Warnings: Dom-sub relationship; nearly dub-con; aftercare; outdoor sex; mild degradation; name-calling.
"Oh my god, Daryl," she moaned in his ear. "That was...amazing," she whispered, swallowing the dryness out of her throat. Trying to stay quiet in the middle of the night in the middle of the house they shared with their family was thirsty work. Lots of panting and all.
He pushed himself up from where he'd collapsed on her body and settled next to her. Concern crossed his features, "Wasn't too much, was it?"
"God no," she said emphatically. They'd been experimenting, dabbling really, with different positions and dirty talk. Nothing super extreme, but definitely more than just run of the mill pillow talk. "If what you do makes me feel like this," she lazily gestured to her own body, "I think I'd let you fuck me any time you wanted." She blushed slightly at the profanity that had slipped out, but only slightly. Considering what they'd just said to each other mere moments ago, this was completely tame.
"Any time, huh?" he grinned at her, nuzzling into her neck.
"Yes, Sir." She giggled at that.
He claimed she started it when they got back together in Alexandria and she tried calling him Mister Dixon as part of their pillow talk, but he told her right away (mid-act, in fact) that he didn't like it. When she asked what she should call him, he simply said, "Sir." Apparently it was something in a porno he'd seen before the turn, he'd explained, and just wanted to try it. He started calling her his little slut, and smacked her ass when she called him Daryl instead of Sir like he'd insisted. She got an odd little thrill when he called her names like that. Slut, whore, bitch. She knew he didn't really mean any of them, and she probably shouldn't like it, but damn if it didn't turn her on.
She'd meant it. She'd let him do whatever the hell he wanted to her. Every time with him was incredible, leaving her tingling inside and out. Apparently, being dirty felt very, very good.
"I'll keep that in mind," he murmured just before nipping at her neck. It wasn't long at all before they crashed together into a sex coma.
It was days before Daryl even touched her again. Most people in Alexandria had figured they were together, so she knew it wasn't for any sense of propriety, but she started to get worried when he didn't even sit with her at meal times. He'd still crawl into bed with her each night, but wouldn't try anything more risqué than sliding his arms around her. She was beginning to think maybe she'd said something during their last time together that upset him.
That is until she was walking toward the clothes line with a basket full of laundry. She had just set the basket on the ground and bent over to grab the first article of clothing when she felt strong hands grab her hips from behind and drag her backwards to the side of the house. She suddenly found herself with her face pressed against the rough brick of the building and was about to panic until she heard his rough voice growl in her ear.
"Wearing those skanky little shorts again, slut? You know what I told you would happen if I caught you wearing those again."
Beth fought the grin that threatened to break across her face. "Yes, Sir."
"Yeah?" he doubted her mockingly. "What'd I say?" She clammed up, unable to force the words out of her mouth, especially out here where anyone could hear her. She wanted to state her case, that all her other shorts were in the wash she was just about to hang up to dry, and it was the height of summer. What else was she supposed to wear? She stayed silent, knowing her pleas for mercy would fall on deaf ears. "Better talk girl, or you'll get worse."
She gasped in a quick breath, then whispered, "Y-you said you'd tear the damn things off me and fuck me, no matter where I was. Treat me like the s-skank that I am."
He snorted in her ear, "And ya went an' wore 'em anyway. Dirty girl."
"Yes, Sir," she repeated, wondering if he'd actually follow through with his threat.
Just by that, he pulled her shorts roughly over her hips, not even bothering to unbutton or unzip them. She'd surely have bruises very soon, but the feeling of him being so rough with her left her unable to care.
What she did care about was when he ripped her underwear right off her. She turned to glare at him, but didn't even have a chance to say anything before he smacked her right on the ass...hard.
"Didn't say you could turn around, girl," he admonished her. "'Sides, little cock teases like you don't get to wear cute little panties like this." He held them up so she could see them, white with little blue flowers on them, before stuffing them in her mouth. She could smell her own arousal on them, which only added to the wetness between her thighs.
"Not a sound."
He angled her hips toward him and lined himself up with her opening. The next thing she knew, he was shoving his cock into her, slowly but still forceful, claiming her pussy as his. There was no pain, no discomfort, despite their lack of foreplay; just him calling her that name had her instantly dripping for him. Still, his entry was sudden, and he gave no warm up to thrusting into her.
He took her fast and hard right from the start, and Beth did her best to obey him and stay quiet. The worst of it was the rough surface of the wall scratching her cheek. She briefly wondered how she could explain it away until Daryl grabbed her ponytail and pulled her back toward him, her back pressed firmly against his chest.
She wanted to spread her legs a little, but was unable to with the shorts wrapped around her knees like they were. The position made her incredibly tight, and she swore every one of his thrusts made her feel like she was about to split in half. It was just this side of painful, but she wanted to be a good girl for him, this man who had become the master of her heart...and now her body...so she focused on taking deep breaths and letting him do what he wanted with her.
He released her hair only to wrap his fingers around her throat, squeezing just enough to stop that deep breathing, sending a jolt of panic rushing through her. Daryl kept pounding into her, keeping his hold on her, only allowing her to take the shallowest of breaths.
"Such a good little slut," he groaned in her ear. "This what you do now? Just let men come up and fuck you? Filthy thing, don't even care where you are, as long as you're getting fucked, huh?"
She couldn't respond, even if she had the breath in her to form words and her mouth was free to move. Somehow, she found herself nodding in agreement in time to his thrusts.
"You gonna come for me, slut?" Another tiny nod. "You're loving this, huh?" Again, a nod. "Mmm, I'm gonna cum. Gonna cum in that little pussy."
She felt him explode inside her, which triggered her own orgasm, causing her walls to spasm around him. He kept driving into her, not giving her any reprieve from the sensations washing through her. After one last thrust, he slid out of her and tucked himself back in his pants before bending down and pulling her shorts up for her.
"You alright, darlin'?" he asked, turning her around and taking her underwear from her mouth. She worked the stiffness out of her jaw and nodded. "Need to hear you say it, sweetheart."
"I'm alright," she said quietly.
He held her face between his large hands, searching for any sign of her hiding something from him. Satisfied at not finding any, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight before scooping her up and carrying her inside.
"Daryl, I need to finish the laundry...and I can walk, you know," she complained half-heartedly.
"Later, baby girl," he said soothingly. "Right now I'm gonna clean you up and take my time getting you dressed again."
Beth grinned and looped her arms around his neck. "Yes Sir."