A/N: This is a little... maybe a lot of the ick. M rating for this chapter. Be warned.
He'd been made to wait.
The Governor told him to sit on the bed until he got back.
So he did. He was still dressed, a shirt and his underwear being about as good as it got. He sat waiting, knees raised, pressed together
When the other man eventually showed up, he was rough.
He caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath as he moved in close. He kneeled beside him as he rolled him onto his stomach and then straddled over him.
Daryl felt his boxers quickly pulled down before he was filled by The Governor. He was unprepared for it and it tore at him, The Governor being rougher than normal.
When he started to speed up, getting closer to coming, he reached for something, and Daryl saw a flash of silver, a blade, before feeling the other man release inside of him.
He quickly pulled out but held Daryl down with one hand on his back, moved his legs so that he straddled Daryl, pinned his legs down beneath his own.
"This might hurt a little," Phillip said as the knife bit into the flesh on Daryl's inner thigh. The skin parted so easily and clearly. He made a short cut but made sure it was deep.
He wanted him to scar. "Daddy's not the only one who gets to mark you," Phillip whispered, his breath hot in Daryl's ear. He shuddered at the words, at the breath, at the smell of alcohol and all the terrible things his Daddy did to him.
Rick had tried to sleep.
His watch finished but Daryl was running through his mind, over and over again. The constant nag of what to do with him pulling at Rick.
His encounter with Daryl earlier had shocked him, more then he'd cared to admit. Daryl's demeanour, his fear and vulnerability. And even Rick's own attitude. He'd been short tempered with his, lost his patience and he hated himself for it.
He should be grateful that he'd survived. So when sleep evaded him, he went and sat outside Daryl's room, hoping somehow closer proximity to him might help come up with a way out of this mess.
It didn't seem to help.
All that ran through his mind was the last few days with Daryl, but guilt had been mixed in with it too. He started thinking about how Daryl had been left by them, somehow locked in a cell, so The Governor had said.
Rick's thoughts were disputed by a cry in the room behind him. At first he thought Daryl had done something to injure himself, but as he listened, he realised that the other man was likely dreaming as he quietly muttered in his sleep.
Rick crept inside to see Daryl tossing and turning on the bed, sheets half kicked off. His brow was scrunched up in pain or maybe anger, Rick couldn't tell in the dim light.
He crept over quietly, hoping that Daryl might settle down again, but he just seemed to push the covers away more, his thrashing becoming more frantic.
"No... don'..." he muttered in his sleep.
Rick knew he needed to wake him, but he had to do it in a way that made Daryl feel safe. He crouched down beside him and gently gripped Daryl's shoulders, making sure he didn't pin him down.
He shook his slightly as he called his name.
"Daryl, wake up. It's Rick."
Far from the gentle waking up he'd hoped to achieve, Daryl bolted upright, breathing harshly, legs kicking away the sheets that were still draped across him.
Rick was still sat beside him and since he's not struggled from his grip, just the sheets he continued to keep hold of him, one arm across his chest now, hand resting on his shoulder and his other arm mirroring that position across his back.
He simply held Daryl as his breathing calmed and he felt the tension start to abate.
"Rick?" he asked, unsure. And to Rick's ears, it almost sounded like this was the Daryl that he used to know that he held close by.
"It's gonna be okay," Rick said, releasing his grip but remaining beside the hunter.
If he wanted to get Daryl back, he needed to start treating him like the old Daryl. "It's all gonna be okay. I promise."
TBC...
Uh-oh!... Rick promised things are gonna be okay. Surely that's the kiss of death, right?