MIGHTIEST OF GUNS
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AUTHORS NOTE: Reviews = MORE CHAPTERS. So sorry for the delays this summer. Turned out being a lot busier than I imagined. Most notably I got engaged! FYI – this chapter contains lots of sex. Maybe some of you will forgive me then for the wait! Thanks so much again for your reviews and feedback. Love you all! xx
She tilted the glass to her lips, indulged in a long swallow. The wine slid down her throat, warming her from the inside out. The familiar and comforting sensation began to build in her toes and work its way upward. She took another gulp and let out a satisfied hum to herself. Sitting here, drinking with these former strangers was surreal enough. The fact that mere hours before, she thought they had all been doomed made it even more so.
Their new sanctuary had not been what she had expected. She had imagined (and perhaps hoped) for a hospital setting. Something designed to house and heal their staggered group of survivors. What they had found though, was more laboratory than hospice. Clinical and cold, she wondered how well anyone could thrive under the fluorescent lighting, the meticulously pumped air. She wondered where she had the gall to question what had become their saving grace.
She didn't yet know what to make of Dr. Jenner. He had been aloof in a way that made her deeply uneasy, made her want to pull Val closer. She didn't think he was necessarily a danger – he just gave her the distinct sense that there was something he was keeping to himself. And while she was never one to pry, she couldn't help but think that whatever it was – it was going to affect them all gravely.
Sophia and Carl had shuddered when Jenner drew blood samples for his tests. Val had simply stood still and held out her arm to the man. Kristen felt an odd mix of pride tinged with sorrow at how brave her little sister had grown. The medical exams and the doctor's cryptic demeanor were stark reminders that even though they had made it inside, they were not wholly free of the horrors of the day.
As Jenner drew blood from her own arm, Kristen's vision temporarily lost focus – the room began to spin. She was suddenly painfully aware of how malnourished she had grown over the last few days. She rested her hand on the doctor's forearm to steady herself. He momentarily flinched as though afraid she were lunging towards him with some diseased limb.
His eyes narrowed and grimacing he opened his mouth to speak, before promptly being interrupted by Daryl.
"The girl ain't sick, she's fuckin' hungry. How do ya think she's gonna be, drawin' blood when she hasn't eaten in days?" There was an annoyance in his tone as though he were indignant that the doctor could even think that Kristen had been infected by walkers.
The doctor softened ever so slightly. Warily, he extended his hospitality. The gesture did little to quell their unease. But for now, there was food (albeit tinned), clean showers (albeit timed ones), and drink (luckily bountiful.) And regardless of whatever fears she was currently harboring, Kristen couldn't remember the last time she felt this relaxed.
Smiling to herself, she tilted her glass towards Shane and received a much-needed refill. Perhaps it was just the alcohol, but the group seemed to be in high spirits. Lori seemed to unwind a bit and even Andrea seemed slightly brighter.
Her own brothers were certainly in a good mood. When Lori had started to protest as Liam poured some bourbon into his soft drink, it was Daryl who spoke up for the boy.
"The kids been smashin' in skulls, he can handle a fuckin' drink." The sentiment though true, left a gnawing sensation in the pit of Kristen's stomach. It passed though as Sean nudged her, grinning.
"You don't have to worry about Li handling his booze. The kid here's had an iron stomach since he was about 12, right Kris?" It was obvious that Sean felt a perverse pride about it, but Kristen involuntarily cringed under the judgmental eyes of Lori and Carol.
She could remember one night in particular where she came home from work to find Liam and some of his friends smashed on a bottle of limoncello that they had lifted from the packie. One of them had vomited all over their kitchen table. She spent hours trying to mask the stench with Lemon Pledge. After that, she just started leaving beer in the house. If she couldn't stop him, she'd rather him at least not steal it. And at least drink something that his friends wouldn't vomit back up.
Taking a generous sip of her wine, she glanced over towards the other women and simply shrugged.
As the night wore on, people slowly started drifting off to their sleeping quarters. As Carol was getting ready to go off to bed, she offered to let Val stay with Sophia. The young girls jumped at the chance to have a slumber party that didn't involve sleeping in a car. Kristen's heart skipped a small beat at the thought of having a night's sleep without being kicked by little legs.
