I've finished all three seasons so there may be small spoilers as well as a lot of poetic licence, just a warning. This contains some Daryl's thoughts and a bit of..um..*cough* touching ;)
p.s. (this is slightly inspired from some theories that Daryl Dixon is a virgin...)
After the newcomers had settled in, Rick had gathered some willing adults to clear out as many of the cell blocks they could. Some were vaguely easy and others were completely overrun. Daryl didn't mind the strenuous work but he didn't appreciate the complaints coming from the strangers. We don't have to help them clear out a living space he thought and many a time he criticized them for being so ungrateful. He was glad when it was done.
By the time were all out of sight it was late afternoon. Rick had reserved various rooms for food storage. There were emergency supply rooms and separate cell block supply rooms. This was so that they didn't have to interact with the other group. Daryl agreed it was better that way. It was peaceful times and he'd finally settled into having a cell to himself. He still didn't like the idea of being caged so he'd removed the cell door using Dale's tools and instead hung a blankets to cover the bars and one to use as a door.
Although he'd made himself quite a comfortable sleeping space, he still preferred other places to sleep. If it was a good day he'd go up onto the roof where he'd pitched his tent; weighing it down with bricks and such. On other days he went out into the secure grounds where Dale's RV stood. It had a comfortable double bed which he often took a nap in. He liked the RV as it was one of the few private places that Glenn and Maggie hadn't adopted as 'bedroom.' He snorted to himself as he set his crossbow down on the table and flopped onto the bed.
His body was sore from all the walker bashing and it was good to take the weight off. After they had settled in the prison the RV had just been left by the gate, curtains closed with a small supply of medicine and food for the event of an invasion. A warm orange glow leaked through the floral curtains, warming Daryl's back. He groaned as the sun made him feel hot. He took of his shirt and lay down on his back, letting the sun wash over him. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of distant laughing. It was far away but he could tell it was Carl and probably Beth giggling at something. He smiled, but the moment was ruined slightly by the faint sound of walkers in the other side of the fence. They were moaning and wailing quietly but it still bugged Daryl.
Even now after it had been perhaps a year and a half he still couldn't get used to the sound of walkers. It annoyed him. He remembered the times before the breakout when he'd tumble into bed at 3am after a long hunt and exhausted he would just be ready to black out when the birds would sing. Oh how he hated the damn birds. Right on queue whenever he needed sleep the most they would chirp their annoying little heads off. He was then faced with the option to either drink himself to slumber or grab a pellet gone and have himself a pigeon pie later on. Whereas now the 'birds' were slightly bigger and they moaned on a constant loop and he didn't fancy his chances in that field half-asleep.
As the RV was positioned right by the gate, he was closer to the walkers than he'd of liked. He could hear a few of them near the fence singing their woeful song. He half-heartedly yelled at them to shut up but the response was just a louder encore of the previous. He mimicked them and laughed at himself for being so childish. He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. Laughing had felt good. He smiled and laughed again and whether it was just the sleepiness or lack of hydration he found himself giggling away. He wondered what the others would think if they could hear him from all the way away from the prison. It's not like they hadn't heard Glenn and Maggie giggling away in the dark somewhere. At least they were getting it though he thought.
Daryl sometimes thought of how he probably wouldn't survive to be an old man and he occasionally felt that his young life was being taken from him and that made him feel low. He should be indulging in adult pleasures to; he thought to himself. My life doesn't revolve around stomping ass and protecting other people, he contemplated it for a moment and then shook the thought from his head. Time spent with his new family had changed his train of thought and his resented himself for resenting them. He loved them all equally, well not all their were the special ones and the I'm not all that bothered ones. He hadn't been that bothered about Lori but was sad that his little ass-kicker would grow up without her real mother, even though she had two doting women to occupy her. Carol and Beth. Daryl sometimes forgot that Beth was seventeen, probably eighteen by now; when he saw her with Judith it was like she was as old as Carol. Carl seemed to take a liking to Beth despite the age difference Daryl saw it happening in the future if they lived that long. Carl was on the middle of his family list, he was important because he was Rick's son and that made him a sort of adopted Uncle to him.
Hershel would be lower. He often backed Daryl's ideas and occasionally gave well chosen words as advice, even when it wasn't sought after. To Daryl, Hershel was an asset. Rick Grimes was right up the ladder, he had proven himself far beyond his need and often referred to Daryl as 'brother'. Rick had a slight inkling of the pride that swelled inside his new lieutenant whenever he used that family association and of course topping them all had to be Carol. Daryl smiled to himself as he pictured her face, as in them all they had been worn by the effects of the apocalypse, but there is always a glint of youth in her eyes. Her eyes bright-eyed like a rabbit. Those eyes once diverted and afraid now shone and blazed with a ferocious and story, yet as wild as they were they would yet soften and adore at the presence of Judith or Daryl. He loved that about her, he had two ass-kickers and she was one of them.
