Love That Defies Deterioration Part 2

Love That Defies Deterioration Part 2

Part 2

Alcohol of the Undead

Z slept poorly. It was unsettling at first, but I eventually adapted. Now and then, he'd press his snout into my back or neck while I slept, taking a lengthy breath. He had not pushed his boundaries this time. Usually, he would simply stay there, staring at his surroundings. He resembled a guard dog alert.

One day, when we were examining the rotting avenues, it seemed as if a storm was approaching. We didn't want to get caught in a thunderstorm. Aside from that, I was not eager to spend my energy battling a horde to secure a shelter and rest. The efforts, even with Z's assistance, were exhausting.

A distant light piqued my interest. It was a feeble yellow light, enveloped by nothing but darkness and the occasional lurking zombie. Light that remained functional in such circumstances was an anomaly.

I crouched down, signaling Z to follow. "Advance with caution. We don't want to add unwelcome peril."

The grit of the gravel under our feet was faint. We approached an aged liquor store adjoining a strip mall between a clothing store and a dollar store. Bars covered the windows, some of which were shattered. The exterior was illuminated by the delicate pink hue of a sun-faded 'Open' sign. A large grill fenced the entrance.

"Z, the gateway," I urged quietly, pointing at the padlock. "Detach it."

Z's gaze scanned the surroundings, concentrating on a large concrete block. He effortlessly hoisted it over his head and lowered it on the rusted lock. The cement block shattered upon impact. The chains and lock slid away, landing with a noisy clatter.

Z grinned self-importantly. "I am indispensable."

I scoffed. "Let's survey the situation."

The inner sense of the store yielded the stench of decomposition, but most shelves remained intact. Alcohol of every variety, soda, and some snacks were arranged neatly in the courtyard. My face widened, and my jaw dropped in wonder at the incredible luck.

The gentle clamor of a zombie getting up behind the cash register made me look around. He groaned as he slowly turned to face us. Zombies were drawn to running electrical current these days.

I cautioned, crouching down, "Z, the frontage."

Z nodded and stepped behind me, his height enabling a partial shield. The zombie behind the counter groaned, moving cautiously, his bones cracking. He stared at Z and me, as if unsure of what was transpiring.

Z made a series of growls. The zombie responded with incoherent noises before advancing. He raised his hand, his putridly rotten finger pointed toward me.

Z snarled, his expression transforming into one of enraged determination as he grabbed the zombie by the throat. The decomposing flesh crunched beneath his grip. The aroma of decomposition intensified, overwhelming my senses. He hauled the zombie snappily towards the exit, taking deliberate, strong strides.

Z issued, "I am no traitor."

Z realized the zombie could not comprehend English, so he reverted to his guttural clicks and growls. The other zombie attempted to utter a preference, but he could only produce a few raspy gurgles as Z picked him up with the thrashing monster.

Z spat, "I am no traitor."

The zombie attempted pathetically to create cries for aid, but he could only deliver a few raspy gurgles. Z vanished from sight, carrying the thrashing behemoth.

I stood there, motionless for a moment, my heart pulsing forcefully in my chest. The sight of Z's raw power and unyielding ferocity left me in awe. He vanquished the zombie with competence and efficiency. The store fell into silence once more, the sole sounds being my breaths mixed with the occasional noises of potential perils.

I shook my head, compelling myself to accomplish something, then I scoured the shop for any useful items. The air projected the heavy odor of death, smelling like a severely inebriated canine. The dim lights showered the space with a ghostly, flickering illumination. I moved quietly, concerned about any concealed risks.

(It's vital to improve your skill in paraphrasing without changing the essence and word choice to keep the reader engaged while not plagiarizing.)

In the back of the structure, I discovered an office for a manager. The interior of the office contained a restroom with a toilet that was trickling, cracked tiles, and peeling wallpaper. The sink dripped consistently, a modest sign of existence. Considering the rarity of drinkable water, this was a treasure trove. I had a relaxed sense of relief wash over me, but I didn't want to be overly optimistic about this. For every fortunate event, there would be a matching unlucky one.

I explored the rest of the area, seeking any useful items. It was a typical workplace for a boss, featuring a conventional workstation, a computer, and a carpet. The computer was damaged beyond repair, covered in what appeared to be spilled alcohol. The carpet was comfortable enough to sleep on awkwardly, which was preferable to nothing.

In the corner, a rather spacious, white, and red first-aid kit was perched atop a tall filing cabinet. I climbed on my tiptoes to reach the kit, my fingertips grazing the cold plastic several times before I was able to draw it close enough to wrap my fingers around the handle.

I opened the hinges with a tiny "click". Within the container were bandages, some gauze, antiseptic cream, and alcohol pads, in addition to a small bottle of ibuprofen. The entire kit had a faint hospital odor, but it would certainly be useful. I closed it and put it inside a large camo bag I carried with me.

