Disclaimer: I own no part of TWD, or its characters. I am merely borrowing them with the intent to return slightly more used then I got them. It shouldn't be a problem though AMC's not using them 'til November! ; )

Notes: Alright peeps enjoy this and the next chapter it's the last 'fluff' I guess you'd call it before we dive back into some dark territory again in true WD style! Muhahaha

And Yes it does have Everything to do with the summary for this story to the reviewer who caught that! You get a cookie! ; D

Everyone knows you can't be too happy in the universe of TWD, that's just dangerous! One minute you're making mud pies having a good ole time by a riverbank and the next second BAM Walker chow!

(Don't worry I promise not to feed Fin or Daryl to Walkers…

…as long as they don't make any mud pies… : P )

Huge thanks to the readers and reviewers and as always to my Beta Angelinaa!

Chapter Twenty

(Fin's POV)

It's probably early afternoon when I wake again. Without a watch it's difficult to tell, beyond a rough estimation.

The heat hasn't quite hit staggering yet even with the sun clearly on the rise; slanting through the window at a high enough angle to set ablaze a bright white rectangle of glaring light on the plain grey carpet; one leg of my pants lies caught in the sunlight where they fell crumpled and hastily forgotten last night.

The air is less stifling then it was yesterday, noticeably so; which makes it either early in the day still, well before noon; or the heat of summer is finally giving way to the first hints of fall. I'm personally praying for the beginning of fall. I've had enough blistering hot days under the sun.

Daryl is still asleep against me, one sleep heavy arm thrown over my side, the sheets are twisted around my legs trapping me. He stirs when I try to untangle myself from his limbs and the disheveled top-sheet his fingers tightening briefly over my arm.

" …er you going?" His mumbled question is barely audible with his face pressed into the pillow.

"Bathroom,"

He opens one eye watching me for a moment, like he's questioning whether I plan to sneak away again while he's sleeping. We stare at each other for a long moment.

"Seriously, I think I'm old enough to go to the bathroom alone, I'm also naked if you haven't noticed; where else am I gonna go?"

He shifts his body turning his head on the pillow to watch me with both eyes, "I noticed."

OhGoodLord. I blush turning away trying to ignore the way my stomach flips and even my nipples tighten under his gaze. "I'm going to the bathroom now; try to refrain from being a total caveman and stay here."

He grumbles something I don't fully catch before shifting onto his stomach and burying his face back in the pillow.

I get up from the bed and cross to the still wide open bedroom door leading to the empty hallway beyond. The bathroom is two doors down on the right; and it is my intended destination—my first one at least. I check the water when I'm through and find the faucet produces nothing; not even a gargle of sound. These pipes are long since empty; probably hooked to a neighborhood well that's run dry without the pumps.

If I moved in the right direction originally we should be close to one of the creeks that eventually feed into the giant lake about 25 miles further west...assuming I stayed on course while I was running the last two days that is…I made quite a few twisting turns laying false trails and doubling back that first day mainly; but I can't be that far off.

Either way we can't stay here. We need water especially after the last few days of exertion; and last night…or this morning I guess? We should probably be rehydrating ourselves instead of jumping each other every few hours. I blame the time apart for my inability to keep my hands to myself…not that I've ever had much success keeping my hands off him before; Hell I never even tried.

I stare at myself in the mirror. The slight headache twinging over my eyebrows combined with the parched feeling in my throat tells me I'm already dangerously dehydrated. Daryl probably isn't much better—hell Daryl's probably worse since he followed me without supplies. I should have thought of that sooner.

I frown and move further down the hall since there's little else I can do in the restroom without water; getting cleaned up is a pipedream at this point. I head into the kitchen to begin the search for survival items I was too exhausted to do last night. I start by opening the pantry, than move through the cabinets and cupboards gathering the supplies I find that we can use; feeling only slightly ridiculous for doing this naked.

After about ten minutes I've got two bottles of Gatorade from the back of the pantry that were partially hidden behind a large supply of paper towel rolls—a box of stale graham crackers and a plastic bin of recycling still overflowing with bottles and jugs that never made it to the curb long ago and might be of some use, if we had water to fill them.

