Title: Sex and Dreams
Author: thexxit
Rating: M – language and sexual situations
Category: TWD: Daryl/Carol
Spoilers: If you're really worried, I'd say mid-season 3, but you should be good up to end season 2.
Disclaimer: These characters are not my creation. I don't profit from them, but I do hope to share my love for them with others.
Archive: Okay anywhere as long as my name is attached.
Summary: Daryl's dreams.
x.x
Sex dreams weren't new to Daryl. His experience with women was less than stellar: either Merle's rejects or his leftovers. His whole life had been like that. Always coming second to big brother.
When he was a teen he used to pretend to be tough so Merle and his buddies would quit picking on him. Before Merle left, he had dreams. He figured he could go to school… he was good with his hands, maybe he could become a carpenter, or maybe he could just hunt for a living. He could meet a girl who wasn't a Merle hand-me-down and he could have a few kids and make them smart, make them go to a real school and have real jobs. Then no one could call the Dixons rednecks any more.
When Merle left though, all those dreams were just those: dreams. He knew they would never come true. Between the beatings from his dad and roaming around to find anything to fill his stomach, he turned into the tough guy he only pretended to be before. He didn't need anyone. No friend, no woman, and certainly no brother.
Sex then became a means to an end. Every now and then a girl would come along with daddy issues who wanted to rebel and sleep with a bad boy, and Daryl fit the bill. He didn't know names, he barely remembered faces, and he wasn't sure if they liked it or not. He was in and out and on to the next thing. Survival.
That ability to survive suited him well in this new world. He could catch and eat animals as small as squirrels… hell, sometimes as a starving boy, too scared to go home, he would kill and eat a rat. He could fight, he was fearless – or so it seemed, and he could need no one.
Sex was secondary in the game of survival, but somewhere in the back of his brain it was important. He often had sex dreams – the social worker who asked him how he got the bruises on his arms, the policewoman who picked him up when he was stone drunk and threw him in the drunk tank, that pretty girl Merle fucked in the woods who cried after because it was her first time… and now a new dream.
If he'd been asked before all of this if he would ever find himself dreaming of a girl like Carol, his answer would have been no. She was too soft. She had a kid for Christ sake. She was more librarian material than sex material. But, here he was, once again having the same dream.
Saving Sophia. Bringing her home. Carol's happy face and happy tears. He was her hero; he was Sophia's hero. She thanked him, he became special to her, she started to love him, she started to want him, and one day, with Sophia tucked in and sleeping safely with Carl and Beth, she showed him.
He would wake to her kisses first. And startled, his eyes would snap open and he would sit up.
"What the fu-"
"Shhh," she would say, and kiss his mouth, and after a moment's hesitation, he would kiss her back.
Her body would be thin but beautiful: small breasts, slim hips, and the tightest piece of heaven between her thighs that he had ever felt. He would be awkward, as always, but she would be confident and graceful. She would slide down on top of him, taking him fully into her, and she would be slow and his hands would roam every inch of skin they could and he would groan when her inner muscles squeezed him as she climaxed and it would be enough to make him follow right after, emptying himself into her. It would be amazing.
As if that wasn't unexpected enough, she would curl herself up next to him and fall asleep, her arm across his chest. All night he would feel her breath against the side of his face, and he wouldn't move a muscle for fear he would wake up and it would all be a dream….
He felt something hard smack against his side.
"Fuck," he mumbled, his eyes opening. "What you do that for?"
"Haha, what's this baby brother? Havin' a wet dream? Fuckin' queer, moanin' and groanin' in yer sleep. Shut up. I'm tired."
Daryl rolled over in his small cot, embarrassed and furious with himself. He was no kid. He wasn't a queer either. He wasn't going to fuck Carol because she wasn't in his league and there wasn't any time for that anyway. He wasn't going to love her or start some kind of family with her because she didn't want that. Because he didn't want that. He didn't save Sophia. He wasn't some hero. It was just a dream. It all would forever be just a dream.