Maggie caught up with Daryl as he came walking out of the showers. Dressed in a too tight t shirt, semi-clean jeans, he rubbed a towel over his head.
"You use actual soap?" she teased.
"What is with you, woman?"
"Do I need to take you back in there and hold you under the spray and do it myself?"
"If that will make you feel better."
She smiled at him, kissing him softly. "And you brushed your teeth?" she asked.
"Mouthwash," he confessed kissing her again, the tip of his tongue sliding over her bottom lip.
"What's the special occasion?"
He smirked at her, tossing the towel over his shoulder before grabbing her ass, yanking her hard against him. Maggie rested her hands on his shoulders, trying to not smile up at him as he leaned down to kiss her again. "I can go back to stinkin'," he threatened.
"You were to the point that even Piper didn't want anything to do with you," she admitted with a wrinkled nose.
He grabbed her ass hard, making her yelp. His mouth sealed over hers. Slowly he walked her backwards until she was up against a wall. Lifting her, he encouraged her legs around his waist, her ankles locking just above his ass. Maggie's hand tangled in his hair as his tongue continued to plunder her mouth. One large powerful hand rested against the cold cement next to her head, the other reached under the hem of her shirt, his fingers sliding softly over her skin, making her tremble against him. Just the merest touch from this man turned her into a quivering mess.
Daryl laid a series of soft kisses against her cheek, along her jaw. His mouth dipped into her neck. Maggie turned her head giving him full access to her skin. Pushing her shoulders back against the wall she loosened her legs just enough to drop her already warm center against the front of his jeans.
Daryl growled in her ear, and pressed her tighter against the wall. "Careful sweetheart."
"Careful of what?" she asked teasingly,, her tongue sliding around the shell of his ear. Daryl gasped, as his hand found her breast. Cupping it gently, he plucked at her hardened nipple with his thumb and a finger. He rolled it over the calluses on his hand, making Maggie groan and pull him closer to her.
Her mouth sought out his and she kissed him hard, a kiss full of need, want and desire. It had been entirely too long since they had managed to find time alone. Way too long. With him still sleeping on his stupid perch, and she sleeping in a cell with Piper, it made things even harder.
"Damnit! I fucking need you," he swore, tearing his mouth from hers.
Her brain turned into mush as his rough hand pulled at her soft flesh, teasing, tormenting. "Yep, " Maggie whispered, her eyes unfocused and glazed as she looked up at him in the dark corner of the prison where they found themselves.
"Here?" he asked, trying hard to keep the pleading out of his voice. She wasn't the only one who was displeased with their sleeping arrangement.
"Here?" she asked, half-disbelieving, half-questioning if it was a good idea.
"Got another idea?" he asked.
Maggie snorted. "Oh I don't know. Most folks think beds are the way to go."
"In the middle of the day? You wanna go to your cell?"
"In the middle of the day? You wanna do it against a wall by the bathrooms?" Maggie pushed at his chest, unlocking her ankles from behind him. She dropped her feet back to the floor, arms still around his shoulders.
"Whut? That it?" he all but whined.
Maggie smiled widely at him before laying a kiss on his cheek. "Go grab a chair from the common area, and I will meet you on the back side of the prison in five minutes."
"A chair?" He looked at her like she was crazy. Maybe she just was.
Maggie pushed at him again and stepped out of his embrace. "Yes, a chair. I need to go check on Piper and see if Beth or Carol can listen for her. And I will meet you out there. Bring your towel."
Daryl had no idea what she was up to, but hell if he was gonna argue. Sliding the palm of his hand over the front of his pants, he curled his fingers over the bottom of the fly and pulled, trying to make a little more room as he watched Maggie walk towards the cells. He stood there watching those hips sway slightly, knowing she wasn't intentionally teasing him but hell if she wasn't the hottest thing he had gotten his hands on... ever.
He did as his woman asked of him and he grabbed one of the common area chairs and hauled it out to the general area she asked him to. He stuck it back in a shadowy alcove and sat down and waited. He didn't have to wait long before she came around the corner a comb and a pair of scissors in her hands.
Daryl groaned. "I came out here for a piece of ass, not a haircut, baby."
"You aren't getting one without the other," she told him, hand on her hip.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "What about just head? What'll that cost me?"
