"I'd try three or four times a day for the next three days."

"You can't be fuckin' serious."

"Language, Dixon," the school nurse scoffed, "And yes, I'm entirely serious. Assuming you do want to be able to have children some day."

"Can't fuckin' believe this," he muttered, and with his good hand, he pressed his fingertips gently to the edge of his cheekbone and winced at the dull throb of pain. The black eye would be showing by the time he left for home, that much he knew.

"Language!"

"Alright, alright, just explain it to me one more time," Daryl mumbled.

"You suffered a very serious blow to the testicles."

"Yeah I remember that part."

"And it resulted in significant inflammation. Now, in order to prevent any blockage in the Vas Deferens, which could lead to infection, you'll need to…purge your testes of semen several times a day until the swelling goes down."

"And what happens if I don't?"

"In the long term? It could do permanent damage. You'd eventually need surgery, a few days in the hospital. Potentially wouldn't be able to have children. In the short term, the longer you go without coping with the problem, the more painful it will get. You'll know good and well when a purge is…necessary, so to speak."

"Great, just fuckin' great." Of course, it was his left hand that was fucked. The one he used to write and to load his bow and to jerk…

"Dixon!"

"Jesus woman, alright! Just write me a note so I can get back to class."

She filled out a hall pass and handed it to the boy. "Here you go. Now take care of yourself, and let me know if the pain gets any worse. And Dixon, prostate stimulation would probably work best."

Daryl didn't bother to ask what the hell that was before he was out the door with a huff.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Fucking Shane Walsh. This was all his goddamn fault.

The stupid prick just couldn't leave well enough alone.

"Hey Dixon, how's it you keep that piece of shit truck of yours running?"

"Hey Dixon, you own any shirts with sleeves on 'em?"

"That's a nice limp, you got going, man. You get fucked up the ass last night, or was it just another run in with your Daddy?"

Daryl hardly remembered making the decision to strike, but he knew good and well that that was the line that did. Shane had pushed him too goddamn far. And the fucker had fought dirty to top it all off. Crushing his left hand with the heel of his boot, kicking him in the nuts like a fucking pussy.

At that point, he hadn't even felt the blows to his middle, though he was pretty sure now that a few of his ribs were broken. He'd managed to hide that little fact from the nurse, desperate to just get the fuck out of there to tend to his broken ego. At least Daryl could be content that he'd gotten in a few serious licks of his own. Shane would be feeling it for days, and the black eye and cut across his cheek wouldn't fade for weeks.

That fucker always provoked him. Ever since they were kids, just into middle school, Shane would prod and jab until Daryl snapped. He seemed to take some kind of sick pleasure in it, pushing Daryl until he couldn't help but get physical.

Daryl was musing over whether he might get away with cutting the brake lines in Shane's Chevy when he spotted the Devil himself leaning up against Daryl's beloved truck. Waiting for him.

"The fuck, Shane, you wanna go again?" Daryl growled, already throwing his backpack into the bed of the truck and baring down to draw.

"Woah, woah, woah, Dixon just calm down alright? I ain't here for that," Shane immediately said, seeming relatively sincere.

"Then get your bitch ass hands off my truck, and fuck off to wherever you came from," Daryl ground out, stepping closer and squaring off his shoulders.

"Look, I will, in a second, but…I just wanted to apologize, alright?"

Daryl backed up an inch, startled. "Why?"

"'Cuz I fucked up, man, I never shoulda…never shoulda started that shit. Shouldn't have been always starting that shit with you, and especially not today."

"Yeah, and why's today so damn special?"

Shane's eyebrows furrowed together. "We were friends when we were kids. You forgettin' I used to live around the block from you? I know what day it is, man."

Daryl's eyes darted away from him, eyes burning. Not a lot of people remembered the day his house burned down, or who had burnt up with it, but it figured that the asshole Daryl hated most would want to bring it up after beating the shit out of him. "Don't want your fuckin' pity. Think I preferred ya when you hated me, Walsh."

Shane looked taken aback, "Man, I never hated you. Never have, it's just…I'm an asshole. Know I am. Been workin' through some shit, and…yeah, takin' it out on you, I guess. But you don't deserve that shit. I mean, when we were goin' at in the yard, I had this moment where I looked at ya, and I like, woke up, ya know? Think it was the first fuckin' time I've ever thought about what I was doin' as I was doin' it. I don't wanna be this guy anymore."

"Well glad I could help ya with that fuckin' epiphany," Daryl grumbled, "Now get off my truck and leave me be."

Shane began to move away from the door, then hesitated. "What if I brought over some beer tonight?"

Now that wasn't what Daryl had expected. "Huh?"

"Some beer. We can watch the game or some shit. Least I can do."

"If I say yes, will you get off my fuckin' truck?"

Shane appeared to think for a moment, before he nodded.

"Then fuckin' fine! Now piss off already," Daryl snarled. Shane flashed him a brilliant smile before jogging back to the other end of the lot where his car was parked.

"I'll be there 'round seven!" Shane called behind him.

Daryl slid into his car and stared at the wheel for a beat. What the fuck did I just agree to?

