Anything recognizable is the property of the appropriate owners. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.
Note: I have not seen past Season 4, Episode 9: After.
Carol hummed happily as she pulled the cookies out of the oven to cool on the counter. She glanced out the window at Daryl splitting wood in the backyard, his shirt long abandoned. His back rippled powerfully under his marred skin, glistening with sweat and the short haired woman leaned against the counter to enjoy the view. They had all come such a long way since they first met, since the war was over, and she was more than a little proud, of herself and of the hunter. As if feeling her eyes upon him, Daryl looked over his shoulder at the house and caught her watching, blushing as he always did before sinking the axe into the stump and snagging his shirt. Her view significantly diminished, Carol went back to her cookies, knowing he would be trying to steal one as soon as he came in the door.
She wasn't disappointed when she heart his heavy boots on the patio before she was soon bracketed against the counter by his strong arms as he leaned over her shoulder to eyeball the cookies. "Smells good."
"They're for desert. I expect Michonne and Rick back any day now." Carol playfully slapped one of his hands away from the plate before turning in his arms. "You can lick the spoon."
Daryl grinned like a little kid and quickly left the cookies alone in favor of the batter smeared utensil. He popped the spoon in his mouth and quickly licked it clean as Carol just gazed happily at him, content in the domesticity of it. She chuckled and leaned up to kiss away the smear of batter on his lower lip. The short haired woman brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes and gave him another peck on the lips. It was a blessing every day that he was comfortable enough to allow this closeness when they were alone, skittish as he had always been, she just wished it hadn't taken so much pain and loss to reach their little corner of paradise. And maybe Carol wished for more than the simple kisses and comfortable touches when something ached deep inside her for even more intimacy.
Yet as soon as the desire passed through her mind, she was overcome by immediate guilt at the uncharitable thought. When they'd first met, he wouldn't even look her in the eyes, not that she had been trying to catch his gaze; but now they shared practically everything, even the painful parts of their past that still marked their skin. She was allowed to touch him, they shared a bed when they had nightmares, and they forgave each other for the decisions they had made, so it seemed selfish to want for more. But Carol still reveled in every chance to hold him close like she was now.
Daryl rested his forehead against hers, willing his racing heart to slow. He had never imagined ever being comfortable with another person so close, but over the last few years, he found himself unable to keep his distance from the short haired woman. She was an ever unfolding enigma of strength and vulnerability that made him question the things he thought he knew and teaching him new joys in life, despite how hopeless things seemed at times. The hunter tightened his arms around her, letting her take some of his weight against the counter, always wanting more yet always denying himself. Daryl still wondered if this was all just a dream and he would wake up at any moment back on his mattress on the floor of his trailer full of regrets. So for once in his life, he took the chance and kissed the smaller woman deeper than he ever had before, tasting cookie dough and her own unique flavor.
Carol responded eagerly when he licked across her lip, opening her mouth to taste him, moaning low in her throat as her hands clenched on the sides of his shirt. Daryl couldn't help turning his hip slightly to press his thigh between her legs, rewarded when she opened to him, clutching him closer. The hunter put aside all of the reasons he never did this and lived in the moment, determined not to have the regret of inaction hanging over him no matter what happened next. Unless of course, Carol indicated otherwise, but she curled her tongue behind his teeth, making him shudder all the way down his spine. Her hands were already fumbling for the edge of his shirt so she could touch his skin while she rolled her hips slowly against him. This was so far past their safe romantic friendship, he should be running for the hills, but for the first time the bowman felt confident in his decision.
It was another split second intuitive choice that made him pull back enough to grab her by the hips and encourage her to hop up on the counter. Carol complied eagerly, spreading her knees on either side of his hips and hooking her feet behind his legs, wrapped completely around him, surrounding him. Daryl only stopped kissing her enough to breathe, cheek to cheek for a moment before answering his old curiosity about how her skin tasted on her neck. The short haired woman moaned shamelessly when he pressed his teeth against the muscle behind her jaw and his pulse throbbed along with hers. While he nuzzled his scruffy face against her throat, she deftly undid the buttons of his shirt and ran her blunt nails down his chest, ripping a groan from his throat. She smiled wickedly and returned the favor, nipping playfully at his shoulder.
