So, Hi!

This chapter had real trouble finding it's way from my head to the page. I kept starting it, coming back to it, then staring at it for ages with no joy… but in the end I split it and now I'm pretty much happy with , so here it is.

Unfortunately, it means that this chapter is basically just smut.

I think the problem was that I was trying to fit too much of what I wanted to say into one chapter. When I decided to split the chapter in two, it became much easier to write.

Aisling hardly slept a wink in the enormous hotel bed that night, as the usually comforting weight of Daryl's arm lay heavily around her waist, the rough pads of his fingertips rubbing across her skin as he shifted slightly in his sleep.

She couldn't remember ever feeling quite as nervous as she did now.

Sure, she was often anxious waiting to see how her work would be received in a newspaper review of a play, film, or television show, but in those instances she was always part of an ensemble of actors, writers, directors, co-stars and a myriad of editing and production staff that she could almost hide amongst.

But her photography was her.

She could take off her clothes on camera a hundred times and never feel as exposed as she did now, with her art… her passion… the only thing about to be held up to public scrutiny.

Daryl's warm body pressed against her back was a comfort in the hours she lay awake, fretting, tossing horrible scenarios around in her head where she was ridiculed, and dismissed as a talentless imposter.

His strong arms wrapped around her served as an anchor against the flights of fancy which threatened to send her spiraling off into an anxious meltdown.

Of course this exhibition mattered to her, so very much, but the man whose warm, sleeping breath stirred the hair at the nape of her neck was, without a doubt, the most important thing in her heart.
As far as Aisling was concerned, he always would be.

He was her strong protector, her honest and loyal confidante, her truest best friend, and her gentle, caring, passionate lover.

With Daryl at her side, Aisling could could deal with whatever life threw at her.

My Daryl makes everything better. I need my Daryl.

As dawn's sleepy fingers crept into their hotel bedroom high above the Chelsea streets, the sounds of the city waking up below them – as much as 'The City That Never Sleeps' ever could wake up - filtered up into the room.

Garbage trucks beeped their reversal into the bays where the industrial sized dumpsters lay at the rear of the hotel – bouncing up off the buildings from way below them – and the early morning traffic splashed through the puddles left over from the heavy rain that had been Aisling's comforting soundtrack through her sleepless hours.

Aisling twisted around to face the man behind her, and calmed her nerves by watching him sleep.

Daryl looked so peaceful.

His lips were slightly parted as even breaths puffed gently out between them, his long eyelashes resting on the slightly puffy skin underneath his eyes.

He always looks so tired.

The big daft eejit is always looking after me, getting me all distracted with his love, and his kisses, and the way he does that thing when he's all hot and horny, and he grabs me and … anyway, he's always looking out for me. I need to look out for him more.

Need to treat him as well as he treats me.

He's my Daryl.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips softly to his, slowly, again and again, gently sucking the sleep from him.

Aisling wanted, no, needed, Daryl to be awake with her right now.

Yes, it would be nice to share the memory of seeing in the light of a Chelsea dawn together, but if truth be told Aisling was just more than a little eager for some Daryl Loving right now, after spending what felt like only minutes, but could also have been hours, looking at his beautiful face so peaceful next to hers.

His dark hair stuck up every which way against the soft white cotton encasing the pillows, and the right side of his face which had been pressed into the pillow was seamed with the folds and creases of the fabric.

She kissed those soft lips, and pressed her naked body into his, until those blue eyes opened, and his face – soft, warm and rumpled from sleep – broke into the sweetest, sleepiest smile she'd ever seen that face blossom into.

Aisling's heart just about burst at the sight, and a barely awake Daryl was rewarded with what he thought might have been the sexiest sight ever, when Aisling – all bed tousled – bit her lip in a shy smile and giggled with those big green eyes fixed on him.

To Aisling, the sight of a Just Woken Daryl would always be the most adorable thing ever.

Her big, strong hunter, all rumpled and warm from sleep, with his ear poking through his hair, just begging to be nipped at with her lips, made her lady parts fizz and her heart melt.

She made the curve of his ear her first port of call as her lips began a slow, meandering journey down Daryl's warm body.

When her mouth got close enough, Daryl leaned forward and captured her lips with his.

His tongue licked between her open lips, and they got lost in their kisses for a while.

