Snowed In: M/M Mpreg Alpha Male Romance

by Aiden Bates

  Clarkie takes his pages up to the big house and goes straight to Kevin’s office, where he barges in without knocking.

  “Clarkie? What …?” Clarkie sets what he has on Kevin’s desk (it’s a nice office, very quiet in here and very clean and impersonal, not at all like the rest of the house, which surely Glenn decorated). Clarkie lets Kevin paw through the pages for a few seconds before asking him a question.

  “Where are you taking us tomorrow?

  “I … still don’t know for sure,” Kevin admits, his brow furrowed, but his eyes moving quickly over the information he’s been handed. “There are a couple of old bomb shelters around, families built one or two in the tri-county area during the Cold War, but I still had one left to scout today and didn’t know which one … might actually … is this place real?” Kevin is looking up at him like Clarkie just splashed a handful of diamonds on his desk.

  Clarkie shrugs. “This was all Alex’s stuff. You know he didn’t pick you guys to call when he was out of a job on accident, he came to you because you guys were closest to wherever this is.”

  “Looks like New York, one of the Rust Beltier parts of the state,” Kevin says, standing up and taking the map and the blue prints or whatever they are over to the light of the window.

  “It takes two hours to get there, I know that,” Clarkie says.

  “Then we’re going now,” Kevin says. “You haven’t been assigned much—way to finally pull your weight, by the way. You come with me today, and you tell me everything Alex told you on the way, let’s go.”

  “Fine,” Clarkie agrees. He’s already wearing shoes, he’s all set. He follows Kevin downstairs and out to his car. Guess they’ll eat breakfast on the way, then?

  “Hey,” Kevin says, after he opens the passenger side door to clear the seat, but before he lets Clarkie pass inside. “Why didn’t you bring this to me earlier? Why didn’t you give me this stuff when I asked for it?”

  Clarkie looks at Kevin, the guy who’s taken on Alex’s mission to save everybody, but the guy that Alex didn’t have many nice things to say about when Kevin was assuming Alex had some mid-life crisis and got fired. He judged him quite a bit, a lot more than Glenn ever did, because Glenn tries ridiculously hard to be compassionate. Now Clarkie has to answer to this guy.

  He shrugs again. “Let’s just hope it’s not too late, okay?”

  Kevin considers that for a second, but then nods and hustles around to his side of the car. Before it’s too late: that’s the name of the game for all of them today.

  Part III: It’s Their Funeral

  13. Jeff Enjoys the Day

  At any point in his life after puberty struck him, if you asked Jeff what he would want to do if it was his last day on Earth, he would tell you without hesitation it was to get laid. Not drugs, not loved ones, not eating, not spending all day on a beach, none of that. Sex, sex, sex, that’s all he really wants to do on any day of his life, but especially if it’s the last. On Friday morning he has a few more tasks to complete for Team Survivors, but after that he’s got a free day, his last day of freedom since tomorrow they’ll all have to pack up, move to safety, batten down, and then wait. Julian, like Clarkie, wasn’t given any work by Kevin since they both weren’t around when Kevin confirmed the news. Jeff takes Julian with him shopping for a stockpile of clothing since everything they’ve got now (especially those who showed up from out of town with only one weekend’s worth of underpants) will eventually wear out. Jeff needs clothes of all ages and sizes since everyone else wants to have babies. Jeff would rather be a baby; Julian might have a fetish for that too, adult baby stuff, who knows? Jeff would love to know.

  As they browse a Goodwill for sizes that make sense (they’ll be getting old fashioned non-electric sewing machines and bolts of fabric after this), Jeff asks Julian the one big question he already has his own answer to: “What would you like to do with your last day on Earth?”