Daryl growled in response, flexing his powerful hands on her hips, debating the best way to get her out of her blasted cardigan. Those light sweaters had practically been the death of him, simultaneously clinging to her body and hiding the shape of her but before he could make up his mind, Carol skimmed her hand over his belt and palmed the front of his pants, stilling when she didn't meet the expected firm flesh. He instantly froze, dread washing over him like ice water, knowing the exact moment she realized why he had never made a move before and Daryl steeled himself for the disgust to register. But the short haired woman only frowned slightly and looked up at him with big concerned eyes.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on the perspective, the sound of a pair of booted feet stomping on the patio and the front door opening startled them apart. Daryl instinctively stepped away and hurriedly buttoned his shirt as Rick called a greeting from the living room. Carol pulled on her mask of contented den mother, hiding any sign that anything was amiss or that her heart was thundering out of control. The hunter gave several one world answers as the other couple recounted their mild adventures on their way back from Hilltop and escaped as soon as he could to his attic room.
He curled up on the dusty bed he hardly ever stayed in, holding his knees to his chest and doing everything he could not to think. Daryl abhorred the one secret he hadn't shared with the short haired woman, but it was inevitable she would eventually find out. As much as he wished it wasn't a fact of his life, his deformity wasn't going to change any time soon and it was almost a relief knowing that everything would finally be out in the open. And consciously the bowman knew it was nothing to be ashamed of, he hadn't had a choice in the matter. It was done to him, just like all of the other scars he bore and the ones he knew she carried. So when Carol found him hidden away in his room after dinner, he was perfectly calm, stretched out on the bed flipping through an old motorcycle magazine.
"Hey," She poked her head through the doorway. "I saved you a cookie."
The hunter quirked one side of his mouth and put aside the magazine so he could pat the bed beside him in invitation. Carol kicked off her shoes and climbed in next to him and passed over the cookie. Daryl broke the treat in half and held it out, knowing she never sampled her own baking unless he shared it with her. They spent several moments munching on the simple desert, staring at the ceiling until they brushed the crumbs away and the short haired woman took his hand.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell ya." Daryl said quietly. He had learned that it was easier to just have the conversation with her rather than put it off. "Just hard to announce that I'm not a proper man."
"Of course you are." She immediately objected. "That doesn't make you a man."
"I have ta squat ta piss." He hissed sourly. It was one of the things that had worn on him since he was left disfigured. Even dogs didn't squat.
"I love you just the way you are." Carol rolled towards him, staring him down and daring him not to believe her vehemence.
Daryl just sighed and nodded, he trusted when she said things like that, believed in her view of him knowing that his own perspective was skewed by years of abuse and neglect. "It's why I never took it further."
She nodded understandingly and caressed his chest soothingly. "Will you tell me what happened?"
"You shouldn't have'ta hear that." He didn't want to think on it either, but knew the only way to lance the old wounds was to talk about them.
It didn't take long of Carol just laying there quietly, head pillowed on his shoulder for him to start talking. "I distracted him from Nascar."
Daryl cleared his throat unnecessarily. "Insteada just kickin' me outta tha house like usual, he grabbed tha nearest thing. Beat me silly with a fishing pole then when he broke it, he tied me up with tha line and left me fer hours."
Carol cringed involuntarily. "How old were you?"
He shrugged. "Ten, maybe just turned eleven I think. Merle found me and took me to tha hospital even though we couldn't afford it."
"Docs saved my hands but couldn't save much else. So now you know why yer tha only woman I've ever kissed." The hunter finished in an embarrassed rush.
She stayed quiet long enough that he wondered if she had fallen asleep, but eventually made her own confession. "Ed liked to cut me, usually just little nicks. Didn't like the blood. But he promised he was going to fuck me with that knife someday."
It wasn't the same as what Daryl had gone through, but it wasn't a competition for who had it worse. What was important was that they both had been hurt and would never intentionally cause each other pain. "I don't think I even like sex." Carol chuckled dryly. She certainly didn't miss it. "We're the perfect pair."
