Hi again : ) I'm glad to be back! This request comes from Yogapantsinpublic who wanted Daryl and Carol bunking in the same cell. She thought it would be fun to see them engaging in a little…self-love ; ) Well, as tends to be the case with these two…one thing leads to another and…you'll just have to wait and see! This is a one-shot and is not connected to the haircut mini-series. Cigarettes and cold showers; keep them handy…you've been warned ; ) let's get naughty!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead…but maybe someday…

Chapter 7. Favors

Daryl groaned when he felt her slide down his cock. The warm, wet, pressure was so welcome and he grabbed her hips, holding on tight as he bucked up into her heat. She cried out, clawing his chest and grinding her pelvis down against his. They didn't waste time…and they didn't fight it. This was about pleasure…release, and Daryl wanted as much as she could give him. So they moved faster, rocking against one another, moaning…panting each other's names as sweat broke out all over their bodies. He was deep in her pussy and she kept riding him, urging him to come. "That's it…" she breathed. "Like that…"

He managed a nod and continued to force himself up into her center.

"Come on…" she moaned.

"I'm tryin…" he growled.

"Try harder…I'm almost there…" she pleaded.

"Fuck…" he gasped, feeling her clench around him. "I'm gonna come…"

"Do it." she whispered, bending over him to kiss his neck and suck at the tender flesh. "I wanna feel it."

But Daryl was scared…he didn't want to disappoint her. His swollen cock was aching for release inside her and everything she did seemed to heighten his pleasure. Her hips were moving faster, creating incredible friction.

"You're so hard…" she moaned, her legs pressing in on either side of his body.

"Christ…" he breathed. "I….I…"

"Do it." she urged, her blue eyes trained on his face. "Just let go…"

His sweaty hands went to her breasts and he squeezed hard, making her cry out. Her walls tightened around him and he could feel himself nearing the edge. "I'm…." he tried to speak but couldn't. Using his grip on her breasts for leverage, he bucked hard underneath her, pushing his manhood up into her sex. "I'm gonna…"

"I know…" she moaned, grinding on top of him. "I want you to. Please…just let go Daryl…let go…"

He was panting, his heart pounding against his ribs… With his head swimming and his muscles tensing, he thrust up into her heat. His hips were jerking wildly as he sought release…he was so close and she was so wet… She wouldn't let up. She was working him, lifting her hips and then sliding back down his shaft…her walls opening for him again, and again… "Fuckin' Christ…I can't…I can't…" he groaned.

"You can ." she breathed, her insides hugging him, clinging to him… "I know you can. You want it… You wanna come, so do it." She clawed his chest again.

He was bucking faster and faster as his member continued to grow harder inside her. "So fuckin' tight…" he nearly whined.

"And you're so big…" she moaned. "I wanna feel you come. Now…" she pleaded. "Do it now." She bit her bottom lip and rocked her hips, fucking him as hard as she could.

Daryl's eyes were half open…he was in a daze and all that mattered was the incredible suction between their bodies. She was moving faster, breathing harder and he couldn't take the way her pussy continued to tighten. Losing himself, the hunter gave her a strong, desperate, thrust, pushing his hard-on deep into her core. He could feel himself slipping through her sex, rubbing her walls and hitting the top of her. The sensation of penetrating her heat and finding the wetness that waited for him was too much and he finally gave in.

She was panting above him, her hips rocking relentlessly as she rode his cock. "That's it!" she cried, her pussy squeezing him as his shaft grew completely rigid inside her.

A string of curses flew from Daryl's lips as his orgasm rushed forward, spilling from his throbbing cock. He was dimly aware of his semen shooting up into her core, filling her…and he continued to buck, letting himself go. She was still riding him, her insides stroking his member, milking it until he had to beg her to stop. His eyes closed and his hands fell away from her breasts. He could feel the sweat beginning to dry on his skin as he waited for his heart rate to slow. His chest was heaving as he lay on the bunk, his member still buried between her legs, as he savored his climax. It was everything he needed…her wet pussy wrapped around him… All of his tension had disappeared and he lay blissful, reveling in his own selfish satisfaction…

When Daryl felt himself come, he sat up quickly, hitting his head on the bunk above him. "Jesus!" He hissed, rubbing the now aching spot on his head. It took a moment for him to get his bearings. His breathing was ragged and he was covered in sweat…his legs tangled in the thin, white sheet that covered his bunk. The pounding of his heart gradually began to subside and he swallowed hard, remembering where he was. He was in Carol's cell, and judging by the surrounding darkness…it was the middle of the night.

Sighing, and running his hands through his tangled hair, Daryl forced himself to accept the fact that he'd been dreaming…again. "Lord…" he muttered. His erection was dying and he could feel the sticky evidence of his climax on his lower belly. He huffed, disgusted with himself, and leaned over the side of the bunk. Fumbling in the dark, he reached under the bunk and pulled out a rag he'd hidden there several nights ago. As he cleaned himself off, the best he could, the hunter realized that the dreams were becoming problematic. He couldn't keep doing this.

Ya best get all that shit outta your head.

Daryl grunted, returning the rag to its hiding place and flopping back down on the thin mattress. Tonight marked the fourth time that he'd been roused from sleep by dreams that made his heart race. As he lay there, staring at the bunk above him, he tried to decide what was worse… Waking up before he hit his peak and then suffering with an erection until he couldn't take it anymore and had to relieve the pain as quietly as possible…or waking up after he came and then dealing with the mess and the shame that accompanied his climax… He ran a hand over his face and sighed. He didn't know why any of this was happening…well, that wasn't entirely true; he had an idea…

The survivors recently opened the prison gates to quite a few Woodbury refugees. Men, women and children poured into the building, with luggage in tow…and the once spacious shelter seemed to become crowded overnight. He'd been driven from his perch when everyone was asked to make room for the new arrivals. The survivors quickly doubled up and Daryl hardly had time to process what was happening before Carol stood in front of him, telling him he could bunk with her. He'd been dumbfounded…unsure of what to do or say, and the next thing he knew, she was moving past him, carrying his things to her cell. It didn't seem to bother her. She'd acted as if it were the most natural thing in the world, even giving him his pick of the bunks. He vaguely remembered nodding and gesturing to the bottom bunk and then it was over. The perch was clear, his things were stacked neatly in a corner of her cell, and he found himself displaced…relocated, and with a brand new roommate. Daryl was sure he hadn't even been able to utter a single word of opposition. The whole thing must've taken all of ten minutes and Rick and Carol seemed to agree that the arrangement would work. He remembered standing out on the walkway, with parted lips, scratching at the back of his head as he tried to determine what the hell happened.

He supposed, all things considered, that the new living arrangement wasn't terrible. Carol knew him well enough to know that he needed space, and a little time to adjust. So on their first night, she'd taken a late watch shift, letting him have the cell to himself. He knew why she did it, and he was grateful, but neither of them acknowledged it directly. She simply slung her rifle onto her shoulder and glanced back at the hunter, giving him a soft smile before leaving. He answered with a nod and watched as she pushed the hanging sheet aside and walked away. Daryl felt awkward…anxious about sleeping in a cage…and someone else's cage at that. She knew that he preferred isolation, and that he valued his privacy, so she left him there, to his own devices, hoping it would make the transition easier. And it had. He rose from the bunk after she left and worked to organize his belongings. Once he'd arranged his things, and tossed the poncho on his bunk to mark his territory, Daryl felt just a little bit better about the whole thing. He figured if he had to share with someone…he could do worse than Carol. So, while she was gone on her watch shift, he pulled off his boots, shrugged off his vest, and eased onto the bottom bunk. He closed his eyes, willing himself to relax after he pulled the sheet over his body. Enjoying the peace and quiet, along with the privacy she'd given him, the hunter fidgeted to get comfortable and finally let himself fall asleep. Little did he know that the scent from the pillow would find its way into his dreams.

That first night, Daryl didn't dream of anything in particular…at least nothing that he could recall in vivid detail. There were blurred images…familiar voices… The only thing that truly stood out was a sense of comfort. Daryl didn't often remember his dreams and when he did, they were usually tragic…frightening…things he wished he could forget. But that first night in Carol's cell, he felt strangely welcome…comfortable. He wasn't sure what had taken place in his dream but by the time he woke, sunlight was streaming into the cellblock and he quickly realized he'd overslept. Granted, sleeping on the bunk had definitely proven preferable to curling up on the perch, but Daryl sensed that something else helped him rest. When he woke up and his eyes eased open, the first thing he noticed was a familiar scent. He inhaled, slowly, trying to puzzle it out. It only took him a few seconds to realize that it was the pillow…it smelled like her…like her hair. He tensed, realizing that she must've been using the bottom bunk all this time. A pang of guilt was suddenly stabbing at his consciousness. He'd taken her bunk. Sitting up slowly, he grabbed the white sheet that was draped over him and brought it to his face. He smelled the fabric and found that it carried the same scent. The hunter sighed, feeling like an ass for taking her space. But just as feelings of doubt and frustration began to get to him, he heard someone knocking at the bars, just beyond the privacy sheet. "You up?" Carol called to him.

He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. "Yeah." he answered, his voice thick with sleep.

"Mind If I come in?" she asked.

Daryl was in awe of the fact that she was asking permission to enter her own cell. "I'm good. C'mon." he said, yawning.

She pushed the sheet aside and smiled when she saw him. He was sitting up, on the bottom bunk, his shirt thoroughly wrinkled and his hair a mess. "Sleep okay?" she asked, slinging the rifle off her shoulder and setting it on a small end table that was pushed against the far wall.

He grunted, running his hands over his face as he struggled to fully wake up.

"I'll take that as a yes." she chuckled, pulling off the light jacket she always wore.

Daryl yawned again and glanced at her. She was sitting on the floor, fumbling to get her boots off. When she was done, she stood up, rubbing her lower back and then moved to climb up to her bunk. Guilt was creeping into the hunter's mind again. "Hey," he called to her.

She paused, her hands gripping the ladder that lead to the top bunk. "What is it?" she asked.

He cleared his throat, trying to summon the right words. "Sure you're okay with all this?"

Her brows knit together and she smiled at him. "With what?"

Daryl sighed, rubbing his neck. "Sharin'."

She chuckled, making her way up the ladder. "Daryl…I think if we survived the storage units…we can manage this. I really don't mind. Besides; you're good company."

It was the hunter's turn to be confused.

Good company?

He huffed, choosing to disregard the statement. "Ya ain't gotta stay up there…if ya don't wanna." He still felt bad for displacing her.

Carol was easing under the covers and getting comfortable above him. She closed her eyes, snuggling down into her pillow and laughing quietly. "Is that an invitation?" she asked, still laughing.

Daryl didn't understand at first, but when he put the pieces together, color rushed to his cheeks and he was glad she couldn't see him. He snorted, shaking his head. "Quit."

Carol couldn't help it. Daryl was an easy mark. She figured if she was giving up her bunk, she'd earned the right to toy with him every now and then. "Fine." she chuckled. "All joking aside…I really am fine up here."

Daryl huffed. "Good."

"I like being on top." she added, dissolving into another fit of laughter and trying to hide it by burying her face against the pillow.

Daryl blushed harder. He leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. "Lord…" he sighed, wondering why that woman took so much joy from teasing him. The sound of her laughter was beginning to grate on his nerves and he forced himself to get out of bed. He didn't even turn to look at her as he donned his vest and grabbed his bow. She was still giggling when he pushed the privacy sheet aside and wandered out onto the walkway. As his heavy footsteps echoed throughout the cell block, the hunter idly wondered how his new living arrangement was going to work out…since his roommate seemed to possess all the maturity of a twelve-year-old…

Daryl had to admit…that first night he spent in her cell…he slept better than he had in a long time. And she'd been more considerate than he could've hoped for. She gave him her bunk along with an entire night to himself to adjust to the new surroundings. He supposed that enduring her suggestive comments was a very small price to pay for a comfortable partnership. Daryl didn't always play well with others, but he got along with Carol. He felt that they understood one another and wouldn't have a problem sharing the cell, as long as they respected each other's boundaries. But neither of them knew just how difficult that would soon prove to be.

On day two, he stepped into the cell without knocking. He was quickly realizing that it was a habit he needed to break. Carol deserved just as much consideration as she'd shown him, but he just wasn't used to knocking. He pushed the sheet aside and stopped short. Carol was standing in the middle of the cell with her back to him. She was grunting softly while pulling a long-sleeved shirt over her head. He could see that she had a faded tank top on underneath but he still felt as though he were intruding on some sort of private moment. He cleared his throat, trying not to startle her.

She turned to face him, the shirt now clutched in her hands.

"Whatcha doin'?" he asked as he stepped into the cell and set his bow down on the bottom bunk.

She ran a hand through her mussed hair and glanced at a bin at the opposite end of the cell. "Laundry day." she said.

Daryl followed her gaze and noticed that the container was filled with clothes. When he refocused on her face, he could've sworn there was a hint of color in her cheeks. She folded her arms across her chest as if she were trying to hide from him. There was something strange about seeing her in a tank top…she tended to keep herself covered. He couldn't even recall having seen her shoulders before. But he took a second to look…noting the freckles that were visible near the straps.

"So…" she said, pulling him from his momentary trance.

"Hm?"

"Do you have anything that needs to be washed?" she asked.

Daryl faltered. If he were being perfectly honest, he'd have to admit that all of his clothes could do with a very thorough washing, but he preferred to take care of that on his own. Now that he was sharing a cell with this woman, he wasn't sure that he felt comfortable with her handling his laundry. His thoughts must've registered on his face.

"Come on…I know you've got dirty clothes. Just toss them in the bin; I'll make sure they get cleaned." she said.

He shook his head. "Nah; I'm good." Daryl took a step back, separating himself from her.

Carol cocked her head to the side and studied him. She knew he'd spent the morning hunting. There were flecks of blood on his shirt…his arms, even a few on his neck. A familiar musk hung heavy around him; he smelled like the woods. "Really?" she said. "You're gonna tell me there's nothing of yours that needs to be washed?"

He swallowed hard, taking another step back. Without offering any more answers, or excuses, he turned away from her and shrugged the vest off, tossing it onto his bunk. He was about to sit down when he felt her tap his shoulder. Sighing, he turned around. "What?"

She just stared at him, her arms still folded across her chest.

"You really ain't gonna let this go?" he snapped.

"No." She answered. "I'm not."

His temper was beginning to flare and he seemed to remember all the reasons he preferred isolation. "Ya ain't gotta waste time worryin' about my clothes." he growled.

She moved towards him, undaunted by the anger in his tone. "I don't consider it to be a waste." said Carol. "We're sharing a cell. I would rather we at least made some sort of effort to stay clean."

Daryl glared at her. "I can take care of my own damn clothes."

She eyed him up and down. "It doesn't look like it."

The hunter bristled.

"I'm getting ready to take this load down." she tossed her own shirt into the bin. "You might as well just give me whatever you have. You're making a bid deal out of nothing." she said, frustrated.

But an uncomfortable silence had fallen over them. They seemed to be locked in an angry staring contest, each of them waiting for the other to back down. After several minutes, Carol grew tired of the whole thing. She moved until she was standing in front of him. "Fine." she said, her hands going to the hem of his shirt.

Daryl tensed. He didn't know what was happening. His lips parted and he tried to stop her, but it was too late. She was yanking the grimy shirt up, her knuckles brushing his sides as she worked the fabric up to his rib-cage. Feeling as though she might've crossed a line, Carol froze, looking into his eyes. They were both at a loss for words. His breathing had picked up and he stared at her with fearful eyes. She stared back, her lips parting as she tried to offer an explanation. "I…" but the words just weren't coming.

