#starlitcigarette

Daryl grunted as he pushed you against the nearest wall he could find, kicking the front door of your shared home closed. One hand stayed firmly on your waist while the other remained tangled in your hair, gripping it every so often to adjust you as he saw fit. “Fuck y’think y’er doin’ wearin’ that out…” he whispered into your ear as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck, trailing low to your collarbone. “You need attention that badly? Huh?” He bit into your flesh, sucking hard before tilting your head back with the grip on your hair. “Asked you a question,” he warned. “Expect you to answer.”

“I—” Your breath shook, heat pooling in your core while your scalp tingled from the pressure. He was no longer attacking your neck; instead he stood tall with his knee between yours, inching upward to force them farther apart. “I don’t know…” He tugged correctively. The look in his eye was enough to tell you what he wasn’t saying. That, and the way he pressed his knee into your cunt. “Yes! I wanted the attention!” you whined, flushing hot.

He seemed responsive to your whimpering, grinning momentarily before pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling away completely. He left you panting and red, still pressed to the wall, as he walked to the sofa. Sitting with his legs spread in a slouched, relaxed position, he beckoned you over with a simple wave of his hand. You obeyed quickly, joining him at the sofa, but when you attempted to sit with him, he stopped you.

“On your knees. Hurry up,” he mumbled, his tone resembling boredom, but you knew better. Your knees pressed together between his, sitting back on your heels. “Good girl,” he mumbled, cupping your cheek and using the leverage to pull you closer. “I’m gonna show you what all that attention-seekin’ gets you. Maybe you’ll think twice before wearin’ that shit again while workin’.”

You looked confused until he began unbuckling his belt. “I’ve never—”

“I know.” He interrupted. “I’m gonna teach you.” Pulling himself free of his boxers and jeans via his open fly. He slowly stroked his length, keeping his eyes fixated on you. “Any objections?”

You watched with bated breath, his words making your skin crawl in the best way. “No… no objections,” you muttered softly. You didn’t object. Not at all. You were exactly where you wanted to be. Of course you knew what would happen if you went to work the fields wearing nothing but booty shorts and a bikini top with only a thin button-up to cover yourself. It was hotter than hell this summer, and admittedly, Daryl had been too busy for your liking.

It wasn’t his fault—you knew that, you knew it when you got together. Still, there used to be a time when, even though he was needed a lot, it was mostly just the two of you. Now he’d taken on a much bigger role in the group, and you’d been feeling a little… lonely. Most attempts you made to get him in the mood were shot down because he was exhausted. Or he would try, but before foreplay was over, he’d already be asleep. You thought you could keep waiting until he finally had the time, but in this world, you never knew how long “normal” would stay normal.

So you did the next best thing. Your job was not only to work the crop fields but to train some of the newbies to do so as well. Recently, there’d been an influx of newcomers, and they’d just gotten their assignments. Funny how things worked out sometimes. Daryl never really cared what you wore—within reason—but he always knew when you were dressing for yourself versus when you were trying to tease him. He never expected you’d use it against him like this…

He’d been watching you from across the field, sitting in one of the watchtowers with a pair of binoculars. Those binoculars were supposed to be scanning for potential threats and attacks; instead, they were trained on your ass as you bent over to rip up weeds—along with a few of the men from the newbie group, all straining to look without making it too obvious.

Daryl’s jaw clenched, knuckles turning white around the binoculars before he shoved them into the other lookout’s chest, mumbling about being back in an hour because he was going for lunch.

“So, you just wanna grab it low, like this,” you said, bending over to show the men how to properly yank the weeds. Most of them weren’t paying attention, at least not to what you were saying or doing, anyway. When you looked up, they had scattered, busying themselves with various other tasks you’d trained them on. When you finally turned around, you came face-to-chest with Daryl. He looked pissed. You would’ve ran too if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re on lunch. Let’s go.” He took you by the hand, not giving you a moment to think before pushing you toward the house. What he couldn’t see was the smirk on your lips once you’d been pushed ahead.

‘Hook, line, and sinker.’

You swallowed most of your nerves and took some initiative. Reaching forward, you tried to replace his hand with yours, but he swatted it away. “Patience. We got 45 minutes.” He leaned over and tugged the button-up off your shoulders, letting it bunch at your elbows. The sight of you, hair tousled, cheeks red, lips swollen and slick—drew a low groan from him. His cock twitched toward you, already aching and beaded with pre-cum.

You couldn’t look away from his fist sliding up and down his thick shaft, twisting slightly at the head. You remembered the stretch, clenching around nothing in response, but you still wondered how the hell you were supposed to fit all of it in your mouth. Cliché as hell, sure, but maybe clichés exist for a reason…

“Droolin’ yet?” He smirked, knowing damn well you were. He hissed softly as he brushed his thumb over the tip, spreading the slick down his length. “Good. Closer.” He tugged you forward, one leg hooking behind you to lock you in place. “Open up,” he said, voice husky and low.

You obeyed, heart pounding harder now. He cradled your face with his free hand, fingers pressing just below your ear, thumb tracing your lower lip before slipping inside to press flat against your tongue. “Suck,” he commanded.