I gather the items on the edge of the countertop pausing to stare out the back door at the sky overhead—white puffy clouds are rolling across the horizon, no sign of rain. I should check the neighborhood yards for a pool or any other container that might be holding water still…but I can't do that naked.

I grin, entertaining that idea for a very brief moment. Wouldn't that just make Daryl's head explode?

I need clothes, and my stolen hospital scrubs are looking more than a little rough after my flight through the woods the last few days. The thin cotton material already worn nearly thread-bare when I got my hands on them weren't exactly designed for climbing trees or getting snagged on branches. Most of the material is now riddled with tiny picks and minute holes that have started to fray wider and wider with their continued abuse. It's also difficult to blend in wearing something that bright green.

I move back down the hall checking bedrooms finding the second one looking like it might hold what I need judging by the posters on the wall, and the general state of the room. I sift through the drawers of a girl who was obviously younger than me… quite licentious…by a lot. Yikes.

If my mother had ever seen me in something like this she'd have grounded me for life. Even after college. The shorts are about the right size; they're actually a size too big for me; but the length is…lacking. I frown at the cut-offs unsure if they're store bought or the left over relic of a home-made teenage rebellion. Considering most of the other clothing I'm sifting through are just as strategically ripped and holey I'm going to guess they were a specific fashion statement. Somebody had rather hip parents, or maybe just absent ones too busy working to notice what their daughter wore...

I hesitate with my hands over a pair of artfully distressed holey jeans. They would offer me more modesty but they're those detested skinny leg kind and I can only imagine the way they'd cling to me in this heat. No thanks. I pull the shorts on well aware that without panties they're short enough I might flash somebody if I'm not careful. Good thing the only person around to flash is Daryl.

I smirk a little at that thought grabbing a rather out of place looking button up shirt that's constructed of a soft gauzy cotton with a barely visible flower pattern on its faded pale blue stripes. I slip a black camisole over my head even pulled down it still leaves a wide strip of pale skin between its hem and the low riding short's waistband. I try to ignore it and slip my arms into the flowered shirt which is at least long enough to reach the top button on my stolen shorts.

I catch sight of my refection in the long mirror tacked to the wall. Its frame ringed with faded boy band stickers and photos of a young blonde with several different friends; a blonde who looks a lot like Beth—except for the streaks of pink and blue in her artfully twisted curls.

I feel a pang of sadness for her; wondering if she's still alive out there somewhere to missing this place and her old life. I frown before shaking my head, using the brush on her dresser to unbraid my hair. I smooth it back down into a wild fall of twisted waves I leave loose for the moment instead of returning it to its usual braid.

I face the mirror again and I look nothing like me; at least not the me I'm used to seeing the last few years…I look like the old me…well; if these shorts were about four inches longer…I had underwear longer then these things.

I give them five minutes before this frayed disaster of a hem is crawling up my butt crack and I'm ripping them back off in disgust. I snicker. I can only hope Daryl's awake by that point so I can fully appreciate his expression. He'd probably have a heart attack right there on the spot.

I'm bent over the dresser trying to find anything else in a second drawer that I can use when I hear him clear his throat behind me. I glance over my shoulder to find him leaning against the doorframe nonchalantly wearing just his pants. There's an odd expression on his face…

I can't help but grin taking a pretty good guess at what's distracting him. "Daryl. You look like you're having a Dukes of Hazzard flashback."

The expression only gets more poleaxed. "Pfft, you're not old enough to know the Dukes."

I wiggle my ass at him rebelliously and grin wider when he flushes. "Wanna bet?! You forget I was raised in South Carolina. Think if you get arrested these shorts will distract the Sheriff long enough to get you to sneak out?" I bat my lashes at him.

Daryl growls eyes narrowing at that thought. "You shake your ass at Rick wearing those'n we're gonna have a problem."

I burst out laughing almost falling head first in the drawer because I forgot Rick used to be a cop, and showing Daryl this much leg does interesting things to his expression… and other parts of him.

