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During his watch, Nick sat at the entrance of the safehouse, cradling his gun and bored out of his mind. Silence reigned all around, broken only by the faint, low gurgling of zombies outside; he sighed and gave the barrel of his weapon a lightly stroke. If not for this goddamn zombie apocalypse, he’d be in Las Vegas right now—or at the very least, Atlantic City—instead of standing guard all alone in this fucking place: Savannah, Georgia.
As these thoughts crossed his mind, his imagination drifted to Las Vegas: winning big at the tables, smiling as he gathered his winnings, and spending the night with a sweet, blonde, blue-eyed beauty in a revealing outfit. At the thought of this, he suddenly realized he was becoming aroused; he glanced out the door and stole a look toward the bedroom where his companions were sleeping—there didn't seem to be any movement.
He quietly shifted over to the nearby sofa; it really wasn't the right time for this, but it had been so long—he simply needed to release the tension, to relieve some stress. Sighing, he undid his belt, pulled his semi-erect penis out of his underwear, and—supporting it with one hand—began to stroke gently, letting his earlier fantasies play out.
The blonde pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed and leaned over to undo his trousers; her hand gently caressed his penis before her full lips parted slightly to envelop the head... For some reason, those lips felt... familiar. In the vividness of his imagination, the mouth and face gradually sharpened into focus—transforming, to his surprise, into the face of Ellis. His grip tightened abruptly, and he couldn't help but shudder.
Why did Ellis cross his mind? True, Ellis had full lips—he had noticed that the moment they first met—but was that the reason he was conjuring him up in his fantasies? He tried to return to the image he had originally been imagining—a shapely blonde—but found, to his frustration, that he simply couldn't get back into the mood; he let out a low, frustrated growl, closed his eyes, and continued to stroke his penis at a steady pace.
Ellis’s calloused hands gripped his inner thighs as his head bobbed up and down between his legs; the mechanic was still wearing his blue baseball cap, obscuring his face, yet he could feel those full lips kissing his cock—a thick tongue sliding down its length and slowly back up, a hot, wet mouth enveloping him. He braced his hands against the mechanic’s sturdy shoulders, his fingernails digging into the tight yellow T-shirt as he panted softly. Then, a warm, thick finger pressed gently against his entrance and slowly slid inside, followed by another; the two fingers curled upward to tease his prostate, while the mouth enclosing his cock tightened slightly, sucking rhythmically as the tongue swirled around his sensitive glans. He arched his back sharply, trembling and gasping, "Yeah... right there... El... Ellis..."
His hand was stroking rapidly at his crotch while the other—having slipped inside his half-unbuttoned shirt at some point—gently kneaded his nipple; he panted, moaned, and called out Ellis’s name, choking back a sound as he finally climaxed.
He gasped for breath, his vision slightly blurred and his mind not yet fully clear, trembling faintly in the afterglow of the orgasm. Then, realizing his semen had splattered onto his blue shirt, he cursed under his breath—and cursed himself even more for having fantasized about that hick while he jerked off. He got up to find some tissues to clean up the mess.
Meanwhile, Ellis woke up needing to use the bathroom; upon getting up, he stumbled upon Nick masturbating. He hadn't intended to intrude and felt a bit awkward witnessing a teammate in such a private act. He meant to slip away quickly and go back to sleep, but hearing Nick moan his name made him freeze—his face flushing crimson as he realized he was becoming aroused himself. Afraid to disturb Nick, he hurried back to his own room to take care of things on his own.
Perhaps this chance, unspoken encounter would lead them to eventually open up to each other one day.