The police station was abandoned, as far as they could tell, and they welcomed the respite.
“I think we finally lost them,” Robb mutters, collapsing against a desk. Asha had provided them with an ample supply of ammo, but that had been almost two weeks ago and even that was starting to run low. When the last lot of walkers had given chase, the duo had thought it best to cut their losses and make a run for it rather than wasting valuable bullets.
“Thank Christ,” Theon breathes, slumping against a wall and surveying their surroundings. The station seemed relatively unscathed. Behind the desk Robb was leaning against lay a corpse but the fact that half the back of its head was missing reassured him that it wouldn’t be getting back up again. Opting out, they called it. Once upon a time, the smell would have gotten to Theon. Strange the things you get used to. Still, it didn’t make the gore clinging to his shirt any less disgusting and Theon whips it off with a look of distaste. “I’m gonna see if this place has a shower,” He’d seen the inside of a police station enough times in his life to know that most police stations had showering areas for their officers. “See if there’s any ammunition left lying around that the looters might have missed,” Robb makes some kind of noise that Theon could only figure suggested affirmation, and so he ventures off on his search.
He stumbled across the holding cells purely by accident. Morbid curiosity drew him to the bars, and he pressed his forehead against the cold steel. Maron had been serving life in prison when the infection broke. Wakefield had been an infected area – they hadn’t bothered to save the prisoners and who could blame them? He chews his lip wondering if he should care that Maron was most likely a walker by now. Try as he might, he can’t bring himself but think that it was better than the fucker deserved.
He senses Robb approaching from behind but doesn’t look around. Things have finally relaxed back into normal between the two of them. He guesses the end of the world has that effect on even the most strained of friendships.
“Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Theon grins fondly at the inside of the cell. “Remember that time we got held in a cell overnight for spray painting that house? Man, I thought your dad was gon-“
He cuts off at the feel of something metal snapping around his wrist.
Theon doesn’t have time to react. He whirls around to face Robb with a shocked look on his face, but Robb only uses this moment of surprise to his advantage, wrenching both of Theon’s arms over his head and then there’s another click and suddenly both of Theon’s wrists are restrained above his head. It takes him several more moments of shock to realise what the fuck just happened. Robb’s just handcuffed him to the fucking cell bars.
His chest just feels like it’s caved in.
Robb cuts him off again, crushing his lips against Theon’s in a bruising, unforgiving kiss. Theon tries to respond – too eagerly – but Robb isn’t allowing him anything, pushing him back against the prison bars and running his hands over the cobbles of Theon’s abs. Theon moans into Robb’s mouth – this has to be some kind of twisted dream, the kind that he wakes from the next morning frustrated and angry and oh so fucking aroused, but the cold metal that’s cutting into the skin of his wrists tells him that he’s wide awake and this is happening, this is really happening. He wants to stop, he wants to shove Robb off and ask him what he’s doing, you said stop before, he wants to know what Robb is thinking but that might ruin it and Theon doesn’t want to fucking think, he just wants – Robb pushes against him – he just wants this.
Robb is rubbing at his erection through Theon’s jeans, and Theon can feel Robb’s hard-on pressed up against his thigh as Robb bites and licks at his neck. He can’t take it. “Please,” he gasps, “let me touch you.” Robb simply tightens his teeth around his skin, hard enough to bring the blood to the surface, and undoes the fly of Theon’s jeans. He draws Theon out and wraps his hand around his cock and Theon is swearing and kicking his feet against the iron bars because Christ, that feels good and he’s pulling in vain against the cuffs restraining his hands, so hard that he’s sure they’ve already started to bleed. “Robb,” he hisses uselessly, and Robb just pulls back to give him a smirk that’s oh so very wicked and so very full of promise that Theon can’t help but moan again. Robb’s jerking him off now, and Theon is squirming and gasping in his grip – he’s dimly aware that they’re in public property and that it’s the middle of the zombie apocalypse and people or worse could storm down the door at any minute, but all of that feels so far away now – as if everything in the past couple of weeks has boiled down to the here and now and Robb Stark’s hand around his cock.
He bucks against his hand, pleadingly.
“Let me go,” Theon manages to gasp, but Robb is fucking merciless. He pulls Theon’s jeans and boxers down, so that they pool around his feet, and Robb is sinking to his knees and – oh fuck. His mouth is warm and wet around his cock and Theon feels like he might fucking die right there and then from the intensity of it all. He whimpers helplessly – because he is goddamn helpless, naked and trapped against prison bars – and thrusts his hips forward, pushing himself further into Robb’s mouth. It only serves to earn him punishing bruises on his hips as Robb’s hands squeeze them.
“Behave,” It’s the first thing Robb’s said since he began this – this what? – and it’s so stern that Theon’s afraid for a moment that he might stop. Turns out he’s nothing to fear, as Robb’s circles the head of his cock with his tongue, before slowly taking him all in. He sucks him off slowly at first, slow, making an effort to push as much of Theon’s cock into his mouth as he can without choking, then he picks up his pace, head bobbing as he meets Theon’s thrusts. Theon can’t take his eyes off him, his mouth around his dick, his thick eyelashes, and then Robb looks up at him beneath those fucking lashes and Christ. Theon bangs his head back against the bars, practically shouting in frustration at this stage. He can feel Robb smile around him, and he rewards Theon by moving a hand down from one of his hips to caress his balls. All of it is getting too much and then Theon is shouting, screaming his release – Robb grabs both his hips again to steady him and swallows it all.
Theon collapses back against the bars, too weak to stand anymore. His chest is heaving as the final waves of orgasm wash over him and Jesus fucking Christ, he’s shaking, his whole body engulfed in heavy shudders. Robb finally lets go of him, getting back to his feet and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The smile he gives Theon then is filthy. Theon’s suddenly all too aware of Robb’s erection still pressing furiously against Robb’s jeans. He still wants to do something about that.
“Now let me go,”
“Can’t. I don’t know where the keys are,”
Then he realises Robb isn’t joking.