This stinking chapter had me stumped for SO long. I don't want you to think I've abandoned this story, but I just hit a roadblock when it came to the end of this one and I wrote it and rewrote it over and over and over... I just couldn't get it sorted out.
But, here it is (finally). It's a transition chapter, for sure, but the exciting stuff is coming soon. I even threw a little Richonne in at the beginning for those of you who are into that ;)
Thanks so much to those of you who are still reading even though I suck at updates lately.
Let me know what you think!
xo-
B
"They do anything to you?" Michonne asked, glancing at Rick as he drove the truck carefully down the gravel road, watching carefully for any areas that may have been washed out.
"Nah," he shook his head, "not anything past what you saw. They came up on us, knocked us out, then we woke up in that vault."
"A bank vault," she scoffed. "They sure like their theatrics."
Rick nodded and chewed on his lip as he turned onto the main road that would hopefully lead them home. "Didn't seem like you guys had any issue taking them out," he observed. "And Daryl's group killed six or so back at the school without anyone getting hurt. Just one douchebag got away."
"Dwight," Michonne nodded. "Ivy told me about him. Said he's one of Negan's right-hand men. Don't remember seeing him while we were there, but she said Dwight's wife was part of Negan's harem. He caught the two of them sneaking around and put an iron to the guy's face in front of the whole compound, made an example out of him."
"And yet he still puts his ass on the line for that dick," he shook his head in disgust. "Don't fuckin' understand people sometimes."
"Might not have a choice," she remarked. "Seems there's the illusion of some sort of freedom there, but the second you step out of line you're done, and with his wife on the line too it ups the stakes."
"Guess I can understand that," the leader smirked, grabbing Michonne's hand and pulling it to his lips, barely grazing them against her knuckles.
She returned his smile, the man's spirit so intertwined with her own that she couldn't help but feel his flash of happiness run through her. They'd fought side-by-side for so long, developing a bond so deep that neither of them had even thought they needed more until that night, in the calm of Alexandria, that they finally had a moment to feel something besides the desire to survive.
The pair hadn't come out and blatantly announced their coupling, but they weren't doing much to hide it either. Word spread fast within their rag-tag family, so they knew the others would figure it out eventually. Michonne found hope in his dangerous blue eyes. She found it in the sweet, innocent face of Judith, and in the tenacity and unbelievable strength of Carl.
She thought she'd lost it all when her son was killed, but she was realizing how wrong she'd been. Her soul still ached for her beautiful brown-eyed boy, and always would, but the Grimes crew gave her something to fight for and, more than that, a future to look forward to.
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"You guys are back early," Rosita hollered above the roar of the truck's engine as Rick rolled it through the gates, the brunette closing it securely behind them. "Where's everyone else?" she asked once Michonne had hopped down from the passenger seat, a hint of worry in her eyes.
"They're in the back," the swordstress gestured toward the large compartment. "It's a long story, but everyone's alright."
Rosita let out a sigh of relief and followed the other woman as she went to open the rolling back door, Rick meeting them shortly after. The others began filing out of the truck, stepping over the piles of supplies as they made their way to the ground.
"Got an ok haul," Abraham announced to no one in particular as he made his way over to Rosita and lazily threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a half-assed hug. It did not go unnoticed by the woman, but her relief in seeing he'd made it back in one piece didn't allow her to dwell on the less-than-warm greeting. "Not much in the way of ammo, though."
"Eugene's been talking about making our own," Rosita replied as the pair separated. "I know he's full of shit ninety-percent of the time, but he seems serious about it."
"Is that really an option?" Rick asked, his eyebrow quirked up in interest. He'd never even considered going that route, the technology seeming out of their reach.
"Might be, if he knows what the hell he's doin," Daryl shrugged. "People been makin' bullets long before electricity and whatnot. No reason we can't do it again."
