Till Death Do Us Part (Danvid)

Chapter 7: Venom

David's mind was a jumble of thoughts. Everyone's voices went off at once in his head. He's certain that if he closes his eyes, he'd see them all looking down at him in distaste—in horror. He silences their warnings to indulge in his sinful fantasies. It's oh so wrong, he knows it.

He's covered in heat. His whole body slackened.

He can wallow in self-pity later. Let regret be the very virus that consumes him, bringing forth sleepless nights. As long as he gets to have him.

His frozen touch wars with the warmth that coats his skin.

David knows he's utterly fucked the moment he entered the cabin. It looked like he was intruding in on something when he saw Daniel's shirt off. The blonde was inspecting the injury, fingers brushing against the gnarled skin. David drank in the sight of him in those few seconds. Slightly fit and pale as moonlight. Blonde hair disheveled from removing his shirt that now hung limp on the chains.

When Daniel's eyes land on him, he's frozen in place. Caught in the act of staring. His blue eyes flash, amused with David's starstruck expression. He goes back to his wound like he doesn't mind David seeing the entirety of him. He approaches him, internally chanting that nothing's going on between them. He feels nothing. Walls, walls, walls. But as he sits near him and lets his hand slide up Daniel's arm, the chanting has quieted. His piercing gaze melts David on the spot.

The pull is too strong; he weakens against it and let's himself be consumed by his desire.

He asks for his story. Daniel pulls his shirt back on in a swift movement, as if the injury doesn't hinder him at all. David speculates it's to sway his attention away from the bite. He takes his hand, no permission needed. They spare a heartbeat looking at each other. Then Daniel tugs him closer. David doesn't hesitate to glide across, filling the gap between them. He begins writing, his touch a bit more distracting than usual. David forces himself to stop looking at Daniel to read the words as he tells his story.

Daniel wasn't alone. He too was in a group. They were a diverse group of adults and teens. As the virus broke out, they took the liberty of arming themselves in case anyone went looking for trouble. That's when trouble found them. Another group wasn't being too friendly with the supplies. Daniel was the first to make the move; unsheathing a dagger and taking two of the men down with a slice to the throat before they could react. Pikeman grabbed their supplies off the floor, adding more to their weaponry. Jen, as gung ho as ever, took out the other member with her axe. Unfortunately, one of the men was quick to load his gun and fired a shot. Down Jermy went. A profitable loss, since he only slowed them down anyway. Stephen followed up with throwing a knife at the man who fired, hitting true when it entered his skull and out the back. Soon as the group was taken care of, they looted their dead bodies and hauled ass.

They lived the rest of the days similarly. They lived to kill; to slaughter both living and the dead. Whenever they encountered trouble, they spared no one. Until the day they met Snake. He abandoned his own group, even going far as to eliminate the rest the moment Daniel raised his hand. Word spread fast to avoid their menacing group—their posse of white uniformed killers. It had been less than two weeks and they were already making a name for themselves. Snake had yielded, saying he wanted to join. And join he did.

It didn't take long for one of them to start doubting Daniel's leadership. Jen, eager to take over, always found flaws in his plans. She nitpicked at each argument he made, forced the group to do her bidding instead. Soon, he was fighting for his position. He never yielded to her and vice versa. It had become a dangerous game.

They were resting up in a tent, too tired to slaughter more unfortunate survivors and steal their hideout. It had been morning when the horde hit. Daniel was the first one up, yelling at his group to get moving. They sprinted as fast as their feet could take them but they never outran the horde. Hunger-driven beasts ready to devour them. That's when he was knocked down. It was a blur from there. Something cold and hard clamped around this throat and he was yanked back. His hands were too slow to retrieve the dagger when he sees the mad grin on Jen's face. She dragged him back and chained him to a pipe. The collar bit into his neck, refusing to break free. He watched as she blew him a flying kiss and ran out the alley to where the others were waiting. They watch, horrified, until Jen proclaimed they needed to sacrifice one to outrun the horde. Grim acceptance as they turned their backs on him. She committed the motherload of all betrayals.