The house was a hidden gem in the forest. It was miracle, really, that it hadn't been taken yet, considering how surprisingly well secluded it was, tucked away from the main roads and in between cities away from the big herds. It looked like a safe place, large enough to house all of them comfortably, for a while anyway. Winter was coming and it would be good to have the protection of four walls and a roof when the temperature dropped.
Carol found it surprisingly easy to adjust to their new 'home'. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she couldn't image living anywhere else than the small house that Ed and she had bought after they had married, the house she had decorated and made a home. She had pretty much resigned herself to the fact that she was going to die there, whether it was of old age or by her husband's hands, she hadn't quite figured out yet.
And then the world ended and they had been forced to abandon their home. Ed had died and Sophia was gone and suddenly she was moving around constantly with a group of people she considered a family of sorts and everywhere she could sleep safely was good enough for her, even more so when she had been alone. Any place that gave her chance to close her eyes without being afraid of being woken by a walker chewing on her face was like a little piece of heaven.
A house this big, this far away from everything and with a basement that even held a very meager food supply, it was almost perfect. Perfect enough that she could have a room with a door and an actual bed with soft sheets and warm blankets. Aside from a layer of dust, the room was clean and devoid the permanent smell of death and decay. Carol brought that scent in herself, but she didn't care about that. For the first time in a long while she felt like she didn't have to run, like she wouldn't have to leave the next day or the next week. They really could hole up here for the winter.
She dumped her rifle by the door and her pack beside it. Rick and the group had given her first pick of the room as a sort of payback for her rescue operation at Terminus. She hadn't chosen the biggest room, but she had chosen one with a double bed and an adjoining bathroom. It was possibly a bit selfish, but she felt that she could allow herself to be just a little selfish.
The small revolver went on the nightstand as did her knife. For the first time in weeks, she didn't have any weapons on her and it felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulders, but she felt naked at the same time, unprotected even though the house had been cleared and there weren't any walkers around for a few miles. Maybe a few stragglers, but they would handle those if they came close.
Sinking down on the bed, she lets her hands wander over the blankets. She never would have been able to buy something this decadent. They didn't have the money and Ed would never have allowed it, not when Carol would reap the benefits as well. Back then she could barely imagine another life and now she can't understand how she ever lived that life, trapped in an abusive relationship that she had no way of getting out of, not while she had Sophia. In a way the end of the world was the beginning of her freedom.
She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and enter her room. The door closed and Carol didn't need to look up to see who it was. She knew. There was only one person in their group who would enter her room without knocking.
"Hey," Daryl said quietly as he placed his crossbow next to her rifle. Wordlessly it had been decided that they would bunk together by the group and by themselves. It was only natural. The two of them, they understood each other better than anyone else did. They would walk through fire for each other. They basically had. She cared more for him than any of the others as horrible as that sounded.
"Hi pookie," she returned with a small smile, watching as he rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop himself from smiling back at her. He wasn't nearly as objectionable to her little jabs, her little flirtations as he had been. Still, she almost missed the way he would tell her to stop, when he avoided her gaze as if he were afraid that she would catch his embarrassment. It had been awfully cute. The big redneck hunter embarrassed by a mousy housewife.
They had both changed so much and yet they were still so very much the same.
She followed his movements with her eyes, how he took off his other weapons and placed them on the other nightstand next to an alarm clock that had stopped working a long time ago, its batteries dead. Next he shed his vest, the signature wings still very recognizable underneath all the grime as he draped it over the backboard of the bed, followed by his denim jacket and his button up, leaving him in just his shirt. He looked good, thinner than he had when she had first met him, but stronger too. His muscles were more defined. It looked good, really good.
Carol looked away from him, feeling a heat rise up on her cheeks. He was attractive, not in a conventional way, but she definitely found him attractive. And she had definitely checked him out on several occasions, how could she not? But it had been from afar or in the open air. It had definitely not been in a bedroom with a closed a door and more than enough privacy for something more than a little innocent ogling.
His shoes fell to the floor with dull thumps and for a moment Carol feared that he would undress completely right in front of her, but instead he came to stand in front of her and kneeled down, his hands going to her boots.
"What are you doing?" she asked, tempted to pull her foot out of his grasp. It felt weird, him on his knees in front of her. He looked up at her through his stringy hair and she had the ridiculous urge to push his hair out of his eyes. Maybe he would allow her to cut his hair later. The length had to be annoying him in fights or when he was killing walkers.
"Taking off your boots," he replied as if it were the most normal thing in the world. It was a thing he did, like that time he had massaged her shoulder after they had taken the prison yard or the Cherokee rose. He did these random acts of kindness that seemed to go against the image he portrayed to the world and yet suited him perfectly and now he was easing her boots off her feet, dumping them on the floor. Her socks were dirty and the right one had a hole in it and she had the ridiculous urge to hide them, even though his socks weren't in any better shape.