Before long, the 'young folks' were all that remained at the table. And it was obvious that nobody really had any intention of quitting drinking.
As Kristen reached to uncork another bottle of wine, through reddened cheeks Glen laughed, "Oh ho ho, another one?"
She laughed, her lips stained burgundy from drink. Slowly pouring so not to slosh, she replied. "Glen, Glen, Glen. Wine doesn't count as drinking." Despite herself, her words were beginning to slur.
"You sure about that girly? Because it looks to me like you've been drinkin'." She could suddenly feel Daryl's gaze on her, his eyes glassy. A part of her had been ignoring him at dinner. It felt kind of strange to acknowledge him in public. Not that she was ashamed of him or their friendship. It just felt as though if other people could see what was between them, it would suddenly make it real. Suddenly make it more than she could currently handle.
At the moment though, the wine made her forget this. Looking up at him defiantly, she narrowed her eyes and grinned. "You don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Dixon. Even Jesus drank wine, you know?" As though to prove her point, she took a long sip.
There was an almost imperceptible shift in his eyes, "Oh yeah? Well sweetheart, I'm thinkin' that you're no JC."
She tried to think of a dry retort but found herself tongued tied, her cheeks going crimson. She just hoped that everyone would chalk it up to the wine.
She renewed her efforts in trying to ignore the young hunter. Found herself in an impromptu drinking contest with her oldest brother and Glen. Daryl just watched on, nursing his whiskey. He seemed to think that drinking was too important an act to waste on silly games.
Glen was the first to go. He had put in a fair effort but ended up slumped over in his seat like a freshman frat boy. T-Dog gallantly wrapped an arm around him and carted him off to bed. Kristen was left eye to eye with Sean, two shots of Jim Beam between them.
"You know you can't out drink me, Sis. Doesn't matter if you've got more years. I've got more mass." To demonstrate, he reached forward and pumped his chest like an ape.
Stubbornly, she grabbed the glass and put it to her lips. "What's mass compared to strength of character?" By this point her words were slow and mumbled. She could hear Daryl chuckling. Parting her lips, she swallowed the bitter liquid. It burned her throat in a way much less pleasant than the wine. Her eyes teared as she cleared her throat to keep down a deep cough. Taking a deep breath, she slammed the glass down on the table with a flourish.
Sean raised an eyebrow at her as he lifted his glass and drank the shot as easily as though it were water. Her nose wrinkled in annoyance. "Fine. Another one." She reached for the bottle as her hand was halted by Daryl.
"I think you're good now."
Her eyes shot to him incredulously. She could hardly believe that he of all people (halfway through a bottle of Southern Comfort on his own) was trying to curb her celebrating. Rather than respond, she rose up from her seat and reached across the table. Taking his own bottle from his lips, she took a long swig. Clenching her jaw, she ignored the taste of bitterness and silently handed the bottle back to him.
She was so pleased with herself for her cleverness and spunk that she hardly realized the effects of the bourbon. As she went to retake her seat, she stumbled back and grabbed the table's edge, barely breaking her fall. For a second, she thought Daryl would have been annoyed, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from laughing at her. Despite her blushing, she had to laugh a bit as well.
The good humor was interrupted though by a sudden groan from Liam at the far end of the table. The younger boy had certainly been enjoying himself and despite his 'iron stomach,' it was obviously time for him to get to sleep. Hopping down his perch on the table, Sean went to his brother. "Okay man, looks like it's time to get you upstairs. You good?" Liam nodded listlessly.
"Make sure you bring water up with you!." Kristen's eyes, though glazed over, still held a look of concern. Sean simply waved her away. At the moment, they were too drunk to care for how they'd feel tomorrow.
Kristen watched her brothers leave and suddenly felt too aware of the fact that she was now alone with Daryl. He took a measured sip of his drink, but refrained from looking up at her. Without a drink, she felt weirdly naked – like she couldn't sit here with him unless she had a clear purpose. She gestured to the bottle and this time he poured her a drink. Clearly, his similar sense of awkwardness outweighed his concern for her liver.
