-Surprise Pt 1

Hanna wasn't tired after work. He was wired up and excited, in more ways than one. He'd had plenty of fantasies about what his "punishment" would be, but he was certain the ropes and paddles wouldn't be there. The images were though, sparking up that old heat and guilt, like always. He felt nervous, skin writhing with anticipation. He was also embarrassed to find himself half-hard before he even reached the door to his apartment. What was he, a hormone-ridden, pockmarked teenager, scandalously meeting up with his boyfriend while their parents were away for the weekend?

"I missed out on all that shit," he pouted to himself. "Just making up for it now, that's cool."

When he got home, the lights were all out inside. His brow furrowed as he frowned at the window.

"Cuchulain?" he called tentatively as he pushed the door open. "Why's it so dark in here, man? Are you even home?"

Hanna stepped inside and closed the door, fumbling for the light switch. He only saw a split-second flash of orange before he felt hands covering his mouth and eyes, stifling his startled shout. His heart beat against his ribcage furiously, breath quickening through his nose. The hand over his eyes pulled him back against a hard chest as the one over his mouth moved to loop around his middle, allowing him a confused gasp.

"Welcome home, Hanna."

Cuchulain's voice against his ear was low and smooth, sending shivers through Hanna's body. The hand around his waist moved again, gliding over his stomach and under his shirt.

"Uh, hey, wait a minute, is this...what are...o-oh, shit..."

"What's wrong, Hanna? Aren't you ready for your punishment?"

He punctuated the question with lips to Hanna's neck, then teeth and tongue, sucking until he was sure to be bruised. Hanna could only moan and wriggle in his grasp, trying to keep his hips from bucking into nothing while the hand under his shirt strayed over his scar tissue.

"Eblis...oh god, that's...please, I'm totally ready, please, keep going..."

"It's not much of a punishment if you're so eager for it," Eblis whispered, then stopped his affections to Hanna's chest and neck.

The detective was about to object before he felt himself hoisted over the tall corpse's shoulder, slung like a flailing rucksack. He couldn't repress his excited giggle as he felt the blood in his body rushing confusedly from his face to his groin, relishing in the tingles and the strong hands supporting him. He realized all of a sudden that his companion wasn't wearing gloves. He'd never seen the man without gloves, and it excited him even more.

"Guess I'm a masochist," Hanna mumbled into his back. "Or you just suck at discipline."

Eblis bent slightly and tossed Hanna onto his mattress, pinning him there with a low chuckle. "You know," he murmured. "If I really wanted to punish you, I'd just leave you here. How's that for discipline?"

Hanna whined, grabbing at Eblis' collar. That was most certainly the best idea for a punishment, but otherwise, it was the worst idea ever. "Please, please no, c'mon, you don't wanna do that, right?"

"Oh? Who says I don't? I'm supposed to be teaching you a lesson."

"You want me," Hanna breathed, craning his neck up to press tentative, almost uncertain kisses to the zombie's jaw. "Don't you?"

Eblis intercepted a few of those kisses with his own lips, another rumble of laughter escaping his throat. "I do want you, Hanna. The problem here is that you want me."

"That's a problem?" Hanna smirked at him, his head falling back into the pillow, barely acknowledging the swell of relief in his chest.

The zombie leaned in close to attack his neck once more, pulling squeals and laughter from him. "You're so spoiled."

"You love me."

"Yes, I do."

Eblis chose that moment bring their lips together, kissing Hanna like it was their last night on earth. There was a long period of simplistic and nearly animal fervency in them; nothing but lips and tongues and bites, bodies grinding against one another until Hanna was nearly in tears over the sensations. They'd kissed and cuddled before, sometimes so tight and close they may as well have been sharing skin, but never like this. Never such carnal desperation. The zombie was holding him down and ravishing him. Hanna would never have believed he could be wanted as much as he wanted someone else, but it was hard to retain that low self-esteem when there was harsh suction on his lower lip and insistent hands shoving his tee up to his collarbones.

