AN: This fic was to be a reply to a USS Caryl prompt, but I didn't read it properly, so instead of the voyeur aspect aspect, we have this! I have a fair amount of the next Edge chapter done and am going to go work on that now, and for those reading my Marol fic, After The Darkness Falls, I posted a chapter a couple of days ago. Anyway, if you enjoy this, please review. It truly makes my day.
Soap In Your Eyes
Standing in the common room, Carol swayed a little before using the wall to prop her up, scanning the room with weary eyes. God, she was done. She was so tired she could barely keep her vision straight. All she wanted to do was slide down the wall to her butt, close her eyes and use the cement floor as a pillow. She wouldn't admit it to anyone why she was still up; she felt like her day wasn't properly ended unless she got to eyeball Daryl as he stomped his way through the cells up to bed. So, because she was pathetic, here she stood, exhaustion rolling over her so fast that she almost keeled over, waiting for Daryl to come in from watch. She'd been up for close to twenty hours and was fast approaching that stage when even the simple things were funny. She was being fanciful, imagining and craving rolling hills in her mind's eye with Judith's stuffed rabbits bouncing around the flowers, daisy chains linked around their necks. She snorted as suddenly Beth entered the scene, dressed up like Maria on The Sound Of Music, singing The Hills Are Alive while swinging baby Judith in her arms. She forced herself off the wall before she sank too far into insanity and Daryl came in and found her giggling stupidly on the floor at absolutely nothing.
Her body was beyond tired. She knew it and yet she still pushed herself to do the little things that had been left that day for when the others woke in the morning—putting away Judith's toys, folding the last basket of laundry Beth had abandoned—probably when Judith had kicked up a fuss and she'd needed cuddling. She packed away Hershel's medical emergency box, sorting through it and making a quick note of things it was short on and planning to replenish his supplies in the morning. She was almost finished when she decided to do something about the small tub of bathwater still sitting on the main table, obviously waiting to be lugged out and tipped out in the morning. She could do it, she had the strength though she wouldn't be stupid to think it would be light as a feather. Once she'd lifted it up the steps and made her way to the outer door, though, she was kicking herself for not realising how much heavier things seemed when your body was so tired it wanted to just lay down and quit. Feeling the lethargy almost overwhelm her limbs, Carol knew she wasn't going to make it carrying the thing all the way to their usual spot for tipping out the bathwater, so in a moment full of desperation to be done with the foolish job and not a whole lot of thought, she yanked the door open and gave the tub the old heave ho, throwing at least two buckets full of dirty, soapy water straight into Daryl Dixon's face.
Carol dropped the tub and slapped her hands across her mouth in horror. Daryl was drenched and then he was yelping about soap in his eyes.
"Oh my God, Daryl! I am so sorry, I wasn't even thinking." Without another thought she tossed the tub aside and groped frantically for him, smirking just a little bit as he acted like a child about the stinging in his eyes.
"Damn it, woman. Cain't you watch where you're throwin' shit?"
Carol choked on an inappropriate chuckle before she wielded him inside, almost shoving him so fast he was tripping over his feet in the direction of the stairs and then toward his cell. His shoulder glanced hard against the doorway and then he was howling about being manhandled as he was jerked to a stop, leaving a puddle expanding around his feet while he still was yet to pry open his eyes against the bitter sting of Judy's favourite soap.
"Stop being such a baby," Carol scolded, though the smile in her voice was more than evident. "You're puttin' Judith to shame."
Then, without warning, she was roughly untangling him whirlwind fast, body and limbs, from his own clothes before he'd even had a second to protest. He was standing before her, chest bared, his face and hair still dripping wet as she quickly yanked off her over shirt to start mopping at the moisture on his face, drying his eyes and hair. His warm hands snapped around her waist, squeezing nervously as his breathing became uneven.
"The hell are you doing?" he growled and Carol realised how close he was, that this was the first time she'd had his naked skin under the palms of her hands. Her body reacted accordingly and her mouth just made it worse.