I headed towards the store while admiring the inviting row of soda. I picked up a can of cola, feeling the familiar cold and weight of it in my grasp. My heart ached, and my chest throbbed with longing for a past that would never return. I surveyed the outside for any indication of approaching zombies before returning to the manager's office.

I rolled the office chair out, relishing in the typical sounds of its wheels moving against the floor. Despite its low-quality material, it felt like a throne beneath me. The fabric fibers brushed against my skin, and the worn cushions cupped my body. As I sipped on my cola, enjoying the still slightly fizzy sweetness, my mind drifted away. I reflected on how Z and I first met, wondering if I was comfortable with him. It felt as if I couldn't help but like Z, even if I didn't want to. The loneliness of the apocalypse had taken its toll.

Z eventually came back. His brow was furrowed and his jaw was clenched, his teeth grinding. His demeanor was rigid, even for a zombie, his shoulders hunched. My hands trembled and my heart was racing. I shut the metal gate with a loud clang, then locked the store's door with a subtle click.

"Other zombies see this... they--fight back. Don't need to be... targets." He exhaled, "Killed him."

"I'm sorry, Z."

He settled onto a chair close to the register, "Stay?"

"Yes. This place is a fine spot to establish a camp, at least for now."

Z hummed quietly. A silence filled the room as I checked for any weak spots that required reinforcement. The longer I toiled, the more attractive the drinks became.

My vision locked onto a luxury-priced apple pie whiskey. It was the end of the world, after all. Thus, I decided to take a bottle and start sipping.

The burn caught me off guard at first, but it didn't hurt too badly after a few drinks. Z watched me for a moment before getting his own beverage. He opened it and took a long draw.

"That doesn't even burn?" I commented.

Z shook his head, "I'm dead. I don't feel it."

I sat down beside him, sipping my drink, "Why are you like this? You should be like that zombie from earlier."

Z shrugged, "I remained alert. Didn't give up."

"Other zombies don't... well..."

Z scoffed, "They would. They're too hungry. No control, just targeting for food."

"That's awful."

Z shrugged once more, "Why continue living? Why not die."

"I didn't give up either," I admitted as I took another sipping.

A tranquil silence settled over us as I nursed my drink. Z occasionally moved closer. I didn't notice it initially, but he had moved to a new position every time I glanced up. I observed him for a while, a soft smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. He could be endearing when he chose to be. When he finally reached me, Z's shoulder rubbed up against mine.

"I want you," he murmured softly, his voice low but cautious.

I had been in a daze before, but as he approached, I sobered up. His breath reeked of alcohol and the expensive pine body wash we found in a mall near us. My thoughts had slowed to a contented hum. There was no denying the allure of Z's presence.

"Z...," I sighed softly, barely whispering.

Z tore off your shirt, exposing your chest to the cool night air of the liquor shop. His hot breath caressed your nipples, causing them to stiffen under his glance. He kept you in his soft gaze, filled with longing and desire. His pupils enlarged, and his breathing intensified.

"I'm not sure if it's safe for us to do this again," you stammered.

Z didn't budge, his eyes still fixed on yours. "I need you," he growled, his voice low and rough. "I will make you feel good."

You shook your head. The drunk, lonely, touch-deprived part of you yearned for him, but the rational part knew it was foolish. You tried to stand up on shaky legs. It was like attempting to stand on a boat with numb legs,

"Listen," you slurred before sprawling on the ground.

Curses. You let your defenses down and became way too intoxicated. Z caught you as you fell, and nested you in his lap. His muscular arms encircled your waist as if you were made for each other. You rested your head against his chest, feeling his somber heartbeat.

You slid your fingers under the neck of his shirt, tracing his collarbones. Z lightened his hold on your arms slightly and inhaled deeply.

"You want me," he growled, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through your body.

Your eyes widened with feigned astonishment, "I-I..."

Z nuzzled your neck, "You want me," he repeated, "You will have me."

Z pushed you to the floor, leaving you gasping for breath. He straddled your waist, "Say you want me."

You opened your mouth, prepared to deny it, but you didn't want to. There was no one around to judge you for being taboo. It was just you and Z, in solitude. The need for embarrassment vanished when humanity perished.

"Y-yes," you confessed with a steady voice, "I want you so desperately."

Z's gaze flicked with satisfaction when he heard your declaration. He leaned down, his rough hands grabbed the sides of your face, and stared deeply into your eyes.

"Yes," he repeated as if he wasn't positive. Z's gaze was an unmoving stare that seemed to reach your very essence, "taste me."

Your cock twitched at the thought. Even though he had been undead for some time, it didn't matter. There was enough booze around to eradicate any undesirable taste.