Daryl used his arm around her shoulder to roll her closer against his chest where he proceeded to kiss her silly. It was as if karma was finally getting him back for how shitty his life had been before the Turn. They had a secure property, friendly settlements close by, and nothing but a couple small herds had given them any grief since destroying the Saviors. Maybe there wasn't another shoe to drop, maybe this was their reward for surviving Hell and he was going to grab it with both hands. Both of them knew that they could be torn apart again at any moment and by unspoken agreement, their touches slowed and Carol slipped one of his buttons so she could press her palm to his belly.
One of her strong fingers found the puckered mass of scar tissue on his side and he stilled momentarily. He considered it his largest failing, but he couldn't imagine Carol making it this far otherwise. Sophia wasn't made for the ugliness of the world and losing her had hardened the steely silver haired woman so that she could survive, and even thrive. So Daryl kissed her sweetly and moved her hand over his heart instead. He may never be able to say the words, but he knew she understood his every action meant nothing but love for her.
Soon Carol's smile turned wicked and she brushed her calloused fingers over his nipple, making his hands clench and pull her harder against him. In retaliation, she threw her leg over his to practically straddle his powerful thigh, grinding her center against him to relieve some of the tension in her belly. Daryl helped her with the rest of his buttons on his shirt, having grown almost used to her eyes on his scars. She never made him feel less than for his old wounds, doing her absolute best to heal the old wounds with understanding. And he had eagerly returned the favor on more than one occasion, bleeding old wounds clean until they could believe they were the only people in the world.
There was no reason to deny the tension that had been between them for years so Daryl put everything else out of his mind, determined to do what he could for Carol's pleasure at least. He catalogued every time she let her blue eyes slip closed and what caused her to moan low in her throat. The easy way she moulded her body against his send a thrill of possessiveness through him stronger than any of the times they had been separated. Nothing could ever make him give her up. This was the natural inevitable next step and he found he wasn't afraid anymore.
Carol felt the tension leave the younger man and she kissed him delightedly. Somehow it felt more intimate than if they were already naked, as if he had let go of some weight and she playfully teased him with her fingers and lips. At some point, she sat up to strip off her sweater and shirt, stretching luxuriantly when Daryl ran his hands up her belly and ribs before folding forward to touch as much skin together as they could. She mentally smacked herself for missing out on how close two people could be for so many years, but Carol knew that she might not be where she was if not for her past.
She let herself be rolled over on the bed so that she was on her back and Daryl let his weight press her comfortably into the mattress. Carol wrapped all of her limbs as tight as she could around the hunter to keep him near, syncing their breaths until he sucked a small mark under her collarbone with a smirk. He moved lower to lathe attention on her breasts and she threw her head back on the pillow, twining her fingers into his shaggy hair. There would probably never be a time that he didn't hide behind his bangs, so she treasured every time their eyes met.
The short haired woman couldn't get enough of his hands on her body, the strength in his coiled muscles which would have once terrified her in another man, thrilled her right down to her core. Even she could smell her own arousal, such a foreign thing, it didn't even matter if they couldn't necessarily properly consummate their partnership, this was more personal. They took their time exploring each other's bodies, mindless of anything that wasn't in bed with them, the entire world limited to the room. Eventually Carol was wiggled out of the last of her clothes and Daryl had kicked off his pants so the rough material wouldn't scratch the naked woman's soft skin.
Carol couldn't resist asking what had been on her mind for some time that night. "Can I look at you?"
Daryl froze uncertainty. He didn't want to hold anything back from the steely haired woman, but he couldn't even bring himself to look half of the time. Finally, he nodded and rolled onto his back to shimmy out of his threadbear boxers, shyly covering himself with his hand. The room was too dark to allow for an in depth examination, but it had been decades since he had exposed himself to anyone. But Carol's ernest gaze made him slowly remove his hand.
She wasn't sure what she was expecting, perhaps a gnarled and scarred version of a typical penis, but there wasn't much at all, just a nub hiding among his dark pubes. Carol carefully slid her hand down his belly to carefully cup his groin experimentally. "Can you feel anything?"
"Not really." The hunter shrugged, forcing himself to remain relaxed.
Gently, the short haired woman cupped his balls, feeling the delicate roll of them under the thin skin of his sack. It wasn't so different, she decided, but sadness overwhelmed her when she realized he had never known pleasure, either with another or by his own hand. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course." Dixon answered without question.