Rick rubbed a hand over his chin, nodding silently as he considered the possibility. It was definitely something he and Eugene would need to have a conversation about in the near future. "Let's just get these supplies to Olivia," he announced, gesturing toward the truck. "Then take some time to relax and I'll fill everyone in on what went down."
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"You're limping," Rosita observed as she held the door open for Ivy to bring a bag of supplies into the commissary.
"Mmm," the redhead hummed as she flopped her bag down beside the rest on the concrete floor. "Ran into some Saviors. Abe and I got caught up in some shit, but Daryl and Aaron took care of it." The brunette's eyes went wide as she followed Ivy outside, absorbing the details of her story. "When they started firing on those assholes Abraham pushed me out of the way, tweaked my ankle. I'm fine, though. Just need to get off of it for a little bit."
"Head on back to the house, then," Rosita insisted. "Prop it up and rest. There's not much left to bring in. I'll send Denise over to check it out in a few."
She thought about protesting, but the pain in Ivy's ankle had gotten a little more intense since she'd been hauling the heavy bags of supplies, so she just nodded and patted the other woman on the back. "Alright," she agreed. "I'll put some coffee on for when ya'll get back."
"Sounds good." Rosita paused for a moment as she watched Ivy walk away, but then called out for her, making the other woman whip her head back around. "Is something going on with Abraham?"
A puzzled look swept over Ivy's face, and she leaned against the wall and shook her head, her arms crossed over her chest as she studied the other woman's expression. She looked like a jilted teenager, scared her boyfriend was going to dump her out of the blue. "Don't think so," she replied. "Did he say something?"
Rosita's lips parted for a moment, as if she was about to spill her guts, but instead she just shrugged, playing it all off. "Nah, nevermind," she chuckled half-heartedly.
"You know you can talk to me about him, right?" Ivy offered. "I know he's my brother and all, but I know how to keep my mouth shut. If you need insight on what makes him tick, I'm the right source, and nothing you tell me will ever find its way to him."
"I know," Rosita brushed her off, "but it's really nothing. I'm sure he's just wound up from the run. I'll see you at home."
She was a horrible liar, Ivy thought. The crinkle of her brow and forced smile let on that she was hiding something, but Ivy wasn't going to push. There was a hot bath calling her name back home, and her brother's relationship drama wasn't going to keep her from it.
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"Feel better?" Daryl asked as Ivy carefully descended the stairs, her hair wrapped in a fluffy, white towel.
"Much," she smiled, moving over to the couch and plopping down beside him, removing the towel so she could dab at her damp locks. The room was empty except for the hunter, and her ears perked up as she listened for the sound of any other movement in the large house.
"Just us," he noted. "The others are next door. Carol made supper. Just came over to make sure you didn't think we'd abandoned ya." He paused for a moment, shifting his eyes away and chewing on his thumb before finally gesturing toward the front door where a shiny, silver pair of crutches were leaned against the frame. "Denise wants ya to use those til she can take a look at that ankle. She got tied up at the clinic and can't come over til tomorrow."
"Jesus Christ," she sighed, rolling her eyes at the looming contraptions. "I can walk just fucking fine. If she looks at it and thinks it's broken I'll use them then, til that happens, and it won't, I'm not hobbling around like some invalid."
He smirked at her predictable response, having known exactly what she'd say when Denise had insisted he take them to her. "Figured as much," he replied, standing in front of her and extending his hand. "Also here to make sure you don't bust your ass walking next door without the crutches. You put a lot of strain on it yesterday, and I know it's hurtin' more than your stubborn ass will admit."
She couldn't deny that behind the pseudo-safety of the walls, when she'd had more time to focus on her body and less on running straight into the enemy on their way home, it did smart something awful. She wasn't about to tell him that, though. Instead, she took his offered hand and allowed him to help her stand up.
"That's the most you're helping," she remarked flatly. "So don't think you've won." Daryl nodded and worked to hide the smirk that pulled at his lips as they made their way outside.
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Dinner was a serious affair, the weight of the things the run crew recounted to the others hanging like a dark cloud above their heads. Once Carol's mystery casserole was served, most of them chose to remain silent, deep in thought as they chewed.