She mentally kicked herself. Like Daryl would care about her socks of all things. She bit her bottom lip and looked at him, his hand still holding her ankle and she suddenly became painfully aware of the fact that she hadn't shaved her legs in God knows how long. She wondered if he noticed. She wondered if he cared.
"You should take a shower. Never know when the running water is going to quit," Daryl grumbled, raising himself up and sitting down next to her on the bed, his thigh pressing against her own. Carol knew he meant well, telling her to go take a shower, but she couldn't resist making fun of him, just a little, just to diffuse the sudden tension that had filled the room.
"Are you saying that I smell?" she asked seriously, sounding a little hurt. She knew she smelled, they all did. They carried the stink of rotten flesh and dried blood, of sweat and dirt. For a moment Daryl look properly embarrassed before he realized she was kidding and he bumped her with his shoulder, chuckling softly.
"No, woman, I'm saying that you stink, but since you went all warrior princess and saved our asses, I figured I would offer you the first shower." Warrior princess? God she hoped that wasn't going to become her nickname. That was terrible, but she appreciated the sentiment and smiled up at him. The look of utter affection on his face quickly made her look away.
"Thank you. That's very sweet of you," she said softly and leaned her head against his shoulder. He tensed for a moment, the way he always did, before he relaxed and allowed his cheek to rest against the top of her head, tentatively wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her just a little a closer. Carol let him. Daryl wasn't one for physical affection, so this was a kind of a big step and she wanted to savor the moment of being this close to him when neither of them was hurt and it wasn't driven by desperation.
She sighed and placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, feeling it beat underneath her palm, calm and steady. If she closed her eyes, focusing just on the regular beat of his heart and the rhythm of his breathing, safe from all harm with his arm wrapped around her, she could almost imagine that the dead weren't walking around, that those who were still living hadn't turned into monsters and that she was happy.
"We're gonna be okay," Daryl whispered into her hair. Carol had half a mind to echo back his words from the prison like she had before, but what he had said so quietly, his grip on her waist tightening briefly, it was exactly what she needed to hear. It wasn't that she was hitting rock bottom or anything like it, but every once in a while it was nice to have an affirmation of their capabilities or their talent and will to survive.
Pulling her head back from his shoulder, she looked up at him and smiled weakly, nodding just once. "Yeah, we are." Before she could think about it, she leaned up and gave him a soft kiss, his lips dry and chapped and unmoving against her own. It wasn't until she suddenly felt his heartbeat speed up that Carol realized what she had done and pulled back, her eyes wide and her breath caught in her throat.
Daryl sat frozen. He hadn't pulled back, he hadn't stormed off. He just sat there as if he were immobilized, his hand still on her waist. Carol searched his face, wondering what he was thinking. He didn't look angry or shocked, which was something. He looked contemplative and she felt like an idiot. She was scrambling for the right words to say to him and she couldn't think of any. This was not what she had been planning to do even if it was what she had wanted to do.
"I - -," she tried and didn't get any further, but the sound of her voice seemed to have unfrozen Daryl. The hand that wasn't resting on her waist came up to carefully cup her cheek, his palm rough against her skin, weathered from so many fights. Carol couldn't read the expression on his face, didn't fully understand the look in his eyes until he closed the distance between them and captured her lips in a kiss that was most definitely deliberate.
Carol inhaled sharply, her fingers curling in his shirt as she held him close, her eyes falling shut. She was kissing Daryl, actually kissing him. This wasn't some silly bluff where she offered him to screw around, this was actually happening and it was so much better than she could have imagined. They were both in desperate need of shower and a shave and possibly some lip balm, but she didn't care. This was all she needed.
When his tongue swiped against her lips, she was eternally grateful that she was already sitting down. Without a moment of hesitation, she parted her lips and allowed him to deepen the kiss, his tongue meeting hers. He was surprisingly tender and sweet as if he were afraid he would hurt her somehow and she knew that in the back of his mind he was thinking about the times he had seen her husband hit her, had seen the fresh bruises when he came back from the hunt. Somewhere in his head she was still a victim, someone he needed to protect.
She would just have remind him that she wasn't. Not anymore. She was no longer fragile, afraid of her husband's shadow, afraid of guns. She was a survivor, just like him. They had survived the abuse and they were surviving the end of the world and now she wanted to feel alive and she wanted to feel it with him.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Carol pulled him on top of her as she lay down. She felt Daryl hesitate for a moment, before he relax and settled between her legs, his weight heavy and comforting on top of her. God, she was glad that they were doing this in a place where they had door between them and the rest of the group. She had stopped caring about the lack of privacy very quickly, but she really didn't want an audience for this. This was just for them.
