Daryl had grabbed on to her hips. And was squirming under her. He wasn't saying no now. Actually, what he was saying was: "Move."

"Like…this?" she raised herself up carefully a few inches and sat back down. But that couldn't be right – she was going to squish him if she-

"Naw." It was hoarse. He gripped harder and she tried to follow where he was leading her – forward and back. It didn't make sense at first and she was sort of scooting along, until he shook his head again. "Not your legs – leave em. Just move your ass." He turned his face away suddenly, red, and corrected himself. "Uhm-… use your hips."

She tried not to laugh. "You can say ass to me, Daryl." She rolled her hips forward and back and listened to him hiss. "Like that?"

He made what appeared to be a yes-grunt, so she did it again. Kept on. Let the pull of his hands guide her, and found a rhythm – rubbing against him.

It actually felt kind of good. Not as good as him touching her the other day, obviously, but...

She was more than happy to keep going. Eventually though, he looked up at her and said: "I'm goin to Hell for this."

She thought he was kidding, but just in case, she put her hand on his cheek. "Oh, stop."

"Shit." His hips moved under her, pressing up. Even through shorts and the blanket, she could feel what to aim for.

"I can feel your-…" She wanted to say something nasty but at the last second she chickened out.

It didn't seem to matter. Daryl mixed together some prayer words and some swear words, and arched hard.

She helped grind a little bit longer, but the force was starting to concern her. "You sure I'm not squishing it? Not hurting you?"

"Jesus, Beth." He turned to mouth against her hand – almost like kissing. "Nuh-uh, you're fine. Perfect."

She had to giggle. "Okay..." she said, dripping doubt. Perfect? She had no idea what she was doing. Or even what you were supposed to do.

It struck her suddenly: he did. "Do you want to be on top?" she offered.

Then he was sitting up, lifting her off, and for a minute she thought she'd made him mad somehow.

But then she realized he was flipping her, flipping her over, and she oofed when she hit the mattress but it didn't actually hurt – his hand was cushioning behind her head.

She went to move but she was all tangled – the blanket was still between them. "Want me to…?" she squirmed and kicked.

"Naw. I got it," he panted as he struggled with the covers himself. "There."

He'd got her legs free at least, but the blanket was still between them – all bunched up between her hips and his. Seemed to sort of defeat the purpose in her view, but she supposed Daryl knew better after all.

Then he reached down and scooped up her thigh. It made her gasp – his hand felt big and warm on her and she didn't want him to let go, but he settled her leg up around his waist and then leaned down over her. Now he was making eye contact all right.

She shifted and put the other leg up too. He slid one arm underneath her shoulder, and gripped on by her neck. The other hand went to her thigh again (wonderful!).

Then he was moving, on her and thrusting. There was a lot of cloth between them and they weren't technically doing it, but it was the closest to sex she'd ever gotten and it felt pretty damn close.

She wanted to… but she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. Just lie here? Say yes and ooh like porn star noises?

He let go of her leg after a bit and took one of her hands instead. He laced their fingers together and held it down to the bed.

There wasn't a lot of weight on it but it was enough to pin her, remind her how strong he was and she definitely liked that. She pulled down on his neck with her other hand, meaning to kiss him, but at the last second he ducked aside.

"Please tell me I ain't your first kiss," he said.

She liked his voice all rough and breathless like this. "You haven't kissed me at all, Daryl," she pointed out, "But don't worry – if you did you wouldn't be the first." With his face turned, his neck was right in front of her, so she arched for it and sucked on it hard. Swirled on it with her tongue. (Show him that she knew how to do something!) He cursed and squeezed her hand and moved harder.

"What should I do?" she whispered in his ear. "What do you want? I mean it – tell me."

"Shit. Okay-," he gasped, breathy. "Move."

That wasn't much instruction, but it was the same thing he'd said before, so she could try that. "Like... this?" She curled her hips up against him and he seemed to like it… but she wanted to make him talk again. "Does that feel good?" She sucked at his neck again while waiting for an answer.

"Yeah. Shit- God yeah, yeah it's-. God, shit."

(They were going to have to have words later: God would probably not find this very polite.)

After a bit she got the hang of timing her movements to his, and that was better. They were speeding up. In sync. She hugged him closer. She slid her hands over his back, feeling the muscles work.

When she got to the waistband of his boxers he made a noise. Hm.

She went in. The steady pistoning of his hips stuttered, and the rhythm was all shot to hell as he started shoving against her so hard the bed creaked.

"Yeah," he gasped. "Yeah hard."

