The next day, Daryl couldn't wait to get back home from work.

He had never really liked working for Joe, especially because his shitfaced son Len seemed to take pleasure in annoying the fuck out of the redneck, to get him in trouble with his old man. Today was even worse, the hours ticking by agonizingly slow. And then, just when he was about to get off, some jackass came in with a busted up Impala, and Daryl had been forced to stay behind and give the car a once-over.

The vehicle was in a sad state, and he'd have more than enough work fixing it up tomorrow. He even told the guy that it would be cheaper to just get a new one, especially in the long run. The man didn't seem to care, green eyes firm as he told Daryl he wanted, as he called it, 'baby' back up and running as soon as possible.

Daryl got home half an hour later than he had originally intended, which meant he'd have less time to get ready. Not that he actually knew what that entailed. Daryl had never wasted time on thinking about his looks, or his clothes. He had thrown on whatever he could find that fit. His momma had bought him clothes every now and then, back when she'd been alive. But she had been gone for a long time, and after that, every piece of clothing he owned had been either handed down by Merle, or from the second hand store.

Didn't really matter, he thought, stepping under the warm spray of water after waiting ten minutes for the water to actually heat up. No matter what he wore, his face was his face, he couldn't really change it. And his face wasn't exactly appealing. In fact, Daryl had always thought of himself as ugl-

That's enough. "Don' wanna hear ya talkin' 'bout yerself like that again, ya hear me? Ain't ugly. An' ya ain't dirty. Don' say that shit about yerself. You understand?

"Fuck." He breathed the word into his shower, running a hand through his hair, chewing on his lower lip, worrying the flesh.

He'd met Rick twice, and already the man had found his way into Daryls head, had burned his words into his mind, and no matter how hard the archer tried, he'd never forget them. And while he technically hadn't been saying anything bad about himself, somehow he knew that Rick wouldn't like him thinking it either.

He couldn't do anything about his face, but he could damn well make sure he was spotless, scrub off the sweat, grease and oil from his body until there was nothing left but skin and the scent of cheap soap. Was Rick the kind to wear cologne, or did he prefer plain old soap? Would Daryl be able to get close enough to take a good wiff of the cops scent tonight, or would he be left wondering?

His cock was starting to take an interest, gradually hardening as Daryl fantasized, thinking about what it would be like to nuzzle the officers neck, inhale deeply, drown himself in his scent. He'd press open mouthed kisses onto the sensitive skin, nip at the cops jaw.. Before Daryl knew what he was doing, he took hold of his cock, giving it a slow, yet firm tug, moaning softly.

"Rick.." He husked, eyes falling shut, imagining it was Ricks hand on his cock, stroking him at a torturous pace, making him whimper with want. He remembered Rick telling him he'd make him beg for it, would tie him down and take him- His cock jerked in his hand, pre-come already oozing out of the tiny slit, mixing with the water that cascaded down the archers body.

He wouldn't beg, even if Rick took him home tonight. Because Daryl fucking Dixon didn't beg, he just didn't. He'd keep it together until Rick couldn't wait anymore, couldn't stand another second of teasing, and just fuck him-

Come on, now. Know ya can be good fer me.

"Shit." Daryl gasped, wanting so badly to stroke himself faster, but not quite able to actually do it, because.. because.. "Ah, shit. Fuckin'- Rick, please."

That's it. Good boy.

Daryl groaned, finally allowing himself to stroke faster, to buck his hips, fuck into his fist. Nothing else matter then, as images of Rick danced through his head, grinning at him, touching his hip, breathing out the words Daryl hadn't even known he wanted to hear. It took only a handful of strokes before he was coming, throwing his head back to let out drawn out moan, spurting copious amounts of seed onto the wall and the shower floor.

Panting, the archer moved forward to place his forehead against the tiled wall before him, refusing to open his eyes and encounter the evidence of what he'd done. Getting off to the thoughts of a cop telling him what to do, making him so desperate for something that Daryl couldn't even name. All he knew was that he wanted more.

And so, after his breathing had slowed, Daryl started washing every inch on his body that he could reach, paying special attention to his nether regions, just in case. No matter how the evening ended, he was prepared.

