Okay, here is that ridiculously long one shot I was telling you about. I'm hoping it helps pass a little time for a friend that had surgery today. Maybe the rest of you will like it to. Either way, thank you for giving it a shot and here's to a safe weekend!
The Middle Finger
Daryl Dixon took another long pull from one of the three bottles he had snagged from Jenner. He was feeling better than he had in a long time physically but mentally he was struggling. He'd lost his brother, of course, so that had a lot to do with it but that wasn't the only thing causing the worry that he was desperately trying to drown.
Something just flat out didn't feel right about this place.
The prospect of living in this place seemed to have risen everyone's spirits. The hope that had sprung up in the eyes of everyone should have had him feeling good but it did nothing but make him more uneasy. Drinking alone in his room wasn't helping matters either. Maybe if he had someone to talk to then his worries would be eased but he was an outsider here, just like Merle had been. He knew how the rest of them looked at him, like he was mud on their boots. Like he was no better than any other white trash asshole that they'd passed on the street. None of them would be able to ease his unfounded worries. He wasn't shit to these assholes. Another gun, maybe. Somebody else to protect their women, when they weren't side eying him to make sure he wasn't planning on hurting any of them himself, of course.
He finished the bottle and stood up, realizing that his hair was still dripping from the shower he'd taken. He hadn't listened to Jenner. He'd used as much hot water as he felt like using. The guy was a fucking weirdo and if Daryl wanted to sleep in the damn shower tonight then that's what he would do.
He left his room, remembering Jenner mentioning a rec room somewhere. He wasn't usually in the mood for company, and if he was being honest, he still wasn't, but he wanted to find something to do that would take his mind off his injured brother. Oh, he knew Merle was out there somewhere and that the big mean bastard would survive. Merle wouldn't die unless it was on Merle's damn terms. Nobody, especially Rick Grimes, was going to take out Merle till Merle was ready to go.
He turned a sharp corner, hitting his shoulder and then tripped right over someone that was huddled there next to the wall. He would have been able to right himself easily if he hadn't drank so damn much but his equilibrium was a little off at the moment and he went sprawling like a grade A jackass. He would be lucky if he didn't have rug burn on his forehead. He laid there for a second, his head swimming strangely, before he rolled over and came up on his elbows.
He blinked and sat up once he set eyes on the person that he had tripped over. Carol Peletier was sitting with her back against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyes as wide as saucers. She seemed to be breathing shallowly and her face was nearly as pale as the wallpaper. She didn't offer an apology, which struck him as odd. He frowned and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet until he was looking down at her. She wasn't looking at him, though. She was staring at the wall and looking like she was desperately searching for her breath.
Realization dawned on him then. He'd overheard her telling Jenner that she was a little claustrophobic. It must have caught up with her and now the woman was in the middle of a pretty intense bout of panic. And maybe if he was a bit more sober he would have walked away but the booze that was warming his blood made him feel like he could possibly do something to help her.
So, he knelt down in front of her and proceeded to thrust the bottle of wine at her, causing her to flinch slightly before her eyes focused on him. He was surprised that he'd managed to keep hold of the damn thing. She shook her head, cleared her throat loudly and pulled herself up from the floor.
He backed up a few steps and watched her curiously.
"I'm sorry, really. If I'd known someone else was up I would have stayed in my room. I certainly didn't mean to cause you to fall. Are you okay?" She asked, clutching the robe tight at her throat. Her voice shook.
"Fine," he muttered, watching her and feeling his face flush because he didn't know what the fuck to say to her at the moment. She was probably embarrassed that she'd been caught freaking out there in the hall and causing grown ass men to fall on their damn faces. "You that fucked up over being underground?" He asked curiously.
Color rose in her cheeks then and she looked away, studying her fluffy sock clad feet. The site of them actually caused a bubble of laughter to escape him.
"Where'd you get those goofy socks?" He asked, his voice only slightly slurred.
Her brows pulled together in a frown and she glanced at the bottle in his hands before looking at her socks. "They aren't goofy. They're warm."
He studied the pink and purple stripes on the socks and then shrugged before taking another long pull from the bottle. "You didn't answer my question," he said, looking back up at her.
She sighed heavily and shrugged before glancing down the hall. "I haven't had an actual panic attack in a while. It's embarrassing."
