Beauty

David Kennison was a man of few words. It had always been that way, since the moment we found him huddled in that abandoned jeep, smeared with days of dirt and gore. Nobody ever held it against him, though. Not for the three months we operated as a unit in the violent wasteland our city had become.

Shelby, Ryan and Ruth were out getting supplies. They left the rest of us in the library basement that had become our refuge. Our new home. We didn't see much daylight, but at least we were secure. They couldn't get in. And there was a lot of reading material.

From the corner of my eye, I caught just a hint of Kennison's lanky figure rising from his post at the corner of the bookshelf adjacent to mine. As he started to skulk off, I frowned slightly. He was even more quiet than usual. In fact, he hadn't said a single word in the past few days. Not even to me, before or after he drove a lamp through the skull of a walker that latched onto my leg.

The library was the safest place we could be. But no place was safe. The walkers could find their way into the most unexpected places, and it seemed that the longer we survived, the more tired we grew, the more they re-developed their human wits. The idea of anyone going off anywhere by themselves didn't sit well with me. Especially not him. Not after what he'd just done for me.

So, I followed him, which probably wasn't the smartest decision in retrospect. I had no weapon. My recent brush with death hadn't made me any more cautious. My survival was a sheer piss at Darwinism. Regardless, I felt I owed my concern to the quiet Englishman who saved my life. At the very least.

I found Kennison over in the archives, sitting with his knees to his chest. His back was turned to me, his shoulders slumped. As I approached, the floorboards creaked beneath me, causing him to jump as he turned to face me, expecting to find something undead behind him. I instantly regretted my thoughtlessness when I saw the tears that shone in his dark eyes, and the way his face flushed upon noting my noticing them.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, as he whipped back around to brush the wetness from his face, "I just didn't want you off by yourself..."

He nodded briskly, without a word.

I pressed, "Are... you okay?"

"I'm fine."

His lightly accented voice was low, raspy and curt. I hated the embarrassed, intrusive feeling that started to wash over me. Unable to stand it any longer, I turned around to head back toward the rest of the group when I heard words so soft that I wasn't sure I'd heard them at all.

"Hmm?" I asked, slowly turning back on my heel.

"I said... My parents. It's their anniversary."

Lost for words, I simply blinked at the back of his dark, disheveled hair. In fact, I was surprised when he continued.

"We were supposed to be taking them out, my little sister and me. To this Italian restaurant they love in Brighton. With a view of the sea..."

I cleared my throat, stepping closer.

"I'm sorry..."

It was all I could think of. Kennison looked up at me with such suddenness that it took the breath from me.

"We all are. I mean, we've all lost people, right?"

I didn't want to think about it. I didn't know where most of my friends and family were, and I didn't know for sure that they were dead. I refused to settle on it one way or another. It was easier that way. But still, I nodded.

"Yeah... We have."

With something like a laugh, but far too melancholy to really be, Kennison shook his head, "And I'm the only one weeping like a child."

At this I dropped to my knees beside him.

"No, that's nothing to be ashamed of. I don't think anyone can blame you for crying."

I put my hand on his forearm, and it was the first time I could remember us ever touching on purpose. I was unsure if I'd crossed a boundary, and I think he was to, from the way he looked at me. But his eyes softened. They were high-set and slanted in his slender face. And nearly black. They were striking.

He was striking, honestly. And I could understand why I hadn't noticed before, but when it hit me, it really did. And I sort of just stared. His features said about twenty-seven, but everything else about him was much older. Worn through. We all were, but for someone as beautiful as him, the lightlessness felt like a particular shame.

"Ke—David..."

I was so unused to calling him that. There was another David in our group, a middle-aged man, who was there before either of us. But it didn't feel right to refer to him by his last name at that moment. It was far too cold.

"Yeah, Jackie?"

That was the first time I'd heard him speak my name. It sounded...nice.

"Thank you. For the other day. For...saving my life."

Those words felt strange coming out of my mouth. Like something people say in movies but never in real life. But what was our situation if not some horrible, nightmarish movie come to life?

He shrugged, wetting his lips.

"That's why we're in a pack. You'd have done the same."

"Well, I would have tried," I followed with an awkward laugh.

He was kind enough to smile despite the lack of humor in the situation.

"Either way," I continued, "Thank you."

My hand found his with a light squeeze. His fingers were so cold against mine. Then again, I ran a bit warmer than most people. I hadn't expected David Kennison to squeeze back, but when he did, I couldn't help but smile.

"I almost forgot what it's like..." he commented wistfully.

I frowned, "What what's like?"

His eyes flicked up at me from beneath his dark lashes. His gaze locked with mine.

"Softness..." he trailed, his thumb tracing the back of my hand, "Beauty."

I never considered myself beautiful. My cushiony body, dusky skin and untamable mass of hair were sources of self-consciousness in simpler times. Strangely enough, for the first time since the outbreak, I felt hyper-aware of them again. But his earnest eyes held almost frightening sincerity.

His hand started to travel up my arm, creating a tingle at the points of contact that would spread over the entirety of my skin. I couldn't remember when our faces had gotten so close by the time his cool fingertips slid across the base of my neck.

He kissed me. It was a desperate kiss, one that screamed out in pain. His arms enveloped me and squeezed me in a way that suggested that letting go would mean losing something inside himself—something he desperately hoped to cling to. So, he didn't let go. He only held me tighter, and kissed me harder until I kissed him back and my arms locked around his shoulders.