  Julian tips his head to Jeff from across the aisle and smiles. His hair gleams like shining copper, new pennies, even under the fluorescent lighting. Someday they might all miss such things as ugly lighting and ho-hum chores like shopping, everyone wants what they can’t have, at least that’s the sort of thinking that drives all of Jeff’s fiction stories (he writes them, though they never seem to sell like his magazine articles do, and yet he keeps trying). You’ve got to appreciate what you’ve got before it’s gone too, though.

  “I figured I’d be doing you for most of it,” Julian says, before turning back to inspect the clothes on the rack.

  Jeff smiles and blushes, not because he’s so scandalized by such frank sex talk, but because he’s still pretty head-over-heels at the thought that Julian likes him so much.

  “No, but, isn’t there anything special you’d like to do, that you’d like us to do, together? I mean, if you’re into exhibitionism or something, it’s not like you’ll have another chance for it, Jules, there won’t be another anonymous crowd in our lifetimes, and you know my friends are pretty liberal but they’re not going to be agreeable to having us fuck out in the open.”

  A man nearby overhears that last line and does a stark double-take before dropping whatever item he was considering and walking quickly towards the exit. Good thing no one has to worry about their reputation anymore either; you lose some, you win some with the end of the world.

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Julian says quietly. “You know there is a place I like, we should go there. I mean obviously we can’t stay out all night or anything, we’ve got to be back at base and ready to go in the morning, but we can go as soon as we’re done with our list.” Julian drops a few more items into the cart Jeff is pushing and moves close enough so that he can whisper in Jeff’s ear. “It’s not like it takes that long to cum a few times, we can be in and out”—a quick kiss on Jeff’s cheek—“no problem.”

  “Where to?” Jeff asks weakly. He could cum right now if a stiff breeze suddenly rolled through the aisle, it turns him on like crazy that someone as cute and petite and sweet as Julian could be so raunchy within.

  “Let’s just finish up the chores, let me worry about it. When we’re done we’ll go shopping for outfits only for us okay? And then we’ll go to Shangri-La.”

  Jeff assumed (stupidly) that Julian was speaking of a metaphorical Shangri-La, just a place hidden and idyllic, some utopia reserved only for those who could find it, but the place ends up being an S&M club literally called Shangri-La. So much for metaphor.

  Or, actually, it’s a club with a basement where people can go to be weird, and to be seen being weird discreetly. Julian explains the vibe of the place as he drives them there.

  “I’m a member of a club, they have an internet message board, and they use this place’s basement, rent it with the club dues. Basically there can always be something going on down there, if you want to show up and wait, or if you want to plan something and draw a crowd, then you just post a flag about it. I posted us a flag earlier today, we should have an audience by the time we get there.”

  Julian’s eyes shoot to his phone to check what looks like an RSVP list. He smirks cutely, and his nose twitches like a sweet little bunny rabbit when he does, and Jeff feels another flush of desire. He should really beat off now so he has time to rev up again before they arrive, he has a very light-touch trigger right now.

  Jeff does indeed hurry to the bathroom the second they arrive to rub one out, and then he buys himself a nice booze on the rocks so he can use the glass to cool his face, and the alcohol to rekindle him. Sure getting trashed means he can’t get it up, but one drink always turns him on a bit, and Julian needs time to set up and shake hands or whatever the protocol is in a place like this. Jeff sits at the bar and observes the room through the mirror behind the bottles. Julian is downstairs and said he’d send someone up when he’s ready. It takes nearly half an hour, enough time to give Jeff time to get tipsy and then get a little too sober as he imagines how he would ever explain a place like t
his to the next generation underground. Those kids will grow up with no TV, no escape from their parents, hardly anyone to fuck that they aren’t related to … how are they ever going to be like that? Really be and not just exist, not just eat, sleep, and breathe and wait for the next chore to come up? Jeff’s so sad for them he’s almost grateful for his own circumstances; at least he’ll have lived long enough to have the best of both worlds.