Secretly, she wished for a chaser but was thankful for the warm comforting liquid. Her voice sounded hoarse when she next spoke. "You know, the first cocktail they made with Southern Comfort came out with 'Gone With the Wind.' It was called the Scarlett O'Hara."
"You a big fan or somethin'?"
"No, just bartended a lot. Well used to, I guess."
"Ya miss it?"
"Sometimes. Being around drunk people gets kind of depressing after a while, you know?"
He nodded slowly, his voice getting gruffer. "I used ta mix whiskey sours for my ma when I was a kid. I'd bring 'em to her in her lazy boy. If it wasn't right, she'd send me back to fix it."
She studied him curiously. It was the first time that she had heard him say anything about his past. She was hesitant to speak, as though he was a skittish colt and she didn't want to send him running. "It's weird, isn't it? That like everyone doesn't grow up doing that stuff. My mama used to have me run down the block to 'buy sugar' from the neighbors. When I got older and understood, she laughed about it - how clever she was to use her little girl to pick up her crystal. Nobody would suspect you. And then nowadays, I don't even let Val near lit candles." She cringed and continued, "Sorry. I didn't mean to get into like a sob story one-up contest."
"They're lucky to have you, ya know." There was something so sincere in his expression; she had to look down at her drink.
"No. We're lucky to have each other. I've fucked up so many times with those kids. I think the reason I'm so protective of Val is because a part of me feels like she's my last chance to do it right. I so badly wanted her to get out of the neighborhood. Sean and Liam got beat down too many times. I was still too young and stupid to give them enough. I…" She suddenly realized how impassioned her voice was growing, how intently he was listening. "I am talking an awful lot."
Daryl opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed that the words wouldn't come. Finally he just gestured around the kitchen and raised his bottle. "As least you made it out of the neighborhood."
She couldn't help but scoff dryly. Taking a sip, she agreed.
They fell into silence again. Many times throughout their friendship they found themselves not speaking – it was hard not to when Daryl seemed to be so naturally reserved. However, where those silences felt comfortable and companionable, this one felt charged. She didn't much want to drink anymore, but she felt it was her only excuse to sit and stay with him. The thought of a horrible hangover the next day was easier to deal with than the thought of trying to admit anything to herself. Unsure of what to do or say, she drained her glass and reached for the bottle yet again.
But this time, he seemed to have made up his mind that she had had enough. Chuckling, he put the bottle to his lips before moving it just out of her reach. "Uh uh, I'm cuttin' you off."
She felt her face go warm, a slight excitement building inside her. "I thought that was my job. I'm the one here who's a professional here."
He grinned. "Yeah well, I'm taking my greater age and size as a means of authority."
"And you think that you could just stop me that easily? Have a bit more respect for me than that, Dixon."
"'Kay then girl, come and get it." He smirked mischievously and placed the bottle to his far left, just out of reach from her side of the table. Kristen quirked an eyebrow, as though weighing her options. Her mind was fuzzy from the liquor and it outweighed any sense of shyness or hesitation that she may have been feeling. Gingerly she stood and rather gracelessly made her way around towards him. Only once did she need to hold onto the table for support in her intoxication.
He turned in his chair to face her as she came near to him. Raising his brows challengingly as she reached across him for the bottle. She laughed lightly, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "I don't know what you think of me, but I'm not one of those girls with 'daddy issues.' I'm not looking for someone to boss me around, you know."
He was suddenly far too aware of her proximity and the whiskey in his bloodstream. He halted her arm with his hand as his eyes clouded over. "You may not be one of them girls. But a girl like you? I think you need a bit of bossin around." He released her arm, his other hand finding her hip as they both rose to standing. Kristen felt her breath catch in her throat. Despite the warmth building from her navel downwards, she still felt the stubborn need to object.
"And what makes you think you know anything about what I'd need?" Daryl could hardly contain himself any longer. Something about her was so enticing yet infuriating. With a growl in the back of his throat, he found himself gently pushing her backwards, until her back was firmly pressed against the kitchen's metallic counter top. She couldn't silence the gasp that escaped.
