Crossdressing To Survive An Apocalypse [BL]

Chen woke first.

The floor was unforgiving against his back, and something sharp was digging into his shoulder blade, but none of that mattered. Not when he looked down and saw Skyy still curled against his chest, breathing slow and even, face slack with sleep.

Skyy looked small like this.

He was still naked, still tangled in the blanket Chen had dragged over them sometime in the night, and he had one hand fisted loosely in Chen’s shirt like he was afraid Chen would disappear if he let go.

Chen stayed very still and watched him.

Morning light crept in through the cracks in the storage room walls, thin and gray. The wounded man in the corner was still asleep, snoring softly. Everything was quiet.

Chen’s eyes drifted down.

And then he winced.

Skyy’s body was a mess.

His throat was covered in bruises, dark red marks that traced down to his collarbone and across his chest. Chen’s teeth had been busy last night. His hips were worse—finger-shaped shadows pressed into the pale skin on both sides, deep enough that they’d probably stay for days. His thighs had more marks, and his shoulders, and one spot on his neck where Chen had clearly bitten down harder than he meant to.

He hadn’t been gentle.

Skyy had begged him not to be, but still. Chen looked at those handprints on his waist and felt guilt curl in his gut.

Then his gaze dropped lower.

He shifted the blanket carefully, just enough to look, and his breath caught.

Skyy’s hole was still pink and swollen, puffy around the edges from how hard he’d been stretched. And it was glistening—still dripping, slow and steady, Chen’s release from hours ago working its way out now that he’d pulled free.

Chen stared at it for longer than was reasonable.

Then he carefully, quietly, reached for their clothes.

Getting Skyy dressed without waking him was a job. Chen did it in stages. He wiped him down first with a corner of the blanket—gentle, so gentle, dabbing at the mess on his stomach and thighs and between his legs while Skyy slept on, oblivious. Then he worked the underwear up his legs. Then the pants.

Skyy stirred when Chen lifted his hips to pull the waistband up, and Chen froze.

But Skyy just mumbled something and turned his face into Chen’s arm.

Chen finished dressing him. Shirt next, buttoned crooked because Chen’s hands were clumsy with carefulness. He smoothed Skyy’s hair back from his forehead with his thumb.

Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple.

”Skyy.” His voice was low. ”Hey. Morning.”

Skyy’s nose scrunched.

”Skyy.”

A small sound. Then his eyes fluttered open—slow, heavy, still fogged with sleep. He blinked up at Chen for a moment, processing.

And then he smiled.

It was a tiny thing. Sleepy and soft and completely unguarded, like waking up next to Chen was the most natural thing in the world.

”Morning,” he mumbled.

Chen’s chest did something complicated.

”Morning,” he said back. ”How do you feel?”

Skyy shifted, testing his body, and his face went through several expressions in quick succession—awareness, then embarrassment, then a wince as certain muscles made themselves known.

”Sore,” he admitted. ”In places I didn’t know could be sore.”

”Sorry.”

”Don’t be.” Skyy’s smile came back, wider now. ”Worth it.”

Chen snorted and helped him sit up. Skyy leaned on him heavily, still half-asleep, and Chen kept an arm around his back while he got his bearings.

”You’re dressed,” Skyy noticed, looking down at himself.

”Yeah.”

”You dressed me.”

”Yeah.”

Skyy’s cheeks went pink. He touched the buttons on his shirt, then looked up at Chen with something soft and shy in his eyes.

”Thanks.”

Chen just nodded, because if he tried to say anything his voice would probably crack.

”Breakfast?” Chen offered.

Skyy leaned his head against Chen’s shoulder and closed his eyes again.

”Five more minutes first.”

Chen dug into his pocket and pulled out a small strip of jerky, wrapped in cloth and squashed flat from being sat on all night.

”Here,” he said, pressing it into Skyy’s hand.

Skyy blinked at it. ”Where did you get this?”

”Always carry one. Emergency ration.” Chen shrugged. ”Eat. You need the energy.”

Skyy tore off a piece and chewed slowly, still leaning against Chen’s shoulder. The jerky was tough and salty and about as far from a real breakfast as you could get, but it was food, and after last night, it tasted like a feast. He offered the rest back, and Chen took a bite too, and they passed it back and forth between them until it was gone.

Chen glanced around the room.

”The wounded guy’s not here.”

Skyy looked up, suddenly alert. ”Where’d he go?”

”Don’t know.” Chen was already getting to his feet, pulling Skyy up with him. Skyy winced as he straightened, one hand bracing against Chen’s arm. Chen noticed, and his jaw tightened, but he said nothing yet.

Chen moved to the door first, hand hovering near his weapon, and eased it open.

The wounded man was sitting right there.

Just outside. Leaning against the opposite wall, legs stretched out in front of him, looking for all the world like he’d been waiting there for a while. He didn’t look up when the door opened. He kept his eyes fixed somewhere on the ground and lowered his head a little further, like he was trying very hard to pretend the two of them didn’t exist.

Then he mumbled something.

”What?” Chen asked.

The man cleared his throat. ”With the noise you two made,” he said, still not looking at them, ”you would have called out a whole crowd of zombies. Probably the whole neighborhood. Half the city.”

Silence.

Chen and Skyy both went red.

The man kept going, flat and tired, like he was reading off a list. ”The screaming. The—the other sounds. The thumping. I thought something was attacking you at first. Then I realized.” He finally lifted his eyes, deadpan. ”It went on for a long time.”

Skyy looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him.

Chen cleared his throat. ”We were… careful.”

”You were not.”

”We had a good time,” Chen said, defensive.

The wounded man made a noise that was almost a laugh and looked away again.

Skyy buried his face in his hands. ”Oh god.”

Chen pulled him in close by the waist, arm wrapping firmly around him. Skyy melted into it without thinking, and Chen felt a small, smug warmth settle in his chest. Whatever embarrassment this was, it had been worth it. It had really been worth it.

”If your leg hurts, tell me,” Chen murmured against Skyy’s hair. ”I’ll carry you.”

Skyy opened his mouth to say he was fine.

The wounded man rolled his eyes.

Chen saw it. Chen’s head turned slowly toward him, and he fixed the man with a flat, hard glare.

The wounded man looked at the ground and shut up.

Skyy stifled a laugh against Chen’s shoulder.

”Come on,” Chen said, steering them both toward the exit. ”Let’s see if this city has anything left to eat that isn’t jerky.”

Behind them, the wounded man sighed, pushed himself up off the wall, and followed.