He knew it was her before he even opened the door.
Two short, soft uncertain taps on the trailer's aging metal door, as if she almost didn't want them to be heard. He wouldn't have missed them, though; ears of a hunter never let him down, and they didn't fail him tonight either. Daryl stood, stretched, knees and knuckles popping, and stepped resolutely toward the door. With one calloused hand on the knob, he paused. Tired blue eyes slipped closed for a moment, and he inhaled deeply, preparing to face her. He realized then that he could smell her clear through the door; some unnamable sweet scent of honey and vanilla, flavored with desire, under a thin veil of smoke. She always smelled like that, and all hope for his soul was lost as soon as it filled his nose.
He tightened his grip on the knob and pulled, just enough to peek his head out.
Her back was to him in the near-darkness, as if she's just been turning to leave. God knows, he thought, if she had any brains in that pretty little head of hers, that's exactly what she would do, and he should shut the door and let her. "I knew it was you," he rasped instead, exhaling the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Rainey jumped, startled that she hadn't heard him open the door, over the rain that had soaked clear through her coat. Their eyes met and held, magnetic, his hard as ice in the tempest, hers stinging with running makeup and filled with need. She had been crying, again. She broke the stare then, her face wet and burning, and hid her gaze near the weatherworn boards under her feet. "Oh yeah?" she smarted off. "And just HOW did you know I was gonna show up, Dixon? You a mind reader now?"
The nervous attempt at humor floundered. "Nah. Ain't no mind reader, Rainey. You always bring this shit with ya," he said, opening the door a few more inches and gesturing at the blackened sky with his free hand. She grinned, her sideways smile breaking his resolve just that much more. She took a single step toward him, and another one, and looked up at him through her wet lashes. "Name's Rainey. Kinda goes with the territory, just like being an asshole goes with the name Dixon."
He ground his jaw. "Yeah. So, did you just drive your fancy car all the way across town just to call me an asshole? If that's the case, mission accomplished, Princess. Now get on back to yer town house before the staff misses ya." Daryl made a move to shut the door, but Rainey's hand blocked it's path. "Daryl, please", and the magic words worked, just like they always did. He couldn't turn her away, and they both knew it.
With a sigh of defeat, he swung the door open but stood there, looking at her. She cocked an eyebrow and slid forward to squeeze by his larger frame, stopping for a timeless moment in the middle, her chest pressed damply against his, pulses inches apart. Rainey breathed in the singular aroma that could only be called Daryl: primal, compelling, of leather and pheromones and dirt and sweat. Its low siren song of the familiar filled her and gave her miserable soul the only peace it knew.
He grunted, gave one last glance at the junk filled yard and the out-of-place red Jaguar near the gloom at the edge of the yard, gleaming like a rose in the depths of space. Visible, like his need would soon become.
He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her on through, toward what passed in this tin can of his for a living room, and followed. Rainey stopped in the center of the small, dimly-lit room and stood shivering. She pulled off a pair of sporty Italian driving gloves, and was pretending to examine a seam on one of them when he reached the doorway. Daryl leaned his back against the wall and stopped to fill his eyes with her, crossing his work-toned arms. "You're shaking" he observed softly. She shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself and moving from one foot to the other in obvious discomfort. "Best get ya outta them wet clothes, then" he said, not making a move to help her. She nodded but didn't move, her eyes darted nervously around the room, looking for a way out she knew she didn't really want. Daryl saw this, and primal instinct colored his vision and took hold. He raised his chin in the direction of his prey, raised his voice just a tad and snapped, "Ain't gonna tell ya again, woman! Strip now!"
Rainey paled, then flushed, her trembling obedient fingers moving of their own accord. She slid her soaked jacket off first, one sodden sleeve at a time, and he could see lace under silk then, and skin under that. It was over. His hand shot out and went around her waist, dragging her to him so quickly her breath caught in her throat. He pulled her stumbling against the warm strength of him, and stood holding her there in that spot, letting her feel him, making her warm, making the front of his own shirt wet, breathing her in. When his fingers left trails of gooseflesh on their way to the top button of her blouse, she made a single attempt to stop his progress, placing a slender hand over his and looking up at him. His fingers were warm against her freezing skin. Suddenly, in a single fluid movement, both of her wrists were grasped in a single big hand and chickenwinged behind her, and with one swift yank at the V of the silk blouse the buttons popped and went flying in all directions. "HEY!" she shrieked indignantly, wriggling. He ripped the halves of the blouse down and off, and threw them carelessly to one side. "DARYL!" The hand holding her wrists deftly spun her around as if in a dance, and shoved her face-forward against the cheap wood paneling of the trailer's wall, just hard enough to make an impression, her face and her lace pressed against the grain.
