Stung (Zombie Gentlemen) by K.A. Merikan Page A

day.”
    Victor nodded at his coworkers, his legs already
carrying him towards Crunch on their own accord. He quickly brushed his dry,
chafed hands over his trousers and reached up to make his hair at least
somewhat presentable. With Crunch, he could escape the camp, even if just for a
moment.
    The man gently pushed Victor forward and nodded at
the other guards. They must have arranged this — whatever
‘this’ was — before. After
spending a few hours in the shadow, the sun was Victor's enemy, and he squeezed
his eyes shut, letting Crunch lead him forward. He wanted a bath so much it
hurt, especially that Crunch prettied himself up once more. At least he wasn’t
sweaty.
    “I got it covered. Ya got some time with me now.”
Crunch smiled at him, as if he hadn't stood him up yesterday.
    Victor looked up at him, feeling his heart beat
faster. Did Crunch have the ring on him? “Why didn’t you come yesterday? I was
waiting...” He trailed off, biting his lip, embarrassed by how needy it
sounded. He looked to the grass beneath his feet and cringed when they came
closer to the dome. The buzzing awoke a tremor on his skin.
    “I know. Couldn’t make it. Sharpe had ‘is eye on
me.” Crunch sighed as they were making their way back to the orchards,
descending down the hill. Victor wanted to touch him, but noticed a group of
figures in black just in time to let go of this silly idea.
    Led by a guard were people who looked like
mourners, in trousers gathered at the ankle and thick gloves. They all wore
hats with wide brims, covered with a thick, black veil tucked into their
collars, creating a bubble of air around their heads. Their appearance was so
shocking, Victor needed a moment to realize they were most probably working
with the bees. He shuddered and returned his attention to Crunch.
    “Sharpe? Iron Teeth?” That was the nickname the
prisoners used, referring to the metalwork in the man's mouth.
    “Yeah, keep away from ‘im.”
    It was frustrating advice. All he was hearing from
Crunch all the time was to keep away from everything and everyone.
    “But... I can’t just hide in a hole forever. I’m
going to be here for a long, long time.” Victor swallowed around the lie as it
rolled off his tongue. He wanted to know Crunch’s intentions.
    Crunch sighed and pushed his hands into the
pockets of his trousers.. “Ya have to blend in. I know it’s ‘ard,” he added
after a pause, looking back at Victor with a smirk.
    “But then, my life’ll just go by until I’m too
tired to work. What then?” Victor insisted, locking their eyes. He hardly
resisted grabbing the guard’s forearm, but ended up clenching his fingers on
his own wrist.
    Crunch sighed and went silent as they left the
path and walked between the apple trees. There was no more fruit to gather
here, so they walked deeper, watching the cool autumn sun caress the withering
leaves.
    “I’ll take care of ya, yeah?” Crunch mumbled in
the end.
    “How?” Victor dared to slide his palm into
Crunch’s trouser pocket and touch the man’s hand. It was rough, meaty, and
strong. He leaned into Crunch’s side, satisfied when he noticed the big lump of
a man gasp.
    “Good. I’ll take care of ya good ,” Crunch
rasped into his ear, and squeezed his hand. Hot breath curled around Victor’s
ear, making him squirm with arousal.
    “You couldn’t meet me because of Iron Teeth.” He
nuzzled his face into Crunch’s arm, burying his nose in the leather. “And I
don’t just want to survive. I need my life back.”
    “I’m not afraid of ‘Iron Teeth’. I don’t want ‘is
attention on ya.”
    “If I were a woman, you could just tell the other
guards you want me protected, but like this? I am only safe as long as you're
around.” He squeezed Crunch’s hand.
    “Don’t push it too ‘ard. You’re getting better
jobs but it’s not gonna ‘appen overnight.”
    Victor sighed, pressing even closer into Crunch
and letting his head rest on the other