"What's in this?" Carl broke the silence. "It's really good, Carol."
The woman offered him a soft smile in return. "Thank you. It's just noodles, cream of broccoli, squirrel, and some vegetables from the garden."
The room went quiet again after that, the air heavy with tension. It wasn't until Rick went to the kitchen to put his plate away and returned with a bottle of bourbon that the others relaxed a little. "We deserve this," the leader insisted, twisting off the cap and taking a pull before passing it to Abraham.
"Fucking right we do, boss," Abe agreed, polishing off the water in his glass before pouring a bit of the booze into the empty cup and then passing it along. "Need to have us a little R and R before shit hits the fan. Might be the last chance we get."
"Stop, Abe," Ivy scolded, her fork falling to her plate with a loud clink. "Ain't like we're gonna sit around with our head in the clouds about this whole mess, but don't act like you don't think we have a shot. What about the Hilltop?" she asked, turning to Rick.
"What about it?" he replied.
"They have more people than us, and they're getting half their shit stolen by those fuckers every month. Gotta think they might be willing to join the cause, help us take out a common enemy."
"We don't have enough ammo to supply them," Rick countered. "They're over there fighting with sharp sticks, and we have empty guns."
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that, Rick," Eugene piped up. "There's a place nearby that may have the machinery we'd need to produce our own ammunition. Now, it ain't no small task. If they have what we need, it'd be too large to transport home, so I'd have to do all of the casting on-sight."
"And you know how?" Michonne asked skeptically.
"I've had a lot of time for research lately," the faux scientist replied earnestly. "Haven't exactly been the most productive member of society as of late, so I thought I'd learn a useful trade. Denise has more than medical books in that infirmary, turns out, and the ones on machining and ammunition have been more than a little educational."
"We couldn't guarantee your safety outside of the walls," Rick explained, though the more Eugene talked, the more appealing his idea sounded. He just wanted to make sure the man knew exactly what he was getting into.
"With all due respect," Eugene began, "you can't ensure it within the walls either, not with god knows how many mouth-breathers waiting to take us out."
"I'll go with you to check it out," Abraham offered. "We'll head out in the morning."
Rick nodded, glad Eugene would at least be taking reliable backup. "Make sure we can guard it," he ordered. "Scope out nearby places we could post people to keep a lookout, make sure no one sneaks up on you."
"You got it, boss," Eugene nodded. "Now someone pass me that bottle. Despite my steely exterior, my nerves could use some calmin' right now."
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"We always end up on a porch," Ivy chuckled, taking a long pull from the half full bottle before passing it over to Daryl.
"Seems that way," he smirked, gladly accepting the bourbon. "You think this ammo thing is gonna work?"
Ivy shrugged and rested her elbows on her knees. "It's not like we have any better ideas. The run was a bust as far as weapons go, so we might as well let Billy Ray Scientist give it a go."
"You been savin' that joke for a while?" he teased, passing the bottle back.
"I'll never tell," she winked, taking another sip, the warm liquid comforting as it slid down her throat. "We can't sit out here drinking and depleting your supply of smokes forever, ya know," Ivy noted, holding her hand out for one of the aforementioned smokes as the hunter removed them from his pocket. He lit two and passed one over to her. "We should really get some sleep."
"If either of us really wanted to sleep we'd be doin' it now," he remarked, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette.
She couldn't deny that. Daryl had never been much on sleep for as long as she'd known him, and she preferred to wait until she was dead on her feet, so to speak, before laying down to increase her chances of dreamless rest. The nightmares had been bad enough before she knew how close the Saviors were to finding them. She didn't want to think about how horrifying they'd be after the last couple of days they'd had.
"They're just dreams, ya know," Daryl attempted to comfort her. "Ain't none of the stuff that goes on in your head actually gonna happen."
"You can't know that, Daryl."
"I do," he insisted. "I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to ya. Neither will your brother."