Daryl broke the kiss, looking down at her with an expression she had never seen on his face before, not when Sophia was missing, not when he had carried her to safety, not after she had saved them all from Terminus. Something had changed, as if he was finally allowing himself to feel what they both had known existed between them. Playfully she nudged her nose against his, getting a grin from him in return.
They kissed again, her fingers tangling in his hair which she was definitely going to cut soon whether he liked it or not. Her thighs pressed against his hips and she could feel herself getting aroused. She hadn't gotten aroused by another person in so long. She could barely remember the last time, but this was Daryl and that made everything different.
One of his hands slipped under her shirt, gently caressing her skin, tracing her ribs which thanks to the end of the world were far more prominent than they had ever been. She hummed quietly, trying to encourage him. Thankfully he understood that and started pushing up her shirt. Pulling back from the kiss, Carol wriggled underneath him, helping him take her shirt off and toss it on the floor.
Her bra had definitely seen better days and it too was in desperate need of a wash, but Daryl seemed undeterred by this. He had never struck as the kind of man who would care about fancy underwear anyway. He had seen her in her bra before, the complete and utter lack of privacy being the culprit of that, but now he was looking at her like he had just uncovered a treasure and was afraid to touch it, afraid it wasn't real.
She pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before she started tugging his shirt off, revealing the scars on his torso, scars he had once tried to hide back on Hershel's farm, mementos of his father's abuse, the same way she carried the scars of Ed's abuse. Even know he seemed self-conscious about them. He had spent his entire life hiding them, it wasn't surprising that he wouldn't be comfortable showing them now.
"Look," she whispered, taking his hand and guiding to the scar on her ribs from a time where Ed had kicked her hard enough to split skin and then to a thin white line just above her hip. There were a few more on her back, but Carol figured it got the point across, even though her scars paled in comparison to his. "I have them too."
He nodded and relaxed as she ran her hands over his back, feeling the raised skin there as well. She didn't even want to think about what his father had done to him. He seemed to know what she was thinking and kissed her again, fiercer this time, harder. The kind of kiss that made her toes curl and took her breath away as he ran his hands over arms, her shoulder, his fingers brushing over the edge of her bra, before searching the outline of her hardened nipples.
Carol gasped at the sensation, feeling nerve-endings awaken that she had almost forgotten she had, her nails digging into the skin of his back as rolled her hips. Daryl groaned into mouth when she brushed against his erection. She slipped a hand between their bodies, her fingers brushing against the evidence of his arousal. His hips jerked into her touch and he softly squeezed her breasts. She arched up underneath him and moaned quietly, giving him the space he needed to get a hand under her back and unclasp her bra. It quickly joined the other items of clothing on the floor.
The feeling of his bare chest against her breasts, against her hard nipples was overwhelming. It felt amazing to have skin to skin contact again, to smell him underneath the dirt and the grime, to hold him close. She never wanted to let him go.
"Can I - -?" he asked almost shyly, gesturing towards her trousers. Carol smiled at the way he seemed so innocent all of a sudden as if he had never done this. Maybe he hadn't, at least not like this. Not when it meant something and this definitely meant something for both of them. It explained why he was so careful with her. He didn't want to hurt her or be insensitive, not realizing that Carol knew he would never hurt her. He had scared her at times and he had lashed out at her, but he had never really hurt her and she knew that he never would.
"Yeah," she replied. "You can."
Daryl fumbled a little with the button and the zipper, his fingers trembling ever so slightly, but he managed to get both undone. Hooking his fingers in the waistband he looked at her expectantly. Carol smiled and ran a hand through his hair, lifting her hips so he could get rid of her pants. She watched him drag both her trousers and her panties down her legs in one quick movement and toss them over his shoulder.
His lips curled into a smile before he lay down between her legs again, the fabric of his trousers chafing the inside of her thighs just a little. Daryl kissed her again, his tongue easily finding hers as he moved one of his hands between their bodies, between her legs. He dragged his nails over the short curls he found there, causing Carol to twitch and grip his shoulders. She almost held her breath when his hand moved lower.
"Oh my god," she gasped when his fingers brushed over clit. There was very little finesse to his movements, as if he didn't know exactly what he was doing, but it still felt so good to have his fingers on her sex, circling her clit, sliding down to her entrance, turning her on even more, making her wetter. Judging from the rather smug smile Daryl wore, he knew exactly the effect he was having on her and he was enjoying it.
Carefully he pushed a finger inside her as he lowered his mouth to her breast, kissing the soft skin. Carol threw her head back and moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders. It had been far too long since she had been touched like this, even longer since someone she loved had done it. And now it was Daryl and she never wanted it stop.
