Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead nor am I in any way affiliated with the show, the comics or AMC. This is strictly a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only. Thanks.

A/N: Hello everyone! As always, huge heartfelt THANK YOU to everyone for reviewing. I am super nervous about the chapter and feel like I should warn you about what is coming but I will let you read on and find out yourself. Please, please review. As I said, I am nervous about this and would love to hear your thoughts on it. Without further commentary, enjoy the chapter!

Hunted

Chapter Ten

At one point or another, it had been a maintenance shed of some kind. It was small, only one ten by ten room with cinderblock walls and a heavy metal door. It was the perfect place to catch a few hours of sleep. Daryl had managed to do what Beth had not and killed them a squirrel for dinner. They had cooked it up at dusk, then Daryl had kicked dirt over the fire and covered the remnants with dead leaves. The squirrel hadn't been much, but it was greasy and fatty and that was something that their bodies were in desperate need of. It had also served to quiet Beth's ever-rumbling stomach. She had asked if they could open on of the cans that she carried in her bag, but Daryl had said no.

"Best save those for a night I can't catch us somethin'."

"Don't you always catch somethin'?"

"Smartass."

After that, and long after the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon, they had stumbled across the little shed. They wouldn't stay long. Not even the full night. It would be too hard to secure and would only serve to trap them if they were surrounded, but they could use it to sleep for just a little while. Get some needed rest; catch their breath.

Daryl leaned against the cold metal door and watched via the dim light of their pilfered lantern as Beth spread a wool blanket from his own pack over the floor. She took off her sweater and rolled it into a ball as a makeshift pillow. Then, from her bag, she withdrew her own blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Unable to resist the need to be just a little closer to her, Daryl pushed away from the door, crossed the room and crouched on his haunches by her side.

"Try to get some sleep, 'kay." He said.

"Daryl, I been thinkin'."

"'Bout?"

"Well," she sat up to put them on an even level. She had been thinking. She had been thinking that she was in love with this difficult, complicated, rough neck man and she might just go crazy if she didn't find out how he felt about her. She knew that he cared about her but to what extent? And he kept himself closed up tighter than a damn bank vault. It was now or never. Time to take matters into her own hands, so the speak. If she wanted to know what was behind that vault door, she was just gonna have to break out the dynamite.

"I was thinkin' that you gave me my first drink."

"Mmm."

"You gave me my first trackin' lesson. Took me on my first huntin' trip."

"There a point comin'?"

Instead on answering him, Beth leaned forward and press her lips to his.

Daryl reeled, threw his head back, tripped over his own feet and landed on his butt. He scooted back away from her until his back hit the cement wall, eyes wide, staring at her like she was a poisonous snake about to strike or something along those lines. His face was an expression of pure, unbridled panic. But Beth had come too far to back down now. So, she followed him to the wall.

She crawled into his lap and without giving him a chance to say or do anything, she once again sealed her mouth over his. She nibbled and kissed and teased his lips, trying to coax a response from him. When he remained as motionless as a statue, she didn't let herself feel discouraged. Instead, she began trailing a path of light kisses and nips along his jawline and down his neck. That was when she heard the soft, almost whimper from the back of his throat.

Daryl couldn't think straight, couldn't move, couldn't get himself together. His heart was beating so hard he thought it just might bruise one of his ribs. That wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. He was dreaming again. He'd wake up sweaty and horny and push it all down because the most important thing in the world was keeping this girl safe and sound. Then he felt the bite of her sharp little teeth at his throat and the sensation sent a jolt of heat straight to his groin. His brain acknowledged that he was in fact awake. Beth's soft warm lips moved up and closed around his earlobe at the same time her small, cool hands ran up his chest to slide his leather cut and the flannel jacket underneath from his shoulders. He let her.

He didn't know what else to do. He couldn't seem to get his brain to fully function. He didn't know what to do with his hands. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to touch her so badly he thought that he might die from it. But should he? Could he? Her deft little fingers unbuttoned the top three buttons of his remaining shirt and skimmed feather light touches over the bare skin of his chest before sliding up to rest at the sides of his neck, her thumbs caressing his jawline as she brought her lips up to his once more. Daryl started to flinch away out of pure instinct but Beth's hold tightened on the side of his face, keeping him still.

He was going to push her away. He had to. He lifted his hands to do just that. He had every intention of shoving her off of his lap, setting her on the other side of the cramped shed and telling her to stay there for her own sake and his own sanity.

Then, something happened.

He felt the smooth, warm brush of her tongue against his lips and before his brain could register what his body was doing, he opened his mouth to allow her the access she desired. Her tongue slid inside and she tasted just as sweet as he had somehow known that she would. All at once, her tongue wasn't enough for him. He wanted more. He needed more. The hands that he had raised to push her away rose higher and cupped the back of her head, drawing her closer.

And he was kissing her back.

He slipped into the silky recesses of her mouth, tasting more of her warmth, more of her honeyed flavor. The soft strands of her pale gold hair were tangled around his fingers. Beth shifted on his lap until she was straddling his hips, her own hands now clutching his hair, holding him to her.

