M☆RK'S BLOG

There was always something to do. Water to carry. Clothes to wash. Food to sort through. People were already stretched thin enough, and you hated the thought of being one more thing for everybody to worry about.

So you tied your hair back, pulled on your boots, and pretended your hands weren’t shaking.

You made it almost an hour before Daryl noticed.

He was sitting near his bike, cleaning dirt from one of his bolts, when his eyes caught on you. You were stood by the water buckets, one hand pressed lightly against the side of your head like you could hold yourself together if you just applied enough pressure.

His gaze narrowed.

“You alright?”

You straightened too fast. The world tilted for half a second.

“Yeah,” you said, voice coming out rougher than you wanted. “I’m fine.”

Daryl didn’t move at first. He just looked at you in that quiet way he had, like he was reading all the things you were trying not to say.

“You don’t sound fine.”

You forced a small laugh and reached for one of the buckets. “That’s because you’re dramatic.”

“Mhm.”

You managed about three steps before your grip slipped. The bucket hit the ground with a heavy splash, water spilling into the dirt around your boots.

Daryl was up before you even had time to swear.

“Hey.” His voice sharpened as he crossed the space between you. “The hell are you doin’?”

“I dropped it,” you muttered, bending down.

He caught your arm before you could grab the handle.

You looked up at him, ready to argue, but his expression shifted the second his hand touched your skin.

His brows pulled together.

“You’re burnin’ up.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m just warm.”

“It’s freezing.”

You glanced away, annoyed because he was right and even more annoyed because he knew he was right.

Daryl let go of your arm, but he didn’t step back. “Go lie down.”

“I’m fine, Daryl.”

He scoffed under his breath. “Stop bein’ stubborn.”

“I’m not being stubborn. I’m helping.”

“You’re about to fall on your ass in the middle of camp.”

You rolled your eyes, but the movement made your head throb. You tried to hide the wince. Of course, he saw it.

His jaw tightened.

“That’s it,” he muttered.

Before you could ask what he meant, he grabbed the bucket with one hand and nudged you gently but firmly in the direction of the house.

“Daryl-”

“Walk.”

“I don’t need to be babysat.”

“Then quit actin’ like a damn child.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder. “You’re very comforting, you know that?”

“Good. Maybe you’ll listen.”

You wanted to argue again, mostly out of pride, but your body had started giving up on you. Every step felt heavier than the last, and by the time you reached the spare room, your legs were shaking badly enough that Daryl had to put a hand at your back.

Not pushing. Not rushing.

Just there.

You sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, trying to make it seem casual.

Daryl stood in front of you, arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed.

“Boots off.”

You blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Boots. Off.”

“You’re bossy when you’re worried.”

“I ain’t worried.”

“Right.”

He looked away too quickly.

You smiled a little, though it faded when another shiver rolled through you.

Daryl noticed that too.

He crouched down without saying anything and tugged at the laces of your boots. You watched him quietly, your fever making everything feel soft around the edges. The room, the light through the window, his hair falling into his face as he worked.

He pulled one boot off, then the other, setting them neatly beside the bed like it mattered.

“You eat today?” he asked.

You hesitated.

His eyes lifted.

“That means no.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Course you weren’t.”

He stood and grabbed the blanket from the chair, throwing it over you with less care than he clearly meant to. It landed half across your shoulder and half across your face.

You pulled it down with a weak laugh. “Trying to smother me?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

But his voice was softer now.

He disappeared for a few minutes, and you told yourself you were only going to rest your eyes until he came back.

Then you woke up to cool water touching your forehead.

You flinched slightly.

“Easy,” Daryl murmured.

The room was darker now. You didn’t know how long you’d been out, only that your clothes were sticking to your skin and your head felt like it was full of smoke.

Daryl sat beside the bed, one elbow on his knee, a damp cloth in his hand. There was a small bowl of water on the floor beside him, along with a cup and what looked like the sad remains of some soup Carol had probably forced into his hands.

“You’re still here?” you whispered.

He glanced at you. “Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere useful.”

His face tightened at that. “Ain’t useless.”

You looked at him for a moment.

He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Daryl dipped the cloth back into the water, wrung it out, and placed it across your forehead again. His fingers brushed your temple, rough but careful.

You closed your eyes.

“That feels nice,” you admitted quietly.

“Fever’s high.”

“You been checking?”

“Had to. You were mumblin’.”

Your eyes opened. “What was I saying?”

“Bunch of nonsense.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He shrugged, but there was the smallest hint of amusement in his face. “Said somethin’ about Rick’s hat lookin’ stupid.”

You let out a breathy laugh, which turned into a cough.

Daryl leaned forward instantly, one hand hovering near your shoulder like he wanted to help but wasn’t sure how to do it without making a whole thing of it.

You waved him off once it passed. “I stand by that.”

“Yeah, well, don’t say it in front of Carl.”

You smiled faintly, but the tiredness was already pulling at you again.

Daryl noticed. He always noticed.

“Drink.”

You made a face.

“Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face did.”

He helped you sit up enough to take the cup. You tried to hold it yourself, but your hands were unsteady, so he kept his fingers around it too, pretending he wasn’t basically helping you drink water like you were made of glass.

It should’ve embarrassed you.

It didn’t.

Not really.

Not with him.

When you were done, you sank back down into the pillow, exhausted from doing almost nothing.

Daryl adjusted the blanket around you. Again, not gently at first glance. But he tucked it close around your sides so the cold air couldn’t get in.

“You don’t have to stay,” you murmured.

He sat back in the chair, stretching one leg out. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“You’ll get sick.”

“Had worse.”

“That’s not comforting either.”

“Go to sleep.”

You turned your head slightly, watching him through half-open eyes. He looked tired. More tired than he’d ever admit. His shoulders were tense, his fingers tapping against his knee, his gaze flicking from your face to the cloth to the window and back again.

Pretending he wasn’t worried sick.

You knew better.

“Daryl?”

“What?”

“You’re being nice.”

He scoffed. “Fever’s makin’ you delusional.”

“No,” you whispered, smiling faintly. “You’re always nice. You just make it weird.”

He looked at you then, properly. For a second, all the gruffness slipped. His eyes softened in a way that made your chest ache more than the fever did.

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, looking down. “Somebody’s gotta keep you from dyin’ over a damn cold.”

You hummed. “So dramatic.”

“Sleep.”

This time, you listened.

You drifted in and out for the rest of the night. Sometimes you woke to the cloth being changed. Sometimes to Daryl shifting in the chair. Once, you woke to him standing by the window, crossbow in hand, checking the dark outside like your fever was something the whole world might try to take advantage of.

Each time, he came back.

Each time, the cloth was cool again.

At some point near dawn, when the sky had gone pale and the worst of the heat had finally started to break, you opened your eyes and found him sitting on the floor beside the bed, his back against the wall.

His head had tipped forward slightly, eyes closed, arms folded over his chest.

He’d fallen asleep sitting up.

You watched him for a while, too weak to move, too warm in a different way now.

“Daryl,” you whispered.

His eyes opened immediately.

He looked at you like he’d been awake the whole time.

“You okay?”

You nodded a little. “Think so.”

He leaned forward and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Then your cheek. His expression loosened by the smallest amount.

“Fever’s goin’ down.”

“Told you I was fine.”

He gave you a look. “Don’t push it.”

You smiled.

He reached for the cloth again, but you caught his wrist lightly before he could move away.

“Thank you.”

Daryl froze for half a second.

Then he shrugged, like he hadn’t spent the whole night beside you. Like he hadn’t checked on you every time your breathing changed. Like he hadn’t looked scared when he thought you weren’t awake enough to see it.

“Ain’t nothin’.”

Your fingers slipped from his wrist, but he didn’t move back right away.

His hand stayed near yours on the blanket.

Close enough that your pinky brushed his.

Neither of you said anything.

Then he cleared his throat and stood, grabbing the bowl of water like he suddenly had a very serious job to do.

“Gonna get you more water. Maybe somethin’ to eat.”

You settled back into the pillow, smiling to yourself.

“Bossy,” you murmured.

He paused at the door and glanced back.

“Stubborn.”

Then he left before you could see him smile.

“No, d-don’t stop. Please.”

“Are you gonna be quiet or not? I don’t need the whole house knowin’ that we’re fuckin’.”

“Let ‘em hear. I don’t give a fuck.”

Jesus, he was acting ridiculous. You ran your free hand down your face and shook your head. At this rate, you weren’t ever going to let Daryl finish. You took a moment and thought about how to handle this. That’s when the idea hit you. You were sitting next to him on the bed, so you wrapped your arm around his shoulders and covered his mouth. Of course, this resulted in Daryl licking your palm. Even though you were annoyed, a startled laugh escaped you, and you smacked his thigh with your other hand.

