Authors: K.A. Merikan
He pushed the door off himself, and looked up at Ira with freight. Suddenly he saw movement behind him. “There’s one more!” he shrieked, pointing behind the massive oak desk. Ira blinked, and in an instant, a disgusting, large undead launched itself at him, forcing the man onto the desk. Its half rotten face gaping, dripping saliva on Ira’s leather jacket. Screaming in fear, he opened his eyes and grabbed the monster’s throat, saving himself from its bite in the last moment. James was frozen in place, watching with horror as the monster climbed on top of the large man so forcefully, the desk tipped slightly unloading a clutter of drawers. Some of his possessions fell to the ground in a loud crash. The hired treasure hunter sensed his chance and brutally jabbed the zombie in the eye socket with a loud scream. The creature breathed quietly before falling on top of him and finally slipping to the floor.
James heard Ira mumble something as he climbed down from the desk on its other side. “Are they all gone?” asked the aristocrat quietly, as yet not having the strength to get up from the floor. Ira did not answer, visibly contemplating something he saw beneath his feet. Finally, he bent down and returned holding a piece of paper in his hand. His dark eyes focused on it with stunned interest.
James sat on the floor, in shock, slowly realizing what it was that had fallen out of the drawers. A deep shame crept over him as Ira turned the page in his direction with a slight pout. At this particular moment, he regretted coming here to retrieve the drawings, but it was stronger than him. It’d been a deep urge of dissatisfaction, as if something was missing from his life without those images. He felt a blush crawl onto his face slowly. His embarrassment strengthened when Ira did not even say a word, just looking in his direction with a blank expression. What could he possibly think of him right now?
“I...,” James bit his lip, “I have no idea where that came from...” he said, though he knew it sounded incredibly false. He was too dumbstruck to think of anything else. How could he explain those explicit pictures?! And that looking at them, made him feel hot and ready even now. What was still more humiliating, Ira simply put the drawing on his desk, shooting him a knowing look.
“It’s none of my business,” he stated, even though his eyes darted lower, avoiding meeting James’ gaze.
James however, didn’t feel like he had any dignity to save. If he had come so far and reached his office, he would not leave without the pages. He couldn't take all of them unfortunately, so quickly and quite desperately, he rummaged through them, to pick his favorites. Oh how he missed being able to look at the hot, steamy, immoral things those men were doing with each other. In an imaginary world of erotic fantasy, it was all possible. Maybe it couldn't be something he would 'do', but at least he could look. That wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?
“That worth a lot to you?” he heard from above. Ira’s boots were just a few inches away from him, covered in dirt and zombie blood. The man seemed strangely calm about this. The money he was promised must have lessened his discomfort. When James managed to look up, the treasure hunter was preparing his pipe.
“It’s for this particular research I do...” muttered James, trying to make up a story about this whole thing, as fast as possible. Though he did consider paying Ira a little more, to avoid potential blackmailing. And the man in front of him was so intimidating in a way: with his confident stance and the way he could go about killing so many undead.
“Well, I imagine it must be very tedious?” said Ira, with a trace of humor in his tone.
“Y... yes,” James stuttered a bit, feeling the mockery in his voice, but going forward with his obvious, big, fat lie. It was strange how little it bothered him how much Ira saw, now that he knew anyway. “A man needs a lot of good morality in him, to deal with this kind of obscenity.”
Ira sighed, lighting his pipe and breathing in the sweet smoke of tobacco. “True, true. One could hardly believe what some chaps daydream about when closing their mouths around the bit of a pipe.”
At these words, James’ imagination ran wild, especially as he was kneeling in front of the man. “Yes...” he said finally, thinking of his own devious mind. “Men cannot be trusted.” He continued sorting through the drawings. It was hard to decide on some of them, but he knew the decision had to be swift. The ones he wanted, ended up in a sturdy suitcase with a lock.
