Andrea gasps as thunder claps above them, seeming to shake the very ground that they're standing on. She looks up to the sky in time to see lightning flash - it illuminates the area around them, showing the ground, muddy and wet; and the trees, which have almost as much moisture dripping from them as the sky does. She laughs softly and pushes Daryl's shirt open, running her hands up his chest.
"I fuckin' love storms," he says, reaching out for her tank top and pulling it up and over her head. "Jesus. Look at you."
Completely bare-chested, she leans up against the tree, laughing. "Look at you," she says, grabbing his belt and pulling him closer to her. He leans down and kisses her deeply, lips wet with rain, and she moans in to his mouth as he slips his hand inside her jeans.
"Yes," she whispers against him, pushing against his hand, "Please Daryl..."
He undoes the buttons roughly with a whisper of, "Open your legs." She pushes the now-soaking denim down her legs and he finds her entrance with two fingers, sliding them quickly inside. Her head falls back against the tree and she releases a shaky breath.
His fingers work in and out of her quickly, there is a time for slow and sensual and this - up against a tree, covered in rain and mud, on the way back from a hunting expedition they had to cancel due to weather - is not it. Her moans are masked by a brief thunder clap, and then he can hear her again, hear her say his name, hear her urge him on and beg for more.
Knees shaking, she reaches out and grabs for him, looking for something to anchor her. "Fuck me," she says, pulling at the waistband of his jeans.
He bats her hand away. "I like watching this," he says, with a smirk.
"Daryl - please," she pants.
He moves in close to her, one arm around her shoulders, his leg between hers. "As much as it fuckin' turns me on to hear you say that," he whispers, against her ear, and feels her squeeze around his fingers, "I'm gonna make you come like this first," (she whimpers) "...and then I'm gonna push you up against this tree and fuck you so hard that you're gonna scream. Okay?"
He doesn't wait for her to respond, just leans down and bites a trail down her neck. She moans in to his ear, breath quickening. "Come on baby," he whispers, as he watches her eyes roll back in her head. He reaches down and runs a hand along his own length, painfully hard inside his jeans, but so worth the wait. He bends his fingers inside her slightly and she releases a soft scream. Her hands grab for him as she climaxes, shaking, gasping his name as he keeps up the rhythym of his hand.
"Fuck," she pants, as he finally slows, "Oh my god, Daryl..." Her thighs are slick, she has no idea if it's with rainwater or not. No sooner has she caught her breath than he is lifting her up against the tree and pushing in to her, relishing the feeling of her wet warmth around him.
"Feels so goddamn good," he says, his forehead meeting hers.
"Come on," she whispers, urging him to move. Above them, the rain begins to fall even harder, pelting them both with ice cold water. "That's it, honey."
She wraps her legs around his waist and he slams in to her; he couldn't be any deeper inside her if he tried. She uses his shoulder to muffle her moans but he wraps a hand in her ponytail and moves her head up, he wants to hear her.
"You like how that feels?" he says, pulling all the way out and then sliding in again. She just nods, gasping. "I said, do you like that?"
"Yes," she pants, "Jesus, yes."
He speeds up his thrusts again, pounding in to her, then grabs her hand. "Hands above your head," he whispers, and she obeys, putting both hands above her head. He takes them in one of his hands and holds them tight. "'m I gonna make you come again?"
She nods.
"What?" he asks, and she gasps for breath.
"Yes you are," she says, shaking. He thrusts in her to the hilt, then rocks his hips against hers. Back and forward against her pubic bone he rocks, watching her face as her mouth opens in a silent scream. "Fuck, fuck - oh my god -"
True to his promise, she screams his name as she climaxes, mouth against his neck. He releases her hands as her breathing returns to semi-normal and they instantly find a place on him, urging his hips up against hers. He's so close already, and he feels his climax pool low in his stomach as he continues to thrust up in to her. His hand finds her ass and squeezes the flesh there as he pushes in to her a final time, knees shaking as he growls her name. He stills against her for a few seconds and then they sag against the tree, drenched in rainwater and entirely spent.
"Jesus," he says, pulling out of her. The thunder claps above them again and unleashes a new torrent of rain.
"I don't think I can walk," Andrea says, laughing, leaning against the tree. She bends to pull her jeans up and struggles with the wet fabric, muscles weak.
Daryl struggles in to his clothes as well and then hands her his jacket, the only thing that stayed somewhat dry. She shrugs it on and peers at him from within the oversized garment. "Nice work," she says, with a quirk of her eyebrow.
"Weren't so bad yourself," Daryl says, inclining his head; then with a laugh: "Scared of storms...fuckin' a!"