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She leaned out the window, binoculars to her eyes. Nothing.
That was good. It had been a few nights since they’d last had to deal with any infected; but that last battle had been horrible. It was dark, and she could barely see the Uroboros monster as they writhed and wriggled into the darkened building they were in. They’d ended up deciding the situation as unsalvageable and set the place alight. Chris leapt through window the moment the fires started. She’d been able to get to the jeep they were using and pull it out of the building; but it took her an hour to track him down. He hated fire now.
She was lucky to still have him. Wesker claimed Uroboros would get rid of the “chaff” of humanity, leaving only the worthy. She had no clue if the fact Chris survived his exposure was funny or not in that light. He had to have known she’d still be around; the fact her blood contained antibodies giving her resistance to Uroboros made her the cornerstone of his plan.
That last fight had been terrifying, and in the following day, they’d both been mostly silent. They decided to leave the city and head to the outskirts, where they had already stashed some supplies and gas in a warehouse. The creatures hadn’t followed. They spent the next few days laying low; occasionally talking plans. She wanted to try and find survivors, Chris was certain Wesker had survived and wanted to kill the man. They both agreed that those goals weren’t necessarily exclusive.
She placed the binoculars on the table and sighed. Another quiet night. That was good, at least, as good as possible. It was over, just her and Chris, to her knowledge. She took a few deep breaths and exited the office she’d been peering through the windows of. It had been a few weeks since the idea first entered her mind, and it kept coming back to her.
Just her and Chris.
She crept down the stairs. The bottom floor of the warehouse they were staying at was strewn with stacks of wooden pallets, boxes of canned food they had scavenged, gear and supplies they had taken from a devastated army depot; guns, ammo, blankets, clothing, bottled water. All the weapons and gear were for her benefit; Chris hadn’t needed any since they’d met up after the world went to Hell. He was also a lot more willing to try eating what was left over from the infected when they were killed.
He had survived Uroboros. But he wasn’t unchanged. He sat in the corner, head down. His regular arm was on his knee, while his right arm trailed across the room, the smaller offshoots always writhing in minute increments. When they weren’t out scavenging, he’d usually just pick a corner to sit in, wait for her to come down and make conversation that’d end up stifled when one of them touched a topic they didn’t want to. Usually her breaking down over her blood being used to make Uroboros, or him over his failure to stop Wesker from launching those missiles.
“Chris?”
He looked up at her. He was now tall enough to be at eye level even while sitting. “Something wrong?”
His voice was deeper now, with an edge to it like he was taking through a permanently sore throat. But it was still Chris’s voice. That made everything she was about to do so much easier.
She had already unbuttoned the top of the military uniform she’d been wearing, and releasing her grip on the front, she let hang open. It had been a bit too loose, which made it easier to shake off. She ran a hand up her belly, removing it as it reached her chest and she felt the scar tissue from the pump. She felt self-conscious about the nasty, ugly scar and what it represented to her. She then wheeled around and swayed her hips.
It used to be a thing for them. She’d set him down in a chair or on a bed and dance, nothing particularly acrobatic, just a few simple moves as she stripped. She used to wear the sexiest lingerie she could find when she danced. Sometimes something expensive and lacy and deep red, but she had an inkling he liked it more when she wore things that covered as little as possible.
Now it was just what she managed to loot. Nothing fancy. But this’d be their first time together in so goddamn long. She unclasped her bra; the fact she managed to find one that fit during one of their scavenging trips in a hotel was a miracle. As she let it drop to the floor she looked over her shoulder at Chris.
He was leaning forward heavily. His voice was ragged. “Jill…”
She spun to face him and pressed a finger to her lips. She bowed forward, each hand cupping a breast and gave a smile. Arched her back the other way and removed her belt; held it at arms length and let it drop. Took a few steps towards him, and undid her pants. They fell to the floor and she kicked her way out of them. Fanciest move she had was a twirl that ended with her sitting on the floor, perpendicular to him; this time she nearly ended up at his feet. He groaned as he looked her over. Gave a leg kick, before pulling her panties down.
Bounced back to her feet, completely exposed. He looked at her, jaw open. She could barely read his expressions anymore. But his eyes ran over her, very quickly. Face, breasts, legs, vagina, breasts, vagina, face. At this point in her routine, this normally was the part where she’d end up sandwiched between Chris and a wall, digging her nails in his back and screaming his name.
He remained motionless, so walked up to him and placed a hand on his face. “I’ve been waiting to do that.”
That was the truth. For years, she was Wesker’s toy, a puppet who had against her will helped him in his mad quest; she had nothing but her mind to keep her sane. He could use her blood to make Uroboros, force her body to abet him in infecting the world. The one thing she had was thinking; revenge fantasies against Wesker were worthless given that day by day she had to stick around him and couldn’t summon the force to punch his smug face until he was swallowing teeth. So she thought of all the things she and Chris used to do, what they’d do when he saved her.
