Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from The Walking Dead. They belong to the creators of the comic series and television show. I'm just borrowing them for my own entertainment, and I hope that others will enjoy my take on them as well. Thanks to the creators of show for giving us such amazing characters with such depth.
Author's Note: This is my first attempt at an AU Walking Dead story, so let me know what you think. Any suggestions are, of course, welcomed!
No Regrets
Carol Peletier was on the prowl. She'd never done this, never tried to pick up men at a bar, because frankly, she'd found it trashy and completely void of class. She'd never really been one for drinking, which was why she'd had one glass of wine to calm her nerves and had nursed a glass of ice water for the rest of the night.
Her sights were set on the man sitting across from her at the other end of the bar. His long hair fell into his eyes when he looked down at his beer, and when he would peer up, looking at her through the curtain of soft, brain hair, she felt a blot of white heat run from her thundering heart straight to her throbbing core. She wasn't quite certain if it was the man throwing occasional glances her way or if it was the fact that she was planning on cheating on her husband that had her so worked up, but whatever it was was doing things to her that she'd never felt before.
She'd been a devoted wife for the past twelve years, and then a week ago, she'd discovered her husband was screwing his secretary. It was so disgusting and so cliché. Instead of confronting him about it, she'd thought on it for a week and had finally decided that there had to be more to life than being the wife of Ed Peletier and the receptionist at Dr. Rhee's office downtown.
Turn about was fair play, after all, and if he could have fun on the side, so could she. It didn't have to mean anything. Just one good fuck, and maybe then she'd have the curiosity out of her system so she could think with a level head. She'd probably leave Ed, but at least she could have a little fun first.
Carol's cell phone beeped, and she realized she had a text from her best friend, Michonne. She checked her messages and found herself laughing as she scrolled through Michonne's last five texts.
Carol? Did you kill Ed yet?
Come on, girl, give me the juicy details. What'd he say when u told him?
Really? Ur not gonna tell your best friend?
Carol! CAROL?! Answer your messages, damn it!
Ok, if you don't reply in the next five minutes, I'm gonna assume you killed him and need help hiding the body, and that's why you aren't answering your texts. Just let me know if I need to bring plastic wrap and a shovel. Love you, girl!
Carol typed out a quick response.
Mich, I'm fine. I didn't confront Ed. Maybe later. Right now, I have a better idea.
It wasn't even a minute later when Michonne responded back.
If Andre wasn't teething and having a total toddler meltdown, I'd be there for you. Call me if you need me, k? Love you.
Carol smiled and shook her head, texting her to tell her she loved her too. When she put the phone down, she looked back up to see him staring at her. A little smile quirked up on her lips, and she took another sip of ice water as a warm flush filled her cheeks.
She stood up, gathering her courage, and she straightened out the little black dress she'd chosen. Perhaps that was a bit cliché, too, but she really didn't care. The more she noticed him watching her, the more her confidence boosted. Here she was, mid-forties, and she was eyeing this guy across the bar. There was something sexy about the way he watched her, his eyes playing over her like he was memorizing her or something. She felt a chill run down her spine, and her knees felt weak as she walked around the bar, moving in on him.
"Is this seat taken?"
"Don't look like it," he said coolly, his eyes moving from her face down to the obvious cleavage. That dress didn't leave much to the imagination, and she suddenly felt a little foolish, but the way he was looking at her cleared that up right away. The feeling of foolishness quickly gave way to feeling desired. She sat down next to him, and he watched her cross and uncross her legs, as if she was trying to figure out exactly which was the best way to sit. She didn't do this often. Hell, she probably never did this before in her life, he figured, and he couldn't help but smirk. "Name's Daryl."
"I'm Carol. And that's really all we need to know about each other, am I right?" The tone of her voice was inviting, sultry, and he felt his dick twitch in his pants. She looked around. "I've never been here before."
