Sight

Rick looks at Daryl, intent on his crossbow, smoothing fresh tape around the handle. He watches how the other man inspects every inch of his weapon, totally focused, not missing a thing. He sees his brow crease as he finds a new nick or cut, observes how with deft fingers the other man polishes away the imperfection.

As he looks on, he doesn't see anything else. Doesn't know whether daylight disappears around them, doesn't care how tired he feels. Doesn't mind anyone else seeing him watching. He drinks in the sight of his man, only one thing of importance: Never to lose sight of the hunter again.

Daryl feels him looking, can tell he is being observed. Rick is sure he knows this for a long time before he looks up, blue eyes meeting his. Daryl's senses are sharp, his vision is perfect, and across the room, with the bustle of the group around them, their eyes lock as Daryl smiles. Rick can feel the warmth of the gaze like a flame close to his heart, the gentleness of the look like a caress. There is nothing around them that matters, outside of what each of them can see.

Rick gives a tiny jerk of the head, his way of asking the question. All good?

Daryl responds with a dip of the chin, their way of confirming it is. Everything's under control.

Rick knows what will happen next, and he sees Daryl put down the crossbow as he walks towards the stairs. He regrets breaking eye contact, but in his mind already explores what comes next.

-.-

Hearing

Daryl can hear the footsteps disappearing up the metal steps, the firm tread of heavy boots on the concrete above his head as he follows. There is nobody up here but them, he knows. He usually knows the whereabouts of each one in their group, and it makes him feel safe. He can hear them talking below now, clattering pots as they prepare dinner. Beth is singing, Carol laughs at someone's joke. They are safe.

His own tread on the smooth floor is noiseless. He can sneak up on anything and anyone if he chooses to, and mostly it's not even a choice, just instinct. He pushes away the curtain in front of his cell and it rustles quietly. Rick is inside with his back to him, and now turns around.

"Hey Daryl."

His name from Rick's mouth is the most intimate thing anyone has ever said to Daryl. He feels it like a soothing embrace, a calming hand on his heart. If love has a sound it is Rick's voice when they are alone.

Daryl steps right up to his lover, looks into his eyes. Rick looks back, then threads a hand into Daryl's hair, stroking the back of his head. Daryl covers the few inches between them and Rick puts his arms around him.

They are very quiet for a few minutes. Daryl closes his eyes, listens. He can hear Rick's breath close to his ear, slow and strong. He can feel the heart beating in Rick's chest, it is steady and calm, and in turn it calms Daryl.

This is where he belongs, Daryl knows that.

-.-

Taste

Rick pulls back a little from the embrace, studies Daryl again, whose eyes are closed, savoring the moment. Then his man's eyes open and they are the most beautiful sight Rick has ever seen. Rick knows just how lucky he is. With him, Daryl's eyes shine. There is no hint of suspicion, no narrowing in appraisal, no judgement, no fear. It has taken a long time for Daryl to start looking Rick in the eyes at all; now this look is like nothing Rick has ever seen.

The looking is almost enough, but not quite. The longing in Rick to experience his man with all his senses is growing stronger, and finally he gives in and leans into a kiss. Daryl's mouth is hungry and warm on his, and they savor yet another sensation together. Hands are roaming, getting ready, making way.

Daryl tastes of cigarettes. Rick has never been keen on the taste, until now. On Daryl, it is just right. There is something to this taste that is so uniquely Daryl, so different from anyone Rick has ever kissed that it takes them away from everything that's come before every time, and only leaves the here and now.

Rick leans down then and starts kissing his lover's neck. Daryl craves attention given to this part of his body and eagerly leans his head back with a moan. He likes Rick biting him, too, and Rick is beginning to like it back. He starts with small, gentle nibs. There is time for more later. He can taste the sweat on Daryl's skin; the run they'd been on today had been physically exhausting. The salty sensation makes it all real, makes them both solid, somehow. Rick licks small circles around the first bite and Daryl's breathing picks up.

-.-

Smell

Daryl closes his eyes again as Rick works his way down his neck. The sensation is intense, and each nip, each bite brings him closer to arousal, and them both to each other. The sensation of pain is translated by his brain into pleasure, simply because he can trust Rick completely, and knows he would never seriously hurt him. It is safe yet still exciting.

Then Rick's lips vanish from Daryl's neck and Daryl opens his eyes. Rick straightens up and leans in again, resuming the kiss. Daryl crowds in close, making sure their bodies touch, giving in to the need to feel Rick all over. He pulls out of the kiss and rests his forehead against Rick's shoulder.

Daryl inhales his lover's scent. He can smell sweat from the day's hard work out in the woods, smoke from their fires that always reminds him of their first nights together, out there in the wild during that cold, desperate winter. And he can smell Judith's baby smell, formula and just the way she smells when Carol has just given her a bath.

These are the familiar smells of Rick, and they never fail to make Daryl feel safe.

-.-

Touch

Hands gliding down Daryl's side, resting on narrow hips. Feeling his ribcage rise and fall with the breathing that's still speeding up. Buttons are coming undone under his fingers and soon warm skin comes in direct contact with seeking hands. The hairs on Daryl's belly are soft as Rick's hands wander down, get busy with more buttons.

The first time Daryl knows that he and Rick touched was five minutes after they met. He had just tried to slice into Rick with a knife and wasn't that a surprise when Rick didn't knock him out cold. Instead he and Shane wrestled him down and the knife from him, and none too gently. But Daryl remembers, and the memory is not altogether unpleasant.

Rick's hand slides into Daryl's pants and takes his man's erection. Daryl is almost fully hard and moans at the touch. His head comes off Rick's shoulder and his own hands get busy with Rick's clothes. Rick can feel fingers gliding down then around his chest, to the small of his back, then past the waistband.

Daryl remembers what it felt like when he and Rick came together in passion for the first time. He remembers the taut muscles under his hands, all leanness and hard lines from months of insufficient food and constant movement. He has touched every part of his lover a hundred times since then, but that first time is still in his mind like it was yesterday. He can also remember Rick's hands exploring his body, and the memory of those strong but gentle fingers steals into his dreams almost nightly.

Clothes fall, until both of them are naked. Hands never stop roaming, fingers close on erections, caress buttocks, slide in and out of secret places. When the need becomes overwhelming their bodies come together, and now everything touches. Erections are trapped between them, warmth spreading and multiplying from there through their whole beings. Chests touch, breaths and heartbeats come in unison.

Lips explore, teeth are busy leaving marks. They feel, and they breathe, and they are together. The hunter, a lone wolf with a past darker than anyone imagines, and the cop who carries the burden of a leadership he didn't ask for. One as unlikely as the other to trust, to open up their deepest secrets, and yet here and now neither is alone, each has the other's back.