The hunter could see it in her face…she was sorry…she hadn't meant to upset him or scare him. Swallowing hard, he tried to relax. Her expression softened but the shirt was still clutched loosely in her hands. He sensed that she was going to release him and he felt that he should do something. Drawing on his courage, he sighed and slowly lifted his arms. It took Carol a moment to realize what he was doing.

"Go on then…" he said. "If ya want it so bad…"

A faint smile appeared on her face and she resumed tugging the fabric until she'd pulled it up and over his head, mussing his hair in the process. Once the shirt was off, Carol stepped back, giving him space. "Thanks." she said, her gaze fixed on the dingy piece of fabric in her hands.

He sighed. "Happy?"

She glanced up at him and swore that she felt the rational part of her brain shut down. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his dark, shaggy hair was sticking up funny from where the shirt tousled it. Her eyes wandered from his strong shoulders down to his flat stomach but she stopped herself before she got any further. "I…" she wasn't sure what she was trying to say…but it wasn't working.

Something about the way she was looking at him made Daryl uneasy. He brought a thumbnail to his mouth, chewing on it. Realizing that she needed to distract herself, Carol turned away from him and walked towards the laundry bin, dropping his shirt in. She felt strangely giddy as she bent down to grab the container and haul it off the ground. She was just about to leave the cell but she paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. He was leaning against their bunks, chewing on his nail…and so much of his damp skin was on display for her. She couldn't help the next words that tripped off her tongue. "You sure all your shirts aren't dirty?" Carol bit her lip, enjoying the view for just a minute longer.

Daryl was lost. His brows knit together as he stared at her. "What?"

She blinked, trying to regain her composure. "Nothing. Never mind." She chuckled, a flush spreading across her face. "I'm gonna go." She was laughing as she pushed past the curtain and headed down the walkway.

Daryl was left alone with his thoughts and found that he was still thoroughly confused by whatever had just taken place. He continued to gnaw at his thumb nail while he leaned against their bunks.

Woman's got a lotta nerve….

Something about that aggravated him. Back at the quarry…even on the farm, he never would've let someone invade his space the way she just did. He'd spent his whole life cultivating a nasty, hostile demeanor in order to keep people away…but since the world turned, he found that the loud, aggressive person he'd been at the quarry seemed to have disappeared, or at least changed dramatically. He guessed Carol had too. The mousy woman who'd been a slave to her husband never would've had the courage to forcibly take Daryl's shirt away from him on laundry day. She'd walked right up to him and grabbed his shirt as if it were nothing…as if she'd done it a thousand times before… He couldn't help but wonder if the fact that he was a guest, in her cell, had anything to do with her boldness. He supposed that if that little exchange had taken place on his perch, he might've had the upper hand…but he was on her turf, and Daryl could respect that. The hunter decided not to linger on the fact that he'd shivered when her knuckles brushed his skin…or that he'd wasted even a single second of his time staring at the freckles on her shoulders. He shook his head, clearing away the foolish thoughts. As Daryl made his way across the cell and crouched down near his pile of belongings, he hoped for two things: that he could find a shirt she would approve of, and that they could make it through the rest of their first week without incident.

It was on the third day of their new living arrangement that things became just a bit more complicated for the two survivors. The group had discovered, much to their dismay, that the majority of the Woodbury refugees were completely clueless when it came to self defense and handling walkers. Apparently, sticking to strict curfews and hiding behind walls hadn't done much to prepare Woodbury's residents for the harsh reality of the world they lived in. The able-bodied men and women didn't have much interest in helping stab walkers through the fence and their faces went pale whenever Rick mentioned supply runs. The deputy met with his people and they'd come to an understanding; if the refugees were going to stay, they needed to contribute…to become assets. Rick and the others guessed that Woodbury's skilled fighters had all been killed during that failed attack on the prison…or soon afterwards when the Governor supposedly snapped, taking the lives of his own soldiers. That being said, the prison was now filled with people who were little more than livestock…and that had to be corrected.

Once again, Daryl found himself in a situation that he couldn't recall consenting to. Granted, all of the original prison residents seemed to be pitching in. Anyone with a skill set was busy teaching others. Herschel was working with a small group, showing them the basics of treating minor injuries. Fortunately, one of the Woodbury refugees was a nurse; she and the farmer were doing well together and had a small section of the library devoted to medical training. Beth helped by looking after Judith, as well as some of the younger children that had recently arrived at the prison. Rick had taken a group to the Eastern side of the yard to work on gun use. Maggie and Glenn were on watch; Maggie was slowly pacing back and forth on the cat walk while Glenn leaned against the railing of one of the guard towers. Not wanting to be surrounded by strangers, Carl and Michonne opted for fence duty. With a sword and a crowbar, the two spent the afternoon stabbing corpses to avoid any pile-ups that might create weak spots along the fences. Daryl supposed that it all made sense…everyone was right where they should be…but that meant he was left to deal with his own group of useless survivors. The deputy had pulled him aside, earlier in the day, asking if he would mind showing the newcomers a few basic things to help them with self defense and close combat. Daryl had been with Rick's group long enough to know that if the deputy wanted something, he wasn't likely to let up, no matter how much the hunter whined or argued. So Daryl bit back the angry words that were burning on his tongue and grunted some sort of agreement to his leader. The idea of interacting with these strange new people was bad enough, but Rick had leaned in, grabbing Daryl's shoulder and telling him one last thing.

Carol's gonna help….

The hunter wanted to say no, to tell Rick to take her. The woman was a great shot and could probably do more good by teaching marksmanship, but the deputy wasn't opening the issue up for discussion. He simply turned, walking away, and left Daryl to deal with the task at hand. Carol had been standing with some of the newcomers but she moved to Daryl's side once Rick was gone.

"Hey," she said, nudging him with her shoulder.

"What?" he snapped, glaring at her.

She folded her arms across her chest and smiled at him. "It's fine. This is nothing. Let's just get through it and go on about our business. You should take this as a compliment."

He snorted. "Why's that?"

She rocked slowly on her heels before glancing at him. "Because Rick obviously has confidence in you. He wouldn't have asked you to do this if he didn't think you were the best person for the job. The way I see it," she nudged him again. "He's left these good people in very capable hands."

Daryl snorted again, rolling his eyes. "You done?"

She chuckled, nodding. "They're all yours." She gestured to the eight refugees they'd been left with.

The hunter grumbled under his breath before lifting his chin to look at the newcomers. "Guessin' ya'll ain't done much fightin'…since the turn…"

The onlookers shifted uneasily on their feet and he could hear them murmuring to one another.

"First thing I need ya to wrap your heads around is this." He glanced over his shoulder and gestured to the fences in the distance. There were dozens of walkers lingering just beyond the perimeter of the prison. Their pale, rotting fingers were clinging weakly to the fences while they moaned and growled out of starvation. "Those dead bastards…they ain't your concern."

The refugees seemed confused as they exchanged glances; he could see their brows knitting together. "You're not going to show us how to take out biters?" one woman asked.

Daryl's hands went to his hips as he considered an answer. "We'll get there…but first, ya'll need to learn how to deal with other people."

"Other people?" another refugee asked. The man's name was Tyreese; the group had crossed paths with him and his sister Sasha before the governor's attack. Daryl had to admit that the two were decent company, and they pulled their own weight. But from what the hunter could see, Tyreese had a strong distaste for violence and seemed to avoid conflict at all costs.

Daryl answered with a nod. "Corpses ain't got smarts…they ain't got speed. It's people ya need to worry about. People that want what you got."

Tyreese bowed his head, absorbing the hunter's words. The others looked fearful, but none of them could offer up an argument. They'd seen for themselves how dangerous people could be.

Clearing his throat, Daryl gestured to his partner. "This here's Carol. She's gonna help me out." Even as he said the words, Daryl had trouble accepting them.

The hell am I doin'?

But it was too late to change course. He and Carol had a job to do, however unpleasant, and she was right; they just needed to push through and get it over with. He took a few steps back, distancing himself from her. Her arms were still folded across her chest as she eyed him. "How did you wanna start?" she asked.

Daryl was out of his depth. He rubbed the back of his neck and scuffed his boot on the grass.

Sighing, Carol rolled her shoulders and ran her hands through her hair. "How about this." she said.

He looked up, meeting her gaze.

"Why don't you just come at me?" She turned around and left him staring at her back. "Just try to take me from behind."

Daryl's lips parted and he had to take a moment to make sure he'd heard her correctly. He swallowed hard and wondered if she'd really meant to say that…

Carol sighed again and looked over her shoulder. "You just gonna stand there?" she asked.

The refugees were waiting patiently for their instructor to act, but he seemed frozen. Knowing that he couldn't continue to stall, Daryl took a deep breath and fought to clear his head.

It's just Carol…Ain't nothin' I can't handle…

Drawing on false confidence, he ran his hands through his hair and kicked at the ground one last time. When he met Carol's gaze they nodded to one another and she turned away, waiting for him to advance. The mid-day sun was glaring down at them and he took a second to wipe sweat away from his eyes.

Lord

Exhaling slowly, and keeping his focus on her back, he started moving…he was slow at first but he picked up speed as he got closer. Daryl didn't have a plan…he had no idea what he was supposed to do, so he clenched his teeth and hoped for natural instincts to kick in. The space between them was shrinking and suddenly he was there…he reached his target and one strong arm was locked around her neck while the other went across her torso, pulling her body against his.

The air left Carol's lungs when they collided. She knew he wasn't used to showing restraint, but she could tell he was trying. When his arm curled around her neck, the forcefulness was jarring, but it wasn't enough to hurt her. He had her in a head lock, but then his other arm was snaking around her middle pulling her back into him. He seemed to suddenly surround her…his strong body pressed up against her and his scent flooding her senses, like some sort of airborne toxin that made her dizzy. She was temporarily frozen, overcome by the man that held her… She closed her eyes, her head going back to rest against his chest while his grip tightened on her body. Lost in her haze, Carol forgot about the refugees. Nothing seemed to matter but the feeling of his arms banding around her and his solid body behind her. Her heart was thrumming and her legs felt weak. The hot blood coursing through her made her feel feverish and she found that she had to fight to stay standing.

Daryl knew, the instant he touched her, that he'd made a mistake. He heard the tiny gasp that escaped her and the sound seemed to resonate…echoing in his ears, over and over. His arm was locked around her neck and he'd intended to stop there, but once he had her in his grasp…he found that it wasn't enough. He had to feel more of her, touch her… So he grabbed her around the middle and made sure their bodies were flush. They were both breathing hard and he pulled her scent into his lungs. He could smell her sweat, her skin…her hair…she smelled like a woman and he gripped her tighter. A bead of sweat rolled down his jaw line when he realized how close they were. Her ass was pressed against his groin and he knew that if she moved…if she struggled, he wouldn't be able to help his body's reaction. But it didn't matter. He had her…she couldn't get away, and something about that gave him a strange thrill. As far as he was concerned, the rest of the world had disappeared…they were the only two people left and he wasn't going to let her go. Keeping a growl locked in his chest, the hunter held his prey and continued to breathe her in.

It was Carol who finally came to her senses. Somehow, she was able to hear the hushed murmurings of the onlookers over the sound of her own pounding heart beat. Suddenly remembering what they were doing…and where they were, Carol blinked, regaining control of herself. She ignored the sharp, masculine scent that seemed to hang on him like an aura, and forced herself into action. Reaching quickly for the heavy knife that hung at her belt, she slipped the weapon from its sheath and jerked her arm upwards, with the intention of driving the shining tip of the blade into Daryl's neck. She stopped just short of making contact and Daryl swallowed hard. Slowly, he released his hold on her and took a step back.

Clearing her throat, and hoping that she didn't look half as flustered as she felt, Carol faced the refugees. "A weapon…even a small one, can make all the difference. Keep it where you have easy access…not tucked in your jeans or wedged in your boot; you have to be able to get to it quickly." she said, wiping some of the sweat from her brow.

There were a few nods and the refugees waited eagerly for further instruction.

"If you don't already carry weapons…I suggest you start. Anyone who's interested can see Rick; he'll help you pick something that works for you." She turned then, glancing over her shoulder and beckoning to Daryl.

His hands were on his hips and he was working to catch his breath as he stared at her.

"Come here…the way you were." she said.

A deep crease formed in the hunter's brow. He was quickly realizing that he'd lost control, at least to some extent, when he held her…and he wasn't sure he was ready for more contact. But she was calling to him, asking for his help…and the refugees were waiting for the training they'd been promised. He hung his head, cursing silently within the confines of his skull. Once his heart rate had slowed a bit, he nodded and made himself move towards her again. This time, he was hesitant, almost fearful as he secured one arm around her neck and the other around her mid-section. He didn't hold her as tightly and he made sure there was a tiny sliver of space between their bodies. Once she and her partner were in position, Carol eyed the refugees. "I went for the neck," she said. "But this is another option…" she raised her arm, lifting the knife up high, and then jerking it down at an angle as if she intended to drive the blade into Daryl's thigh. She felt him tense behind her as the knife neared his leg, but she stopped, just as she had before. "There's a major artery here…" she carefully drug the tip of the knife along the inside of Daryl's thigh…the tip of the blade was scraping on the worn fabric of his pants. "If you can't lift your arms high enough to reach a vital point like the neck…the leg will do. Hit that femoral artery, and your attacker will go down…they won't be getting back up." She turned her head, glancing at Daryl and giving his arm a pat, "Thanks." she said. He nodded, releasing her.

Sensing that she would need to take the lead with their little self-defense class, Carol rubbed her neck and studied the onlookers. "Sometimes…you'll find yourselves in situations where struggling won't help. Maybe you're outmatched…the attacker is stronger, faster…you don't have a weapon…"

"What do you do?" one woman asked, her eyes wide and fearful.

Carol's hands went to her hips. "Say the attacker gets in a few good hits…you go down…sometimes it's better to stay down."

The woman's brow furrowed as she tried to understand. Daryl eyed Carol and wondered where she was going with all this. Slowly, carefully, Carol eased down onto the grass, laying on her back. "Whoever it is that's got you…they're not going to turn their backs until they know you're down for good. They'll check…whether with a nudge to the ribs, a soft kick…they'll check for a response. Daryl…" she called out, "Care to demonstrate?"

He swallowed hard, getting his nerves in check, and started to walk towards her. When he reached her, the hunter stared down at his partner. She was looking up at him, her face a mask of concentration. He slowly circled her body, walking around her several times, his eyes locked on hers…but she didn't move. When he came to a stop, he moved his leg, preparing to kick her. He had no intention of actually making contact, but he wanted to seem convincing. He pulled one leg back and then swung it forward, aiming for her ribs, but she sat up suddenly, gripping his ankle and twisting it. She was applying just enough pressure to make him swear and he lost his footing, hitting the ground hard. The instant he hit the grass, Carol was leaning over him with her knife at the ready. She was bending over him, one of her hands had formed a fist, clutching tightly at the front of his shirt while the other held the knife at an angle, as if she were poised to drive it into his neck. Their breathing had picked up again and they were staring hard at one another. Daryl was on his back, panting and trying to figure out exactly how this woman got him on the ground.

The refugees seemed equally shocked by Carol's ability to get the hunter on his back with so little effort. They murmured to one another and waited to see what their instructors would do next. Carol swallowed hard, calming herself, and whispered to him. "You okay?"

Daryl grunted at her. "I'm good. Ya wanna put that thing away now?" His eyes went to the knife that was still dangerously close to his neck.

She seemed to blush and quickly sheathed her weapon. "Sorry. You're sure your ankle's okay?"