Daryl wrapped his lips around her nipple and he flicked his tongue over it, eliciting a groan from Carol. Whatever she had thought it would be like, it paled in comparison to the real thing. Unlike most of the things in their lives, there was nothing beat reality in this case. But it wasn't enough. She wanted more. She wanted him.
She reached for his trousers, undoing the button and the zipper, trying to push them down his hips and failing. His ministrations were too distracting. Giving her nipple one last lick Daryl pulled back, his touch disappearing. Pushing herself up on her elbows, Carol watched as he took off his last pieces of clothing until he was as naked as she was.
Carol met him halfway when he leaned down again, wrapping her arms around his neck, their lips meeting in a slow kiss as she wrapped a hand around his erection, feeling how hot and hard he was. Daryl groaned and pushed her down until she was lying flat on her back again with him hovering over her, looking at her, searching for confirmation that she really wanted this for one last time. Ed had never been that considerate of her. Not even when he had treated her right.
Never looking away from him, she guided him to her entrance, giving him the permission he was seeking. Slowly he pushed inside her. She could feel herself stretching to accommodate him, but the burn wasn't painful, she welcomed it. She welcomed him. It felt inexplicably right to have him inside her, to be wrapped around him, to see him look at her the way he had never looked at anyone else before.
Daryl moaned and buried his face in neck when he was fully inside her, giving them both time to get use to the feeling. Carol was overcome with an overwhelming sense of relief, similar to what she had felt when she had seen Daryl again after Terminus when he had hugged her so tightly she had barely been able to breathe. Only this time she didn't feel like she had to get away from the group, like she had to leave them all again. This time she felt like she had found a home with him.
After a moment where she could only hear their breathing, Daryl started move his hips, lifting his head so he could look at her. She smiled at him as he pulled back, whimpering softly at the feeling. He moaned when he slid back inside her, setting a slow rhythm. She wrapped one arm around his shoulders and one hand on the small of his back, feeling his muscles move underneath her palms with every thrust.
Daryl rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling as he sped up his rhythm. She could feel the room heating up, feel both of them starting to sweat, little drops running down his face and back, forming on her chest. She liked that they were working up a sweat for reasons that weren't life-threatening for once. She liked knowing that even though they were the most cold-blooded killers of the group, their blood still ran hot.
She knew when they started this, it wasn't going to last long. She also knew that it was very doubtful she was going to come, but she didn't mind that. That wasn't why she was doing this. It had been about finally being with him, finally knowing that they belonged together. Besides, they had plenty of time to have some fun. They had a house and they had a room for themselves. They had all winter.
Daryl's movements were starting to become erratic, his thrusts faster, his breathing shallow. He was close, she could feel it in the tension of his muscles, hear it in the sounds he was making. She held onto him, reveling in the way she felt, the way he made her feel, so human, so alive, so loved.
With one last sharp thrust he came, groaning something unintelligible as his eyes closed. Carol held on tightly, resting her head against his shoulder. She felt exhausted and invigorated at the same time. She wanted to sleep for about week, but she also wanted to stay in this moment for a very long time. She wanted it to never stop, feeling the heat of his body, his heavy breathing in her ear. She could stay in this moment forever, not a care in the world.
Carol didn't know how long they stayed like that, probably a lot shorter than she thought, but eventually Daryl moved off her, slipping out of her as he lay down beside her, staring up at the ceiling, a kind of dazed expression on his face. It was kind of adorable, if that was a word one could associate with a man like Daryl Dixon.
"You okay?" she asked rolling onto her side so she could properly look at him. He still had smudges of dirt on his arms, his chest and his face underneath the thin sheen of sweat that covered his skin. They definitely needed a shower now, not in the least because if they came out of their room smelling like sex, they were never going to hear the end of it, not with this group.
Daryl hummed, his eyes focused on an invisible spot on the ceiling. Carol realized this was rather unexpected. Well, it wasn't so much unexpected as it was sudden and it was a lot all at once. It was possible he was having trouble coping. Daryl wasn't known for coping well with emotions, let alone positive ones. She wouldn't be surprised if he distanced himself for a while. As long as he didn't regret it, they'd be fine. They always were, one way or another.
She watched him for a few more moments, not entirely sure if she should expect an answer to her question. She was about to get up for her shower when Daryl moved, rolling onto his side to face her. There was no doubt in his eyes, no apprehension, no distance. He was still Daryl and he wasn't running away. He reached out, caressed her cheekbone with his thumb and Carol couldn't help but lean in to his touch, suppressing a smile. Oh yes, they were going to be more than fine.
"Yeah, I'm good."