"I made you all wet, Dixon. At least I have the courage to do something about it, unlike you."
"Unlike me…what the fuck?"
Nervousness slammed into her like a runaway truck and Carol gulped, but, in for a penny, in for a pound, she thought stupidly while she ran her shirt through his messed up mop of hair, stepping so close her breasts could feel the heat of his chest though not quite touching.
"You make me wet all the time an' I have to clean up the damn mess all by myself."
There was dead silence in the room and Carol was so far gone she thought she was going to start laughing hysterically or fall over in an exhausted coma.
Daryl did what Daryl always did best, he ignored her despite the flush spreading across his face.
"Why are you drying me with your clothes?"
There was no way she was letting that one go. "To be honest, I'd thought about using my tongue but I thought you might enjoy that too much."
She was blushing a little herself now and in a quick diversionary tactic, she gripped his shoulder and spun his unresisting body around, unveiling his back's artwork fully to her gaze. She didn't make one sound, not one, but God he was tense, and she was so tired she felt she was going to collapse with her face between his shoulders and sleep standing up. It wasn't like she'd slept in worse places over the last two years.
"Your tongue?" His voice came out in a horrified squeak and Carol would look back on this moment as being the one where she'd gone and completely lost her mind.
"Maybe you need something for comparison?" And before his brain had any chance at all of working out her intention, she curled her arms up under his and embraced the balls of his shoulders as her tongue came out and she licked a slow, leisurely trail up his spine, collecting a dribble of bath water. He shuddered hard in her arms, but he hadn't shrugged her off, standing still in shock as she found another droplet that needed catching. It was insanely curious that the remnant water rested against each mark on his skin, whether placed there by a cruel hand or an artistic one. Her hands relaxed their hold on his shoulders, sliding sensually over his ribs and down his waist until her fingers brushed the belt in his pants.
"Hmmmm," she hummed in a distracted haze of desire, bone deep weariness mixing in to make her completely oblivious of the lines she was obliterating as she finally gave in to the yearning that had been eating away at her heart.
"You don't think Ass-kicker mighta pissed in that water?"
Carol stopped licking, the thought of baby pee dousing her growing lust in an instant. She looked at her abandoned shirt, looked back at his creamy flesh and was dying to place her mouth back on him, craved his taste so bad that it caused her belly to clench painfully with need.
"Ain't told you to stop," he said, suddenly surly, and Carol started in shock.
"But…baby pee isn't so appealing." She frowned, warring with what she wanted…and with maybe what Daryl wanted, and her natural aversion to something potentially gross.
"Thinkin' my shirt caught most of it. Only the pure stuff filtered through," he suggested hopefully and that decided her wonky, tired brain. She didn't think she'd get the chance again, so before another word could be uttered by either of them, her lips returned to his flesh and she kissed him like she was starving. Eventually the frenzy calmed and her calculating brain kicked in.
"Looks like I drenched your pants, too."
Her fingers fiddled with the belt buckle and Daryl didn't move, in fact she could tell that he wasn't even breathing. His belt fell open and then she was yanking open the snap of his jeans and inching down the zipper and as his pants slid down his hips, his hand slapped down over hers, trapping her palm against his lower belly.
"Don't…you…dare…move," he said, panting between words, but Carol was done taking orders. She dragged her lips across his shoulder blade and bit down, losing her mind to her basest desires and the sweet taste of his flesh on her tongue. The pressure on her hand lifted minutely, and that was all she needed. She fed, running her lips and her tongue ravenously over every inch of his back as her hand swept haphazardly across his pecs, moaning as they tightened beneath her fingers in reflex to her touch, down his belly to brush against the waistband of his boxers. He shuddered but made no move to stop her.
"You didn't say," Carol slurred tiredly, her brain in a total passion-haze, her breathing rapid and heavy. "Did you prefer my shirt or my tongue?"
Daryl shivered, his back muscles tensing and then, with an obviously dry throat and mental and emotional strain, "Think I'm gonna go with the tongue. What do you do for encores?"
