The Apocalypse

23

Maeve, overwhelmed by the intense stress she had been under, abruptly lost consciousness. Without hesitation, Maurits, her caring companion, swiftly gathered her delicate body into his arms, cradling her close to his pounding heart. With each tender step he took, he carried her weightlessly towards the sanctuary of his home, a place of solace and security.
Sophie, who had been faithfully observing the situation, trailed closely behind, her heart filled with concern for her dear friend.
As he swung open the door with an abrupt force, it slammed shut just inches before Sophie's startled face, causing her to jump back in surprise. He gently guided Maeve towards the cozy couch, where she settled down with a mixture of relief and mild astonishment.
Taking a deep breath to steady his own racing heart, Maurits approached Sophie with a tender expression etched upon his face. Cradling her delicate features in his warm hands, he gazed deeply into her eyes, searching for any lingering signs of distress.
"Darling," he murmured, his voice a gentle whisper filled with concern and affection
As Maeve groaned, slowly regaining consciousness, her eyes fluttered open, only to reveal a flicker of fear reflected within them. Her gaze darted anxiously around the room, searching for familiarity, seeking reassurance in the face of uncertainty.
"You're alright!" Maurits exclaimed, his voice filled with relief as he reached out, gently clasping Maeve's trembling hands within his own. The warmth of his touch sought to provide comfort and anchor her to the present moment.
Maeve's brows furrowed, her expression clouded with worry. A tremor of distress passed through her, causing her hand to instinctively grasp her temple, as if attempting to ward off an impending headache. The weight of her concerns began to manifest, overshadowing her fragile state.
Her voice, barely a whisper, escaped in a whimper. "But my brother... he isn't." Maeve's words hung heavy in the air, the mere mention of her sibling invoking a profound sadness that weighed upon her heart.
Maurits, aware of the gravity of the situation, leaned closer to Maeve, his voice gentle yet resolute. "He was bitten, my darling,"
"I am immune." She cried softly to him.
"I know, but that doesn't make your bother immune, my darling." He replied softly pushing her hair out of her face.
"He was alive," she whimpered softly, tears streaming down her face as she clung onto Maurits like a little monkey. "Don't cry, darling," he whispered, kissing her neck softly, determined to prevent another herd from attacking the village.
She hiccuped softly, reflecting on how Miss Chumson had predicted his death. Nothing good came from being related to her, she believed. The guilt weighed heavily on her; her brother's death was attributed to that ominous prediction. Unable to bear the thought of losing Maurits too, she made a decision without further hesitation.
In an instant, she shoved Maurits away. A dark, intense look crossed Maurits' face immediately, reflecting the sudden change in the atmosphere.
"The fuck you think your doing?" He roared at her making her whine back. She skillfully dodged his hand, determined to reach the door, but Maurits, astute and swifter than she could anticipate, seized her and forcefully slammed her onto the dining table. He loomed over her, breathing harshly, while Maeve cried harder and shook her head in protest.
"If you wish to walk for the next weeks, you're gonna talk!" he yelled, the intensity in his voice cutting through the tension. Despite tears streaming down her face, Maeve opened her mouth, but words eluded her. Her mind felt muddled, words jumbling together, and her throat tightened involuntarily.
"Fucking speak, Maeve! Why were you trying to leave me?" he growled, his frustration evident. "You don't ever leave me." Her hands gripped his as she shook her head, unable to articulate the reasons.
"Is my girl having trouble speaking?" he taunted, a dark smirk on his face. Maeve, innocently oblivious to the taunt, nodded quickly, relief briefly crossing her face before vanishing.
"No words mean she wants to be carried for the next weeks, as she ain't gonna be able to walk?" he said with an evil-looking smirk, his eyes reflecting a sinister glint. Maeve's heart raced as she shook her head, attempting to stammer out a response, but fear rendered her speech capabilities nonexistent.
"What do you want to say, darling." He whispered against her ear licking the side of her face while his hand went under her skirt.
"S-s." Tears began to fall harder she hated that she couldn't speak. "S-sorry." She pushed out finally before her mouth fell open and she felt three fingers enter her.
"A little late for that, my darling." He replied curling his fingers inside of her.
"After I am done with you, you beter know what you are gonna say." He said biting painfully in her neck before he pulled his fingers out and slammed his cock deep inside of her. She threw her head back and moaned his name involuntarily.
.

The couple hadn't stopped until Maeve was on the verge of passing out from overstimulation. She remained silent, and Maurits understood that her overwhelmed mind needed time to settle before she could speak again. Unaffected, he rose from the warm bed, where Maeve clung to his body like a lifeline. Outside, darkness prevailed, with only the moon casting a dim light.
Maurits cracked his back, pulled on some pants, and descended the stairs. However, he halted upon hearing a noise. Swiftly, he retrieved the gun hidden in one of his couches, casting a concerned glance at the stairs, hoping Maeve wouldn't wake up. He cautiously approached the kitchen, the source of the sound, gun cocked and ready.
"What the fuck, Johnny," Maurits growled upon discovering a man at his counter.
"Sorry, the girls had a fight, and I had the code and key to your home," Johnny explained, offering a tight smile.
"How?" Johnny inquired, his eyes shifting to the ceiling.
"Her brother got shot in front of her eyes," Maurits answered bluntly.
"Right, right," johnny acknowledged, nodding thoughtfully. "So, not good, I suppose," he added, a humorless laugh escaping him.
"No, not good!" Maurits sneered at his stupid answer.
Before they could continue their conversation, the door opened, revealing Maeve. She hid herself partially behind the doorpost, her glistening eyes visible in the faint light.
"M-m," she whimpered, stepping behind the door as Johnny continued to stare. She only wanted Maurits here, not Johnny. Though she liked Johnny, she didn't want him.
Maurits swiftly approached Maeve, who had unshed tears in her eyes. "Say my name," he whispered calmly, gently pushing some hair away from her face. "Just think calmly; don't speak until you hear the words in your head." He instructed her, and she took a deep breath, glancing at the door where Johnny stood. Doubt and embarrassment crept on her face as she breathed out a shaky breath.
"Don't worry about him, my darling," he assured her grabbing her chin to look back at him and only him.
"Speak," he whispered, resting his head against hers.
"Maurits b-b," she stammered, pausing and shaking her head, signaling him to pick her up.
"Maeve, try again," he encouraged, his hand on her waist, slowly caressing her.
"M-Maurits b-be-e-ed?" she stuttered out, and he nodded in acknowledgment. Without hesitation, he picked her up.
"Good girl," he praised her.
He left Johnny without a word and returned to bed with his girl.