Now it was his turn to shrug. Her eyes came up, meeting his for a moment before flitting away again. The two of them hadn't talked very much since him and Merle had ran into the group but he'd watched her. He knew that she was a punching bag for that asshole husband of hers. Hell, there were still shadows of bruises on her face. She still seemed to be struggling with taking in enough air and, although he had no idea why, he wanted to help her. "You sure you don't wanna drink? Might take the edge off."
She offered him a lopsided smile and shook her head as she leaned back into the wall. "It'll pass. It always does."
He chewed the inside of his lip for a few seconds. For some strange reason he found himself really wanting to talk to her. He didn't know what the hell the two of them would talk about, really, since they never really had much to say to one another, but out of all of them, she was the one that seemed to look at him like he was a real person.
"Thank you, Daryl, really, but I'm sure you're tired. You don't have to stand out here," she said softly.
The flush returned to his face. For God's sake he didn't want this woman to think that he was out here just to stalk her. He gave her a stiff nod and then turned to head back to his room when someone else turned the corner.
Daryl stiffened and saw Carol do the same as Shane stopped in his tracks, regarding them with a strange look on his face. His eyes were bloodshot and his mouth was twisted into an ugly sneer that he hurriedly hid with a smile. Daryl frowned as he watched the man. Shane never had given him the warm and fuzzies by any means but at the moment, the strange gleam in the man's eyes was almost alarming. If Daryl could see it then Carol had to have noticed herself. Then again, people didn't have any reason to fear Shane. He was a cop. He was one of the good guys. Hell, it had been Shane that had beaten the shit out of the woman's husband after Ed had slapped the fuck out of her down at the quarry. But the man standing in front of them now really didn't resemble the man Daryl had gotten to know.
"You okay, Carol?" Shane asked, his eyes raking over her even though she was wearing a big shapeless robe that she was once more clutching tightly around the neck.
She smiled and then gave him a curt nod. "Fine, thanks. Just decided to walk around a bit before bed."
Shane gave Daryl a once over that had his hackles rising before looking back at Carol. "Is he bothering you? I can walk you back to your room if-"
"The fuck is that suppose to mean?" Daryl snapped. He'd had about enough of the sideways glances from all these assholes. He didn't bother any fucking body, least of all this woman. Hell, she was the only one that was the least bit kind to him for the most part!
Shane's eyes narrowed on him and he took a step closer. Daryl tightened his hold on the neck of the wine bottle in his hand. The son of a bitch wouldn't have a chance to get him in a choke hold this time. Daryl had every intention of smashing the nearly full bottle right across Shane's smug face.
Before anything like that could happen Carol stepped between them and turned to face Shane. Daryl expected her to take him up on his offer to walk her to her room. Regardless of what Daryl saw in the man's face, Carol trusted him. Probably a hell of a lot more than she trusted Daryl.
"Actually I was just about to take Daryl up on an offer to play a few hands of cards but thanks anyway," she said, glancing back and giving Daryl a wide eyed meaningful look. Daryl scowled but gave her a small nod to let her know that he knew what she was playing at. She'd seen the same thing Daryl had. The slightly unhinged look about him.
With that she stepped around Shane and then headed in the direction Daryl had been walking from when he had tripped over her in the first place. Daryl sidled up next to her and glanced down just as she glanced over her shoulder. She turned back with a deep frown pulling her brows together. Daryl spared a glance and saw that Shane seemed to be following them slowly. He had half a mind to turn and ask him what his goddamn problem was but, to his surprise, Carol grabbed his wrist and pulled him along.
She nearly passed the door to his room in her haste to get away from Shane, her grip on him slipping when he stopped at his door but she kept going. She turned around, looking slightly embarrassed but her eyes scanned the hall and sure enough Shane was leaning against the wall a few doors down, watching them with narrowed eyes. Again Daryl was about to say something.
"Please," she whispered peering up at him with wide eyes.
She opened the door to his room and she hurried inside. He hesitated, still wanting to know what in the hell had gotten into Shane Walsh but she was shutting the door hurriedly. When she turned she looked apologetic. "As soon as he leaves I'll go back to my room."
Daryl nodded, suddenly wishing that he'd just stayed in here to begin with but then decided that it had been a good thing that he'd been out there. There really did seem to be something up with Shane and if he'd been the one to trip over the panicked woman then something could have happened. Still, having her standing in his room, clutching the robe and looking so tense had him searching his brain for something to say.