"Me neither," he muttered, taking another swig of his beer. He made a mental note that he'd be coming back for more often if she was going to start coming around, too. Carol tapped her fingers nervously on the bar counter, and he eyed her, watching the way she chewed her lip nervously. His eyes moved from her lips to her long, creamy neck. He eyed her hair, styled short and a little spiky, grey but gorgeous. Her makeup was subtle, but he could tell she'd put it on with an heir of uncertainty about herself. No, this woman wasn't the kind of woman who picked up strangers in a bar. He could tell by the way she looked over her shoulder, almost as if she were expecting someone to walk through the door.
She intrigued him. He hadn't even come looking for a hook up, but when he'd set his sights on her, his body had come up with a whole other game plan for the evening.
She licked her lips and gently rubbed the back of her neck, and he felt himself get a little harder in his pants. Carol noticed the way he adjusted himself on the bar stool, and her eyes were immediately drawn down to his erection, which he tried to cover casually with his coat.
"You wanna get out of here?" she asked, her gaze raking up his body from his groin to his lips, and he let out a muffled choking sound before nodding. He stood up off the barstool and removed his coat, wrapping it around her shoulders instinctively. She glanced up at him as his eyes bore down on hers, and she smiled a little.
"S'cold outside," he muttered, feeling like a complete idiot. She wants sex, you dumbass, not a knight in shining armor.
"Thanks. That's sweet," she said carefully. She eyed the door, and he followed her gaze. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
The nerves were coiling in her stomach when Daryl slid the keycard into the hotel room door. They'd gotten a nice room, and the elevator ride up to the thirteenth floor had been the most awkward forty seconds of their lives. Now, as they walked inside, Carol shrugged Daryl's coat off into a chair, tossed her handbag down with it and turned to face him.
"I've never done this before," she admitted. Yeah, like he really believes that. He's probably heard plenty of women tell him that before.
"I figured," he said quietly, his hands moving to her waist, trying to figure out how he'd let himself get into this situation. He'd never done this before either, and his trembling hands were probably giving him away.
"Yeah? How so?" she asked.
"You don't look like the kind of woman that picks up guys a lot. Plus, you're wearin' a wedding ring." Carol's eyes flashed down to the gold band on her finger.
"Oh," she murmured. She slid it off her finger, staring at it for a good few seconds before putting it down on the nightstand. "Does that bother you?" He shrugged a little.
"Dunno. All I figure is that a guy must've done somethin' pretty stupid to piss you off this much."
"Who says he pissed me off?"
"You looked pissed off when you walked in the bar," he said quietly. Carol raised an eyebrow. "I was sittin' somewhere else when you came in. When I saw you sit at the bar, I moved." Carol smiled a little. Her hands moved up his arms and over his broad shoulders, feeling the way his muscles jumped under her touch. She saw a look of pure anxiety cross over his face when she leaned toward him, but when her hand moved to caress his cheek, she saw him relax a little.
She pressed her lips against his, tentatively at first, but when she decided she quite liked the feeling of his lips, she ran her tongue over his lower lip, getting him to open up to her. She moaned softly when his hands gripped her hips and pulled her in close, his tongue darting out to caress hers. She could taste a sweetness behind the bitterness of the beer he'd been drinking, and she let herself get taken over by the sensation of another man's lips on hers, kissing her in a way she'd never been kissed before.
His hands moved to rest on her upper arms, and she noticed how calloused and worn with work they were, and she liked the feeling of them against her smooth skin. His mouth was on her neck now, and she arched her neck, reveling in the sensation of his tongue, lips and teeth working together. When his mouth moved to her ear, her knees nearly gave out.
Daryl's hand was on her back now, and she heard the sound of the zipper teeth opening up as he worked. As he pulled the zipper down, he trailed his fingers along after it, feeling her smooth skin, hearing the soft moans escape her lips, and when the zipper went down as far as it could go, he pulled back, looking into her eyes, as if begging the question of if she really wanted to go through with it. It touched her somehow. This stranger she met in a bar seemed to have more courtesy for her dignity than her own husband did, and when she gave him a little nod, he gently slipped the dress off her shoulders, and it pooled to the floor at her feet, leaving her standing in her bra and panties, a nice, lacy black set she'd picked out just for this night.
