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Daryl’s calloused hands had never felt softer than when he followed them down the nape of your neck, around to your ribs and through the waistband of your pants. His fingertips glide along your skin thoughtlessly, leaving his breaths rigid and wavering with what self control he still has with you.

The shy game he had played with you for so long had finally come to this. Him in front of you, holding you with the same hands he is capable of doing such terrible things with. The thought perverts your mind as he breathes in your ear, telling you how perfect you look standing before him, letting him touch you so tenderly as he never has before.

Your breath hitches when he breaks the seam of your waistband, the new air on your skin is intoxicating as he clumsily tries not to break contact with his concentration.

“Doin’ so good” he purrs lasciviously.

The words leave his mouth with uncertainty, face blushing as such crude words never before spoken by him leave his lips. All you can do is writhe and whine, feeling him explore you graciously.

Daryl has always been one to be scared easily. Not in the traditional sense— he isn't afraid of anything that can kill him that is. He lies awake at night, gripped with the fear of losing everything, what little he has. So, with his new attraction to you, coming on so quick and so unexpectedly, he can't seem to cope.

You had always seen him as a man that avoids affection at all costs. Someone as beautifully traumatized as him, that almost flinches at the raising of a hand, or cries softly when no one is around, the same man taking advantage of you now. You couldn't yet wrap your mind around the circumstance before you.

He turns you around roughly, making your head spin, taking both of his hands and running them down your back once more as he peels your jeans off of your trembling legs. Your breaths hasten as he leans over you, taking your chin in his hand to force your head toward his. A tear glints in your eye, the forcefulness of his affection overwhelms your senses and only strengthens your attraction towards him. Conversely to his aggression, he kisses your lips, tongues meeting at the intersection of your mouths as he slowly trails his thumb up your chin. Tenderly he replaces his tongue with his thumb, pushing it past your teeth and into your eager mouth.

Looking into his hair covered face, you can see his wild eyes, full of lust and impatience. Catching your noticing stare, he brings himself back up off of you, going back to his previous position behind you.

“Let me know if it's too much” he tells you innocently, making your knees weak at his gravely voice and the sudden realization that you haven't even seen his size. You can only mumble in response with his thumb still pressed against your cheek.

His contradictory gentleness in his words is a stark contrast to the compromising state he has the two of you in. A gasp then leaves your throat when he suddenly removes his thumb from its resting place, leaving a vacancy you wish further to be filled again.

You breathe in sharply and swallow hard at the sound of his belt unbuckling, feeling his growing hardness press against the back of you until he frees himself at last.

He brings his mouth to you, wetting you sufficiently for him to have his way, leaving him to relish in your taste and the pleasured sounds that don't cease to leave your mouth. The loss of contact from his mouth makes you shudder, and the thought of how you must look crosses your mind incessantly, bent over and exposed, letting Daryl do as he pleases with you. It was utterly out of character for both of you, but somehow nothing had ever felt more right.

He presses inside with ease as he puts the first fragment of himself into you, leaving your legs to give from beneath you, passing the responsibility of holding your body up to Daryl, who happily complies. He lifts your hips up further onto the surface you lie on, softly panting as he tries not to hurt you with his vigorous longing. Eventually you grow used to his size, making you beg for him in his entirety. You knew little of what length he had left however, with the rest of him bottoming out into you making you curse from his infliction.

“So fuckin’ tight” he exclaims, pressing his hand down on the center of your back as he has his fill of you.

It isn't long until both of you are approaching climax, his being much more obvious as he pathetically whines with each stroke getting him closer and closer. After a while, the only sound around is both of your synchronous moans, filling the air with the auditory titillation of sex. Desperation reaches a high as each entrance and exit from you slows significantly, leaving Daryl’s sweat dripping onto your back, and his words filling your ears.

“Y’gonna make me cum” he moans, forcing the words out as if it pains him to speak.

Soon after, he desperately pumps into you once more, before pulling out and releasing his desire-rich seed all over your back, leaving himself weak and empty and you the same.

Life suddenly began to speed back up again, the reality of what just occurred spilling out before you. Daryl looks at you meekly as you sit up, clearly ashamed of his actions and words, as if someone else other than him had taken over for once.

“Did I hurt ya?” he asks shyly, looking at the ground. You shake your head lovingly, bringing his face into your hands and kissing him again. His reaction to this is timid, like he couldn't fathom you still holding any sort of attraction to him after what he did— as if what he did was something to be ashamed of.