit. Tallahassee wrote the book on Crazy Eyes and damn did he know how to use them. The only other time he saw those eyes, weirdly enough, was when he sprayed him with perfume, and that had launched The Great Destruction of Indian Novelties of ’09. This time…
Columbus was hauled up, somehow, by his shirt and twisted around so bizarrely that his feet were kicked up over the back seat, his shirt rucked up and exposing his stomach as well as, horrifically enough, the obvious bulge in his pants. Tallahassee was mere inches from his face, overwhelming him with some strange combination of neglected hygiene and manly musk that Columbus knew he’d never achieve, even if he lived to be 100. Tallahassee’s eyes, a bizarre tint of neon blue, were boring into him like divine judgment, making Columbus squirm and struggle and-
Twitch.
He twitched. Just by the mere contact, eye-to-eye, Columbus had twitched. He’d never been so instantaneously aroused, but damn those Crazy Eyes, they were driving him insane. It was all he could do to not think horrible things, not with Tallahassee, please not that. In a second, those crazy blue eyes flicked down to the incriminating bulge and his scowl deepened. Columbus predicted laughter, mortification, name-calling…
“Oh you bitch. You’re not driving because you’ve got a fucking hard-on??”
“Ah-“
“Alright, what dream was it?” Those eyes widened, expectant of a juicy answer, one worth remembering, not the inexplicable horror of the real dream that had Columbus aching in the first place; two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, all on a sesame bun.
“I don’t… ah…” Columbus struggled, body trying to worm away.
“Come on. Was it Wichita?”
Sadly no, Columbus thought mournfully, but decided against sharing, “Y-yes.”
He seemed to approve, because the grip on his neckline slackened to a point where Columbus could sit on the consol between the front row seats, slumped and miserable and horny with Tallahassee’s inane and invasive questions reigning down.
“Don’t blame you. Bitch is a little cunt but… yeah, she’d be right with you,” Tallahassee said almost pensively and took a moment to reflect. Meanwhile, Columbus was still trying to get his breathing under control, because it wasn’t bad enough that he’d been caught masturbating (though, it didn’t seem as if Tallahassee were fully aware of that part; it was mostly just the erection he noticed), no, he had to make it worse by actually liking the sound of that redneck drawl or those fucking Crazy Eyes that screamed with rage whenever Tallahassee even thought of getting angry.
Funny how this was more painful than the entire Zombie apocalypse. Maybe he had more issues than he knew.
By the time he realized this, however, Tallahassee had gone off on some tangent about sex; how he hadn’t gotten any in months, how he hadn’t had time for wet-dreams or a proper jerking off. Columbus regarded him with a tired, lonely look as he kept going on and on about something raunchy and inappropriate for the new acquaintances that they were, but once he started on sex, just like his quest for Twinkies, he didn’t care to stop.
“…Would give for a good fuck, kid. You don’t know how it is going this long, but God, it’s driving me up a fucking wall.” Tallahassee finished up abruptly, with a pointed stare to somewhere about Columbus’ hips.
That hit him like a piano. The very implication set his heart hammering, his mind racing, and admittedly, his groin tightening momentarily. Would he really do that? Seriously? Right in this Hummer that served as their home and bomb shelter against the chaos and cacophony of the outside world? Would he allow himself to lose his virginity to this dangerous, homicidal hick that illogically took him under his wing on that ghost-ridden road, among the empty cars and deserted hope? Not once did he ever question his sexuality, but he had no experience in either realm so how could he kn-
“Wanna fuck?” Tallahassee asked suddenly, fingers threaded over his stomach and eyebrows raised in some sort of crazy posture that screamed indifference. Columbus felt his stomach clench and for no reason, his head was bobbing curtly.
He was captured like a wild animal and forced on top of Tallahassee, straddling thicker hips and feeling an answering erection pushing against his jeans. He let out a tight, nervous breath and quickly swallowed as Tallahassee worked on opening up his button-up shirt, but that only revealed a shirt below it. Layers kept you warm and could cool you easily, Columbus almost argued (Rule 16), but Tallahassee didn’t care (why would he?). Columbus suddenly found himself pushed back against the dashboard with his shirt bunching around his armpits and Tallahassee’s mouth was on his chest, wasting no time and immediately licking and nipping at his pale chest. His tongue laved over his nipple and Columbus gasped raggedly, fumbling for something to hold while Tallahassee’s rough hands held him in just the right place.