"I'm not even worried about me," she admitted. "I mean, yeah, I'm scared of what would happen if he got ahold of me, but he's the kind of guy who uses the things you love against you. He'd get a lot more pleasure out of harming someone I care about and watching me suffer than actually hurting me."
"You seen that happen to other people?" he pried, knowing he probably shouldn't ask, but she would let him know if he was treading into territory she didn't want to discuss.
Ivy took a drag from her cigarette, letting the warm smoke swirl around in her lungs for a few seconds before exhaling, buying herself a little time before answering. "There was this woman named Heather who he brought in a couple of weeks after me. She was this gorgeous, petite little thing, and her husband was with her. He invited her to become one of his wives and she said no. He doesn't like being turned down, though," she explained. "He agreed to let her live like the rest of the citizens of the Sanctuary, but only if her husband was willing to fight one of his men."
"He died," Daryl concluded.
"He was murdered," the redhead corrected him. "See, what happened with Michonne in the ring never happens. The outsider never wins. He makes sure of it. The poor man went up against this giant motherfucker, must have been 300 pounds of solid muscle. Negan held up his end of the deal as far as Heather was concerned, but she had to watch the man she loved get his head bashed in right in front of her."
"What happened to her?"
"Some of the women say she fed herself to the biters," she shrugged. "Just jumped over the wall and let them have her. Others said Negan had his men kill her on the sly. Either way, she just disappeared one day without a trace."
"I see," Daryl nodded, taking another puff of his smoke.
"What I'm getting at here," she continued, "is that motherfucker can't find out about us, and he definitely can't find out Abe is my brother. Might as well paint a target on your foreheads."
"No one'll say anything," he assured her.
Ivy shook her head. "No one will have to say anything. If either of you try to play hero, keep your eye on me more than you do the others, he'll notice. Say what you will about him, but he's a perceptive motherfucker."
"Gotcha." It was a hard truth for him to swallow, but she was right. It'd be hard for both him and her brother to keep their instincts in check, but if they didn't she'd end up hurting in the long-run either way.
"What's the plan for tomorrow?" Ivy asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
Daryl shrugged and took another pull from his smoke. "Guess Eugene and Abe are headed out to scope out the ammo place, but seems like the rest of us will just be goin on like normal."
"Normal," she scoffed. "Like that's even a possibility right now."
"Gotta go on with our lives til somethin' goes down," he replied casually. "Might try to talk Rick into lettin' me go out to hunt. Meat's scarce lately."
"Think I could come with you?" Ivy dared to ask, knowing exactly what his response would be.
As she predicted, Daryl replied with a sharp "no" and a shake of his head. "Ain't safe out there, Ives. You know that."
"Not safe in here either," she shot back. "But I'm gonna go crazy just sitting here waiting. I need something to take my mind off of all of this."
"Then find ya a book to read in that library they started across the street. Help Carol make some casseroles for the old folk. You can find somethin, but ya ain't comin' out there with me."
"So we're just gonna sit here and pretend like I'm not going to talk you into it eventually, huh?" she smirked. "We're past puttin' on a show, Daryl. We'll argue about it for a while, then you'll end up letting me go just to shut me up."
"You're a real brat, ya know that?" he spat, rising up to stand over her as he cast his burnt-down filter into the grass. "Thinkin' you're just gonna bat those eyelashes at me and get your way, but it ain't happenin,' Ivy. This ain't some game. You were just goin' off about how Negan can't find out about whatever the fuck we have goin' on here, and now you want us to run off together into the woods? If he finds us what's he gonna assume?"
Ivy was on her feet then, chest-to-chest with the hunter as her chest heaved with anger and worry. "And if he finds you alone? I can see it now: He'll roll up to the gates with you in chains, threaten to chop your head off if we don't let him in, and that's if he even lets you keep your head that long. How're you gonna take care of yourself against his men out there alone? Hmm?"