Instead of speaking at all they both stood there awkwardly, looking everywhere but at each other. He was still slightly giddy from all the alcohol he had consumed and really did want to say something just to break the weird silence but nothing came to mind at all. Finally he looked at her at the exact time she looked up, their eyes meeting briefly and then, to his own horror and for no reason that he could rightly think of, he laughed.
She looked startled for a second but then, as he shook his head she smiled uncertainly. Her fingers loosened up on the material of the robe and she glanced at the door again before turning and surveying his room. His dirty clothes were strewn on the floor and there was an empty wine bottle turned over on it's side on a small table by the bathroom door.
"You wanna sit down or somethin'? Wait out your admirer?" He asked once the laughter died away.
She glanced around the room and it was only then that he realized that the only place to sit was the fucking bed. She hesitated a second but then finally went to the bed and perched on the edge of the mattress. He wasn't about to join her on the bed so he sat down on the floor, his back to the door.
"What do you think that was about?" She asked after a few more strained seconds of silence.
Daryl shook his head and then something occurred to him that had him looking up sharply. "Shit, you and him ain't sneakin' around are you? Maybe he thinks-" His voice trailed off when he got a good look at her expression. She looked completely scandalized.
"Of course not!" She said in a voice he'd never heard her use before. She was always so quiet and so meek that her total outrage had her voice carrying and this only caused him to start laughing all over again. "That isn't even funny!"
The laughter died away and he let the back of his head hit the door as he watched her with heavy lidded eyes. He took another drink and then raised his brows, holding the bottle up questioningly. "You need to loosen up, Carol. Get that stick outta your ass."
Her mouth dropped open and she crossed her arms across her chest. "Excuse me?"
He grinned, shaking the bottle.
"Oh good grief," she muttered, moving until she was sitting on the floor herself, her back against the side of the bed. They were still facing each other and she reached for the bottle. "You're a ridiculous drunk." She took the bottle, their fingers brushing and he felt an odd little thrill thread down his spine. She turned up the bottle, taking a small sip and then tried to hand it back.
He snorted. "That was about the pussiest drink I've ever seen."
Her mouth dropped open again and she leaned back, bottle in hand. She pursed her lips as she regarded him disapprovingly. That was when he noticed how the light caught her eyes, causing the blue to stand out against her skin that was still a little paler than usual after the panic attack. He felt the smile die when she put the bottle back to her lips and she took two very long pulls before coming up for air. He noticed that there was wine glistening on her bottom lip and he had an almost overwhelming urge to crawl the few feet and lick it clean.
The thought had him jerking up straighter. She ran her tongue along her lip and then held up the bottle. "That better?"
He crossed his feet at the ankles and shook his head as his eyes slid down to where her fingers were wrapped around the bottle.
Fuck. He was in trouble. All kinds of little things about her started coming into focus then. The smattering of freckles on her face and the way she still clutched the robe, like if she showed the smallest amount of skin then she would be deemed a trollop and... trollop? He found himself cracking up at the word, laughing harder than necessary.
To his surprise she almost looked hurt at this most recent bout of laughter. She frowned slightly and then looked away.
"What?" he asked, unable to stop smiling even though her reaction was a little confusing.
She shook her head. "I think it's probably safe to go on back to my room now," she said in a subdued voice.
She stood up in one fluid motion, much more gracefully than Daryl, who needed to lean his back against the door and then push himself up with his feet. She made a grab for the knob but without thinking his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. She flinched and he dropped his hand quickly, cursing himself silently.
"What'd I do?" he asked with a frown, confused at her abrupt change of attitude and annoyed that his brain was being too sluggish to figure it out quickly so he could mend the situation.
She didn't look up at him for a few long moment but when she did she looked guarded. "I know when I'm being mocked, Daryl. I'd rather not sit here for your amusement. Thank you for letting me hide out for a few minutes."
He scowled. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"
"I didn't come in here to be made fun of."
"Now hold the hell on," he grumbled, moving in front of the doorknob. "I wasn't laughin' at you, you sensitive ass."
She shook her head but she couldn't get away because he was blocking the door. "Let me out."
"Tell me why you're pissed and I will."
She scowled. "I'm not mad. I just thought..."
He raised a brow. "Thought?"
"What were you laughing about?" She asked.