Green lips moved back to his neck, for a moment, then to his chest. Eblis left a tingling trail of bruises and lovebites all over Hanna's torso, careful to avoid sucking too hard around the scars and staples. The redhead didn't even have time to feel self-conscious about them. Hanna yelped and hissed as teeth clamped over one of his nipples, tugging gently. His knees were drawn up and his toes curled as he buried his hands into fine, black hair.

"God fucking dammit that's...shit, do that some more, it's so fucking good..." Hanna babbled. His fingers shook as the teeth closed on his flesh once more, tongue flicking at the captured skin between them.

The redhead barely noticed when his pants were undone and pushed down. The tug at his boxers registered quickly though, and he couldn't stop his hips from jerking upwards in excitement. The zombie didn't remove them, however; he just left more nips and kisses on pale, twitching skin.

"What do you want me to do, Hanna?" came the deep whisper.

"Just touch me..."

Stitched fingers teased their way over his hips, following the waistline of his boxers. "I am touching you."

"No! No, I mean take them off, take everything off and touch me."

"Where do you want me to touch you, hm?"

"My...oh god, jeez, don't make me say it, c'mon!"

Hanna felt his cheeks blazing red with embarrassment. He knew the zombie was getting some kind of sick pleasure out of teasing him. For some reason, that turned him on more than it upset him.

Eblis hmmed into Hanna's shoulder, nuzzling his overheated flesh. "All right how about this?"

"Ah, aaahah! Yeah! Yeah, that's aaaahhgod..."

Hanna nearly convulsed when Eblis' palm ground gently into his crotch through the boxers, rubbing the fabric over the swollen organ encased in them. Sirens blared in his ears, and he imagined the blood in his face boiling hot enough to rupture. No one had touched him there before, ever. It was only his own hand, some unlucky object or ratty pillow. Panting under another person's hand - letting someone else be in control of his pleasure - both frightened and excited him past what he could handle.

His incoherency and blazing skin seemed to alarm the zombie. His stroking became gentler, which had a surprisingly unhelpful effect. The feather-light contact sparked even more feeling, almost-painful jolts and shots to his brain like shots of strong alcohol, making his lips numb.

"S'ok," he mumbled, voice shaking and at least an octave lower. "Do it harder, it feels good."

Instead of complying, the zombie made a thoughtful noise and took his hand away after a wonderfully tight squeeze. Hanna's protests were smothered by kisses. He promptly forgot what he was whining about when their tongues met, leaving him wondering at the bizarre texture of the zombie's mouth this time around. It wasn't wet or dry; something like the feel of leather, and Hanna let his tongue stray over every inch of it.

"We should get your clothes off," the zombie mused, his lips glistening with Hanna's saliva. "You're all red."

It took quite a bit of fumbling and unexpected tickling to accomplish the task, each article removed without hurry. Once Hanna was free of his sweaty clothes, however, a belated wave of self-consciousness rocked his bowels. He swallowed back a lump in his throat and tried to focus on his heartbeat.

"Hanna?"

Eblis was trailing more cool kisses down his jaw and throat. He must have noticed Hanna's discomfort. Sometimes, and only sometimes, Hanna wished he wasn't quite so perceptive. Or that he himself were less...transparent.

"'M all right," he breathed, reaching up to stroke the white wings at the zombie's temples. "Just never been naked in front of someone else."

Eblis replied with a contemplative gaze, head cocked to the side as though trying to understand something. Hanna felt a bead of sweat roll from his forehead down into his ear. He felt a sudden urge to wrap himself up, hide all the skin and bones and scars he never realized he was so insecure about.

"You know, I'm glad to hear that. I don't want anyone else to see you this way. Only me."

Hanna's eyes went wide and his heart sped up, as though trying to jump out of his chest to attach to the zombie leaning in for more kisses. Green, stitched hands teased their way over his quivering stomach down to bony hips, thumbs brushing over the coarse red hair at the junction of his legs. Hanna's breath hitched sharply; the zombie had synchronized biting his lip and wrapping long, eager fingers around his shaft. Eblis moved his wrist in a slow rotation, easily adapting to the erratic bucking that followed.

