AN: Here we are, another chapter here. One more to go in this short one.

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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The skin on Carol's neck was soft and it smelled sweet. To the taste, it was floral with a hint of bitterness—no doubt the effects of some lingering lotion or cream—but Daryl didn't find it unpleasant in the slightest. Given permission to indulge as much as he cared, Daryl did just that. Carol teased him, twisted her head this way and that, pulled away from him just to return and beg for another kiss with hungry lips. Daryl didn't keep track of the time they spent on the couch, grabbing and groping like teenagers, but he knew that it was a while because his lips stung from their efforts and he was breathing heavier than he maybe wanted to admit.

Finally, Carol pushed him back—off of her—hard enough that he backed up the rest of the way to try to read what might be wrong with her. She dabbed her fingertips against her lips, probably feeling the same sting that he was, and she glanced around her own living room like she was unfamiliar with the space.

"Go to bed," was all Carol got out as any kind of explanation. She was struggling to move from her position, at the moment, and Daryl made space for her to be able to sit back up from where he'd somehow worked her pretty far down into the corner of her own sofa. He offered her a hand as the only form of apology he could manage for the unintended stuffing of her body into her couch cushions. If she was bothered, she made no real indication to make it clear.

"You want me to go?" Daryl asked.

"If by go, you mean to the bed? Yes," Carol said. "I'm too old to do this here when I know I have a perfectly comfortable bed just down the hallway."

Daryl cleared his throat. He'd been pretty sure which way this was headed, but he still didn't like to assume things. After all, Carol could change her mind at any minute and say that she'd only had a heavy make-out session in mind—and that's all it would end up being.

"So you're—sure you wanna do this?" Daryl asked.

Carol laughed and her cheeks flooded red. She nodded at him, though, before she wrestled herself off the couch and then offered him a hand. When he didn't take it immediately, she wiggled her fingers at him and then held her hand out to him again.

"I'm sure," she said. "Daryl—I've been sure for a while. At least since the third night we walked together."

"How could you be sure all that time?" Daryl asked. "And not say nothing to me?"

He took her hand, though he really didn't need it to get up from the couch, and he followed her as she tugged him along.

"What would have had me to say, Daryl?" She asked, leading him down the hallway almost like a child. "I've thought about it and I'm hoping that sometime—preferably in the not so distant future—that you'll decide you'd like to have sex with me?"

Daryl laughed to himself at the combination of her words and their delivery.

"Well, yeah," he responded. "Hell—takes the guess work right outta things. I think you'd be surprised—I respond to that kinda thing. Don't have to worry if I'm making a mistake or reading things wrong. Just cut and dry. Lay it all out on the table."

Carol stopped walking and turned around to face Daryl. She rubbed his hand in hers. She met him and kissed him again.

"What were you reading?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow at him when she pulled away.

He chewed his lip, amused at her expression.

"First, I was just reading that we were friends—walking in the park," Daryl said. "That—you couldn't sleep. And I couldn't sleep. So we were keeping each other company." Carol nodded her head at him and hummed her agreement. "Then? I wondered if—there could be something else there. Or if it was just me maybe—maybe wanting something else. But maybe you weren't really feeling that way."

"And what are you reading now?" Carol asked, smirking a little.

"That that right there is probably the door to your bedroom," Daryl said. Carol nodded and sucked her teeth.

"It is," she agreed.

"And that we're probably going in there," Daryl said. Carol nodded again.

"We are," she said. "Unless you don't want to."

Daryl bit back his smile in favor of the feigned seriousness of the moment and reached around her. He caught the knob, turned it, and pushed the door so that it swung open.

"After you," he challenged.

Carol nodded her head as an acceptance of the challenge and she pulled him into the bedroom. She led him to the bed and she turned on a bedside lamp to give them more light to work with than just the glow from an electric alarm clock. The bedroom was much like the rest of the house—warm and inviting. It was comfortable and not lavishly decorated. Maybe, in some ways, Carol's "space" reminded Daryl of her Carol herself. She was comfortable. There wasn't anything false or put on there.

Daryl licked his lips.

"I'll be straight," he said. "Since that seems to be the topic of this whole evening. It's been a while."

Carol hummed.

"Four years? Five, for me?" Carol offered.

"At least that long for me," Daryl said, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Then we're in good company," Carol said. "I hear it's like riding a bicycle, though. You don't forget."

"Haven't done that in a while either," Daryl said. "And last time I did? Fell off and busted up my damn knee."

Carol laughed and brought her body against him. She wrapped her arms around him and he felt her fingertips dig into the muscles of his back. Just the determined touch was enough to remind him that—though it had been a while—certain parts of his body were more than eager to give it another go.

"We'll just make extra sure you don't fall off," Carol teased, nuzzling his neck before she kissed the skin there lightly and sucked it gently, sending a shiver running through Daryl that he was sure he passed to her. He pushed her back, against her bed, and she pushed back. She held a hand up to him, a silent request that he wait, and he did. She peeled back the blankets on the bed and rearranged the pillows, creating a veritable throne, and then she gestured. "After you," she teased, hearkening back to his earlier challenge. Daryl accepted and got onto the bed, and she followed after him, practically collapsing on top of him. He found the bottom of her nightgown and worked it up, his fingertips rubbing against the soft skin of her sides. She shivered and he felt it. She laughed quietly at herself. "That tickles," she breathed at him before she changed her position enough to help him work her out of the garment.

She hadn't bothered to put on much clothing before she'd answered the door. The simple cotton gown and a pair of equally simple cotton underwear was all that she was wearing. Daryl sucked in his lip the moment that she was revealed to him in the lamplight.

