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Semi wakes to blinding lights and incoherent voices. His head throbs as if he’d been hit with a fucking sledgehammer, and when he tries to move... wait a second, he can’t move?
Numerous ropes and chains bind him down such that he’s kneeling, his mouth muzzled and neck collared.
“Excuse me?” Semi calls out. His tongue feels like it’s weighted with lead but he manages to enunciate well enough anyway.
Instantly, a series of hushes arises from the space before him. The world is still bathed in white but one of his eyes adjusts better than the other, allowing him to get a vague grasp of his surroundings. Four walls surround him - the standard size of the observation room in Shiratorizawa Hospital. How Semi knows this? No clue. Any attempt to retrieve past memories is as good as grasping fog.
From where he kneels, Semi can make out at least three silhouettes whispering amongst themselves, their voices familiar yet not. Like he’s heard it somewhere, in a dream perhaps. Or perhaps this was the dream and his real body was caught somewhere in-between life and death.
“Hello? It’s kind of rude to ignore me,” Semi says, giving his restraints another firm tug and causing a loud clang to reverberate through the room.
“This one can speak! You did it, your cure is working!” One silhouette exclaims. “Damn, it’s the hot one too.”
What the hell?
“Shut up Tendou,” the smaller silhouette snaps before walking a few paces closer and...
You know how in the movies, when an angel walks into frame everything falls into slow motion? Picture it: white backdrop, slender frame, elegant stride. Careless Whisper is playing in the background. Just like that, Mr Too Pretty To Be Real strides into Semi’s field of vision.
Donned in a simple lab coat, his movements are grace itself. Effortless and fluid like water, even as he brings the clipboard to his chest. His complexion is impossibly smooth-ethereal-and his face. Holy fuck, his face. Semi would go to war for it. The bridge of his nose is sharp, cheekbones high but jaw is soft, letting contours flow smoothly down the dip of his neck. His eyes are a million hues of hazel and autumn blended into gold - and Semi could drown in them forever.
Then the man speaks and the illusion shatters.
“You have a surprising amount of attitude for someone who’s presumably dead.”
Semi just stares, jaw dropping ajar in shock. “What did you just say to me?”
“It’s a compliment. You’re lively and more importantly, coherent.” Using the clipboard to tilt Semi’s chin up, his lips pull into the slightest scowl. “Your left eye is completely busted, though. I don’t think I can fix that.”
Before Semi can stop himself, he shoots back: “You’re talking as if you’re some hotshot. Who the hell are you anyway?”
“I’m the lead doctor on your case.” Swiftly withdrawing his clipboard, Mr Angel then pivots on his heel and strides away into the vague sea of white. “I’m also the pioneer of genetic research involving the recent mutations going around so if I were you, I’d sit tight, look pretty, and let the doctors work.”
“This has to be a violation.” Tilting his head to the side, Semi attempts to address the two other silhouettes standing in the vague vicinity. “He can’t talk to me like that if I’m a patient, right?”
“Well technically...” the silhouette with spiky hair responds.
“It is complicated,” the tallest of the three says. “You don’t have a pulse so you technically do not qualify as a patient so much as a... test subject.”
“Ushiwaka, that is mean,” Spiky-hair voices.
Semi watches as “Ushiwaka” turns to face the other doctor, lips parting to respond but before he gets the chance, Semi cuts in: “Okay don’t ignore me now. Can you untie me? What’s going on?”
Silence falls for a few, slow seconds before “Ushiwaka” eventually voices up: “I believe the lead doctor would explain it best when he returns. Rest assured, we are doing everything we can to maximise your comfort.”
The lights go off.
When Semi comes to again, he wakes to a gentle touch on his hand. Blinking slowly, the world, this time, stays dim. Pale, almost, as if the ceiling lights are faraway stars casting their gentle glow on the room. Then, he catches sight of the reason why his hand is being held.
There is a needle.
Fucking hell, there is a needle!
Jerking up, he attempts to withdraw but the restraints hold firm, resulting in a series of metallic chimes to resonate.
“Calm down, will you?”
Oh great, Mr Asshole Doctor is here, Semi thinks incredulously, still trying to pull away from the syringe.
“Maybe give me some warning before you stab me with a fucking metal rod.”
