brookie

"well yeah. i wasn't there." steve said bluntly with his stupid smile, his hands running up and down your spine, finally resting on the curve of your ass.

"gee, i bet that would've changed everything." you say sarcastically, leaning back down to kiss him again. this one was more intense— more needy. mostly from his end.

sreve responded instantly to your kiss, his hands grabbing your hips and pulling you even closer. he could taste the faint trace of alcohol on your tongue, but it only heightened his desire. he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and tangling with yours, desperate to taste more of you. his hips shifted beneath you, seeking friction and contact, aching for more.

he'd been half hard basically from the moment you two kissed. his jeans were chaffing uncomfortably against his cock, and he regret how fucking tight they were now.

you pressed back against him, jeans rubbing against jeans, making a friction that was annoyingly frustrating for both of you.

"fuck— mm— just like that, honey. keep moving just like that. jesus christ." steve panted out, because he was physically unable to shut up. his moans were frequent, soft sounds, almost girl like.

alchohol made you dangerous— to steve. you pulled back slightly, admiring him. his teal sweater was riding up, exposing the hair that trailed down his tummy and disappeared behind the peak of his black boxers. the sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, his hands palming at the sheets of his bed.

and his eyes. they were soft, submissive, hazel eyes blown out so far, they were nearly black. staring at you with nothing but adoration. and probably a lot of lust because he was human after all. three minutes of kissing, and steve was putty.

as you continued shifting your hips, your hand moved to tilt his chin up.

"open." you said.

and steve did immediately, opening his mouth without even questioning it.

you leaned, and spit into his mouth.

his entire body shuddered as you spat into his mouth, the warmth of it hitting his tongue, the unexpected intimacy of the act sending a jolt of arousal straight to his already throbbing cock. you tasted like alchohol and the gatorade he'd forced you to drink earlier.

he swallowed instinctively, his throat working as he processed what you'd just done. his lips remained parted, his breath coming in uneven pants—eyes locked on hers, wide and wrecked.

his hips jerked beneath you, his cock twitching against your clothed pussy, before grabbing her hips and rutting against her one more time, accidentally cumming into his boxers.

"fuck." he rasped, voice cracking as he started tugging your jeans off. "please, sit on my cock."

you probably were so going to hell for this. like, burn in hell, rot in fire, kind of hell.

it felt wrong too. dirty. even if both men were technically your boyfriend, one wasn't in terms of morality.

morality is overrated.

"adri—" you said, looking at your adrian. well, probably. hopefully. honestly, they were fucking identical, even wearing the same suit. "this is, like, alright, right? i don't know. it's a little weird. and i mean, even weird for us, weird."

your adrian smiles and leans to kiss your nose. "are you kidding, baby? this is awesome! fucking my girl right next to an alternate me? i've totally had wet dreams about this!" he's excited, like a little kid, and other adrian has the exact same shit eating grin.

"dude, i've totally had the same wet dream!" other adrian says. "except— well, my version of her doesn't like me at all, but that's alright!"

something about that makes your heart clench a little. of course there was two of her as well, and maybe the version of you from this adrian's realm hated him. you didn't think it was possible to live in a world where you weren't head over heels in love with adrian.

you turn towards your adrian, giving him a knowing look. it was a confirmation that it was okay. he understood as always and nodded.

"adrian." you whispered to other adrian. "you're okay with this too?" a hand reached to gently brush some hair off his forehead, to which he nearly flinched at. the thought made you sad— this adrian was clearly so touch starved, like how yours had been before you started dating.

"yeah, yeah. yes." he breathed out all too quickly. his hand tentatively tucked your hair behind your ear, like he was nervous to actually get to touch you for once. "you're still so pretty."

it was a oddly sweet moment, considering what was happening. your adrian looked at him and smiled all proudly. not an ounce of jealousy. "isn't she? i tell her everyday. the most beautiful girl in the world."

"so beautiful." other adrian agreed. his eyes were slightly sad. almost longing. "sorry. never been this close to you before."

you smile, and shake your head. he sounds exactly like yours.