"That good or that bad?" She teased, her brow furrowing slightly. It was meant to be a joke, but it was a joke with a shred of truth—of real concern—behind it.

"Perfect," Daryl said as quickly as he could, hoping to erase the concern. Her face didn't change immediately, like she was taking her time to believe him, but she did somewhat nod at him.

"It's not fair," she said. "You're wearing so much—it's a lot more work for me."

Daryl snorted. It was true. He'd lost his shoes in the living room but everything else—right down to the loose change in his pockets and his car keys—was still on his person. This time he held a hand up to her as a request to wait and he left the bed long enough to simply shuck his clothes without pomp or circumstance. He wasn't much for putting on shows and, at this point, he didn't think it mattered all that much anyway. The end result was going to be the same.

"Try not to wallow too damn much in your disappointment," Daryl teased, returning to the bed. Carol didn't offer him the same words of encouragement that he'd offered her. Instead she pushed him back into the pillow nest that she'd built and she offered her encouragement with her hands, gliding them lightly over his body as she followed them and peppered his skin with kisses and short, damp laps from her tongue. He closed his eyes to it, not sure that he could recall any woman he'd been with before giving him such thorough attention—usually it was him that simply seemed expected to lead things. When Carol came back to nip at his lips, prompting him to open his eyes, she smiled at him before she removed her own cotton underwear. Then she took his hand in hers and placed it between her legs, coaxing him to pay attention to her—and he did. He rubbed his fingers over her nub and teased her with his fingertips. Just as he'd done, she closed her eyes to the sensations, but she moved her body—still hovering somewhat awkwardly over him—in response. "Guess you're not too disappointed," Daryl breathed out, feeling the sticky dampness on his fingers that told him she was at least interested by what was happening here.

She opened her eyes to him and turned her head, studying him a moment before she stroked him and he hissed at the feeling of her skin on his.

"Guess you're not either," she said, her voice rising at the end with the humor she couldn't quite contain.

"The only thing I got on me," Daryl said, feeling he might as well be honest, "is a condom that I'm pretty sure has been in my wallet for—oh—I'd say seven or eight years. I'm pretty sure air could get through that thing."

Carol bit her lip and turned her face, hiding her amusement for a second before she looked at him again.

"I don't have anything either," she said. "And—that could be a pretty big problem...except I went through menopause at least three years ago."

"Thank God for the little things?" Daryl responded.

Carol nodded.

"I'm clean," Daryl said.

"Didn't doubt it," Carol said bluntly. "But—I am too, for the record."

And, as demonstration that maybe she thought that was enough for them both—all bases covered—Carol changed from awkwardly hanging over him to straddling him, her real purpose for the earlier position revealed. Daryl arranged himself enough to find her breasts with his mouth and she gasped at him when he sucked at her nipple. He moved to the other, his hand teasing the damp one for a moment, and she paid him back for his teasing by dipping her body to rub herself against him. The movement sent a jolt through him and he stopped what he was doing. He shook his head at her.

"You do that too much? Show is gonna be over before it's gotten started," he warned.

Carol snorted at him.

"How long is intermission?" She asked. "Just for—reference?"

Daryl shook his head.

"Not sure," he said. "But I can promise you that you'll finish that popcorn."

"Point taken," Carol responded, leaning into him. She bumped her nose against his, playfully, and then she kissed him again. While she kissed him, she slid herself down onto him until he was fully seated inside her. Instinctively, he put his hands around her hips, holding her there loosely. He caught her gasp with the kiss and pulled away just enough to ask her if she was all right before she answered him by rocking her hips.

And then, instantly, in a relationship that had been built on conversation, there was nothing left to say. Not for either of them.

Maybe it wasn't exactly like riding a bicycle, but it was something that neither of them had forgotten. For just a moment they struggled against each other—neither quite certain how they fit together or how their movements might line up—but once they found their rhythm, they held to it. Daryl was almost certain that he was going to leave Carol hanging, knowing from the start that he simply wasn't prepared for this to last as long as he was going to want it to last, but she seemed to catch up to him quickly. Maybe she hadn't lied at all when she'd said she'd been thinking about it for some time now. Her short-shorn nails dug into his shoulders at the same time she clenched around him and Daryl pressed his fingers into her skin in response to the unexpected feeling of tightness coming in waves around him. It was enough to make him lose any resolve he had to hold on any longer and he let go. He was still sucking in air—regretting his almost life-long smoking habit—when Carol rolled next to him and peppered his jaw with soft kisses while she cupped his face. He ran a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp, before he finally turned toward her and allowed his lips to accept one of the kisses that she was offering.

"We're rusty," Carol teased, her voice sounding throatier than it had before.

Daryl hummed.

"Wobbly starting off," Daryl responded, a little ashamed that he wasn't entirely in control of his breathing yet. "But I ain't complaining."

"No," Carol said. "Mmm mmm...but..."

"There's a but?" Daryl asked with a snort.

"But...I think we could do better," Carol said. "With a little practice? There's some—real potential."

Daryl shifted his body, making himself more comfortable. He ran his fingertips gently over Carol's skin and felt the small bumps rise up on it after the trailing touch. She inched her body closer to his, and her foot rubbed against his calf.

"I got a little time," Daryl said. "So—if you had some ideas? I mean—I'd be willing to listen. If you got time, of course. And you ain't busy."

Carol looked at him through sleepy eyes, her eyelids visibly heavy. She rubbed her fingers against his face in exchange for the touches he left on her body.

"I've got plenty of time," she said. "And plenty of ideas."