She squeezed his hips, all four fingers slipping beneath the elastic before smoothly nudging the fabric down his hips, her own blood suddenly roaring behind her ears as she buried her face against his spine and panted erratically. She was so close and he wasn't resisting, but God, she was so tired. Maybe if she just closed her eyes… Pressed up against his back, her forehead fitting snugly into the curve of his back and her eyes drifting closed, Carol breathed in deeply and did a little happy dance in her head. He felt so warm, his heartbeat so strong and steady—though maybe a little fast—as she snuggled into him, loving that he allowed her to embrace him so easily, eager fingers tickling up his sides to squeeze around his chest. She took a deep breath and sighed in delirious happiness, then her mind went blank.
His mind was completely fuzzy when it all came to an abrupt end. Her hands went slack, sliding without purpose until she loosely hugged his waist, limp fingers resting unknowingly against his hard as a rock dick. Then she snuffled an indelicate snore against his back and he snorted, incredulous.
What the hell did he do now? He had his boxers and pants around his ankles, boots still on his feet and a woman that had got him all hot and hard asleep against his damn back. If that weren't the story of his whole sorry fucking life.
He looked around them, already decided he wasn't going to go traipsing around out of his cell half dressed with a sleeping Carol in his arms. That was just asking for an extreme about of ribbing and he was in no mood for that kind of shit, especially when he hadn't even done the deed. Damn woman had to completely douse him with Ass-kicker's bathwater. As if spending hours on watch imagining doing all sorts of dirty things to her wasn't enough to drive him crazy, she had to go and toss out the bathwater and leave him completely soaked. Not that he could argue against the way she took to fixing up her mistake. He didn't think his blood pressure was ever going to return to normal.
He strained to look over his shoulder and could just see the outline of Carol's face as she rested her cheek against his spine, a secret smile softening her lips. He chuckled, clasped her slack hands before she let go completely and fell to the floor, and gave a little jerk with his shoulder, hoping it might wake her the hell up.
"Carol? Come on, sweetheart. You need to get to bed."
"Hmmm, mossly ens you."
Daryl's brow hit his hairline, wondering what in the fuck she just said and deciding in his state it really didn't matter. Holding her hands a little tighter, he attempted to shuffle closer to his bed, holding her in place so she kept leaning on him, then he did a fancy manoeuvre, swivelling his hips and twisting hard to throw her down on his bed. She bounced, and fuck he got harder watching the way her chest jiggled, but instead of snapping awake like he'd expected the jolt to achieve, she snuggled with sheer commitment into his pillow and smiled even more beatifically.
"Shit, now I'm jealous of a damn pillow," he grumbled, chewing on his lip thoughtfully.
Shucking off his pants after removing his boots, he scooted her over and slid in beside her, barely wrestling out the covers from beneath them so he could cover them up and prevent some nosy asshole wandering through the next morning getting an eyeful of his bits. Way he felt right now, with Carol's tight, womanly body squished up against his, he was never gonna be soft again. It felt a little bit too real having her settled against so much of his bared skin and Daryl looked wistfully at the direction of his puddle of clothes, wishing the woman hadn't managed to completely saturate his pants, and wondering if maybe he shouldn't be sleeping in slightly damp boxers. She'd already destroyed most of his modesty, but for the sake of what remained, he was clinging to his undergarments like they were the last pair left in all of Georgia. He wrestled out his pillow a little so they could share, then he closed his eyes.
C Block was silent and Daryl felt like he'd been asleep for only a few hours when he woke to the sound of Carol muttering gibberish in his ear and her hand reacquainting itself with his body. She had one knee pushed between both of his and the heat of her hand as it roamed over every inch of his skin she could reach burned him deep. Daryl laid back, suddenly wide awake, heart thumping erratically in his chest and tried desperately to make a decision. If he let things continue he and Carol were going to have sex and as far as he was concerned, there was no coming back from that. He was sure as shit about this woman that once she gave herself to him she wouldn't be looking anywhere else. He never wanted her eyes to fall on some other asshole, even if they might look like they had more to offer her than he did. He knew there was no one else for him and by the way she'd devoted herself to mopping up Jude's bathwater from his bared flesh, he was ready to go out on a limb that she might be as into him as he was into her—and now he was ready to be as into her as he could physically get.