"other— me... she's missing out. don't take what she feels to heart." you add. you and adrian clicked immediately, same goofy humor, same adoration for each other. it was instantaneous, like both of you just knew. soulmates, as adrian said all the time.

you turn your head over your shoulder. "adri, am i allowed to kiss him?" you ask almost shyly.

your adrian's bites his bottom lip and nods. "by all means, do whatever you want. this might be hotter than the one time you bent me over the kitchen counter and—"

he was cut off by you glaring at him. "adrian!" you scolded.

"you are so fucking lucky." other adrian said with a groan.

you smiled, rolling your eyes, before gently pushing other adrian back against the couch. you lean down to meet him in a kiss.

it's inexperienced and sloppy. just like your adrian (he never really became experienced. it was still a work in progress) but also so eager. you pull away, and his eyes are halflidded with lust and something else. love?

"by the way, i'm like sooooo embarrassed, but i'm totally going to cum before other adrian." adrian two says with a sheepish grin.

"dude, it's no big deal! don't be ashamed, other totally sexy version of me! i cum fast too!"

both of them giggle, which makes you giggle too, and other adrian looks at you like you are bathed in sunlight.

"good lord, this version of her laughs at our jokes?" he asks, and yours eagerly nods.

"yup! amazing isn't it? i just love her so much." he says fondly.

"please let me fuck you. i might actually die, or kill myself, if you don't let me. like, super duper serious here. my dick might break off." other adrian starts pleading, giving you those huge, sad puppy eyes.

you laugh again, and he leans up to start pressing soft kisses anywhere he can reach. your cheeks, your temple, your nose. anywhere until you quit laughing.

"it's not funny. i'm not even being dramatic. i wasn't even this hard when i sat and watched chris that one time."

your broww furrow— he was hard watching chris? you'd have to ask your adrian about that later. maybe, hopefully, yours didn't sit in the cuck chair with chris.

"yeah, okay." you agreed, and your adrian's hands started unbuttoned your jeans while you leaned to kiss the other again.

eager other adrian's tongue slipped into your mouth, doing little to mask his soft whines. your hand slipped to rub over his cock through his suit.

you feel your jeans get tugged over the curve of your ass. your adrian swats at it, making you moan into other adrian's mouth.

"i wanted to prep her first." your adrian says. "but she's so wet! babe, you're totally a perv!"

you want to turn and glare, but other adrian won't stop fucking kissing you. he kisses all eager and nasty.

"oh, and me, let me tell ya, this pussy is fucking heaven. the first time we fucked, i lasted three thrusts!" your adrian says eagerly, like three was a good thing, a gloved middle finger slidding down your clothed slit.

you can feel how soaked you are, your panties clinging to your folds. they're tugged down your thighs suddenly, and adrian spits onto your pussy.

other adrian snaked a hand to your clit, rubbing soft circles. you moan into his mouth, and he suddenly pulls back, kissing and nipping at your neck.

"she likes that." your adrian all but cooed. he helps you position yourself better, so all three of you can fit. "trade places with me. she loooves getting fucked from behind. she's quite slutty!" he says proudly again.

both adrian's quickly swap spots and there's a weird noise of fabric being moved. you realize adrian two is taking of his suit.

you turn to look, and nearly cum right there, untouched.

he's in a white tank top, and for some reason, it does wonders for his biceps. he's slightly shiny from sweating underneath you, and he's panting while eye fucking your bare pussy. his hands move to your ass, spreading them to get a better view of you.

"i'm so sorry, but i only have one time with you." he says, which confuses you, and before you can say anything, he drags his tongue from your clit up through your folds.

your whole body jerks, and without processing, he replaces his tongue with the head of his cock, dragging it though your cunt.

"yeah, holy shit. fuck, holy fucking shit, her pussy, man—" he whines behind you. "if we had more time, i think i'd drown myself in it."

"like a hermit crab with a snorkel." they both say at the exact same time, which honestly, scares you a bit. they have the exact same dumb shit going through their head.

"fuck." adrian two said, voice hoarse while the first inch of him pressed in. a whimper wracked his body at how perfect she felt—warm and tight and so wet, it was coating his thighs.

