It was about damn time Rick and Daryl did anything together. Not that Daryl wanted friends or anything of the sort but Rick was the closest he had to a... whatever Rick was to him. They were just on a level of understanding and respect that Daryl couldn't quite put his finger on. Rick was the leader (not that Daryl needed to be led) and the huntsman was something short of his go-to guy. Needed to hand over the reigns for two seconds? Daryl could manage. Needed someone to watch your back on risky runs? Daryl could do that, too. No, they weren't friends, no one could be friends in such a world, but there was trust and there was respect. That was close enough. It was probably the best relationship Daryl had had with anyone, and it was almost a shame it had to come to the dead walking around for that to happen.
So when Rick showed interest in Daryl's habitual hunting and even offered to accompany him, he molded to the opportunity. Because fuck, Daryl was allowed to enjoy things. This just happened to be one of the few incredibly scarce moments that he felt some sort of joy, excitement. Daryl had been waiting (actually, he'd been doing his best to track certain animals in attempt to teach the sheriff a few things, because Daryl didn't and couldn't just 'wait around') for Rick when he finally came into sight, a merry look on his face as he continuously walked onward. Maybe he was excited for this too, considering the man hadn't seen that look on Rick since he'd first come into the group. Seemed like such a long time ago. Daryl could barely remember what it was like. Things had changed more for him from then to now than they had before and after the outbreak. It was sad, almost - well, more for everyone else than for him.
"'Bout time," he jested, no visible emotion but that was okay because Rick knew that's how he was.
"I know, I know," Rick sighed the day's stresses away and prepared for new ones. "I figured you'd already have half the woods' game sacked up by the time I got here." It was obvious he was pretending to be disappointed in the usually efficient hunter but Daryl didn't seem to take it too well. He didn't let it show. "Glad to get away though."
It was weird to hear him open up like that - Rick didn't admit feeling tired of the group for shit, though apparently he made exceptions for Daryl. And he had all the right to; Daryl had been close to giving up so many times on people who weren't worth his time, and he wasn't even leading them all.
"Too busy waitin' for your late ass," he piped back and Rick flashed a white smile. "You ready for this?" The man nodded and began to survey the area as if he knew what to look for. He didn't. That's where Daryl came in. For now he just trailed behind him, silently taking in the environment that he already had memorized. Rick was still in leader-mode and Daryl figured he'd just shell out of it sooner or later. "You ever been huntin'?"
"With guns, yeah." Rick was the only one out of the two who had one and both knew it was a last resort when walkers were involved. There was no risk-taking anymore. At least, not for anyone except Daryl. "Only ever took down deer... What 'bout you?"
"You askin' if I've ever hunted or what I've caught?"
Rick smiled. "What do you think?"
"Caught an alligator once or twice."
"No shit?" Rick looked at him briefly.
"No shit," Daryl nodded. "All by m'self, too."
"I believe it." It felt good to be praised, or something of the sort. Rick sighed and glanced upward. "I think I know why you come out here so much."
"Yeh? Why?"
"Peaceful? 'Least it is for me." It was on the right track, certainly. Daryl liked the seclusion mostly. "Plus no one on your back." Bingo.
After a long while of just aimlessly wandering and making small talk - for some reason Rick still had that smile on his face, and it was almost as if he wanted to laugh - Daryl had had too much. The silence was unbearable even for him.
He asked gently, "The hell you even goin'? You think I should take over?"
"Probably should'a done that to begin with," made Daryl grin. Rick turned his head to him, having stopped moments ago to stare at a tree like it had some type of significance. His hands were on his hips like they belonged there and Daryl's lips might've twitched a little. "I'm not the one with the crossbow."
It was as if some metaphorical light bulb had just gone off above Daryl's head and he pulled his weapon free. He loaded it - thinking the entire time that he should probably be teaching that part to the cop, too, but fuck if he was about to stop - and then extended it (safely) out to Rick. He glanced between the fatal object and the man holding it, no doubt checking to make sure Daryl was actually sure with what he was doing. He was, and Rick took the thing with a thankful expression. Daryl was in the zone now - the training zone, that was, after all these years of only teaching himself shit - and he withdrew a small knife from his pocket. The tree Rick had directed his attention on soon had a target that had been chipped into the bare wood.
Of course, it was apparent Rick didn't have much experience with the crossbow and he fumbled with it, holding it wrong only to be destined for disaster.
"Yer gonna shoot yer eye out," Daryl heavily exaggerated and the sheriff made a noise between a laugh and a scoff.
"That'd be a story."
The dirtier of the two took a step forward, grasping Rick's hands in his own and moving them to the position that was familiar with the hunter. In the process he ended up brushing up against the man more than he would've liked to - or, at least, he wouldn't admit to anything further. Rick seemed to not notice, or at least not care enough to move away, and Daryl ended with putting his hand on Rick's shoulder to keep steady. He pointed toward the middle of the target, his breath no doubt hot on his neck, and he said, "Just aim and shoot - there."
"There?" Rick repeated, turning his head in to the side and resting his eyes on the hand of the brunette behind him.
Daryl suddenly felt insecure about what he'd gotten himself into and cleared his throat, moving his limb away, stepping back, and nodding his head. "Uh, ye- yeh. There." Maybe he could shrug off the almost unintentional touch; there weren't many other choices.
