Disclaimer: Not mine, no money is being made from this and no copyright infringement was meant
It had all started with a game of « Never Have I ever », which in these apocalyptic times turned out to be even more baffling than people coming back from the dead.
Glenn and Maggie had been married in their mind and in their group ever since the prison, but coming to Alexandria, they had had the opportunity to have it made official, in case government ever made it back. They had asked Deanna to wait a day before filing them as married in her cabinet of records, and with their family, they had had a night of celebration. It hadn't been a bachelor party nor a bachelorette one, it had been something private, and fun. They barely got anything fun anymore, so the two of them finding a clerk to register their union had seemed like a perfect opportunity for a celebration for them all.
Alcohol had flowed, Glenn, Abe and Eugene having gone for a run for this occasion in particular. They had come back with various disgusting drinks whose only virtues had been the fact that they contained alcohol.
They had played games, they had exchanged stories some of them already knew, and they had celebrated. When Carl had left to make sure his sister was staying asleep, that had been when the party had gone wild and never have I ever had been played.
It had changed everything.
Well, maybe not for them all, but for Daryl, it had changed everything.
The questions at first had been expected, and the usual suspects had drunk, until people had noticed that Carol was doing her fair share of drinking. Questions then had gotten just as loaded as the people asking them, and she had found herself drinking, while chastising them for buying into her Alexandrian persona.
He hadn't, had always knew who she was, except he had never allowed himself to think of her sexually. She had made jokes which had led to moments when they had flirted, and sure, it had stayed on his mind. Those memories had served him well, when he had jerked off if he was honest, among a collection of other memories much more innocent that he had collected for his personal fantasy use.
When people had played with her, teasing her, she had looked at Rosita and Tara and had dared them to say that the house's showerheads hadn't sold them on the idea of living there.
The thought of Carol pleasing herself in the same shower where he did his own business had been a powerful aphrodisiac for him, and he hadn't been able to shower since without having to deal with a boner.
He hadn't played with them, hadn't made fun of her, hadn't teased her, and truth was he would have been unable to do so, as Carol's freedom when she talked about her sex life and her sex drive had left him stupid. He wanted to know all those things, but he didn't want to learn about them along with the rest of their people. He wished he had found out about Carol's willingness to give blow jobs privately, being on the receiving end of one. He would have reciprocated, and gone down on her willingly. Ever since she had made that joke back at the prison, he had barely thought of anything else, of the way she would have tasted, and the way she would have responded to his touch. He had imagined her nipples erect, as he would have run his hand between her breasts, his mouth busy with the most pleasing job ever, pun intended.
Maggie and Glenn had signed the official papers the following day, still half hungover, and it had been a good day for them all, and Alexandria too, as celebrations came in spare and few.
That night and that stupid game were always on his mind, especially now.
Carol had kept on playing her part, her soccer mom part, and when Tobin - what kind of name was that anyway? – had come to ask if she would have dinner with him, she had accepted, saying it would raise suspicions if she didn't. He had heard her discuss it with Michonne who had asked her how far she was willing to take that charade, and Carol had answered that she would take it only as far as she was comfortable with it. It would be perfectly acceptable for her to never go out again with the guy if she said she hadn't felt a spark.
Daryl was sitting on the porch before the house, cleaning his weapons, trying to look nonchalant, but the look Michonne had given him had told him he would only fool people with two X chromosomes. Damn woman. Hell, damn all women. They turned your head the wrong way until all you could think about was them and how much you wanted and needed to protect them, even if they knew how to take care of themselves.
Jealousy had never really been a thing in Daryl's life. He had learnt from a young age that some people were born with it all, and others with nothing. He belonged to the beggars of course, and while envy was tempting, it didn't make the stuff you lacked magically appear. You had to get it another way, for material things, and try to find a way to make your psyche heal, when it came to unmaterialistic things such as a parent's love.
However, tonight, he had made the acquaintance of the green eyed monster people talked about like it was a real thing. It was. It was all in your head, but the thing was true, whatever shape it had in your mind. In his, it was shaped like a Tobin. He knew Carol had headed over to his place for dinner, as their houses were just too crowded, and if it had been up to him, dinner would have happened right here, at their house, with everybody coming and going, and with him seated at the end of the table, playing with a knife casually.