He frowned and then screwed his face up in thought. "I don't know. Somethin' about a trollop."
She stared at him, her expression blank.
He remembered then what he'd been thinking before he had cracked up like a dumb ass. He gestured to her hand that still gripped the robe. "Trollop. I was just thinkin' that you musta thought if you showed a little skin then somebody would think you were a trollop and if you think about it that's one funny fuckin' word." He shook his head, tried to keep a straight face but then he chuckled again. "Trollop," he snorted loudly.
She watched him for a few seconds but then she had to bite her lip to repress a smile. The site of her teeth sinking into the softness of her bottom lip brought him up short again.
"Truce?" He asked, his voice slightly rougher than usual as his pulse started picking up speed.
She shook her head. "You are about the silliest drunk I've ever seen in my life. Its odd. I thought maybe you'd be the type to get a temper with alcohol." She grabbed the bottle and returned to her spot on the floor next to the bed.
He didn't return to his own spot. Instead he sat down next to her on the floor and waited for her to take another drink before he took the bottle back and followed suit. He leaned back and sighed, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye and caught her doing the same. She looked away quickly and a blush rose from her throat all the way up to her cheeks. He smiled stupidly. "The fuck you blushin' like that for?"
The color deepened but she turned her head to look at him full on. He realized then that when he had sat down he had sat close enough for their arms to touch and this caused the smile to die on his lips and he moved over a little. "I'm not." She drank wine and ignored him for a few minutes.
"So..." he began but he had no idea how to spark up a conversation with her. This was fucking ridiculous. He should have let her leave earlier.
She looked at him then and surprised him with a very girlish giggle. She covered her mouth quickly and shoved the bottle into his hands. "That's enough for me. I haven't drank in years."
He scoffed and took the bottle, surprised that she had drank a very good portion of it. "Damn woman," he muttered, killing the rest.
"This is the first time I've been alone with a man other than Ed in more years than I can remember," she mused, idly picking at a loose thread on her robe.
He grunted in response and opened another bottle.
"Sometimes he'd have friends over to play cards or watch football but I usually avoided them all."
"Don't blame you, there. His friends anything like he was?"
She shrugged lightly. "Bullies. Every one of them."
He took a drink and passed the bottle over. "Bunch of shrimp dick bitch boys."
He jumped in surprise when she laughed loudly. Her eyes were overly bright and she seemed to be a lot more comfortable. "What?"
He shrugged. "He musta been lackin' somewhere or he wouldn't have treated you the way he did. He was overcompensating. I had him pegged the minute I met him."
She took the bottle from him and shifted so she was facing him, tucking her legs under her. She ran the tip of her finger along the mouth of the bottle before turning it up. Again, when she lowered the bottle there was wine left on her lip and her tongue quickly snaked out, wiping it away. She reached out, quickly taking his hand in hers and holding it up, examining it closely. He didn't pull away, didn't even think about it at all, and then she took her finger and raised his middle finger, eying it speculatively and then she nodded and met his eyes. She grinned and motioned towards the finger.
He frowned, eyed his own middle finger and then looked back over at her, raising a brow. She held up her thumb and index finger, separated about the same length as the finger of his that she still had raised. She laughed again.
"What?" he asked, perplexed.
She grinned and he focused on the gap between her thumb and forefinger and then he cracked up, shaking his head. She had to have been fucking with him but damn if it wasn't funny. "It's true," she said, swiping her eyes that were wet from laughter.
He shook his head. "That's goddamned awful." She was pretty bold, insinuating that her late husbands junk was the size of a finger. "We talkin' length or girth? The poor bastard."
She grinned and drank some more wine. When she pulled the bottle away he grabbed it, holding it out of reach and giving her a look.
"You're done, woman. Didn't know how much of a lightweight you were. You're drunker than I am."
"I'm perfectly capable of knowing when I have and haven't had enough," she said as she made a grab for the bottle. He held it out of reach and she nearly fell right onto his lap but caught herself at the last moment.
He was about to say something but his voice died in his throat when he looked at her. Their eyes met, her face just a few inches from his own, her hand braced on his thigh. Her gaze was kind of feverish, or was that just wishful thinking on his part? But it wasn't just his imagination. There was something new there. A look about her that he hadn't seen before and it caused another slow thrill to move through him. Her hand moved slightly, stopping a few inches above his knee but the movement had been deliberate.