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Things were tense from the moment Shane walked through his front door. His Dad was off on some bender, and Merle was in jail again, but Daryl thanked Christ for that because if either of them had come home to see Shane in the house, they might have beaten the both of them just for kicks. Daryl tried to tell himself that the anxiety was just about having Shane around, that he didn't trust the guy. But if he was being honest with himself, the problem stemmed a little further south.

His balls were aching, cock half-hard for no fuckin' reason at all. And even after he downed his first beer, the pain stuck around, dull and steady but never abating.

Three beers more and Daryl was buzzed plenty, but the pain was only getting worse. He squirmed back and forth on the couch, pretending to be absorbed with whatever game Shane had flicked on to pass the time. They'd hardly spoken at all, aside from Shane's intermittent comments about this player or that. Daryl pawed at his crotch as subtly as possible, trying to find a more comfortable position.

"Hey man, you okay?" Shane suddenly asked.

Daryl's ears lit up like a Christmas tree. "M'fine."

"Uh-huh," Shane replied after a beat, "Don't look it though. You hurting?"

"S'nothin' Shane."

"Don't look like nothin'. What did the nurse tell you?"

"Said my hand would be healed up in a couple weeks. Sprained. Black eye would be gone sooner than that. Nothin' I ain't heard before."

Shane nodded, "And what about the other thing?"

"What about it?" Daryl growled.

Shane looked down to his lap, managing to look believably contrite, though Daryl remained skeptical. "Kicked you pretty hard. Know I did. Just…wanted to make sure you're alright. You're sure the nurse didn't say anything about it?"

Daryl let out a long, disgruntled sigh. "She said if I wanted to have kids, I've gotta…beat it five times a day for the next three days, or some shit. She was probably fuckin' with me anyways."

Shane's eyes went wide. "Man, I don't think she woulda lied about that. You've just been ignoring it?"

"I'm fine," Daryl insisted.

"No, you ain't, man. You haven't done it once since this morning?"

Daryl glared hard at him, cheeks red with embarrassment. "No, I haven't, Shane. I was at school and then the asshole who caused this bullshit problem insisted on invitin' himself over for the evening."

Shane eyed him appraisingly. "Well, go take care of it, man. The game can wait."

With eyebrows raised and mouth hanging open, Daryl managed to look properly horrified by the suggestion.

"I'm serious," Shane continued, "Can't have your nuts fallin' off 'cuz you were too busy trying to be a good host."

Daryl snorted at that, then got up off the couch with a sigh and headed towards the back of the house.

"You want some help?" Shane called as Daryl went to leave the room, and the archer frowned at how sincere the offer came out sounding. No tease or mockery in sight.

"Fuck off," was all Daryl could manage to mutter in response, before locking himself in the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, and Shane was pacing across the living room, downing his fifth beer and trying not to think too hard about what was happening behind closed doors. Fifteen and Shane just figured, fuck it. He stormed the few yards to the bathroom door and rapped on it hard.

A second later, Daryl opened the door a crack, still in the process of tucking himself back into his jeans. Only problem was, he was still plenty hard, and noticeably so.

"What do you want?" Daryl sighed, feeling uncomfortable and frustrated and mostly just tired.

"Seriously, nothin'?" Shane asked incredulously.

Daryl huffed out a groan through his teeth. "Well ya fuckin' crushed the hand I usually use to do it. Can't get the grip right, and my abs hurt too bad to…whatever. Figure I wouldn't be too great a dad anyways." Daryl went to head back towards the living room, but Shane pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him.

"Wha-?"

Shane pressed hard at both of Daryl's shoulders, forcing him back into the bathroom and kicking the door shut behind him.

Daryl's defenses immediately went up, and he shoved Shane hard, ignoring the wicked sting from his middle at the sudden movement. "What the fuck, Shane?" he hissed.

Shane raised his hands in mock surrender. "Look man, you can't just ignore the shit the nurse said. You'll end up in the fucking hospital."

"Yeah well, if you wanna pay for a hooker, then I'm all in," Daryl spat.

Shane smirked at him, "Got somethin' better than a hooker." And with that, he took a step closer to the skittish archer and reached for his belt.

"The fuck?" Daryl breathed, moving as far back against the sink as the small space would allow and freezing under Shane's heated gaze.

"I'm not fucking around with you, Daryl, not about this," Shane promised him.

And because it was the first time in years he'd heard Shane use his real name, Daryl briefly allowed himself to believe him. "You're…not?"

Shane gave him a heartbreakingly tender smile. "No, man. I'd never do that. I just want to do this for you."

Daryl was biting at his lip, and trying not to think about the heated pain radiating from his groin. He tried even harder not to acknowledge how fucking hard he'd gotten since Shane began to advance on him. "Y'ain't gonna tell no one?"

"Nah, man. 'Course not. But even if I did, I'd end up looking a hell of a lot worse than you would, dontcha think?"

Daryl looked up at him from underneath his bangs, looking the smallest bit hopeful.

"Hell, if anyone found out, you could just tell 'em I'm your bitch. Wouldn't be too far a stretch, right?"

"S'ppose not," Daryl mumbled. He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt Shane's deft fingers flick open his belt and lower his fly. Christ, he hadn't even realized Shane was reaching for that again.