He shakes his head at me. "Seriously Babe, You're not old enough for the Dukes, re-runs don't count."

"Says you!" I shrug dismissing him partially to continue digging through the drawer in front of me even though I've decided that the search is pretty much futile. "So it ended the year before I was born…we still watched it; how do you think Luke got his name?!" I grin despite the flash of sadness just my cousin's name brings. God I miss him, he never came back…I hope he's okay.

"That was Luke's favorite show until we were probably twelve…Hell when I was sixteen I begged Joe and Eric to find me an old beat up Charger and help me re-furbish it. My uncle found one for me too but my Mom had a cow; she thought I'd turn myself into a smear on the pavement with that much horsepower…so unfair; Eric got to keep the car." I glance back at him.

Daryl lips quirk up, "Somehow I don't think Luke was watching it for the General Lee."

He's eyeing my borrowed shorts again expression shifting dangerously if I plan to get anything done in the next hour… "Don't think I fully appreciated the shows better qualities 'til they were re-runs either…"

I snort and roll my eyes finally giving up my fruitless search through the drawers. I'd probably have better luck finding something I'd like to wear outside in a boy's room; which is sad. I climb back to my feet turning to face him still in the doorway. "And you were how old when the show ended?"

He hesitates, before answering me. "Seven, maybe Eight?" He stares at me for a moment. Both of us well aware we've never discussed age. I knew he was older than me; now I know by how much. I actually thought he was a bit older…not that it matters these days really; who cares about that shit anymore?

I don't even know how old I am… I know how old I was; but time doesn't mean what it used to now. The world we live in now days tends to blend into just a rough way to measure the seasons—the weather and what you need to be prepared to do to survive in the current climate and it's challenges far more important these days than birthdays or milestones.

Still now that I'm thinking about it I have to wonder am I twenty-seven…or maybe twenty-eight? God what if I'm twenty-nine? Has it been that long?

I can feel my face scrunching up and Daryl frowns at me. I know he's done the rough math too I don't want him to think I care about that. I let my confusion show staring up at him. "I have no idea how old I am." It's such a bizarre thing to think about now that I'm considering it.

He scoffs shrugging one shoulder dismissively. "Join the party, 'an dressed like that you look like jailbait." I mock glare at him while he grins…actually grins at me. I wasn't sure he knew how to do that…

"What were you doing in the kitchen earlier?"

I guess he heard that, I wonder if that's what brought him out; was it the sound of me tinkering or the passing of time that made him nervous and pulled him out of bed? I don't want him to worry that I'm going to bolt on him again.

"I found power-aid earlier; we need to move on. We need water…and something other than stale graham crackers."

He lets me pass after a brief tense moment in the doorway with him eying me, making me flush and look away. I'm not certain he's not about to grab me; that I'm not about to have my butt tossed onto the double bed and these shorts yanked back off. It does feel suspiciously like being stalked when he follows me down the hallway back into the previously raided kitchen.

I throw a teasing "Quit staring at my ass," at him and nearly trip over my own feet when he tells me "Quit wiggling it," without missing a beat his tone gravely and low having a serious and instantaneous effect on my rapid pulse.

Daryl takes in the two bottles of power-aid; mine more than half finished earlier when I discovered it, trying to combat the headache starting behind my eyes before it could get worse. He picks it up and hands it back leaning against the counter opposite me spot crossing his arms and watching me sip at the warm liquid pulling a face at the tart flavor.

"Blarf, no wonder they left this stuff behind. I'd have rather found water." Even stale plastic tasting water wouldn't be so bad. I stare into the bottle's mouth with one eye wondering what made it so horrid. "This flavor is wretched and I don't understand why they chose to make it this color…it even looks disturbing."

He shrugs again leaning against the countertop arms crossed. "Wretched or not you're dehydrated. Drink it." I eye him as I take another sip, grateful whatever issue my stomach has been suffering from the last few weeks has worked itself out with some extra sleep. There's precious little to drink; the last thing we need is me puking it up in the sink. I seriously doubt it would taste any better in reverse. I swallow another mouthful still watching him. "What and you're not?"

