Black Magic

I love this game, but I can't draw. So, next best thing: write! At least I can do that well... right?

5 days worth of on and off hammering; OC/Witch, without guro. Yes, it CAN be done.


-Four days after first infection-


The Hunter slammed down in an instant, too quick for Jacob to line up a shot when he wheeled around. The infected had already taken a half dozen swings by the time he could close the gap and loose a blast of buckshot into the thing's temple. He watched it sail off Courtney, slumping a foot or so away, then rushed to the girl's side.
What little knowledge he'd gained since the infection told him she was as good as gone; the Hunter had ripped a ragged hole in her chest, blood pooling around her in seconds. She looked up at him, in too much shock to feel the pain, just giving him this sad stare.
"Oh god..." he muttered, dropping the shotgun and fumbling for the medical pack strapped to his shoulders. She smiled up from the ground as he kept muttering "I'm so sorry," over and over in a frantic pace, fingers slipping as he opened the package.
She reached up, touching his arm, and managed a small, blood-gurgled chuckle before her body gave out.

Stunned, Jacob sat in silence for a moment, cold apathy washing away his fear once more. He closed his eyes, dropped the kit, and staggered to his feet. It was only a matter of time now.
He wandered up the path that would take him to Riverside, feeling the pulse in his veins killing him slowly. Right after the first outbreak, everyone had been amazed. You're alive! the group had clamored. My God, you're immune! I don't believe it! They'd given him a gun, asked him to tag along. They'd get out, Ryan told them. We'd be safe.
They were all wrong. Jacob knew better than anyone he was infected. He could feel it in his skin, his brain, every nerve in his body. The only questions left now were "when?" and "into what?" The only thing that had saved him so far was his immune system, tempered from years of swimming in filthy water and roughhousing as a child, but now, after four days of constant warfare, he could feel it giving out.

The casual clothing he wore was doing little to stop the night wind's chill. He considered just curling up and letting it happen... then again, that didn't seem too appealing. He remembered how all the others he'd seen got angry before they changed, thrashing around and foaming at the mouth for a few moments before it all went dark in their heads.
Yet, he'd never gotten mad over any of this. All he ever felt was this sense of emptiness, punctuated by the odd hope when other people were around. Jacob didn't think about it... that wouldn't do any good, anyway.
He stumbled from the caboose into the old, derelict train yard, pulling together an absent thought of why the place had been so empty. No infected, no people, just... bugs and grass.

Then, he heard it; a sad, distant wailing from somewhere deeper into the yard. He perked his bedraggled head up, peering out towards the dark. That sound was unmistakable.
The young man recalled one of those things, so gaunt and frail, shred all the meat from Zach's barrel chest in less than ten seconds, then scream and run off into the night. He didn't know if it was the same Witch, and he really didn't care.
Like a suicidal siren's song, the crying attracted him, for reasons he could not, or perhaps would not, comprehend. Staggering, stumbling, sprinting the rare times he could find his footing, Jacob followed the sobs, along the tracks, past the watchtower, up to the second floor of the station, and peeked into the office.

Huddled in the corner, she hid, rocking on her haunches and weeping loudly. The young man stepped into the door, and the infected girl turned in his direction, heaving and growling, shifting her weight like a crazed animal. He remembered this part too well; she stood, her taloned hands ready, searching for whatever fool had dared interrupt her wallow in self-pity-
Her glowing red eyes locked onto the doomed man's form, and, with a violent shriek, she dashed the few feet that separated them, raking her claws across his chest with enough force to hurl him into the railing, the breath rushing out of his lungs and his vision blurring on impact.
She yowled again, rushing up and crouching, her claws poised to strike... and stopped.

Jacob's sight returned to see the Witch hunched over him, looking at him with what may have been surprise. Even though her skin was deathly pallid and filthy, and her clothes little more than tattered rags, her face was screwed up in a semblance of childish wonder as her razor-tipped fingers poked his prone form with care. Moving slowly, the human tried to haul himself up to a sit; the infected shirked back a few inches, but returned quickly when he settled against the wood.
She pressed against him, arching her back to lay against his chest, and locked gazes with the stunned man. It was impossible to resist how alluring her face had become, her curiosity now overpowering the need to infect. Perhaps it was because he was infected already, or simple chance that spared him, but he didn't care about those details right now.