“Do not lick me, you little shit. Just be good and I’ll let you come.”

Despite wanting to continue his antics, Daryl really wanted to find that release. He shifted his hips and nodded. His voice was muffled by your hand, but you could still understand him.

“M’gonna be good.”

Satisfied with his answer, you nodded and began stroking him again. Daryl instantly melted into your side. His whimpers were stifled by your hand, and you added to his overstimulation by kissing his neck. He was writhing beneath your touch and gasping softly. You could tell that he was getting overwhelmed because his eyes were welling up with tears. This resulted in you gently teasing him.

“Oh, baby. Are you gonna cry?”

Daryl huffed softly and blinked hard. Tears had started rolling down his cheeks, and you quickly kissed them away. You tormented him for a few more seconds before speaking softly.

“You wanna come, baby? You’re bein’ such a good boy.”

He nodded eagerly and squirmed under your hand again. Daryl just couldn’t stay still. His breathing was ragged, and he looked at you with pleading eyes. You smiled at the sight of him looking so wrecked and gave in.

“Okay, baby. You can finish.”

That was all it took for his entire body to tremble, and ropes of semen leaked from his cock. You kept working Daryl through his orgasm and muttered praises.

“That’s a good boy.”

You removed your hand from his mouth and watched as his chest heaved. Daryl wiped at his own tears and mumbled between his choked gasps. He was repeating the same thing over and over again.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Once Daryl had a moment to calm down, you pressed a softer kiss to his lips and stroked his hair with your clean hand. He leaned into your touch and steadied his breathing. His expression was slightly sheepish, and it was obvious that he was embarrassed by his behavior. You immediately reassured him.

“Thank you for correctin’ that attitude. Can I clean you up, now?”

“Yeah. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Grabbing a rag from the nightstand, you wiped him up and cleaned your own hand. You wanted to do more, though. Finished drying his skin, you shifted on the bed and examined the sheets. They weren’t too dirty, so you’d only have to remove the top sheet. You lightly nudged him and spoke again.

“Let’s get this sheet off, and I’ll run you a bath.”

“A bath?”

“Yeah, I gotta take care of my man.”

Daryl’s cheeks flushed pink, and he gave you a chaste kiss. You smiled against his lips and helped him out of the bed. His legs felt like jelly, and he leaned heavily on you. Leading him to the bathroom, you sat him on the closed toilet lid and ruffled his hair. The tenderness you were feeling was evident in your voice.

“I’m gonna run the bath and get rid of that dirty sheet. You just wait here.”

“Okay.”

He nodded obediently and admired you as you ran the bath. The steam from the hot water filled the air. You gave him another small smile and left the room. After the sheet was put into the hamper, you returned to the bathroom and saw that Daryl was right where you left him. He grinned sleepily at you and spoke quietly.

“You wore me out, darlin’.”

“Yeah? Well, I better get to washin’ you up.”

You helped your exhausted boyfriend out of his clothes and turned off the faucet. The bathtub was filled and ready for Daryl to soak in. You were about to lower him into it when one of his strong hands gripped your wrist. His words were slightly slurred with both intoxication and fatigue.

“Get in with me. Please.”

“Alright, baby. I’m gonna get you in first, and then I’ll join you.”

Getting Daryl submerged in the water, you stepped back and stripped your clothes. His gaze roamed over your figure, and he sighed contentedly. He just had to voice his affection.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you, baby. Lean forward and I’ll climb in behind you.”

Once you were settled behind Daryl, he leaned against you and rested his head on your chest. Your fingers instinctively ran through his dark hair, and you kissed the top of his head. The two of you would spend the next hour in the tub before going back to bed. He mumbled a sleepy ‘love you’ before drifting off.

Once you finally make him understand that you want the same thing, he still feels a little bit insecure. You found a nice place, just around the corner of the cellblock. Safe from walkers, far enough from the others as not to be interrupted.

He's tense anyway. You can feel the strain in his muscles when you put your hands on his shoulders. Threatening to snap any second and move quickly, either to run away or fight and protect you. That won't be necessary though. It took some convincing, but you got him to put his crossbow onto the ground and stop looking out for possible threats.

How? Well, it wasn't all that difficult. Turns out, pushing him against a stone wall and stepping real close has him putty in your hands in no time.

It's a good thing there's fences, because your face is very distracting. If there had been a walker approaching the two of you, he wouldn't have noticed it until it bit him, maybe not even then.

Daryl is still nervous, you can see that. Unsure of where to put his hands, he awkwardly places them on your hips. Is that too straightforward? A million thoughts rush through his head. You give him a soothing smile. He tries to return it, but ends up just grimacing.

Deciding to end his misery, you lean in and give him a gentle kiss on the lips. He's a little bit relieved when you don't do anything more immediately. Those are a safe ground, he's used to having you kiss him like that. And yet... they always leave him wanting more.

You haven't moved away, instead hugged him a bit closer. God... it feels too good to have you this close without the fear of being caught. He was worried he'd overwhelm you, but you seem at ease. If he's being honest with himself... It's he who is in over his head. You're so close and you smell nice... He can feel your heart beat against his chest, smaller body pressed into his.

You left him space, but it doesn't take long for him to act. His warm hands stroke your back, then he places one in the nape of your neck, carefully tugging on your hair. You lift your head that had been resting against his leather jacket, and before you can say anything, his mouth is on yours.

It's a chaste kiss at first, like the one you gave him. Not hesistant, not really, but careful. He isn't sure how far you were willing to go but when he doesn't feel you pull away, he feels confident enough to continue. Parts his lips slowly, experimenting a little bit. He angles his head slightly different then, making it easier for you to reach him. You open yours too, allowing his tongue to slip inside. It feels amazing. Daryl wishes he'd done this sooner, 'cause apparently, you don't mind him being out of practice.

No, even better, you seem to actually enjoy it, arms around his neck, pushing him back into the cold wall. What really does it for him though is the little sounds you make. They're pretty, like everything about you. Quiet, but not shy. You like what he's doing and that motivates him a lot.

He wants to hear it again. Parts from you for a split second to catch his breath, then dives in again, and it's messier this time. His lips slant against yours, a little dry and rough just like him and he licks into your mouth. It's a stark contrast to the earlier restraint but you're not complaining, no. You're far from it as he bites your lower lip, not quite enough to make it bleed, resulting only in a small sting.

A strand of his hair falls into your face, tickling your cheek, but you don't mind, not when he's kissing you like this. It probably looks like he's eating your face off. He's clumsy but eager, nose bumping into yours. His stubble is scratchy but it feels good against your skin, this is fun. Your smile into the kiss.

His hands come up to your face, cupping your jaw carefully, as if to make sure you won't pull back. You couldn't if you tried to, with the iron grip he has you in. Good thing you don't want to. Instead, you match Daryl's enthusiasm, kissing him hard. You press him into the wall, caging his body against it. If someone saw that... No, you probably wouldn't even do anything about it. Wouldn't have it in you to care and stop, it feels way too good.

Meanwhile, Daryl is ecstatic. He hasn't ever felt this good just kissing anyone! Actually, he used to not even like it very much. Maybe that's because he didn't know you back then. He is the one that's overwhelmed now, overcome with passion. His chest rises and falls quickly, he pulls back for a second, allowing you both to catch your breath. He takes in the sight of you, and it's almost enough to have him do something else to you on the spot. You look incredible, lips swollen from the kiss, eyes hazed over with want. He probably isn't any different. And then you give him that smile, the one he dreaded back when you weren't together because it made him forget about that fact. Now, it's his favorite thing in the world (apart from kissing you).

His eyes soften, thumb stroking your cheekbone. He's glad you got him him to try this. Though you're gonna have to deal with him wanting to do it all the time, now. His heart warms at the thought. He leans in to kiss you again, not as gentle as in the beginning but just as loving. Before he can deepen it, you pull back slightly, just enough to flash him a teasing grin.

"You're really getting better at this, you know!"

"Shut up." He swallows your giddy laugh, pulling you into his arms.

Daryl strutted across the community looking for you, ignoring the smirks and smug looks from other members of the community who recognized you and Daryl's relationship.

"Lookin' for your girl?" Rick's voice echoed across the lawn as he leaned over his porch railing. Rick could hardly believe how positively whipped Daryl was. Searching for you like a lost puppy.

Daryl nodded, adjusting the strap of his crossbow as he glanced up at him. "Ya' seen her? Supposed to be back by now."

You had told Daryl you were going to ask Maggie about something. He wasn't really paying attention to your words as much as he was staring at your features in a way that was more perverted than he'd like to admit.

"She's at the gate. Last I saw her, she was talkin' to Eugene". Rick eyed Daryl's reaction while suppressing a laugh.