Carol kissed him deeply before leaning off the edge of the bed to reach her discarded pants, returning with a individual use sized tub of valsaline. Usually she used it when her hands or elbows cracked in the dry weather, but she had brought it with her on the off chance they did continue what was started in the kitchen and she needed a little help to ease the way. This just wasn't what she had anticipated. The short haired woman settled herself against his side again, running her hand down his flank and fondling his testicles.
"Have you ever played with yourself?" She almost didn't recognize her breathy voice, unused to such raunchy questions as she reached behind his balls to rub his perineum.
Daryl gave a surprised exhalation at the stimulating touch. He hadn't really bothered to play with himself, preferring to ignore anything and everything to do with his disability. But Carol's hand in a place no one has really touched before was foreign and yet part of him wanted her to do anything she wanted to him. "Never." The hunter finally ground out between clenched teeth as she made him feel things he had never imagined before.
"I know some guys swear by it." Carol whispered against his neck, watching the tension build in his muscles as she circled the tip of her finger closer to his anus.
The first brush of her finger over his opening made his jump and draw back, but he forced himself to relax and get used to the sensation. She carefully traced around the edge of his puckered hole for a moment before kissing him to distraction. When she brought her explorative hand back, Daryl hissed at the first touch of slickness. He had never been one of the macho type like Merle, but that didn't mean he had ever imagined someone actually playing with his ass. But hundreds of gays couldn't be wrong, and he did trust the smaller woman completely. This would be something he would only ever share with her.
"Are you sure?" The steely silver haired woman made sure to look him in the eye and confirm.
He nodded without hesitation, wanting to see just where this would go. The easy intrusion of her finger past the ring of muscle surprised the younger man and he tensed automatically. Carol stilled immediately and kissed his jaw until he relaxed and she crooked her finger. It was somehow alike and yet so different to fingering herself, she decided. She went carefully, reading his body language for when to twist and push in deeper and when to wait, quickly rewarded by his reedy whimpers and his hips grinding down on her hand.
Daryl didn't even fight his eyes rolling back in his head. Carol was all around him, surrounding all of his senses and controlling him from the inside out and he wouldn't have it any other way while she played his body. His balls tightened as they always did when excited, and the hunter instinctively knew this time would be different. Then she drew back enough to coat a second finger with the lube and he had to fight not to crush her narrow shoulders to him when she pushed back in. It didn't even matter that it was a twisted mirror of how most couples slept together, he was soaring higher than any drugs Merle had pushed on him. And just when he thought it couldn't get any better, he saw stars.
Carol fucked her lover on her fingers, reaching for the spot she had read about in trashy paperbacks. She was almost convinced it was as fake as a woman's G-spot when the pad of her fingers brushed up against something firm and round and Daryl moaned shamelessly. All the muscles in his body drew tight like he was being electrocuted, and his breath came in little pants. Smiling wickedly at her success, the short haired woman stroked his prostate again, making his back arch and the noises he made went straight to her groin. There was no doubt that she was in the process of blowing his mind when the bowman didn't even bother with words, just plaintive whimpers as he ground back down against her hand.
It was tempting to draw it out, but they had both waited long enough, so she pressed against the spongy gland, letting him fuck himself on her fingers until his whole body went rigid and he cried out in ecstasy. Ejactuate oozed from what was left of his cock as he went completely boneless, fingers twitching where he clutched her closer in the throws of passion he had never experienced before. Carol carefully slipped her fingers free of his body and regarded his lax face. For once, the serious man didn't have frown lines between his brows or his eyes squinted against the sun and against accidental eye contact. He just let his racing heart settle from what he had been sure was a heart attack, feeling a warm lethargy creep up his limbs.
He wasn't even thinking in words yet when Carol carefully wiped off her hand on her well worn shirt and used the soiled material to clean up the stray Vaseline and cum. Hell, the hunter couldn't drum up enough energy to do anything, sated as he was unlike anything he had ever experienced. No wonder people did crazy things for sex. Carol could do that again any time she liked, Daryl smirked at her self satisfied grin. She looked like the cat that had gotten the canary when she lay down next to him and drew up the blankets. The hunter curled close to the smaller woman, content knowing that even if they lost everything again tomorrow, he would always have her.
Author's Note: I have no idea where this came from. Perhaps it's just my attempt at Virgin!Daryl.