She stood before him, the cool air in the room hitting her and nearly knocking the wind out of her. His gaze dragged from her face down her body, his face reddening a little as he saw her chest heave, her breasts pushing at the thin fabric of her bra. His mouth watered, and he pulled her in close, kissing her neck, feeling the waves of desire pulling him under. He might not have been a man who went home with women he didn't know very often, but he sure as hell was a man, and this woman was something special.
She shivered under his gaze when he pulled back again, but he simply ran his hands down her shoulder and down her waist, tugging her closer, kissing the spot between her shoulder and her right breast, his tongue tasting her skin, making her knees feel weaker by the moment.
"Oh," she murmured, her hands dragging through his hair, tightening just enough to let him know that this was a very, very good feeling. He grunted, and they were walking—her forward, him backward—toward the bed. The back of his knees hit the mattress, and he fell back, bringing her down on top of him. The feel of her pressed against him wasn't something he was prepared for, and when her hips brushed against his erection, he groaned, hoping to hell he'd be able to hold on, because this was sure to be one hell of a ride.
The moment she felt his erection pressed against her hip, it became very real to her. She pulled back a little, the first hint of uncertainty in her eyes, and he rested his head back against the pillow. Her hands curled against the neck of his shirt, and she suddenly wanted to feel him, skin-to-skin against her. She knew she was cheating on her husband, and she knew she might have regrets in the morning, but tonight, there would be no regrets. She was going to let herself feel, she was going to pick up the pieces of her shattered confidence, and she was going to follow her wants, her needs. She'd spent way too long trying to be the kind of wife that she thought Ed wanted, when it seemed she'd never really known him to begin with.
Her hands moved to help him out of his shirt. His fingers caught her wrist, and she froze.
"I didn't bring…I mean, I wasn't fixin' to meet nobody tonight." Carol moved off of him, walking across the room to the chair she'd discarded his coat and her handbag into. She grabbed the purse and fumbled with the latch before pulling out a couple of condoms. His eyes watched hers as she blushed a little. She'd come out with one purpose tonight, and he was suddenly wondering if he was up to fulfilling her needs in the way she needed them to be fulfilled.
She crossed the room again, placing the little packets on the bedside table. He tugged at her waist, pulling her back down on him, and they worked together to rid him of his shirt. When she tossed it away, her fingers gently brushed over the coarse hair of his chest, feeling the firm muscles underneath, and she leaned down, kissing him hungrily. He groaned when her knee brushed his groin, and she gave him a sheepish smile before scooting down a little, kissing his neck and his chest, taking one of his nipples between her teeth. He hissed in a sharp breath, and when Carol swirled her tongue around his nipple, he clutched the sheets, feeling like he might come in his pants right then, and then it would all be over in one embarrassing, messy second.
Her hands were on his belt now, her lithe fingers working at the buckle before moving off of him so he could raise his hips and she could slide it out through the loops. He groaned when she settled back down, her knees framing his hips, his erection straining against his jeans, her heat seeping through the material, overwhelming him.
Suddenly, his hands were on her hips, and he was turning her to lay on her back, and he was kissing her, feeling her fingers dig into his shoulder as he moved south, kissing the hollow of her neck, the valley between her breasts, the skin above her belly button, the skin above the band of her panties, and she gasped when she felt his hot breath hit her. She leaned forward, propping herself on her elbows, watching as he slipped a finger inside of her panties, drawing up her hot slickness with his index finger. That one swipe had her heart nearly beating out of her chest, and she cried out, her core throbbing, needing release.
He pulled his pants down, kicking them off and pushing his underwear along with them, and her eyes flickered with passion when she saw the length of him bobbing in front of him, the head swollen and dark. She felt herself growing wetter at the thought that he was like that for her, and that he wanted this in the way she wanted it.
His fingers slid into the band of her panties, and she moved her hips to help him slide them off of her. She spread her legs in front of him, and he noticed the way her thighs trembled, and he gently ran his hands up her legs before settling his hips down against hers. His lips met hers again in a gentle kiss, and she whimpered softly against his mouth. He reached over onto the nightstand, grabbing one of the packets. He tore it open, slipping the condom out, and he rolled to his side, and she watched as he slid it over his length, worrying for a moment if it was big enough. He was a good deal larger than Ed, and she suddenly felt a rush of panic at the thought of taking him in.