Maybe he should have spent more time thinking about what to wear, Daryl thought, sitting at the bar, sipping on his beer, much like the night before. On this night, though, Daryl had actually taken the time to fish his nicest clothes out of the duffel bag, a simple black T-shirt and a pair of gray jeans with a single rip in it, right above the archers right knee.

It had been depressing to go through the few items of clothing he had, and realizing that they were all all either ripped or worn thin, most adorned by stains from the motor oil he worked with. This wasn't ideal either, but it would have to do. Maybe with Merle in prison, Daryl could go and buy himself a pair of jeans, and a few shirts that hadn't previously belonged to anyone. Maybe he'd ask Rick about his favorite color, if he could manage to sneak the question into the conversation casually. His angel wing vest had stayed home tonight, mainly because he hadn't gotten a chance to go down to the stream and wash it recently.

Daryl had been here for thirty minutes, and despite not having decided on a time to meet, he couldn't help the anxiety slowly rising within. What if Rick had just been messing with him? He was probably sitting somewhere with his cop friends, laughing about the stupid redneck that was waiting for him, because even if Rick was gay, he could do a lot better than Daryl.

"Thinkin' too loud again, Daryl." For the second time, Rick had managed to scare the fuck out of the archer in as many times, and did that man ever make a single fucking sound when he moved?! "Heard ya from all the way outside."

Daryl gave a grunt, lowering his head to avoid Ricks perfect fucking eyes. The cop would be giving him that intense look again, as if he was looking straight into the rednecks skull, reading every single thought that played in Daryls mind.

"Finish that up." Rick said, moving just close enough to be in the archers personal space, fingertips brushing against the archers lower back for just the fraction of a second. "Want ta take ya somewhere."

"Where?" Daryl asked, trying to regain his equilibrium, because even with the layer of fabric separating their skin, it was like he'd been burnt, heat radiating outwards from where Rick had touched him.

"'s a surprise." Rick replied, and finally, Daryl found the strength to look into the cops face, once more taking in just how attractive Rick really was. Fuck, he could stare at that face for hours, could listen to Rick talk for even longer.

"I'm not gonna end up like the victim in one of them shitty daytime cop shows, am I?" That made Rick laugh, prompting Daryl to give a small smile, no matter how hard the archer tried to keep a straight face. Ricks laughter was infectious, his joy almost tangible. He wanted to make Rick laugh again and again, memorize the sound, so he could recall it over and over, until the day he died.

"Come on. Lets get goin'."

Daryl nodded, draining the last of the liquid in his glass, hastily paying for his drink, handing over money to the female that had been working the first time he'd come here. Rick was already walking towards the door, and Daryl quickened his steps, catching up with the cop just as he made his way outside. They turned left, the streets mostly empty save for the occasional car driving by them.

"Have a good day?" Rick asked, glancing at the archer, watching carefully as Daryl pulled out his smokes, handing one over to the other male without even being asked. It was just something they did now, share Daryls smokes while talking. "Thank ya, Daryl."

"'suppose." Daryl replied, shrugging in a manner that he hoped looked casual. "Yerself?"

"Was fine. Long." The archer nodded. He knew that feeling all too well, when all you wanted to do was lay in bed after a busy day at work..

"Don' have ta be here, ya know." Despite his efforts, Daryls voice wavered just the tiniest bit. He didn't want Rick to leave, wanted to be selfish and ask Rick to stay with him. But if the cop was tired, he should get sleep, not take a walk. "Can go home, if yer tired."

Ricks steps stilled, and so Daryl stopped moving too, turning to face the officer, brows furrowed slightly. This was it, Rick would pat Daryl on the back and thank him. They'd walk back to the bar, and Rick would get into his car and go home. Maybe he'd never come back.

Once again, Rick did exactly the opposite from what Daryl had expected.

Blue eyes captured Daryl, made him want to whimper at the piercing gaze, successfully distracting him for long enough until Rick made his move, catching the redneck completely off guard as he placed a hand against the side of Daryls neck, thumb brushing along the line of his jaw, and then his cheek. He could barely react before his attention was forced to a hand at his hips, squeezing gently, thumb brushing upwards, under his t-shirt and over bare skin.

"Wanna be here." Rick told him, faces so close together that he could feel the cops warm breath against his lips, and it would be so easy to just lean forward and fucking do it- But they were in public. Anyone could see them standing here, and fuck, if Merle got word of this.. "Don' ya wanna be here, Daryl? With me?"