Now, he realized this Witch was different, and not by the way she was acting. This one was... cute. The one that attacked them before had been catapulted into the ugly tree by the epidemic, but this individual had retained some of her looks, at least for the moment.
The Witch leaned in, acting even more unexpected by getting close enough to touch the tips of their noses together, then placed her hands on his shoulders, shifting herself to straddle the young man's hips, and rested her forehead against his.
Jacob raised his own hands instinctively, wrapping the creature into a light hug. She reacted well to the motion, making a strange noise that might have passed for a coo, and resting her slim build against his frame more evenly, the bright red eyes drifting almost closed. The infected human ran his hand up and down the Witch's back, his own consciousness flitting away for a few moments.

Somewhere above, the heavens rumbled in displeasure at the pair, the ring of thunder rebounding off the nearby trains snapping Jacob's mind back to reality. Rain began to fall down on the tin roof, a soft patter that built slowly to a growl, with no signs of quieting down.
"Shit," he sighed, seeing the Witch's eyes flutter open as he spoke. "No good staying out here."
Struggling to regain his feet, the infected girl plopped onto the walkway as he rose, then looked up at him quizzically when he offered her a hand. After waiting for a moment, the young man sighed and crouched, lifting the Witch up in a bridal hold, and carried her into the office.
He let her legs down near the desk, only releasing the hold behind her shoulders when he was sure she could stand right. She teetered for a few seconds, still gazing at his in wonder when he turned his back, thinking about what he should do now... if anything at all.

The process was interrupted when the Witch's claws wrapped around his chest again from behind, and the creature lifted herself up just enough to nibble at his ear. Jacob held stock still, clearly confused, but far from worried, and let her continue.
She held tight, holding with her palms flat on his body to support her, and continued to suckle, washing the wet appendage in clouds of warm breath as her pulse began to creep up. Somehow, it wasn't the sudden burst of affection that captured the young man's attention; he could almost feel her need, her desire. Not just for simple interaction, but to HAVE someone, to not be alone.
The infected man pulled his head forward, away from her mouth, then turned to face her, gripping her shoulders and catching her gaze with his. Where anyone else would see blank, emotionless features, he could find something else under the surface, under the virus. Something human, yet still unnatural.

Something beautiful.

Rational thought was forced back as he leaned down to press his lips against her forehead, the warmth of her skin making a strange disjunction from its sickly pallor. The Witch's eyes fell half-closed as she pulled closer, tilting her face upwards, asking silently for something more.
He shifted his hands to embrace her, moving to kiss at the same time. Her lips parted eagerly- he almost swore he heard a giggle being cut off- and as it deepened, it was quickly apparent she still remembered something from her normal life. The shining red orbs fluttered, then went dark as she shut her eyes, melting into the kiss.
Jacob felt the points of her claws tapping along his back, not wanting to pull for fear of harming him, but the incessant tattoo up and down his spine was clamoring for more. He gripped her a little tighter, sliding his left hand below her waist to grope her ass through the threadbare panties she still wore. The squeeze promoted her eyes to shoot back open again and pull her mouth away, though a half-vicious, half-pleased look lit her features for a brilliant moment. She also reached down, returning the gesture in a childish sort of affirmation, grinding herself into the young man's groin in the process, very much on purpose.

He moved the other hand down as well, kneading the flesh for a moment before dragging them down a little more, rubbing the bridge between her two tunnels with a patient finger. The Witch obliged, spreading her legs to shoulder-width apart, then failed to hide a surprised gasp when the human placed a gentle bite on her collarbone as he moved his hand to feel her.
Again, she was emitting much more heat than anyone would suspect, especially down there. Even as he rubbed the bottom of her slit through the thin fabric, the warmth was surprising and inviting, not to mention the small amount of moisture that had begun to form. She wriggled a little in his grasp, reaching up just enough to tug at his jeans without ripping them.
Picking his head up from her shoulder, the young man shot the Witch a questioning look as she pulled again, slightly harder this time. She glanced down at his crotch, looked back up, and licked her lips, panting ever so slightly. Understanding, he took his hands away from her and pulled open the zipper, but didn't have the time to do much else. The creature pushed him back against the wall, pulled down the obstructing garment enough to free his erection comfortably, and knelt, taking it in her mouth.

Jacob was quite amazed that the infection hadn't given the Witch a maw of razor-tipped teeth to compliment her, but didn't have the will to muster a complaint as the infected girl began to suck.
She wrapped both her hands around his hips, ever mindful of her talons, lashing as much flesh as she could with her tongue as her lips pistoned back and forth, making more than a few audible slurps when her mouth opened. Her partner shuddered from a mixture of cold and pleasure, bracing his back against the wall and reaching down for the Witch's head, smoothing her hair gently and running his hands down her face. The corner of her mouth twitched twice, her chest shuddering with a weak, stifled laugh.
The young man resisted the urge to grab a fistful of the girl's hair, instead placing his hands flat against the wall and closing his eyes, groaning when she drug her teeth, twisted her tongue around, or otherwise teased his shaft.