Daryl's jaw clenched tightly as he ran a hand through his hair. The mention of that man's name made his blood boil.

Everybody knew that you and Daryl were dating.

Everybody except for Eugene.

"Talkin' about what?" Daryl asked Rick, desperately trying to save himself from having to walk over there and breathe the same air as him.

"Oh, I couldn't tell ya' Daryl. Gonna have to find out yourself." Rick snickered to himself, knowing full well what the conversation was about.

Daryl huffed and turned away, fists clenched as he strutted down the road to the gates.

"Like I said, that sorghum would really do us good. I know sorghum, and you're resourceful. Maybe we could do this together." Eugene was talking to you about the potential of a crop that he had found in the area.

But that wasn't what Daryl saw.

Eugene was too close.

His shoulder was nearly touching yours as he showed you some kind of paper with information on it, eyes raking over you with oblivious confidence.

Saying nothing as he approached, Daryl's boots alerted you of his presence, the heavy stomp making you smile. "Hey." Your eyes met his, and you could sense the anger radiating from him.

Daryl just gave you a nod and ran his hand over yours, a small but warm gesture that reminded you of how he showed affection in the early days of Alexandria.

Daryl moved in between you and Eugene, his eyes remaining glued to Eugene's boyish smile as he was chatting with you.

"What'cha got there?" Daryl pointed to the paper. "Something you wanna share?"

"Oh yes, I was just making plans with Y/n to go check out those sorghum plots I found a few miles from here." Eugene shoved the paper into his pocket as if it were a secret between you two.

As if Daryl wasn't allowed to see it.

Asshole.

You picked up on the one-sided tension right away, Daryl's breathing heavier now as if deep breaths were not going to be enough to wash away his rage. "What Eugene means to say is that I'm going on a run with him to go see it."

Oh, that was it.

Daryl felt his blood run hot with anger he didn't want to place. Jealousy, rage, whatever the hell it was.

"I'll come too, ya' need extra hands." Daryl insisted he come along, the idea of going alone with this guy making his head spin.

Satisfaction rushed through his chest when Eugene visibly deflated at Daryl's participation. "Just thought it could be Y/n and me on this endeavor." He mumbled like a pouting child.

"An' what if walkers rush ya'? Ain't gonna be able to fight em' all." Daryl crossed his arms, not missing the way your eyes flickered to watch his biceps.

"Oh, you underestimate Y/n, she's more than capable." Eugene flashed you a confident smile.

It would have been heartwarming if you weren't his.

"You're so sweet, thanks, Eugene!" You gently shoved Eugene's shoulder, relishing in the way that you could practically see the smoke coming out of Daryl's ears.

Eugene grabbed a duffel bag and glanced between you and Daryl. "I assume y'all need to grab necessities. We'll leave in about an hour?"

Daryl was about to interrupt and shut down this entire plan. But you spoke first.

"Sounds good!" Hand clasping onto Daryl's broad shoulder, you gently dragged him away from the conversation with Eugene.

Daryl's whole body was tense, brimming with utter frustration from watching a man who had no idea how to treat you right.

"Alright." You let out a quick sigh. "What's your problem?" You bit back a smile at his obviously jealous behavior. Daryl was fuming. His eyes were staring daggers into Eugene's soul.

"Don't got one." He shrugged, clenching his teeth when Eugene snuck glances your way.

"You're so jealous. Ya' gonna shoot him while we're out there?" You were joking, but then you backtracked your words when Daryl grunted.

"Might. Depends on what that dumbass tries." Daryl huffed.

Shortly after collecting the necessities in your shared apartment for the trip outside the gates, Daryl felt the pent-up jealousy fill up.

Ready to boil over.

The anger wasn't directed at you. Because it wasn't your fault. But Daryl knew that you were thoroughly enjoying teasing him because of the constant knowing smile plastered upon your face while he was getting ready.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer." Daryl was the one pouting and sulking now. You rolled your eyes as you walked over to him.

You placed your hands on his jawline and watched as he visibly relaxed. His eyes tracked yours, flickering over your features as if he were memorizing them. "You gotta be nice today." You hummed.

Daryl just grumbled in response, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly. He buried his face into your neck, letting out a heavy sigh.

What a grump.

After driving out a few miles, you made it to the sorghum processing plant, eager to see what Eugene was ranting about. Daryl had forced Eugene to drive so that he could keep an eye on him.

Exploring the abandoned plant, there were several viable resources that you could bring back to the community. Farming machinery was scattered around, waiting to be collected.

"Y/n, would you mind reaching in here to take a look at this engine? Seems perfectly suited for our food conundrum." Eugene called you over to what looked like a tractor of some kind.

You stepped up onto the wheel of the machine and bent over to glance into the large engine. Truth be told, you had little knowledge of cars and machinery. But, you were a little concerned about letting Daryl get too close to Eugene.

Daryl watched the situation, his eyes falling to your ass as you stretched over the side of the machine to glance at the engine.

And then he froze.

Eugene was looking too. Unashamedly and with hunger.

He could have shot him where he stood. God, he wanted to. Instead, his boots slammed against the concrete as he made his way over to Eugene.

"You'd best keep your eyes off." Daryl pointed a finger in his face, the warning crystal clear to Eugene.

After all, he had no idea that you were in a relationship with Daryl.

Hearing the rising tensions, you quickly popped up and shut the hood. "Looks good! We'll get somebody to help us move it in the next few days."

Jumping down from the machinery, you placed a hand on Daryl's chest. "Daryl and I will check these shelves over here if you want to go see what kind of provisions they have here." You spoke to Eugene, your finger absentmindedly drawing circles on Daryl's vest.

"Yes, ma'am. Y'know, a woman of your caliber really should have more authority around the community. Been doin' a fine job leading so far." Eugene offered you a smile before walking over in the direction you gave him.

Daryl clenched his jaw, staring off into the distance with furrowed brows. You looked up at him and snickered, hand leaving his chest as you walked over to the shelves.

You rifled through items that could be of use, searching for supplies that would benefit Alexandria. A shuffling sound from behind you made you smirk. "Can't stay away, huh?"

Daryl took a quick glance around to make sure nobody was looking. Then, his hands snaked around your hips, firmly pulling them back to press against him. "Ya' think this is funny, don't ya'?" His voice was a whisper as he pressed kisses to the back of your neck.

"Think it's funny to rile me up?" One hand ran up your shirt to feel your bare skin, the other kept you pressed against him.

"Daryl-" you whined. "He could see us!"

"Good-" Daryl sucked on your neck, leaving a prominent mark where his lips were. "Let him see."

You couldn't even focus on looking for anything; the heat of his body against yours, pushing you into the shelving, drove you insane.

"But we haven't told him about us-" Your words became a quiet moan as his hand traveled down to your clothed cunt, pressing his rough hands into the spot where you wanted him most.

"What's the big deal, sugar? S'the best way to tell him." Daryl's mind was spinning, rage and lust mixing up inside of him to the point where all he could do was manhandle you with the hopes that he could get his message across.

With one hand, Daryl unbuttoned your jeans. "Daryl, no, he'll catch us." Daryl paused at your words.

"You want me to stop?" He kissed your neck, his hand gently waiting for your response.

Taking a beat to look around, you realized that Eugene was nowhere to be seen. That was enough for you.

"No." You put your hand on his, leaning your head back to fall on his shoulder.

With your permission, his hand slid down your jeans, breath hitching at the feeling of lace underneath. "Ya' gonna show these to me later, huh?" He ran his fingertips over the fabric, sending a rush of heat down to your core.

A whimper escaped your mouth at his actions, and all you could offer him was a pathetically desperate nod.

"Good girl." Daryl's voice could've made you hit your climax right then and there, the raspy voice whispered quietly in your ear.

With two fingers, he slid your panties to the side gently. Daryl didn't even care what was happening outside the corner of this factory; his thoughts consumed by your trembling frame in front of him as his fingers teased you.

His fingers finally reached where you wanted them, slowly stroking your clit. "Fuck, this is crazy-" you moaned against his shoulder silently.

"Been teasing me all fuckin' day." He grunted against you. "Gonna show ya' who can treat you like ya' deserve." His stubble pressed against your neck as he pressed soft kisses, contrasting the way his left hand was holding your hips tightly.

He slipped one finger in, watching the way you bit back a muffled moan, your hips grinding down onto his hand as he thrusted at a consistent pace.

"Daryl please-" You shut your eyes tightly as he caught onto your need, your desperation, by adding another finger.

"Shh, I got ya'." His left hand was splayed across your torso, pressing into you as his right hand was reached around you, fingering you with his middle and ring fingers.

It was all too much. The stakes, the possibility that Eugene might just turn the corner and see Daryl's hand down your pants, making you fall apart on his fingers.