He knew only too well that the others speculated about their relationship. Yes he would never deny that he loved her but it wasn't like Glenn and Maggie. It was a bond that couldn't be fuelled by passion or lust. Those things in his opinion would spoil it. Daryl believed that having sex with Carol would undermine his high views of her. He did often though let his mind meditate on what it might be like. As far as his own sexual experiences go, they were very limited. For a brief period of his adolescent life had actually attended school on a regular basis. The teachers were wary of him having recently recovered from the devastating tornado that was once a teenage Merle Dixon. The other boys avoided him and the girls teased him. At that point his morals were pretty low but having grown up witnessing his father's poor treatment of his mother, he had sworn never to harm a female no matter how much she deserves it. The boys however would get what was owed to them, if and whenever they approached him. One time he had started a fight with two other lads for pushing a girl around by the gym shed.
It had been after school and Daryl had been going to nick some weights to give to Merle as a peace offering on his return from Juvy. He had seen them and ignored them at first until the girl was telling them to stop. He had pretty much got the shit kicked out of him, but they did saunter off afterwards. The girl was Emma Bakers, the school slut and judging by her movements and glassy expression – she was wasted. Daryl had told her to go home and she had dramatically fallen forward so he would catch her. She had splashed booze down his shirt from the bottle she was dangling in one hand. She looked up at the confused scruffy teenager and mumbled "My hero.." And she gurgled more words as she slumped to her knees. Daryl panicked slightly as she rocked slightly, humming to herself. He urged her to get up so he could walk her home but she kept repeating "My hero" and then looked up.
Her eye level rested on his belt and she began fumbling with his buckle. The in-experienced teenager gently tried to prize her fingers away but eagerly anticipated her every move. She was taking to long with his jeans and he unzipped them and let her pull down his pants. She drunkenly grinned up at him as she took him in her mouth. He gasped slightly as the wetness of her mouth enveloped him. She was rocking rhythmically and Daryl found his body wanting to press itself into her. He obliged to his natural needs and she sped up to compete with his new rhythm. Emma, experienced in this field no matter how drunk, worked her usual routine. She had started slow at the base and when his body had begun to react she went for the head. As she tasted the signs that he was nearly ready she began to speed up, making sure her tongue ran over every last part. She cupped his balls in her shaking hands and kissed them, but didn't stray from the part of Daryl that throbbed with the tension of desire. She returned to him with a quick rhythm and with a well practised mouth she swallowed as he came. Daryl had come quietly, but had grasped at her hair gripping it tight and using it to pull her head ever closer to him.
Emma stood up and wobbled for a moment and then clumsily planted a short kiss on his stubbly chin. He numbly watched her stagger away towards the hole in the fence used by eight-graders as a skiving exit. The taste of himself lightly smeared on his lips and warmth coming from hi groin was all that remained as evidence of their encounter.
Daryl focused as he found himself reminiscing on old events. He noticed that his hand was resting over a pulsing bulge underneath his trousers. There was still a faint orangey glow outside and he knew that beside the walkers, he was alone. He closed his eyes as he re-traced that memory in his mind. He massaged himself, but grew dull of the lack of sensitivity brought by the thickness of his clothes. He disrobed his ripped cargoes and returned to rubbing himself. His mind blocked at the muffled laments of the undead and replaced the audio with his own groans of pleasure. He slipped a roughened hand under the hem of his shorts and shivered that coolness of his fingers. He ran his fingertips along his thigh towards his groin, teasing himself to be ready. He could feel himself urging his hand to grasp at his lust. Daryl yet teased himself by running his hand over his sack, he lavished the control he had over himself. All this time being second-in-command and now here he was in control of himself and of the feelings he could create. He held out no longer and took himself in hand. His palm sweaty and with the leaked desire he lubricated his hand, hardened by long days of survival. Daryl let himself get lost in the numb sensations as he shuddered and gasped, his breathing erratic with his ever quickening rhythm. Back arched, other hand grasping at warm sheets, Daryl gave in to his climax. Whimpering became raucous exhalations; sweat began to tingle as it cooled and protruding veins settled from their hardened state while frantic blood pumped slower.
Daryl closed his eyes and lay with himself for a moment. He felt the warmth leave his body as the sun could no longer breach the curtains. A soft scattering of goose-bumps shrouded his body in the afterbirth of his orgasm. He sighed and yet again received light reminder of the monsters outside. Having dressed and undergone a few decent stretches, Daryl exited his temporary abyss. The sky had darkened the were light grey with navy shadows, when the man was a child his mother had told him that God dipped the clouds in dark colours and used them to paint the sky before bed. Daryl snorted again at his childishness.
Hope you enjoyed please feel free to comment! :D