The questioned snapped Daryl out of his sudden panic, forcing him to focus so he could answer, because Rick would want him to, not just with a nod or a look, but actual words. The archer inhaled sharply, steeling himself, gathering all the courage he could before replying.

"Wanna." He breathed, before hastily adding. "Wanna be here. Wanna be.."

"Gotta tell me what ya wan', Daryl. " Ricks voice had gotten even more alluring, sounding lower than before, rougher.. and maybe Daryl wasn't the only one that felt it, this thing between them. "Can't give it ta ya if I don' know what it is ya want, now, can I?"

"Wanna be with you." Daryl breathed the words out of him, feeling something deep inside him coming undone, something even more confusing than the flutter of before. It felt warm, and safe, and it spread through him like wildfire. Ricks reply only made this a million times better.

"Yer amazin' Daryl, ya know that?" The cop chuckled, moving his body even closer to the archers, mere inches separating them from touching. Daryl stood straighter, chest puffing out with pride, because apparently he had done well, had pleased Rick, and there was no better feeling in the entire fucking universe than the one currently burning through his veins, setting him alight. He didn't even think to protest the statement, there was no way he was amazing, but right now all he could think about was how much he loved when Rick smiled at him. "Wanna be with ya too. But I got other plans fer us tonight. Come on."

Despite the disappointment Daryl felt, knowing that Rick wouldn't take him home and do all the things he had promised, the archer followed the officers lead, walking in silence, side by side. A few minutes later it seemed they had reached their destination, and Daryl quickly realized that he had been lead to the city's park. It was a fleck of green in the concrete jungle, where the city folk could go and pretend they knew what it was like to be in the middle of nature. Daryl didn't ask how the cop knew that this was a much more comforting environment to him than the tall, cold building that surrounded the bar.

There were only a few other people within, mostly seniors walking their dogs, a young couple here and there.. And him and Rick. It seemed odd, to be in a park with another guy, but for tonight, Daryl didn't want to think about what this looked like. And Rick wasn't even touching him, just leading the way, and Daryl wasn't sure if that made him feel relieved or upset.

They settled on the lush lawn, a few feet from a pond, the sun already lowering itself to the horizon. The silence should have been unnerving, but instead of becoming tense as he usually would, Daryl felt his muscles relax, felt like a weight was being lifted off his chest. He didn't have to say, or prove, anything to Rick. If the cop wanted him to speak, he'd start a conversation. It was okay to not know what the hell he was doing, because Rick knew what to do. Daryl couldn't think of anyone he had trusted that much in his entire life, not even his momma.

The sun was half swallowed by the horizon by the time Rick did speak again, watching a family of ducks still swimming in the pond, looking so utterly peaceful that Daryl wished he had a camera on him. Rick was beautiful, sitting with his legs stretched out before him, hands placed in the grass behind him, resting his weight on his palms, face lit up with.. content, maybe? Whatever it was, Daryl wanted to burn this moment into his mind.

"Tell me somethin' about ya no one else knows. Don' have ta be nothin' big." It seemed an odd request, but Daryl immediately tried to come up with something he could share, something not even Merle knew, something..

"Saw a chupacabra once. Was huntin', and I saw it." He regretted saying it the second the words left his mouth, because Rick was going to think he was insane. Who the fuck started talking about a blood sucking goat that most people didn't even believe was real. He was once more tense, the muscles in his arms, legs and back coiled tight, because in just a second Rick would start laughing, and Daryl would be able to jump on his feet and storm off-

"Daryl." Ricks hand was him again, brushing fingertips against the back of his hand, and in that moment it felt like pity, like Rick was trying to sooth him because he had lost his fucking mind. It was unbearable, and Daryl snatched his hand away, coming to stand on his feet, wanting to get away-

"Daryl, stop." Rick voice was firm, left no room to argue, froze Daryl in place. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what was happening to him, what was Rick doing to him? His breathing became shallow, rushed out of him with increasing speed, anxiety flaring in his chest.

"Jus' breath." Rick was standing before him, hands lifted to show the archer he wasn't going to touch him, wasn't going to hurt him. "Know ya can do it, Daryl. Jus' gotta breath, nice and slow, a'right? Think ya can do that fer me? Be my good boy?"

