Okay, I couldn't stop myself. I expanded it. Read and review, y'all!

Chapter Two

"What the hell are ya doin'?" came Daryl's voice.

"What's it look like, Darleena? Apologizin'." Rick grimaced at his leering tone. "That's it, boy."

"M-Merle, ya can't…we can't…p-please don't…" Daryl whimpered, and Rick nearly burst in right then. He'd followed silently after Merle when the older Dixon had ventured towards his family's end of the prison. Daryl might have been vouching for the man, but that didn't mean he didn't require some supervision.

And oh how fucking right he'd been. Merle had gone straight for Daryl's cell, just as Rick knew he would. He'd seen the way Merle had been looking at Daryl, since they'd returned together. There was too much heat in his gaze.

"Oh yeah? What can't I do?"

"This!"

Even from just outside the cell, Rick could hear the way Daryl was panting harshly. He knew well the way Daryl's breathing would pick up when Daryl was angry, or backed into a corner. But this was not the same.

"We're brothers!"

"That's right, we are," Merle drawled, "And that's why it's gotta be me. I know y'ain't never let no one touch you, and that ain't right. Ain't natural. That's why you're gonna let your big brother help ya. We both know it's gotta be me. There ain't no one else."

No, that panting wasn't about anger at all. Daryl was...aroused.

There was a long pause after that, before the sounds of jeans being unzipped and Merle praising his younger brother. Rick had always suspected Daryl's inexperience. He never looked too long at any of the women, or the men, and certainly never let anyone close enough to touch him.

There were a few times when Rick would clap a hand to his back as a sign of support or gratitude, but Daryl would inevitably shy away from his touch. He would tense, for a moment. A moment where Rick could see the tendons of Daryl's neck squaring off as he tried to ignore his instincts. But Daryl's tolerance would only last a few seconds, before he'd be shrugging the hand off and regaining his composure.

Rick heard Daryl groan from inside the cell, for the first time. Jealousy flared up inside him, whiting out the periphery of his vision. He wanted to be the one inside that cell, comforting Daryl. He'd thought about it more than he'd like to admit, what Daryl would look like, sound like, as Rick pleasured him. Daryl deserved that from him, something good to blot out all the pain he'd been made to suffer in his childhood.

"Fuck, ahh fuck," echoed Daryl's desperate moan, and all at once Rick realized how hard he was. He palmed his bulge through the rough denim of his jeans, exhaling sharply from the friction.

There was a wet sound, then another choked moan, and Rick couldn't help but peek behind the curtain. Not when Daryl was making those wonderful whining noises from only a few feet away.

Daryl had his back to him, but he caught Merle's eye straight away. The older Dixon released his brother's swollen balls with an obscene pop, and Daryl let out a small sound of protest.

"Merle."

"What's wrong, Darleena? Somethin' ya want?"

"Merle…c'mon…"

"That's right, baby brother. Know you want it. G'wan an' tell me."

Rick rubbed himself firmly through his jeans. This was a show, after all. He watched as Merle began to stroke Daryl again, using the lightest of touches. Anger and arousal boiled over into one, overshadowing any guilt over watching Daryl in such a vulnerable moment.

"Merle!"

"Thatta'boy, you beg for it. Tell me you want it."

Rick understood the real message there. See that Officer Friendly, he wants me. And only me.

Merle was tonguing Daryl's cock now, small, kitten-like licks along the sensitive ridge that connected the head with the shaft. And Daryl, Christ, the archer was just writhing underneath him, thrashing about and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He wasn't used to pleasure like this; that much was clear.

"Merle, please! Please, please…"

The older Dixon smirked in Rick's direction, then took Daryl back into his mouth, straight down to the hilt. Daryl bucked underneath him, moaning obscenely and fisting the sheets in either hand as he plummeted towards release.

There was a wet spot in the front of Rick's jeans now, and the rhythmic massage of his palm against the denim was becoming all too good. Daryl's body bowed up off the bed, and just as the archer whimpered Merle's name, Rick was coming. He relinquished his hold on the curtain to lean against the wall, panting through his orgasm.

Slowly, he slid down, settling against the wall with his legs splayed out in front of him. It was several minutes more before he heard Merle preparing to leave.

And then Daryl's half-broken rasp.

"Stay."

Rick's chest ached at the archer's soft, unsure tone.

"Please."

Rick heard Merle settle into bed along with Daryl. That night, he dreamt of the pair of them.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Daryl awoke to find his big brother wrapped possessively around his back, hugging him close and fast asleep. Well, most of him was fast asleep. There was one particular part of Merle's body that was wide-awake and digging into the crease of Daryl's ass.

For a moment, he felt sheer panic. It hit him like a bucket of ice water, nearly possessing him to bolt right out of the bed and leave the prison behind. But as soon as he tensed, there was a whisper from behind him, low and even and soothing.

"S'too early baby brother. G'wan back to sleep."

It was Merle. Merle was the one holding him, sleeping by his side. No one else. And once that thought registered, Daryl relaxed back into the bed, relishing the unfamiliar warmth.