He sat the bottle down on the floor and let his gaze drift from her eyes to her mouth and then lower, sliding down the elegant column of her throat and then lower, where the robe had slipped just slightly. He swallowed hard and then picked the bottle back up, taking another drink. She was pulling it away again before he was finished, causing a good portion to spill down his chin.
Before he could wipe his face off he felt her hand grip his jaw gently. Her thumb traced his bottom lip and then she brought it to her mouth. For some reason the site of her licking wine off her thumb was the most erotic thing he thought he had ever seen. His wine addled brain was telling him that it would be a good idea to make a move on her since she was still nearly leaning over him, still had her hand on his leg and her face was still just a few inches from his own.
He realized in that moment that this woman had been gravely underestimated.
"You don't look at me like the others do," she said in a voice that sounded breathless, her eyes steadily locked with his own.
"What?" He asked. The same could be said of her. She wasn't prone to look at him with the mistrust that the others did. Even at the quarry, and considering her past, she was the only one that had any real reason to fear him.
She smiled, shifting slightly. "The others. They think I'm made of glass or something. I know you've seen them, the way they look at me. Why don't you?" She sounded curious.
Goddamn it, couldn't she take off that stupid robe for fucks sake? "Cause if that was the truth then you'd have been broke a long time ago. You're made of tougher stuff than they are."
Her eyes widened slightly and she seemed to maul over his words. All he could do was focus on her hand on his leg and will it to move up with his mind, even though now she didn't seem to even remember it was there. His intentions hadn't been to bring her in here for any specific reason but now that she was here all he could think about was-
"Is your air working? I'm burning up," she breathed, pulling away.
He cursed himself for not making a move when she was right there in his face. "You look like you're wearin' three layers of clothes. Course you're burnin' up," he grumbled.
She pulled herself up from the floor then, fanning her face. She looked down at him and was suddenly beaming. "You're the first person that's ever said anything like that to me before."
He frowned. "That you wear too many clothes?"
She laughed and he felt his eyes widen as she worked the knot on the robe loose. "Of course not. I meant, you insinuating that I'm tougher than people think I am."
He shrugged, following the deft movements of her fingers. "You are tougher than people think you are." He said it because he meant it. He really did, but he also said it because it seemed like the words boosted her confidence and she was finally unwrapping some of those layers of terry cloth she'd been huddling in since he'd found her in the hall. He kind of felt like an ass but fuck it. The realization that he wanted this woman was surprising and he knew that he'd never find himself in a situation with her where all his inhibitions were lowered. It was now or never.
She shrugged out of the robe and tossed it onto the bed. That left her in a pair of pale cotton pajamas that were just as shapeless as the robe had been. He felt awkward just sitting there while she stood over him so he stood up. As soon as he was standing someone knocked on the door. They both jumped in surprised and for some reason he felt like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, even though his hand hadn't gotten close to the cookie jar yet.
Pulling the door open he was met with a bleary looking Shane. Daryl's teeth slammed together as the man's eyes traveled past him, searching, most likely, for Carol. "What the hell do you want?" Daryl asked, not bothering with niceties.
Shane focused back on him. "Just checking to see if everything was okay in here."
Daryl glanced over his shoulder at a wide eyed Carol before looking back at the man. "So far so good. Maybe you ought to just go sleep it off, Walsh." He didn't wait for the other man to respond. He slammed the door in his face and then turned the lock. Hoping that locking the door hadn't looked too obvious he turned, shaking his head.
"He's been off here lately," Carol said, almost worriedly.
Daryl raised a brow. "You wanna go check on him? I'm sure he ain't gone far."
She frowned. "Of course not. I haven't laughed this much in a long time. You actually know how to show a woman a good time." She grinned. "I doubt he has anything on you."
He had no idea what to say to that so he didn't say anything at all.
"You're a lot easier to talk to than I ever thought you would be."
He shrugged, leaning against the door.
"And when you aren't scowling and filthy you're a very attractive man," she said, that easy grin still in place.
Any other time he would have puffed up and stomped around, throwing a fit because he would assume she was mocking him, just like she had thought he had been doing earlier. But he heard the sincerity in her words and took note of that bright look in her eyes. It was new and it was something he wouldn't have minded seeing a lot of. "What, you think just cause you caught me drunk that you could sweet talk me?"