He was drunker than he should have been. Despite how almost sexually aggressive he was being, his eyes were attuned for the slightest sign of unease or nonconsent from her. But the way her irises had darkened and her lips had parted, he felt a rush of excitement and invitation to continue.
Pressing his body against her, his hand snaked around her waist while his other rested cradling the side of her neck. He went back to her question.
"'Kay then sweetheart. You go on and tell me what it is you need, since I have no idea." Despite the alcohol, he was quickly growing hard against her. Kristen's mind was swimming with desire. Her response to his question came out as nothing more than a slight whimper in the back of her throat. Involuntarily, her hips began to slightly rock in circles against him.
He glanced down and smirked at her. "That's what I thought." The smugness in his voice and expression seemed to snap her back to her senses, drunken as they may be. She suddenly found herself overly concerned with the fact that she was being seduced. She couldn't remember the last time that had happened.
It seemed inevitable that they were going to fuck and she at least wanted to have the upper hand. Biting her bottom lip slightly, she toyed with the top of his belt buckle. As though reading her mind, he chuckled lightly and held her tighter, pressing himself more firmly against her – her hands now trapped at her sides. Her cheeks flushed with frustration. It was obvious how hard he was, why wouldn't he let her just get on with it?
He narrowed his eyes, studying her curiously. "Do ya ever just stop fucking worrying for one goddamn second?" When she didn't respond he rocked his pelvis forward, grinding against her. At the sensation, she let out an unconscious groan, her eyes rolling back. Grinning to himself he whispered gruffly in her ear, "That's better."
She wanted to speak or move, but her head was too hazy with lust. She felt as though she were right on the edge of giving up full control to this man. The idea was as frightening to her as it was tempting.
Continuing his assault of her senses, he spoke – his voice a growl. "Tell me, when's the last time a man made you come, sweetheart? I bet you're real hard to get there. Ya probably like it best on top, huh? But I bet when you're up there, ridin' his cock, all ya really want is a man to hold you down and fuck you till ya can't think at all, huh?" He almost couldn't believe the words as they left his lips. He wanted to blame the whiskey, but he knew it was the sight of her, so small and almost baseless in front of him, that was driving him wild.
He could feel her trying to regain movement of her arms and he momentarily shifted to let them free. Almost without warning they snaked around his neck and she crashed her mouth into his. Daryl regained control quickly, his hands finding their way under her bum – he lifted her up and placed her down on the counter. Eagerly she spread her legs to allow him greater proximity as they kissed.
Pressing his tongue against her closed mouth, he pressed for entrance as she refused. He could feel her smiling against his lips. The fact that she seemed to enjoy fighting him for control made his cock throb. Persistently, he continued to demand entrance as his hands found their way to her bum again and he squeezed roughly. She gasped in surprise and he took advantage of it to deepen their kiss. Hungrily he explored her mouth with his tongue. His cock grinding against her newly spread legs, he could almost smell how wet she was. One hand became entangled in her loose curls as he pulled her back. For the second time he asked of her to tell him what she wanted.
This time it was an order. "Tell me what you want."
She mewed incoherently and leaned in to kiss him again. He shook his head and refused. "No. You want me to fuck you?" She nodded emphatically. He took the moment to take in her appearance. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair disheveled, her lips swollen from kissing him. His lips curled into almost a snarl. "Tell me."
Kristen opened her mouth and hesitated for a second. He knew that what he was asking of her wasn't as easy as it sounded. She looked intently at his face, her lips taking on an almost snarl of their own. "I want you to take me to your room and fuck me."
Wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, Daryl lifted her as they left for his dormitory. Rushing through the darkened hallway, he almost stumbled once and they both couldn't help but laugh. In their lustful daze, they had seemingly sobered up. The laughter quickly faded though as Daryl kicked his door shut behind them and rather unceremoniously deposited her on the bed.
As he turned to lock the latch, she watched the muscles in his back twitch as though they were going to jump out of his skin. He faced her and gestured to her clothing, simply tilting his head to the side and saying "Off."
She couldn't help but laugh at his bluntness, though his face currently held no trace of a smile. "Come on, girly. You signed up for this. Otherwise I'm gonna hafta come over there and do it for you." She took this as an obvious challenge and leaned back on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows.