When the condom was finally on, he looked at her, his face red, his chest heaving, and she stroked his shoulder. He moved over her again, kissing her, pulling down the cups of her bra to expose her hardened, pink nipples, which he took into his mouth one at a time, teasing into even harder little buds as she trembled against him, her breaths coming in uneven, shallow gasps as she tried desperately to keep herself from flipping him over and impaling herself on him.
She arched her back up, and she helped him unclasp her bra. He quickly discarded it over his shoulder and claimed her lips with his own once more.
He was pushing at her center now, and she gasped, her hands gripping his upper arms.
"Gentle," she said softly. "Please." He pressed his forehead against her shoulder as he eased into her, marveling at the way she tightened around him as he filled her. She cried out at the pain of him stretching her, and he pulled his head back.
"I'm hurtin' you," he murmured. She shook her head desperately, her grip on his arms tightening.
"No. Don't stop. Just…don't." She bit her lip and arched her back as he continued moving into her, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as her slick, hot walls enveloped him.
When he'd pushed in as far as he could go, he looked down at her again, seeing the way her mouth fell open as she struggled for breath, the way her eyes were shut, adjusting to the new feeling of him being inside of her, and he became entranced by the way her breasts moved as her chest trembled and heaved with each gasp for air.
Lowering his face down next to hers, he pressed soft kisses to her jaw and her ear as he let her adjust. When he felt her fingers relax on his arm, he began to move inside of her.
The sensation of being filled completely by him was overpowering. She felt tears spring to her eyes as the discomfort gave way to pleasure, and as he moved slowly, she felt the waves surging up on her, an orgasm approaching faster than she'd expected, and when she wrapped one leg around his hip, the angle brought about a new sensation of pleasure, as he stroked a bundle of nerves somewhere inside of her that had her clenching tightly around him.
"Fuck," he grunted against her neck, his pace quickening as he felt his balls already starting to tighten. She cried out helplessly as his hand moved between them, his thumb finding her clit and stroking it in small circles, trying to help her get there before him, so it wouldn't all be for nothing.
When he felt a rush of warmth surrounding him, followed by her head throwing back against the pillow, he knew she'd come over the edge, so he grabbed her hips and held on for dear life. He picked up the pace just a little, not wanting to hurt her, but when her nails dug into his shoulder, he took that as a sign and picked up the pace.
"Yeah," she cried out. "Oh God. Daryl, harder." With a grunt, Daryl slammed into her, hearing her cries against his neck. She wrapped herself around him, needing more of him, needing to keep feeling this inexplicable pleasure.
He captured her lips with his own as she cried her own pleasure out into his mouth, and within moments of her walls squeezing around him again, he came, and he stilled inside of her, collapsing against her, feeling the heat of her body mixed with his as their ragged breaths became the only sounds in the room.
Daryl rolled off of her, turning to his side, sliding off the condom and depositing it into the trash can. She looked away while he did so, feeling a little awkward now, but when he turned back toward her, she turned to face him, and he pulled her close.
"You're amazing," she murmured, tracing his jaw with her fingertips.
"You're pretty amazin' yourself," he said with a sleepy smile. She grinned and leaned in to kiss him, feeling a little overwhelmed at what she'd just done. But when his hands moved over her bare back, she relaxed, and she let herself feel his strong arms wrapping around her.
"I shouldn't stay," she murmured.
"You don't have to go," he offered. "We got this room all night." She smiled when he kissed her neck again. His hands were moving over her, and she couldn't think, and at this moment, she didn't want to. She just let him pull her against him, let his mouth claim hers, make her his for this moment, for the night. She knew it would all be gone tomorrow, but she could enjoy it now.
So, she curled herself into him and willed herself to stop thinking and stop worrying. It was just sex. She'd never see him again after tomorrow. What was the harm in staying one night?