"Please, let me taste you," you nearly pleaded.

Z sat up a bit, pulling down his pants just far enough for his erection to emerge. He straddled your chest, his balls resting against your chin. Each movement was cautious and meticulous. His fingers intertwined in your hair, holding your head in place.

Z pushed your mouth towards the tip of his cock while using his free hand to keep the shaft pointed at you. You tentatively parted your lips, allowing your tongue to hang out slightly. A droplet of saliva had already formed in anticipation.

Z's grip tightened on the back of your head as he pushed forward, "Yes," he growled, his voice low and crude. "Taste."

His cock was warm and throbbing on your tongue. The precum was strangely sweet despite a salty bitterness. It tasted somewhat pleasing. You groaned around his shaft, enjoying the way it rubbed against your tongue and the back of your throat.

Z pushed forward with a soft grunt. The head finally managed to force its way past any resistance into your esophagus. Your eyes watered. At first, you choked quite violently, but after a few deep breaths, you were able to loosen your throat and let your mind wander. He slowly pushed the rest of the way in, allowing my nose to rest against his pelvis. You gasped a few times. The sensation of your throat wrapping around his shaft prompted him to grind against your face.

Your alcohol-drenched throat felt numb, making it simpler to give in to his will. Even as you felt your oxygen supply deplete, you concentrated on the creature in your mouth with a warm, tender gaze. He didn't move much for a few seconds, allowing your body to adjust to his presence.

The moments felt longer and longer. Your chest started to ache. Your eyes rolled back into your head, and stars danced in your vision. Your body began to tremble and tried to move away on its own, but you fought to remain in place. Z smirked down at you, plainly amused by the display.

Z finally withdrew enough for you to gasp for air, but not enough to remove his penis from your mouth. When your breathing settled down, he thrust back in. You choked hard, edging dangerously close to vomiting, but swallowed a few times to maintain composure. Z chuckled inhumanly. The sound mimicked the noise of rusty machinery. He accelerated, delighting in how you struggled to accommodate him.

As the world around me disappeared, Z's pulsing dick was all I could think about. The way he teased me sent my shaft leaking and throbbing. I reveled in feeling powerless beneath him. He annihilated my fears and unease, replacing them with desperate thrusting.

Z's dick shoved down my throat, causing tears to stream down my face. Not a problem, I enjoyed pleasing him. He was the only thing I cared about. The urge to surrender overwhelmed me.

Z started pounding my throat harder, keeping it fuller for longer stretches, and sloppier with every thrust. I gripped his thighs, begging him to keep going through the euphoria. He groaned loudly as jets of cum sprayed into my throat.

I choked, tears fights to wash my eyes as I attempted to swallow the load. Z didn't care, continuing his assault. I buried my face in his crotch to stop him from pulling out. I would take every inch he had until his nuts were empty. My focus stayed on his face. Drool and cum dripped from my red lips.

Z finished, panting heavily, ignoring my struggles. My vision blurred, yet I craved more. My dick ached as it was tortured by my need for more.

Z's body shook, a destructive bellow echoing in the silence. He grunted loudly as the first stream of spunk erupted into my throat. I grunted back, trying to inhale through my nose, but only uttering a gag.

I wanted to speak, to express my need for more, but failed. My face was covered in his mess. Z's look frightened me momentarily, but interest appeared, "You love it?" He inquired, touching my erection.

I barely nodded, smiling dumbly at his suggestive gesture.

The flavor of his cum lingered on my tongue. Rough fingers stroked my jaw, crossing my chin as his palm closed gently, "So gorgeous."

I moaned, my dick convulsing at the sight of his cum leaking from his body, "Delicious." I breathed.

Z grinned, his eyes filling with a renewed hunger, "Taste all of it," he growled.

Z's body lay limp, breathing heavy and fast. Gathering my strength, I whispered my feelings against his sweaty chest, "Yours."

He chuckled, hugging me tightly, "You belong to me." Was his response.

I closed my eyes, hugging him while my belly warmed. The logic of a reanimated walking corpse made no sense, but Z's ability to give me this comfort did.

He pressed his lips softly against my temple, "You're safe now." He said simply.

I cuddled into him, clinging to the warmth and the feelings of contentment his body provided. His muscles quivered slightly, arousing me again, "I miss it," I whispered.

Z clasped my head, drawing my face upward for a passionate kiss. His imposing grip shocked me. A deep rumble shook his chest.

I closed my eyes, burying my head into his warm embrace. We shared a dreamless sleep. Z promised he'd protect me, and I believed him.

When I awoke, I was still in his arms, and felt safe. Z would be by my side.

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• Sharing Rides: Part 3
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• Maternal Instruction: The Third Edition

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