This time he laughed to himself. "I was kinda hoping you'd pick to do things the hard way." He climbed onto the bed, and gently placing a knee on either side of her hips running his hands along the length of her torso. He took a small deep breath and lifted the cotton top up over her head, laying her flat on the bed in the process. His eyes traveled down the curves of her body. Her waist nipped in prettily before flaring out into full hips that perfectly suited her frame. Despite everyone's recent weight loss, her breasts still swelled enticingly over the top of her bra. That had to come off next.
With deft hands he reached behind her to undo the clasp. He had half expected/worried that there would be a touch of hesitation in her eyes, but he found his heart skipping a beat as she clawed at his shoulders, trying to remove his vest. He shrugged out of the forsaken clothing, pulling his undershirt off over his head in one motion. She squirmed, sliding the straps of her bra down her arms and tossed it aside.
He took in the sight of her bare chest and swore under his breath. Her breasts were full and soft with the pinkest nipples he'd ever seen. They were quickly hardening under his intent gaze. He lowered himself onto her fully and savored the feeling of her soft breasts pressing against his hard chest as his tongue again found hers. Her hands found their way to the back of his neck, clawing at his shoulders and entwining in his sandy hair. Writhing beneath him she felt both solid and delicate in a way that made his chest ache. Buried under his just-contained lust there was something closer to tenderness.
For the last few weeks he had watched her struggle. Watched her harden her resolve and shoulder her burdens alone. Watched her go hungry and without sleep. Now, for the first time – her eyes weren't swimming with a thousand anxieties and tasks at hand. All he wanted was to give her that relief.
Moving his lips to her neck he left a trail of warm kisses along the smooth skin as his hands reached for her breasts. She let out a whimper and arched her back, giving him greater access. He flicked his tongue over her collarbone, nibbling and sucking lightly as his rough fingers toyed with her nipples until they were little pink nubs in his hands.
As he moved lower to tease her breasts with his tongue, she squirmed with pleasure mumbling his name. He grinned as he kneaded her left breast, taking her right nipple in his mouth until a little mew escaped her throat. He could feel her squirming beneath him as she tried to reach down and undo his belt.
Rising to his knees and keeping his eyes locked on hers, he helped her trembling fingers. He pushed himself back off the bed and let his trousers fall. Kristen's eyes widened at the sight of him. He turned his attention to her cotton leggings, stopping only to graze his lips along the length of her stomach. His fingers toyed along the edge of the waistband as she thrusted her hips upwards, allowing him to remove them.
Her panties were simple cotton, all black. Functional yet sensual, just what he would have expected from her. She was obviously very moist and it drove him wild to think that he had caused that in her. It was the culmination of all the tension and trust that they had experienced in their short time together. As he was debating whether or not to prolong removing her panties, she surprised him by abruptly sitting up and grabbing at his briefs.
"Eager, ain't ya?" He smirked. Yanking them down, his manhood sprung to attention and there was a small whimper in the back of her throat. He was surprised by how almost docile she seemed. Alone with him intimately, it was as though she had finally let her guard down. She was for the first time supple and pliant. Keeping eye contact with him, she gently licked her lips and leaned forward towards his cock. Though the thought of her lips around him drove him crazy, he lifted an arm to halt her.
"No. Lay back." She did as she was told and leaned back, her legs dangling off the bed on either side of him. Licking his lips, he slid her panties off over her bum and down her thighs. He groaned at the sight of her wet sex. Dropping to his knees, he began to graze his teeth along the inside of her thigh. He traced the outline of her bikini line with his rough fingers, breathing warm air over her wet center. The anticipation alone had her writhing about. Teasingly, he brushed his thumb over her swollen clit. She couldn't contain herself at the sensation. "Daryl, stop." Her words were breathless, her eyes fluttering back.
"Oh, now ya talkin'? I was wonderin' how you were so quiet." He starting circling his thumb around her clit slowly. "Ya want me to stop?"
Shuddering, all she could manage was an emphatic shake of her head. Smirking, he lowered his mouth to her as she began to whimper in earnest. His head was spinning from the taste of her. He focused the attention of his tongue on her clit while his fingers teased up and down her soft folds, feeling as her hands found the back of his head. Grabbing onto his hair and holding him roughly against her hot sex. The action spurred him on. Nibbling and sucking on her clit, he inserted a single finger inside her and in a curling motion began stroking her inner walls.
