Please enjoy this dose of Bethyl smut to warm your cockles this Xmas season!
"Mrs. Dixon," he tested, enjoying the little moan that escaped her and the way her breath caught in her throat.
"I like how that sounds," she murmured, her fingers twisting in his hair and pulling his mouth down to meet hers hungrily. She squealed when she felt his hands run down to her backside before lifting her easily, her legs wrapping automatically around his hips.
"Mrs. Elizabeth Anne Dixon," he continued, his mind suddenly elsewhere. Because it didn't matter that he'd already made love to her that morning. He was filled with the burning flames that far surpassed desire. He needed her. Needed to be inside her. They had spent too much time apart, and he couldn't breathe until they were one again.
He was suddenly thankful that Grace was passed out on the couch, Maggie was counting tinned goods and Glenn was gathering firewood because he was about to fuck the future Mrs. Dixon against the closest surface he could find – be it horizontal or vertical.
"I need you, Daryl. Please," she fucking whimpered in his ear, like she was begging for it, her hands already busy with the hem of her shirt and it was a goddamn miracle that Daryl found the bottom of the narrow staircase. Her shirt was off by the time they reached the upstairs landing, and he was having a hard time recalling which door led to a bedroom, because all he could focus on was Beth's bare torso directly in front of his face and her soft warm breasts scorching through the material of his flannel.
He needed to free his hands so he could squeeze those two perfectly rounded mounds, but to do so meant he would need to set her down. He let out a grunt of relief as he barged through their bedroom door, heading for the writing desk by the bed that he had sat on whilst she cried on their first night in this house. That was a shitty memory, and it was about time to re-christen that desk in celebration of their upcoming nuptials.
The spare bolts and a few empty water bottles crashed to the floor as Daryl cleared the desk with a single swipe so he could deposit Beth upon it. If she was confused about the chosen location, she hid it well, and her fingers immediately went to work on his belt buckle, yanking his jeans down just enough for her hot little fingers to wrap around his rapidly stiffening erection.
Sweet mother of God. He looked down at her, his mind fumbling for something romantic or loving to whisper to her, but his jaw snapped shut when she pulled him in, that tiny perfect tongue licking from base to tip, flicking and fluttering along his length until he wanted to just melt into a puddle of satisfaction on their bedroom floor. Those lips that he loved, that whispered sweet nothings to Sophia, and sang beautiful melodious lullabies were now wrapped firmly around his cock whilst her blue eyes seared into his.
She liked to watch him. She liked watching the expression on his face that occurred when parts of him were inside parts of her. For all of his toughened exterior, he looked nothing short of a man hopelessly in love as he fought a waging battle to thrust into the wet heat of her mouth.
Something must have shaken Daryl from his stupor when his hand gripped her shoulder, pushing her back just enough for his cock to pop free from her mouth. She never ceased her strokes, her small hand sliding easily against his skin with the slick from her own saliva. She stared silently yet sweetly up at him, awaiting instruction.
"Condom," he managed to choke out, amazed by the speed at which she retrieved the foil package from the drawer that was situated appropriately between her legs. She rolled it over his length so painfully slow that his teeth gritted in displeasure. He busied his mind by unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down her hips violently, hearing her gasp of annoyance as the button was ripped off and flew into a shadowed corner of the room.
He silenced her irritation with a bruising kiss, making her feel the passion and brutality with which he wanted her. His forearms wrapped under her thighs, lifting them high enough to wrap around his waist. Her torso slumped backwards against the top of the desk, lips pouting and bright red from their kisses.
He paused for a moment before sliding into her body, because he truly lived for the moments like these. When Beth was breathless, and speechless (which was an incredibly rare occurrence). When she was gasping for air, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip as she gazed up at him. She was waiting for him to make the next move, because his firm grasp on her legs made her own maneuvering next to impossible. She was spread open, willing, wanting, waiting for him.
"Love you," he grumbled, watching the flicker of light dash across her eyes at his declaration. Of course, she already knew this. But that didn't make the phrase any less true, or any less sweet.
"Show me," she breathed, so quietly he sensed rather than heard her response. Her sigh turned quickly into a muffled groan as he thrust home into the warm cocoon of her body. Nothing could ever be as perfect as this. That initial sensation that wormed up his spine as he sank into her body, the second of surprise he glimpsed in her eyes. Her body was perfectly accustomed to his, and yet with every inch he drove into her, he elicited a cry of pleasure.
He could feel the tips of her fingernails digging precariously into his biceps as he rocked against her, into her. His mouth dropped to cover hers at each moan and each cry. His beautiful angel. The woman he was going to marry.
His arms pulled her bottom closer to the edge of the desk so that he could fuck her deeper, like she wanted him to. Her back was arching, and her mouth open, unable to contain the sounds. He wished his hands were free so he could just fucking hold her against him, to feel her softness and her warmth against the hard planes of his own body. To keep her together as she figuratively fell apart beneath him.
Her voice was hot and heavy in his ear, pleading with him for more. More speed. More friction. Whatever she wanted, he was bound to give to her. He could feel her hands slipping down his arms to intertwine their fingers momentarily, her own hands dwarfed in comparison to his. He loved her like this. He loved it when she rolled her hips against his, meeting each trust with perfect rhythm. He loved the flush that spread from her cheeks down her neck to color her breasts. He loved watching the muscles of her taught abdomen pulsing with each pleasurable contraction of her body around his.
He loved her, and everything she did reminded him why. From her smiles to the tinkling bells of her laughter, to the high-pitched keening yelp that escaped her when she came, the flickering of her eyelids and the teeth that gnawed so tightly upon her bottom lip he was afraid she would break the skin. Everything she did was a welcomed reminder of how they had gotten to this point.
Daryl's jaw clenched as he buried himself balls deep into her warmth and let his own orgasm wash over him. The hard wired muscles in her legs twitched under his palms in satiation and fatigue as she waited for her lover to come down from his high.
"I love you, too," she whispered gently as he pitched forward to cover her body with his. His face was buried in the warm, salty crook of her neck. He was close enough to hear her grumble of disapproval when he withdrew from her body, her legs tightening around his hips in an effort to keep him there. He was safe – like always – in the warmth and certainty of her embrace.
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