He nodded, propping himself up on his elbows. She was still kneeling beside him, his shirt clutched tightly in her fist. She seemed reluctant to let go and Daryl studied the way her pale fingers were curled around the dull grey fabric of his shirt. "Sure you're okay?" he growled softly.

She chuckled nervously. "Yeah. Come on." She moved to stand and then held out her arm, waiting for him to take her hand.

Daryl's blue eyes narrowed as he looked up at her. He gripped her hand and she started to haul him up off the ground. He knew that he should've just let her help him, but something caught hold of him the moment she grabbed his ankle. The hunter felt as though a little bit of his dignity had been stolen when he hit the grass, and he needed something to restore his confidence. This was supposed to be his domain. So he stared up at her, the tiniest hint of a smirk on his mouth. Carol didn't understand why his expression had changed and she continued to pull his hand, trying to get him to stand. But instead of getting up, Daryl used his grip on her hand to pull her arm; the action was strong and sudden, causing Carol to lose her balance. She went down and Daryl didn't even give her a chance to react. Before she could move or speak, he was on her…straddling her body and pinning her arms above her head.

Carol was stunned, her heart thrumming rapidly in her chest as she stared up at her captor. She couldn't speak and she couldn't seem to get her bearings. Daryl was looming over her, a smug smirk on his face as he kept her arms pinned to the ground and her body trapped underneath him. She glanced at his arms and watched as drops of sweat followed the hard curves of muscle. His shaggy hair was hanging in his eyes and his scent was everywhere…leather and grass and smoke… the first button on his shirt was undone and she could see a hint of his chest, the skin damp, glistening… and for one foolish second, Carol wanted nothing more than to push herself, up, lean forward and taste the salt on his skin…just to dip her tongue into the well of his throat… She could feel the delicious pressure of his fingers curling around her wrists and his pelvis resting over hers…

God

Carol found that she wanted to stay like that, trapped in the grass, at his mercy. She wanted to keep looking up into those narrowed, blue eyes and see him smirking down at her. Nothing else mattered…

Daryl wasn't sure what he was doing. He just wanted to get the upper hand…and now that he had her on the ground, he was loathe to let her up. He liked having her underneath him. His heart was pounding heavy in his chest and sweat was making the shirt cling to his back, but he felt good…dominant. His lips parted to make way for ragged breathing and as he stared down at her, he realized that she wasn't fighting. Carol was on her back, her body completely still under his…she was letting him have control. She wasn't struggling to get away; she seemed strangely content. He watched the way her chest rose and fell as she tried to slow her breathing and then his eyes returned to her face. He noticed the faint dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose, the vibrant color of her eyes and the soft curves of her lips. He liked the way she looked, her face flushed and her hair mussed…the green grass all around her…and he could've sworn, as he watched her watching him, that she liked being trapped. The hunter's mind was struggling with that concept as his eyes roamed her face.

The refugees were staring at their instructors and wondering if the lesson had ended. One of the women, Karen, leaned in close, whispering to Tyreese. "Are they…?" She knew that Tyreese had interacted with these people before.

But the big man shook his head. "Nah...I mean…not that I've heard."

Karen's brows knit together. "Are you sure?"

Tyreese studied the two people who were still on the ground. "Pretty sure…" he said softly.

The refugees weren't the only ones confused by Carol and Daryl's behavior. In the nearest guard tower, Glenn was slowly lowering his binoculars. He'd been watching the little demonstration from the start and had difficulty accepting what he'd seen with his own eyes. No one hated touching more than Daryl…no one hated people more than Daryl. And yet…the hunter had stood in the yard, with Carol at his side, as the two addressed the small group of charges they'd been left with. Glenn saw the way his companions attacked one another, or pretended to… and he noticed that they seemed to grow more and more comfortable with contact as the lesson progressed. The young man couldn't help but find it strange that Daryl would let Carol touch him…and that when either of them made contact with the other, they seemed to drag it out…hands lingering on skin… and the way they stared at one another…it was slightly unnerving to anyone looking on. Glenn didn't understand and he wasn't sure he wanted to. He couldn't help but scratch his head and wonder exactly how long it was going to take Daryl and Carol to get up off the ground.

But the two survivors were still lost in each other. Her lips had spread into a soft smile and she was staring at his mouth while he stared back at her. They might've spent the rest of their afternoon like that if Tyreese hadn't cleared his throat to get their attention. With their trance momentarily broken, Daryl and Carol both glanced at him; they seemed surprised to see that their students were still there. "Yes?" Carol asked, hoping she sounded relatively normal…her arms were still pinned above her head.

Tyreese blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Did you wanna show us how to deal with biters now?"

Carol gnawed her bottom lip as she stared up at Daryl. He reluctantly uncurled his fingers, letting her go. He took a moment to release a heavy sigh as he stood up, separating himself from her. He offered her his hand and she took it, hauling herself up. They stood on weak legs and brushed themselves off. When their eyes met, they held the connection for several heartbeats…each of them trying desperately to make sense of what had just taken place between them. Carol ran a hand through her hair. "I can take them to the fences…if you wanna take a break…" she said.

Daryl considered the offer. He could certainly use some air, and a quiet place to cool down inside the prison….but that didn't seem right. He told Rick that he would handle the class and he wasn't about to shrug his responsibilities off on Carol. So he wiped the sweat from above his lip and shook his head. "Nah. I got this. You go on."

She stared at him, her eyes questioning his decision.

"It's fine." he said, his hands on his hips. "Go on."

She shrugged, smiling at him. "Alright. As long as you're sure." She faced the group of refugees one last time, a faint blush on her cheeks. "I'll leave you all in Daryl's hands. Pay attention, and you just might learn something useful." She looked over her shoulder, smirking at him, and then headed back towards the prison.

Daryl was thrown off by the look she gave him…and by the whole afternoon in general. He wasn't sure how he was going to get through the rest of this lesson. He was rubbing the back of his head, and kicking absently at the ground when he heard one of the women talking to him.

"So you and Carol…"

The statement seemed to clear the hunter's head instantly. Without his partner there to distract him, and keep him in line, Daryl was free to be as brusque and as hostile as he wanted. He narrowed his eyes and stared hard at the woman. "Ya'll are on my time now." he said, using a tone that brooked no arguments. "Carol ain't none of your concern. Now ya wanna learn how to deal with these bastards…or ya just gonna stand there jawin'?"

The refugees were taken aback by the hunter's sudden change in attitude.

"Cuz I can promise that no one's gonna step up and carry your sorry asses. Ya live, or ya die. That's on you." He pointed at them. "Now what's it gonna be?" he growled.

The refugees exchanged nervous glances and shifted on their feet. It was Tyreese who finally spoke up. "We're here to learn. You want us on the fence, then that's what we'll do." the big man spoke calmly, hoping to diffuse some of the hunter's anger.

Daryl huffed, his hands still on his hips. "Alright then; let's move." he turned away and started walking towards the fences; he could hear their reluctant footsteps as they followed him. "And roll up your damn sleeves; this ain't gonna be pretty." he called out.

Karen shook her head, marveling at the man's sudden aggression. "I guess you're right…" she said to Tyreese as they walked side by side.

"About what?" he asked

"They're not together." she mused.

"What makes you say that?"

Karen chuckled. "If they were sleeping together, I don't think he'd be this much of an ass."

Tyreese snorted, shaking his head. "Maybe."

With that, the refugees followed their instructor as he stormed across the yard.

Carol leaned against the wall, enjoying the cool concrete and the isolation of her cell. She let her head fall back and her eyes closed as she tried to catch her breath. She'd all but run back to the prison once Daryl dismissed her. She hurried through the cell block, keeping her head down and avoiding eye contact with anyone. All she wanted was a minute to herself.

When Carol finally reached her cell, she pushed the privacy sheet aside and then let it fall back into place behind her. She'd been resting against the wall for several minutes and her heart rate was finally beginning to slow. Like Daryl, she had no idea what just happened between the two of them. When Rick pulled her aside that morning, asking if she would help Daryl with the lesson, she'd been fine with the whole thing…maybe a bit confused, but fine overall. She suspected that the deputy had chosen her because she and Daryl tended to get along fairly well…meaning Daryl argued less with her than he did with the rest of their group. And when she and Daryl stood in front of their group of refugees, she figured the whole thing would be fine…nothing they couldn't handle. But the instant they touched…when she felt his strong, sweaty arm go around her neck…she couldn't help the gasp that escaped her. He pulled her back against his hard body, trapping her…and she felt a sudden, crippling excitement rush through her like electricity. And then, when he had her on the ground…his legs straddling her waist, it was all she could do to keep herself from groaning.

It took a few minutes for Carol to get her breathing under control as she leaned back against the wall. She brought a hand to her forehead, cupping it, and let a sigh pass her lips. She was trying desperately to understand what happened out there in the yard. She wanted to know what came over her when she got him on his back…his shirt clutched tightly in her fist and her knife poised near his neck…it all seemed to happen so fast. Carol's breath caught in her throat, and her eyes flew open when the answer finally came…arousal.

That's what happened. The term sounded strange, even in the privacy of her mind. She hadn't experienced physical attraction in years and had all but forgotten what it felt like. Ed would've given her a bloody lip if he even suspected that she was looking at another man. After Ed was gone…the only thing that mattered was keeping Sophia safe. Carol's chest tightened at the memory of her daughter. She'd put all of her strength and energy into protecting the girl…hiding her…but it hadn't been enough. And when the unthinkable happened…when Sophia was finally gone…a part of Carol died with her. There was something…some essential piece of Carol's soul that was left in the red dirt that day, outside the barn…with the rest of the human wreckage. The home she'd found with her fellow survivors was a great comfort, and the bonds she'd formed with Rick's group slowly helped to rebuild her…but in all the time she'd spent with her fellow survivors…Carol had never experienced the spark of physical attraction.

It wasn't as if she didn't have any temptation… Rick, Glenn and Daryl were all appealing, in their own ways, but she'd never really looked close enough to appreciate all of the little details. They were simply part of her group…her family, and whether or not they were attractive seemed to be of little importance. She fought with them, helped them, defended them when she could…and they'd all done the same for her. Somewhere along the line, she forged a friendship with Daryl. They had similar pasts and tended to think alike. They were both incredibly driven, focused, and did everything they could to limit distractions. She supposed that's why she'd grown closer to him than any of the others. But in all their days together…even the time they'd spent cramped in storage units during the winter…Carol never once considered the possibility that she and Daryl could engage in anything more than friendship. They'd all been so concerned with finding shelter that anything other than food, water, weapons and defense, fell to the wayside. That was why Carol had been so ready and willing to let the hunter share her cell; she couldn't foresee a single complication or negative outcome. It should've been easy…simple. She knew Daryl…she felt comfortable with him…but the second she crossed the line and pulled that shirt off of him, Carol found that she wanted to get to know him just a little bit better.

God…

As she stood in the cell that day, his dirty shirt clutched in her hands, Carol seemed to notice him for the first time. She liked his messy hair, and the way his skin always seemed to be covered in dirt and sweat. She liked the way he chewed his thumbnail when he got nervous, and how his eyes seemed brighter whenever his temper started to flare. The scruff on his chin, his husky voice, his scent…the way he seemed to radiate aggression, masculinity and testosterone from every pore, even if he didn't realize it...his defiant attitude, his lean, hard, body… The combination was suddenly staggering and seemed to remind Carol that she was a woman. All of those things had raced through her mind as the two of them stood in her cell, arguing over laundry. And that was when Carol realized that sharing a small space with Daryl might not be as easy as she thought.

The laundry incident had been bad enough, but today…..being trapped underneath her new cellmate as he kept her in the grass…Carol wasn't even sure how she'd made it through that without completely embarrassing herself. The sensations that were rioting inside her…sudden wants and needs ricocheting off one another, grew more and more distracting with each passing second, and she didn't know what to do. Restless and weak, Carol pushed herself away from the wall and moved towards the ladder that lead up to her bunk. With sweaty palms, she gripped the railing and hauled herself up into the small space. Flopping onto her back, she stared up at the grey ceiling and waited for her body to relax.

One hand was resting on her belly and she began drumming her fingers. Carol fidgeted, trying to get comfortable on the thin mattress. She'd worked up a bit of a sweat, out in the yard with Daryl, and she could feel the pillowcase sticking to the back of her neck. Sighing, she continued to wait. She started counting off the seconds in her head…

one, two, three, four….

But her body was still thrumming with trapped energy. Carol closed her eyes, hoping to find some peace within the privacy of her own mind. She just needed a few minutes alone...to breathe and refocus.

twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…

It wasn't working. When she closed her eyes, he was there…waiting for her. There was no soothing darkness to be found behind her lids…just him. He was staring down at her, as if she were still lying in the grass outside. His blue-grey eyes were narrowed; he was fixated on her. Carol's free hand was beginning to form a fist as she clutched the sheet underneath her. The look on his face made her feel weak. She couldn't recall a man ever having this effect on her; it was unnerving. Her legs were raised, bent at the knee, and the cell seemed to be shrinking around her. There wasn't enough space, her temperature was rising and her mouth had gone dry…but none of that mattered. The only thing that could hold her attention was the familiar face in her mind's eye. Carol studied his mouth, the mole near his lip, the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes, the locks of dark hair hanging in his face…the image was so startlingly vivid, real…she could even smell him…just the memory of his scent was enough to make her core hurt. She remembered the way it felt to have him looming over her…his weight resting over her pelvis and his strong legs trapping her on either side…her arms pinned above her head… It was all too much and Carol could feel herself losing the battle with what remained of her willpower.

With shaking hands, she reached for her belt and began to fumble with the buckle. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to lose the image she had in her mind. Once the belt was unfastened, she made quick work of the button on her pants, and then the zipper. She was nervous; her heart beating so fast that it almost made her feel sick, but she couldn't stop…Carol needed an outlet. She used both hands to clutch her waist band and push the pants down past her hips. When she felt the air hit the skin of her thighs, goose bumps rose on her legs. She couldn't bring herself to slide her cotton panties down, but one hand was resting on her lower belly…dangerously close to her panty line. Carol could feel sweat breaking out under her clothes and she wondered if she was doing something wrong.

I shouldn't…Someone could see me…hear me…

She suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that she shared a cell block with a fairly decent number of fellow survivors. But every cell in her body was screaming for release and the pain in her core was getting worse. She quickly began rationalizing with herself…or trying to….

They're all outside…Rick, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie…and Herschel has a group in the library…

Her hand slid cautiously under the thin fabric of her panties and the instant her fingertips brushed her clit, Carol groaned. She hadn't pleasured herself in so long…not since before the turn, and even then…she was always so afraid that Ed would catch her. He'd worked hard, with his fists and his boots, to convince her that pleasure was wrong…that it was something she should feel guilty for. In all the years they'd spent as husband and wife, Ed never managed to give Carol an orgasm. In a moment of weakness, she'd purchased a vibrator. She might've been a mother and a battered wife, but she was still just a woman with basic needs. She spent so much of her adult life enduring senseless pain and emotional trauma, that she felt she deserved to feel something good…at least once in a while. Carol hid the vibrator, only daring to use it when she was absolutely sure her husband was far from home. But each time she gave in and sought release, she couldn't help but to feel guilty afterwards. It was always with trembling hands and a pounding heart that she took care of her needs. And now, in the privacy of her cell, Carol found that she was still plagued by feelings of terrible guilt. Her palms were sweaty and her breathing was shallow. Her eyes were still closed and the only thing that brought her any sort of comfort was the familiar face lingering in her imagination. She held onto the image…a face she'd seen a thousand times. As she memorized his features, Carol's hands stopped shaking. She let go of the fears and doubts that had been warring inside her. All that mattered was the man in her thoughts and the way he made her feel…safealive….