Her dark blue eyes were wild with rage at the thought, and she was so close that Daryl could smell the smoke and bourbon on her breath as she squared up to him.
"They're watching us, Dixon," she hissed. "He's probably twenty feet from our gates right now, just out of sight. Hell, he can probably hear every bit of this conversation, and you want to go out there alone? And you think I'm the one being ridiculous." Her voice was rising with every word she spoke, and she felt the familiar panic coursing through her veins as she thought of everything that could happen to him out there. The conversation was no longer about her wanting to go out with him, but about how stupid it was that he wanted to go out in the first place.
"I can take care of myself," he threw back, offended at her assumption that he'd get himself captured.
"Really?" she scoffed. "So if you come up on a group of Saviors instead of whatever animal you think you're tracking you're gonna be able to take them all out with your crossbow and a little bit of luck?"
Daryl noticed her erratic breathing then. He could feel her chest heaving against his own, a slight tremble coursing through her body as she spoke, and suddenly the urge to calm her down overcame his own anger. She continued to lecture him on the dangers of his idea, but he ignored her words and instead began running his hand up and down her tensed arm.
She didn't seem to notice for a minute and just continued to get more and more worked up, so he did the same with his other hand until eventually he had both of her biceps gripped tightly in his calloused fingers.
"Ivy," he said softly. "Ivy, I need you to listen."
Her ranting stopped at the change in his voice, and she stared silently up into his hooded eyes, her chest still moving with her frantic breaths.
"I won't go," he swore softly. "Ok? I'll stay here, but ya need to calm down." He didn't even have time to think about the fact that he was letting the woman he was fuming mad at just a minute ago get her way. He was too concerned with making sure she didn't hyperventilate right in front of him. "Gotta breath slower, girl," he coaxed. "Ain't leavin,' I promise, but you gotta do that for me, ok?"
"I'm… sorry," she panted, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment as the reality of what was happening hit her. It was one thing for her to have a panic attack in front of her brother, but she hated for Daryl to see her as weak.
The hunter shook his head and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her tightly against his chest. "Nothin' to apologize for, Ivy," he insisted as he buried his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of smoke and floral shampoo. "You didn't do nothin' wrong. I'm not goin' anywhere. I know ya said I can't let that asshole see me lookin' out for ya, but I'm not gonna get too far from ya either way," he promised. "I'll stay here and we'll sit our asses in the watchtower or inventory weapons or whatever-the-fuck-else needs to be done, but I won't leave, alright?"
"Alright," she sighed against his neck, her breathing beginning to slow.
He loosened his grip on her then, allowing him to look down at her flushed face. The pinkness of her cheeks stood out in stark contrast to her pale, freckled complexion, but it didn't take away from her beauty. The fearful strength in her eyes had his own breath hitching in his lungs, and it didn't take him long to decide how he wanted the rest of the night to go.
He leaned down and, before he lost his nerve, pressed his lips against hers. A jolt ran through her body at the contact and her initial reaction was to pull back, but her body remained held in place by his strong arms, and it didn't take long before she'd succumbed to what she'd wanted all-along.
His mouth was warm against hers, and her lips instinctively opened to his hot tongue, allowing it to graze against the flats of her teeth. All thoughts of waiting until Negan was taken care of to kiss him again were wiped from her brain as she relaxed against him.
The way she melted into him was not lost on Daryl, and he couldn't help but let his hands roam down her waist and onto her hips as they kissed. Ivy's heart pounded against his own, but her breathing continued to calm the longer their lips remained connected. In that moment, he was her lifeline. The strength of his arms was keeping her grounded, and most importantly helping her forget the troubles that lurked just outside of the walls.
"Know you said you wanted to wait," he apologized as he came up for breath, "but I couldn't help-"
"Shut up, Daryl," she hissed, plowing her lips into his once again, her inhibitions completely gone. "That house across the road still empty?"
"Yeah," he breathed against her mouth, his heart pounding at what she was insinuating.