Thankfully, Mr Asshole Doctor withdraws despite making a show of rolling his eyes. “Fine, sorry, I didn’t think Japan’s greatest rockstar would have a fear of needles.”
“Japan’s greatest what now?”
Mr Asshole Doctor blinks once. Twice. Then he raises a brow pointedly. “You still don’t have your memories back?”
“No! None! Now will you tell me what the fuck is going on? What are you trying to do to me?” Semi exclaims, unable to keep the exasperation from seeping into his tone.
“It started as a disease outbreak,” the doctor begins, letting out a soft exhale. “Three years ago, there was a group of elderly folks who started acting strange. At first, we thought they were just going senile until one of them bit a nurse. Her mind was first to go. Then her flesh. And soon after, she managed to escape the isolation room. Tore through the metal bars like some animal.”
“So you’re saying there is a zombie outbreak. Like in the last of us?”
“How the fuck do you remember pop culture references but not your own life?”
Semi does his best attempt at a shrug which only serves to further annoy the doctor.
“Look you’re the first person to respond positively to the cure so I’m going to administer the continued doses and see how far we can take it. Hopefully we’ll be able to return you to a fully functioning human, but there are no promises. Do you have any more questions?”
“Yeah, can you tell me your name or do I have to keep calling you Mr Asshole Doctor in my head?”
Mr Asshole Doctor audibly sighs. “Shirabu Kenjirou,” he says. “And you’re Semi Eita, in case you forgot. I’ll be administering the serum now-”
“Wait,” Semi interrupts, if only to delay the inevitable. “How did I become a zombie? And what was I before all this?”
“Irrelevant but I can pass you your file later, assuming you can still read, that is. Now let me-”
“No wait. How about you tell me more about yourself then? How-”
“Don’t be a baby.”
“I could be your baby,” Semi drawls, trying whatever tactic that graces his mind.
Shirabu falters, the faintest blush rising to his cheeks before he frowns again. “Flirting will not get you anywhere. I will still be injecting you with this.”
“Oh but it could get me favors I’m sure. I do remember you mentioning I was pretty on our first meeting.” Semi retaliates, half mortified that he had it in him to be so bold. “Now could you be gentle with me, doctor? Please?”
“You-” Shirabu splutters, his jaw opening and closing before he huffs. “Just shut up. Shut. Up.”
“Come on, don’t be like that- OW! Did you just stab me, bitch?”
“Your pop culture references continue to astound me,” Shirabu deadpans, already placing the empty syringe back in the case. “Anyway, how do you feel?”
“Hurt that you would betray my trust-”
“I mean physically,” Shirabu cuts in.
Semi pauses for a moment, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. “Weird.”
Rolling his eyes, Shirabu deadpans: “I’m going to need you to give me more detail than that.”
Semi just shrugs. “I don’t know how else to say it. It feels weird.”
To his slight disappointment, the doctor retreats with a sigh, making his way to the door before saying: “Alright then. Goodnight, zombie, I’ll see you for your next dose.”
The light goes out, and with it, so does Semi’s consciousness.
Pain shoots through Semi’s forearm, burning up his bicep and straight through his heart. Letting out a yelp, Semi jerks awake just in time to see Shirabu put away the needle.
“I swear that’s considered assault.” Semi snaps, making an attempt to rub his arm, only to realize that he is still restrained.
“I thought you’d prefer me to administer the cure while you’re unconscious,” Shirabu responds languidly.
“No,” Semi argues. “I’d prefer you to stop stabbing me with needles. What the hell was in that thing anyway? Shit burns- Oh my god, did you just drug me?”
Shirabu makes a show of rolling his eyes. “It’s the same thing I injected you with yesterday.”
Semi frowns. The sensation continues to sear through his chest, burning lower and lower until his body itself feels heated.
“That can’t be. This feels really different.”
Readying his clipboard, Shirabu asks: “Different how?”
Semi falters for a moment. He tries to concentrate on the feeling that continues to ebb and flow, seeping into his veins with such potency it almost hurts. Then, Semi articulates:
“It’s weird.”
Shirabu lets out a muffled groan, staring at his clipboard as if debating whether to slam his head against it or smack Semi with it.
“Can’t you give me any more details?”
Semi merely shrugs, letting his shoulders rise and fall the exact same way he did the day prior. “Look, I have no idea what this cure is meant to achieve. I’m already conscious. Is this supposed to turn me fully human or what? Because I can say for sure I still can’t see jack shit through my left eye and I still don’t have a pulse.”