"Only me, Hanna," he whispered, moving his hand faster. "For as long as I can be with you, please, let me be the only one."

The paranormal investigator was torn between his eyes rolling back and the lump in his throat. Eblis was kissing him again, his neck and shoulders, around the scars again, and every point of contact burned perfectly. Hanna felt a tear slide down his face despite his best efforts. There was a beautiful, warm feeling inside him, and it made him want to cry, regardless the hand on his cock and the lips tormenting his skin. His own lips quivered, and he scrunched up his face to keep the rest of the tears at bay.

"I promise Philo, it's only ever gonna be you."

His voice didn't shake as much as he'd expected. Philo responded with a smile, his eyes shining with gratefulness and affection and so many things Hanna couldn't understand anymore, not with the hand on his cock picking up speed and twisting so wickedly. He bit his lip to keep quiet, but small groans and whimpers always managed to leak their way out.

"Stop holding back," the zombie murmured. He seemed to double the efforts of his hand, pumping in earnest now. "I want to hear you, Hanna. I need to hear what you're feeling."

Willing and eager to give the zombie anything he asked for, Hanna told him. Hanna panted every word he could think of, every positive affirmation he knew to let the zombie know that he was feeling nothing short of incredible. Most of it came out unintelligible and maybe not even English, but the meaning was clear in his raw voice and the spasming in his body. Finally, with a sound he immediately felt embarrassed for, Hanna climaxed into Philo's hand, convulsing and sweaty and disoriented. He couldn't think past the haze, electric where his previous orgasms had been white cotton. His eyes refused to focus through his skewed glasses. His few coherent thoughts consisted of "god I feel good" and "god I hope I'm not drooling". Philo's clean hand was warm and moist from holding him; he felt it now smoothing sweaty tendrils of hair away from his face, trailing along his cheeks and jaw, holding him still for kisses he was only half-aware of.

"Hanna?"

The zombie's voice was concerned. Hanna managed to focus his gaze on the man hovering over him and offered him a content, lazy smile. He wanted to tell him how good he was feeling, but words didn't come. His tongue felt like pudding.

"Are you all right?"

"Good," the redhead slurred, forcing himself to function. "So fuckin'good, man."

Philo grinned down at him, obviously pleased with the result of his performance. Hanna watched him as he leaned over to grab a stray shirt, wiping away the mess on his hand with it. He tossed it over his shoulder towards the bathroom and Hanna gave him a apologetic - but completely unremorseful - glance before his brain suddenly clicked open a need to reciprocate.

Hanna reached out for the zombie, his arms still trembling from post-orgasmic weakness. He grabbed the tie, loosening it, popping open the first few buttons on the way.

Philo watched him, stiffening. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think? It's your turn, now."

The zombie's brows arched in confusion, eyes trying hard to smother a sadness that appeared. "My turn?" Philo stopped him, taking his wrists gently. "Hanna, you know that won't work."

"Trust me."

"There's no point, I can't-" Hanna stopped him with a hand to his mouth.

"What were you planning to do, just get me off and stay frustrated all your life?" he murmured low, eyes pleading for trust.

The undead man sighed, looking a somewhat lost. "What else can I do? I don't have any blood, Hanna."

The redhead pushed at his chest, maneuvering until they'd switched positions. Straddling the zombie, he reached over to his tiny nightstand and took up a sharpie.

"You can lie down and let me handle it."

Philo's eyebrows raised incredulously, but he continued to lie still and quiet beneath Hanna. He eyed the marker and the look of determination on his partner's face, mildly wary. Hanna brought the marker to his skin and began to draw.

HEY, whaddya know, I'm actually updating. WHAT?

And yeah, I ended it there, and yeah, the next chapter might piss you off just as bad, and YEAH, it's kind of a teeny plot that will last maybe all of two chapters and it'll be angsty and shmaltzy and it'll end in fluff of the highest caliber. Probably. If I even remember what I'm up to and don't deviate because of prompts. XD

I really am sorry though, in all seriousness, for the crazy long wait for updates. As is the excuse for 99.9% of update issues, it's LIFE getting in the way and being a douchewhacker. Sorry again!