She imagined what it might be like to kiss him…to have his body so close to hers…her hands in his hair and his chapped lips pressing against hers…. As the pictures in her mind took on a life of their own, Carol's fingertips began to circle her clit. She was applying just enough pressure to stop the ache in her core and she could feel her walls opening. She arched her back, surrendering to the feelings that had taken hold of her. In her mind, Carol could still see him…he was looming over her…she thought about how it might feel if he were inside her…if he slipped into the heat between her legs and took what he wanted from her. She would let him have everything….

Carol's fingertips were moving faster and her hips were bucking weakly as she sought release. The cell had grown so warm, almost stiflingly so, and her teeth were sinking into her bottom lip. She arched her back again, trying to imagine the feeling of his manhood inside her walls. Sweat was forming at the backs of her knees and she could feel her entire body tensing. She wanted him….wanted this… and in the safety of her mind, she could have him. "Yes…" she breathed. "Yes…." She was spurring him on, urging her fictional partner to drive her closer and closer to orgasm. Just as she was about to let his name fall from her lips, something made Carol freeze. The motion of her hand stopped and her eyes flew open. The sound of footsteps was echoing outside on the walkway. Working to slow her breathing, Carol withdrew her hand and quickly pulled her pants up. She was hurrying to get the zipper up and the belt fastened. As the footsteps grew louder, a familiar voice reached her ears….

Beth

Carol breathed a heavy sigh of relief and let her eyes close.

At least it's not him…

She licked her dry lips and waited for her heart rate to slow.

"Carol? You there?" the young girl asked as she stood on the other side of the privacy sheet.

"Yeah. What did you need?"

"It's Judith. She's been fussy for the last hour or so and I can't get her to go down for her nap. I was hopin' you could help."

Carol sighed again and forced herself to sit up on the bunk. "Sure. I'll be there in a bit. Think I'm just gonna head to the showers for a minute, but I'll be back. Why don't you wait for me in the mess hall?"

"Alright. See ya down there." with that, Beth turned on her heel and made her way back down the metal stairs.

Carol ran a hand through her hair and shook her head, realizing that she was more frustrated now than she had been before her little daydream started.

Fantastic….

And to top it off, she would be dealing with a cranky child for the rest of the afternoon. Drawing on strength and restraint, she used the side ladder to climb down off her bunk.

Maybe the interruption was a good thing…I don't have a right to think about him like that anyway.

Hoping to clear her head with a little cool water, Carol pushed her privacy sheet aside and made her way down to the showers.

The day had proven to be a long one…for just about everybody in the prison. When Carol left Daryl to deal with the small group of refugees, his mood had soured instantly. He didn't want to be around strangers, and he certainly didn't want to be bothered with the nagging thoughts that had plagued him ever since he straddled Carol, pinning her to the ground. His brief demonstration with her left the hunter teeming with trapped energy…aggression that he desperately needed to unleash on something or someone. So he stormed across the yard, with his charges following close behind. When they reached the fences, Daryl didn't waste any time.

He glared at the refugees and barked at them to pay attention. He'd pulled his knife from the sheath on his belt and thrust the weapon into the skull of the nearest corpse. The adrenaline that coursed through him, when he felt the bone and brain tissue give way under the impact of the blade, seemed to help, but only slightly. He snarled as he wrenched the weapon free and watched the walker crumble to the ground. His chest was heaving and he was gripping the knife so tightly that his palm hurt. He'd glanced over his shoulder, eyeing his charges, and telling them what to do.

"When you're up here, clearin' these bastards…don't hesitate, 'n don't waste time over thinkin' it. They ain't people…'n this ain't optional. Everyone works the fence. Ya do it quick, 'n ya move on. We gotta keep these assholes from pilin' up, or else the fence is gonna go down. If that happens, ya'll best learn to fight real quick. Got me?" He studied them with narrowed eyes and waited for a response.

There were a few nods and some hushed murmurings as the refugees stared at their instructor. No one offered up an argument.

"Use a knife, a crow bar, hell…." He raised one arm for emphasis and then let it drop to his side. "Use a goddamn sharp stick if that's all ya got. But make sure you got somethin' in your hand when your ass is down here. Now c'mon. I ain't spendin' my whole damn day out here." He turned his head to spit before pointing at the fence.

The very nervous refugees swallowed hard and slowly crept closer to the fence. Daryl watched as they lifted weapons with shaking hands and made feeble attempts to stab walkers. The whole thing only added to his frustration. He wasn't a teacher, and he sure as hell wasn't a babysitter. He had no intention of standing idle while the newcomers worked the fence. Instead, he squared his shoulders and lunged forward, driving his blade into another corpse. Daryl shuddered, savoring the satisfaction that came with making another kill. Following his own advice, he worked quickly, slipping the blade free and moving on to the next walker. He was relentless as he moved along the fence, killing one monster after another. His teeth were clenched and his muscles tensed each time the knife found its mark…the cool metal sinking into wasted flesh, cutting through bone and tissue with ease. He could feel the sweat trickling down his spine, his arms…but it didn't matter. Daryl was lost in blood lust and all he wanted was to destroy anything that came near him. So he stabbed, cut and tore at the corpses, driving the shining point of the blade into sunken eye sockets and grey, rotting temples… Drops of sweat fell from the ends of his hair as he moved with speed and aggression that seemed to unnerve those around him. Spittle flew from his lips when he snarled at the walkers. Blood was rushing in his ears and everything he saw was red. He lashed out, again and again, pushing the knife into bloated corpses. Each time he jerked his weapon free, flecks of dark blood would follow, splattering his shirt, his neck…He wasn't sure when the blade began to grow slick in his palm. It wasn't until someone called to him…the sound ringing in his ears, that he stopped and stared down at his hand. The blade was glistening red in the afternoon light…thick droplets falling from the sharp edge. There was so much blood that the sticky liquid covered his hand and his wrist. Daryl's breathing was ragged and he realized that he was still clutching the knife so tightly that his knuckles were white… He took a shaky step back from the fence and looked to the right. He could see a line of fallen corpses that he'd left in his wake, and he wondered how long he'd been lost in his own head. The voice reached him again, breaking his trance.

"Daryl?" Tyreese called out. "You alright?"

The hunter swallowed hard, blinking a few times. "I'm fine." he managed.

Tyreese glanced at his fellow refugees before refocusing on Daryl. "You sure?"

Daryl flicked his wrist, shaking some of the blood and bits of flesh from his weapon. "Yeah. Just think I need some water. I'm gonna head in; ya'll stay out here till ya clear this section."

The newcomers all watched him as he made his way across the yard and headed towards the prison. Each of them wondered what had gotten into the usually sullen hunter, but they were all too afraid to voice their opinions.

Daryl was equally confused, and even a little disturbed by his actions. Once he reached the prison and washed up, he spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning weapons. He needed something to take his mind off of the refugees, the fence, and Carol. Whenever unwelcome thoughts began creeping into his mind, he simply grabbed another rifle from the group's crude armory and sat down at a table with fresh rags.

By the time his watch shift was over that evening, Daryl was ready to drop. He stood outside Carol's cell and cleared his throat. "Can I come in?"

"Yep." she called back.

He pushed the sheet aside and stepped into the cell. Carol was already curled on the top bunk; he suspected she'd had a long day too. "Tired?" he asked as he shrugged of his vest, letting it hit the floor.

She chuckled softly. "A little. You?"

He snorted and began working at the buttons on his shirt. "Tired ain't the word for it. That was a long ass day."

Carol propped herself up on one elbow as she stared at him. He stood with his back to her and worked the sleeveless shirt off his shoulders. The lighting in their cell was dim; all they had was a gas lantern sitting on an end table. But even in the gloom, Carol found herself mesmerized by the sight of his bare flesh. His back was marked with deep scars, jagged, angry lines that she knew must've been made over time by some relentless abuser. But it wasn't the raised flesh and deep gouges that held her attention, it was the man underneath. She marveled at the fact that he felt comfortable enough to take his shirt off while she was in the cell. "Wh…what are you doing?" she asked softly.

He tossed his shirt across the room and it landed in the laundry bin. Carol's question made him stop and glance over his shoulder. "I been told I gotta take better care of my clothes." His eyes were narrowed and there was a small smirk on his mouth.

Carol shook her head, laughing. "I didn't think you'd listen."

He snorted, running a hand through his hair as he turned around and faced her. "Ain't like I got much of a choice. Figured if I tried to sleep in that thing your scrawny ass would be down here tryin' to pull it off of me."

She felt herself blush. "Quit."

He gave her another smirk before he collapsed onto the bottom bunk and lay on his stomach.

"If I remember correctly, it was my scrawny ass that got you on the ground earlier." she quipped.

He groaned, rolling onto his back and staring at the bunk above him. "Ya got lucky."

"I don't think luck had anything to do with it. You went down pretty quick." she was chuckling again.

Daryl huffed as he slid under the thin sheet. "It wasn't just my ass on the ground…you went down too."

"That was different." she said, the blush spreading across her face. "You caught me off guard."

"Well ya best pay attention next time." he said

She laughed again, snuggling down into her pillow. "I'll try. Goodnight Daryl."

He adjusted the pillow under his head and finally let his eyes close. "Night." The hunter wanted nothing more than to put the whole day behind him. The flimsy mattress felt good underneath him and he was sinking slowly into the shadowy world of sleep. But that night, the third night of their new living arrangement, Daryl found himself lost in a dream that he didn't want to wake from.

"What are ya doin?" he asked.

She smirked at him as she pushed him back into the nearest wall. "Whatever I want." she said.

He wanted to say something…he thought he should at least try to stop her, but she silenced him with her lips. He was powerless against her. She kissed him, long and hard, her tongue slipping under his. Daryl could feel his body reacting and he started to get nervous. She tasted so good and she was so close to him…her body up against his. Unable to stop himself, he reached for her waist, gripping her tight. She kept kissing him, her hands clutching at the front of his shirt while she moaned into his mouth. That was all it took…her sweet, wet mouth, and that deep moan that seemed to come from her chest. Daryl felt himself get hard and the kissing only made it worse. His hands moved from her waist to her ass where he squeezed the flesh; he used his grip on her body to keep her flush against him. She seemed to like it. Their kisses intensified as her hands slipped down between them, going to his belt. He growled against her lips but made no moves to stop her. "It's okay," she whispered, taking a moment to suck his bottom lip. "Let me do this."

All he could do was nod as she worked on his belt. His hands were still massaging her ass and he could feel himself going rigid…his hard-on straining against his pants. He gasped when he felt the zipper being tugged down and then she was biting her lip, smirking at him in the dark. Without warning, she reached into his boxers and gripped his length.

"Christ!" he hissed, slamming his eyes shut.

She squeezed him, running her thumb over the tip. She could feel the drops of moisture there and she leaned in close, whispering to him. "Seems like you want me to keep going…"

He swallowed hard, nodding, his eyes still closed.

"Just relax." she said softly as she ran her hand up and down his cock, applying just the right amount of pressure.

The hunter's mouth had gone dry and his mind was racing. Her hand was so soft and she was moving it so slowly, almost torturing him. "M…More…" he stammered.

She smirked, tightening her grip on his shaft.

"Fuck…" he breathed.

"I said relax…" she reminded him as she stroked his member one more time before letting go.

The loss of her touch was terrible and it was all Daryl could do to wait her out. He felt sweat pooling at his temples and he kept his eyes closed…his chest was beginning to heave with every breath.

In the next instant, her hands were gripping his waist band. She gave a good tug and pulled his boxers down along with his pants. His cock was suddenly free and aching to be touched. He didn't know what was happening but he knew that he needed her to touch him. She kept pushing the fabric down his legs until he finally stepped out of the pants and boxers. She tossed the clothes aside and then leaned into his space again, catching his mouth with hers. He was hungry for her, sucking at her tongue and biting her lips…his hands were back on her ass, massaging her. She was moaning again; she could feel his erection against her belly. The soft sound of their groans filled the cell and the two were lost in one another. Finally, she placed a hand on his chest and eased them apart. He was breathing hard and didn't understand why the kissing had stopped. But she just smiled at him and used her free hand to brush some of the hair back from his brow. "Let me do this." she whispered.

The hunter was confused. The blood had long since rushed away from his brain. His eyes were locked on hers but she moved, breaking the trance. Daryl watched in amazement as she took a step back from him and then slowly sank to her knees. He felt his heart beating at an alarming rate as he stared down at her. "Wh…what are…" but she didn't let him finish the thought. In one swift move, she reached for his member, gripping it tight and holding it in place as she brought her mouth to the tip. Her tongue flicked out, warm and wet against the head of his cock and Daryl swore. A violent shiver worked its way up his spine and he had to fight to keep from bucking his hips. Her fingers were wrapped around his shaft and she was staring up at him through the gloom.

"Relax," she whispered, her warm breath hitting his cock.

He shivered again but managed a nod. She was inching closer to him, her grip secure. She licked him lightly, enjoying the way he trembled afterwards. "This is all about you…" she breathed before taking him into her mouth.

"Christ!" he moaned; he couldn't stop his hips from bucking this time, but she didn't seem to mind. The pressure from her mouth was incredible as she began to suck and Daryl knew this wouldn't last long. He bucked, pushing himself into her mouth, and she took him willingly. Her soft, wet tongue felt amazing on the underside of his shaft and he could already feel himself coming undone. "Car….I'm….I'm gonna…" he panted.

She pulled away from him and stared up into his eyes, her hand still wrapped around the base of his cock. "What? I thought this was what you wanted?" She kissed the tip and continued to stare up at him. "I thought you wanted me to go down…" she was smirking at him while she ran her hand along his shaft.

It was then that something seemed to click in the hunter's mind. There was something wrong…something about the words she'd just used…he didn't know what it was, but it worried him. A sense of panic filled him and just as she moved to take him back into her mouth…everything disappeared.

"Fuckin' christ!" Daryl growled, sitting up suddenly. His hands went to his face as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. After his breathing had slowed a bit, he became painfully aware of his erection. "The hell?" he sat, disoriented in the dark, and tried to puzzle out why he'd woken up with a hard-on in the middle of the night. Daryl hadn't dealt with this sort of thing since he was a teenager. And at least back then, he'd had the luxury of privacy in his own shitty bedroom. But he knew, in his current state, that he'd never make it out onto the walkway, all the way down the stairs and through the pitch black prison to the shower room…he had to take care of it in the cell. Grumbling and wincing, the hunter did his best to slide off the bunk and make his way towards the far corner where his belonging were stacked. As quietly as he could, Daryl searched through his bags until he found what he needed. He cast a nervous glance at the top bunk, but there was no movement; Carol was dead asleep.

Creeping back into his own bunk, Daryl eased under the thin sheet and let his head fall back against the pillow. His heart was beating hard and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so nervous, but he knew his problem wasn't going to resolve itself. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, hoping to get himself under control. But the moment he inhaled, the scent from the pillow seemed to surround him and it made his cock throb. "Lord…" he whined softly, hoping like hell that she couldn't hear him. He couldn't wait anymore. He fumbled with his zipper and quickly pushed his pants down. The instant Daryl's hand wrapped around his member, he shuddered. The tip of his cock was already dripping and his hips bucked weakly under the sheet. His lips were parted and his breaths were shallow as he began to stroke himself. As his calloused hand moved up and down his length, the hunter's reservations began to fade. He seemed to forget where he was; all that mattered was the incredible pressure that he didn't realize he'd missed since the world went to hell. His breathing picked up and he tugged at his cock, seeking the release he needed. Muffled groans and whines were escaping him and he started moving his hand faster, working himself up and down. Daryl was nearing the edge; his swollen member was jerking and leaking as he stroked it. The scent from the pillow was making him harder and he clenched his teeth, increasing the speed of his hand. His toes were curling and all he wanted was to come. Using his hand to create the friction he needed, the hunter turned his head, growling into his pillow. He worked harder, tugging at his cock and letting the soft scent from the pillow cloud his judgment. His hips continued to buck, making the bunk creak underneath him, but he didn't care. He just needed to finish. Losing himself in lust, Daryl threw the sheet back, exposing his lower half. He could feel it…the familiar rush… Everything seemed to slow to a drag; his lids were heavy and his mouth was open as he gave himself a few final strokes, in rapid succession, and felt the orgasm spilling from his cock. He bucked his hips, riding out the pleasure, and continued to run his hand along his shaft, milking himself.