The combination of sensations was sending her over the edge. She tightened her grip on his hair as he caused her to writhe around on the bed. Daryl could only grin, his mouth against her clit. After a few more moments, he could tell that she was getting close. Her inner walls began to tighten around his fingers, her hips bucking against his mouth. He had plans for her to come, but he wanted to be inside her as it happened.
He pulled away, just as he could feel her reaching the point of no return. A pitiful sound burst from her as she opened her mouth to protest. In her haze of lust and drink, she didn't understand what was happening. She didn't know if she wanted to plead with him to continue or yell at him for stopping. The next thing she knew, he was positioned between her legs, his hard cock right at her opening. At this point she was too far gone to care about playing it nonchalant and she wriggled her hips against him, eager to get him inside her and make her come. Daryl was enjoying himself far too much though.
"Not so fast, girly." He grinned wickedly. "You're gonna come when I'm good and ready for ya to." Almost out of desperation for relief, she reached down to touch herself.
"Now why you wanna go and spoil it like that?" Taking her hand, he pressed both of her arms so they lay on the mattress above her head. With one hand holding her arms down, he used his other to rub his cock slowly against her clit. To tease her entrance, dipping ever so slightly but never entering her fully.
Kristen felt as though she were going insane. Nobody had ever made her feel like this. She didn't know if it was the wine lowering her inhibitions, a change in her from the past weeks, or the fact that she simply trusted him. She liked the way he teased her. The way he seemed to know exactly what she wanted him to do, perhaps even before she knew it herself.
This will change things. The thought crossed her mind in a little wave of worry. But before she could ruminate on things, ruin her own good time – he entered her. And she found that she couldn't think of anything.
"Fuckin' hell." Daryl couldn't help but swear at how good she felt. So tight and thoroughly ready for him. Everything that he had felt for her had lead to this. With each thrust she moaned or whimpered. Each time she managed a syllable of his name, he could feel his heart jumping in his throat. Her legs entwined around him as she lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck and shoulder to pull him closer. Her nails dragging across his back, she pressed her lips against his neck and chest with each thrust. The tenderness of it caught him off guard.
Soon her sounds grew more strained, her legs began to tremble and he could feel her constricting and spasming around his cock. He increased his speed and intensity until they collapsed together, fatigued and satisfied. He lay on top of her for a moment and she enjoyed the comfort of his solid weight.
Sliding off, he stretched out along side her, leaned back against the headboard. He was tired. And still a bit drunk. And very unsure now of what to say or do. Physically, he felt so comfortable with her. The sex had been better than he could have hoped for. It was better than he had imagined, alone in his tent.
Kristen suddenly felt very shy and very young. She felt almost like a virgin, unsure of what to do now that the deed was done. She hadn't meant for this to happen with Daryl. But at the same time she knew, she had wanted for it to happen – for much longer than she was willing to admit.
She looked at him, suddenly quiet and reserved, and had to wonder how he could be so confident in his physicality yet so seemingly unsure in his own thoughts. Suddenly he seemed very young to her as well. Something stirred inside her chest and she was overwhelmed with the urge to care for him. It was nothing like the maternal urges she felt for her siblings. It could only be described as a part of the natural rhythm of two partners caring for one another.
Without a word, she rose from the bed and collected the pillows and blankets that been tossed aside in their sexual fury. Gesturing for him to lean forward, she adjusted the pillow behind his head. Taking the comforter, she carefully wrapped it around him before climbing into the bed beside him. Placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, she nestled against him and found sleep much faster than she would have expected.
For Daryl, it wouldn't come as easily. The second he had come, the second his haze of lust wore off – he was plagued with worry that he had made a mistake. Perhaps she had been too drunk to know what she was doing. Perhaps she would regret it and him in the morning. But with her sleeping soundly beside him, he started to relax. As he moved to find a more comfortable position, she stirred in her sleep, his name on her lips. A warmth grew in his chest.
This will change things.