She shook her head and looked to be struggling to keep the smile in place now. "Don't worry, Daryl. You were being nice and getting me away from unstable Shane. I don't think for a moment that I was brought in here to be seduced, or to do any seducing."
"That's a good thing cause I don't know the first thing about seducin' a woman. And since, up till a few minutes ago you was clingin' to that robe like your life depended on it, I didn't expect you to be doin' any either."
She grinned. "Definitely not."
He grinned back, emboldened by the wine. "Even though you think I'm good lookin'."
The flush on her face deepened. "I've been drinking. I'm aloud to say stuff like that and you not hold it against me."
He could play this game with her. He nodded slowly. "Yeah, you could probably do a whole lot more than talk and I wouldn't hold it against you." He felt stupid for even saying it but her head came up sharply and her eyes ran over him.
If they were any other two people they would probably be naked already but the both of them had so many fucking hang ups that he was starting to think they would need a few months and an entire liquor store before either of them would actually muster up the nerve to do something more than dance around the issue. He wasn't sure if her head was in the same place his was and he didn't want to make a total ass of himself if she didn't want the same thing he wanted at the moment.
She took a deep breath and then a few steps towards him, stopping about six inches away. There was a measure of fear in her eyes when he met them and he forced himself to stay perfectly still, his back pressed against the door. "Can I?" She whispered.
His heart did a strange kick and then started beating a bruise against his ribcage. He watched her without saying a word but she took his stunned silence for consent because her eyes once again ran over him and he almost wanted to laugh because he'd never considered himself much to look at before. Years of abuse and then skulking in Merle Dixon's shadow, accustomed to the crueler things in life hadn't prepared him for a moment like this. He kind of enjoyed the attention, not that he would have felt the same way if he hadn't had so much to drink.
She swallowed hard and then, to his surprise, she started working the buttons of his shirt open. Instinct nearly had him grabbing her hands and moving her out of his space but he didn't want to. He didn't want her out of his space. For some reason, there was an odd feeling of trust when it came to this woman. If anyone could understand him, it was her and pushing her away now wouldn't do either of them any good. Her eyes stayed trained on her hands and his stayed trained on her face.
Once she was finally finished he still waited her out and almost wished he hadn't. Her hand came up, fingertips tracing the scar that marred his chest but she didn't ask any questions. He wouldn't have answered them if she had. All of her attention was focused on his exposed skin. He was so interested in her strange reactions that he had completely forgotten to feel self conscious. As a matter of fact he'd never had such a boost to his self esteem in his whole life.
She placed her hands on his chest then and finally raised her eyes to meet his. Her skin was warm against his, her hands soft and trembling slightly. "I haven't had the urge to touch a man in years," she muttered, her hands moving until she was sliding the threadbare shirt away from his shoulders. "I forgot what it felt like to want to..." her voice trailed away and her hands went to his shoulders, smoothing her hands over the muscles there until she was cupping his neck.
He wanted to kiss her; had never wanted to kiss someone so goddamn bad in his whole life, but he kept still and her warm hands moved back down his chest. He took a deep breath and could swear that he could smell her arousal now, feel the sharp electric charge as the atmosphere in the room shifted. She stepped closer and her hands finally reached his belt. As her fingers went to work her lips pressed against the scar on chest and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to shove her onto the fucking bed and strip those goddamn pajamas off of her.
"Are you planning on just standing there all night?" She asked, her quavering voice almost too low to be heard over the pounding of blood behind his ears.
He suddenly didn't feel very drunk anymore. Before she had a chance to change her mind and while she fumbled with his belt his own fingers started working the buttons of her top down quickly. There wasn't the slightest shake to his own hands but the further he went the more discouraged he became at the realization she was wearing a fucking tee shirt under the pajama top. When he pushed the offending garment away, however, his eyes widened slightly. The shirt was white, very small and very warn and beneath it, she wasn't wearing anything else.
He hadn't been expecting this at all. The shirt was so old it was sheer and her breasts were shapely, nipples straining against the material and begging to be touched. Her waist was small and the pajama bottoms clung to the feminine flare of her hips. He hadn't realized before now how long her legs were. "Me and you ought to have a talk about your wardrobe, woman," he whispered, hands going to her hips as he started backing her towards the bed. "Those bulky clothes you're always wearin' is hidin' a goddamn gold mine."