His breath tickled your neck as his breathing became heavier. "So pretty-" he let out a low hum when you pressed your hips backward into his crotch.

Your legs felt like jelly as he thrusted impossibly faster into your cunt, his thumb occasionally rubbing your clit. "Daryl-" you gasped as he adjusted his hand to get a deeper angle, hitting your spot with ease.

"S'That where you want me, sugar?" He smirked at your reaction.

"Yes!" You grabbed onto the shelf in front of you to ground you. "Fuck right there, please." You were so goddamn close, the adrenaline from the whole scenario only further leading you to your climax.

Your orgasm hit you hard, sending waves of pleasure through you as Daryl kept going, working you through it.

"Fuck-" Daryl was breathing hard now at the sight of you, fighting his hardest to keep his own arousal at bay.

Still shuddering from your powerful orgasm, clanking could be heard not far from the two of you. Daryl slowly removed his hand, his touch lingering on you before he finally pulled away.

It was Eugene coming back with bags of seed and other items. "Found some provisions that would benefit our community to the highest extent."

You were leaning against the shelving, your face flushed and your clothing an absolute mess. "Feelin' alright, Ms. Y/n?" Eugene had no idea.

"Yeah-I." Your eyes met Daryl, who threw you a wink as he walked away from the conversation. "Just feelin' a little weak. Might be time to head back home." Thank god for Eugene's gullible nature in that moment.

Standing behind Eugene's back, Daryl stared you down with hunger in his eyes as he licked his fingers.

Fuck.

Now, you could understand it a little bit better. The sun was beating down on the RV, heat making it almost unbearable to stay out in the open. Luckily, it would get colder soon.

It wasn’t too bad sitting here in company. From what you could gather, Dale had an amazing taste in books. Came with 65 years of reading, probably. He seemed happy that you could match his impressive literary knowledge, allowing for a nice talk.

It really wasn’t so bad up here if you had company.

It made you think about what it would be like to keep watch with Daryl.

The redneck had occupied your thoughts for a while. Since his dedication in the hunt for Sophia, to be exact. He was incredible at tracking, and still, it didn’t amount to the end everyone had wished for Carol.

Of course, Carol was devastated. Pretty much everyone was. The search had been a reason to keep going, even though deep down, it was clear to you all that you had been chasing a shadow. Now that it was over, morale was at an all time low. Some doubted Rick’s leading abilities, and tension arose within the group.

It made sense that everone was affected. However, no one seemed to see the effect that this failure had on Daryl. Either that, or they simply didn’t want to. He made it easy for them to ignore him, avoiding the group in general. Kept himself holed up in his one man tent further away from the rest of the group. And that after he took a bullet, too.

You’d think he’d admit his vulnerability and accept help, but since the second he was allowed to get up after the wound was tended too, he hadn’t been back. Andrea had come to apologize, Lori had brought him food, even Carol had come by, but none of them had managed to get more than a few words out of the man.

While you understood that he was frustrated and angry at himself, you were determined to coax him out of his hardened shell.

How? Well, you had a reason now.

That was at least what you told yourself as you made your way to his tent.

Your dedication diminished with every step you took. Standing directly in front of it, you weren’t even sure if you should go inside anymore. Maybe you were overstepping. Maybe he would throw you out and feel even worse after you had talked to him.

About to turn around and forget about the whole thing, you flinched when you heard rustling inside of the tent and finally, its zipper being pulled down.

You were met with the sight of Daryl, resting on his cot inside the tent. He lowered his arm and raised a brow, seemingly surprised at the sight of you.

“What d’ya want? I can hear ya shufflin’ 'round, y’know. Didn’t shoot me, ain’t got nothin’ ta apologize for.”

You straightened, looking a little sheepish as you shook your head.

“I know. Look, I was gonna leave, but— I thought you could use a distraction. Must be boring being stuck here all day.”

He hummed. “S’pose.”

That wasn’t a direct rejection, so you pulled yourself together and kneeled down at the tent’s entrance. Threw him an experimental smile, not hesistant, but not confident either.

“Right. That’s why I wanted to give you this. There isn’t exactly much else to do in here.”

You held out your hand, offering him the book.

He eyed it, then glanced up at you. Seemed wary, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of the gesture. “A book?”

You nodded. “What, never seen one before?”

It was supposed to sound light-hearted, ease the tension between the two of you, but with your intimidated, wavering voice, it probably did a poor job. You cringed internally, cursing yourself for even trying to start a conversation with him. He probably felt bothered by you, peace disturbed and wished you would just leave already so he could—

Oh. Your thoughts went quiet when he reached out and took it, sitting up a little straighter on his dirty blanket. The surpressed wince didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you were about to ask him if he was okay, but he was faster.

“That Dale’s?”

A meek nod. “Yeah.” Unsure of what to add to this, you stayed quiet, eyes flickering up to his face.

Daryl huffed, flipping through the pages. Then looked at you. You were ready to be told off for intruding at last, but it was his turn to surprise you.

“What, no pictures?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d thought you had made out the hint of a smirk around his lips, but it was gone too quickly for you to be sure.

Your face fell, caught off guard. “You— you can’t read?” Shock must have been written all over your face judging by the roll of his eyes.

“Nah”, he scoffed, “I can read alrigh', girl. Just ain’t a fan.” He scratched his neck, eyes falling down to the book in his hands.

A faint blush spread on your cheeks. Of course he could, what were you thinking. This didn’t have to be so awkward but of course you’d go and call him an analphabet, for god’s sake…

You cleared your throat, “Oh. Sorry. I mean, I have only read half of it so far, but Glenn said it wasn’t half bad. Maybe better than being all alone with your thoughts? I’ll take it back to Dale, if you want to, I mean—"

He shook his head, interrupting your nervous babbling.

“Don’t gotta take it back”, he huffed. Curt and to the point, as always. His rough voice didn’t fail to make you feel a little silly, intimidated by the one man that had protected you for months now. And the others, of course. Not you especially.

“Sure. Okay, I’ll leave you to it.” Embarrassed, you began getting up when his head snapped up, following your movement.

Daryl frowned, brows pulled together tightly. “Wha', ya ain’t gonna read it to me?” He seemed a little offended if anything, making you stop in your tracks and falter.

“Huh? You want me to stay?” Now it was your turn to be confused. However, he ended that by patting down a spot in the tent next to him.

A shrug, “Ya said ya were only halfway through. Course I ain’t gonna take it from ya now. Ya could be dead tomorrow, fer all I know. Might as well finish that damn story.” His voice didn’t leave much space for discussion.

You were strangely touched. He payed attention to every word you were saying, apparently. Not only did he refrain from throwing you out, he wanted you further inside the tent.

Your braced yourself, smiling at him. “Oh, uh, sure. I’ll read to you.”

As you crawled inside the tent, he reached for the zipper to close the opening. You made yourself as comfortable as was possible in the small room, leaving space between you and him. Didn’t want to overstay your welcome or make him feel uncomfortable. After all, it was rare for Daryl to allow others near him at all, always the closed off hunter. Actually, you hadn't heard him talk this much in weeks.

You counted yourself lucky. Must have caught him at a good time, then.

“Okay, I’ll start with chapter one.”

“Nah, just go on from where ya left off.”

“Are you sure? You won’t understand the story if—"

“Don’t care.”

“Well, if you insist.”

And so you began reading, stealing the occasional glance at him, spread out on his blanket, arms under his head. He was staring at the tents ceiling, blue eyes trained on the worn fabric. His focus however was on you and you only. He listened to your gentle voice, losing himelf solely in the sound instead of the story. Fuck, he could care less for the story.

No, he only cared about the way the words formed in your throat, flowing out of your lips. The soft breathing, how it hitched when you reached an exciting passage. The small noise of frustration when you stumbled over a sentence and had to begin anew…

If only you knew how much he liked your presence.

Honestly, if someone had asked him anything about the content of the novel by the point you said goodnight and left his tent to return to yours, he would have been at a loss. Didn’t remember a thing about the characters, but all about the way you had invented distinctly unique voices for each of them.

That book may have not been the best, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t grateful for every single chapter.

You weren’t the jealous type, at least, you never had been. Jealousy didn’t fit the way you moved through the world, it felt clumsy and noisy against the quiet you preferred but lately something had lodged under your ribs and refused to let go. It sat there like a stone, warm and irritating, until small things, a laugh that lingered a moment too long or a look that came back to haunt you, started to make it ache. Today, whatever you'd been swallowing finally rose to the surface and instead of speaking it, you closed off. You gave Daryl the silent treatment without intending to, like a reflex you couldn’t control.

He watched you from the counter, quiet as a shadow, washing an invisible problem into the sink with slow, steady movements. You kept circling the kitchen, accomplishing small tasks with mechanical precision while avoiding the one person who mattered most. On your third pass, his hand reached out, not rough or sudden, just a steady, knowing touch that tipped your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him. His gaze was intense, the kind that asked for the truth without shouting.