Her hand wandered lower and he gasped as she unexpectedly bypassed the tease completely and enclosed her fist firmly around his dick. He groaned deep in his throat as the palm of her hand slid right along his length, her grip increasing to an exquisite pressure that made the head bulge past her fist. Carol burrowed her face into his neck and started licking and his attention was split between the warmth of her lips and the gentle sweep of her finger over his slit, and in a frenzied moment before his head exploded completely, he had enough forethought to put his own hands on her and rip her remaining tank top right over her head, dropping it to the floor. He bucked his hips and lost an agonised groan from his throat when her loosened grip slid back down to the root of his dick and bumped against his stomach.
Carol's body went rigid and in the dim lit cell he could see her eyes snap open and glance down to her hand around his pulsing, rigid length and her pert breasts bared to his view. Her mouth opened but before she could get any words out, and before she could decide to let his weeping cock go, he swept work roughened fingertips up her ribs and cupped a breast in his hand, the soft swell of her flesh blowing his carefully constructed romantic moves right out of his head. He dived on her, twisting sharply so she was beneath him and he could play with both of her titties at once, sharing equally between his mouth and fingers.
"D…Daryl?"
Her breath came in sweet, little pants and he loved it. Loved how she was already moving against him, sweeping her hands up his back and around his neck.
"Shut up," he growled before diving right back in, flicking her nipple with the tip of his tongue before lapping at it with the flat of his tongue like a cat. He sucked it into his mouth, sucked hard enough to inflict illicit little shivers of pain and then he was working on her pants, snapping them open and working them free before she had a second to protest.
When she was completely nude, he stilled, slightly shocked at the position he now found himself, losing his momentary confidence like it could just slide off of him like the bathwater and pool on the floor with their clothes. His forehead fell to her collarbone and he breathed in deep, trying to stop his thundering heartbeat while he thought out a half-decent apology for how he'd acted. Before the right words could form, Carol wound her legs around his hips and dragged him toward her pelvis, one hand leaving the clasp around his neck to stroke his dick and then lead it home. She sighed as she bucked up against him and he slid an inch inside her. He felt the sweat spring to her skin, felt scorched by their combined heat. He pushed his hips a little, tentative to the intrusion but couldn't help groaning when her silky walls gripped hold of him and sucked him in deeper. A tip of her hips one more time and a valiant thrust by him and he was seated fully inside her to the base of his cock. His arms shook, beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and between his shoulder blades and the most powerful thought that slammed into him was that he wanted to fuck the life right out of her, right there on his own bed, and he hadn't even kissed her yet. Her fingers in his hair remedied that and he found her warm breath tickling at his lips and his tongue swept out quickly to lick his lips, preparing to meet hers for the very first time.
She watched him in the dark, held his gaze so he couldn't look away and even without light he could tell the colour of her eyes, see the dotted freckles across her face, knew the exact shade of her hair. She was beautiful and he could hardly believe she was here with him, wanting him the way he wanted and needed her. Aware of how easily he could fuck this up if he opened his mouth, he slowly lowered himself, his chest brushing the tight buds of her nipples and he whimpered like a scared little bitch before she put a stop to it by raising up and claiming their first kiss. It was molten and he hadn't expected it. No kiss he'd ever had slapped on him in his misspent youth had prepared him for something like this—for the passion and warmth that gushed through his body at the sensation of her plump lips on his, gently brushing back and forth until he thought he was going to burst. His whole body was stationary, his hunter senses focused entirely on her mouth on his, anticipating the second when her tongue slipped out of her mouth and licked at his lips, sending his heartbeat into a dizzy spiral that he was sure felt exactly like a heart attack.
"Daryl?"
"Yeah?"