"This is what ya want, aint it?, he growled in her ear. He let the tip of his nose slowly trace the curve of the ear down to the fine damp tendrils of hair beneath. Now the immobilizing hand spun her once more to face him, and his free hand caught her under the chin and forced her to lock eyes with him. "AIN'T it?" he shouted. Her eyes were glowing embers but she still wouldn't answer him, her breathing shallow and fast as he leaned into her and pressed her body fully into the wall with his own. "Answer me, girl!" he demanded, "ain't this why ya here?!" Holding her eyes, he released her chin and slid that palm ever so slowly down the curves and valleys of her form until they reached the waistband of her short black skirt, then continued down to the hem. He inched the material up until he could feel the lace of her panties. Still holding her gaze, his fingers slipped inside to touch the soft folds that were at her center. He grinned at the wetness he found. "YEAH it is, already soaked for me, aint ya, lil girl.." A fine flush suffused her face and she tried to look away, her mouth trembling wordlessly. One knee pushed its way between her legs, forcing them further apart and giving him more room to explore her dripping wet cunt. She flinched and tried to wiggle her hands free, but they were trapped in his death grip. "Daryl, stop it!" she hissed, just above a whisper, her eyes darting to every place their bodies where touching.
He dropped her hands and took a step back. Rainey reflexively jerked her skirt down, and looked doubtfully at the puddle of ruined blouse on the floor at her feet. Daryl let out a sick little laugh, and placed his hands on his hips; his pants had ridden dangerously low in their brief struggle, his glory trail was showing, and he smirked knowingly as he saw where her eyes were. "Rainey, who ARE you trying fool, girl? We both know that's why you're here; it's why you always come here. Your little rich boy done pissed you off, made ya cry them pretty lil eyes out, then ya show up here just like ya always do." She stopped what she was doing to glare at him, and his voice softened. "Tell me I'm wrong, and I'll let ya walk right out that door," he said, knowing he wouldn't be able to.
Rainey snatched the tattered remnants of her blouse and her dignity up off the floor and chucked them at him. "Fuck you, Daryl Dixon, you don't know shit!" she shouted. "And you owe me a fucking new shirt, asshole!" He threw it back at her undaunted, and sniped, "Get ol' rich boy to buy you one, or is that why yer all upset.. did yer sugar daddy take yer credit card away! Aw Rainey, why didn't ya just say that? You poor thing, don't ya know I just feel ten shades of bad for ya, girl! I had no idea it was something so serious." She whipped around at him in a fury and stepped toward him, fists clenched. "Fuck you, Daryl Dixon! Fuck you, you stupid inbred piece of shit!" she yelled as she stepped closer to him. "Inbred or not, don't stop you from showin' up here to jump me every time rich boy fucks up," he snarled in her face.
The first hit caught him on the right side of the jaw, and before he could react, several more landed wild on his chest. "Yeah! Come on girl, get it!" He danced backward three or four steps and allowed her to take swing after swing at him. By the seventh or eighth hit, inarticulate screams of rage had turned into sobs, and by the tenth, her shoulders sagged and she fell into him, hitting her knees on the hard floor. Her arms went around his bare waist, and her tears were scalding against him. Her sobs racked her whole body.
His knees folded, and he went down next to her. "Shhh, shhh, that's it girl, let it all out," he said, as he stroked the top of her head and waited. He was just happy she broke quickly this time. His right cheek smarted; she had tagged him a good one this time, that's for sure. Her sobs had wound down to whimpers, and he knew she was about done. "Come here, girl" he whispered soothingly as he pulled them both to their feet, then bent and scooped her up like a child in his arms. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, locked her arms around his neck, and laid her head on his shoulder.
For the moment, she was home.
He carried her this way to his little room at the end of the hall, booting open the door with his foot. His bed was just an old mattress on the floor with a single threadbare blanket and no soft sheets like he wanted to lay her down on, but he knew she would never have said anything. He sat her down gently of this poor man's nest, and she huddled up, looking down at her hands like a scolded child. He squatted next to her, balancing easily on his heels, considering her, then placed a hand on each of her knees. He ran one hand down her smooth calf to her ankles and the straps of her high-heeled shoes, then he slipped first one, then the other off her manicured feet. "These shoes are fucking useless, ya know that don't ya?" She blinked at him. "How ya supposed to do anything with them on? Surprised ya ain't broke yer skinny neck yet," he complained as he tossed the shoes aside.