We kissed until the air left our lungs, sucked back and forth between the two of us until nothing was left. His face rested in the crook of my neck as we caught our breath, his stubble causing a slight tickle against my skin. Even while panting for breath, he didn't let me go. I was his lifeline.

I was his chance to feel.

Graceless, we fumbled to the ground, David on top. My limbs tangled around his body in a way that suggested my inexperience and confusion. I'd never been in this position sober, and my limited encounters with men were just a hazy memory, strained through months of basic survival.

When his lips met mine again, a certain tenderness crept in that hadn't been there before. He placed a hand, large and cold even through my denim, at swell of my hip.

David whispered, "Do you need this, too?"

"I...I think so."

I felt his lips latch onto my pulse point as his hips ground into mine slowly. The tingle between my thighs spread to a full-on throb, and I sucked in air through my teeth. Tiny grunts escaped him as our bodies rocked slowly into each other's. My eyes fluttered closed in a haze of sensation. Part of me thought I could be dreaming. I didn't mind either way.

With very little warning, the hand at my hip wriggled beneath the waistband of my pants and panties, still cool to the touch, but not quite cold. His fingers were agile, making quick work of slipping past my protruding belly and to the heat of my sex. My hips bucked as his fingers plunged into the slick wetness between my puffy lips.

"Fuck!" I gasped softly, his tongue now sliding across my throat as his fingertips flicked at my aching clit.

Desperate to give him full access to me, I unfastened my pants and worked them down as quickly as I could. David was already busy yanking at my shirt. His teeth nipped at the skin my bra still left exposed. He sucked indiscriminant patterns across my breasts before he yanked the garment down to expose my nipples. They hardened against the cool, damp air, and stiffened to pert little buds between his teeth.

I groaned as his he squeezed my flesh with his free hand, the other one hard at work pumping in and out of my tight hole. I could feel myself turning into a slippery mess as his thrusting fingers coaxed more and more juice out of me. The moans he released against my breasts only pushed me closer. Until my hips rocked furiously up and down, and my eyes rolled back into my head.

I shook against him, walls clenching his fingers for dear life as the shock waves ran through me. My nails clawed at him through his t-shirt as the spasms ran through me. Until I lie still and dazed.

His lips trailed little pecks down my soft torso. David's hot breath rustled through the curly little hairs that covered my mound and lips. I thought I might have heard him inhale—me. My scent. He let out a low groan as his lips traced the ones between my thighs, coating his mouth with my juices.

The tip of his tongue snaked out against my slit, slowly collecting the drops of me that lingered there. My taste must have pleased him, I gathered from the grunt of approval he made. He continued to lick me, holding my thighs far apart. The slurping and lapping noises his lips and tongue made were almost vulgar, but it only made me roll my hips against his face even more.

My fingers tangled in his hair, nails running against his scalp. His lips captured my clit and held it there until my body shuddered violently, not quite at orgasm, but just a breath away. As soon as I thought I would arrive, he pulled away to nibble and suck my labia.

"I want you to cum with me inside you," he explained with his mouth to my inner thigh.

David crawled up my body, and I tasted myself in his mouth. I could hear the clinking and rustling of his belt as his tongue rolled around mine. Months prior, this would be the part where I'd stop and tell my partner than I'm "waiting" but I'll gladly reciprocate, only to go home later and finish the act with a rubber substitute. But what was there to wait for? There would be no love of my life. There would be no kisses in the rain. No snuggles and cute proposals. There would only be me and David Kennison, naked and frantic on the old carpet in the archives.

I spread my legs for him as he ran his tip along my slit, gathering my moisture. He slid inside me gently. It was nothing like the artificial affection I was used to from the secret I used to keep in my bedside drawer. I could feel him moving inside me, twitching, throbbing.

David moaned my name, "Jackie..." the way a real lover might.

I liked having him inside me, moving in and out, slow and deep. I could almost feel the struggle in his muscles—like he wanted to pound me into the floor but relied on sheer power of will and self-restraint to allow himself to savor it. He was savoring my body. The thought alone was enough to make me clench tighter around him. David released a hiss in my ear.

"Do you like how I feel inside you?"

"God, yes..."

His hips moved harder, faster, deeper, building rhythm and pace.

"I could fuck your sweet little pussy forever."

That was I all I wanted him to do as I clung to him, biting my lip to hold in my whimpers and squeals. Our mouths crashed together once more. I could feel David's body tighten and shiver.

"I'm so close. Come on, love. Cum for me," he urged as he pumped harder, causing the contact of our flesh to create a slapping sound.

His hand shot between my legs, pinching and rolling my clitoris between his fingers. Again, I released until I saw stars behind my eyelids. Before I could even stop shaking, David pulled out of me, leaving a stream of warmth trailing down my thigh.

He collapsed on top of me while he found his breath. After a moment, he rolled off and I sat up to collect myself in the awkward silence. I didn't know what I had expected from this. To be his "girlfriend?" Whatever that meant at a time like this. David and I re-adjusted our clothes without a word or even so much as a glance at one another. But it was I who could no longer bear the silence.

"I think they're probably wondering where we are..." I mumbled as I stood, wondering if the other would be able to smell it on us or something.

Without another word, I started off toward the door, but David's hand gripped my wrist, holding me back. I turned to him with a blank expression, unwilling to convey my confusion at the entire situation. He met my eyes with an expression equally as blank and took one step toward me. David's hand slid from my wrist to lock with my fingers. I just stared down at them... My small, brown hand nearly disappeared in his.

And we slipped through the door, together.