"that's it. there you go." your adrian says, and through lust blurred eyes, you look at him. you can't tell if he's praising you or the other version himself. it gives other adrian to push in all the way.

"holy hell, i'm going to cum waaay too fast—"

your adrian's cock was straining in his jeans, and he was fucking touching himself. palming himself with stupid groans.

you reach for it, eager to help him just as much, but he smacks away your hand. this wasn't about him— this was about you.

"don't worry about me, baby." he mumbled with a small smile. "focus on him. if i was a better man, i'd just watch. but my dick actually might explode."

your adrian unzips his suit, just enough to show off the slopes of his abs, and pull his cock out. he gave it languid strokes, before spitting on it like he'd did to your pussy earlier. his glasses were slipping slightly down the slope of his nose.

it was stupidly hot. he was getting off to watching himself fuck you.

other adrian hadn't moved yet— (probably trying not to cum too fast and still whining behind you) but he eventually pulled all the way out to thrust back in. he started a steady pace, his hands digging into your hips as he pulled your ass downwards onto his cock.

he seemed to be enchanted by the way your ass bounced against his hips, the sounds so wet and obscene.

both adrian's were moaning, your adrian matching his hand with his clones sloppt thrusts.

"god, i can hear how wet you are. you like being all messy for us?" your adrian asked, to which you nodded your head. other adrian whimpered, like he was enjoying the words too.

"she's so tight. she's squeezing my cock." other adrian mumbled, eyes glued to where his cock disappeared into your slick cunt. you responded by clenching around him, a moan getting cut off.

"fuck, i think she's gonna cum. is that right baby? can see it." your adrian hummed. you nodded. he was freakishly good at knowing exactly when.

"yeah— fuck, yeah, i'm gonna cum! please, adri, don't stop—" you moaned weakly.

other adrian scoffed like that was the craziest thing he'd heard. no way he'd stop now. he reached down to rub at your clit. somehow, his hips became more precise, hitting that spot that made you moan each time.

"coming!" you warned, "adri—!"

other adrian’s head dropped back with a whine as you came.

"jesus— fuck." he gasped against her neck between ragged breaths. "look at you." the words were half reverence, half filthy awe.

you weren’t just coming around him—you were drenching him in it, soaking his cock and thighs like you couldn’t hold back a single drop. and god help him if that wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever felt.

"knew you could take it." your adrian groaned, eyes hazy. "knew my sweet girl had this in her. pervvv!"

other adrian's thrusts turned slower now but somehow deeper— aimed solely at making himself come while you were shaking. stupidly teasing, just like your adrian.

"oh my god. 'm gonna cum. fuck— i can't, 'm gonna pass out. die, actually." adrian two rambles. cute, just like yours. his viice became more strained, less coherent. "please, let me cum inside. need to cum in you."

you look at your boyfriend, who, inbetween soft whimpers, nods.

"cum in her." your adrian encourages. "i'm— shit, gonna cum too. ah, next time we should both fuck her at the same time."

the idea of that makes all three of you moan, although they are a hell of a lot more whiney. and whining at the exact same time.

"yes, fuck, coming!"

"shitshitshitshit."

they both came, your adrian tensing in his palm before spurting on his fist and all over his abs and suit, followed by other adrian filling you up.

they both are panting, and you are too, aching. other adrian pulls out, (before pushing his cum back inside with two fingers) while your adrian leans to kiss your forehead.

there was about four seconds of peace before:

"ha! you came first! i lasted longer!"

"nuh uh, no way, you totally came first, i was watching!"

"well, i was watching you!"

"wait... really? i'm touched."

The silence of the desolate world around him amplified Shane’s solitude.

Ever since the walkers appeared, emptiness had become a companion Shane didn’t remember inviting into his life. The roads were eerily quiet, the air heavy with the faint stench of decay, and only the occasional rustle in the bushes reminded him that danger was always lurking nearby.

Shane had learned one thing the moment the CDC started sending out those first vague warnings about a virus: he was on his own. But being a protector was in his nature. He could thank his years as a sheriff for that. Shane was a lot of things— harsh, abrasive, even violent when the situation called for it— but before all of that, he was a protector. It was a promise he had made to himself, and one he had made to Rick: he would die before he let anything happen to Carl or Lori. So far, he’d kept that promise, even though it had cost him his peace of mind and any chance at sleeping soundly through the night.