Shirabu’s eyes widen at that as he mumbles a soft “fuck, I forgot to check,” and before Semi knows it, the doctor is inches away from his face, slender fingers pressed against the nook of his neck. This close, he can see the specks of hazel littered around Shirabu’s pupil like stars. Can count the lashes as he blinks slowly. If Semi wasn’t already dead, he was certain he would be by the end of it.
“Damn,” Shirabu mutters before retreating. “You’re right, you still don't have a pulse.”
Still dazed, Semi just blinks at him.
“As for your question, turning you back into a full human is the hope,” Shirabu says, moving to undo one of the restraints. “You may be lucid but you’ve only been able to maintain consciousness in blocks of ten minutes so far.”
“Maybe if you stay a while, I could be conscious for longer,” Semi blurts before he even filters the thought.
Fuck. What the hell was he doing? Even if the doctor was stupidly pretty, he was a piece of shit. Who would want to flirt with this guy, much less-
“Oh really? Perhaps we can test that theory out next time,” Shirabu drawls, prompting Semi jaw to fall open.
A soft click resounds through the room, signalling that the final restraint has been undone.
The edges of Shirabu’s lips pull into the barest hint of a smile. “But for now, it seems your time is up. Goodnight, Zombie.”
Fire. Incinerating him. Consuming him. Devouring him inside out-
Semi wakes with a loud gasp, eliciting a flinch from Shirabu.
“You’re breathing,” Shirabu exclaims, instantly closing the distance between them as he takes Semi’s hand to have a closer look.
Semi’s skin crawls, the burning sensation continuing to sear bone deep as he lets out a shaky exhale. “What the fuck did you do to me?”
“I administered the cure five minutes ago,” Shirabu replies, his touch trailing up Semi’s forearm and sending sparks shooting through his veins. “Do you feel any different than before?”
Semi stifles a groan as a wave of discomfort crashes into him, heat pooling deep in his core.
“Still weird man,” he forces out, voice strained. “Maybe we can cool it on the treatments-”
Sharp arousal shoots through Semi, so sudden and intense that it forces a choked cry out of his lips.
What the fuck was that?
What the FUCK was that?
Oh this is mortifying.
Slowly, Semi’s gaze rests on the doctor, only to see him stare back with an equally curious expression. Shirabu looks like he wants to dissect Semi and study him on the spot - and some sick part of Semi found that... hot?
This is an actual nightmare.
“Uh,” Semi begins. “So…”
“What is it?” Shirabu voices, his words curt as usual.
I think I want you to fuck me, Semi’s mind supplies unhelpfully.
Fortunately (or unfortunately) Semi doesn’t get the opportunity to say another word as a twisted need spears through him, prompting him to pull away and cough in a poor attempt to hide his disposition.
Shirabu just stares, head tilting as his hazel irises stare straight into Semi’s soul. In the haze of lust, Semi feels inclined to hope that desire, too, lingers just beyond his gaze. Even if it is not the same kind. Even if it just means he gets to feel Shirabu’s touch on his skin as he examines every inch of his body-
“Interesting,” the doctor murmurs
Slender fingers trail up Semi’s forearm, pausing by his bicep before sliding up the slope of his shoulder to rest on his neck. Semi has no heartbeat but he feels a pulse anyway that only keeps rising along with this all-consuming sensation.
“Fuck,” Semi whispers, the word slipping unbidden from his lips as he feels something unmistakably wet pool between his thighs. “I’m going to need you to leave.”
“Oh?” Shirabu questions. “Why the change of heart? I thought you liked me being here.”
Shirabu leans in from where he stands above the bed such that their faces are now mere inches apart. If Semi dared to look, he could count the golden specks scattered across his iris and chart them like constellations in his sky. But he does not. Warmth singes between them, every second of it sending electric arousal shooting straight through to his fingertips.
“Look at me,” Shirabu whispers.
Reluctantly, Semi does with his lips pressed closed and jaw clenched tight. He tries to pull away—to put any form of distance between them—but that was really fucking hard to do while lying flat on the bed.
“Now tell me exactly what you feel,” Shirabu insists, his hand still on Semi’s neck, two fingers pressing against flushed skin as if a pulse would arise at any moment.