The archer struggled, his body trembling with barely contained fear, and he was about to make a run for it when he caught Ricks eyes with his own, seeing something in the blue pools,an expression Daryl recognized on the cops face. An emotion that that had never been directed at him. Worry. Rick was worried. About Daryl. And fuck, he didn't want Rick to worry, didn't want to cause him any distress, because Rick had been so good to him. And so he swallowed, swallowed again, and finally nodded, focusing on filling his lungs deeply on the next inhale, letting the air escape his lungs slowly on the exhale.

"That's it Daryl. Doin' real good. Keep goin', darlin', just keep breathin'." Ricks encouragement was enough reason to repeat the action, again and again, until his breathing had settled into a normal rhythm once more. It felt almost surreal, standing in a park with a cop. A cop that seemed to want Daryl, for reasons the archer couldn't understand, that was willing to endure how fucking jumpy Daryl was around him.

"A'right now?" The brunette asked after a few more moments, the silence only interrupted by Daryls breathing. The archer gave a nod, biting into the flesh of his lip, taking a step towards Rick, without knowing what made him do so.

"'m sorry. Didn' mean ta- .. 'm sorry." He mumbled, casting his gaze onto the floor, shoulders hunched. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go. Rick surely had had some kind of plan in mind, and he had fucked it up, had ruined everything. If the cop turned and left, Daryl would have understood. Everyone eventually left, even Merle. There was no reason to think Rick would be different.

"Daryl, 's fine. Look at me." And Daryl obeyed, if hesitantly, once more locking eyes with the cop. "Wanna touch ya, Daryl. That okay?"

"Yeah. 's fine." Only seconds later, Rick had taken the archers hand into his own, entwining their fingers, and Daryl allowed it. Ricks palm was warm against his own, his grip just firm enough to be comforting, reassuring even.

"Gotta tell me if 's too much." Rick whispered, moving closer, pressing their foreheads together as he had the night before. Unlike then however, Rick didn't break the contact between their bodies a moment later, but stayed still, eyes shut. It gave Daryl the chance to study this face closer, to memorize the small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, invisible unless you really looked, the way Ricks nose seemed to curve to right left ever so slightly, probably from having his nose broken. His lips were smooth, full, and Daryl wondered if they felt as soft as they appeared to be. "Answer me, Daryl. Use yer words."

"Gonna tell ya if 's too much." Daryl didn't have to think, he just replied, and it was so freeing, not having to think about the shit he usually did. What people would think of him, what they'd say, what Merle thought about him, not wondering if what he had said sounded stupid. Rick took it all away.

"Good boy, Daryl. Bein' so good fer me.. Fuck." God, he'd never heard Rick curse before, but it sounded absolutely obscene, like he only did it when his control slipped, something he muttered under his breath for no one else to hear. It took a split second for Daryl to decide that he wanted to make Rick curse again, in any way he could, wanted to make the other man become undone, like he was coming undone. Wanted Rick to be as desperate as Daryl was.

"Wanna be good fer ya. Since the day I met ya." The archer husked, feeling desire rising, sending a tremor up his spine. "Been thinkin' 'bout it all the time. 'bout makin' ya happy, bein' good fer ya, like ya wan' me ta."

This was easily the most embarrassing confession Daryl had made in his life, but Ricks reaction was so fucking worth it. A quiet gasp came from parted lips, another hushed 'Fuck, Daryl.' lingering between them, and ohgodyes, it was fucking amazing to see Rick like this, to feel him so close.. Daryl was greedy, he wanted more, more words pouring out of him.

"Please, Rick. Wanna be yer good boy. Wan' ya ta tie me down, make me beg.." He wasn't lying, not even a little, no matter what he'd tell himself in bed tonight, when reality hit him like a freight train. Right now, it was only them, and Rick liked what he heard so obviously, Daryl wondered if he could push him into even more, maybe get the officer to take him home after all. "Wanna-"

He was cut off as Ricks lips crashed into his, stopping Daryls heart mid-beat, needing a second to process what was happening. His mind caught up, and then he was kissing back, tangling the hand not currently being held into brown locks, allowing Ricks tongue to push into his mouth, to explore every inch of it, and if he died right now, Daryl would die the happiest man on earth. It was utter bliss to feel Rick against him, to feel a strong arm wrap around his waist, coming to rest on the small of his back, pulling him in closer, bodies finally really touching for the very first time.