Maggie yanked the towel from over his shoulder and put it around his neck. "Just be a good boy and sit still." She moved behind him, and started to comb out the tangles. She stopped combing and Daryl heard a soft noise behind him. He turned his head to see what she's doing but Maggie redirected his face back forward. "Eyes front."
Daryl scowled and tried to look back again. "Eyes front," she said, a little more forceful.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"Cutting your hair."
"Don't you need to touch my hair to do that?" he asked. She patted his shoulder and he looked at her hand to see a black lace bra sitting under her palm. Yanking it from his shoulder, he turned again, his whole body turning. "Eyes front!" Maggie put a hand on either cheek and pushed his face forward. Once he relaxed, she went back to combing his hair.
Maggie took her time cutting his hair, snip, comb, snip, comb. He felt her brush something soft against his neck, and was surprised when she laid her t shirt in his lap. "Hang onto that for me, would you?" she asked. Daryl put his hand on top of it, keeping the dark blue cloth there as she continued to cut. Gently she ran her hand through his hair, her nails running along his scalp. His eyes closed as the slight sensation shot straight for his groin. Maggie went back to cut, comb, cut. After a few minutes, he felt her lean her breasts against his shoulder, her hard nipples rubbing against his neck. He saw her hand reach over his shoulder, and head for his crotch. Brushing two fingers briefly over his fly, Maggie snagged up her t shirt.
"Thanks," she said, standing, pulling herself away from him.
Daryl groaned as she started brushing hair off of his neck again. When she was done she handed the shirt back to him and he set it in his lap, maybe a little bit closer to his cock than it was before.
It was another few minutes of tortuous torture before Maggie moved to his side. Daryl turned to look at her, and was not terribly surprised when she laid one finger on his cheek, making him look forward. He reached a hand out for her, and she slapped it away with the broad side of the comb. "Stop it. If you aren't a good boy, you don't get your treat at the end."
With a warning growl, he dropped his hands back to his lap and tried to stare at the fence in front of him. But his eye kept drifting to the side, watching her cut his hair, without a shirt or bra on. Although his eyes were focused on her breasts, he could see the smirk firmly on her face. She slowly, deliberately, leaned over him, brushing her breasts against his arm as she reached for the t shirt. He was a little faster than she was and he pulled it from his lap and held it out with his opposite hand out of her reach. "What do I get for it?" he asked. Two could play this game.
"What do you want?"
"I want you in my lap."
"That ain't happening til your hair is done. So what else do you want?" Maggie leaned in and placed the tip of her nose in his ear before nipping at his earlobe. "Is there something else I can do?"
Daryl's eyes closed and he groaned as he handed her the shirt. "That'll do," he admitted. Maggie grinned and stood up to brush the hair from the side of his neck. When she was done, she laid a soft kiss on his jugular followed by a quick nip. "Bitch."
She laughed softly as she walked to his other side. Comb, snip, comb, snip. She didn't even ask when she needed the shirt, she just leaned over and softly kissed him behind that ear. She was handed the shirt, which she used to quickly clean him off.
Maggie came to stand in front of him. Daryl opened his legs, and she stood at the chair's edge, her hands reaching for his hair. This however put her breasts right in his face. "Stay," she corrected as he started to lean forward. She emphasized it with a tug on a strand of his hair as he did not heed her warning. "Do you want to have any hair left?" she asked.
He groaned but reached his hands out to cup her soft hips. Maggie closed her eyes as the warmth of his skin against hers sent shivers through her body. He noticed this and curled a finger on each hand under the waistband of her jeans, stroking the soft skin on the front of her pelvis.
"Jesus," she swore. "You may want to stop that," she advised. Daryl didn't listen and slipped his fingers forward, his digits reaching for the front button on her jeans. Maggie curled one hand around his shoulder as the other rested on the side of his head. She practically crawled in his lap as he pushed her jeans down, letting them pool at her knees, leaving her standing in a pair of sheer black panties he wasn't entirely sure he had seen on her before.
His finger ran under the front elastic along her legs. "Oh fuck me," she growled.
"I'd love to."
Maggie grabbed his hand as he reached to push his fingers under the crotch of her panties, pushing them to the side. "No." Her fingers tightened around his wrist as she stepped back from him. She moved just out of his reach, which took a little longer than normal with her jeans slowly sliding down her thighs, passed her knees, down to her ankles. Maggie released his hand and stepped out of her jeans, leaving them pooled in the grass where she stood.