As he lay throbbing in the blissful aftermath of orgasm, Daryl felt the sweat beginning to dry on his body. He swallowed hard and fumbled in the dark, reaching for the rag he'd found in his ruck sack. Still panting, he propped himself up on his elbows and carefully cleaned up the mess he'd made on his lower belly. After he'd hidden the rag under the bunk, he flopped onto his back and sighed, his eyes closing. His mind was hazy and the dream started to come back to him in bits and pieces. He remembered a familiar voice…Carol's voice…and she'd sunk to her knees in front of him…whispering something, but Daryl was too tired to analyze all of it. All he knew was that he felt better than he had in a long time. He was too tired to even pull his pants back up; he managed to grab the sheet, covering himself, but sleep claimed him before he could do anything else.

Carol was lying on her back and staring at the grey ceiling. Her hands were resting on her stomach and she was completely still, almost frozen. The weak light of dawn was filtering into the prison, but the majority of its occupants were still asleep. She'd been staring at the same spot on the ceiling for what seemed like hours. She was afraid to move...to make a sound. She had no idea what she was going to say to him when he woke up…if she even said anything at all. She heard him…she heard everything….

The cell was fairly small and sound tended to echo, bouncing off the concrete walls. It started out as soft whimpering during the night. She'd woken from her sleep and heard his muffled sounds from the bottom bunk. At first, she thought he was having a bad dream, but then he swore… She'd lain still in her own bunk, agonizing over whether or not to wake him. She heard him cursing in his sleep and she nearly climbed down the ladder to see if he was alright, but then he moaned. She heard Daryl Dixon moan and the sound made her core hurt. In an instant, she realized that whatever dream he was having…he probably didn't want to be woken from it. A hot flush had spread across her cheeks and she was forced to lie still above him. He was so reluctant to engage in any sort of physical contact with others that the thought of him having normal, sexual urges was incredibly startling and intriguing. So she did the only thing she could….she listened. She could hear his ragged breathing, his soft groans, and the way he mumbled things under his breath. Carol knew it was wrong; she shouldn't be listening, but it wasn't as if she had many options. She wasn't about to wake him up and risk embarrassment that neither of them would ever recover from. And even though she hated to admit it…it was sexy. She was physically frustrated, and if listening to him get off was as close as she could come to actual release, then she would take it. She had to control her breathing and it was taking absolutely all of her will power to keep her hands away from her waist band. It was bad enough that she was listening to him…she wasn't going to add to her own guilt by touching herself.

But then something changed. She heard the bunk creak as he sat up. He was muttering to himself and swearing softly. Carol couldn't help but wonder if it was for the best. All of his sounds were making her restless and she needed to get back to sleep. She swallowed hard and rolled onto her side as quietly as she could. She really was making a valiant effort to relax and get back to sleep, but then she heard him leaving his bunk and he was padding across the cell, rifling through his things. Carol's brows knit together as she stared at the wall and wondered what the hell he was doing. The bottom bunk creaked again and she heard the rustling of sheets as he worked to get comfortable.

Good…he's going back to bed…maybe that'll be the end of it

But it wasn't the end. She heard the tiny, metal teeth of his zipper separating and her core grew painfully tight. Her lips parted in awe and her heart was thrumming in her chest.

That's it…I need to let him know I'm awake..I can't just let him…

"Lord…" Daryl whined.

Carol had to bite her knuckle to keep from groaning right along with him. She tried to stay calm and focus on the grey wall, but her body was reacting to the sounds coming from the bottom bunk. She could hear grunts and growls escaping him, in a continuous pattern, and that's when she knew what he was doing. His bunk was creaking and she marveled at the fact that he'd become so completely engrossed in whatever it was that had taken hold of him. Suddenly, she found herself eagerly awaiting his climax. She wanted to hear him finish. Knowing that he was underneath her…touching himself, was almost too much to bear. Carol was tempted to slip her hand down into her panties, but she held herself back. One knuckle was still caught between her teeth and her other hand was clutching desperately at the sheet beneath her.

Don't move…if you move, he'll hear you…

She listened to the voice in her head and remained still, enjoying the sounds of his pleasure. She heard every moan, every curse that slipped from between his lips…every creak of his bunk…every strained breath…. Her body was nearly vibrating with want as she listened. Carol could hear him losing control. There was more creaking, panting and whining…he seemed to be moving faster. She was silently mouthing 'yes' into her pillow and she wished she had the courage to say it out loud…to let him know that she was awake, alive, and more than willing to help with any needs he might have. Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, she heard Daryl release a long, groan of satisfaction…and then the creaking stopped. The cell was filled with the sound of his panting and Carol was having trouble accepting the fact that he'd reached his peak…right below her. In all her years, she was sure that nothing had ever aroused her more than the sound of Daryl Dixon pleasuring himself in their cell. She knew, in that moment, that she would have to make time for herself. She couldn't continue to live with him, in such a small space, without relieving some of her own tension. She just wasn't sure when she would have the opportunity.

Finding a time and a place to take care of herself was just one of the many thoughts that had been crowding Carol's mind all night. She was never able to get back to sleep after Daryl's…incident. So now she lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.

What the hell do I say to him?

She knew Daryl. He would be mortified if he knew that she'd heard him.

Maybe I should just pretend it never happened. Just move on…

The thought was tempting but Carol had her doubts.

What if it happens again? What if it keeps happening? I can't just spend my nights laying awake, listening to him jack off…

She drummed her fingers on her stomach, wishing that the rest of the cell block would wake up.

I can take late watch…

But that wouldn't work either. Carol had too many other responsibilities. She could take night watch occasionally, but not every night…she had things that she needed to take care of during the day and she would be useless if she couldn't sleep.

I could tell him that it's not working…that he needs to find another cell…

Carol frowned at the ceiling. The only thing harder than sharing with him would be watching him leave. Frustrated, and out of answers…she fell back on the saving grace of every wishful thinker…

Maybe it was a fluke and the whole thing will just work itself out. I'm reading too much into this…everyone has those kinds of dreams once in a while…

As she lay there, re-hashing the evening's events in her mind, Carol couldn't help but wonder who'd been starring in Daryl's dream. The man was so closed-off…so secretive, that it was difficult for her to imagine him developing a physical attraction to anyone. For one foolish second, she entertained the possibility that it had been her… She figured it wasn't likely, but it wasn't entirely absurd either. They shared a small space and spent a fair amount of their free time together…she supposed there was a slim chance that it could've been her…but then she snorted, shaking her head.

Right.

A chuckle escaped her and she brought one hand up to cup her forehead.

This is why you need sleep…

She sighed, dismissing the ridiculous thoughts. Sensing that the best course of action would be to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place, Carol decided to quit agonizing over the whole thing and just start her day. She sat up, stretched, and ran her hands through her mussed hair as she yawned.

Just forget about it…at least for now.

Her limbs were stiff and aching as she made her way to the ladder and climbed down. With her foot on the last rung, she paused and looked at her sleeping cellmate. He was on his side, the sheet tangled around his waist. She smiled at the look on his face…the look of someone who'd slept well and didn't plan to wake up anytime soon. His dark, messy hair was sticking up in every direction and he seemed so peaceful. There was something cute about seeing him in that small bunk, with a pillow tucked under his head. She glanced at the dusting of hair on his chest and the tattoo above his heart. Her eyes roamed from his shoulder, down along his side…and then the white sheet was hiding the rest of him. She rubbed her eyes, trying to get herself to focus.

Leave him be.

Giving his sleeping form one last, lingering look, Carol made a decision. She could handle it. If this was her view every morning…if she had a second to see him like that, sound asleep and content at the start of each new day, she could find a way to deal with whatever transpired at night. With her mind made up, she stepped down off the ladder and stretched her arms above her head. She needed some time, away from the cell and away from Daryl. But first, she needed to change. Her sleep shirt was rumpled, stained, and she was wearing a pair of sweatpants that were too big for her. She pressed her hands into her lower back, rubbing the aching muscles and then moved towards the far wall where her bags were arranged.

Daryl heard her when she started climbing down the ladder. His eyes eased open and he blinked against the invading light. He still wasn't sure about what happened the night before but he sure as hell wasn't ready for human interaction just yet. So he closed his eyes again and pretended to be asleep just to avoid conversation. He'd never been much of a people person and being woken up at the crack of dawn wasn't helping matters. He tried to keep his breathing slow and even, to convince her that he was asleep, and the charade seemed to work. She stepped off the ladder without so much as a word. As he lay in his bunk, Daryl wondered how hard it would be to go back to sleep; given the previous day's frustrations, he wasn't eager to leave his bed. He heard Carol moving around, searching through her belongings.

With his eyes closed and the warmth of the bunk surrounding him, the hunter was ready to let sleep take him again…but then he heard the rustling of clothes. He swallowed hard and felt his muscles tensing. Carol was grunting softly and Daryl couldn't help himself; he had to see. He slowly, cautiously opened his eyes and found himself staring at her back. She was standing in the center of the cell, pulling an oversized sleep-shirt over her head. He stared at the creamy, pale skin that was now on display for him and noticed that there was no bra strap across her back.

She don't wear one to bed?

That thought was intriguing and Daryl found that he was suddenly very awake. He watched through narrowed eyes as she bent over to pick something up off the ground. Even with those pants, he could tell she had a good ass. He bit his lip, forcing himself to keep quiet. When she stood back up, she was slipping on a bra. He watched her hands as she struggled to fasten the clasp behind her back.

Fuckin' quit…ya got no right to look at her while she's changin'…

But the words weren't enough to make him close his eyes. When she'd finished with the clasp, her hands moved to her waist band. Before she could even push the sweats down, he felt blood rushing to his cock.

Fuck

All he could do was stare as she pushed the pants down, past her hips, lower, down her thighs…even lower, until she was stepping out of them. He bit his lip harder as his member continued to swell. He wanted to tell her to stop…or make himself quit looking, but he couldn't. Daryl found that in this area, he was weak-willed; there was nothing he could do or say without upsetting her. So he lay still, scarcely daring to breathe. Carol kicked the sweat pants aside and then she was bending over again. The hunter's teeth sank into his lip so hard he could taste blood. His eyes were trained on her ass…on her panties, and the firm flesh they were hiding. He wanted to reach out and touch her, grab her…but he knew he couldn't. He eyed her long, tone legs…from her feet, up to her perfect calves, higher, to the backs of her pale thighs and then to that tight ass. As he lay there suffering, Daryl couldn't help but wonder where that body had come from…

She just been hidin' it all this time?

He blinked when he saw her pulling the cargo pants up her legs. They were the same olive-green ones that she always wore, but Daryl had a new appreciation for them. He watched her as she shimmied her way into the pants…they seemed to fit her just right, they might've even been a little snug, but Daryl didn't mind. He loved the way her ass looked in them and it was hard to believe that the day before, he'd had that ass, in those pants, pressed up against him as they taught their self-defense class. His erection was getting painful and he suddenly realized that he'd failed to pull his own pants up after his moment of weakness the night before.

The pants were low on his hips, where he'd left them, and his hard-on would be glaringly obvious, beneath the sheet, if Carol happened to turn around. Silently cursing himself, his own stupidity, and Carol, he rolled carefully onto his stomach, smothering his need.

Carol heard him moving and quickly pulled a shirt over her head before turning to face him. "You up?" she asked softly as she grabbed her belt and worked it through the loops.

Daryl's growls of frustration were muffled by his pillow. He didn't find the irony of her question amusing. "I am now." he said. It was uncomfortable to lie there with his arousal pressed down against the bunk, but he knew that his pain was the price he paid for leering at her like a pervert.

Carol did her best to smooth her hair and then moved towards their privacy curtain. "I'm gonna get cleaned up and then see about breakfast. Want me to bring you something?"

He sighed into his pillow and refused to look at her. "I'm good. You go on."

"Alright," she said. "As long as you're sure." With that, she pushed the hanging sheet aside and disappeared out onto the walkway.

When the sound of her footsteps began to fade, Daryl rolled onto his back and sighed. He reached up, running his hands over his face in exasperation. His fingers went back, into his long hair and he tugged weakly.

The hell is wrong with you? That woman ain't done nothin' but treat ya right…she gave up her damn bunk for your sorry ass and you think you're gonna lie in bed starin' at her while she changes? Can't let that shit happen again. It ain't right. Carol don't need that.

The hunter was used to this sort of thing…internal arguments with the angry voice in his head. He'd spent most of his life being chided, yelled at, punished, scolded, and beaten… As a child, it seemed like anything Daryl did resulted in a belt across his back or a boot in his ribs. He'd been taught to believe that he deserved every stripe and every bruise. He knew that things were different now…he had a family…. a purpose…people depended on him…they trusted him. But there were still times when the hunter felt like the same scared, sniveling little boy who sat shaking on the floor…his eyes slammed shut as he braced himself for the bite of leather across his back. Like Carol, he had a strong sense of guilt and shame when it came to things that brought him any sort of pleasure or happiness.

As he lay in the bunk, struggling mentally and physically, Daryl suddenly seemed to remember what started all this….

The damn dream…

Just the memory of her, kneeling in front of him, was enough to make the hunter shiver. And the way she'd used her mouth…

Fuck…

Daryl tugged sharply at his hair.

It ain't right….it ain't….

He didn't know why this was happening to him. He'd gone so long without needing any sort of physical release and now he was in too much pain to even leave his bunk. Daryl was still struggling to process the fact that he'd dreamt about her like that…and that just seeing her change clothes had such an intense, immediate effect on him. They'd known each other since the beginning…since Atlanta fell… He couldn't understand why she was suddenly appearing in his dreams, or why her body was suddenly fascinating. He found himself thinking about her ass again and his cock throbbed. Daryl swore under his breath as one hand went down to wrap around his member. As soon as he applied pressure, his eyes closed and his head went back into the pillow. He knew it was wrong…but he didn't have a choice. His body was demanding attention and he just wanted the pain to go away. The hunter slowly began stroking his length, under the sheet, and his hazy mind produced an answer to the problem….

Just stay away from her…

As his calloused hand continued to move, making his breath catch, Daryl made a silent vow. He would do everything in his power to avoid her, at least until he could get himself under control. He would avoid eye contact, physical contact, and take watch shifts when he knew she'd be sleeping. Daryl gripped himself tighter and grunted.

Just…leave her be…keep that woman outta your head….

He knew that part would be easier said than done, especially since he was picturing her as he lay there…He was thinking about those long legs of hers and how they might feel if they were wrapped around his waist.

This is the last time…ya can't be thinkin' about her like this…

So he kept his eyes closed and focused on the pictures in his head, knowing that once he finished, he needed to put the whole thing to bed.

No more…this is the last time….