Lost in swollen lips, and hot mouths.

Remembering the delicious journey she was intent on continuing down the muscular body below her on the bed, she sucked Daryl's lower lip out with her lips and let it go with a quiet popping sound, then smiled at him from under hooded lids, and licked her lips.

Daryl's lips chased after hers, and he hissed quietly as she pulled away from his mouth to slide her tongue on a renewed expedition toward the heat of his groin.

She smiled as Daryl's hands began to paw at her, greedily, with sleepy enthusiasm. The thick fingers of one hand gripped one of her buttocks and squeezed, while his other hand connected with whatever soft, smooth flesh it happened to land on as he mouthed at the smooth skin of her throat.

She kissed those strong, broad shoulders, then moved down his chest, pausing to swipe her tongue across the nipple below his grandaddy's name, earning a low moan from Daryl's lips as the tiny little bundle of nerves hardened under her tongue.

From the first time her lips had touched his body, only a few months ago, Aisling was addicted to the feel and taste of Daryl's skin, and couldn't imagine a time when she wouldn't be.

This rough, bristly, yet incredibly soft and gentle backwoods man was the sun to her moon, the day to her night.

Down she licked, sucked, and kissed, to his belly button.

Daryl raised his head up just in time to see her little pink tongue swirl into that indented knot of flesh, then slip down to his lower belly – across the patch of soft, sparse hair on the little paunch of fleshy softness there that he was begrudgingly putting down to age, seeing as how no amount of cutting out beer, watching what he ate, or sit-ups he attempted while waiting for the coffee to brew in the mornings seemed to help it shrink.

Daryl hated it because he saw it as a sign of weakness and age – gettin' like Daddy was. Gonna wind up jus' some fat bastard in a chair, all gut an' jowels.

But Aisling loved that soft little pillow on his abdomen. It was Daryl, and it felt nice against her cheek and nose as she nuzzled into it, so she took her time licking, kissing, and tracing her fingers along the soft flesh.

When her tongue continued downwards in a trail of little kitten-soft licks Daryl inhaled a quiet gasp, making Aisling giggle against the warmth of his skin, her nose blowing out little puffs of air which tickled his pubic hair. That made Daryl hiss in a sharp intake of breath, and twine his thick fingers into her hair as his head lolled back onto the pillows again.

Aisling sighed happily as her nose trailed through the dense, springy curls at the base of his erection, inhaling the warm muskiness there that was pure, concentrated Daryl.

She couldn't remember ever being with a man whose smell drove her crazy. It was as if Daryl oozed pheromones that had been created in the stars solely for her.

The feel of her soft fingers cupping his heavy balls, as the tip of that little pink tongue connected teasingly with the tip of his rapidly hardening cock, stole his breath away.

She moved her mouth along him, kissing the soft skin there all gentle... real slow.

When Daryl had first met Aisling he had fantasized about her mouth on him there, but he had quickly learned that those fantasies had nothing on the mind-blowing reality.

She had told him once that she could tie a cherry stalk in a knot with her tongue, and while he'd never had the chance to see that talent in action, he firmly believed her.

Fuck!

Ain't never gonna get tired of feelin' her mouth on my dick.

My girl's got fuckin' skills.

Another loud moan escaped him as her tongue flicked tiny, tingling little licks down along the underside of his cock, and back up to the swollen head which glistened with precum and spit.

The rush of sensation which surged through Daryl made him gasp out "Suck me, Ash… fuck!"

Daryl's sex noises ranked right up there in the Top 10 things Aisling could never, ever now get enough of. Sometimes they were feral growls, or wild roars, but other times they were needy little whimpers.

They were all the most erotic sounds she'd ever heard.

His fingers tightened in her hair when she moved to take the tip of him in her mouth, and she smiled up at him, her full lips stretching around his impressive girth.

Aisling hummed approvingly around his cock at his words, sending paralyzing electric shocks straight from Daryl's dick through to his central nervous system, rendering him incapable of thinking much beyond the sensations her mouth ignited in him.

The thought that his cock and balls might actually explode flitted briefly among all the other rather more pleasurable thoughts in Daryl's mind as he plunged deep into her soft, warm mouth, and he had to still his movements and pull back a little.

