I never care about my own passion.
I only ever care about his.
He deserves to feel loved and catered to, and if this is all I can do for him, then I do it gladly.
His groans turn into grunts as his movements become more unhinged. I open my eyes again and look up into my brother's lust-glazed eyes.
“Come inside of me, Tieran,” I moan as I dig my nails into the flesh of his arm.
He lets go of my ankle and moves to hover over me. I look up into his eyes as he fucks me harder and faster, his mouth slightly agape until he presses his forehead tightly against me and a warm rush fills my cunt.
“I love you, Hens,” he whispers, pressing his lips to mine.
Wrapping my arms around my brother, I hold him close, letting him lie on me with his cock still inside of me.
“I love you, too,” I say as I run my fingernails up and down his back.
I can feel his lips form a smile against one of my tits, and I glance toward the window again.
A lone cockroach scurries across the pane, unbothered by the threat outside. I smile as it moves quickly toward the ceiling and then disappears into a crack in the wall.
And it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than death to tear us apart.
CHAPTER7
TIERAN
Waking up in a knot of arms and legs, I notice how quiet it is. That means the storm has passed us by. This is the best time for us to move on.
"Hensley, wake up." I shake her to get her to move.
She rolls over. "What is it? Is someone raiding us?"
I try to dress and talk at the same time, which only lends to make me fall on my ass by her, "No. This is the perfect time to leave. The old, infected ones will be hiding, and the newly infected will be still in the throes of turning."
She sits up, realizing I’m right. We get dressed quickly and put our protective face covers on, those being the bandeau bandanas we picked up from looting a Sporting Goods store. They are perfect for breathing through but also keep any residual particles from hitting our face. Our cargo pants have a lot of pockets to carry knives or small metal pieces we can use as weapons. We both have modified baseball bats with nails, pieces of razors, and broken glass. We slide those in our holsters around our waists. With the hoodies on and our plastic goggles, we are good to go.
I throw her a bottle of juice, which earns me a glare. "You had this and made me drink from the tap last night?"
I shrug. "I knew you would need it this morning. Let's go." I swerve to miss the jab she tries to throw my way. We hoist our meager belongings on our shoulders and begin our journey one step closer to the egg donor.
Out on the landing, I notice the old man's door is open. I put a finger up to tell her to wait by the wall. The scene I walk into makes me worry.
When I get back out to her, I see the apprehensive look on her face. "We need to go." She tries to shove her way into the room. "Hensley," I hiss. "C'mon, he is gone."
Her eyes are big and round. I feel awful like it's my fault. "You mean he's dead?" I see the trickle of one lone tear.
I want to kick my own ass. "No. I mean he is literally gone. His stuff is all gone as well. I'm guessing he packed and left before us."
She sniffs. "He didn't say goodbye."
"I'm sure he wanted to, but maybe he didn't have time. You know he really liked you, Hens."
She nodded, sniffed one more time, then we proceed down the outdoor corridor and head for the stairs.
Walking down the staircase and getting a better glimpse of the parking lot, we can better see the desolation. A ghost town. That’s why I want to leave so early. As few distractions as we can get. Every store, building, or home is dark. The stores that had made it through the first couple of waves are now decimated.
We stop by the pharmacy to scavenge anything useful. It was open yesterday to the public.