Daryl was doing his absolute best to keep the promise he'd made to himself. It was the seventh day of their new living arrangement and he'd been running himself ragged. He took on extra responsibilities whenever he could…late watch shifts, weapons training, fence duty, even laundry when he got desperate enough. He just needed to stay away from her.

If Carol knew that he was purposely avoiding her, she didn't let on. Whenever their paths happened to cross, she treated him just as she always had. She was kind, patient, focused on her work. He tried to limit their interaction as much as possible. He'd offer a nod in place of a standard greeting, and he fumbled with flimsy excuses whenever she tried to engage him in conversation. But Carol didn't question his actions, and for that, he was grateful.

Despite Daryl's valiant efforts to keep himself distracted and distance himself from Carol, she still managed to appear in his dreams….every night. The first dream…the one where she knelt in front of him, seemed almost tame now. There had been three more since then…each one more graphic than the last… The hunter was sitting on the edge of his bunk, sighing, as he recalled the dream he'd had last night. She was on top of him, clawing his chest…her hips moving against his as she urged him to come… Daryl had woken up suddenly, after hitting his peak, and was left with the unpleasant task of cleaning up another mess… He ran a hand through his hair and marveled at the fact that he hadn't woken her, even when he smacked his head on the bottom of her bunk.

It ain't workin'….

His hands were gripping the edge of the bunk as he tried to determine his next move.

Ya gotta leave…

He didn't like that option; he'd been avoiding it for the last few days. Daryl knew that if he moved out of their cell, it would hurt her…she wouldn't understand. But it seemed like relocating was the only choice he had left. So he sat on the bunk, his head hanging low, and waited on her to get back from her watch shift. He was going to make himself talk to her. But nerves were getting the best of him. He brought his elbows to rest on his knees; his hands were clasped and one of his legs was shaking a little. He felt restless, anxious, and wondered what he was going to say to her when she showed up.

Carol wasn't sure what changed between them. Ever since the night she'd heard Daryl touching himself, the man was a ghost. His watch schedule changed and he hardly spoke two words to her during the day. He didn't seem angry, but something was definitely wrong. Anytime she came to the cell, he was on his way out. He took meals during his watch shifts, opting to eat alone instead of joining the others for dinner as was the custom for most of the survivors. He'd done a few more self-defense demonstrations, but each time Rick asked her to help, she kindly said no, assuring their leader that Daryl could handle the refugees on his own. Carol was smart enough to know when the hunter needed space and she didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

As she made her way up the metal stairs, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd done something to upset him…without realizing. She knew he wasn't the type to share a small space with anyone for very long, and all things considered, she figured he was doing as well as could be expected. Carol wanted him to know that he wasn't just a guest…it was his cell too. He could come and go as he pleased and she had no intention of getting in the way. In the spirit of friendship, and acceptance of each other's quirks, she'd snagged something from one of the refugees, hoping to ease some of the tension that had formed between her and her cellmate.

Carol stood outside their cell and called out softly, as she always did before entering. "Hey? Can I come in? Are you decent?" she smiled, hoping that her tone would let him know she was only teasing.

Daryl cleared his throat before answering. "I'm good. C'mon."

She pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the cell, letting the sheet fall behind her. She saw that he was sitting on the edge of his bunk, his hands clasped under his chin, and he looked strangely uncomfortable…nervous even. Her brows knit together. "You okay?" she asked.

He swallowed hard and managed a nod. "Jus'…got somethin' on my mind."

She waited, thinking he might elaborate…but he didn't. It was getting late, most of the survivors were turning in for the night. She glanced at the end table and saw that Daryl had turned up the gas lamp, giving their cell a warm glow. "Well, I'm sure whatever it is…you'll work it out. Don't let it get to you." she said.

Daryl eyed her; she was still standing in the center of the cell, and her hands were hidden behind her back.

"Wasn't sure I'd catch you." said Carol, as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "You don't have watch tonight?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nah…switched with Glenn…figured we should talk."

"Sure." she said. "What did you wanna talk about?" she was worried about where their conversation might be headed.

The hunter continued to rub his neck as he stared at her. Now that they were finally in the same space, he couldn't find the words. She'd opened her cell to him…made him feel welcome, and now he was going to throw it back in her face. Daryl gnawed his lip, unsure of how to tell her what he was thinking.

An uncomfortable silence fell over them and Carol could see the pained expression on his face. She swallowed hard, trying to remain calm, and then remembered the whole reason she'd wanted to catch him. "Hey…" she said, trying to sound optimistic.

He glanced up at her.

"I realized something today."

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's been seven days."

He stared at her, a crease forming in his brow.

"Since you moved in." she explained, a soft smile on her face. "We've been sharing the cell for a whole week now."

Some of his anxiety seemed to melt away as he studied the smile on her face. She wasn't angry with him. He should've known better; Carol was one of the easiest people to talk to and he knew that she would accept his decision if he chose to move out. He breathed a sigh of relief and ran a hand through his hair. "Guess we have."

She chuckled. "Bet you didn't think we'd make it seven days."

His elbows were resting on his knees again. "I had my doubts."

"Well," she added, taking a step towards him. "I think that sharing a cell with someone is no small feat, and I figure we've earned the right to celebrate a little." She pulled the bottle from behind her back and offered it to him. "Happy anniversary." she smirked.

Daryl's eyes flicked from her face, to the glass bottle she was handing him. "Bourbon?" he asked as he carefully took the bottle and studied the label.

She blushed a little and folded her arms across her chest. "I know it's been hard on you….sharing your space…and I just thought…it might be nice to unwind once in a while."

"Where'd ya get this?" he asked.

She sighed, sinking down onto the bunk to sit next to him. "Bob."

Daryl snorted. "Knew that asshole was a boozer."

She chuckled. "He'd been hanging onto it for a while and I guess he just didn't want the temptation any more…he's trying."

"Right." Daryl said, still eyeing the bottle in his lap. "Makes ya wonder what else he's got in his cell."

She sighed again and looked at him. "If you don't want it…I'm sure I can find someone to take it off our hands.."

He met her gaze. "I didn't say that…"

Carol smiled. "Well alright then. Get the stick out of your ass."

His lips parted in disbelief. "I got a stick up my ass?"

She laughed. "Yes. You do. But I think this will help." she glanced at the bottle he was holding.

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "So if I had watch…it would just be your scrawny ass in here, drinkin' alone?"

She bit her lip, feeling her cheeks get warm. "I wasn't planning to get hammered, if that's what you're implying. But I don't see anything wrong with having a shot now and then."

He snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Think of it as….a housewarming gift." she said, smiling.

The hunter couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"So you gonna crack that open or did you just wanna read the label a few more times?" she asked.

He eyed her, "Rick's gonna be on our assess if we both got hangovers in the mornin'."

She ran her hands over her face and blinked. "No one's talking about getting wasted…Jesus. I just think we both do a lot around here, and we deserve a break every now and then. That's all."

Daryl continued to stare at her through narrowed eyes. "Why do I feel like I got the damn devil on my shoulder?"

Carol laughed. "Forget it. I'm not trying to pressure you. Hand it over." she gestured to the bottle.

He held up one hand, warding her off. "Hang on…" he said. With the tip of his tongue resting between his lips, Daryl unscrewed the lid. When he finally handed her the bottle, there was judgment in his eyes. "Go on then…"

She accepted the offering, her fingers curling anxiously around the neck of the bottle. Before her nerves could overtake her, Carol took a sip of the amber colored liquid and winced, her eyes slamming shut as she felt the liquor burning a hole in her chest. She covered her mouth and coughed as she handed the bottle back to him.

Daryl snorted, chuckling at her. "How was it?"

She blinked several times before meeting his gaze. "It's fine. I just haven't had a drink in a while." she coughed again.

"No shit." he said before lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a pull. The liquor burned all the way down and he growled, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist.

"Guessing it's been a while for you too." she laughed.

He smirked and tried to remember the last time anything had tasted so good. The liquor was strong and seemed to go right to his head, but he liked the way it felt. "I'm just outta practice." he said. "First shot's always the worst…"

"Let's test that theory." she chuckled, reaching across him to grab the bottle. He grudgingly let her take it. When she took her second pull, Carol found that he'd been right….it didn't sting quite as much as the first, and she was actually able to enjoy the taste. She still coughed a little, much to Daryl's amusement, but she managed to hand the bottle back to him. "That was better." she laughed.

He took a quick swig and nodded. "Yeah…it was."

They both chuckled at that and Daryl leaned forward to set the bottle down on the floor. They sat quietly for a few moments, letting the liquor warm their blood. It was the hunter who finally spoke up. "Sure this ain't botherin' ya?" he asked.

She smiled at him. "I'm sure. I think we do a good job of staying out of each other's hair." Carol sighed, rubbing her neck. "You're easy to live with."

He glanced at her. They were sitting side by side on the edge of his bunk and their hips were touching. There was doubt etched into his features.

Carol met his gaze, hoping to make him understand that she meant what she'd said. "Really. You are." Without thinking, she let her hand rest on his knee.

He tensed slightly but didn't make her move. His eyes were trained on her hand and he was trying to figure out what to do about it. But in the next instant she was giving his knee a soft pat and withdrawing her hand. "Ya ain't sick of me yet?" he asked.

She chuckled and shook her head. "Why; are you sick of me?" she asked.

"Naw," he answered faster than he meant to, a blush forming on his cheeks. He hung his head, and focused on his scuffed boots.

The temperature in the cell seemed to be rising and Carol nudged his shoulder with hers. "Wanna hand me that?"

He followed her gaze and saw that the bottle was sitting idle on the floor, between their feet. "You ain't done yet?" he asked.

She laughed. "No."

He shook his head as he reached down and grabbed the bottle. "Fine." he sat back up and handed her the bourbon.

She giggled before taking another pull. The liquor was already beginning to cloud her judgment. She felt warm, light-headed, and everything seemed funny all of a sudden. When she pulled the bottle away from her lips, she smirked at Daryl. "I think you've got some catching up to do." she said.

He snatched the bottle back and eyed her. "Ain't nothin' good ever came from doin' shots of bourbon with a light-weight."

Her brows knit together and her lips parted in disbelief. "I'm a light-weight? How did you arrive at that conclusion?"

He chuckled and took a good swig. "Well first off, ya just about choked after that first shot…"

"So did you!" she argued.

He snorted, setting the bottle down again. "What do you weigh? Ninety pounds soakin' wet? That shit's gonna have you on your ass in a minute."

Carol couldn't help the laugh that burst from her lips, she leaned forward, cradling her head in her hands. "Ninety pounds? Really?"

Daryl ran a broad hand through his hair and chuckled.

This was a bad idea…

They were both laughing and she sat back up, wiping at the tears that had formed in the corner of her eyes. "God….maybe you're right." she sighed.

"Bout what?" he asked.

"I think I should've stopped after two shots." she sighed happily and leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder.

Daryl felt his heart rate speed up the moment she touched him. Normally, he'd push her away…distance himself, but right then…in the privacy of their cell, he found that he liked having her close. It felt nice to have her leaning against him. He could smell the soft scent of her hair and it was making his lids heavy.

Carol wasn't sure what she was doing; she knew that Daryl wasn't one for touching, but in her current state…she didn't care. Her head was swimming and she needed to lean on something…he was close, and warm…safe. The liquor seemed to be sloshing in her brain and suddenly she was flopping onto her back, giggling.

Daryl twisted his body and stared down at her. "Ya alright?"

Her face was flushed as she gazed up at him. "I'm great. You should join me."

For a moment, the hunter wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. But she was smiling at him…waiting on him… Taking a deep breath, Daryl eased down onto his back and the two of them laid there…side by side, with their legs hanging off the edge of the bunk. Their hands were resting on their stomachs as they both stared at the underside of Carol's bunk.

After a few minutes of silence, Carol turned her head and looked at him.

"What?" he asked, staring back at her.

She smirked. "What's the hardest part of living with me?"

Daryl blinked, unsure of what to say.

"Come on," she nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. "I know this hasn't been a cake walk for you. You never wanted to sleep in a cage."

He sighed and continued staring at the underside of her bunk. "You're a nag."

She propped herself up on her elbows and narrowed her eyes at him. "Excuse me?"

"About laundry." He explained. "And you're always on my ass about eatin'."

She huffed. "That's because if I didn't nag you, you wouldn't eat…and you'd be wearing the same filthy clothes that you've had since the turn…"

He couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. "Didn't hit a nerve did I?" he asked.

Carol reached over to swat his arm, making him laugh harder.

"Fine," said Daryl. "What's the hardest part about havin' me here?"

"Hang on…" she said as she sat up and leaned forward, grabbing the bottle from the floor. She took a quick pull before handing it to him. He took it from her and watched as she flopped onto her back again. Carol had one arm folded behind her head while the other was resting across her belly. Her mind was hazy and she was staring dreamily up at her bunk while a lazy smile spread across her face. "Your smell."

A deep crease formed in the hunter's brow. "I ain't that bad…" he huffed. Daryl propped himself up on his elbows and took another long pull from the bottle. When he was finished he mimicked Carol's actions…leaning forward to set the bottle down on the floor. He eased back down beside her and was prepared to offer up a better argument, but she didn't let him.

"No," she chuckled. "It's good…I like it."

He stared at the woman beside him, his eyes questioning her.

She turned her head to face him and they held each other's gazes. "I like the way you smell…but it's distracting." she giggled, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

Even with the alcohol impairing his judgment, Daryl was able to find logic in her words. He remembered the way it made him feel when he pulled the scent of his pillow into his lungs…when he brought the sheet to his nose and found that it smelled like her… He understood. The idea that she felt the same way he did…was difficult to process..and the bourbon certainly wasn't helping.

She was still looking at him, her blue eyes trained on his face. "Sometimes, it's hard to sleep…knowing you're here…" she said. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Carol wondered if she was saying too much…if she might be revealing something that should probably be kept secret…but the liquor had loosened her lips and reservations were fading quickly.

Daryl swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. "I…I can leave…" he offered.

But Carol reached for one of his hands and held it gently between her own. "Don't….please. I just…" she paused, licking her lips and searching for the right words. "I like having you here."

The hunter glanced down at the soft, pale hand that was now wrapped around his. When his eyes returned to her face, he felt his heart beat a little bit faster. "I don't want ya losin' sleep…" he growled softly.

She smiled at him. "I think the bourbon can help with that."

They both chuckled, neither of them realizing that she was still holding one of his hands. Their lids were heavy and their minds were wandering. "Can't have ya turnin' into a boozer." he said. "Drinkin' every night till ya can't see straight."

She laughed. "Fine. Then what would you suggest? As a healthy alternative?"

His thumb was absently rubbing her hand but neither of them seemed to mind. "For gettin' to sleep?" he asked.

She bit her lip and nodded, her blue eyes shining.

Daryl was staring up at her bunk, but his thoughts were elsewhere. If he were being honest with himself, the only thing that had helped him fall asleep the last few nights had been physical release. He couldn't very well admit that or tell Carol to do it…so he kept his mouth shut and tried to push the unwelcome thoughts from his head.

Carol was getting impatient. She rolled onto her side and stared at him. "Well?"

He glanced at her, and the smile on her face made him feel warm…or maybe it was just the bourbon. "Naw…" he muttered, hoping she would just let the whole thing go.

"Come on," she urged, squeezing his hand. "Just gimme the first thing that pops into your head…unless you want me to turn to alcohol…" she laughed.

He swallowed hard and tried to remember how many shots they'd had. Thoughts were spinning in his skull, gradually forming sentences…and then, before he could stop them, actual words were tripping off the end of his tongue. "If ya really wanna fall asleep quick…you could always…"

"What?" she asked, inching closer to him, her eyes bright and curious.