He shrugs holding out his hand for the bottle, taking a sip when I pass it to him and pursing his lips. "Yeah, that's disgusting," He agrees pushes it back at me. "Finish it."

"Such a gentlemen. I'm not drinking that one too," I tilt my chin toward the bottle he's ignoring unopened on the countertop. "So you'd better get to drinking." He's no good to me unconscious or delirious from dehydration. I can't drag him through the woods.

"Don't sass me girl."

I pause with the bottle half-way to my lips again feeling my brow climb, because if that's the look he's going to give me when I do, the last thing I'm going to do is stop. I bat my lashes at him fully aware his gaze has left my eyes; is moving down my body heating my insides and accelerating my pulse.

"What are you gonna do, Daryl? Spank me?"

And Holy Shit.

I almost drop the bottle I forgot I was holding under that look. My breath rushes out with the tingled flash of excitement instantly zipping through my core; racing along my veins superheating my skin and making me flush; my head suddenly feels a bit dizzy.

"Put it down." His tone is gruff and commanding it makes my breath catch in the back of my throat.

Oh boy.

What if I don't? I raise the bottle to my lips anyway taking another sip and swallowing it slowly quirking my brow in blatant challenge. Temporarily distracted and a little fascinated as I always am watching his eyes shift to that staggering swirling grey blue hue. His gaze darkening and heating watching me tease him before setting the bottle back on the countertop behind me. The movement twisting me just enough when I do that I fail to see his arm snapping out to grab me until his fingers have already ensnared my upper arm.

I gasp feeling him yank me towards him, dragging me the short distance across the kitchen. Daryl turns as I step towards him almost as if we were sparing. His other hand coming up to my waist, shifting us so he's behind me pinning me loosely between his arms his palms moving to grip the counter on either side of my hips; trapping me. And okay, now I'm facing the counter he was just leaning against… I tilt my head watching him over my shoulder wondering where exactly this is going and equally hopeful, fascinated by the dark look he shoots me, the way it shivers down my spine.

When he speaks again it's right in my ear making me shiver harder. "That's the second time you've brought it up; it's like your askin for it."

Oh my god. I lick my lips. "What if I was?" What if part of me was curious to see if he'd actually do it? Curious to see what that might be like; Daryl being just a little bit rough…based on the intensity already thrumming under my skin in reaction parts of me like that idea. A lot.

"Already told you girl; I aint no Damn Saint." His voice has dropped an octave; gone sinful and thick. Goosebumps break out over my skin at his words, a trembling quiver of heat slips down my spine pooling low in my belly.

His hands are sliding down my sides. Then rising pushing the thin almost see through hem of my over-shirt up over my back revealing more of my skin, taking the camisoles edge with it. Before his hands slide down over my skin dragging his calloused palms maddeningly slow over my sides until they're low enough to envelop my hips. His first two fingers pressing just over the point of my hip, his thumbs skating over my lower back; hands are nearly traversing my waist. Having him touch me like this always makes me feel oddly delicate and wickedly influenced.

I bend forward leaning further into the counter under his touch and breathe out his name on a sigh, tilting my hips back against him in silent invitation every nerve in my body leaping in counterpoint to the very male sound of Daryl's husky growl. I drop forward almost hiding my face between both my arms suddenly fighting to breathe without whimpering with the onslaught of desire spiraling inside me; driving me to squirm and gasp with overwhelming need.

This shouldn't be hot, it really shouldn't be…he's barely touching me; but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't amazingly turned on right now. So wet I can feel the heat radiating against my own inner thighs growing hotter, tighter more desperate as every neuron in my brain is quickly over-ridden with the drive for one thing. And I can't help but bait him further, damn the consequences…I have a feeling I'm going to rather enjoy them.

"So you going to stand there thinking about it or do it?" I bite my lip and risk glancing over my shoulder, peeking at him from under my loose hair, leaving it loose against my back has allowed some of it to fall forward now; partially hiding me and the intense flush in my cheeks from his eyes. My breath catches seeing him watch me with that look and oh God.

