"C'mon Mark," Randall wheedles, pressing against the brunet. "Just once. I haven't gotten laid in, like, forever. Think of my dick, pumpkin!"
Mark rolls his eyes. "I'd really rather not think of your dick, Randall."
"But it thinks about you," the zombie murmurs, pressing even more against him, letting Mark feel his throbbing erection. "Yeah you like that don't you?" And Randall's hand slides down Mark's thigh, gently rubbing the brunet's cock.
"Just gotta get your pants off and then we can have some fun, pumpkin," Randall says, grinning as Mark's cock slowly starts to harden underneath his briefs.
"Randall!" Mark groans as the zombie's cold hard length presses against his thigh and his hands scrabble against Randall's shoulders.
Randall laughs and slowly thrusts into Mark's hips, ducking his head and licking up the brunet's neck.
Mark shivers at the contact and presses himself needily against Randall, begging.
"Please, Randall, plea-" Mark breaks off as he comes, soaking his thighs and Randall's hands with warm sticky semen and he blushes.
"Oh man, that that doesn't usually happen I am so sorry Randall let me get you a towel."
Randall coos. "Awww, pumpkin, it's okay. I can still fuck you. The Zomboner doesn't need anything other than a warm wet hole to pound."
Mark sighs, leaning his head against Randall's shoulder. "Gee, thanks, Randall."
Another laugh and Randall pins Mark to the wall of their apartment and runs a hand over Mark's semen-covered thighs.
"I'll just fuck you with your own come, pumpkin. Makes things easier."
"For who?" Mark gasps out as Randall enters him and begins to shallowly thrust.
"Well, me, naturally. Now hush up, Mark. I'm busy fucking you."
Mark sighs and lets Randall keep thrusting into him until the zombie finally pulls out, coming all over Mark's back.
"Randall! I need that shirt!"
"Relax, it can be cleaned. And you look good wearing my come."