She looked skeptical and he understood why she would. He doubted that Ed had appreciated anything about her and had probably gone out of his way to tear her down. It seemed to have worked rather well, considering the look on her face.
Daryl wasn't any good at articulating things like this. He had no practice at all. Words failed him more often than not so the only thing that he could do to prove to her that he was sincere with his compliment was act. He stopped walking her backwards and then pressed his lips to hers, which was something he had wanted to do since he had walked into the room behind her.
Her hands, that had been working his zipper down, stilled and he could feel her body tense. The kiss wasn't deep or passionate by any means and he wasn't exactly sure if he had ever been very good at the act, but her complete shut down was still surprising. He ended it quickly, pulling back a few inches and met a set of wide eyes that looked rather surprised.
Her hands quickly abandoned his pants and he thought that he had fucked up in a major way, but then she grabbed his face and pulled him forward until his mouth was back on hers and this time, it was much different. Her lips were soft and pliant now, parting with a surprised little sound when he wasted no time in deepening the kiss. The need to taste her wasn't something he could ignore and it didn't take longer than a second for her to return the kiss fiercely.
His back hit the door with a thud and he hadn't even realized that she had been pushing him. She dragged her nails down from his neck to his stomach and he growled loudly into her mouth, the sting sending a jolt straight to his crotch. They were so close now that she had to feel it pressing into her and he wondered idly how much longer he would have to wait before he could finally seek some sort of release. He was aching, unaccustomed to so much stimulation. It occurred to him then that as long as he could keep kissing her then the wait for anything more wasn't so bad. This brought him up short because it wasn't really... Daryl. But then again, this woman kind of brought out a different side of him and he found that he kind of enjoyed it.
She pulled back, her breath coming fast and hard. "That was unexpected," she breathed, eyes brighter than he'd ever seen them.
He wasn't sure where his voice had gone so he just dropped his head, his lips meeting the delicate skin below her ear and causing her to suck in a breath. He almost smiled, since it was obvious that she was wound up just as tightly as he was. It was kind of fun, testing boundaries instead of just getting right down to business. Who would have thought? He sank his teeth into her skin lightly, just enough to cause another one of those surprised sounds to erupt from her mouth. Her arms wound around his neck, fingers tangling into his hair and pulling just slightly and then he felt her lips on his shoulder, then her teeth, testing the waters herself.
He growled something unintelligible, pawing at her pajamas desperately, almost clumsily, his breath coming out in quick rugged pants. She laughed, pulling back and grabbing his hands, stilling them. She slid them down her own legs before he had a chance to tear the goddamn things off of her.
His control was steadily slipping now and he was growing more and more impatient to get her back to the bed. She cried out in surprise when, instead of backing her towards it once more, he lifted her off the ground and moved towards it with purpose, his lips catching hers to cut off the sound before it could carry down the hall or to the room next to his own which he was sure belonged to Dale.
He wasn't steady enough on his feet so they ended up in a tangled heap on the bed after he tripped over his own boot. They were both clumsily trying to get the other out of the remainder of their clothes. She was using both feet to try to push his pants away and, since both his arms were pinned under her back from the fall onto the bed, he was using his teeth to try to work her shirt up. With more strength than he thought she had in her she pushed at his chest, rolling them both until she was straddling his hips and he was dazedly blinking up at the ceiling.
He kicked his pants away and grunted when she dropped down, bracing her hands on his chest, their mouths clashing once more. His hands ran up her sides, finally able to snag the shirt that he had been fighting with, and tore it over her head before rolling back over. He almost felt like a teenager, attempting to go at it for the first time, all clumsy groping for the most part but when the kiss broke again she was grinning up at him like she didn't mind at all. He grinned back at her drunkenly and then forced himself to slow the fuck down. He dropped his head to her chest and the sound of her shocked gasp had his lips closing over the tender flesh, teeth grazing lightly until she was squirming under him, her hands gripping his head to keep it in place.
"Daryl... I need..." her voice trailed off because she didn't have to voice what she needed. He could feel how desperate she was already.
He knew the feeling. He raised his head sharply and in one quick thrust he was buried inside her. Her eyes unfocused and he bit back a vicious curse at the unexpected sensation. He was thankful for the wine for many reasons but especially for the fact that he was a little desensitized. He wasn't exactly some skilled womanizer and it had been a long time since he'd been in this situation. Actually, he'd never been in this situation exactly. This woman wasn't just some easy piece.