Ira let out a short laugh before gazing at a large window. The room’s walls were covered with bookshelves and thick wooden panels in the same color, making it seem smaller and cozier than it was. Some family portraits and a sculpture of Apollo on a small, round table in the corner were the primary decorations. Of course, the servants had probably taken some of James' possessions as he could not locate them.
“That’s true,” said Ira, relaxing by the window. He took a few steps towards it, looking out and cursed quietly. “There are more of’em.”
“Fuck,” said James bluntly and instantly felt guilty that changing the subject, even to one as horrible as the undead, relieved him. He locked the suitcase once he packed the drawings into it and adjusted a special strap, so that he could have it hanging across his body. He still felt a blush on his cheeks, but looked out the window to see what Ira was talking about. He was telling the truth. A group of zombies was moving through the overgrown lawn at the back of the mansion. If that were not worrisome enough, the main door to the room started squeaking loudly, as if pushed from the other side. They immediately looked back at it and saw the two doors repeatedly bending slightly in the middle. A faint sound of growling was audible behind them.
Ira sighed, looking him straight in the eyes. “There was a ladder to the roof somewhere here on the blueprint,” he began thoughtfully. He must had been in such situations numerous times before to keep this kind of calm, “Was it in this room or the one with no door?” he asked, showing the no-longer-secret door with his pipe.
James breathed heavily, trying to control his nervousness, but each violent sound ruined his composure. “It is this window actually” he said, moving to open it. Surprisingly, the glass was still intact. Ira shoved him aside, kneeling on the windowpane and looking outside, where the metal ladder was. Back in the day, it was used by chimney-sweepers, but now it could serve a much more important purpose. Ira leaned over, grabbing it and pulling vigorously, probably to test if the ladder was still reliable and solid enough to support a grown man. He turned to look at James. “You go first. I'll catch ya case somethin’ 'appens,” he promised, his dark eyes very serious.
“Do you want me to go towards the barn?” James asked, slowly stepping out onto the ledge of the window. His legs felt weak as he looked down, registering both the height and the more dreadful consequence of a potential fall: the hungry undead. The barn was where his father hid a massive part of his mother's jewelry. It was the best they could think of in the havoc of everyone running for their lives.
“Just wait for me in a safe spot,” answered Ira hurriedly, grabbing his wrist for support, “Don't fall.”
James nodded and went for it. For a split second, he was sure the ladder would fall and bring him to his death. As nothing like this happened, he composed himself and started climbing up the ladder, trying not to look down at the zombies, heading for the building. The only good thing was the weather: sunny and warm, as if it were a regular, lovely summer in the countryside. Fortunately, there were metal rungs for climbing to the top of the triangular roof. He sighed, feeling at least a portion of his fears diminishing as he looked around at the thick forests and lake he used to swim in as a little boy. In front of him, about 70 feet away he saw the roof of the stables.
He looked down to make sure Ira was following him. He just hoped the topic of the drawings would never come up again. He felt a surge of relief at the sight of the other man climbing over the edge of the roof in swift movements.
“Go towards the stable” he commanded, quickly reaching the top of the roof and straddling it for support. James’ creamy shirt was creased and dirty and he knew he looked tired, but he still managed a gentle smile at Ira. He could feel they were closer to reaching their goal. Even if the zombies entered the building now, it would be for the better as they were heading for the barn and stable buildings anyway. Carefully, he moved along the rooftop, trying not to injure his hands or rip the pants on the metal sheets that covered the surface. Finally, he reached the edge and stopped, swallowing slightly.
“Don’t move,” Ira warned him and moved to put both of his legs on one side. Without a word, he lowered himself along the descending surface and slowly reached one leg over to a chimney. It was frightening to watch, but he managed to safely squat on the flat place beneath it. The man sighed, looking up at James with a sly smile. “Weird feeling, that ‘ard bulge between ya thighs, eh?”
James’ lips parted as he didn’t know what to say for a moment, but he didn’t move either, just sitting there on the top of the roof looking downwards. He wasn’t sure if he could be as dexterous as Ira. “It’s not funny,” he muttered in the end, flatly.