Yeah, he would have liked that. Sitting on the porch was the only thing he could do, because if he went on the guy's porch, then it would be tough to be all chill about it.
Carol was… He would not she was his, because she only belonged to herself, but she was the person he cared the most about in this whole damn town. Sure Judith came close second, and some of the others. However, Carol was his girl. She was the one who understood him, she was the one who saw him as more than just a hillbilly when he couldn't see it himself. Rick had called him brother countless time, but Rick probably didn't realize that if Carol hadn't done some work before hand, taking him in when he wanted to be a lone wolf, those heartfelt declarations would never have been said.
He stopped, as he heard a giggle, which was probably the most foreign sound ever to him. Carol was with Tobin, and they were making their way back to the house.
Carol saw him before her date did, and she stopped in front of the porch, where he remained in the dark and could not be seen by fucking Tobin.
"I spent a lovely evening, Tobin" she said, turning to face the guy.
The fucker actually went in for a kiss, and Daryl would have slit his throat if Carol hadn't pushed him back right away gently but firmly, saying something about not being ready, that she was finally getting the chance to be a widow and mourn and she couldn't be on the rebound or whatever. It made sense when you took into account her lies to establish that persona, but Daryl was barely seeing it. The guy had tried to put the moves on Carol.
She wished him a goodnight and stayed on the porch as the guy turned around, quite noticeably disappointed but at least gallant about it. She waited until he was past their street, and she turned to Daryl. She didn't say anything, just looked at him with this half smile of hers, the one that said "I know what you're doing here", and that she seemed to only ever use with him.
She let out a sigh, then got back into the house, leaving Daryl like an ass, on the porch.
It took him five minutes, maybe less, maybe more, but he got up, and went back inside, wondering what he should be prepared to say. He was not sorry. The guy was a creep, and could have been even more of a creep.
But he also felt… like he had gotten caught with his hand in the honey pot, or more accurately with his hand on his dick under the shower. He was transparent there, he had no delusion Carol had read the situation anyway but the way it had happened.
As he didn't see her, he went to his room, furious with himself, wondering if he had gone too far and if there was something he could do that would make things better.
He threw himself on the bed, that stupid bed which felt so unlike him and seemed to taunt him and the fact that he slept alone. Being angry was easier, he thought. It didn't matter if he was angry at himself, or at Tobin, or even at the bed, it was just so much simpler than asking himself "so I acted like a Cro-Magnon tonight, what's next?".
These past few weeks, since Maggie's and Glenn's combined bachelor and bachelorette party, it had messed with his mind. However, it had also opened a door, he thought, toward something else, toward intimacy with the woman he … No he was not using that word, thank you very much. He had been careful with Carol because he knew what it was to be abused, a different kind of abuse from hers, but he had no doubt that Ed had not been nicer in the bedroom, and though he had always seen the woman in her, even when she had trouble finding her again, too used to hiding herself, Daryl had never dared act on what he saw. He had never wanted to risk making her uncomfortable or worse. He valued what they had too much. Hell, he would settle with growing old next to her without physical contact if it meant that in the end they were buried side by side.
He was a sap.
Fucking Hell.
"You know," he heard, and he almost fell off the bed as Carol got in and closed the door behind her, "for a guy with balls, you sure are acting like a pussy."
He would have sworn on the Bible he blacked out for a moment. Those words… In Carol's mouth? As she made her way to his bed?
She didn't stop there, and he noticed that she had changed into a shirt buttoned loosely at the front. She put her hand on the bed, on one side of him, then the other on his leg, and all his blood went south.
Slowly, she crawled on top of him, looking like a vixen, flashing some skin and a confidence he had never seen in her. He would have said he was trapped except this was the best trap ever.
He looked at her face, as she crawled up his body, always keeping one hand on the bed and the other trailing up his body, and he saw something. If she knew him like the back of her hand, he knew her just as well, and though it was fleeting, he saw it, insecurity.
She was actually wondering if she had gone too far. This sent an electroshock through him, and he rose up to meet her as her hand stayed on his biceps, bringing their faces close together. She was wanted, more than he had wanted anything in whole life.
He had been a pussy, he thought, before grabbing the back of her head, and bringing their mouths together.