“What’s on yer mind?” he asked, voice low enough to fold around you, a steady sound that felt like a promise. “Talk t’ me.”

You brushed his hand away before the words could roll past your teeth. “Nothing,” you said, too quickly. The word landed hollow.

Daryl’s expression hardened just a fraction, patience sat in his face like a tired cloak but it wasn’t endless. He’d given you space when you needed it before but silence wore thin when it was used as a shield. He stepped closer, the scrape of his boots against the floor a small punctuation in the room.

“Ya expect me to buy tha’ ‘nothing’?” he shot back, voice edged now, not cruel but not willing to dance around it. “Ya’ve been off for a while. Dun act like it ain’t worth sayin’ somethin’.”

He called it as he saw it, blunt and direct, and the way he said it made it clear he wasn’t going away until you told him why the light had gone out of your face.

He waited, watching your face like he could read the weather there, clouds gathering, the way your jaw tightened and the little hitch in your breath that gave things away before words could. Daryl knew something was gnawing at you, a weight you weren't ready to name and it was starting to settle between you both like unwelcome dust. He didn't like the way the distance had room to grow.

When he reached out and cupped your cheek, the touch was firm and sure, not rough but not tentative either. “Talk t’ me,” he repeated. “Please. It's obviously somethin’ that's been weighing on ya, so just... tell me what it is.” He meant it. He wanted to help but couldn't do that if you kept him out of the light.

You let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a stab of annoyance. “Do you have to be so nice to the women talkin' to you? I mean… that lady at the other end of the street wants in your pants real bad.”

For a beat he simply blinked, the question landing in his slow-burn gaze. Then a soft chuckle slipped past him, not scornful or cruel, just a sound that came from somewhere that had understood. The edges of his face eased. He finally saw what your silence had been circling.

“Is tha’ what this's about?” he asked, shaking his head a fraction, the movement small but certain. There was warmth in his eyes but something steadier under it, seriousness. “Sunshine, I can't be an asshole ta everybody, not here with so much at stake. Don’t mean a damn thing.”

He held your gaze a long moment after that, like he wanted the words to sink in. His hand lingered on your cheek, it was the kind of presence that said he wasn't letting this go until you let him in.

When he spoke, his voice dropped into that low timbre that made the hair along your arms lift.

“Ya really think some woman on the street matters even half a percent t’ me?” The question hung there, not a challenge so much as an attempt to cut through the fog. “I come home t’ ya. I ride with ya. I fuck, care, kill and live for ya.”

He tipped his head making sure his eyes met yours, the pressure soft but unyielding. “There’s only one woman whose pussy owns my cock…” He paused and the easy confidence in him made something in your chest unclench. “And she’s givin’ me the silent treatment over someone who don’t even know my name.”

A rumble of laughter rolled up from his chest as he brushed his nose against yours, the sound warm and slightly surprised. “Ya wanna know how clueless that lady was? She called me ‘David.’”

He let the laugh fade and caught your mouth with a look that mixed tenderness and mischief. “Now quit bein’ cute and jealous…unless yer gonna let it turn into somethin’ we play with later.”

“Speaking of that. You haven’t touched me in…how long?” you shot back, sliding up onto the dining table like it was the only place that made sense to land.

He laughed again, that rough, affectionate sound that always lived at the back of his throat. “That’s bullshit and ya know it.” He lifted a hand, tracing a slow line along your jaw, a touch that said everything the words did not. “I’ve had m’ hands on ya every goddamn day after work, in every way I can. You know tha’.”

You planted yourself on the table, folding your arms, trying to keep the tremor from your voice. “I actually don’t know anything anymore,” you admitted, all the worry pouring out in a rush. “Besides the fact that I want that woman nowhere near you. Next thing I know, she’ll be knockin’ on our door, asking you to fix somethin’ and when you show up, she’ll be wearin’ somethin’ skimpy. How do I know that? Because that’s exactly what I’d do.”

He watched you for a long breath, thumb still moving in the same easy circle along your skin, eyes holding yours like he was memorizing the angle of your jaw, the way you argued even when you tried not to. The kitchen hummed around you both, ordinary sounds in a world that used to feel ordinary and in that small private orbit, everything else seemed to shrink until the two of you were the only things that mattered.

He stood there with that slow, dawning look sliding across his face until it landed on something softer, understanding. He’d finally put the pieces together. For all your toughness, for all the ways you pushed the world away, possessiveness lived in you too. It wasn’t something he resented, if anything, it pleased him to know he belonged to you as much as you belonged to him but you needed the truth, loud and plain and he wanted you to hear it with no room for doubt.

“She’s a stranger,” he said, stepping impossibly closer until his boots scraped the floor like a drumbeat you felt in your bones. “And I ain’t goin’ to her place to fix a damn thing.”

“It was much easier when you hated talking,” you shot back, a challenge wrapped in accusation.

His palms came to rest on either side of your thighs where you sat on the table. “I don’t look. I don’t answer. I don’t entertain,” he said, each word a small hammer striking the uncertainty out of you. His thumb wandered, catching on your lower lip until the scowl you wore softened.

“’Cause my mouth? My hands? My cock?” He let the question hang, then locked his gaze to make his point land. “They only work for one woman.” He gripped your thigh with a little more force, letting the pressure underline every syllable. “And right now” –he leaned in, so close you felt the rough brush of stubble, “she’s sittin’ righ’ here on this table actin’ jealous…wearin’ my scent from last nigh’. That’s how long it’s been and it’s killin’ me.”

There was no boast in it, only honest hunger and the plain fact of how he felt. You watched him, heartbeat picking up, every thread of you tuned to him.

“So if she shows up at our door?” he asked, almost as if testing the world. He straightened, face flat and dry. “I’ll tell her I’m busy and tha’ my woman’s waitin’ in bed waitin’ to be fucked into the mattress.”

“Show me then,” you said, cool and direct. “If that’s your plan.”

Something like surprise fluttered through him and his breath went a half-beat short. The air between you tightened, charged with the dare. He let that small pause hang before answering.

“Show ya?” he repeated, one hand sliding up your thigh to grip, a hard certainty in the motion. “Ya wanna see how much I’m yours?”

The question wasn’t a boast. It was a promise, raw and unvarnished and it landed in the space between you like a pledge you could both keep.

He moved with a single, fluid motion, quick enough to answer the hunger in his chest, careful enough that nothing tore. His fingers fumbled at the thin fabric of your panties and in a heartbeat they were bunched and pushed aside. He sank to his knees in front of you, hands working at his belt with an intimacy that made the air around you hum, allowing his cock more space to grow. When he lifted his head, his eyes were dark and unguarded.

“Open yer legs for me, baby… and then I’ll show ya exactly who this cock belongs to,” he said, voice certain.

You obeyed. The moment your thighs parted, the world narrowed to him, whole and immediate, without question. He didn’t rush you, instead he leaned in, lips trailing slow, hot kisses along the inside of your thigh, each press leaving a small wake of heat. One hand moved up, fingers finding your already slick and ready pussy, testing you with an ease that made your breath hitch.

“Feel that?” he asked, the rasp in his voice raw with claim as his fingers penetrated your walls. “Already wet… ’cause ya know what’s comin’.”

When his mouth closed over your clit, it was urgent and exacting, with no gentleness this time, only a fierce, insistent pressure that matched the curl of his fingers inside you. He drove a rhythm between tongue and touch that left you gasping and between the sounds you made came words, low and fierce.

“I’ve been showin’ ya since day one,” he assured, teeth grazing the tender skin as he steadied himself.

Each stroke of his fingers brought another moan from you. He kept a relentless pace, until the wet heat on his chin was as much proof of you as the way your back arched for him. You braced on the tabletop, breath shallow, voice breaking on a single, ragged curse. “Oh… shit” that spooled the next pull tight and bright.

He wanted you to know what you did to him, not just the way your body fit his mouth or hand but the way your taste lived on his tongue. He added a third finger, slow in its stretch and you felt the world narrow to the small, sharp pleasure that came from being taken and known in equal measure.

His eyes never left you once he lifted his head, pupils dark. The sight of his lips, wet with the faint sheen of you on them and flushed, sent a shiver straight through your spine.

“Look at me, sunshine,” he ordered and then his mouth closed over you again, urgent and precise.

When he slipped his fingers free, he watched your face the whole time, slow and exact as he drew each finger to his mouth and cleaned you away, never once breaking that fierce gaze. “Every drop of you is mine... just like every part of me is yours,” he said, each syllable a claim.

