Apparently, when I get writer's block, all I can do is write smut about Daryl Dixon. How lucky for you all, right? This is the third installment in what I can only call "The Heat Saga." All stories stand alone and are completely unrelated fluff PWP pieces. I hope you all enjoy!
Daryl had been absent from school all week. As much as I hate to admit it, I had noticed.
It's not like we were dating, because we weren't. A head case like Dixon didn't do the whole girlfriend thing. He could barely function as a human being on his own. His mom died in a fire when he was young, his brother spent most of his time in jail or in juvey, and his dad practically live in The Playpen downtown.
Mom says he lacked affection as a child. Our English teacher, Mr. Freeman, says he needed more of a father figure in his life, a positive role model. Either way, it's a potent cocktail for dysfunction and utter chaos.
My life, by comparison, was considerably less hectic. I was an only child, "spoiled brat" according to Daryl. My parents were still married. My dad was a supervisor at the power plant and we weren't lacking anything financially.
I guess you could say I was acting out, seeking attention, because my dad worked long hours and I barely ever got to see him. Most nights I would sneak out and Daryl and I would go to the quarry or get drunk in the woods. The nights usually ended in heated and passionate sex that neither of us would admit meant anything. There were definite feelings there that we both just seemed to avoid.
He wasn't home. In fact, no one was. His truck was gone. That was a clue. It was starting to get dark out so I went to Fifth Street Bar looking for him. When we'd play hooky, that's where we'd usually go. They didn't ID and we could play pool for hours before retreating to his house for some more rigorous afterschool activities.
I found him at the bar, his head hung over the counter.
"Hey, Dixon." I began. "Where have you been?"
"Ye know, around. What's it to you?"
"I've been worried. I brought your assignments. You know you need to catch up so you can graduate."
"I don't think I'm gonna graduate. Why even bother? My life ain't worth a shit anyway." He turned to face me and I got a good look at his face. It was swollen, his eye completely black and blue. There was a huge gash in his lip that looked like it would need stitches.
"My God, what happened?"
"Same thing that always happens.
"He did this to you?"
He merely looked off into the distance and finished his beer.
Daryl didn't talk about his feelings. He avoided confrontation at all costs when it came to emotions. He tended to run hot headed, but I'd never seen him like this.
"Wanna talk about it?" I asked more out of courtesy than anything. I knew what his answer would be.
"Naw, princess. Wanna git out o' here?"
"Sure." I whispered.
I followed him into the parking lot and followed him in my car back to the trailer park.
When we got there, I watched him intently as he got out of his truck. He had driven kind of recklessly, speeding and swerving his way back home. He slammed the door on the old beater and kicked the fender before placing both palms on the hood of the truck and hanging his head. I cautiously exited my vehicle, walking up behind him slowly and placing my hand on his shoulder. He spun around in an instant, glaring down at me. Seconds later, his lips had found mine and he spun us around so my back was now pinned to the grill of his truck. The kisses were fervent, pleading, and pained. He seemed to be seeking something, searching my mouth for the answer to a question he couldn't even whisper.
I pushed back against his chest, straining for air. "Dixon, your homework. We need to study."
"Fuck studies. I found somethin' more interestin'." He smirked, delving back into my mouth. He cupped my ass cheeks through my jeans, effortlessly lifting me up and dropping me on the hood of his truck, spreading my knees and borrowing his hips into the newly created space. One of his hands lingered on my hip, the other clutched in my hair, pulling my face down to his, digging his nails into my scalp. I gripped his shirt with equal fervor, holding him in fistfuls as closely as I could. This is the closest we ever came to talking, moments like this. It was like our tongues found a new way to express ourselves.
I could tell I was close to soaking through my jeans. The heel of my boot was digging into his back, the other trying to find purchase on the grill of his truck, searching for a foothold. "We should go in." I managed, trying to catch my breath.
He sighed, helping me down and dragging me into the trailer. I couldn't help but notice the mess inside. Broken glass and beer cans littered the floor. There was a broken lamp on the floor and the recliner had been flipped sideways. I don't know what had transpired here, but it wasn't good. "Sorry." He muttered. He seemed embarrassed. "I haven't been home to clean this up."