"Ash, fuck!" he warned in a strangled whimper from the back of his throat, "...wanna come in ya, Sweetheart."

Strong hands pulled her up, gripping her hips as he gently – as gently as he could manage anyway, with his body malfunctioning everywhere but in the Pants Department – maneuvered her to sit astride his hips. Shifting slightly, he angled the leaking tip of his cock at the slick, pink lips between her thighs.

"Gonna' ride me, sweetheart?" he gasped quietly as, slowly, he lifted his hips to ease himself up into her, and she lowered her hot, wet heat down to slide down around him.

"Aww, that's so good," he groaned "wanna watch ya come on top of me, Ash."

Daryl watched Aisling as they moved together, his eyes trying to focus on every inch of her body at once.

He thrust up into her slowly at first. The motion made Aisling's soft, full breasts jiggle and bounce above him. He couldn't help the little smirk on his lips as his hands cupped those irresistible tits… kneading… tweaking… squeezing… caressing Aisling's pale, supple flesh.

Here he was, Daryl Dixon, nuts deep in Aisling O'Brien in a New York hotel room, and if that wasn't enough to make his inexperienced redneck head spin, he loved her, and – amazingly – she loved him too

They fit together just right, like they were made to go together, like two jigsaw puzzle pieces.

Fuck. Well if that ain't like some kinda' made-to-be shit, right there.

His right hand slipped down from her breast to her clit then, and he moved his fingers on her just the way he knew she liked it, pressing his middle and index fingers down to move in a gentle rhythm in that warm, wet heat.

Coaxing her body into coming undone.

"Gonna come all over me, Ash?" Daryl gasped as he felt the heat of her contract around him.

She's so tight, so wet, so fuckin' beautiful.

They rocked together, fingers clenching into each others' flesh, breath heavy and faltering as the sensations of their lovemaking surged through their bodies.

It was as if somebody had hit the pause button on Daryl, and time stood still as white light and pure unadulterated pleasure erupted inside him as his orgasm thundered through his body to pulse deep into Aisling.

Almost simultaneously, Aisling came completely undone above him, eventually sinking down to lay on top of him where she pressed soft, exhausted kisses against his neck.

As soon as his arms worked enough to be able to move again, he lazily tugged at Aisling's body so that her head lay below his on the pillow where he could look at her face properly.

"Love ya' so fuckin' much," Daryl rasped as he used two fingers to gently brush back the strands of her hair which were stuck to her forehead, "always gonna'."

"I love you too, Daryl," Aisling punctuated her statement with a gentle kiss to his lips and smiled down at him "You're my lobster."

Daryl jerked his head up to look at her, a look of confusion on his face.

"Did you never watch Friends?" she asked, incredulously, wondering how someone had gotten through the millennium without hearing Phoebe's quote.

Daryl shrugged, and pushed Aisling's damp hair away from her face as he wondered what the fuck she was talking about.

"Apparently, lobsters mate for life," she whispered, all quiet, as she looked up at him, those big green eyes shining up at him in the dawn light "so… you're my lobster."

*.

Two hours later, and, save for a quick visit to the bathroom each, neither Daryl nor Aisling had put one foot outside their hotel bed.

Daryl had huffed that he was happy to piss in the sink while she used the toilet because it saved time, but didn't really understand why Aisling was so aghast at the idea and had sprinted naked into the bathroom alone, locking the door behind her.

When he returned from his solo trip to the bathroom after her, muttering "s'only piss" under his breath, Aisling was waiting, spread out and gorgeous on the bed, distracting him from his grumblings.

Daryl thought she was just as pretty as could be.

Like a fuckin' picture.

He stopped in his walk to the bed and took a moment to just look at her. His eyes trailed slowly along her body, from the tips of her coral painted toes, to the emerald green eyes which shone out brightly in the morning light.

Daryl's eyes drank in the bubble-gum pink nipples that had flushed darker from the recent attention from his tongue, and the shine on Aisling's lips as they curved up into a little smile, just for him.

My girl's a fuckin' work of art.

If Daryl could paint, he'd whip out a canvas and palette and get straight to work, capturing this beautiful creature for all eternity.

If he could take photographs like Aisling he'd get his camera and… hang on just a minute...

The cogs of Daryl's brain whirred as his eyes dragged slowly back down along Aisling's body, making his thoughts intriguing to her.