The archers cock hardened in record time against the cops thigh, and Rick swallowed down the moan that ripped itself from deep in his chest, could barely believe he was actually making out with Rick fuckin' Grimes, but here he was, letting Rick take as he pleased, let him lead the entire situation, and there was no way Daryl could keep his hips from rocking forward when he felt something hot, and incredibly hard rub against his thigh. Rick was hard. Rick was really hard. For Daryl. And fuck, wasn't that just the most perfect thing in the world?

As quickly as the kiss had started, it ended, Rick pulling back with a rapid motion, moving away until once more, only their hands were touching. His breathing was labored, just like Daryls, and even in the darkness that had settled around them, Daryl could see Ricks cock twitching against the zipper of his jeans. But then, if he had liked it so much, why had he stopped?

Oh fuck, Daryl had disappointed him somehow, had done something wrong, had made Rick stop, and shit, he had to do something, had to make it up to the man, had to-

"Stop, Daryl. Whatever yer thinkin', stop." Ricks voice was still somewhat rough, but quickly recovering the smooth quality it held when the officer wasn't turned on. "Jus' need a moment. Need ta calm down 'fore I do somethin' stupid and take ya home."

"Could take me home." Daryl insisted, wanting so badly to press himself back against the cops body it almost hurt.

"I know I could. Shouldn'. Not yet." Rick shook his head, but seemed to have gathered his wits, gently tugging the archers hand, still firmly clasped in his own. "Lets sit back down."

"Gotta tell me why." Daryl grunted, but complied with Ricks wishes, lowering himself back onto the grass beside the brunette. "Why ya won' take me home."

"'s complicated." Rick answered, lowering his head, something Daryl had never witnessed before. He looked almost vulnerable now, as if Daryl had pushed into something he wasn't supposed to. But he needed to know.

"I got time." Rick chuckled at that, rubbing a hand over his face, and finally nodding.

"Part of it is what I like. Ya know, in bed." A sigh, and then Rick continued. "Ya ever heard of BDSM?"

"Heard 'bout it." Daryl vaguely remembered hearing conversations about that topic at Merle's dealer, but he hadn't bothered to pay much attention. What he did know was that it involved binding, and toys. Sometimes even blades. He wasn't sure how he felt about the last one, but the first two seemed fine. "Not much, though."

"'s fine. Its a lot ta explain, so I'm jus' gonna tell ya the basics, an' we can talk about it more when we're not in public." Rick glanced at the archer, as if he was trying to figure out if this would make Daryl run. "There's Dominants and Submissives. Those terms are pretty self-explanatory, I think. Basically, its about two things. Control, and trust. The Submissive hands over control, because he or she trusts the Dominant to take care of them, to give them what they need. And the Dominant in turn cares for the Sub, in any way they agree on." Another sigh, and then a deep breath. "I.. enjoy bein' the one in control. I enjoy havin' someone trustin' me like that. Fer different reasons that I don' wan' ta get into right now. I didn' know if that was somethin' ya were open ta."

Daryl took a few moments to ponder the information he had been given, and Rick seemed to just know, remaining silent while Daryls mind worked. Finally, the archer spoke.

"Said that was part of it. Whats the other?"

"Haven' taken anyone home since.." Rick broke off, and now it was Daryls turn to worry, watching carefully as Rick tilted his head back, staring into the sky. Giving the cops hand a gentle squeeze was all he could do, hoping it would make whatever Rick had to say easier. Hoping that his presence was comforting to the other. "Since my wife and kid died."

Shit. Daryl had always been bad with these situations, usually avoided them by simply taking off. But he couldn't do that now, not with Rick. He couldn't.

"'m sorry." Daryl breathed, hoping that it was enough, that Rick would know what the archer felt, but couldn't express properly. He felt sorrow for the mans loss, and for his pain, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, to do something to take the pain away.

"Thanks." Rick sighed again, turning his head to look at the archer, giving him a crooked smile. "Guess this isn't what ya expected, huh? Me ramblin' on-"

"Don' mind." Daryl immediately interrupted, narrowing his eyes, giving another firm squeeze of his hand. "Wanna know everythin'."