Rainey gave a weak little grin at this uncharacteristic display of concern. Daryl did not often mention caring about anyone's safety, but him bitching about the shoes was the next best thing. She placed the palm of her hand on his cheek and rubbed her thumb over the scruff of his beard, at which he turned his face and kissed her palm, rewarding him with a real smile from her lips. "I've missed you," she said in a whisper he pretended not to hear, as he reached behind her and unsnapped her bra.
She shivered as the air hit her bare breasts, and he placed a hand on her shoulder, pushing her lengthwise. She leaned back on her elbows and raised her butt up off the mattress for him, so he could slide the skirt down and off. "You always wear such purty things" he drawled, as his fingers slid into the sides of her lacey red panties, pulling them down her long legs. Then, he crumbled them up in his hand and stuffed them into his pocket. "Daryl!" she exclaimed, pretending indignance. "Fer safe keepin'" he explained with a wink. Then, he crawled languidly up the length of her body, till he was lying fully on top of her, supporting his weight with his elbows and knees.
They stared into each other for a long, long moment, speaking volumes while saying nothing. He ran his thumb across her cheek, rearranging watercolor patterns of raindrop and mascara and tear, as she traced her fingers over the map of scars on his back, knowing the terrain by heart, remembering the stories that went with them, one of the few living souls who knew. The scars had been fresh the first time he let her touch them; he had always let her do almost anything she wanted. Almost.
He began his descent into her slowly, kissing her between the eyes with a touch like molten silver, sliding lips across her brow and along the edge of her hair to her temple, bending his face into the hollow of her neck, nibbling at that spot he knew always made her forget about the world. A low moan escaped her at the first touch of his lips, and when his tongue made contact with her skin, her hips instantly pushed off the mattress and ground into his jean covered cock. He growled into her neck and bit down, causing her to screech in pleasure. "Please, Daryl," she gasped, writhing helplessly, trying to hold him closer and get away all at once. "What do ya want girl, ya gotta tell me what ya want," he murmured against her collarbone, swirling his way down to the hollow between her breasts, then taking one into his mouth, drawing deeply, making her hiss. "Please.. make it better, make it all go away, I need you in me NOW!"
She moaned as he bit down on her nipple, then lifted his face to her with a knowing grin. "Ya sure lil girl? Ya sure ya ready for me? I kinda wanted ta taste ya a bit.." Daryl made his way tongue first down her belly toward his favorite dinner. She grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back up to her, and captured his mouth with hers. She broke this fervent kiss only to let out squeak of "Now! Please, please!" while she reached between them to unbutton his jeans and used her feet to push them down.
There was the prize, and what a prize it was too. It had shocked her the first time she saw it, because of its magnificent girth, she was convinced there was no way it would ever fit inside of her.. but then again, he had been her very first. They had been very young at the time, and that was long ago now, but from that night to this she hadn't had one bigger, nor one that satisfied. She reached down to grab it, but he yanked her hands above her head. She arched like a writhing cat, whining in need, rubbing the smooth skin of her pelvis against his cock, and then the swollen lips of her pussy. This time, he hissed. "Look at me, Rainey," he demanded. "LOOK!" Her eyes snapped open at his sharp tone. "Don't you close your eyes! I want you seeing who's taking you! I want you to see ME, Rainey!" There was pain in his voice that stopped her. His eyes where pleading now. Wiggling one hand free of his grasp, Rainey touched him in the center of his forehead, over his third eye, the one that knew everything. Her lips moved soundlessly: I see you. Then she took his face in both hands and put burning lips where her fingertip had just been.
The move was simple, eloquent, and Daryl's undoing. He cried out, released her hands, twitched his hips, and sank to the hilt in her with one deep thrust, the head of his cock slamming into her aching cervix hard enough to make her wince in pain, filling her so that she thought she might once again break and give way before him. She sucked in a raw and sobbing breath at the sweetest of agonies, writhing beneath him. He withdrew a couple of inches, slowly, and stopped, catching her eye. Remembering, he placed one hand on her throat, tightened his grip just enough, and slammed back home. Her scream vibrated the tendons under his hand. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, arching for a better angle and holding on for dear life, searching for that spot, finding it, screaming again when he brushed against it. "There it is, GIVE it to me," Daryl growled, demanding, as he spread her wider than she thought she could go, plunging into her again and again, relentless in his pursuit. Rainey, lost, carried on his tide, and the spasms beginning. "Daryl I can't oh god Daryl I can't.." she begged to uncaring ears. "GIVE me it Rainey! Now. Come on," he rasped, the sweat dripping, raising his torso enough to add his fingers to the mix, making hard circles over her exposed nub. Five little circles was all it took, and she levitated in his arms, the sound something like a wild animal being attacked by a demon in the night. Seizing and crying and squirting all over his cock, the mattress was soaked.