That doesn't help at all…God no…it just intensifies the need pulsating under my skin… makes it so much worse and if he doesn't touch me soon I'm going to lose my damn mind, claw his clothes off and make sure he knows exactly how much I need this right now…

His hands skate down over the material of my ridiculous shorts, hooking his thumbs under the hem against my thighs before brushing his palms over the back of my legs tracing just under the curve of my ass with me bent forward struggling not to actually fucking pant and moan his name when he's barely touched me and I'm still fully clothed.

I lose the battle, a desperate groan tearing out of my throat my forehead pressed to the cool counter's surface slowly gathering heat from my ragged breathe pressed against it. My eyes slip shut when his thumbs drag over my inner thighs so close; but not close enough... it's like torture…

He hesitates a moment too long, his hands drawn back up my skin fingers circling my hips to press against me and I think I know what the problem is…

"Daryl relax, it's not abuse; you're not hitting me if we're both playing a game." He glances at me, uncertainty and desire amplified in those gorgeous bright blue eyes.

"It's not just that, last night too, I was too rough…Don't wanna hurt you, you're so fuckin tiny." He shakes his head obviously fighting the idea. My ever chivalrous caveman.

"You've never hurt me before."

His mouth twists into an almost frown, but his hands don't leave my sides. "Been careful; or tried to—you're so small and I'm…" he doesn't say it, flushes fast and bright eyes darting away suddenly going absurdly shy on me all over again.

I'm quite certain and have been from the beginning, though I've never asked him outright, that I'm the only one he's ever been with this way.

Sometimes I wonder if that's because he used to be so closed off with everyone because of his past; That he simply never had a chance to get close enough to someone for any kind of sexual relationship to form… though people can certainly have sex without being emotionally close. I realize that, especially these days. Not Daryl though; he never struck me even from his grumpy beginning as that type of person.

He's too raw just under the surface. Letting someone get close to him, in any capacity too big a deal for such a flippant encounter.

I've also wondered if he was with someone in the past and they said something to him, or something didn't quite work out right…he's so fixated on trying not to hurt me half the time. I could see that scenario playing out for him as a young man, and wonder if that only made his insecurities that much worse. One awkward encounter and then having him avoid all other intimacy in reaction unable to handle the fallout or the rejection…

For a guy already deeply scared by almost every personal interaction he'd grown up with that would turn even the thought of human interaction into something more than horrifying. It would be a nightmare to be avoided at all cost. Finding someone he wanted to be with, and then worrying endlessly he'd hurt them not just by lapsing into the habits his family taught him; but in other ways he couldn't control because of size.

If someone told him he might hurt someone even jokingly; even if they meant it at as a compliment I could see him taking it completely out of context; the idea freaking him out so much he never touched anyone again. Part of me wants to ask him; unravel that mystery from his past. But I don't know how, and I'm not even sure he'd answer.

I can try to soothe whatever fears he still carries after all this time. It's obvious he continues to worry about it.

"Daryl, I like it when you forget to be careful. I like it when you make me forget where I am and how to breathe and sometimes I can't even remember my own name." His breath rushes out sounding a bit like a nervous laugh. He closes his mouth around the sound, stopping too soon denying even this small admission.

"When I'm begging you to fuck me—" He curses hands tightening on my hips eyes slipping shut. "—does it sound like I'm in pain?" He shakes his head slowly drawing in a deep shuddering breath.

"Fuck." His head tips back and he just breathes for a moment calming himself. I can feel his hands shaking with nervous indecision or desire; maybe a bit of both. His tremors work their way into me where his fingertips are pressed to my skin making my stomach give a nervous flip.

"Would it make you feel better if I said my safe word is Dixon?" I can't help but tease him a little; try to ease the tension radiating off him in thick waves.

Something shifts behind those eyes that my insides like recognizing instantly; something heated and liquid and dangerously hot.

"Can't be Dixon; might get confusing with you already screaming my name."

This man does nothing half-way. I groan, bite my lip feeling so much heat pouring through me I might explode right here before he's even touched me. I prop myself up on one elbow, hand on my chin shooting him my best innocent smile over my shoulder making sure I catch his eyes before I tease him.