“Did I say it was?” asked the other man fishing a thick rope out of the harness he wore. He encircled the chimney three times before starting to form a knot. “Why, would you prefer something else?”
James simply stared at him, not knowing if he should feel offended or... what was Ira implying actually? “No, the rooftop is fine...” he said in the end, knowing it was stupid by the time he finished saying it.
Ira’s face lit up in an amused smile and he shook his head. “You still need to let it go,” he said, sitting on the edge of the flat place around the chimney, and placing his feet on the descending plates between him and James. “Now slide down. I’ll catch you.”
James took a deep breath, feeling strange goosebumps, but hearing the growling noises from the windows helped him make up his mind. He did exactly as Ira told him, hoping for the best. The other man spread his muscled arms broadly and leaned forward, following his every move with dark eyes. James grabbed at his hands desperately as soon as he was close enough to do so. He felt a pair of strong arms over his ribcage, securing him in place. Ira looked straight into his eyes, now exceptionally close, their legs touching. A wave of heat flew through James’ body.
“Thank you,” he muttered finally, not moving an inch. He felt embarrassed by the improper thoughts that filled his mind when he was so close to the former sailor. The man sighed, stroking one of his arms lightly.
“When you were researchin' those perverted pages,” he murmured, leaning even closer to James, “did it ever make you wonder ‘ow it would feel?” His voice sounded as calm and gentle as the soft afternoon sun James felt on his cheek.
“No!” he said instantly, though didn’t move away. This man was really something else. “I mean... I can see why you would be mocking my choice of study.”
“That’ no mocking,” Ira protested immediately, “Just think it weird that you watch all these chaps stuffing their cocks up other chaps’ holes and you never even kissed one,” he said, his gaze never faltering.
“I don’t think you should worry about those things... ‘chaps’ cocks and that...” James laughed, a bit nervously. The zombies in the building behind them had suddenly become less important.
“I’m not worried! I am interested!” laughed Ira, running his thick fingers along the other man’s thighs. “And you forgot ‘holes’,” he added attentively.
James swallowed, looking down at the man's hands, in shock. He had no idea where this was going. He had some knowledge from research and stories of men's sexual activities. Apparently some men didn’t really care whose ‘hole’ they used, as long as they didn’t get caught. Others were curious, so maybe that was the case with Ira, who started making titillating remarks since he found out he might be dealing with a homosexual. James didn't really know how he felt about this idea, but he would be lying to himself if he pretended it didn't excite him. Even though the thought entertained him for a while, James knew he couldn't just give into a temptation like this. After all, he had a wife, a son, a 'proper' life. Looking never hurt anyone, but acting on those urges?
“‘Holes,” was the only thing he muttered after a long silence.
Ira licked his lips slowly, lowering his gaze to James’ mouth. His breath felt hot on the other man’s cheek. “I like it more when you say ‘cock’.”
“You do...?” James’ breath became sharp and fast, but he couldn’t force himself to look up.
“Yea,” breathed Ira, slowly tracing the other man’s Adam’s apple with rough fingertips, “I go crazy when boys that pretty say ‘cock,” he breathed a bit shakily.
James finally lifted his gaze, shivering from Ira’s tone of voice. “You like hearing about that?” he whispered, feeling that his face must be as red as a poppy. “About cock?”
It was still only words. Just a bit of banter never hurt anyone, even though James felt his heart pounding like crazy. The whole situation felt surreal. They were sort of sitting by a chimney, in the middle of a zombie infested area and... flirting? Was that the right term for something as obscene? He never heard women other than harlots 'flirt' like that.
“I like hearing about my cock in a hot, tight hole,” Ira breathed, pressing his thumb to the other man’s lips. His eyelids were slightly lowered, giving a sensuous quality to his rugged look.
James needed to pull away a bit, though it wasn’t easy in the position they were in. He felt his own body getting hotter from hearing the other man’s words and didn’t want him to see that. Especially since the touching was getting a bit too intense for his sense of morality. “And I presume you hear about that a lot?” he whispered.