"Was supposda go huntin'," Daryl rasped, but Merle only held him tighter.

"Not today y'ain't."

"People need food—"

"No. The Governor worked ya over good. Ya need to rest up some," Merle barked with a degree more harshness than he'd intended. But Daryl relented all the same, slipping back to their familiar routine.

Except for one small detail.

Daryl shifted in the bed, trying to get more comfortable, and unintentionally ground himself back into his big brother. Merle let out a low groan, and Daryl froze.

"S'alright, Darleena. Ain't gonna do nothin' to ya," Merle assured him, a smile in his voice. "Unless ya want me too."

Daryl huffed, but said nothing. The truth was, he had no idea what he wanted. Last night's events had come rushing back all at once, guilt and embarrassment overwhelming his senses. In his head, he knew it was wrong. Or at least, everyone else would think it was wrong. And for him, that was plenty. They were his family now too.

But it seemed the rest of his body hadn't gotten the memo, as he could feel the tingle of his nerves coming alight from Merle's closeness. He'd never slept in bed with anyone before. And he'd certainly never let anyone…do…what Merle had done.

Merle's hand was travelling down his torso now, slow and incremental, but with a clear destination in mind.

Daryl shivered, and the movement startled another groan from his brother. The younger Dixon froze, cheeks burning with the realization that his body was reacting as strongly to his brother's closeness as Merle's was.

"Relax boy," came the rumbling voice from behind him, "Ain't gonna do that to ya, this ain't like that."

"Then...what's it like?" Daryl bit back reluctantly.

"It's about you bein' right. I wasn't there for ya."

There he went saying it again, agreeing with Daryl for now the second time in his life. "It's...s'fine, Merle."

"No it ain't. Wanna know what this is about? This is about makin' that right. Gonna teach ya to let people near ya, baby brother."

Daryl cringed at the truth in his words. "What if I don't wanna?"

"Well, hell, that's the problem." Merle's fingers were toying with the waistline of his boxers now, trailing along his hipbones with just enough pressure to make him shudder. "See, that ain't so bad, is it?" Merle crooned.

Daryl grunted noncommittally, shivering again when Merle pinched at the sensitive skin. But the tenting of his boxers betrayed how much Daryl was enjoying the small touches, touches that left his inexperienced body a trembling wreck.

"Gonna have to ask for it this time, Darleena. You want this?"

Daryl pulled in a deep, shaky breath. "Yeah," he rasped.

That was all the confirmation Merle needed. He reached confidently into his baby brother's shorts and pulled out his straining erection, taking it firmly in his hand and pumping with a slow, easy pace.

Already, Daryl was panting into the bedspread, trying to stifle his unwilling moans. Merle palmed the spongy head with each stroke, spreading the gathering wetness down his brother's cock.

Daryl's cheeks burned with the knowledge of who was touching him right now, but the occasion of having anyone touch him at all was so devastating that it eclipsed his embarrassment.

He couldn't remember the last time touch had been a pleasant experience for him. The worse had always been the lash of his dad's belt, being dragged backwards by the scruff of his neck and beaten with bare knuckles for simply existing. The least had been the discomfort of a pat on the shoulder, or a brief hug, from his new family. He knew they meant the best, but even the shortest contact would make his stomach churn painfully.

This was different. This kind of touch wasn't just bearable, it was good. And it worried him how much he was already beginning to crave it. Needing that from Merle, needing it in general...well that would be the first time he'd needed anyone for anything, really. The first time he would have to depend on someone else to make him whole. It was frightening.

But then again, Christ, he was close already. Rutting into his brother's hand with small motions that had him rubbing back against Merle's crotch as a result. He could feel the way his brother was responding to all this, and it should have disgusted him. But instead he could sense the smallest flicker of pride. It was a startling realization, and he choked it back down, choosing to concentrate on the building heat coursing through his touch-starved body.

Merle could feel the increasing desperation of Daryl's movements, hear the way his breathing was shallow and rapid.

"You close, baby brother?"

The sudden burst of warm air against the crook of his neck made him tremble, and quite suddenly his balls were drawing up, and his entire body was shaking with need.

"That's good, baby brother. That's good. G'wan. G'wan an' give it to me."

Daryl whimpered when he came. He shoved his cock into the welcome tightness of Merle's fist, scrunching his eyes shut as he spurted against the concrete wall.

Merle held him close as he came down from his high. He muttered praises into the back of Daryl's neck, telling him he was good, so good, and how proud he was of him. Once Daryl had relaxed fully against him, Merle sat up at the edge of the bed, pulling on his shoes and shirt. Daryl rolled to look at him.

"Gonna go walk the fences, kill me some walkers," Merle told him, "You go back to sleep for a while."

He saw the sharp downward quirk of Daryl's mouth, as his brother fought not to spit back an argument. But the archer simply bit his lip, and nodded mutely, before rasping out a half-broken, "Alright."

Daryl was still watching him fixedly as he pulled back the curtain obscuring his cell.

"Sleep," Merle demanded, as he left the cell. And Daryl begrudgingly obeyed.