"So my safe word should be Rick?"

The snarl and smack I get for that is instantaneous the words barely out of my mouth before I feel the sharp sting of his hand on my left butt cheek about knocking my arm out from under me with the forward jolt. I collapse against the counter top in awe over the little zing of pleasure that bolts through me at his touch. I'm laughing and gasping at the same time flooded with another wash of delicious heat hearing him growl behind me. "What I say 'bout sassing me?"

"So that's a 'no' on shouting Rick's name then?"

I squeak and gasp when Daryl's hand smacks my ass again even though I was expecting it this time. The bright sting making me jump forward and gasp again feeling his hand cupping me this time instead of drawing back; his fingers sliding around my hips tilting me back almost roughly towards him. "Keep it up and see where it gets ya."

Trouble is I like where it's getting me…

I groan and press my cheek to the counter feeling him rub his hard length against me even through our clothes. His name is a breathy moan that another time I might find embarrassing to hear coming from my mouth; but not right now…right now all I can think about is the heat between my legs and the sting of his hand print on my skin making my heart race and my breath quicken. "Daryl…please."

"You sure 'bout this?" I nod still pressed against the counter.

"I like you wild and out of control," Daryl groans hands tightening over my hips so hard I gasp. "Maybe I want to see how loud you can make me scream while we don't have to worry about an audience." I tell him, a little surprised at my own daring.

His hands are moving to my waist, slipping between my heated skin and clasp on my shorts. "Hell has gotten into you lately?"

I can't answer for a moment feeling the material slip down my legs to pool at my feet. I kick it away, start to reach back for him only to have my wrists captured; my palms pressed back to the edge of the countertop. I grip the laminate edge white knuckled with both hands considering his question for a moment, wondering myself, no matter how rhetorical it might have been.

I realize I honestly have no idea. I feel like I have absolutely no self-control. Maybe it's because I haven't seen him for weeks. Whatever the reason, he doesn't seem to be complaining. I grin, feeling wicked rubbing myself against the prominent bulge tenting his zipper between us deciding to answer him anyway. "You; and if you're not pounding inside me in the next ten seconds I'm going to go out of my fucking mind…"

"Fuck, I swear you're trying to kill me..."

"It's not a bad way to go…" He grunts in agreement but remains torturously still behind me. "Daryl, please…" my voice has gone all breathless without meaning to, the last word turning into a soft sound that I might call a whimper if it had come from anyone but me.

He curses again pressing his hands right next to mine on the countertop tilting forward to rest his forehead against my shoulder, his breath hot and distracting against my skin.

"Quit girl, you don't know what you're askin…"

The Hell I don't. I rock back against him gripping his wrists with my fingers; scratching my nails up his bare forearms feeling him shudder against my back in response.

"Fuck me, please—" I lean away from him have to twist halfway around so I can reach back and slide my fingers through his hair. Daryl presses his face to the back of my neck sweeping my hair aside to slide his teeth over my skin; nipping over the little knot between my shoulder blades at the base of my neck. The sensation bolting through me without warning; instant and sweet, weakening my knees. "Really, really fuck me…I'll tell you if it's too much…please…"

One hand has dropped to his belt. I groan licking my lips hearing his zipper slide.

Daryl's left hand moves to my back, pressing against my skin so I bend further into the counter gripping its edge impossibly tighter with both my hands again. A desperate sound tumbles out of my mouth which I might find embarrassing if I thought about it, and if I could give a damn about that right now.

Daryl's hands slide back over my skin, trace the contours of my ass practically thrust back at him. His left hand slips around me, dips between my thighs tracing my edges making me jump into his hand gasping. He curses, voice low and tight, breathless with just a hint of awe. "You like that don't you?"

I moan in answer eyes squeeze shut all my concentration centered on his fingers sliding over my folds.

"Guess you really want it…" Oh god. I'm practically clawing at the counter surface. I cry out, gasping and shuddering feeling another wash of heat between my legs when Daryl's hand slaps sharply against my ass completely unexpected; shocking the Hell out of me and making me moan. I didn't even bring up Rick's name…guess he felt like he still owed me for the last few weeks, and I'm not exactly complaining…

I gasp again; press my cheek against the counter. "How do you do that?"