"We'll go down the street, loop behind the houses before we cross," she ordered as she pulled back a few inches. Neither of them really had a room to speak of, Daryl usually taking the couch while Ivy often camped out in the floor of Michonne's room. "Keep any prying eyes that may be lurking out of our business."
"Like the way you think, girl," the hunter smiled, grabbing her hand and leading her into the shadows behind their house.
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The pair practically crashed through the unlocked back door of the large, tan house, their heavy footsteps echoing through the lifeless room. Empty frames hung on the walls, their photos long-ago removed by the first residents of Alexandria. The only other sound in the home was the gentle rumble of the empty refrigerator, and the furniture was covered with a light spattering of dust.
Ivy led Daryl over to the large, ornamental rug in the middle of the living room before pushing him to the floor. In her mind there was no time to make their way upstairs to an actual bed. Once he was on his back, she knelt down over him, straddling his hips as she wasted no time whipping her sweater over her head and casting it to the side.
Her pale, freckled skin glistened in the faint moonlight that leaked through the windows, and the hunter found himself entranced for a moment. He felt like an idiot as he laid there gaping at her, unable to even work up the brain power to move his own hands.
Ivy read his reaction like a book and smirked in satisfaction as she grabbed his strong, calloused hands and brought them to cup her breasts over her bra. "I want you so fucking bad, Dixon," she hissed as he finally got his wits about him and began to caress her soft, exposed skin. His surprisingly light touch set her skin on fire, and she couldn't help but grind herself against him, desperate for friction.
"Know what ya mean," he replied huskily. Before she knew what was happening, she felt her back connect with the firm softness of the rug as he switched their positions, the hunter now hunched over top of her. She leaned up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him toward her.
A growl rumbled through his chest when he felt her teeth lightly bite down on his bottom lip, and he shifted so he was laying completely on top of her. His hands glided up and down her smooth sides, feeling the soft dip of her waist before moving down to the curve of her jean-covered hips. He ran his fingertips over the sensitive skin just beneath her waistband and she trembled at the sensation as she gripped his biceps firmly; biceps she'd been dying to get her hands on for weeks as she watched them flex under the weight of his crossbow.
Ivy leaned up and buried her mouth in the dip above his collar bone, alternating between laying light kisses over it and grazing her teeth over the sensitive flesh. Her hands moved downward, eventually grasping the bottom of his dark flannel, and she didn't hesitate in freeing the buttons one-by-one.
All thoughts of self-consciousness of the scars marring his back left Daryl's mind as he felt her deft fingers at work. He could only think about the feel of her under him and what was to come.
"Wanna be on top of you, Daryl," she whispered against the skin of his neck, and he wasn't about to deny her that, despite his predatorily instincts. He grasped her hips firmly, and before she could blink he'd managed to shift their positions so she was once again straddling his firm body.
She leaned down as she released the last button and began trailing a path with her tongue from his beltline to his throat. The pressure in his jeans increased ten-fold at her actions, and he pulled her face to his, his strong hands wrapped up in her strawberry hair as he held her lips firmly against his.
The whole time Ivy, almost involuntarily, kept her hips grinding against his, the hunter's erection creating an impossibly amazing friction against her most sensitive parts.
"Ivy," Daryl panted against her lips, but the redhead wasn't slowing down. Her tongue still thrust against the edges of his lips and across his teeth. "Ivy," he tried again, this time forcing her away from him slightly. "Ain't got no protection. You got one of those birth control implants or somethin?"
"Fuck," Ivy sighed, "no. Never liked the idea of that shit. Shoulda hit up Maggie for their stash of condoms," she chuckled. "Not like they have any use for them."
"Can't then," Daryl sighed, leaning his head back against the rug. "Can't risk it with all this shit we got goin on."
He expected disappointment to cross Ivy's face, but instead he only saw determination. "Doesn't mean we have to rule everything out," she smirked, her long fingers moving to the zipper of his jeans. "Stand up."