Things hadn’t gone as planned.
“You really want to do this?” He asked, shifting uncomfortably. They didn’t talk much about his condition, but she knew he didn’t like her looking at him too long; if she felt bad about the scar on her chest, she couldn’t imagine on what Chris must’ve felt like. He didn’t look like her longterm partner anymore; a mish-mash of grey-red skin stretched too tightly over too many muscles, a mostly-skeletal face that she could barely recognize him in, and writhing black tendrils. “I mean…”
He wasn’t handsome anymore. Nothing about the way he looked made her want him. But she knew him. The fact he was concerned about what she wanted meant he still was Chris. Still her partner. She still loved him. They’d never be able to go back to the way things were. But she still had him, he still had her. So, she’d make the most of it. “I don’t want this, Chris. I need this.”
He sat, looking her over a minute before he got up to his feet. Which put her at eye level with his…
Oh.
She should’ve expected it. He’d stopped wearing clothes a few weeks back; they’d never find anything that wasn’t uncomfortably tight for him and they constantly got shredded in fights. She’d grown accustomed to his flaccid cock at eye level. But now that she had his attention… he had always been big but now… like the rest of him his cock was absolutely massive and distorted. Thick black veins ran along its length, and they shuddered beneath his skin when she ran her hand over it. He groaned and planted his left hand heavily on her shoulder when she rolled her tongue along his tip.
She looked up at him as she pumped his cock a few more times with her hand. She tried to stifle the voice in the back of her head screaming that he was just too big. She’d be fine. “We’re going to have to take this slow.”
He grunted and nodded in reply.
She squealed when his right arm coiled around her waist, loosely wrapping itself around her and lifting. The whole mass was slick with some sort of fluid, but despite that and the looseness of his hold, the combined efforts of the tendrils kept her from slipping out of his grip. Some writhed against her stomach and up and down her spinal cord, making her shudder. A few longer ones found other places to caress. Several slid across and between her breasts, some gently squeezing her, others just brushing against the flesh they found. One traveled far enough to run along the underside of her chin; something Chris often used to do with his hand do before leaning in for a kiss.
More traveled down, wrapping around her bare legs, running along her thighs, groping for sensitive spots. Her breath hitched in her throat when one rubbed against her vagina. More followed. She sighed when one penetrated her, gently pushing in between her lips and curiously running along her inner walls. Its brethren joined; one at a time two more entered her. They moved of their own individual accords; one thrusting in as another slid out. Each found a place to stroke or squirm against, combined they filled her more than anything she’d ever experienced. A fourth didn’t penetrate her, but pressed against her clit and trembled. It was like nothing she ever felt before, and she shuddered and sighed at the sensation.
One had crawled its way to her face, running from her cheekbone down to her lips. Ignoring that voice in the back of her head, she stuck her tongue out and licked the tendril; it tasted faintly of salt and carbon, like meat left on a fire for far too long. Not particularly good, but it wasn’t revolting. She looked up at Chris, head cocked to the side as he intently watched her and that tendril. Maybe he thought it was hot? She opened her mouth, and the limb found its way in. It slid in and out as she ran her tongue against it.
Jill let out a startled cry around that tentacle in her mouth, every muscle below her waist contracting, when one of the tendrils worked its way down the base of her spine, to her ass, and pressed into the opening it found. Feeling her tightening to prevent its entrance, the tendril retreated. She tapped her free hand against the main mass of tentacles and muttered against the limb in her mouth.
It came out. “It’s fine. Just took me by surprise.”
She let her mouth hang open for the tendril to return to it, while she relaxed among the warm limbs stroking her entire body. When one found her ass again, she didn’t resist as it slid inside. It was thinner than the first that had tried, and combined with the slickness coating it, slid in without too much difficulty. She moaned as it wriggled it’s way deeper.
There was nothing for her to do as Chris’s tentacles did all the work. Tentacles caressed her, thrusted into her, trembled against her sensitive places. She moaned as she was fondled, inside and out, as tension built inside her. The movement of the writhing mass picked up, and up, and her moans reached a fever pitch. His tentacles pushed her to the edge and right over it; she thrashed in Chris’s grip, threw her head back enough to dislodge the tentacle she’d been fellating, and wailed.
The tentacles slowed to a halt as she came down from the orgasm, occasionally she twitched reflexively at their movements, or they moved reflexively with her twitches. One by one, they slipped out, trailing liquid along her skin as they withdrew. Heavily panting, she looked up at him; he was intently staring at her. “Was it good for you?”
He chuckled at that, before setting her down on the hard floor. She laid bonelessly, still trying to catch her breath as he walked off. Without him around and inside her, coated in the same fluid that coated his tendrils, the air was cold. He returned with a bottle of water, opened it and gave it to her. She swallowed it in small sips, looking him over.
