A/N Carol and Daryl are my OTP without a doubt. They are perfect together. However I have a hard time believing she would be able to trust a man so quickly after Ed's death. I had a close friend who suffered from abuse related PTSD and she had serious issues in her relationships with men as a result. So this is my take on the start of Caryl. I have not seen any of Season 3 nor read the novels yet so forgive my imagination where it doesn't quite match up.
Daryl's lips were on hers before she could even blink. Hard, insistent. His hands gripped her, one at the back of her neck, the other at the base of her spine, just above that ass of hers. He pulled her closer, his body flush against hers. He was only a head taller than she, her body almost perfectly melding to his. He gripped her tighter, his kiss deepening at the startled sound she made. How long had he thought about this moment? How long had he waited to do this? Too fuckin' long.
Panic flooded Carol's mind, as the metallic taste of blood hit her tongue. Self preservation responses that had been hardwired into her brain after 20 years of marriage to Ed kicked into place. Her body stiffened, her kiss was automatic, cold and detached.
As quickly as he had initiated the kiss, Daryl pulled back, his eyes focusing on hers. He felt a punch in his gut as he saw the panic stricken look that flashed over her face, to be replaced by a wooden smile. Dropping his hands from her, he stepped away, first bringing his hands up to run through his hair, then flinging them down to his side, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
Daryl was so fuckin' stupid. He knew what her old man was capable of. Well he hadn't known know but he fuckin well coulda guessed. He had seen the same looks Ed had given Carol as Daddy Dixon had given Daryl's momma.
He watched her wrap her arms around herself clearly ashamed of herself. He reached one hand out. "Look, Carol-" she flinched, subtly but still enough for him to notice. "Fuck." One hand went to tug on his hair, the other resting on his hip. "'M sorry," he started, his eyes staring beseechingly into hers. For a split second he saw at least a dozen emotions skid across her face before she settled on humiliation. And tears shining in her eyes, she turned and bolted.
"Fuckin' hell."