“Like I want you to fuck me,” Semi admits, giving in to the intrusive thoughts ringing in his head. His words strain against his throat, voice dipping into gravel.
Shirabu’s eyes widen ever so slightly, eyebrows raising in shock. For a moment, Semi thinks he fucked up big time. What if he just gets drugged again, or worse, restrained in the dark. What if-
“And if I do that, do you think you’d last?”
“What?”
Shirabu doesn't take his words back. Instead, he swings a leg over such that he’s straddling Semi on the bed, bodies so close that Semi feels like he is about to die.
“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” Shirabu says, his voice like velvet before he surges forward to crash their lips together.
The sudden physical contact tears a guttural moan from Semi’s throat, his tongue gliding across Shirabu’s lower lip before pressing in desperately. Their breaths mingle in tandem, each one fueling Semi’s arousal like gasoline to a flame, and when Shirabu’s hands roam low, he arches his back to chase his touch.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” Semi gasps in between kisses. His hands catch on the other’s clothes, raking and pulling until the fabric itself is dishevelled. Shirabu doesn’t fare much better, tugging forcefully at his patient gown before mumbling a soft “fuck it” and pressing his lips against Semi’s neck and sucking hard.
Shirabu continues his downward path, kissing Semi’s collarbone then chest, before sinking down and parting his thighs.
“W-what are you doing?” Semi asks, breathless.
“Just wait and see, baby.”
A sharp sensation shoots through him as Shirabu bites down on his thigh, tearing a moan from Semi’s throat. Semi tilts his head to the sky, back arched as Shirbau continues his relentless assault. Marks are imprinted across his skin like rose petals scattered on a blank canvas, and as Shirabu gets closer and closer to his cock, Semi finds himself trembling. He covers his mouth with a hand in an attempt to muffle the embarrassing sounds escaping him but to no avail.
It feels good. It feels so fucking good.
Shirabu pauses just as he reaches the base of his cock, prompting a rush of anticipation to flood Semi’s bloodstream. Glancing down, Semi was about to say something but all words die on his tongue when he finds Shirabu looking right back at him.
Time falls to a standstill as if the world itself has ceased to spin on its axis. Shirabu maintains eye contact, his breath hot on Semi’s throbbing erection. And Semi feels it then. The scrutiny. The dissection. The curiosity that burns like a flame come alive. But more than that, he feels Shirabu’s hunger lingering beneath, seeping through his gaze like a predator that corners its prey.
Without a word, Shirabu parts his lips and leans in, tongue licking the single bead of precome that threads down Semi’s length before he takes Semi’s cock whole in his mouth. Pleasure instantly sparks through Semi; a raw, untamed electricity that pierces through every crevice of his being.
Against his will, A low moan escapes Semi's throat, spiralling into the frigid air as Shirabu sets a rough pace. Wet sounds resonate throughout the room, only broken by Semi’s quickening breaths. It’s almost too much. He can feel Shirabu’s teeth scraping him ever so slightly, the pain only intensifying the pleasure tenfold.
“You’re so sensitive,” Shirabu says, a glistening string of saliva and precome tethering his lips to Semi’s cock even as he pulls away.
“Shut up,” Semi snaps back. Rosy hues tinge his cheeks as he glances away, praying that the dim light hides his embarrassment.
“Were you always like this when you were alive?” Shirabu asks, his fingers casually stroking Semi’s cock and sending shivers up his spine.
“How the—ah, fuck—am I s-supposed to know?”
“Hm,” is Shirabu’s only response; those beautiful, beautiful irises burning into him with the intensity of sunlight before he sinks back down, consuming Semi entirely. A curse slips past Semi’s lips, his hands reaching down to rake through Shirabu’s silk-smooth hair for any semblance of purchase. This time, he teeters at the precipice of orgasm quickly, the building pleasure cresting over him like a tsunami.
Then, Semi falls into everything warm and wonderful. Into velvet wrapping him as he comes with a broken cry. His vision wipes out, the world itself ceasing to exist as he breathes hard whilst Shirabu continues to stroke him through the aftershocks of orgasm.
“You sound like a pretty little thing,” Shirabu voices, his tongue curling over the words. “So keep doing that when you take my cock.”
“You little shit,” Semi bites out, quickly silenced by a deep kiss from Shirabu.