Rainey wept, and he kissed her cheeks tenderly, tasting the salt, and pulling out of her with a grin, made as if to roll her over. "No more Daryl, I can't," she gasped, shaking her head, trying to remember how to breathe. "Ain't done with ya yet, girl," he said as he flipped her onto her belly like a sticky rag doll, with one fluid motion. Moaning, she tried to slither away from him, but he hooked one arm under her and yanked her mid-section up till she was forced onto all fours. "Daryl please I.." she panted, dizzy and tingling, her eyes rolling back, knowing what was coming. "..oh yes you CAN," Daryl affirmed as he impaled her clenched pussy once again. Rainey wailed his name, and he let a moan that sounded more animal than human. He held her to him for a moment, her warm pink ass flush against him, as he enjoyed the pulsing contractions her wet cunt was throwing out. Then he began to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into her, pounding her until she couldn't stay on all fours and dropped, causing him to crash on top of her, but still he wouldn't, couldn't stop. He yanked hard on her hair and bit fiercely into her shoulder and she bellowed like a beast, the second wave steamrolling her, screaming into the mattress, and then, that was all he could do, and he joined her. She moaned as she felt his seed hit her walls. The primal female in her knew, there was something about possessing a part of such a man in your innermost tender center, which was just too much for her; her body seized up for a final orgasm, brought on by his.
Utterly spent, Daryl rolled over onto his back to stare silently at the ceiling, leaving her to shake and twitch next to him. She rolled into a fetal position, facing him. He glanced over at her, saw the naked emotion and rivulets of tears, and said solemnly, "Did I hurt ya, Rainey? I didn't mean to .." He ran a thumb over her wet and scalding cheek. She slowly shook her head no, and nuzzled into his hand. "..Daryl, I want to come home. Please don't make me go back" He sighed, having known this part was coming, too. He rolled back onto his back, sat up, and began pulling his pants back on, saying nothing as he reached for his smokes on the makeshift milk crate nightstand. He lit one, running his hands over his face, exhaling a draw before answering somberly. "..this aint your home no more, Rainey. It ain't never gonna be again girl, you don't belong here."
Rainey sat up, wrapping her legs around his waist, pressing her bare, sweaty breasts into his scarred back, kissing his spine, continuing in earnest. "Please, Daryl. I'm so miserable, that's not my home, he isn't home, you are, you've always been where I was supposed to be, I'm your girl Daryl, I'm yours why are you making me do this, I love you," and the words tumbled into each other and cascaded, as she pleaded a case she knew he had no interest in hearing again. "Ya ain't my girl Rainey, you're his girl. He can give you the life you deserve. I can't give you nothing. I ain't nothing and I aint never gonna be nothing."
"That's not true, Dary-." She was cut off mid-sentence, as he pushed his way off the bed and stepped to his dresser. "You had your fun, Rainey. It's time to go now." His tone was cold, merciless and to the point, and she knew there was no arguing with him. He yanked a pair of boxers and an old "Inner Circle" band T-shirt out of the drawer and slammed it shut. He turned, quickly tossing them at her. "You heard me, let's go. I got yer shit, come on," he said, as he grabbed up her shoes and the remnants of what she'd been wearing when she got there, and marched out the door, not looking at her.
Rainey put on his clothes and followed slowly, numb. Daryl tossed her belongings in the passenger seat of the Jag, and turned around in time to see her make her way barefoot down his old stairs. His T-shirt hung almost to her knees, and made her look like a child. She didn't make eye contact with him as she walked by, got in her car and sat there, staring blindly through her tears at the console. He made his way back across the darkened yard and up to the porch, and just as he opened his door, he thought he heard her shout "I hate you, Daryl Dixon!" followed the slam of her door and the engine roaring to life as she sped away.
"I hope ya do, girl," he whispered, as his fist hit the trailer wall.