When she finished she tossed the bottle over her shoulder. He was still massive and hard. “I’m ready for round two.”
“I… don’t want to hurt you.” He said.
“I trust you.” She’d been stretched out a bit from the tentacles. She could take him, and if she couldn’t, he knew her enough to stop before he injured her.
Chris picked up one of the blankets lying on the floor, and folded it with some difficulty using his mismatched arms. He then draped it over a stack of pallets, scooped Jill up and laid her down over the blanket on her stomach. Her lower body danged off, toes barely reaching the floor. A hand the size of a frying pan rubbed her neck then ran down, past her shoulders, to the base of her spine. It squeezed her left buttock, before giving it a playful swat that she yelped at. He always did like her ass.
She felt hot breath on the back of her neck as he leaned down close. She glanced over her shoulder as he pressed his face down against hers in a lipless parody of a kiss. “You ready?”
She licked her lips. “Yeah.”
He fumbled as he got on his knees and lined his cock up against her slit. He eased the blunt, bulbous head in, taking it as slowly as possible. Inch by inch she was stretched wide; he’d loosened her up with the tentacles, and between their slime and her own wetness she was well-lubricated, but he was enormous. She whimpered as he continued pushing in, managing to reassure him she was fine, he could keep going, when he hesitated.
“It’s all in.” he said when his hips pressed against her ass, and she nodded. She was stretched to her limit by then. He eased back, planting his hand on the small her back to keep her in place as he did. She gasped when he shoved back in a little too roughly. “Sorry.”
He was careful to take things slowly after that, back-and-forth movements that only represented a fraction of his length. Something along the bottom of his cock pulsed against her insides in a way that hit her where she was most sensitive. A pair of tendrils crept around her waist and toyed with her clit as he continued his slow, measured movements.
It was starting to feel better and she let out a small moan. He began to quicken his pace slightly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Came her clipped reply. She could take this; despite the discomfort, she could feel another orgasm building inside her between the tendrils at her clit and the pulsing inside her.
It took a long while, his speed picking up some more while she moaned. He was taking his time, trying to make things as easy on her as possible. It was feeling better as he worked in short, swift strokes, careful not to drive too deeply. Pressing her into the blanket with his body. His tongue, inhumanly long ran across her face.
Her muscles tensed while she had nowhere to go, between the pallets and Chris’s body. Her breathing became shallower and she gripped the blankets until her knuckles were white as the tentacles at her opening just pressed against her clit and trembled. She yelled out Chris’s name as she came; squirming against his massive frame until all the energy left her and she went limp.
A rumble built in his throat as he continued. He slammed his left hand down on the pallet she was draped over, his breathing got heavy. The rumbling turned to a howl, the wood of the pallet cracking in his grip as he buried himself all the way in her one last time, hard enough to make her yelp. Something thick and wet and hot filled her. She bit her lip as he flooded her with his cum. He was still for a while, panting heavily as his pulsing cock began softening inside her.
He gently placed his hand between her shoulder blades. Slowly, he pulled his cock out, cum dripping down along her inner thighs when he finally pulled himself free. She moaned as the pressure inside her dissipated. He collapsed back to a sitting position, pulling her down along with him, then laid back on the floor. She kept hold of the blanket and draped it haphazardly over them.
She was drenched in sweat and slime and cum and was numb and out of breath and tired and her head was swimming. She smiled. Hell of a way to make up for lost time.
“Jill?” Chris jostled her; her limp limbs flailed slightly. Resting her head against his chest, she looked up into his face. He ran the thumb of his left hand across her cheek. “It’s been so long. I’ve wanted do this again for a long time.”
“Same here, Chris.”
“Thank you for… letting me do that. I thought, with the changes...”
She half-heartedly rapped the back of her right hand against his chest, something that took a surprising amount of effort. She didn’t want to move. Just wanted to lay against him for a while. “Stop that. You’ve changed, but you’re still the same man I’ve wanted to spend my life with.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“A little.” She doubted she’d be walking straight tomorrow. “We’re going to have to wait a little before I’m ready to do this again. Can’t keep the sort of pace we used to have.”
He grunted before asking “But we are going to…”
She giggled. Chris had asked the same question years ago, after a wild night where they, at her lead, had crossed certain boundaries she’d set for their relationship. Never looked back after that. “You wore me out, but I had an amazing night. I’m game for another, just in a while.”
They lay in silence for a long time before he pulled her up, turning around over to be face-to-face. He nuzzled her neck and sighed. “I love you, Jill.”
She craned her neck and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you too, Chris.”
He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. His hand was against her back, big fingers lazily tracing circles against her flesh, her body rose and fell with each breath he took. She was tired and dirty and imagined she’d be incredibly sore in the morning. They still had to figure out what to do with themselves. The world was still over.
But for now, this was perfect.