He rose smooth and sure, trapping you beneath him. His thumb feathered over your lower lip, an almost tender insistence. “Stop questionin’ it,” he said. “Start believin’ what you already know.”

You took his thumb, sliding it into your mouth, warm and sweet, and he looked at you with something that was equal parts hunger and relief. With his other hand he fully freed himself from his jeans, the movement was quick, practiced and when he let himself loose you felt the hard length press against your wet and already swollen pussy.

“Fuck,” he rasped, voice thick as he pulled his thumb from your mouth and replaced the taste with his own lips, kissing you deep and tasting himself on you. He guided the head of his cock through your slick folds with a slow, teasing patience that made your knees tremble.

“You feel that?” he asked, breathing rough against your lips as he ground forward, just enough to pull a startled gasp from you. “All for you... always.”

He lifted your thigh, setting your leg higher around his hip and then he drove in. The motion hit hard, raw and immediate and you felt him answer every unspoken thing between you.

“Now show me who owns this cock,” he demanded.

You didn’t hesitate. “Please,” you breathed.

He echoed you as he pulled almost all the way out, the tip resting, then slammed in again, driving with an animalistic rhythm that stole the air from the room. He kept the pace brutal and steady from the first thrust, hips snapping forward with a hunger that left no space for hesitation. Each drive landed exactly where you needed it, digging into a place that erased the rest of the world and boiled everything down to one sharp truth: he was yours.

His hand fisted in the back of your hair, keeping you where he wanted you, while the other gripped your hip hard enough that you’d feel the imprint tomorrow. Between each movement his mouth found yours, breath ragged, words lost to the force of motion. “Ya want me?” he panted, the question more demand than invitation. “Then take it, take all of it.”

You let your chin rest against his shoulder, breath coming in shallow, hot bursts. Your answer came out raw and simple, dragged out by the rhythm of him. 

“Uhhh…yes.” The single syllable dissolved into a moan that answered him and nothing else.

His teeth grazed the soft skin just below your ear as you pushed deeper and when your nails sank into the muscle of his arm he shifted, angling his hips to press farther in. The change sent a shock of pleasure through you and the table trembled beneath the force of it. His now free hand mapped your spine, fingertips tracing a path of fire as your name slipped from his lips with a pleading edge that sounded almost like a prayer.

Your sounds, sharp, needy and bright, spurred him on. They landed against his chest and fed the heat building in him, pulling low, guttural responses from him that were as much claim as confession. He wrapped an arm around your waist, hauling you close until you were flush against him.

His lips brushed the shell of your ear, breath warm and urgent. “Ya gonna cum for me, beautiful?” he asked, voice hoarse and fierce, the question carrying every promise he'd been giving you with his body.

You nodded fast, eyes squeezing shut like you could prepare yourself for what was coming. Daryl caught the way you braced and his breath hitched, that last thread of control snapping clean.

“Then come,” he rasped, voice jagged, breaking against the demand. His hand slid down, pressing between your bodies until his fingers found your clit, working hard, relentless circles in time with his thrusts. His hips drove into you with punishing force, the table rattling under the weight of it, wood groaning loud enough to carry but he didn’t give a damn who heard. The only thing that mattered was you breaking apart in his arms.

And then you did. The release tore through you sudden and sharp, body locking tight as a drawn bow. Your nails dug deeper into his skin, teeth sinking into his shoulder as your mouth opened wide on a scream too big to hold.

“That’s it… yeah, that’s mine. All mine,” he ground out, his voice rough and thick with possession.

“Yes–fuck, yes!” you cried, broken, unfiltered, every wave dragging him closer to the edge with you.

He groaned, guttural, chest shaking with the sound as he felt you clamp down around his cock, pulsing hard and milking him with every spasm. It was perfect, so fucking perfect and the sight of you unraveling dragged him straight down with you. His hips slammed once, twice, before he buried deep and came undone, a raw curse spilling against your neck as his release poured into you, cock twitching hard, every throb grounding him in you.

For a while, neither of you moved, your breaths tangled, his chest pressed to yours. Only after the storm ebbed did he ease you back against the table, careful hands guiding your legs down so they didn’t cramp, so you were resting easy beneath him. He stayed buried inside, not rushing the part where the world returned. That closeness, that tether, mattered too much.

“You alrigh’?” he murmured, voice still ragged.

You shivered at the cool wood beneath your back, the contrast to the heat still flooding your body making you tremble. “Fuck yes,” you whispered back, breathless, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

A shaky breath escaped you then, faltering as his thumb traced over your entrance, the subtle pressure pushing you wide while his cock remained buried inside. Every small, tentative thrust sent a ripple through your body, making it impossible to look anywhere but at him.

“Mhm…there ya go,” he rumbled, his voice low, each word thick with satisfaction. His fingers roamed, teasing and he watched the way your muscles clenched around him with every delicate motion. “Ya take me so damn well,” he added, eyes burning into yours like a brand.

He moved slowly, almost lazily, savoring the sight of you stretched across the table, your back arching and mouth falling open with each roll of his hips. Every groan and shiver from your body was a pull, coaxing him further, reigniting the ache that never fully left him. Even as he softened slightly, watching your reactions was sure to make him hard all over again.

“Look at ya,” he rasped as he pressed forward, deeper now, the pace calculated but insistent. “Still so sensitive…but already takin’ more.”

One hand slid under your ass, lifting and angling you just right so every stroke hit that perfect spot, deep inside, sending sparks straight to your core. The table groaned beneath the movement, the sound barely noticed, drowned out by the two of you lost in the rhythm.

“Ya feel tha’?” he panted, hips rolling slow and firm. “Not done with this pussy… not even close.” His thumb teased at your clit, brushing and pressing in time with each grind, eyes locked on yours.

Then he snapped forward with one sharp, deep thrust and your gasp echoed around the room, a mixture of heat, surprise and need.

“We go again… slower, deeper,” he growled, pressing you higher, keeping you pinned, hips dragging in perfect, punishing rhythm. “Until ya get yer damn head straight.”

Your body responded instantly, whining as the head of him hit just the right spot. “Fuck…right there,” you gasped, voice tight and trembling, entirely at his mercy.

He knew exactly where to strike, that one deep, tender spot that made your muscles clench around him like a vice, each movement pulling a groan from his chest. The way your hips lifted slightly off the table to meet his thrusts, the way your fingers wished to dig into the wood, it all told him that he had you exactly where he wanted.

“Right here?” he murmured, dragging out each movement just enough before pushing in again with a sharp, controlled roll of his hips. “Feels good, don’t it? Like you could beg for it anytime…which you can.”

One hand slid up your stomach, fingers pinching your nipple with careful pressure, while the other stayed firmly under your ass, guiding your body with every thrust. He set a slow rhythm, each movement calculated to make your breath hitch, your back arch further and heart hammer in your chest.

“You’re so greedy for this cock,” he rumbled, leaning down until his lips brushed yours, a mix of heat and claim in every movement. “And I ain’ stopping… not until ya come again… or decide yer done ignoring yer husband.”

His name slipped past your lips in a trembling whisper, soft but charged and when he caught it, he memorized it instantly. Daryl slowed his pace even more, deep and torturous, letting each stroke draw out the tension, building it until it ached deliciously between you both.

Your core clenched around him, responding to every subtle push and pull. He could feel the edge of your release approaching and he used it to push you closer, each thrust timed to perfection. He pulled out slightly, letting you squirt freely with a soft, broken whine before sliding back in and repeating the motion, watching your body react in ecstasy.

A grin tugged at his lips as he took in the sight: your back arched, breath catching and body trembling and spilling across his pelvis. Every time with you was different, every reaction unique and yet this? this was the part he loved most. The one that reminded him, every single time, why you were his and only his.

“You like tha’, huh?” His voice rumbled with satisfaction, as he pulled out just enough to watch it happen all over again, your slick dripping down both of you. “So damn sensitive… can’t even handle a few deep strokes?”

Then he pushed back in, slow and hard, letting that maddening rhythm take over. He gave a few deep, precise thrusts, pulling out just before you tipped over the edge, watching you writhe and whine beneath him, before sinking back inside as if every inch of his cock belonged to you…which, in every way, it did.

“Look at me,” he growled, cupping your jaw as your eyes rolled back. “I want t’ see every second of it.”

He didn’t relent, teasing you with the same relentless rhythm, bringing you to the edge again and again. Your moans grew louder, more desperate and each time he pulled back, just in time to watch it spill over his cock and onto the table below, a raw, messy masterpiece of need.

“How could ya ever think I was anythin’ but yours?” he muttered between groans, thrusting deep one last time, burying himself fully as your body clenched around him without control. “This cock? This cum?” He leaned down, pressing his lips hard to yours. “All. Fuckin’. Yours.”

“Gonna cum,” you mumbled, legs already trembling from the tension.