Dexterous fingers continue to fumble against his lab coat in an attempt to take it off but impatience gets the better of Semi, prompting him to reach up and rip the doctor’s entire apparel. Shirabu’s interest piques. He draws back ever so slightly, head tilting as he stares at Semi with that cold, calculating gaze. But there's also something else. Something primal that simmers between like gravity.
In a swift motion, Shirabu, too, drags Semi’s patient gown above his head, both hands placed on his chest as he pushes him deeper in the bed. Semi glances down and oh, would you look at that.
Even his cock is fucking beautiful.
The tip of it is tinged rose red, a silver sheen of pre-come leaking down its underside. Without hesitation, Shirabu reaches down, holding its base before surging forward to align it with Semi’s entrance, and thrusts in.
Pain and pleasure unlike anything Semi has felt before surges through him, eliciting a raw cry as he grasps Shirabu’s waist for purchase. Bloody trails are raked on the doctor’s back as he sets a brutal pace, each thrust reaching deep, the angle almost hitting his prostate but not quite. It is torture, and torment, and bliss all at once. And as he hangs in that liminal space between feeling too much and wanting more, Semi can only writhe in place.
Lubrication continues to leak obscenely from Semi’s twitching entrance, dripping onto the sheets as Shirabu continues to pound into him with desperate fervour.
“M-more,” Semi chokes out. “Harder.”
His demands fall on eager ears as Shirbu obliges, lifting one of Semi’s thighs before pistoning his hips to reach depths that have Semi seeing stars.
Something cracks. Something else breaks entirely. But neither cares as Shirabu continues rutting into him without abandon.
Semi was already dead. How much worse can it get?
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Shirabu rasps out.
Semi barely processes his words, only calling his name like it is salvation on his tongue. His moans sharpen, breaths coming quick as he feels another orgasm threaten to envelop him, and when Shirabu adjusts the angle ever so slightly, he rams straight into the spot that unravels Semi entirely.
Pure fire burns through him, tearing a breathless whimper from his throat. Shirabu does not slow down though, continuing to chase pleasure with that relentless drive that pulls Semi straight into paralysing overstimulation.
“P-please,” Semi begs. “Its t-too much.”
“What happened to all that attitude earlier?”
Shirabu’s words drip with honey and poison, the challenge of it going straight to Semi’s head. He bites down hard on his bottom lip, drawing blood in a futile attempt at silencing the humiliating sounds escaping him, but Shirabu just grips his jaw and pries it open.
“I want to hear you.”
A broken cry escapes Semi, so desperate and needy it’s almost humiliating. Like this, he is a livewire, trembling as static courses through him. Each thrust triggers a cascade of sensitivity that sparks through him, lacerating him inside out. And before he knows it, tears pool in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks in the relentless assault.
“You—haah—fucking bastard.” Semi grits out.
“Endure it,” Shirabu commands, hands trailing past the expanse of Semi’s chest to pin his arms down. “I’m almost-”
If Semi were any more lucid, he would probably wax lyrical about the way sweat beads down Shirabu’s forehead, avidity seeping into his motions as he, too, brushes up against the threshold of orgasm. But Semi just wants, and the soft moans slipping past Shirabu’s lips are enough to drive him into a frenzy.
Within moments, warmth spills into him, flooding him like first light as Shirabu comes with a shudder. Semi barely has the consensus to catch him as he collapses into his arms, the overstimulation still fraught in his system.
Cold air settles around them, clearing the haze of lust from Semi’s mind. Blinking slowly, he gazes at the smaller man in his arms just in time to find those beautiful hazel irises looking right back at him.
“You’re still awake,” Shirabu muses, breathless.
“I am,” Semi says. He slides a hand around the small of Shirabu’s back, surprised when he finds that he can literally feel the raised ridges of his own scratches. It is well deserved though, considering…
“I think you broke my leg,” Semi says, trying and railing to wiggle his toes. “I’m going to die again.”
“You’re so dramatic,” Shirabu argues, flicking Semi on the forehead. “On the contrary, I think the cure works. We’ll continue this course of treatment.”
“Continue, you say?”
“Yes, unless you’re telling me you’re too weak to take it.”
Semi frowns, already tempted to punch the doctor. Then kiss him. Then maybe fuck him again.
“In your fucking dreams.”