After a few tense moments he finally moved, watching her carefully for the first sign that she had decided that this wasn't what she wanted but that didn't happen. Her hips rocked against his, giving him the go ahead to really get going. She met every thrust eagerly, pulling him down so their mouths crashed together again. Yeah, he was definitely glad for the wine or this would have already been over. She felt better than he would have ever imagined. He stopped trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure she made because they did wonders for his ego. Lips trailing back down to her chest his eyes shot up to hers when he felt her body give a hard shudder under his.
Her eyes were huge and glazed and he came up on his arms suddenly when her back arched into him. His name tore out of her mouth and he had to clench his jaw when she tightened around him. Her orgasm was intense, her body almost vibrating inside. He wasn't that surprised though, if she was being serious earlier.
"Beats the hell outta my middle finger, huh?" He growled into her throat and her arms went around his neck as she laughed breathlessly. He wanted to hold on for a while. He wanted to make this last a hell of a lot longer, but the way her body was responding to his shattered all of his control. Her legs wound around him, like she could tell that he was about to lose the inner battle he was having and that was it. With an almost inaudible groan his own orgasm knocked the breath from his lungs as his mouth found hers again.
Her nails bit into his shoulders as he lost himself inside of her for a few long moments. When it was finally over his arms gave out but her arms stayed wound tightly around his neck as he struggled to catch his breath. He moved just enough so he wasn't inside of her anymore and then dropped his head to her chest. Her heart was still beating hard and fast under his ear as he worked on collecting his thoughts and processing what had just happened.
He didn't know how much time had passed before he pushed himself back up onto his arms. Now that the moment was over he felt a little awkward lying on her like that. He glanced over his shoulder, spotted his pants at the foot of the bed, and snagged them before rolling off of her. He jerked them on hurriedly, ignoring the sounds of rustling from the other side of the bed. Once he was finally semi decent he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, looking up in time to see her fastening the buttons of her pajama top. The tee shirt was missing, and she hadn't managed to put the bottoms back on and he felt the sudden urge to pull her back into bed. Of course, he ignored the urge and watched her instead.
"I better get back. I'm sharing a suite with Rick and Lori and if they think to check on the kids and see that I'm not there they'll probably worry," she said in a rush as she jerked her pants on. "I was suppose to be sleeping on the couch."
He stood up and nodded even though she wasn't looking. He was starting to think that this whole thing had been a horrible mistake. She looked ready to flee the room at a sprint.
"Thanks for... I mean... I appreciate you inviting me in tonight," she said, her face blazing as if they hadn't just spent a half hour going at it.
He nodded again, rubbing the back of his neck and looking towards the door. "No problem."
"I'll see you in the morning," she said, pulling the door open and offering him a small smile.
He chuckled, shaking his head slightly and gripped the edge of the door, ready to close it as soon as she turned down the hall. "Have a good night, Carol."
She turned without another word and he pushed the door shut. He was about to turn and get back into bed, suddenly feeling tired, when the door opened up. Carol stormed in, gripped the back of his neck and was pulling his face to hers.
He grunted at the impact and he stumbled forward a few feet before he caught himself on the door frame but then his arms went around her and he kissed her back eagerly. The near fall had moved her partially out into the hall but he didn't give a damn at the moment. Her lips were soft and eager and her body fit perfectly against his own and she was warm and...
She pulled away just as quickly as she had stormed back and then grinned at him before she turned and took off down the hall in a hurry, glancing back once, still smiling happily.
He snorted, and shook his head. "Dale, you tell a fuckin' soul what you just saw and I'm gonna feed you to the walkers," he said, turning towards the man that he'd noticed poking his head out right as Carol had finally pulled away.
Dale eyed him, barely able to hide a smile and then shrugged. "I didn't see anything."
Daryl closed his door, hitting the light as he walked towards the bed. It had been a hell of a day and he was looking forward to a few hours of sleep. He wasn't a stupid man. He didn't harbor any fantasies where he was suddenly Carol's guy. He wasn't sure if either one of them would ever be in a state of mind where that was an option. It just wasn't them and the world was different now. But he was going to look out for her a little harder. She needed someone to do that. She needed someone to be there. She needed to know that there was someone in this group that cared about her.
Hell, come to think of it. So did he.