A girl wasn’t in his plans. She was this sweet girl, God, far too sweet to be mixed up in this. She couldn’t have been more than a few years younger than him, and she was brilliant, in her own way. She wasn’t dumb by any means. She knew her way around Atlanta, and she was good with things he wasn’t. Emotions mostly. Everyone was treated the same by her. Gently. She was far too skittish, though. Took too long to make decisions that were a matter of living or dying in a world like this. If it was anyone else, Lord only knew how Shane would react.

Shane had this instinct, the same he had with Lori and Carl, towards her.

“Now, listen. No, no, no. Both hands.” Shane spoke, his tone flat and huffed out, like usual. His patience was a flaw of his. Especially with her, because it seemed like he was speaking in tongues anytime he said anything to her. “I don’t care if you see Rick and I shootin’ with one hand. You always use two hands, you hear me, girl? Alright, there ya go.”

Shane had been teaching her how to use different guns for the last hour. She was the only adult of the group who had no training whatsoever, and in Shane’s mind, the most important thing to him was knowing she’d be alright if a Walker came up on her.

“This is a G17.” He tried again, standing behind her as he watched her aim it. He shakes his head when she looks up at him with that deadpan look. “’S’a Pistol. Called G17 because it has seventeen rounds.” He takes out the magazine to show her the small silver bullets. He hands her one to show her how to reload it. She promptly drops it, and he believes this is his punishment for saving her butt instead of letting her get herself killed.

“Good Lord. Have you ever shot a gun in your life?” Shane’s tone is snappy now, talking to her like he would one of the males in the group.

“Why would I? I’m not a sheriff.” The indifference in her voice irks him even more.

“Thank God for that. You’re more likely to hit Daryl in his big ass head than a damn Walker.”

“This is pointless, Shane.”

Shane gets that little scrunch in between his brow, and he’s getting irritated. He takes a step back and runs his hands over his face. “It ain’t pointless. This is meaningful stuff I’m tryin’ to teach you.” He's trying to keep his voice level.

"It's pointless!" She argues.

“Let me tell you somethin’, girl! If you can’t learn how to shoot these geeks in the head, you ain’t makin’ it. That’s just the way it is. You gotta adapt, otherwise you’ll end up just like Ava. You want that? Huh?” Shane’s snapping now, his tone sharp and cutting. That impatient look hardened into a piercing, unforgiving glare.

It nearly broke his heart seeing the way she flinched when he yelled.

Everyone has warned her about Shane. Dale has been relentless with his talks with her, about how he knew men like him back in the war. Angry, aggressive, violent. Those words have been drilled into his head. She’d treated him just the same as everyone else. Like he was human, and not some dog.

Shane wouldn’t hurt her. God, he’d never even think about laying his hands on a girl, especially not her. He’d grown to care for this group of lone wolves, even if he’d never say that out loud. In an ideal world, he’d be able to keep everyone safe. Never did he want to scare you.

“Shit.” He murmured, all the ice leaving his voice immediately. Might have even been soft. “I didn’t mean’ta snap like that. Come on, I’ll show you one more time, then we can head back. Been a long day.”

She nods, although she still seems a little dazed by him yelling at her.

“I don’t wanna die.” She says quietly, aiming the gun back up. Shane set up an empty bean can on a log, and her eyes locked on it. Shane’s head snaps back over to her as she says it. It’s so quiet, he thought he imagined it.

“I know you don’t.” He moved behind her, gently lifting her arms up. His hands are calloused, but his touch is soft. Shane doesn’t need to touch her, but he wants to. It’s his way of apologizing for snapping without needing to say it vocally. “Aim above the target, just a little. Firm grip, like I told ya.”

“I don’t think I really have a choice on whether I’ll live or not.”

“Yeah, well. Tough, girl. You ain’t dyin’ and I ain’t lettin’ you.” He mumbles. His brown eyes aren’t looking at her, but at the target. His face is scrunched, like the thought of her dying made him feel ill. She can see his expression out of the corner of her eye. “Look at the can.”