“Wh-“ Columbus gasped and felt more than saw a hand tugging at his pants. But the older man remained stoic, focusing his mouth on Columbus’ chest and his hands on the task of getting those stupid slacks off of him. In no time, they were, and Tallahassee was pushing two thick fingers into Columbus’ mouth, telling him to suck. He did, confused and choking, but once he found a grip on the man’s wrist and held it back a bit, Columbus set to do the best job he could on sucking and licking his fingers. Tallahassee growled, a curiously fond noise now, as Columbus haphazardly licked and sucked and swallowed the fingers as best he could.
“Fuck,” Tallahassee breathed, his free hand working on pulling his pants open while Columbus kept his job up, “Forgot just how good virgins were…”
Columbus pulled the fingers from his mouth and scowled half-heartedly. “Don’t patronize me.”
“Shut up and limber up,” Tallahassee was smirking, and that was a terrible sign. Before Columbus knew it, he was sitting up on his knees, eyes wide and staring out the back of the hummer while two rough fingers pushed up into him, and he never thought he’d lose his virginity this way, with some stupid hick…
“How’s it?” Tallahassee grunted. Columbus shuddered and pushed his hips down without warning, feeling callused fingers push against something inside him that made him want to get as much of Tallahassee inside him at once. A few more minutes of a teasing finger fuck and Columbus knew he’d lost his mind when he suddenly choked out, “Tah-come on! Please…!”
Tallahassee was busy nipping along the base of his throat, three fingers rolling inside of Columbus and the other hand slowly working on himself. Columbus’ hips, bucking frantically now, pushed down as insistently as he could to get his attention. Please, just notice this one thing, out of everything else.
Fingers gone, hand in his hair and on his hip, guiding him down onto Tallahassee’s dick and his mouth to the other man’s. The kiss started slow and awkward, hesitant and dangerous, just like when they met on that lonely road in Northern Texas. But soon, Columbus gasped harshly, mouth wide against Tallahassee’s and begging to be nipped and licked and sucked and kissed, right as his hips started nudging deep as he could get inside that round ass that he’d found himself staring at in empty grocery stores when Zombies had died their final death and the two humans were foraging for food. Eventually, Columbus came to rest straddling Tallahassee’s thighs, having the other man deep inside him and panting in quick, shallow breaths against his mouth. Tallahassee pressed him back again to the dashboard, shifting inside him, and pulled one half-clothed thigh up around his shoulder. Columbus didn’t complain, spine already limber and agile from his compulsive stretching before every little thing, and the way Tallahassee was looming over him, taking his mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss like he could only imagine before this, it was all making him so horny, too turned on to think or speak, do anything but feel.
The pace was brutal; quick rutting and sliding against the dashboard like they didn’t have time to waste, and really they didn’t. Columbus tried to breathe as much as he could, gasping into Tallahassee’s mouth and clawing at his shoulders desperately while his hips jerked in the same unforgiving rhythm and Tallahassee growled lewd things against his lips, telling him he was so tight, so hot, so fucking good, that’s it, kid, right there, let go, just let go, stop fucking thinking for once and tell me what you need-
“Tallahah--!” Columbus’ body convulsed; once, twice, and then his head snapped back, mouth open and gasping as he came all over Tallahassee’s stomach and shirt, as well as his own, and his whole body rocked with the best fucking orgasm he’d ever had. Tallahassee wasn’t quite finished, rutting and pushing hard and deep for another minute or so until he came, growling something with a harsh ‘k’ sound in it, but Columbus didn’t hear, too dazed from orgasm to care about the way his body, sweaty and exposed, lay on top of a man old enough to be his father for God's sake.
Two hours later, they were grabbing bags of potato chips and bottles of water from a deserted Wal-Mart, as if nothing happened. As if Columbus hadn’t finally lost his virginity, as if Tallahassee hadn’t given him a mind-blowing orgasm and soon after taught him the finer points of a driver’s seat handjob. No, now it was business as usual, one dead Zombie bleeding over by the spoiled dairy products, and Columbus was digging both hands into a bag of Doritos because he was long past starved.
“Your name’s too long,” He said behind corn chips and powdered cheese. Tallahassee turned, looking down his nose at him, and pried open a can of peanuts.
“How’s that?”
“I can’t say the whole thing.”
Tallahassee turned, curling his lip back the way he did when Columbus was being a stupid son of a bitch, “Fuck’s sake, yes you can.”
“I got as far as ‘Tallahah-‘ and got cut off.”
“Too fucking bad, ‘Cl’mbus’.” Tallahassee mocked, popping peanuts into his mouth.
Columbus thought for a moment and then tried something else, “I think I saw some Mentos by the front.”
“What are you saying?”
“…It’s the Freshmaker.”
“Shut up.”
End.