Finally, he thought as their lips touched, and his tongue sought permission to pass her lips, which she gave gladly. She fell on top of him, unable to remain in that uneasy position, and he grunted with delight as he felt all of her, and she felt all of him.
He was hard, and there was no way she didn't know. As if to prove him right, she pushed her hips into his, and he bucked up, to meet her, anticipating the moment when they would actually join and be one.
He kissed her with all his heart, gently, and she gave back as freely. She bit his lower lip, and he grabbed her hair, unwilling to let her go. He managed to roll them over, silently thanking God or whoever was there for the big bed otherwise they would have been on the ground. Though the thought of taking her on the ground, of burying himself into her warmth, the hard ground under her back… He liked that, liked it very much.
He tore his mouth away from hers and started sucking on the tender skin of her neck, as his hands started working on the buttons of the shirt she wore as a night gown. He wished it was his, but that picture was still doing him good. He exposed her breasts, and gently ran the tip of his fingers on the nipples, hard as rock. She had to be wet, he thought, and he wished he would feel it. He took a nipple in his mouth, and sucked on it, making her moan, as his hand worked the other one playfully. She arched against him, and his leg ended up between her legs, her core pressed against his thigh.
He couldn't help himself, his hand went for her and found her to be deliciously and torturously wet. He slipped a couple of fingers into her, and she grabbed his shoulder, biting his ear.
He may have been a pussy, but she had claws and a bite, he thought, as he kissed her lips again, before going back to her breast.
He felt her hands slip between them, and she started rubbing his cock through his pants.
He should have come right here and there. He just should have. He managed to say:
"I'm not gonna last long if you do that."
"What a shame, and here I had plans for your dick," she said, licking her lips without realizing it.
She would be the death of him. He buried his fingers deeper between her lips, and his thumb found the bundle of nerves, the Holy Grail if you asked him.
"You're not playing fair," she panted into his ear.
So his thumb brushed again against the skin and played slowly and gently with her clitoris. Her head rolled back, and he placed a kiss on the exposed part of her neck. He cursed silently at the darkness in the room, for he wanted to see all of her.
Through the window, the moon shone brightly, and he pulled himself from her, enjoying the sight of the shirt unbuttoned and showing her breasts. A button or two were still done, around her navel, but the shirt had ridden up and he could see her cunt.
He planted a kiss on her nipple, then another one on top of the buttons he hadn't undone, then he looked at her, before going in for her pussy, his eyes locked on hers.
She bucked up her hips when he pressed his lips against her clit then lapped at her juice rubbing his nose against the most sensitive part of her.
This was all instinct. There had been girls, and there had been women before her. He had done many things with those, but as of this instant, it was like they had never existed and everything was just his gut telling him how to please his woman.
She put her hands on his head, lacing her fingers through his hair, and she begged for more, which he was more than happy to provide.
It was the most natural thing in the world, wasn't it, two sets of lips meeting?
She pushed him off and he felt lost until she reached for his pants, saying:
"I want to suck your dick. I've dreamed of it. I'll make you feel good…"
"I'll hold you to that," he said, helping undo his pants and push his bowers off.
There would be time for more refined lovemaking later, were his last thoughts before he finally place his cock in front of her core, and slowly but firmly pushed in.
It was heaven. It was hell. He started moving in and out, losing all control over himself, and her legs came up to circle his waist, her arms around his shoulders, joining him, moving along with him, moaning into his neck, telling him about all the things she planned to do to him in retaliation, but all that mattered was her warmth, and the pleasure building in both of them. He tried to free a hand to help her push her over the edge, and stimulate her clit as he slid in and out, but she didn't need it. He felt her teeth against his neck, and he heard her muffled scream as she came, clenching around him like she would never let him go. This sent him over the edge, and with a few more thrusts, he was right there with her, before kissing her one last time, her taste on his lips, and letting himself fall on her.
He could feel his dick still in her warmth, and though he was not ready yet for round number two, there was nowhere else he wished to be.
He fell asleep a long time after she did, enjoying the sight of her limp and satiated naked body against his.
When he woke up, she was cuddled up against him, but one of her hands was already cupping his dick.
He smiled. Maybe Cro-Magnon had gotten something right, he thought, before his brain shut down and she was all he could see and feel.