Before she had a chance to ask him what it was that was occupying his mind so, he slowly, casually, crawled up her body so that their heads were together on the pillow again, and whispered "Wanna get your camera?" in her ear.

Daryl was trying to appear simultaneously both very interested in the idea of photographing his lover naked, and not at all interested in the idea, just in case he'd seriously misjudged Aisling and what her reaction to his suggestion that they take some dirty pictures together might be.

Aisling didn't say anything as she reached out to the bedside locker for her phone, but did try unsuccessfully to bite back the smile that curled her lips up happily as she handed it up to her sweaty, disheveled lover.

She loved it when Daryl opened up, and let his kinks out.

He'd revealed few in their time together, but Aisling just knew that there were more bubbling under the surface of her gruff, quiet man.

"This thing do video?" Daryl asked, as he poked about at the controls on the phone with a very confused look crumpling his brow.

"Are you seriously all set to go again, already? And on film?" Aisling whispered incredulously as Daryl ground his stiffening cock into her thigh while he fumbled about with her phone settings.

"Can't help it," he paused to suck at her lips for a moment. "Ya' do somethin' to me, an' if I get to watch this when we ain't together, then I'm all set for jerk-off material for the next couple of years."

*.*

Aisling exhaled slowly and leaned her head down against Daryl's sweaty chest, listening to the frantic beat of his heart inside his body.

They were both shaking… breathless, and happy. Neither of them had a functioning bone between them.

"You did your Yoda voice again," she whispered as he gently sucked one of her earlobes into his mouth.

Daryl paused, and pulled away briefly to glance her, then snorted.

"Shut up. Don't sound like fuckin' Yoda when I come."

"You do, sometimes! Him or Kermit. Definitely something Jim Henson-ey."

Daryl huffed a breath of hot air out against the tingling skin of her neck, and raised his lips up to press soft kisses against Aisling's ear.

"You keep sayin' that," he whispered "an I might just stop doin' this..."

Aisling giggled and rolled so that the weight of Daryl's body was above her again, laying heavily and comfortably between her thighs.

"Stop kissing me you will?" she asked, doing a terrible Yoda impression which made Daryl laugh into her neck despite himself.

"Y'know I was jus' jokin', right?" Daryl mumbled into the air in front of her face, "Ain't ever gonna' wanna' stop doin' this. Love ya, Ash."

*.*

Aisling begrugingly pulled herself out of bed an hour or so later, with a pleasant throbbing between her thighs and a cloud – both in her head, and virtual, thanks to Daryl's enthusiasm with the camera on her phone - full of very NSFW memories.

Daryl groaned and mumbled "Not yet..." as he tried to pull Aisling back beside his body.

"Come back," he whined, and held his arms out for her, flailing them around a bit, and then sighed as he sank back onto the empty bed and honest-to-goodness pouted, like a two year old child.

He lay spreadeagled on the hotel bed, with the sheets sheets tangled around his legs,

He wanted her to stay right there.

Was an appointment with some journalists and a pedimanist… pedimeder… somethin' to do with goddamned toenails or shit like that so fuckin' important?

Daryl idly tugged at his penis as he watched Aisling's naked body leave to go have a shower.

Not two minutes later, he'd sneaked right in there with her, managing to get another thirty minutes in there with her before she left all distracted and late an' panicky, off to meet some journalists at the gallery.

Daryl couldn't help but tug himself off again after Aisling left, watching what they'd recorded together.

Like a fuckin' teenager. Can't help touchin' m'self an' thinkin' 'bout her.

Want her touchin' me, an me touchin' her, all the damn time, like a damn pervert

*.*

Him and Ais had been together over three months now. He couldn't quite believe it, but he had checked the calendar at work which had the pictures of the women strategically holding wrenches over their tits, and it was indeed true.

Chuck, Shaun, and even Corinne, had joked about him and Aisling being almost past the 'honeymoon period', but Daryl had no idea what they were talking about.

"Ain't married," he'd grumbled to one of the guys at work who had made a feeble 'honeymoon period' joke when Daryl had come in ten minutes late one morning.

That earned him a flurry of nervous laughter, as the eight other mechanics wondered whether or not Daryl was being serious or not.