  Jeff is wondering if they’ll ever find a way to distill alcohol again underground when Julian’s messenger, a big hairy man with a bald head and a mustache like a walrus, taps Jeff on the shoulder and nods toward the door that leads downstairs. Jeff’s cock practically lurches towards—at least being quick to cum in his situation also means quick to recover! Today is not the day to be spent, it’s the day to be flush.

  The audience is small, a cluster of unattractive ne’er-do-wells specifically, and the basement might look a little mysterious if it were night out, but even without windows somehow it still feels like a plain, old, ordinary afternoon down here with the funky-smelling velvet curtains and the sound of the place—you can hear just how empty and unimpressive it is down here, but that doesn’t take away from the magic of Julian.

  He’s not naked, but he’s not clothed either. He’s got straps crossing his chest and framing his junk by wrapping around his thighs. He’s wearing the most lethal pair of slick, black stiletto heels, it’s like he’s wearing a pair of huge, petrified scorpions for shoes. He’s got some kind of black licorice-looking whip in his hand, which he hefts towards Jeff as he stands with one hip jutted out. Jeff walks slowly forward, feeling like he’s dressed as the accountant here to call everyone’s fun-debts for payment. He takes the whip Julian is holding and pulls it back with him before he feels it tug on something behind Julian’s back. Jeff wonders for a second, But how come both of his hands are visible? Then he realizes whatever is on the end of this whip, it’s held inside Julian’s asshole.

  Jeff moans, and Julian looks around and nods to some willing participant. He plucks at Jeff’s shirt, and the guy steps forward with his arm out like a fancy waiter to collect Jeff’s clothes as Julian undoes them and Jeff moves to help them peel off. How does such a sweet little thing command a room of goobers and roughs like this? Jeff is hard as a rock when his pants come off, his cock spring to attention.

  Their helper steps back. Other men around them draw out their cocks and start to masturbate watching this performance. This really is the one and only time they’ll be able to display themselves in front of strangers. Jeff is so happy they’re doing this, he’s so happy to be here with someone so amazing.

  Jeff leans forward and kisses Julian. A slight shift or sigh sounds through the room, and now the place feels a little smaller, a little more intimate. When the kiss breaks, Julian whispers: “Yank this out of me, wrap it around my neck, and take control.”

  Jeff does not need to be told twice.

  Once the whip is around Julian’s throat, Jeff bends him over what looks like a massage table, face first, so he can hold the whip-thing in one hand like reigns, and with the other insert himself into Julian and then hold down the small of his back. Those lethal heels have Julian’s ass standing higher than usual, at a perfect angle for Jeff to floss his cock in and out of Julian’s hole. However he got the knob-end of the whip inside himself, it left a slick substance that makes Jeff’s access as smooth as butter. Jeff thinks briefly that he can’t believe how little it matters to him that they’re being watched (the other men melt into the shadows under the spotlight where the table stands), and he also thinks that he has this whole domination idea all wrong (he thought this was about hurting and being hurt, but it’s not; it’s about holding mutual control, like a game of tug-of-war), and then Jeff’s thoughts fade blissfully away. His conscious mind rests and his underbrain thinks of nothing but the touch of Julian’s insides, the undulation of his body each time Jeff fills him up, about the way his feet come off the ground when Jeff grabs the edges of the tables on either side of Julian’s shoulders and crams him further onto it. After that, it’s Jeff’s stance that holds the whole scene together, and Julian who grips the table as hard as he can to push back against Jeff, and the noises around them start to reveal a group climax happening as Jeff reaches the limit of his thrusts and spills his seed into Julian. As his knees go weak and his weight starts to sag onto Julian, Jules reaches back and grabs a handful of Jeff’s hair and yanks. It holds him steady as Jeff’s limbs start to twitch after climax. It keeps him from falling down.