They both felt his sack twitch after a few scant moments. It had been a while since he'd gotten his jollies off, but it felt like more was in play than just the time frame. It had to be something about her that was doing this, somehow, he just knew it... well, more like felt, since most thoughts had fled long ago.
Another rush of adrenaline had to be fought down, the want to simply force the Witch over and take her, here and now, being pressed back into a rather forceful thrust of his cock. This enticed the creature more, her pace quickening, her actions becoming wet, sloppy, and loud, clear enough to be told from the rain hammering down. He could hear her panting for breath right along with him between slathering licks, small vibrations from her throat resonating in his loins, trying to call his seed out by force of will.
Meanwhile, Jacob was trying his damnedest to keep hold of his arousal, savoring each pull, every lick, the next sweep of her lips. He cracked one eye to look down at his partner, finding an odd comfort in the focused, yet placid, face she wore. He glimpsed movement, one of her crimson-crusted hands trailing down his leg, brushing his balls, and slithering to her own groin. As the Witch rubbed herself as carefully as possible, the infected man found himself unable to stop his next action, moving the girl's head away and pulling her to a stand by her underarms.
A glint of fear crossed her face before he managed to rein in his fevered brain, unable to stop himself, but still holding shaky control. He forced his mind to see her concern and not throw her down, but kiss her again instead.

Relief flooded the creature's whole body, as she eased into the move and laid all her weight on her lover, closing her eyes and returning the act with as much fervor as it was given. The human didn't care if she had just been trying to suck the batter out of his pork straw, but he could still taste her, and he wanted more.
She realized this when he reached down to her ass again, sliding his hand down her underwear to grip her cheek, squeezing with due force. They both slid down the wall, mouths still interlocked, until the young man was sitting once more. The Witch pulled back, gave him a shove, and pounced back on top, kissing again for a brief moment. A flash of lightning illuminated half of her eager, demurely dangerous face.
During the exchange, Jacob slid a hand down her body, pushed her panties to one side, and ran two fingers along the infected girl's snatch. She yelped, squirming on top of him, and immediately tried to push herself down on the intruding digits. The young man clicked his tongue at her and shook his head, taking the chance to caress her ear before trying to shift her body around. Realizing what he thought, the girl's whole face lit up before scrambling to place her steaming slit above his waiting mouth, wasting no time in orally massaging his shaft once again.

The man's tongue darted out, gathering what little of her nectar that had seeped out, then locked his mouth over her clit, lashing away just as quickly as she was. The Witch shuddered and let out a muffled moan, her hips bucking at the touch until her partner grabbed hold of them and held her in place. Even still, the creature would spasm with every few licks, her wetness grinding against his chin as she fought against her own instincts.
Jacob could feel her struggling with herself, releasing her grip on his legs to dig her claws into the floor beside his hips, squashing her petite breasts against him to enhance the fellatio. Grinning, the infected man eased his hold on the Witch, shifted his weight, and splayed her nether lips with his right hand.
She wailed, shaking her ass at him, begging without words for the touch. Finally, with a victorious chuckle, he obliged, driving a finger in with almost no resistance, pulling a full-fledged moan from his partner. At this, the girl gave up entirely, panting and groaning, only pausing to move a taloned hand to grasp his length, stroking it eagerly.

The human worked her insides, using his hand and mouth to churn the Witch's libido into a frenzy, savoring not only the taste, but the feel and sound. Having her squirming in his hands, listening to her gasping and mewling louder than he'd ever heard one sound, had a very profound effect on his senses. They all felt deliciously muddled, akin to the feel of swimming at the edges of sensory overload, making every movement seem like another flirtation with disaster.
If laying on the floor, fingering a ravenous, petite killing machine didn't come off as a dance with Death itself, Jacob reasoned, then there wasn't much else that would.
The girl was shaking on top of him, teetering near the brink of orgasm, her every breath coming out as a shaky, alto squeak. He focused all his attention on her clit, capturing it between two fingers and setting his mouth directly on it, sucking and licking for all it was worth. He could practically feel her eyes shoot wide open as her thighs began to twitch, then shake, then spasm uncontrollably, a long and high-pitched scream of pleasure ripping out of her throat as the wave crested, her juices spilling out to coat her lover's face.
When the young man eased away after a few moments, the Witch shuddered as he cleaned the both of them off, using languid strokes while teasing her in such a hyper-sensitive state. Even so, her hips still twitched with each pass, a tired gasp creeping past her lips every time.