He turned to glare at them all, so some ducked away out of sight, a couple of others looked busy as they shuffled things around on work space, and the rest looked like they wanted to die rather than have to explain things to a bewildered Daryl.

"Whatcha mean?" he growled at Truman, the only one of his colleagues who hadn't had the good sense to look away.

"Well… er..." Truman stumbled over his words as sounds got stuck in his throat, "you know what the Honeymoon Period is?"

Daryl just stared at him.

"Ok, so the Honeymoon Period is wh-"

Daryl huffed "Can everyone stop sayin' Honeymoon fuckin' Period?"

Everyone nodded, so Daryl nodded at Truman to continue.

"So, the Honey… that is commonly referred to as the time when a new couple has the most amount of sexual activity, before it… dies off."

Been over three months now, an Chuck, Shaun an' even fuckin' Corinne's jokin' 'bout that fuckin' 'honeymoon period', sayin' they's at it like particularly over-enthusiastic rabbits right now, but that'll ease off in time., but I know that aint never gonna be the case.

If anything, the more he touches her, the more his fingers and lips become more addicted to her skin, the taste of her, the feel of her.

Ain't never happier than when I'm buried deep inside her, and we's all hot, wet mouths an' graspin' hands. An' I'm nudgin' at her, just dippin' the tip of my cock inside her, an' she's all red in the face, moanin' ma name, like it's somethin' fuckin' sacred. Then, when I'm just fuckin' drivin' inta her, an' she's so hot, an' so fuckin' tight an' wet.

"New York's fuckin' busy" Daryl grunted to himself as he successfully crossed the street to Merle and Heather's hotel on the third attempt, while Aisling paid someone to rip all her body hair out, and clip and paint her toenails or something. "Fuckin' cold, too" he pulled the thick coat Aisling had insisted he pack closer around him against the biting wind which whipped down the Avenue and stung his cheeks and nose.

Daryl's head had almost spun round on his shoulders when he found out how much it cost her each time she went to one of those torture chambers she went to, to get hair ripped out of her and all that shit he didn't understand.

He told her she was throwing money away, but she had silenced him with a long, slow kiss, and Daryl couldn't remember what it was he was talking about, and had no real mind to try to remember neither.

He offered to clip her nails himself for free, but she had looked at him as though he'd suggested he wipe her ass for her and shrieked "Jesus, no!" at him, before leaving the hotel room in a nervous flurry of phonecalls and horrified glances at him.

He didn't give a shit if she had stubble on her legs, or if the neatly trimmed strip of hair inside her panties got thicker and blurred around the edges, but apparently Aisling really did, and went to great expense to make sure that the natural, human woman she was remained as hidden as possible.

Ain't never gonna' understan' women.

Good Lord knows they all piss, an' shit, jus' like us, an' somehow they think when we take down their panties we're expectin' ta' find some mythical fuckin' creature there, that don't grow no hair, don't sweat, aint never farted, an' smells of goddamned fuckin'

Daryl would never get enough of the way that Aisling smelt. When he buried his face between her legs he relished each deep inhalation through his nose, filling his head with the scent of her. Whether she was straight out of the shower, smelling of jasmine and cocoa butter or some shit, or she was warm, damp and musky after a day hiking around the woods at their house with him, he loved the scent all the same.

Aisling was all woman, even if she tried to hide it.

Thanks to everyone who has followed/favorited my story, and an extra special thanks to those of you that took time to comment; EvilPipeDreamer, Laura-LaLa, Bactrian Camel, Leah Pensotti, Galwidanatitud, Guest, Missy7293, and Angelicedg.

Your comments keep me buoyed up and wanting to keep writing when I get stuck, and all I want to do is throw my laptop out of the window. When the words just don't want to come out I often re-read your comments, and the fact that all you lovely people took time to comment spurs me on. I really do appreciate them, especially when I'm finding it hard to write xxx

While I was struggling with this chapter I distracted myself by teasing out an outline for a Daryl and Aisling ZA story, which will be my next big project, and I'm crazy excited to begin working on it!

I am hoping that, now I've got this chapter out of the way, the rest will flow more easily. I know what's going to happen for our Actress and our Hunter – it's all mapped out in an outline – so I'd love to see out the conclusion.

When this story is done, I'll start on Aisling and Daryl's ZA adventures :D