It seemed to take forever after Rick had brought the crossbow up to aim, but his eyes narrowed and he finally shot the thing. It made a familiar noise as it hit the tree - and not too far from the middle of the target at that. "Not bad," Daryl commented, roughly retrieving the arrow and making his way back to the shooter. It was an opportunity to show him how to load it and hopefully not get as close as he'd been only moments ago. He hoped Rick would only forget about it.
"Now, ya gotta get it in there like 'is," he began after taking the weapon from him and kneeling down to make an example of his work. "Takes a li'le force but I'm sure ya can handle," - Daryl looked up to see Rick's eyes on his face instead of his hands and his head cocked to the side, staring intently at his instructor. He swallowed hard. - "uh.. it." Rick bent down to try his hand at the task, seeming to make sure he brushed his digits along Daryl's, which created a some type of rushing, warm feeling to cascade down the insides of his chest.
"I think I got it," Rick whispered only a foot or so away from him, but he hadn't been paying attention to his hands either and instead over the rest of his body. He was strong, but Daryl'd always known that. And if Daryl would've liked guys Rick would probably be his type. That was, if he liked guys. 'Cause Dixon certainly didn't.
"Yeh, good." He didn't even check to make sure if it actually was good.
"Ya wanna show me how to aim better?"
Daryl was getting lightheaded.
"Yeh, sure," he got to his feet and awkwardly - yet not so awkward, for some reason there was an odd comfort he felt with Rick that he didn't have with anyone else - formed to the shape of the leader's body like he had earlier in their lesson, taking place behind the concentrated sheriff and adjusting his angle appropriately. He could even feel the muscles in his back. Rick could probably feel the hardon pressing against him because Daryl sure as hell was conscious about it. Either way he'd done what was asked of him, and Rick shot the crossbow again, this time almost exactly on the bullseye. He didn't give Daryl any time to congratulate him as he turned around to face the man and stare directly at his face. Daryl stared back, their bodies still close and their foreheads almost touching.
"Thanks," he whispered.
"N-.. n'problem."
Rick leaned forward and brought his lips to Daryl's for something of a rough kiss, though Daryl hadn't been kissed in a long, long time and wondered if Rick found that obvious. He was sure it didn't take long before he was in the groove of things, but the fact that Rick was actually standing there kissing him had his mind more on that than anything else. Daryl didn't even think twice about it. Rick's lips were soft against scarred ones and the redneck quickly noted how great he was at what they were doing. No doubt - he was married and probably kissed his wife at least once a day. Or maybe it was like that a while back when things seemed better between them, but Daryl felt it all the same.
Still, regardless of how hard he was and how he had 'butterflies' (or whatever that damn feeling was) like he'd never had before, he was kissing a man. And a married man at that. Maybe it was the taboo of the thing that had him almost painfully erect. But they were in a post-apocalyptic world and hell if Daryl was about to play by the rules in any type of setting.
Somehow they both began stepping in the same direction, Rick's back meeting the target tree with a hard force. The arrow was only a few inches above the angle at which he was leaning. Daryl took his lips away from Rick's to pull it from the bark and Rick responded by inching kisses up his neck and jaw. He could feel a form of anxiety with every peck pulsate throughout his body and make him want more. So much more. After dropping the arrow to the side - he'd be back for it later; there were more important things going on - he brought his attention back to Rick whose eyes were heavy with lust and hands pulling at unwanted clothing.
Everything felt natural in a sense, at least for the huntsman. The feverish stripping of cloth, the slight neck bites, the impatient groans (most of which were from him). By the time the both of them were, for the most part, naked, they were both dripping with sweat. Not that that wasn't normal for Daryl; he'd been similarly dirty for most of his life. It didn't bother him and it didn't bother Rick, who in fact seemed to be getting off on it.
Their mouths remained disconnected but their foreheads were pressed together, Rick's left palm exploring all the flesh and scars that existed in the form of Daryl Dixon. It was all happening so fast but neither had any objections. Daryl kept his hands on Rick's hips and finally mustered up enough courage to let his touch dip lower, cascading along his hard (and quite frankly large) length while Rick already had constant motions on the redneck's.
"So good," the sheriff moaned among other such comments. Daryl on the other hand was vocal in his moans but nothing else.
It took Daryl that long to realize that Rick still had his crossbow in hand. Little did he know, the cop stole nonchalant glances to make sure the thing wasn't loaded - his overprotective personality couldn't be put to rest even when Daryl was grinding against him. And that's exactly what they did. Rick held their cocks together as both of them rocked their hips, pelvic bones meeting and wet noises being made as spit and sweat found homes on their skin. They just couldn't get enough of each other. Soon Daryl was moving faster, harder, cupping Rick's face in his hands as he continuously pushed forward, his adrenaline tickling his abdomen and soon he was riding through an intense orgasm, followed very shortly by the cop who was to blame.
Daryl stepped forward, sending Rick closer to the tree, and his thrusts became deeper as they both emptied themselves at will. They were loud enough in their groans for the redneck to wonder if they'd be heard - by a walker or otherwise. Honestly he'd rather be caught by decaying flesh than the opposite.
As quick as it happened, it ended just as fast. They cleaned each other off with tongues and friction, leaning against that tree with nary a jump of energy between the two of them. They even helped dress each other, which was something Daryl found almost as intimate as what they'd just done.
"Wanna go hunting again later?" Rick grinned between deep sighs of relaxation, running his fingers along Daryl's crossbow while he sat next to its owner on the bare earth.
"Same time tomorrow?"