There was a part of Beth that worried that this would turn out not to be real; that any minute she would wake up tucked away at a nice, safe distance away from Daryl. And what a shame that would've been. When he finally responded to her kiss, it had started off so—gentle. Almost—innocent. Testing. Unsure. But it had steadily intensified in both desire and aggression. He started kissing her with a hunger that bordered on desperation. He used his tongue, his teeth. His mouth moved over hers in a consuming, devouring, intoxication fervor, the likes of which she had never experienced before. Then, he traveled from her lips, nipped at her chin, tugged her head back using her hair and dragged his tongue across the column of her throat.

Beth couldn't seem to catch her breath. She felt overheated and her skin was tingling all over. She couldn't get close enough, needed to be closer to him, as close to Daryl as she could get. She trailed her hands down over his shoulders, his chest, his flat belly. Feeling all of the sudden clumsy, she began fumbling with his belt buckle.

That was when whatever leash that Daryl had always kept tight on his self-restraint—snapped.

He hooked an arm beneath her rear end and pushed up from the wall. He laid her out on the blanket and fell on her, covering her body with his own. From then, it all became a tangle of clothing and limbs. Their hands bumped and twisted as they struggled with buckles and buttons and zippers.

As far as first times go, it was hardly every little girl's fantasy. There were no candles; no romantic music; there wasn't even a bed. Just a thin, scratchy wool blanket on a hard concrete floor with a flickering lantern in the corner. Beth's shirt and bra were shoved up under her armpits. Her jeans and underwear dangled from one leg. Daryl's black jeans were shoved halfway down his thighs but he was otherwise still mostly dressed. It was hardly a Danielle Steele moment.

But to Beth it was perfect.

It was Daryl.

Daryl kept telling him to slow down, be careful, be gentle. It was her first time! But he couldn't. As soon as he pushed into the welcoming tightness of her body, what little bit of control he had managed to hold onto vanished. He wasn't exactly rough with her, that wasn't the word for it. But he wasn't nearly as considerate—as tender as he should have been, as she deserved.

Beth didn't want this feeling to end. His hands were everywhere, he kissed her everywhere and touched her everywhere. There wasn't a place on her body that lacked in his attentions. It was what she had been waiting for her entire life.

She made these breathy little sounds from deep in the back of her throat that Daryl thought might drive him out of his mind it he wasn't already there. He plunged into her harder, wanting more of those sounds, more of those gasps, more of her, more of everything. He wanted to swallow her whole, devour her, absorb her so that he could keep her all to himself. Forever.

When the end came, his trembling muscles gave out and he collapsed on top of her, dead weight. It took surprising effort to take in a full lungful of oxygen. Only when he felt Beth's hand slide under his shirt and up his back did rational thought return. He rolled away from her onto his back and covered his face with his hands.

Good Lord, he thought. What had he done? He taken her virginity on a dank, cold, cement floor like some kind of fucking animal. He glanced over at her from the corner of his eye. She lay there in her state of almost undress, bare skin lightly sheened in sweat, all of her curves and plains on display. With a heady dose of self-disgust, he felt the heat stir in his belly again. He had violated her, stripped her of her purity and innocence and no more than two minutes later, all he could think about was how he wanted her again. Again and again and again. There were little red marks over her neck, arms and stomach. Beard burn. He rubbed a hand over his scruffy cheeks.

Dammit.

She turned her head and caught him looking at her. Then, she smiled at him and his stomach jumped into his throat.

Clearing his throat, as though he might push it back down, he jerked his pants up and rolled into a sitting position.

Beth felt an unpleasant quiver in her belly as she watched his movements. Her skin, which had only moments ago been producing enough heat to rival the sun, suddenly chilled to an arctic cold. He was going to pull away from her. Again.

Damn you, Daryl Dixon, she thought. She tugged her bra and shirt back into place and eased her bare foot through the leg holes of her panties and blue jeans.

"Daryl," she sighed.

Chewing on the tip of his thumb, he looked over his shoulder at her.

"Her heart seized in her chest, "Don't—"

"Too damn late for that," he snarled.

"Wait, you're mad?" She had expected a certain amount of withdraw, awkwardness even. She knew him too well no to expect those things. She had, however, been unprepared for his anger.

Daryl wanted to hit something; really pound on it. If he could have kicked his own ass, he would have done it and gladly. Beth made for a convenient target, but lashing out at her offered no release as it only served to make him even madder at himself. He stood up and started prowling around the small room feeling trapped, caged, claustrophobic. He needed air and just couldn't seem to fill his lungs.

Beth had her knees drawn up to her chest, her chin resting on the tops of them. She watched him move about the shed with something akin to wariness in the depths of those blue eyes. He wanted to touch her again. He was in actual physical pain with the want to touch her again. But he knew that if he let himself go back there, if he gave in, he'd be lost and that was a risk he couldn't take. The smell of sex hung heavy in the air, so thick that Daryl thought he might choke on it. He needed to get away from this place, away from that goddam shed.

"Pack your shit," he said, "let's get outta here."

"Daryl—"

"Said let's go."

A/N: Okay, that's all for now. No Joe this chapter. Nor is there a poll. I didn't want to detract from the gravity of what just happened between Daryl and Beth. Please let me know what you think. Please, please, please review. I am nervous about this chapter. Thanks so much for reading!