She arched under him, her body adhering to his like glue and he shuddered helplessly. She kissed him again, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth and catching it between her teeth. A little nibble shot a new rush of blood to his dick and he stretched against her walls, pushing both their boundaries. She swivelled her hips, her fingers reaching his hips and squeezing tight.
"Move, baby."
He jerked and growled, turned on even more by the husky tone of her voice, the poignant note of need she betrayed and the endearment on her heart. She squeezed her legs against his ass and he moved, starting with slow strokes that matched the sweet, steady pulse of their kiss, then sped up as their passion ignited and spurred her on to take risks. She bit at his lips, at his neck, his ear, everywhere she could reach in a frenzied attack with her mouth. He replied by sucking the flesh of her breast into his mouth and holding it there, tight, drawing her blood to the surface so he'd be reminded after this that he'd made her his, that she'd come willingly, that he made her come at all.
Quiet cries of pleasure ripped from her throat and he knew she was trying to keep quiet. He should have hated the noise, worried about who would have ears to hear them, but as he pushed his cock into her, then withdrew, loving the slip and slide of her body around his, he realised he didn't give two shits who heard them, didn't care what they'd say in the morning. All that mattered was that this had taken too long and if it took Ass-kicker's bathwater to bring them to this, he'd gladly wear it and then some.
The thrusting pace of his hips quickened and Carol grew frantic beneath him, her body moving as fast as his rhythm dictated. They were growing slick with sweat, hot with the friction of their bodies pushing and pulling against each other and every stroke had Carol whimpering a little louder, every withdrawal extracting a more drawn out moan. He loved the symphony of music she made during sex, loved what it did to him. He tore his lips away from hers, gasping for breath, quivering as his strength diverted from his upper half to compensate his lower, his cock swelling, his balls drawing up to indicate the final show was close. He lapped at her breasts, his fingers searching between her legs for the nub that would complete the moment, if he managed to manipulate it just right. Carol caught at his hand, brought it to her mouth and sucked his thumb in deep, making it nice and wet. When he pulled it free from her lips, glistening with her saliva, he immediately placed it over her clit and rubbed it around in slow circles, slowing his own thrusts in time to this new exploration, finding that it turned him on even more. Her moans turned swiftly into breathless sobs that echoed off the prison walls, her hips swivelling against his thumb as he pumped his dick for all he was worth. When she finally fell apart she lifted sharply off the mattress, pushing her breasts into his face, her walls tightening spasmodically around his dick until he felt squeezed and released in such a rapid rhythm that he found it helpless to hold back. He reached his end game with a growl, pistoning his hips until he was completely drained. When it was over, the sensations finally passing through their systems, he collapsed on top of her, taking in the rapid movement of her diaphragm, the moisture coating her skin, her fingers clasped in his hair and holding him to her. Finally, he pushed himself up and propped himself on an elbow, peering down at the shadow of her beneath him.
"Holy shit. Maybe next time you better get a towel," he deadpanned, then chuckled as she slapped at his chest weakly.
"Next time I'll make you clean up your own damn self," she said and he knew without even being able to see that she was pouting.
"So…baby…you stayin'?" He waited nervously, hoping she didn't want to just jump up and leave him with thoughts that would probably torture him into indecision about what just happened.
"Uhuh. I'm too naked to go wandering around in the dark." Her fingers ghosted tenderly down the side of his face and he tucked his head into her shoulder, kissing the crook of her neck.
"Best you stay put then."
He could feel the warmth of her smile as she hugged him close, her fingers soothing as they gently combed through his hair. "I'm not going anywhere. You're gonna have to throw me out if you want me gone."
"Nah, dangerous things happen when people go throwin' shit around in this place."
Carol giggled and he could hear the drowsiness starting to return. He shifted so he was lying on his side on the bed, then dragged her into the secure circle of his arms, kissing her softly once on the lips. "Get some sleep, beautiful."
She kissed him back, one soft, loving peck before relaxing against him, her arm slung across his waist to snake lazily up his spine.
"Night, Pookie."
He fell asleep with a smile on his lips and his woman in his arms.