Hard what? Grab hard? She tried that, with both hands, and then remembered that people talked about nails and scratching too. It wouldn't surprise her at all if Daryl was someone who liked it rough. So, she dug in.

Almost instantly his whole body convulsed. "Yeah yeah yeah yeah, fuck shit uh-huh yeah-." Et cetera. It had to hurt, but she didn't stop; it was apparently working for him. Like… really working. He was finishing. And babbling like crazy. She didn't let herself giggle out loud.

Afterwards though, when Daryl was sprawled out flat on his back (in new boxers) playing dead, she couldn't resist teasing: "You know, you're a lot more talkative when you're… you know."

He covered his head with a pillow and muttered something into it. "What was that?" She wrestled the pillow away. "Daryl? What'd you say?"

He sighed at her and reached up to tuck a stray curl off her face. "Said I am definitely goin to Hell for this."

"You are not," she protested. Then smiled. "But if you are… was it worth it?"

He laughed. Didn't say no.

The next day Daryl went out alone to kill some meat. He came back, for the first time ever, empty-handed.

"What's wrong?" she said.

He was bouncing around restlessly. "Grab your shit – we're goin."

She got up right away to start packing up food. "Why?"

"Found tracks. First I thought it was a walker and a kid. Kid's no walker, too coordinated, but the other one's draggin bad. But then I saw the kid's not runnin or fightin. So I'm thinkin the second one's not a walker, just a dude with a limp. I looked closer, and... the prints are kinda shitty, but ... I used to know the footprints of everybody in our group."

"And?"

"Rick. Think it coulda been Rick and Carl."

She tried to think straight. "How long ago...? Had to be after the rain-... We can catch them!"

"Specially if Rick's hurt." He started packing too. "Damn, though. Hate to leave this place."

"I thought you didn't like the houses."

He shrugged. "Guess I'm gettin used to it," he said.

"Wonder why."

He banged a cabinet closed with more force than necessary. "Hey. No more of that shit, huh? What'd I tell you?"

She had enough nerve, at least, to bite her lip and say: "You told me... to move my hips."

"Jesus!"

She refused to cower. "Come on. I'm just teasin."

"Yeah well, don't," he said – calmer, at least. "I shouldn't'a done that. I'm sorry. Rick'll have my balls if he knows I was messin with you."

She knew he was right. But it wasn't fair! "We barely messed at all!"

He shrugged. "From now on it's hands off, okay?"

What choice did she have? "Yes Mr. Dixon."

He snorted... and swatted her on her behind when she turned to flounce off.

"Hey!" Her turn to act indignant. "You said hands off!"

And his turn for a saucy shrug. "Meant once we leave the house."

Oh, really? She grinned. He said uhoh and backed away but not in time; she threw herself at him, giggling.

He was laughing too, trying to stop her hands from worming up under his shirt. She fought harder and harder, and finally stooped to the dirty trick of tickling him, at which point he yelped and turned her around to hold her from behind.

One of his arms was enough to pin both of hers to her sides. "Now you asked for it," he growled, and she giggled shit shit shit until he started tickling her – really tickling her, at which point she started to squeal. So he covered her mouth up (muttering "You want the damn walkers in on this party?"), which at least left him a hand short for tickling.

But he bent her over the table and held her down with his own weight instead – and now she was more helpless than ever. She fought and shrieked laughter into his hand.

"You are outmatched, little lady."

Indeed she was. She still struggled though, because if she stopped he might let go of her.

"Migh's well give up," he said. "I've definitely been wrestlin since before you was born." She believed it. He was a champion roughhouser; he hadn't hurt her but she couldn't move an inch. "Though Merle was a hell of a lot less friendly."

She laughed – and it came out all throaty and muffled. Like a sex noise.

That distracted her, and she stopped fighting. For a minute they just lay still, catching their breath, and then he sighed against her ear. "I think we got the hands off thing pretty ass-backwards too."

They separated, stood up, fixed their hair and clothes. When they were presentable again she smiled at him. "No. I think we got everything just right." She came close, slow and calm, and though he looked wary he didn't try to stop her. She reached for his shoulders and stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. "From now on I'll lay off – promise. But if you ever change your mind, just let me know, because I really-..." She paused a second and made sure not to say anything he'd mind. "I had a good time."

She waited. Daryl wasn't a big talker but surely he would say something to that?

It was silent for a while. He was looking square in her eyes. Finally he said: "Kay." And put his hand behind her neck, leaned down and dropped a quick dry kiss on her lips.

The End.

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