  After Jeff’s had a moment to recover, Julian reaches back to tap out, and Jeff stands and nearly reels back dizzily into the circle of onlookers, though he doesn’t connect with any of them. Julian stands up, straightens his outfit of straps, puts the whip around his neck like a scarf, and then turns to show his furiously blushing, dripping cock to Jeff and their audience. Jeff sinks to his knees, and Julian leans back against the table, looking nonchalant, like some burnished copper statue, though his organ must be aching to subside.

  “Crawl,” Julian commands, and Jeff obeys, his knees bruising against the disgusting painted cement floor. He reaches up when he’s between Julian’s legs, but only touches the table until he’s given permission for more. “Swallow it,” Julian says, and Jeff does. He opens his mouth and lets Julian slide down the back of his tongue carefully, eyes closed and breathing steadily to control his gag reflex. Julian then sets his hand on the top of Jeff’s head as if he’s blessing him, and then without warning he presses himself to Jeff, and Jeff to him, and his cum pulses through the muscular tube on the underside of his cock. Jeff feels it rise in gobs over his tongue and then feed into the back of his throat. Just like the one time he was hospitalized and had to swallow a camera snake to check for ulcers (it was just heartburn), Jeff knows what to do. Gagging will not be permitted, and so Jeff must swallow, and if it’s difficult to do so, then he must swallow harder, must accept was is being forced into him.

  And then Julian’s done. There’s some applause, light and fleeting, and the room quickly clears out before anyone can actually make any eye contact (heaven forbid), and Jeff and Julian are left alone again, under the spotlight.

  “Kiss me again,” Julian says, with a completely different intonation than his orders during their sexual performance.

  Jeff stands up and holds Julian to kiss him. He feels Julian’s legs and the straps of those heels wrap around his back and hold him close too.

  “I love you,” Jeff says when they break for air.

  “I love you, too,” Julian whispers, batting his eyelashes as he looks up at Jeff, those gleaming copper in the spotlight too. “I love you meeting me here, for embracing me like this.” He means it literally and emotionally. He means to say that he’s happy Jeff embraces all the strangest parts of him and wants to be held in return.

  Jeff just squeezes him tighter to thank him for that.

  14. Kevin Commands the Night

  The first thing Kevin has to do on the two-hour drive over to the place in New York state is marshal his seething anger at Alex, and then at Clarkie. Who knows what’s coming for them all and decides to keep it a secret? What the hell was wrong with Alex? And why, when Clarkie realized they’d all figured it out, why didn’t he hand over these maps and plans right away? Or when Kevin asked him if he remembered anything useful from Alex? What the hell is wrong with him?

  This anger doesn’t do anything productive, and so Kevin tries to shelve it for after they survive, if they manage it. Assuming they’re building a new small society in this mining structure, Kevin can try to elect himself elder and bring Clarkie in for questioning if he wants. He doesn’t really want to do that, become a dictator in a day, but he does wish he could understand what this kid was thinking, what made him hold back the one key to the door they needed to go through to survive.

  Because in all honesty, Kevin has been failing at his task for the past few days. Everyone else he delegated much easier jobs to: go shopping, don’
t be too obvious about it, bring stuff back to the house, super simple. Kevin kept the hardest job for himself because it was the most important one, but it turns out he hadn’t been looking in the right places, hadn’t been thinking outside the box. He was trying to find places that were built specifically for the bomb, and in finding a couple of those, he also found out that they weren’t going to work for the group. These were single family unit cells for people who didn’t seem to understand just how long it would take to be rescued because, duh, there would be no rescue. They’d have to live down there for a generation or two, so a box the size of a living room and one year’s supply of food wouldn’t cut it—might as well pop up topside and take a look at the wasteland since the other option is starving to death. Kevin was prepared to give up, he was starting to plan for the worst case scenario, that he’d have to lie to the people he loves most in the world and tell them to go to bed and set their alarms, knowing they’d never hear their alarms, because he was going to poison them at dinner so everyone could die in their sleep. Meanwhile the whole time Clarkie had the answers from Alex. Fucking Alex.