Cyrus stared at the man's lips for what felt like minutes, reminiscing of the short, but tasteful kiss he planted upon them. So warm, plump and soft against his own. For a while, he said nothing. He was in complete disbelief. He was sure all of his friends had died when the world turned to a living hell. It was moments like this however, that made him realise how fortunate he was for having survived this long. It wasn't without its shortcomings, of course. A lot of battles, both living and dead, a lot of heartache and loss. All of that seemed to melt away as he held Ambrose's face between his large, roughened hands. When he finally laughed, it was a quiet chuckle and hoarse, the sound scraping up from deep in his chest, a sound that hadn't seen daylight in years. "I'm alive," he replied under his breath, as if for the first time—he actually believed it. The grip on the man tightened, only to make sure he was actually here, and most importantly, alive. His hand slid down to cradle the side of Ambrose's neck, thumb pressing lightly beneath his ear, rubbing the tender spot there. "I spent a long time convincing myself you weren't dead," he admitted, a glimmer of tears resting on the lower lid of his eyes.
He pulled back just enough to look at him properly, really look—his gaze tracing every familiar line, shaped by time and survival. Cyrus' eyes lingered on muscled arms, thick and dense thighs, he was already undressing him mentally. Even before the apocalypse, he had even admitted to Ambrose that he was attracted to him, and that one day, given Ambrose's willingness, Cyrus was more than happy to show him just how much. It hurt and healed him all at once, to know his friend was here, alive. His thumb brushed along Ambrose's jaw, slow and guided by the growth of facial hair, as if he were relearning the shape of him. "You look… incredible," he murmured, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. "Given the current circumstances."
Cyrus fought the need to lean back down, acquiring another kiss from him. "I'm sorry about the kiss... I guess I've been alone for too long." And while it wasn't unusual for them to make-out, prior to the end of the world, he didn't want to enforce or subject Ambrose to any type of discomfort. Even though they had fooled around a little in the past, it never went past touching and kissing, even when Cyrus would ache to penetrate. "Hey..." He stood upright, hands dropping down to his shoulders, distancing himself a little so as to not pressure him. "Come back with me." Though the worry of losing his one and only friend to the infected, it was better to have back-up should anything occur. "We can look out for each other... you know... have each others back. I'm holed up only a few blocks away from here. Got the place gated off. It's in an attic space, so you know nothing will bother us up there. I've got a mattress out on the floor and provisions to last me a couple of weeks between us." Cans of soup, canned beans, corn and fruit, honey, fruit he had picked from trees during his travels and a few dozen boxes of mac & cheese. He even stashed a few granola and chocolate bars under the floorboards; such rare items needed another layer of protection. Aside from that, he had a decent load of beef jerky and dozens upon dozens of bottles that he had filled with rainwater to consume. And as for medical provisions, he had an array of plasters, aspirin and other painkillers, ointments and sewing kits. He was prepared; even as far as having a shelf dedicated to personal hygiene: bars of soap, shampoo and bodywash, body wipes and hand sanitisers, paper towels, deodorant and toothpaste. Just because the world had ended, didn't mean his sense of hygiene had to stop.
"What do you say, Amb? You'll be able to rest for as long as you like, knowing you're safe, your belly is full and you'll be looked after." Hoping that it could come as persuasion, his hands dropped from his shoulders and settled across his hips. With a light tug, he pulled the man closer to him out of necessity, out of desire. Cyrus, with his immense height, leaned back down, nose affixed to the side of Ambroses', lips an inch away from his. "Please." His tone sounding defeated, desperate. "I don't want to be alone anymore."