"I'll tell ya everythin', I promise. But that was 'nough fer one night." Rick smiled, but even the smile seemed somehow tainted by sadness, and Daryl hated it. The need to make Rick happy was overpowering, and he was just about to open his mouth to speak, when Rick beat him to it.

"'s not all of it, though." Daryls mouth closed, brows furrowing again, listening intently. "..Never really felt like this 'bout anyone before. Not even her. Scares the fuck outta me, if I'm honest. But I can't stay away from ya, neither."

That, Daryl hadn't expected. Rick being drawn to him. Feeling the same way as the archer did. It was scary, for both of them.

"...Feel it, too. Can't stay away." Daryl mumbled, biting down on his lip, this kind of open conversation entirely foreign to him, and yet somehow liberating.

"'m glad, Daryl. Really am." Then, silence. Moments spent just looking, really seeing each other, neither willing to break whatever was going on between them, connecting them in a way Daryl had never experienced before. Time seemed suspended, and when Rick finally did flick his eyes away, the archer didn't know if minutes, or hours had passed.

"Should get goin' back. Got work in the mornin'." Rick stood, carefully pulling Daryl up with him, hands still firmly locked together, and Daryl didn't want to let go right now. In fact, he never wanted to let go. Wanted to keep his hand pressed firmly against Ricks until he took his last breath.

But that wasn't possible. They could get away with this in the park at night. But when they returned to the streets, made their way back to the bar.. Someone could see.

"Yeah. Got work tomorrow, too." Daryl sighed, averting his eyes as he slowly slid his hand out of Ricks, giving him an apologetic glance. "..Can' let my brother find out."

It was all the explanation Daryl was willing to give right now, but once more Rick didn't push him. He simply accepted it, and soon they were walking to the parking lot beside the bar, silently. There had been so much talking tonight, so many things to think about, that the silence was refreshing. Being able to enjoy Ricks presence without the need to make conversation had quickly become one of the archers favorite things in this world.

Now, his favorite thing was obviously kissing Rick. That kiss had been mind blowing, even if he had been too stunned to pick up on Ricks scent. The feeling of Ricks tongue against his, the way he had touched him.. Daryl would be thinking about this every single time he pleasured himself from now on, no doubt.

Rick walked Daryl to his pick up, and then they stood there, still exchanging not a single word.

"..I got night shifts fer a couple days, now. Won' be able ta come see ya here." Daryl felt a sharp tug at his heart, but nodded. Rick had to work, it wouldn't be fair to make him feel bad for it, just because Daryl would miss him. "Gimme yer hand."

Daryl wanted to protest at first, because they were right out in the open, any patron of the bar that came out would see them, everyone from the street- But Rick wouldn't do anything to make him uncomfortable. He never had. And so Daryl lifted his hand up, letting Rick take hold of it, palm up, pulling a pen from his pocket. The scribbling against his palm made his fingers twitch, made him huff out a chuckle.

"Tickles." He supplied when Rick glanced up from his work. The cop nodded, and continued his task. When he finished, Daryl glanced at his palm, greeted by a sequence of numbers.

"...Could call after work. If ya wan' ta. Probably get off when I'm 'bout to start my shift." Joy flooded Daryl from head to toe. A phone number. Rick wanted the archer to be able to reach him. Wanted to talk to him, even when they couldn't meet.

"Yeah, I can. I can do that." Rick chuckled, nodded and took a step back.

"Should get in the car now. Go home, get some sleep." Daryl nodded, moving to unlock the car, wishing that he could at least kiss Rick goodnight, something to show the cop that he really cared. As it was, he had to trust that Rick knew , that he had somehow read it in Daryls eyes, or voice. He turned his head, glancing at Rick over his shoulder.

"Night." He mumbled, opening the door, climbing into the driver seat. Rick stepped forward, placing a hand on the car door, stopping the archer from closing it.

"Good night, Daryl. Don' forget ta be good an' call me after work."

And then the door was shut, and Rick was walking away to his car. Daryl barely resisted the urge to jump out and chase the cop. Get into his car and let him do that stupid thing he had mentioned earlier that night. Using every ounce of willpower he had left, Daryl started the engine and made his way home.

Tomorrow, after work, he'd call Rick. He'd be good for him. He'd be everything Rick wanted

He'd be Ricks good boy.