But the proximity was proving too much for him and he shook his head. "Nothin'. Never mind."

She was lying on her side, propped on one elbow as she stared down at him. Carol suddenly noticed the hint of color on his cheeks and her smile widened. "You're blushing…" she said.

He huffed, doing his best to focus on the underside of her bunk. "I'm not."

"You are." she insisted. "What were you going to tell me?"

Daryl could feel sweat forming at his temples and he was seriously regretting that first shot… "Nothin'. Just forget it."

"What on earth could possibly be bad enough to make Daryl Dixon blush?" she said, eyeing him.

He finally had to sit up; he needed to make her listen. Carol sat up when he did and they stared at one another. He wanted to get her to stop all this…the two of them should just put the bottle away and call it a night…but when he looked at her, Daryl lost his train of thought. She was sitting so close to him and the soft light from the lantern made her look like she was glowing. Her hair was a little mussed and her cheeks were flushed. There was a smirk on her mouth and her blue eyes were so vibrant. He noticed the low neckline of her shirt and could see the slight dip where her cleavage began. In that moment, Daryl found that he wanted her. He wanted to have her the way he did in his dreams. His eyes roamed from her chest, back up to her face.

Neither of them spoke…they were transfixed…suddenly mesmerized by one another and their mouths were going dry. Carol could hardly breathe. The way he was staring at her…it made her feel naked. The temperature in the cell was rising fast and she swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure. But his blue-grey eyes were cutting into her, making her heart pound….and Carol couldn't take it anymore. She reached up, placing one hand on his chest, and used it to push him onto his back. She didn't give him a chance to say anything before she crawled over him…her body hovering above his. Their chests were heaving as they watched one another and his hands went to her hips, holding her in place. She was tempted to straddle him, but she worried that the contact might be too much. So she settled for looming over him as his hands moved along her sides. "What were you going to say?" she asked, the words coming out as breathy whispers.

Daryl's mind was fumbling for an answer…he couldn't quite grasp whatever had just taken place between them. Seconds ago…they were talking…but then she pushed him and now she was there…looking down at him. His hands had gone to her hips automatically and he had a good grip on her body. She was hovering over him, but he wanted her closer… He barely registered the fact that she'd asked him a question.

"What were you going to say?" she repeated.

The hunter could feel blood rushing to his groin. "Touch yourself." he growled. He hadn't meant to say the words out loud, but it was too late to take them back.

Carol stared at him in disbelief. "What?" she asked, breathless.

His hands were moving slowly along her sides and his eyes were trained on her face. "It'll help ya sleep." he growled.

Carol's palms were splaying on the bunk, on either side of his head and she was staring at him as if he were speaking another language.

Daryl needed more contact; he sat up and used his grip on Carol's body to keep her in his lap. Her legs wrapped around him instantly and her hands were clutching at his shoulders. Their breathing had picked and they were intently focused on one another. The feeling of her groin pressed against his was so wanted…so welcome, and Daryl had to fight to maintain control. He was still gripping her hips. As they sat, tangled together in his bunk, the hunter decided to let go. He was tired of hiding from her…avoiding her. He wanted to be close…to touch her and have her touch him. The bourbon was coursing through his veins, fueling his need for her and he just couldn't hide anymore. He licked his chapped lips and stared at her mouth. "If ya come…you'll fall asleep." he said, his voice like gravel.

Carol felt warmth hit her core the instant those words left his mouth. She rocked her hips gently, just to get a reaction out of him, and he tightened his grip on her body, his eyes narrowing. Her lips parted when she felt the stirring below his waist. She moved her hands into his long hair and pulled him closer to her. Their lips didn't meet, but Carol found that the anticipation was incredible. She combed her fingers through his hair and whispered to him. "Is that what works for you?"

Daryl was past the point of caring; he answered her without hesitation. "Yeah." He could feel his cock getting harder underneath her. He slipped his hands under her shirt and ran them up and down her sides, savoring the warm flesh. "I think about ya at night." he said.

Carol couldn't believe that any of this was actually happening. She rocked her hips again, loving the way he groaned in response. She couldn't help herself…that sexy sound reminded her of the night she'd lain awake listening to him….Carol pulled him closer and kissed his jaw. "Do you touch yourself?" she asked, before moving to his neck and sucking at the salty flesh she found there. "When you think about me?" She sucked his neck again and felt his manhood going rigid between her legs.

Daryl was breathing harder. His hands moved quickly, down along her sides, past her hips until he was clutching at her ass. He swallowed hard and managed a nod.

"I think about you too." she whispered as she gently sucked his ear lobe.

The hunter eased them apart so that he could look at her. Dark hair was hanging in his eyes as he stared at her from beneath his lashes.

She smirked at him and used one hand to push some of the hair back from his brow. Before he could stop himself, Daryl was speaking again. "I wanna watch ya." He gripped her shirt by the hem and started to pull it up.

Carol lifted her arms, helping him as he tore the shirt from her body and let it fall to the floor. "Watch me?" she asked, knowing what he meant but wanting to hear him explain it anyway.

He swallowed hard, his hands going to her breasts. He squeezed her, making her whine. She rocked her hips against him and clawed at his shoulders. Carol had never experienced arousal like this…her entire body seemed to come to life when he touched her. "Harder.." she pleaded, her eyes closed and her head going back.

Daryl grunted, applying more pressure. He was massaging her breasts and hating the fact that her bra was in the way. "Get it off…" he growled.

Carol was nearly panting as she reached around to her back and fumbled with the clasp. The instant she felt the ends spring apart, she slipped the bra straps down her arms and let it drop. Daryl's hands finally cupped her bare flesh and they both groaned. His calloused palms surrounded her breasts and he squeezed them…softly at first, then harder as her hips continued to move against his. Her fingers were lost in his hair and she was resting her head in the crook of his neck. "God…" she whined.

Daryl loved the way she filled his palms…the soft, warm flesh felt so good in his hands and every time he squeezed her, she gasped. He continued to massage her as he whispered into her hair. "I wanna watch ya."

"Watch me what?" she moaned.

"Touch yourself." He kissed her bare shoulder and tugged at her nipples.

Carol felt herself get wet…but Daryl wasn't waiting for an answer, he eased her off of his lap and pushed her down onto the bunk. The hunter stood on weak legs and stared down at her. His hands went to his belt as he worked to unfasten the buckle.

Carol's chest was heaving. This was all too much too soon…but she wanted it…she wanted him. While Daryl worked on his belt, she focused on getting her boots off and her pants down. She was struggling and Daryl moved to the edge of the bunk to help her. He leaned down, grabbing her boots and helping to pull them from her feet. She pushed the cargo pants down past her hips and Daryl clutched the fabric, yanking it the rest of the way down. She was lying in his bunk, in nothing more than a pair of cotton panties, and every last nerve ending was vibrating.

Daryl was standing again; he braced one hand on the top bunk while the other tugged at his zipper. Carol felt nervous, exposed and alive as she watched him. His eyes flicked to her panties and he nodded to her. "Take 'em off….please…" he added. "I jus' wanna see ya."

She swallowed hard and obeyed, her thumbs hooking into her panties as she slid them down her long legs and flicked them off the ends of her feet.

Daryl couldn't believe what he was seeing. Minutes ago, they'd just been two friends…cellmates talking…and now there was a naked woman lying in his bunk…her panties were on the floor. He could feel his cock dripping and he pulled his zipper down, freeing his hard-on. He wrapped his free hand around his member and kept a growl locked behind his lips. The hunter's feral eyes were trained on the woman in his bed.

Carol's heart seemed to skip a beat when she finally saw him. By the light of the lantern, she could make out the healthy size of his manhood.

God…

The thought of him inside her was enough to make Carol's walls open and her hand began sliding down her belly towards her core.

"Fuck…" Daryl growled, tugging at himself as he watched her.

Carol was on her back, her legs raised and bent at the knee. She kept her face turned towards him. With one finger, she slowly circled her clit, making her own hips buck weakly on the bed. "Like this?" she asked.

The hunter nodded. "Keep goin'…"

Her eyes were locked on his as she continued to circle her clit. She was using two fingers now, applying a gentle pressure to the aching nub of her sex. Each time she rubbed it, Carol gasped, and imagined that it was his fingers on her body. Sweat was breaking out on her skin and her hips were still bucking as she teased herself. She could feel moisture building between her legs.

Daryl's grip was tightening on the top bunk as he watched her. Her body was toned, lithe, and every little movement made him harder. Whenever she arched her back, he would let a hushed swear fall from his lips. He wanted to be the one making her hips buck and her back arch…he wanted to make those little gasps and pants come from her sweet mouth…but he couldn't deny the incredible pleasure of watching her. He'd never seen a woman do this he found that he liked it. He studied the way her fingertips circled her clit and he wondered what she must be feeling. "That feel good?" he asked between ragged breaths.

Carol was getting lost in lust and pleasure. She arched her back again and pressed down harder on her clit. "Yes," she groaned, her eyes closing for a moment. "God…this is the only way I've ever been able to comeI need this…" Her hips were still bucking as her hand moved faster.

Daryl stopped stroking himself and stared hard at the woman in his bunk. "What?"

Her eyes eased open and she looked up at him, her chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. "My husband….he" she tried to slow her breathing, but her body was vibrating with need. "He never satisfied me…"

The hunter gave himself one more good pull before he released the top bunk and crouched down until he was eye level with Carol. "Ya tryin' to tell me that asshole never got ya off?" he asked.

Carol bit her lip and shook her head. "He wasn't the kind to worry about his partner…" her cheeks were flushed and her body was glistening with a fine sheen of sweat.

Daryl grunted as he climbed into his bunk and knelt at her feet.

"Daryl….what are…."

"Relax..." he said, his fingers curling around her shins so that he could push her legs further apart. He stared hard at her wet core and felt his heart rate increase. He kept one hand on her leg while the other returned to his swollen cock. His eyes flicked to her face. "Keep goin'." he growled softly.

Carol wasn't sure how much more she could take. The idea of him staring at her sex while she touched herself…it was making gooseflesh rise on her arms and legs. But she couldn't stop now…her body was desperate for release. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and she continued to circle her clit.

The hunter was sliding his hand up and down his shaft as he watched her. Whenever she bucked her hips, he could see the wetness shining between her legs. She was working her body, teasing herself, building her own pleasure while he enjoyed the spectacle. Her breaths were getting shallow and her fingers were moving faster…he knew she must be nearing her edge but he wanted to be the one to get her there. Releasing himself, he crawled over her body, startling her.

Carol's eyes flew open and she stared at him. "Daryl?"

He kept his eyes locked on hers as one of his hands snaked down between them. He began toying with her sex, gently exploring the wetness he'd found.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her hips bucking weakly against his hand.

He smirked at her and ran one finger along her slit. "Ya shouldn't have to do all the work."

Her brows knit together. "I don't under…." but she never had a chance to finish the thought.

Daryl pushed his middle finger into her core without warning, taking the air from her lungs. Carol's entire body tensed and her walls slammed shut, trapping him inside her.

"Christ…" he snarled, feeling the way her muscles seized around his lone finger.

She clutched desperately at his shoulders and wished that he'd taken his clothes off.

Daryl could barely manipulate his finger insider her…she was so tight.

Carol could hardly process everything that she was feeling. Her body had locked up around him and she never wanted to let him go…her insides were clenching and squeezing him.

When Daryl felt that he could form a proper sentence, his eyes went to her face. "Guessin' it's been a while since ya had somethin' hard between your legs." he growled.

Carol felt more wetness hit her core and she rocked her hips, urging him to push in. "Please…" she whined…"Touch me."

The hunter clenched his teeth and forced his finger deep into her pussy, making her cry out. Her body began to adjust to the invasion and he was able to pull back and push in, creating a steady rhythm. She was bucking underneath him and he dipped his head, biting and sucking her neck. He loved being inside her…touching the deepest parts of her body that he knew no one had ever reached before. She was arching for him, panting, pulling at his hair…his shirt.

"Yes…." she breathed. "Like that..."

Daryl was curling his finger inside her, hitting a spot that seemed to make her shake. She opened her legs wider, giving him as much room as she could, and she bit her lip hard when he sank his finger deep into her sex. "Please don't stop…" she cried, arching for him.

He sucked her neck, loving the taste of her, and continued to push himself deeper into her center. Her insides were so soft and wet….he wanted to give her as much pleasure as she could stand. He pulled away from the warmth of her neck and stared at her as he thrust a second finger into her pussy. Carol moaned before tugging at his long hair and pulling his mouth to hers. Their lips met and it only served to heighten Carol's pleasure. The scent from his hair was all around her, leather, smoke and gasoline…and she felt as though his fingers couldn't go deep enough. Her body was hungry for him…for penetration and release. He was giving her everything she needed. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she let him into her mouth, moaning at the taste. His warm tongue moved past hers, exploring her mouth, and Carol bucked her hips. He was kissing her as if he wanted to devour her…he sucked her tongue, and felt her insides tremble around him. "You're close…" he growled against her lips.

She managed a nod. "Keep touching me…please….It feels so good…" She gave him a deep kiss, her tongue sliding against his, and then she pulled back, breathless. "I'm almost there….please…"

Daryl kept his eyes on hers as he slowly pulled his fingers back and then thrust them forward, making her body jerk.

"Like that!" she cried, her walls opening for him.

The hunter had no intention of stopping…not until she asked him to. He increased his speed, his two fingers slipping in and out of her pussy, working the muscles and making her wet. He seemed to push in deeper each time, the slickness easing his way. He wanted her to come. So he grunted, pushing harder, faster….hitting the spots that made her weak. "C'mon Carol…fuckin' christ.." he growled into her neck.

She opened her legs wider and pulled his hair as his fingers sank into her sex. "Harder…I need more…" she gasped.

Daryl ignored his own need as he pleasured the woman underneath him. She was so wet and he was slipping inside her so easily, she bucked her hips again and he pushed a third finger into her core, making her scream. But he could feel her walls trembling, her passage was getting too tight...narrow, and he had to force his fingers into the deepest parts of her. He was rubbing against her walls now, creating a friction that was making her back arch again..and again, and again…he pushed and pulled, playing in her sex and loving every sound she made in response.

"Yes, please….oh, oh, oh, god….yes, more, harder…deeper, I need it…I need it Daryl…please…" she was moaning and panting underneath him, her fingers tangled in his hair as her body went wild.

He was moving in and out so quickly now and her walls were closing around his fingers, but he had to keep going. He could feel the wetness seeping from her and he wanted to make her scream again. Her back arched, her hips bucked and she opened her legs, giving him everything and he thrust in hard, as deep as he could… She froze, her body going rigid around him as they stared at one another. He could see the incredible blend of pleasure and shock on her face as her core began to spasm. He kept his fingers buried inside her, enjoying the way her walls trembled. "Keep…moving…" she panted. And the hunter realized that it wasn't over. He continued working his fingers, pulling them back and forcing them further into her already quivering core. The faster he moved, the more her body shook and that's when he knew that she was riding out her orgasm. So he continued to play…to tease, exploring her pussy, thrusting in and out, faster and faster through her slickness until she screamed again and a flood of wetness hit his fingers. Her back was still arched and he'd slipped into the deepest part of her center. His eyes were locked on hers and he watched her face as the climax worked its way through her body…crippling her.

Carol's lips were parted as she savored the hardness filling her core. She rocked weakly against his fingers, wanting to keep him inside her forever. But as her body shook and throbbed, he slowly withdrew his fingers and she could feel wetness leaking from between her legs. Daryl eased back, sitting on his calves, and she forced herself to sit up. Her heart was beating uncontrollably and her breathing hadn't slowed. She glanced down at the mattress underneath her and could see the wet spot that she'd made. In all her life, Carol knew she'd never experienced an orgasm like that…ever. She was in a daze, her mind reeling with the pleasure he'd given her.