Outside, the rain fell. People turned, others died. Chaos reigned, and the infected began to mutate.
What remained of Jacob's mind stopped caring.

The Witch, his Witch, turned, squirming around atop him, laying her face next to his, holding him with more care than inhumanly possible. He stroked a lock of hair away from her face, clinging her midsection close to his own. She almost smiled and leaned down, her energy still too spent to kiss with fervor... but not without passion.
Her leg nudged his still-throbbing erection, to which he gave an almost pained hiss. His lover broke away, really giggling, and scooted herself down enough to rub her pussy against it, sliding along the shaft in half-time with his own pulse. It was clear she was trying to keep him going, and work herself up at the same time.
So far, it was doing just that. The infected man reached down to garb his partner's hips once again, squeezing her gently as she moved, and steadying her when she sat up on his groin. She looked down at him, eyes half-lidded with content, and continued to grind.
Not one to leave a lady hanging, Jacob reached under her shirt, easily palming her breasts, and teased the under-developed orbs with the same care she was showing him. The Witch cooed, smirking as her eyes shut yet again, and pressed harder into his body, letting his girth graze the inside of her tunnel, sometimes stopping to press the head in ever so slightly before sliding along it once more.

The creature could see the look of need she wore scant minutes ago reflected on the man she was riding, feeling the desire almost bubbling out of his skin. He opened his mouth, drawing in a breath, but the Witch placed a taloned finger over his lips before the words ever left his mouth. He blinked a few times, staring at her, decoding the soft smile on her face in his brain.
No more words, it seemed to say to him. You don't need them.
Jacob closed his mouth, nodding at her as he rationalized it all in his head. Yeah... why complicate things? he asked himself. She doesn't have to speak to tell me anything... neither should I.
Satisfied, the Witch lifted herself up, positioned her lips over his erection, and dropped down.

The pair gasped in unison, waiting for a handful of seconds to acclimate themselves to the feel of finally being intertwined. Smiling wickedly, the infected girl squirmed on her lover's cock, twisting her hips a few times before raising herself up to plunge down again.
Feeling that the clothes had finally become a hindrance, Jacob lifted the both of them up, with a surprised noise from his partner, to shimmy his pants down to roughly knee level. The Witch's next thrust was met with the ever-satisfying sound of flesh colliding with flesh.
Damn the rain, he half-thought as his lover worked him, damn the city, and damn the world. Each phrase was punctuated by a thrust, with each one earning a little more reaction from the Witch, who locked gazes with him, pulling his hands from her chest and doing her best to hold them.
You're all I need, the look he shot her said.
She beamed back down at him, knowing full and well he was very worked up from earlier, and in a single motion, pulled his weight to one side, reversing their positions. She wrapped her legs around him, forcing him to drill into her as hard as he could.

Go ahead, she intoned silently, let it out. We've got all the time we want to play...
The infected man knew he wouldn't be able to last for long, worried as he was about his own poor timing. But her looks reassured him; after all, this would hardly be the last time they'd have sex.
With a guttural growl/moan, the young man literally dug his fingers into the floorboards, gouging the faux wood panels for grip as he slammed their hips together, forcing as much of himself into her as he could, every stroke. His seed veritably boiled inside his sack, clamoring for release, demanding to be taken in by the lithe creature beneath him, who was all to eager to accept his semen. The Witch began to moan right along side him, and while her next peak was far off, she was doing everything in her power to puch her lover over the edge, clenching her folds as tight as she could, biting down on his shoulders, crying out directly into his ear.
She was transmitting her need, her lust, as best as she could. For anyone else, it wouldn't have made a difference, but for him, it was everything. Each scream and shudder nudged him one step closer, one more pace to his climax, until, finally, there was no more room to give.

No one who had known Jacob before would have recognized the raw, primal moan that erupted from his lungs. But to the only one he knew now, that sound meant the world, not to mention the feel of their consummation, his cum splattering inside her nethers, coating her womb with his essence. Warmth cascaded out from her belly as she cradled the convulsing figure, caught in the final throes of orgasm and humanity.
When the sporadic shaking halted, the Witch felt only slow, contented breathing from the weight above her. Soothed by his presence, she likewise drifted to sleep.