"It's okay." I lied. He didn't leave me room for much alternate lips resumed their torment on my senses pretty closely to where they had left off. He slammed my body against the door, closing it shut. His hand snaked it's way up my shirt, caressing the bare skin of my stomach until he found the cup of my bra, wrenching it down and tweaking at my nipple. I stifled a moan as he ground his hips into mine, his now prominent erection pushing into my zipper.
His lips found my ear, baring his teeth down on the tender flesh before nibbling down the side of my neck. He worked my shirt up and I pushed forward just enough to unclasp my bra and work it off of my shoulders. Seconds later his mouth found my aching mounds, swirling sensual circles around the hardened peaks of my nipples. His hand worked its way into my jeans, clawing at the fabric of my panties and working his way inside. Finding me completely moist and ready, he smiled against my breasts. I groaned, jutting forward with my hips so his finger prodded at my clit, now over sensitized. He kneaded it quickly before pulling his hand out, causing me to groan in frustration.
He kissed down my stomach, biting at the bottom of my jeans. He knelt down on his knees and used his hands to finally undo my jeans.
I wrapped my fingers in his hair and tugged, pulling his eyes to mine. "Bed?" I offered.
"What's the matter, princess? Too spontaneous for ya?" He was breathing hot over my sex, seconds away from removing my jeans.
I pleaded with him with my eyes. I needed to plant my feet somewhere, needed something to hold me up. I could feel my orgasm building already and I didn't think I could keep myself up if I had to stand.
"Ugh, alright." He muttered, getting to his feet before tossing me over his shoulder and carrying me to his bedroom, which was little more than a mattress on the floor and a few piles of dirty clothes and old whiskey bottles. He bent over and tossed me on the mattress and I giggled as my back hit the bare springy box. He pounced on me, kissing just above my panties before ripping both them and my jeans off. It wasn't long before his tongue delved into the folds of my hot core, exploring tentatively. He wrapped his lips around my clit and hummed, causing me to jump. His glanced up at me and wrapped his arms under my knees and over my thighs so his hands sat firmly on my groin, holding me still.
He liked to play this game, making me come a few times before he fucked me senseless. He said it made me feel tighter if I had already orgasmed at least once.
He spun maddening circles around my clit, lapping and suckling on my sensitive nub. My thighs clamped like a vice on his face and he moaned. I had almost forgotten about his bruises. I eased up, trying to gain composure as the first wave hit, starting at the center of my navel and moving downward, bursting. I slipped a few choice curse words as I came spiraling down, my hands caught in Daryl's hair as I pushed him further.
He pulled back, wiping his mouth and crawling up my naked torso, kissing me as he pulled at his belt. I heard it flop open, heard the tell tale rip of his zipper, and the smack as his pants landed somewhere against a wall. "Ya ready, girl?" He asked me, watching my face.
I bit my lip and nodded, bracing myself as he slid home. It stung at first as I got used to his size again. I watched his face as he stared at the wall. I tugged at the hem of his shirt, but he grabbed my hand. "Not this time." He said, pushing our lips together as he worked his hips. I could only imagine the bruises he was trying to hide there. After a few hardened thrusts, my leg snaked around his hip as he continued to pump inside of me. "Touch yerself."
I did as I was told, grabbing my left breast, holding it up and kneading my nipple as I reached between us with my right hand, finding my clit and taking it between two fingers. He watched me, glaring down with his pensive blue eyes as he continued his motions. "Aw, fuck." He huffed, baring down and quickening his pace. His balls were slapping my ass as he held my hip with one hand, pulling me up to meet his hips. "Shit, yer so fuckin' tight, girl." He muttered. I held my breath as the second wave hit, still playing with myself, I began to spasm, setting off Daryl's orgasm as well. He collapsed on top of me, muttering a string of curses as we fought to catch our breath.
As soon as he rolled off of me, I stood to gather my things, as usual. "Hey." Daryl began, "Ye don't have to go just yet." He looked past me, almost.
"You want me to stay?" I asked, awkwardly trying to cover myself up. I suddenly felt overexposed in front of him even if there wasn't a part of me left that he hadn't seen, felt, or tasted.
"Ye can... if ye wanna." "Yeah, Dixon. I'd like that."
I thought to myself "Now we're finally getting somewhere."