His hips stilled just a moment, enough to let you register the pause, then slammed into you with punishing depth and precision. “Then come,” he growled into your ear, teeth grazing the lobe. “Come around this cock again. Show me how you squeeze it.”

He didn’t slow. He didn’t stop. Every drive, every roll of his hips dragged along every swollen nerve inside you, his hand gripping your thigh to keep you open, exposed and utterly his, as he pushed you over again and again.

Soon enough, your back arched violently off the table, legs trembling so hard they nearly gave out beneath you. A broken, ragged moan tore from your throat, his name half-formed and lost in breath, echoing the intensity of the release that consumed you. He felt it, the pulse of your climax tightening around him and still, he didn’t relent, pushing deeper and chasing every last spasm of sensation and drawing out his own mounting edge.

"That's right…" he panted, voice rough and ragged. "Come all over my cock like ya were made for it."

“Ughhh… fuck!” you groaned, gasping for breath, every nerve still trembling from the intensity.

He let you ride out every pulse and aftershock, his hips moving in slow circles to prolong the sensation, to make you feel every lingering heartbeat of your release. His name was still warm on your lips, your thighs trembling against his sides as he stayed buried inside you, cock pulsing, throbbing, painting you with the thick proof of his own climax. “Attagirl,” he breathed.

"Feel better now?" His voice was rough, husky with exertion, yet threaded with quiet amusement. He didn’t pull out, not yet. "You gonna tell me next time yer jealous?" His thumb traced along your bottom lip, gentle but claiming. "Or do I have to fuck it out of ya every time?"

“Haven’t decided yet,” you replied with a small, worn smile, the heat between you still pulsing and leaving nothing unclaimed.

Right now you were proving yourself to be one of the best things in Daryl’s life. Especially when your massaging hands were lulling him further and further to sleep. But he wouldn’t dare let himself and miss out on what you were doing.

“Y’got hands like magic…” he mumbled into his pillow. With the way he sounded, it seemed like you were doing something right.

Moving to a tighter area of his back produced some louder grumbles of discomfort from the man below you, pressing your palm in a bit harder to work out the knots.

Daryl was right, your hands were like magic, something like a spell when his figure immediately melted into the mattress. He felt that existence, or rather human nature couldn’t possibly get better than this. To be the one receiving this type of attention from someone like you, someone he would stop the world for, that made him all the more grateful to have you in his life.

When you leaned down to press kisses to the top of his back, he knew he was in heaven. He had to be, because there’s no way on this godforsaken world he lived in that someone would ever be this close to him. To share the present world’s moments with and bask in the glory of survival.

Rolling over every morning to see you warming the other side of the bed was something Daryl would never get used to. You’d been in his life for so long at that point, he can’t even think of a time where it wasn’t that way. The days came and went, good as they could get, and yet every time he thought of the reason he’d get up in the morning, it all led back to you.

But moments like this, feeling your lips on his back and your hands working his muscles over as carefully as a sculptor worked with their clay, made him feel overly euphoric in the best way possible.

Your body heat hovering over the rest of him and the strands of hair just swiping over his skin the slightest bit grounded him to reality a little bit more. Otherwise, was floating and closer to falling asleep under your hands. Daryl did his best to stay awake under the circumstances of feeling every minute of your hands on his body.

Your lips didn’t just stop their loving press at the top of his back. They floated down his warm skin, delicate yet just soft enough over his scars to leave him wanting infinitely more of you.

Daryl gave your words all the weight of the world, but in this case, it was your actions.

He was able to notice your warm breath above him right before every press, especially when you were going as slow as you could to draw every intimate touch out. With your proximity rather close, the pendant around your neck drags along his back whenever you moved to a different spot.

A coolness in the stone gliding over his skin, much different than the shared body heat and soft kisses you left. It was the proof he was alive and that you were there with him in the present moment.

He hummed in surprise still because amongst all the warm, the cool touch stood out over everything. Your hands were soft and a little worn, but Daryl would be lying if he said the callouses forming on your palms weren’t helping.

This was one of the many ways you pushed pushed out all the bad and let sunshine into his life. He swore you were one if the things he felt unworthy of, even if you had to prove it to him multiple times.

Your fingers slid down to hold Daryl at his waist, lips and the pendant of your necklace quickly following. It was all getting him much too hot out of sheer surprise of the honey-like touch you’d been giving him.

“Baby…” he groaned, “damn…”

Attempting to keep the way he was rolling his hips into the mattress a secret was very short lived.

“Oh, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Y’re so good with your hands.”

Between his deep breathing and the way his words had that gruff of arousal, nothing was left to the imagination. The body heat you two were sharing was more than enough to make him sweat, covering his palms just the slightest as he gripped the sheets. His smaller grunts of enjoyment sounded out whenever you started on a new area of his back.

In the quiet of your room, you could hear every little noise Daryl was making. Every hitch of breath and low hum you caught making your cheeks pink.

You didn’t reply, just continued with your hands on his sides, now trailing your fingertips up and down. He huffed a breath and a slightly louder sound came with his exhale. Your kisses traveled up his spine, fingertips following up his torso and around his biceps. Daryl’s skin heat up with every peck of your lips, the way it was affecting him more noticeably with each slow grind of his hips into the mattress.

It’s when you finally reach his ear with your kisses that you swipe his hair out of the way to whisper in it.

“You’re so pretty like this, Dar…“ you muttered to him. His skin’s warm and his strands of brown hair are soft and smell like pine. His eyelashes flutter open to reveal his blues and he can almost see you out of the corner of his eye.

“You were trying so hard not to make any of those sounds I love so much… but I know for a fact you’re all worked up, doing your best to keep quiet…“

A smug smile accompanied your words, reveling in the knowledge that he was melting before your very eyes.

The world knew Daryl was set alight when you touched him, especially when you touched him like this. You know it’s over for you when you feel him start to lift himself and use his abundance of strength to roll onto his back, making sure he’s keeping you right where you are.

But he’d always been quick with his hands, proven once again to you by his firm hands gripping your waist to keep you on top of him. Daryl sat you right in his lap over the growing hardness in his pants.

“Ohh yeah, I was right. You’re already so hard,” you chuckled, your weight pushing down right over where the tent in his pants was.

“Y’dont get a prize for bein’ right…”

“Oh? Then what do I get?”

“What do you want, hm?”

“To make you feel good…” Your hips grind into his, “to hear you moan in pleasure because of what I’m doing to you.”

Daryl chews on his lip, dragging his eyes over your tousled form in front of him. Your shirt is one of his, thrown over your figure and falling past your waist, covering you in his scent. He gets a whiff of you within his own, and it overwhelms him tenfold.

Daryl pulls you down towards him, locking his lips with yours and grabbing your waist with his big hands. Your pendant falls on his chest, the stone’s coolness touching his skin.

“Wanna ride you, please, Dar…” you whimpered against his lips, your lips traveling down his cheek and to his neck. Your hands slipped downwards to his belt buckle and undid it, the clink of metal an anticipatory sound of what was to come.

“Need ya so bad, baby, can’t take it anymore.” His fingertips slide under his shirt you’re wearing and pull it upwards, tossing it to the side as soon as your head’s free. Your underwear lands somewhere beside it soon after.

His cock comes free of his boxers and you’re wrapping your hand around it before you can even think. The tip is a rosy red, worked up from dry humping the bed and he throbs in your grip. As you move your hand up his length, Daryl throws his head back. He’d been extra sensitive, it seems.

You lift yourself over him, lining up his length with your entrance.

“Jesus, baby, y’re soaked, and you weren’t even the one bein’ touched.”

Your arousal covers his tip, running through your folds that were just as sensitive as the rest of you. When it runs over your clit, you inhale sharply, letting a small moan fall from your lips.

“I can’t control how good you make me feel…”

“Without me even touchin’ you…”

“Mhm…”

Your voice lowered, sitting down on his cock and letting it stretch you out.

“O-oh my god…” you gasped, his length fitting so nicely inside you. Your hips rolled again to push him even further inside you, if just for a moment.

“There ya go, that’s it, look how good y’take me.” His palms hold your waist steady on him.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “mmm, baby…”

Your hips lifted repeatedly, finding a steady rhythm of riding him while his hips thrusted up to meet yours. Hands found their way around the nape of his neck, running his hair through your fingers a bit. Daryl hummed in content, grabbing you to kiss your lips again. He growled against your mouth, lips pressing together so he can taste you. He’s so greedy when he pushes his tongue into your mouth, already given so much of your affection in one day that taking more just felt like gluttony.

“Feels so good, darlin’, god, you’re perfect…”

The friction of his cock along your walls had you twitching with desire, his tip pressing into the deepest parts of you.

Soon enough you grew tired of lifting your hips and just let him take control. His lips peppered kisses down your neck, leaving marks of possession in his wake.

