She's back home, rechecking their rations and rotating the few canned goods they each keep in their packs. It's hard to concentrate, all she can keep on her mind is the look on his face and the desperately relieved way he said her name. She remembers her friends talking about sex, about how it would feel, whether or not it would hurt. They talked about what they'd be wearing, where they would be. They never talked about how to handle this. How to handle having someone want this, how to handle yourself when you realized you liked it too.
The door opens and she knows it him. She can hear the thud of his boots hitting the hardwood floor and the way he clears his throat a little too loud instead of calling out to see if she's there.
"Hey, I'm in the kitchen."
Daryl walks up to her and kisses the side of her head. "Hey, how's Lil' Asskicker doing? Maggie?"
"They're good, how was it out there?"
He shrugs, "Same as always."
They're quiet, he watches her move around the kitchen as she gets dinner ready.
"You don't gotta cook all the time, for me, I mean." His voice is soft, concerned.
"It's alright Daryl. I like it." She slides a plate in front of him and smooths his hair out of his face. "I like this, you."
"Mmm. Me too."
She doesn't bring it up again that night, her constant thoughts of the night before. When they finally crawl into bed together it's like they've been transported back to that awkward first time together. Their words and actions are stilted. She can feel him pulling away, shrinking down small inside himself. Daryl hardly looks at her until she tugs on the hem of his shirt. He takes it off and drops it next to him on the bed. He watches as Beth takes the worn out cotton shirt between her hands.
As she twists the fabric in her hand she remembers back to when they found each other. How he still had rope burn on his wrists and bindings on his ankles, the lasting remnants of an awful black eye and reddened skin on the sides of his mouth. She thinks back to the first quiet moment they had together, sitting by a small campfire. She remembers kneeling down in front of him and untying the frayed pieces of nylon that were chafing his skin. She remembers how he kept his eyes on her and seemed to let the rest of the world slip away.
He's watching her like that now. He watches her reach for his hand and lift it to her mouth to lay a kiss on the mark she didn't intend to leave there. He watches her twist the shirt into a figure eight and slip one loop over his wrist.
"Is this okay?"
Daryl can feel his cock twitch with the almost insignificant amount of pressure he feels. He swallows down the lump in his throat and nods. Beth reaches over him for his other hand and repeats the process. She lays them down on his stomach while she moves to undress.
He doesn't try to move, the shirt isn't really doing anything to keep him restrained, but the way he's laying there, it might as well be a pair of handcuffs. Daryl doesn't take his eyes off her while she strips down, he hardly even blinks. Just silently watches her pull that tank top over her head and unclip her bra. She steps out of her jeans and panties in one movement and climbs onto him. Beth presses her smaller body over the length of his.
His bound hands reach up from resting on his chest to touch the side of her face. The look in his eyes is more open and relaxed than she has ever seen from him. She can't explain what it is about seeing him like this, but it makes her body ache for him. She feels the heat in her pelvis and can't stop her muscles from clenching in anticipation of him. All it takes is an awkward stretch for her to line them up. She memorizes the slight groan he makes at her touch before lowering herself down onto him.
Beth shifts against him, rotates her hips, feels every inch of him before setting a slow rhythm. She uses one hand to pull on his hip and encourage him to move with her while the other keeps his hands still on his chest. She notices then, that his eyes are still open, still on her. It's the first time he's been able to look at her, other than short glances, while they're having sex. She looks down and lets her body tighten around him, she's getting close.
"Beth…" His voice is strained and rough.
"Not yet." So is hers.
Daryl nods and pulls his lip into his mouth, keeping the pace she set.
She can feel how close he is, the way he feel just a little more swollen inside her, the way he's fighting to keep her rhythm.
She realizes he's holding back because she told him to.
Her orgasm hits her hard. Her body is pulsing and all the air is pushed out of her chest. She collapses on top of him, hardly feeling his still hard dick slide out of her. She's just starting to come down, to catch her breath...
"Beth. Please…" He moans through his teeth.
His breath is coming in harsh pants. Half of the time he exhales her name. He's opening and closing his fisted hands.
"Oh!" She reaches down and takes him, throbbing and still sex slick, in her hand. She slides her fist along his length once. "Okay, you can cum."
He thrusts up into her hand and lets her name take over the grunt that escapes his lips as he shoots all over his stomach.
It takes time for him regain some form of composure. Beth cleans her hand and him, Daryl's still shaking a bit, rubbing his face on his shoulder. He hasn't moved his hands from where she put them, still held together on his chest even though he's turned onto his side.
"Are you alright?"
"Gotta itch."
Beth sits next to him on the bed and gently scratches the side of his nose. He turns and kisses the palm of her hand. She moves to take the t-shirt off his wrists.
"Beth, wait."
She stills and lets her fingertips touch his.
"Mmm?"
"I wanna… it's easier like this…" He forces his mouth closed and pulls a a deep, steadying breath in through his nose. Daryl looks up from their semi-intertwined fingers and into her big blue eyes. "I love you."