He kept up slow, deliberate strokes, only speeding up when your cheeks hollowed around his thumb. “Shit… Said you didn’t know how, but looks like you don’t need much practice.” His brows knit together with a rough grunt. The wet sound of his hand gliding fast filled the air, mingling with the small, needy noise that slipped out around his thumb. When he pulled it free, he smeared your spit across your cheek, then shifted to fist the roots of your hair and guide your head down.

“Go on.” He pushed you closer; the hand on his cock stilled at the base. It twitched again, heat radiating so close you could feel it on your lips. “Suck. Just like before.”

The moment your mouth closed around him, his hips bucked involuntarily. You choked, gagging on the sudden depth, and pulled back to cough. He gave you a half-apologetic glance, but his hand was already urging you down again. He couldn’t stop himself, your mouth was too warm, too wet… Daryl groaned lowly as you took him deeper this time, sliding back up slowly, almost teasingly.

“That’s it… That’s how you take it,” he muttered, arm draped lazily over his eyes as his head tipped back against the couch.

His fingers tightened, guiding you with steady pulls and pushes. Your face burned hotter at the obscene, wet squelches, especially when you misjudged the rhythm and it slipped free with a slick pop. “Fuck—” you gasped, seizing the chance to breathe. Daryl cracked one eye open, curious why you’d stopped. When you looked up at him, wide-eyed, shiny with tears and spit, he throbbed intensely against your tongue.

“Didn’t say stop.” He tapped the heavy length against your cheek, then smeared the tip across your lips. Without thinking, you parted them again, brows furrowing in concentration as he traced the seam before sinking fully back in.

You focused on the weight of him against your tongue. He was salty, hot, the thick vein pulsing under your lips. Daryl’s grip stayed firm, guiding you, showing you exactly what he wanted. As you settled into a rhythm, or at least got used to his, your nerves began to fade. Until he suddenly hissed, fist tightening to still you.

“Easy now, watch those teeth,” he panted, loosening his hold after a beat. He started guiding you again, body relaxing into it. “That’s it. Use your tongue. Flat, trace the—” He broke off with a deep moan, eyes rolling back as they fluttered shut, hips rocking forward on instinct. The way you swirled tight circles around the ridge and along the vein… He was losing focus, losing resolve. It took everything in him not to lock your head in place and fuck your throat like he owned it. His cock jumped at the thought.

Your jaw ached from the stretch, but you kept going, addicted to his reactions. He shuddered when your warm spit dripped down his length; he pushed your head lower to chase it. When you pulled back for air, a thin rope of saliva connected your lips to the tip. He thumbed it away, smearing it across your open mouth. “Eyes up here,” his voice was soft, but commanding.

His gaze bored into you, dark and intense. “You’re doin’ real good. Better than good.” With his free hand, he guided yours to the base, wrapping your fingers around him. “Stroke what you can’t fit.” Your fist glided in time with your mouth, the wet sounds growing louder, filthier. His rhythm picked up as you got comfortable, pulling your head down slow, then up again, feeling your tongue flick over the slit. “Breathe through your nose,” he coached when you gagged on a deeper push. “Relax your throat. Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

You tried again, taking him farther this time, nose brushing the coarse hair at his pelvis. His abs flexed hard; a string of curses spilling out. He stilled you suddenly, keeping you halfway down his length. “Feel that?” he asked, referring to the wild throbbing, the way his cock twitched alive against the back of your throat. “Take it deeper. Deeper. Good, girl. Swallow around me.”

He didn’t wait, his hips moved, pushing just a little more. The involuntary clench of your throat ripped a salacious groan from him, the sound so raw and hungry it sent a sharp pulse straight to your core, thighs squeezing together on reflex.

“My girl’s a quick learner. Fuckin’ perfect.”

The praise lit a new fire in you. You took over the rhythm, setting a quicker pace of your own. His hips followed your lead now, tip nudging the back of your throat, then almost all the way out, over and over.

His rhythm faltered for a second, hips stuttering as he fought to hold on. “Shit… gonna come soon,” he rasped, voice cracking with restraint. He slowed just enough to look down at you, eyes dark, pupils blown. “You gonna take it like a good girl? Swallow it all for me?”

You couldn’t answer with words, but the eager hum around his cock was answer enough. That seemed to snap something in him. “Fuck, just like that.” His grip tightened, pulling you flush one last time as he thrust shallowly as he spilled over. Hot, overwhelming ropes dripping down your throat. Thick pulses, paired with a few shallow thrusts until he was spent.

You swallowed what you could; the rest dripped down your chin when he finally pulled out. He stared down at you, glassy-eyed, hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, face flushed nearly as red as yours, then swiped his thumb over your chin and pushed the remainder back into your mouth. “Swallow.”

You did, throat working under his heavy-lidded gaze. He admired the view for a few moments, catching his own breath before he checked his watch.

Then, in one smooth motion, he hauled you up and flipped you onto your back across the couch cushions, legs draped over the armrest. You squeaked in surprise, wide-eyed as he loomed over you with a satisfied, smirk.

“You wanted my attention so bad… now you got it.”