“Oh god- oh fuck, mmh…” you whined, holding yourself up around the nape of his neck, otherwise you would’ve collapsed. The sheer force of his hips pistoning themselves into yours was weakening you, along with the way he kissed your cervix with every one.

Daryl panted against your chest, out of breath and growling in your ear with every thrust of his hips.

“Jus’ a little bit more, y’can do that f’me, can’t ya?” he grumbled in your ear, to which you nodded enthusiastically. His cock twitched as your walls fluttered around him, the low voice he spoke in making a chill run down your spine.

It was all contributing to how fast you barreled towards your release, Daryl’s pace faltering a bit more with each thrust.

“‘M close, darlin’…”

“Yeah… me too…” you mumbled incoherently.

A couple thrusts more and your high was approaching fast, reaching down to swirl at your clit. First contact with the sensitive bud had you clenching around him again, orgasm reaching its peak. All of the sudden your high crashed over you, stuttering walls and loud moans of his name and curses to follow.

Daryl’s panting continued, and soon enough he was slowing down his thrusts to pull out of you and pumped himself to the brink of orgasm. Soon enough, he was painting your stomach white with his cum.

Both of you caught your breath for a few minutes in the cool air of the bedroom, then Daryl spoke.

“Shit, you look so pretty like that,” he chewed on his lip at the sight of you before him. Your flushed cheeks and messy hair and him on your skin.

“Do I?”

“Mhm…“

Daryl’s gaze lingers on every curve of you, stitching it into the backs of his eyes. Then he reaches over to grab a tissue and clean you up with it. When he’s done, you lean over and pepper kisses across his cheeks.

“Love you, Daryl…” you whispered, “so much…”

“Love ya more, darlin’. Thanks for the massage, by the way.” His hand rubs up and down your back, pulling you closer to him.

“You’ve already thanked me,” you replied, kissing his lips while your hand cups his chin.

“I can think of a couple other ways to thank ya. But for now, they’ll have to wait.”

The sun was setting outside and the evening air was cooling. The day had been long and busy but you and Daryl had shared a cold shower — totally to save water — and now, here you both lay in bed, naked and tangled in one another.

Daryl’s head was resting against your shoulder; the fingers of one hand combing through his hair, the others were switching between stroking over the arm he had draped over you and his cheek.

You were both silent as the room darkened. His breathing was steady and relaxed but you could feel his eyelashes brushing against your skin as he blinked so you knew he was still awake and thinking. You felt his jaw tense a little as he chewed his lip but you stayed silent; Daryl would speak when he was ready.

Outwardly he was a man of few words to most people. To those he completely trusted, conversation could last for hours. You loved the nights and early mornings you’d had talking about anything, everything. Stupid things and deep conversations alike — nothing was off limits. You’d often spoken about how you’d both thought your lives would go, how things had changed and while it had all gone to shit, you had found each other.

You scratched lightly through Daryl’s hair from temple to nape and smiled as he shivered a little. He swallowed audibly and the small intake of breath preceded his words, like he had to work himself up to speaking. You listened as he started and stopped, stuttered a little but you never interrupted.

“…Are ya real?” Daryl whispered against you softly.

You smiled and nodded “I’m real, baby” you kept your voice on the same level as his.

“I feel like I made y’ up… like I’m gonna wake up sometime and ya won’t be here and reality will hit me that y’ were in my head the whole time.”

Your heart ached for Daryl and you closed your arms around him tight “you didn’t make me up, I’m real, I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

“I’m not used t’ good shit happenin’ t’ me. When it does… somethin’ always comes along to ruin it. I guess… I’m just… scared that’s wha’s gonna happen wi’ you.”

You kiss the top of his head and nuzzle his hair.

“So sometimes I… can’t believe you’d choose me. Outta everyone… you chose me… I was just some redneck with anger issues when we met.”

“I don’t blame you for having anger issues.” You smile. “Everything was shit…. Still is… just less so.”

“Didn’t know how ta talk to women… still don’t. Not the pretty ones like you.”

“You get by baby… I stumbled over my words more than a few times when we started talking.” You chuckle “remember when I served you “binced meef with spagasta sists?…”

You both laugh softly at the memory; your first official date after some months of dancing around each other. You’d meant to say “minced beef with spaghetti”, but you had actually served pasta twists - when you saw Daryl sat in the candle light watching you with those blue eyes, your brain had short-circuited and muddled up letters and words spectacularly.

Daryl nods against you and smiles, turning his head a little to kiss your skin. As he does so you feel a drop into your shoulder, followed by another. It takes a few seconds for you to realise they were tears.

“Baby…?” You try to tilt his face up to you but he doesn’t let you, instead he leans his forehead against your shoulder and sobs quietly. You shuffle a little so you can wrap yourself around him properly. “It’s okay…” you whisper and stroke his hair.

“I’ve done so much… bad shit.. I dunno what good thing is was that meant I deserved you.” He trails his hands over your naked form and slowly looks up at you with red rimmed eyes.

“You did what you needed to do, to survive baby and I’m so glad you did… because now you’re here with me and we get to share what’s left of goodness in this world.” You cup his face with one hand and gently wipe his tears with your thumb before placing a light kiss to the tip of his nose, making him smile.

Daryl squeezes your thigh lightly and continues to trail his fingers over you.

“You making sure I’m really real baby?” You smile, there’s no judgement in your question, just understanding.

He nods in answer “If I can feel ya and touch ya… ya gotta be real..”

You move to lay back for him, your arms resting comfortably above your head on the pillow and Daryl moves to immediately use both hands to map out every curve, every dip, every rise and fall.

His lips are hot and light on your skin, following the paths his hands take time to make over you. He kisses old and new scars; traces their trajectories with the lightest touch of his fingertips.

Each of your nipples are licked slowly; his tongue swirling and flicking over the peaked nubs making you arch and whine. His fingers continue when his mouth leaves them and then his hands trail over you again.

Slowly, Daryl moves lower down you; his hands circle around over your back making you arch further. He doesn’t want to miss a single part of you. He knows how much you like to feel his teeth against your skin and nips lightly across your hip bones from one to the other. He knees up between your legs and gently lifts one; his hands knead over your skin followed by his kisses from thigh to ankle to foot and toes before gently lowering your leg and lifting the other to continue; he starts from your toes but repeats his actions moving up to your inner thigh.

You’d never had your feet kissed before; not something you’d ever thought about. Truth be told now? You want him to do it again because somehow he made you feel like a Goddess being worshipped; the bed was your alter and Daryl was no mere servant; he was your God ruling by your side and protecting you.

As you got lost in your thoughts you gasped suddenly and arched off the bed, gripping your pillow. His thick fingers were slowly circling your entrance and trailing through your slick folds.

Opening your eyes just a little you see his face looking over you laid out before him. His eyes travelled down over you and came to rest on your pussy; his fingers still slowly working over you.

“Daryl…. Please…” you whisper.

He lays himself back down between your legs and replaces his fingers with his mouth; his tongue laps over you while his hands hold your hips to keep you steady. He switched between lapping over you, dipping his tongue into you, sucking your clit, uses the tip of his tongue to flick and circle. He wraps an arm over your lower stomach and pushes two fingers into you, curling them deep and thrusting slowly.

You try to move your hips for more friction but the strong arm holding you down puts a stop to that. Daryl grinds his hips against the bed, moans against your pussy as he eats you like a man starved and savouring his last meal on earth. The few times you manage to look down and catch sight of his face you see there’s still tears in his eyes.

“Oh god..” you whimper and pull at the pillow.

Daryl speeds up his fingers, moves his tongue faster and sucks harder. He’s panting against you and grinding his hips frantically as you get more worked up.

“Daryl… baby…. Just there!” Your toes curl and you call out, thighs tightening around Daryl’s head as you climax. He grunts roughly and lets out a low moan against your pussy, his own hips stilling.

He crawls up over you as your body recalibrates itself, your brain clears the fuzz and his lips meet yours — you love tasting yourself on him. You once again wrap yourself in each other and become a tangle of limbs, sheets and sweat.

Daryl holds you close against him; hanging onto you like you’re his lifeline, he kisses you slow and deep then whispers against your lips.

“I love ya…I don’t know why I deserve ya but ya make me so happy… I’m never lettin’ ya go.”

You kiss him back and drink in his words “I love you too, I’m not going anywhere.. I’m not gonna disappear. I promise. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Daryl pulls the sheets over you both and guides your head to his chest for you to relax. You both drift off to sleep within moments of one another but Daryl still finds himself waking briefly throughout the night to check you’re still there in his arms; when the sun rises and you’re still there he smiles softly in the comfort he feels and allows himself to fully sleep for a few hours before the day properly starts.

—

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