She steadies the gun on the can. “I don’t get why you’re taking care of me.”

“I’m not takin’ care of you. I’m teachin’ you how to do it yourself.” Shane says.

They’re so far away from the camp and so deep in the woods that even a gunshot wouldn’t alert Walkers, especially not with a pistol this quiet. He made sure to take her far enough away, that way she could get a shot in.

“I don’t wanna learn how to kill.” She murmurs. “More than I don’t wanna die.”

Her finger finally rested against the trigger. And right as she’s about to pull it, Shane does something odd— his hands move to cover her ears. His forehead moves to rest against her hair. She pulls the trigger, and his hands are enough to keep her steady from the recoil and to block out the ringing that follows the bullet. It’s more of a crack than a bang, and it startles her a little. You never really get used to the sound of guns.

His lips press softly against the side of her head, and she realizes then that he wasn’t just touching her to protect her from losing her hearing— he knows this was frightening for her. She didn’t want to learn how to shoot, because she didn’t want to have to kill. And Shane knew this was eventually going to save her from other humans, even if he wasn’t there to protect her. He takes the gun from her shaking hands and puts it back in his holster, but his hands shift right back to cradle the sides of her face.

“You’re good. You’re full of good, that’s why I care. That’s why I’m teachin’ you this. Without good, we’ll all lose reason to keep goin’. You’re— You’re the reason the group keeps goin’.” Shane’s voice is shallow, and he keeps swallowing in between each sentence, because being vulnerable was like swallowing poison to him. “If something were to happen to Carl, or to you, it’d wreck the group.” A pause. “Wreck me.”

They’re both quiet for a moment. She’s not sure how to respond, and if she did, she didn’t want to make his walls come back up. Shane, on the other hand, seems to be grappling with his own thoughts, his head tilted slightly as if weighing the unspoken words lingering between them.

Shane glances at her, his expression softening just a fraction. There’s something in his eyes— gratitude, perhaps, or relief that she didn’t say anything. All she can hear is the chirping of birds, and Shane soft breaths against the side of her head. She peeks past him. There’s a clear hole in the can, where the bullet had passed through. She gently elbows Shane.

“Look at that, Shay!” She exclaims, and she’s beaming. “Fuckin’ bullseye!”

Shane starts laughing, and he’s not sure if it’s because she’s cussing, or because she called him by the same nickname Rick used to. Either way, he’s not as tense. He pulls away from her and pats her on the shoulder.

“That’s my girl! Now we gotta find one of them sonabitches for you to practice on. With a knife, though. I ain’t trust your aim enough to be wastin’ bullets.”

She’s laughing too, and the sound makes Shane a little dizzy. The tension from earlier has faded, but she’s going to remember his words. She’s going to use them as a reminder to stay alive.

“Let’s go back to camp. I’m hungry.” She says after their smiles dim.

“Yeah? Got some yummy frog legs already for ya.” He teases, slinging an arm around her shoulders. He grins at her disgusted noise.

“You are nasty as hell. I ain’t eatin’ that.”

“Guess you’re goin’ hungry then, missy. We’re fresh outta beans.” Shane laughs again as she gently shoves him. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and Glenn’ll be playin’ his guitar tonight.”

“You aren’t gonna have ears after I tell Daryl you called his head big.”

“Yeah, you do that, and you ain’t eatin’ for a month.”

They fake argue the whole way back to camp, their laughter weaving through the trees, a rare sound in the world they now inhabit. By the time they step into the clearing, the familiar sight of the camp greets them like honey. Glenn is strumming his guitar near the fire, just like Shane had hoped for.

Rick is crouched by the fire, his hat pulled low over his face as he pokes at the glowing embers, coaxing the flames higher. Dale is seated nearby, gesturing animatedly as he recounts some story to T-Dog, who nods along with a look that’s part amusement, part confused as hell. Across the way, Carol is tending to some stew, the smell faint but warm, mingling with the wood smoke curling into the night. All four of them are smiling. Even Daryl, who’s using his knife to carve into a stick, seems to be content listening to Dale.