Then, Daryl gasped aloud when Shane shoved down his jeans and boxers a good six inches and took his cock in hand for the first time. Shane squeezed his hard-on affectionately, rubbing a thumb over the head and watching Daryl's eyes slam shut at the sensation.

"Fuck, you are needing this," Shane murmured. He began to move his fist in a familiar up and down movement, twisting over the head with each stroke until Daryl was gripping the edge of the sink with white knuckles and panting into their shared air.

Shane's eyes were utterly fixated on him, watching the all-over flush seep out across Daryl's body. Watching his chest heave up and down with the unfamiliarity of the stimulation. Watching him bite so hard at his lower lip that Shane was sure it would bleed.

He's trying to stay quiet, Shane realized, and the thought only made him throb harder in the confines of his jeans. A little whimper escaped Daryl's throat. Trying and failing. Fuck me.

"Look at me, Daryl," Shane commanded, and the archer dutifully opened his eyes, pupils wide with arousal. "You ain't done this before, have you?"

Daryl tried to look away from him, tried to ignore the question entirely. But then Shane twisted his palm over the top of Daryl's cock rapidly, and Daryl's body bowed forward off the sink as Daryl moaned breathily, "Fuck, oh fuck."

"C'mon, Daryl. You can tell me. You ever got a hand job before?" Shane's hand was speeding up its assault, and Daryl had no choice but to answer.

"N-no," he choked out as he fought not to buck into the tight grip, and Shane grinned widely.

"Fuck, that's hot. Savin' yourself for me, Daryl? It's better than touchin' yourself, huh. Bet my hand feels so fuckin' good stroking you."

Daryl could only nod, hand abandoning the sink to grip Shane's shirt. At that sign of utter submission and lust, Shane couldn't curtail his own needs any longer. Never missing a beat, Shane used his free hand to unsheathe his aching member. He began to stroke himself and Daryl at the same rapid rate.

Lucky for him, Daryl didn't even seem to notice Shane's newfound arousal. All he could concentrate on was the tight fist wrapped around his cock, providing delicious friction that he had to fight not to rut into like a whore. Shane took a chance and pressed his forehead to Daryl's, wanting to watch every emotion that passed over the boy's face as he neared his peak. Pre-cum oozed out of the slit of Daryl's cock with every movement of Shane's hand.

"Fuck, Daryl," Shane moaned, "You're fuckin' dripping for me. I'm gonna make you come, huh? Gonna make you come all over yourself."

Daryl's mouth hung open as he panted his reluctant agreement, "Yeah…fuck, I'm…m'close."

"Fuck, yeah I know you are. Gonna come hard, aren't ya?" Shane sped up his hands, stroking them both hard and fast and tight. "C'mon Daryl, give it to me. Wanna see you do it."

With several sharp breaths and a rumbling groan, Daryl erupted between them. Shane memorized all the rigid lines of Daryl's perfect body as he hit the moment of release, relished the whimpering moans the boy couldn't suppress as come shot out of his dick in every direction, coating his shirt and hand and even the floor with evidence of Shane's power over him.

Daryl had pushed his body even further into Shane's as he came, and the debauched sight of Daryl "I'll kick your ass" Dixon covered in his own spunk and panting in Shane's arms was too much for the latter to bear.

"Fuck, Daryl!" Shane cried out, before shooting off between them. The sated archer didn't even flinch when warm, white, wetness streaked across his chest.

They stayed close for a few minutes, as both worked to even out their breathing. Shane was the first to speak.

"Fuck," Shane chuckled, "That was so fucking good. I haven't shot off like that in forever." He watched Daryl's face for a moment. "Hurt less now?"

That made the archer look up at him, seeming confused and relieved, but guarded again, as if he expected Shane to turn on him at any moment. "Yeah, don't hurt at all."

Shane smiled proudly, "That's good, man. That was the idea. Now you got a shirt I can borrow, 'cuz this ones kinda fucked."

Daryl gave him an odd look, then shrugged and led Shane over to his room. "Take your pick," he said, gesturing towards his dresser. Daryl slipped out of his shirt and into a new one while Shane was distracted.

"So where am I sleeping?" Shane asked when he turned back around.

Daryl stared at him incredulously. "Sleeping…?"

"Yeah man, nurse said you've gotta keep this shit up for the next three days, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Well then I'd rather not be shuttlin' my ass back and forth between your place and mine all weekend."

Daryl shifted his weight back and forth nervously. "Shane, ya don't gotta…I don't expect ya to…"

"Hey," Shane cut him off, taking a step forward and resting one hand on Daryl's shoulder. The archer had to fight the urge not to shrug him off. "One thing you oughta know about me after all these years is that I don't ever do something I don't wanna do."

When Daryl found no signs of a rouse in Shane's tone or posture, he let out a sigh. "Fine. Best to stay in my room them. In case…" In case my dad comes back.

Shane didn't seem the least bit bothered by Daryl's vagueness. He flopped down on his back in the center of Daryl's bed, and shot the boy a cheeky grin. "Well, alright man. But where are you gonna sleep?"