"Don't gotta," he insisted, though his body told a different story as he automatically rose to his feet while Ivy remained on her knees in front of him.
"Wanna," she smiled up at him as she released the button on his worn pants and shimmied them down his toned legs.
He didn't even have time to feel vulnerable standing there in front of her in nothing but his boxers before she'd also moved those out of the way and wrapped one soft hand firmly around his eager cock, the other moving to gently grasp his balls.
"Fuck, Ives," he growled. "Whaddaya doin?"
"You'll see," she purred as she rubbed her cheek lightly against his member, her lips moving to spread over the head soon after. His body jerked eagerly at the feeling of her warm, wet mouth and his hands reached down to tangle in her wavy hair.
She hummed as she made her way up and down his stiff, velvety cock, the reverberations in her throat setting his nerve endings on fire. Daryl was finding it hard to keep himself together as her expert hands made their way to cup his balls, tugging at them lightly.
"Shit, Red," he hissed. "That's fucking good."
'Shit fuck, Red. Gonna blow any fucking second if you keep that up.'
Ivy froze in her tracks as Negan's voice echoed through her brain, and Daryl stiffened at her sudden change in demeanor.
"Ivy?" he asked gently. "You alright? What's goin on?"
'Jesus, Red, there's nothing I want more than those hot lips around my cock."
"I'm fine." Ivy ignored Negan's voice as it echoed through her brain and tried to focus on the beautiful, kind man in front of her as she continued to pleasure him, eliciting moans from the hunter's parted lips.
"Fuuuuuck, honey, that's it. Don't fucking stop."
"Shut up," she whispered against Daryl's erection, fighting the urge to physically shake her head to get rid of the memories.
"What?" Daryl breathed, his head still thrown back in pleasure as his hands weaved into her hair, gently massaging her scalp.
"Nothing," she assured him, running her warm tongue along his length to take his mind away from her quiet outburst. It worked like a charm, and he hissed at her action, all conscious thought wiped from his mind as his blood rushed downward.
"Best I ever had, Red. Jesus fucking Christ. Would make you do this every night, but the other ladies might get jealous."
"Motherfucker," Ivy hissed, pushing away from Daryl abruptly, the man visibly shocked at her sudden withdrawal as she backed up to sit against the wall and laid her head in her hands. "I'm sorry," she offered, trying to keep the tears that stung her eye lids at bay. "I can't be here with you, doing this, when all I can hear is him. He's in my head, Daryl. I can't get rid of him."
Though he was inwardly a little disappointed that things had ended, Daryl wasted no time pulling his boxers back on and joining her on the floor. He took her face in his hands, forcing her to look him in the eye.
"I'm the one who should be sorry," he admitted, his words thick with guilt. "Pushed ya into somethin' when ya weren't ready. You didn't do nothin' wrong. Not your fault what that fucker did to ya."
"I know," she nodded, staring into his bright blue eyes, "I'm just pissed that he still has this hold on me. It's not fair to you that I have to hold back."
"Don't worry about me," Daryl insisted, leaning in to place a kiss on her forehead. "You don't owe me nothin'."
"You forgetting about that time you saved my life?"
"And you got us out of the Sanctuary," he reminded her. "That was all your plan, and it worked. Got us home. Who knows what the fuck we would have done without you. So we're even, ya got it?"
Ivy nodded and offered him a small smile. "Can't wait til that fucker's dead. Then I'll be able to move on."
Daryl smirked at her sudden surge of determination. "And I can't wait to see ya put an arrow 'tween his eyes."
"He'll wish he had just gotten an arrow by the time I'm done with him." Her eyes darkened at the statement. Deep down she knew those were the words of someone who would have been considered a psychopath in the old world, but in the apocalypse the desire for revenge was something no one was immune from. "When that's done, and we can finally rest, we'll finish this. I want to explore every tiny aspect of this relationship with you, Daryl, and we're sure as hell going to survive long enough to see that through."
"Damn right we are," he smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. "Never had a better reason to stay alive than bein' with you."