Watching Maggie stand in the hot Georgia sun in nothing but a pair of black panties, he could not help himself. Daryl rose from the chair, stepping toward her.
Maggie pointed the end of the scissors at his belly, stopping him short. "Back in the chair."
When he opened his mouth to protest, Maggie shot him a hard look. "Do you want to look like a Beatle reject?" she glanced up at his hair. "Then sit your ass back down."
"But-" Daryl stood with his arms still out and watched as she wiggled her way between them. Grabbing the back of his head with her free time, she yanked his mouth down to hers, kissing him hard. Her lips, tongue and teeth slid over his, making his arms tighten around her. Maggie rose on her toes, pressing her chest and hips up against him, leaning so that her body ran flush against his.
Pulling back, she gasped for breath before pushing at his shoulder. "Sit down," she whispered harshly.
Daryl reluctantly sat back down, and watched her come back toward him. She stood on one side and began to comb his mostly dry hair out. She combed for a few moments, slowly, meticulously. After a good two minutes she sighed deeply.
"Jerkface. When were you going to tell you I already did that side?"
Daryl yanked on the front of his pants and wiggled in his chair. "I didn't even notice," he admitted watching her come to stand in front of him.
Maggie looked down at him and bit her bottom lip. "Sit on your hands."
"What?"
"Sit on your hands, please?" she asked. "Look the sooner I finish this butcher of a haircut the sooner you can fuck me brainless."
Daryl's blue eyes bored deep into her green ones as he tucked his hands under his thighs. "All you had ta do was ask nice." He grinned, leaning forward to place a quick peck on one tightened nipple, briefly pausing her hands.
"Don't suppose you can sit on your face too?"
"That's your job,"
Maggie colored at that comment. "C'mon baby. 5 more minutes, and you'll be handsome again and between my thighs."
Daryl sat up, hands still under his thighs. "Yes, ma'am."
She finished up, and once she was pleased with her work, she stepped back, walking around him once, to see if there was anything more that needed to be done. She stepped further back, and dropped the scissors and comb on top of her jeans. Daryl sat motionless as she hooked her fingers under the waistband of her panties and slid them from her hips, bending fully at the waist until they were at her ankles. She simply stepped out of them, walking towards him.
"Good boy," she muttered as she placed her hands in his upturned palms. Their mouths met, hard, teeth almost colliding as she settled across his thighs.
Daryl let go of her hands and wrapped them around her back, pulling her tighter against him. Every sensation of his clothes against her naked skin sent electricity through Maggie. One hand fisted in his hair, the other clutched at the back of the chair, trying to keep her in his lap as he bucked under her.
"Too many clothes," he gasped, yanking at his shirt as she started to work on his belt buckle. In no time, Daryl's jeans were around his ankles and he lifted Maggie's hips, guiding her over his impatient cock. They both moaned loudly; Maggie was so very wet, he slid in fully on the first thrust.
"Oh my god," she gasped in his shoulder as he groaned in her hair. Daryl wrapped one arm around her back, his hand hooking around the opposite shoulder, anchoring her to him, as he roughly thrust up in time with her shallow movements. Settling her feet flat on the ground, not her toes, Maggie took over control and quickly saw sparks fly behind her eyelid as she leaned back, fingers latched onto his shoulders.
"Oh fucking shit," Daryl growled as he felt her tighten around him. Another two thrusts and Maggie cried out, her whole body quaking against him. He picked up where her limp body quit and began thrusting harder up into her. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, but it wasn't enough for him. Without dislodging her, Daryl stood and moved them to the ground, her back against the soft grass. In her haze, Maggie moved her legs around his hips, her hands gliding over his sweaty skin. She let him fuck her into the ground with all of his might, aware that she was probably going to have grass stain across her back for a few days, but couldn't find it in her to care at the moment, as he crashed into her again and again.
His thrusts suddenly turned jagged and stuttering. The hot gasps against her neck turned shallower, and Maggie pulled him closer to her as he growled against her skin, his hips stuttering against hers. She held him there as his heart pounded hard against her chest, his puffs for air stirred her hairs. She ran on hand through his sweaty shorter hair, the other over his back.
"Think you might need another shower," she admitted softly.