"How was that?" he asked, he had one hand on his cock and he'd begun to stroke himself again.

She was still working to catch her breath and she smirked at him. "That was…" she brought one hand up to cup her forehead. "I just….there are no words…"

He licked his lips and smirked back at her. "Bet ya can think of at least one…"

She was crawling towards him, her core still tingling with pleasure. "How about…amazing?" she pushed him onto his back and started working on the buttons of his shirt.

He chuckled. "That's a good one. Keep goin'."

She smiled down at him as her fingers made quick work of the buttons. "Delicious?"

Daryl reached for her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. "That works too."

When she finished with the buttons, he sat up, shrugging the shirt and vest off his shoulders and tossing them on the ground. "What else ya got?" he asked as he helped her get his pants down.

She was giggling as she worked the fabric down his legs. "Perfect?"

He kicked the pants off his feet and smirked at her. "Well alright then. Since I made ya come so hard, would ya mind doin' me a favor?"

"What's that?" she asked, smiling as she crawled over his body. She took a moment to lean down and catch his mouth with hers. They held the connection for several seconds and she bit his bottom lip softly, pulling at it while they stared at one another.

He gave her one more quick kiss and ran his hands up and down her sides. "Would ya mind takin' care of that for me?" He glanced down between them at his manhood.

Carol followed his gaze and felt herself get warm all over again. When she refocused on his face they were both smirking at one another. "I think I can give you a hand." she said, her voice hushed.

Daryl chuckled at that and enjoyed the view as she turned around and crawled away from him. He stared hard at her ass and hoped that he would have plenty of opportunities to touch it. When she was finally down between his legs, she stared up at him. He propped himself up on his elbows so he could see her. "You like to watch." she said, smirking at him.

He answered with a nod.

Carol smiled and took a moment to admire him. He was flushed with arousal, shocks of dark hair plastered to his temples, his body shone with sweat… She stared at his flat stomach, the trail of hair below his navel, and the hard shaft that was resting against his lower belly, waiting for her. She was tempted to grab him…to feel that solid length in her hand…but she made herself wait. Carol wanted to give him as much pleasure as he'd given her…if not more. So she knelt in the space between his legs and leaned forward, running her soft hands up his thighs, slowly. The contact made him shiver and he fell onto his back, groaning.

When her hands reached his hips, Carol massaged him, loving the way he bucked in response. She ran her hands up and down his thighs a few more times, her thumbs nearly brushing his manhood. He was muttering curses and growling out of frustration, his broad hands tangled in his own hair. Carol found that she liked watching him struggle…his lean, hard body twisting on the bunk while she teased him with light touches. She looked up and saw that his eyes were closed, his fingers still tugging at his dark hair. His hips bucked weakly and she knew that he wanted her to touch him. So she bent low over his groin, her warm breath hitting his cock as she whispered, "Relax…"

Daryl swallowed hard, his heart pounding and the muscles in his stomach tensing in anticipation. His eyes were slammed shut but he knew how close she was…he could feel her breath against his shaft…her mouth was so close and he just wanted her to make contact. He kept one hand in his hair while the other clutched at the flimsy mattress beneath him.

When Carol felt that he was ready, she flicked her tongue out against his cock. The motion was quick, simple, and she could taste the salt of his skin.

The hunter gasped, his hips jerking, but Carol had already pulled away. His blunt nails were digging into the mattress as he waited for her next move. She could see fresh sweat breaking out on his skin and she smirked, bending over him again. This time, she ran the tip of her tongue from the base of his cock, all the way to the head, and watched the thick shaft twitch in response. Daryl hissed. She simply smiled and repeated the action, running her tongue along his length several times until she could see her own salvia shining on him.

Daryl was suffering; he needed pressure. The gentle way that she licked him…it just wasn't enough, but he didn't have the words to tell her what he wanted.

But Carol knew. She just needed moisture. Now that his shaft was slick, she gripped the base firmly in her hand and squeezed. She continued to apply pressure as she moved her hand along his length and ran her thumb over the blunt head of his cock. Daryl's toes curled as he released a groan of satisfaction. "You like that?" she whispered, her hand moving back down, still squeezing him.

The hunter didn't know what to say…or how to say it. The reality of her touching him was so much better than his dreams. Her grip was firm and she held him with purpose; she wasn't afraid or timid. He supposed that the alcohol might have something to do with that, but he was too far gone to care. Daryl liked the fact that she was building him up slowly, making his spine tingle and his toes curl. Her soft hand felt so good wrapped around him and he loved the friction she was creating. Her palm slid up and down his length and she increased the pressure each time she reached the end of his member. He was throbbing and pulsing in her hand, his cock jerking and leaking…and it was then that Daryl realized what was about to happen. It wasn't a dream…the warmth and pressure around his dick was real…she was real….and he was going to come in front of her. He'd always been so introverted, so ashamed when it came to physical release, and now he was lying naked in his bunk, his eyes closed and his chest heaving as he savored everything she did to him. She squeezed him tighter and Daryl whined. He knew that they shouldn't be doing this…they were too loud, someone could hear them…catch them, but that didn't matter. His shyness and his guilt had been replaced with raw lust. For once, the hunter was giving in to every primal need…every animalistic urge coursing through his veins. He wanted to be touched, teased, licked and stroked. He wanted her to keep going.

Carol's hand was moving faster and he could hear the sexiest little gasps and moans escaping her each time she ran her thumb across the tip. Knowing that she was enjoying herself seemed to heighten Daryl's arousal and he bucked into her hand, swearing. But she held on, squeezing and massaging his shaft.

"Tell me what you want…" she breathed.

"Fuck!" he groaned, bucking again.

Her free hand gripped his thigh while she continued to stroke him. "Tell me…"

Daryl was panting, his fingers still digging into the mattress. "M…more…" he stammered.

Carol's core tightened when she heard that desperate plea fall from his lips. She couldn't believe that he was letting her touch him…that he was asking her to touch him… She was still processing that fact that his fingers had been buried in her sex. But she wanted to please him any way that she could…to give him whatever he needed, and if he wanted more….she would give him more. Biting her bottom lip, she gripped him harder, causing drops of moisture to form at the tip of his cock.

"Christ!" he growled.

She increased her speed, working him up and down.

Daryl was quickly losing control. His body was trembling…he was covered in sweat and his hips were bucking in time with the motions of her hand. He was dimly aware of the bunk creaking under him…and a gentle pressure on his thigh where her free hand was resting, but what really mattered was the incredible friction…her hand against his skin, sliding up and down with ease… The hunter's entire body was gearing up for release and in that moment, there was nothing he wanted more. His eyes were still closed, and both of his hands were clawing at the mattress now…he could feel the flimsy sheet sticking to the sweat on his back.. Daryl's strong hips were bucking harder… "Fuck…" he moaned.

"That's it…." she panted, running her hand over the blunt head of his cock.

Daryl couldn't take much more. His mouth had gone dry and every last muscle was tensing. His heart threw itself mercilessly against his ribs while blood continued to rush to his manhood, making it swell in her hand. He was lost in her touch…in the sound of her labored breathing and her scent…it was all around him, flooding his mind and making the rest of the world fall away. All that remained was his crippling need and the warmth of her palm wrapped around his shaft. His legs were beginning to shake and he couldn't restrain the curses burning on his tongue. "Fuck….shit…christ….god….damn…fuck…." He threw his head back, groaning, and savored the way she squeezed him. Tangled up in lust, heat, pressure and friction, Daryl's fevered mind struggled to accept the fact that this woman was pleasuring him. She was making him feel things that he hadn't felt in years…with every stroke, every pull…she was bringing his body to life and driving him closer to the edge. Abandoning himself to the desire that was tearing through his body, the hunter finally let go.

She was flushed, panting, and her hand was moving rapidly up and down his dick. She was squeezing, tugging…doing everything she could to please him, and her lips parted when she felt his member jerking in her grasp.

Daryl was writhing on the bunk, his body glistening with sweat and she heard him growl as his cock went completely rigid…semen shooting from the tip. "Fuck!" he groaned. "Don't stop…"

Carol quickly resumed her task, stroking his member as fast as she could while he emptied his seed onto his belly.

"Christ….fuck….jesus….godammit!" He whined as he bucked into her hand, helping her milk him. Daryl was in a state of euphoria as his throbbing cock continued to spurt. He couldn't begin to describe the satisfaction that washed over him in that moment, as he released the tension that had been trapped inside him for so long. His manhood was aching, sore, sensitive in the aftermath of orgasm but he couldn't recall ever feeling so good. She gave him a final stroke, milking the last of his pleasure from him, before she finally pulled her hand away. The hunter was dizzy, disoriented as he lay sweating and panting in the small bunk. The sound of his breathing filled the cell and he waited for his heart to stop pounding. Blood flow was slowly returning to normal as Daryl came down from his incredible high. He gradually regained feeling in his limbs, and uncurled his stiff fingers, releasing the mattress. His head was still swimming when he finally propped himself up on his elbows and eased his eyes open. Daryl's vision was a bit blurry but he blinked a few times and was able to make out Carol's form in the soft glow of their cell. She was still kneeling between his legs, her hands resting on her thighs as she stared at him.

He studied her…the flush on her cheeks, the smile on her lips, and those bright eyes that had become such a distraction lately.

"Well…" she started to speak, "How was…." but he didn't let her finish.

Daryl didn't care about the mess he'd made, or the fact that he was covered in sweat…he needed to be close to her. The moment she opened her mouth to speak, he sat up, leaned forward and caught her mouth with his. Their lips connected and she let him kiss her. Despite his release, there was a definite urgency in the way he kissed her…his lips pressing into hers, his tongue sinking quickly into her mouth, making her gasp. His hands were gently holding her face, keeping her close. The longer they held the connection, the better it felt. They were each memorizing the way the other tasted. His tongue traced her bottom lip before he pulled back, staring at her. His hands were still holding her, his thumbs softly stroking the shocks of hair near her ears. "Ain't nobody ever made me feel like that…" he whispered.

She felt warmth spreading through her body and she smiled at him. "I'm happy to do it…anytime." Carol leaned in, kissing his jaw.

He eased back carefully so that he could meet her gaze. "Ya mean it?" he asked, his words hushed.

Her blue eyes were locked on his as she reached up and pushed the damp hair back from his brow. "I do."

Daryl swallowed hard and ran one calloused thumb along her jaw line. "Ya ain't gotta do me any favors…"

She laughed lightly, combing her fingers through his hair. "Don't think of it as a favor…just…" she bit her lip, searching for the right words…it was proving difficult since Carol's mind and body were still recovering from the orgasm he'd given her. "Think of it as stress relief."

Daryl smirked, a small chuckle escaping him. "That right?" he asked.

She gave him a quick kiss and nodded, her fingers still raking through his hair. "Or a sleep aid."

The hunter snorted, shaking his head. "Right."

Carol smirked at him, leaning in so that her forehead was resting against his. "Call it what you want…but the bottom line is….it's healthy, it's fun, and it's mutually beneficial…as far as I can tell." she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and pulled gently.

Daryl growled when she released his him. "Guess ya got it all figured out then?" His eyes were on her mouth.

She smirked at him again. "I just know a good thing when I see it."

The hunter nuzzled her hair, pulling the soft scent into his lungs. "It was good, wasn't it." He let himself smile.

Carol chuckled, her fingers rubbing the muscles in his neck. "Yes…and it'll be even better next time."

He pulled back, looking at her. "Ya think?"

She nodded. "Maybe…" she bit her lip as a blush spread across her cheeks. "You could use something other than your fingers."

Daryl was smirking at her. "Well maybe you can use somethin' other than your hand."

They both chuckled at that. He dipped his head, kissing her shoulder. "I best clean this up." He eased back and glanced down at the mess he'd made of himself. He moved to slide off the bunk but Carol stopped him.

"You sit tight…I got it." She rose, walking across the cell.

He eyed her naked frame and thought about all the things he wanted to do to her…and that he wanted her to do to him. He still couldn't believe what had taken place between them.

She knelt near her pile of belonging and rifled through a small bag before she found a clean cloth. She was a bit unsteady on her feet, and Daryl could see that the bourbon was taking its toll on her. Carol sank bank into the bunk, handing him the rag. He took the offering and quickly wiped the mess off his belly. "Thanks" he growled softly as he leaned over and hid the rag under the bunk.

She smiled at him. "Don't mention it." She was sitting on the edge of the bunk and she looked down, noticing the bottle they'd left on the floor. She reached for it and took a quick pull. "Doesn't even burn anymore." she laughed.

Daryl moved so that he was sitting next to her; he took the bottle and brought it to his lips, savoring the taste of the liquor. The two survivors sat in comfortable silence, their shoulders and hips brushing. Suddenly, Carol released a happy sigh and shook her head.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"Nothing…it's just…." she glanced at him and then the bottle he held. "This is how we got into this mess in the first place." she chuckled.

The hunter snorted, a faint smile on his lips. "Guess you're right. Whatever this is…" he scuffed his foot on the floor. "I think it looks real good on us."

She felt herself blush. "Well it definitely feels good."

They smirked at one another and Carol leaned in, giving him a quick kiss. "I think I'm gonna call it a night." she whispered against his lips.

Daryl's lids were heavy as he stared at her. He set the bottle on the floor and ran his broad hands up and down her arms. "It really was good." he growled softly.

She smiled at him. "I know." With that she rose from the bunk and walked to the end table. She turned the small knob on the gas lamp until the cell was blanketed in darkness. "Night." she whispered before moving towards the bunk and gripping the ladder. The first rung creaked beneath her foot but then something stopped her.

"Carol.." he called to her.

"What?"

The hunter swallowed hard, and gripped the edge of the bunk. "Ya ain't gotta stay up there…if ya don't wanna."

She paused and considered his words. A smile was spreading across her face. "Is that an invitation?" she couldn't help but think back to the first exchange they'd had when he moved into the cell.

"Guess it is." he said.

As she stood on that ladder, smiling in the dark, Carol felt a sudden rush of excitement coursing through her. She didn't know why, and she wasn't in any state to question it…but she felt good, happy, and she carefully stepped down onto the cold floor.

Daryl was waiting anxiously on the bottom bunk, his thumbnail caught between his teeth. When she finally moved to crawl in with him, he fumbled, grabbing her and pulling her down. They were both laughing as they struggled to find their way under the sheet. He reached for her waist and used his grip to pull her body against his. The laughter began to die down as they lay in the dark, chest to chest, sharing his pillow. Daryl ran his hand along her side, memorizing her curves and she inched even closer to him, her fingers threading in his hair. They laid in that bunk, unsure of what to say or do, but it didn't matter. They were together. They'd found comfort and warmth in one another, and they were reluctant to let it go.

Daryl listened to the soft sound of her breathing and they held each other's gazes, neither of them wanting to look away… His body was still thrumming with the bliss of climax and he loved the way her skin felt under his palm. His legs were tangled with hers and the thin sheet was draped over their bodies. The hunter was in awe. He'd never made a habit of sharing his bed, but being there…with her…it felt good, right. She was so close…her soft skin against his and her scent all around him. He snaked an arm around her waist, making sure her body was flush with his, and she gently cupped the side of his face. They stayed like that for the longest time…smiling in the dark and staring at one another. Daryl and Carol didn't know what the morning had in store for them, but for the moment…they had each other, and that was enough.

I hope you had fun with this! If you did, please leave me a juicy review; it'll make my day! Thanks for reading ; )

-Sami