He pauses for a moment uncertainty creeping into his tone with his quiet reply, "Do what?"

I glance back at him over my shoulder making sure I catch his eyes before I speak watching him flush and feeling incredibly flushed myself from head to toe. "Drive me crazy…Turn me into a total slut?"

He curses, hands tightening over my hips; tilting me forward so he can press two fingers against me from behind. I watch him swallow slowly eyes dropping to my back again, his other hand skating over my skin pressing me into the position he wants before he parts me driving into my heat with his long fingers.

I groan my whole spine convulsing around the sensation; curling up until he presses my back flat once more with his other hand; effectively pushing my hips back into his palm. He curls the two fingers buried inside me and I feel it rip through me all the way to my toes.

I gasp and shudder rolling my hips into his hand because I need him to move, give me the friction my body so desperately craves. I'm begging him again and I don't even remember opening my mouth…god I'm losing my mind. And then I really do because his fingers withdraw from my folds leaving me shaking my head in denial and rocking back trying to reach him again; I succeeding driving his fingers into me again only to have them yanked back to smack my ass one more time. I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming.

"You want me to fuck you, you gotta ask."

Ohmy,God. I nod so fast my vision swims; or maybe that's because I can't seem to breathe beyond a simpering gasp, my knees feel like they might give out… "God yes please! Please Daryl…Fuck!"

I collapse against the counter using its solid frame to hold me up with his fingers plunging into me again; spreading my wet heat against my thighs with every glide of his hand against my folds. I rock my hips towards him gasping and moaning begging him not to stop little slivers of electric current shooting out from my core; trembling along my thighs and through my chest. Sharp bursting sparks dancing in the dark space behind my eyelids now clamped shut trying to remember how to breathe. And all I can do is gasp for more, shuddering and shaking around his touch. Cursing when he stops just before my muscles can seize and tighten around his irresistible fingers in sweet release.

"Not yet," his hands slide down both sides of my spine, graze back up my sides skating around to slip under my shirt lifting my chest from the counter so his palms can slide over my skin his fingers rolling and pinching my already taut nipples making me clench my teeth and hiss with the sensations leaping straight from his fingers to the tingling firestorm swirling in my core.

"You wanna scream my name? I wanna feel you do it with that tight perfect pussy wrapped around my cock."

My brain just broke. It must have. I've died and gone to heaven, or maybe this is hell—this sinfully wicked slow torture climbing toward ecstasy only to have it withheld at the last moment.

"Daryl…please…now."

I rock back feel his fingers tighten over my skin; his other hand has left my skin; I can feel him shift closer behind me; guiding his head against my entrance; coating him with the liquid honey that's already slipped from my core with his previous touch. I groan and tense every muscle in my body tightening; locking up in anticipation. I gasp scramble briefly against the smooth counter's surface seeking a handhold feeling him part me; pressing slowly forward stretching and gliding against my innermost walls even as they tighten and clench spasming in response to his torturously slow invasion. I have to press my face against my forearm, my teeth biting into my own skin to stop the desperate sob of need working its way up my throat.

I've never burned like this before; so intense; I'm wound so tight and he's so engorged he barely fits—even Daryl reacts to it, feeling the difference. He groans pressing into me the sound deep and wicked; resonating through me where we're joined making me shiver and arch. His fingers press to my skin holding me perfectly still so he can rock his hips forward and back driving himself achingly deeper inch by fraught tight spasming inch while I claw at the counter's surface and feel my knees start to buckle.

His hands tighten over my hips lifting and shoving me further against the firm surface of the counter top so I have no choice but to lift up onto my toes; his weight driving me forward with the steady press of his hips into mine. The solid counter front presses to my thighs trapping me at the same time Daryl thrusts forward in a single quick burst burying himself all the way to his thick base. He's so deep it feels like he's in my stomach, fire pours through my veins drums in my throat with my pulse.

"Okay?" I've never heard his voice sound so tight and strained.