-Two weeks after first infection-


"Shit... you guys okay?" Francis asked over his shoulder.
A much older man hobbled up, flanked by their companions. "I think I'm goin' home in a box," he groaned, checking the clip in his assault rifle.
"Not if I have anything to say about it, Bill," Louis shot back, reloading his own rifle. "Just hang in there."
Zoey peered through the scope on the hunting rifle she carried. "Looks like a house up ahead. Let's go."

As the group moved up, they saw the house, much like the street they had just been down, was well and deserted. Francis lead them up to the porch, but Zoey charged up behind him, lowering the barrel of his auto shotgun with a panicked whisper.
"Goddamnit, wait!" she hissed, flicking the switch on her flashlight. "Something's in there!"
The biker rolled his eyes. "Something like what? Listen, unless it an 'effin'-"

Before he could finish, the lone figure the young woman had spotted plopped down in the living room on its haunches, and began to sob. Quickly, the men killed their flashlights, glancing into the door with fear.
"That is bullshit!" Louis whispered. "We should'a heard her halfway down the street!"
"Ah, shit," Bill grumbled, pulling the malatov from his belt. "This is gonna get ugly."
Francis rounded on the veteran in an instant. "Damnit, Bill, I'll piss her off. No sense your ass gettin' ripped open."
"Wait, guys!" Zoey pleaded, "there's got to be a way around!"

Somewhere close by, a low, threatening growl echoed through the shadows.
"Sounds like a Hunter," Louis stated, trying to look menacing as he scanned the open street.
"I don't think so," Bill corrected. "Didn't sound high enough."
Francis turned to Zoey, frowning. "Any ideas, miss vampire queen?" he asked.
The college student was too worried to correct her companion's lack of horror movie knowledge. "Hell if I know," she chose to say, trying to figure out a path that wouldn't get someone killed.
"We can't wait around," Louis told them, "or we're screwed. I say burn it."

No sooner had the words left his mouth did Louis see what their mystery guest was; weather beaten denims and tee on a deceptively average frame rushed up from the side of the house, one hand grabbing the lapels of the black man's shirt, the other pushing his gun away and holding it there. The other survivors turned to aim, but hesitated.
Scraggly, matted black hair covered the infected's face, save the two glowing red eyes that peered out at them all. Tense seconds passed, the group knowing that they couldn't afford to stay still much longer. Bill leaned himself on one of the support beams, trying not to bleed out.
"Louis?" Zoey asked.
"Shitshitshitshit," was all they heard out of him, forcing his panic down like bile.
Francis leveled his shotgun, grumbling, "Aw, screw this," as he took aim. The infected let go of Louis' shirt, only to lay his clawed grip on the man's throat instead.

"Shit!" he croaked, feeling the thing grab, but not constrict. "Don't shoot!"
"Francis, gun down!" Zoey said, lowering her own weapon.
The biker did a double-take, sputtering, "Are you NUTS?!"
The young woman shot him a "don't screw with me" look before sternly firing back, "Just do it!"
Francis saw Bill aim his rifle down, and, feeling outvoted, chose to only aim blindly at waist level. The infected saw them move, and gradually edged itself and Louis toward the door. It let the man go before stepping in, turning to face the sobbing Witch that blocked their path.

The thing knelt next to her, examining, then began to make quiet, comforting noises to the deadly creature. To the survivor's amazement, the Witch's head perked up not in fury, but joy, and embraced the other infected. Satisfied, the strange creature glanced over at the group, and angled its head out the back door.
"I think it wants us to leave," Zoey stated. She ushered the wounded veteran inside, but the Witch stayed put in its counterpart's arms, even though it sure as hell saw them.
"Louis, let's check back here real quick," Francis muttered, heading for the house's bedroom and bathroom. A few seconds passed, in which Louis gave a triumphant whoop, then wiped the smirk from his face when they noticed the Witch watching them all.
"First aid!" he intoned, filing out the door with the others, the kit held in his hands. "Hold up, Bill."


The pair of infected watched the survivors walk away, then a few minutes later, heard the loud report of the church bell, smelled the Boomer's bile, and several more minutes after, felt the rumbling of the Tank.
Was that a good idea? she asked, still very confused.
He nodded. I wasn't going to just let them kill you, his face replied.
The Witch scowled, You shouldn't have left to start with!
Her lover chuckled, taking care that short claws he'd developed didn't hurt her as he reached for her groin. It was worth it. You'll see.
She gasped as his fingers danced over her nerves, deft as ever, and smiled at him, already moving to bare her breasts. Prove it.