"Shut up and fuck me," he twitches, pulling a rush of quivering heat from my body in response so powerful my eyes tear.

And then he draws back almost leaving me completely; pauses there just at my entrance while my muscles flex and tighten before he plunges back inside so hard and fast all I see is white light. I cry out, lean all the way into the counter with my hands actually pressed to the wall so my thighs are pressed to the flat surface; barely noticing the drawer handle denting into my skin with each frenzied thrust of his hips against me. I bite my lip thrash and feel like I'm going out of my mind.

I'm going to die if he stops, or maybe die if he keeps pushing me closer to whatever the hell it is I feel building inside me. I can't even call it release its more than that; it feels like an explosion of every nerve in my body building, tightening faster and harder and I'm going to pass out because I can't breathe; just sob breathlessly begging him for more. Sparks are dancing over my vision and black and red tinging the edges of my world and my core locks around him when his palm drops to my ass one more time stinging and sending me rocketing out of control and absolutely screaming his name, and god's and a couple of 'fucks' but most definitely his name.

My knees give out, my whole body lost, no longer under my control squeezing and tightening impossibly around him thrusting so deep and fast it should hurt, but just the opposite It's never felt so god damn good.

And he's right, this is dangerous because I don't want to stop feeling like this, it's powerful and all-consuming and I'm going up in flames and spiraling down until I feel him shudder whole body going rigid behind me after his last powerful thrust. His hands locked around my hips hard enough to leave fingertip bruises against my skin and barely feel them; too lost in the sensation of heat as I feel him swell inside me and his climax fill my already tightening and spasming inner walls so tight I wonder how I'm not actually hurting him.

His hands leave my sides to brace against the counter near my sides, pelvis rocking almost unconsciously against me still slipping him slowly from my channel. I gasp at the loss; certain I would collapse right here if I wasn't already being held up.

"Babe?"

"Can't talk right now." My voice is too thick, hoarse from screaming muffled by the firm surface of the counter so nicely supporting me. "all…fuzzy…" I manage to get one hand off the wall now inches from my face and into the air beside me wiggling my fingers in vague demonstration.

He sounds out of breath, and mildly amused. "Can you move, we need to get you cleaned up."

I can't talk and he wants me to move?

"No good." I inform him gasping, "I just died—" I realize absentmindedly as I say it how he might take that and somehow manage to pat his arm with my hand my words slurring a bit because even my tongue doesn't want to focus right now. " 's a good death…very good death."

"Had to be, I think every Walker in a four state area heard that." I'm glad he finds this funny.

I snort. "Walkers-shmockers, 's a good thing I'm me."

Daryl's hands slide down my back slowly. "I fried your brain…it's like your drunk..."

High actually; too many delicious endorphins released all at once. But I don't bother to correct him out loud. Even the muscles in my thighs are trembling; and I haven't even tried standing on my own yet, without the counter's support I'd probably just fall on my butt.

"Good news is we keep this up you'll probably be pregnant by the end of the week."

I shake my head, face still pressed against the counter top. Oh Boy.

Daryl slowly lets me go like he's afraid I might fall to the floor once his hands are no longer on me. He might be right. Guess we'll find out. I hear him move grab something off the other counter, his hand returns to the small of my back resting against my spine his other arm holding something out for me to grab…the bottle.

Ah ha! He seduced me so I'd drink the other bottle of disgusting orange.

Daryl snorts. "Babe, you seduced me."

Okay, I guess I said that out loud.

"We should check the other houses for supplies before it gets too hot; we need to head back at some point."

I finally manage to push myself up off the counter, twisting to keep my hip and one elbow leaned against it; though I probably don't need to with Daryl hovering like he is looking downright smug.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm Fucking Fantastic." I inform him eager to prove my enthusiasm wrapping both arms around his shoulders. I push up onto still shaky legs leaning in close to him for balance and so I can whisper in his ear. His warm hands span my waist the second I press against him his lips brushing mine even before I grin wickedly against his mouth.

"Next time we do that? I want you to tie me to the bed."

:: Walking Dead ::