AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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A few days into Rose's life and there was a significant shift in the tension in the house.
Carol informed Daryl that her milk had come in and, really, from that moment forward, she acted as though the greatest burden ever had been lifted off her shoulders. Daryl was almost certain that she'd only look slightly more relieved if he'd been able to walk in the house and tell her that the Walkers were gone forever and the virus had magically been wiped away.
She slept soundly—truly soundly—during her naps following the magical "coming in" of the milk, and Daryl had gladly walked the house with Rose to keep him company while Carol had gotten what seemed to be some of the best sleep of her life in bursts between nursing the baby girl.
During the quiet hours when he tended a bundled rose and entertained her in the living room, Daryl saw T-Dog move the last of his things out. He could have given him a hard time—harassed him about abandoning them to hibernate for the winter with his lady friend in her cabin—but he didn't. He was happy for T-Dog, and he knew that Michonne was still somewhat nervous about everything, really, so he didn't want to do anything to draw attention to them. They wanted to simply quietly slip into whatever this was, and Daryl certainly wasn't going to be the one to get in their way.
He understood secrets, and he understood the need that you sometimes felt to simply be quiet about things and let them happen however they might.
The days slipped slowly on in a sleepy, quiet progression—most of them made no more noise than the snowflakes that seemed to fall constantly outside their cabin windows.
One night, Daryl left Carol sitting on the floor with Rose who, as a quite strong baby, was already enjoying time trying to swim on her tummy on a blanket that her mother spread over the living room floor. He'd gone to take his shower so that he could relax with his little family and, when he returned, he found the familiar sight of Carol sitting—this time with her back to the couch—while she hummed to the baby girl that suckled at her breast.
Daryl went straight to the couch and sat somewhat behind her.
"I didn't even hear her start up," Daryl said.
"She barely did," Carol said. "I got her settled pretty quickly."
Daryl watched her as she slipped her finger down and separated Rose from her breast. The baby didn't cry, but she did look surprised and furrowed her brow. Carol rubbed her a back a moment, urging her to burp.
"Why do you do that?"
"Burp her?"
"I know why you burp her," Daryl said. "But I mean—she weren't done. Why'd you pull her off?"
"Because she needs to nurse on the other side," Carol said. "So I'm even."
"Even?"
"They're both equally empty or, I guess, equally full," Carol said.
"You can tell the difference?"
Carol laughed to herself.
"Of course I can," she said.
"You can like—feel it, feel it?" Daryl asked.
"Mmm hmm," Carol hummed. "Here—give me your hand. You can feel it, too."
Daryl reached his hand down, but Rose started the puppy sounds that she usually made when she was unhappy about her feeding situation. Daryl started to snatch his hand back just as Carol's fingers closed around it.
"I'm good," he said. "Give it to her. She ain't happy."
"She won't starve in a minute or two," Carol assured him. "Here—do you feel that? Now—do you feel that? There's a difference."
"Firmer," Daryl said.
"Fuller," Carol offered. She let him have his hand back after she moved his fingers to her lips and kissed them. Then she moved Rose to the breast that they'd identified as being the fuller one.
Daryl moved, positioning his body around her. He kneaded her shoulders, and Carol groaned at him in satisfaction and appreciation for the comfort and affection.
"You're fuckin' amazin' you know that?"
Carol laughed quietly.
"What?"
"You are fuckin' amazin'," Daryl said again, this time drawing out each word. Carol made a noise that made his stomach squeeze hard. She was so accustomed to being told she was anything but amazing that she rejected his words immediately. "I'm serious. Look at every damn thing you've done. You—hell—you got here."
"I couldn't have done that without you," Carol said.
"I ain't so sure about that. You survived Ed without me."
"I lost Sophia. I failed her."
Daryl squeezed her shoulders tighter.
"We all failed Sophia, maybe. That weren't all on you. Hell—you done everything you could. You survived, though. Got here. Kept Rose safe all that time she was—she was growin'. Hell, you grew her from fuckin' scratch, Carol. Made a whole ass person."
"That's not that amazing," Carol said. "It happens every day."
"Still don't mean it's not amazing," Daryl said. "Hell—I couldn't do it."
"You're a man."
"Maybe that's my point. And I saw you bring her into this world. I watched it happen. Half the damn people I know prob'ly couldn'ta stood that."
Carol laughed to herself. She admired the baby girl and ran a finger delicately around the soft skin of her face.
"It's not that bad," Carol insisted. "Really—it's not that bad. I'd do it again without hesitation. She's worth it."
"I know she is," Daryl said. "I don't have to dispute that to say you're incredible. And now you make milk for her. Feed her everything she needs. You keep her alive and keep her growin' like a lil' weed. Make her strong and perfect."
"She is perfect," Carol mused.
"She is," Daryl agreed.
"But that's not all me," Carol said. "She's got a pretty incredible Daddy, too, you know. He makes that long trek down to the mess hall to get us food every day, and he freezes out there cleaning and setting traps to try to add to our winter stores of food. He—knows how to bounce our baby girl just right so she stops crying, and he can get her to sleep almost any time he wants to. And she loves her Daddy's voice. She looks for it any time he speaks."
Daryl leaned forward and kissed Carol on the top of the head as he slipped his hand up and worked the nape of her neck with his fingers.
"I ain't tryin' to compete," he offered. "And I'm not fishin' for some kinda compliment. I'm just tellin' you what was on my mind. Your body made a perfect little baby girl, Carol. It gave her life. Now—you just make her everything she needs to survive. I'm not lookin' to be comforted or told I'm just as good or anything like that. I'm just—amazed. That's all."
Carol reached her hand up and felt around to find Daryl's. She sacrificed the massage he was giving her to squeeze his fingers in her own.
"You make sure that I have everything I need," Carol said. "And—as much of what I want as you can get. You make sure that she has everything she needs. You take care of us both. You provide for us. You love us—physically and emotionally. I'm amazed because I never believed that someone like you could be real. I guess that's my point."
Daryl slipped his hand around and pressed his fingers gently against the soft skin of Carol's breast.
"What are you doing?"
"It's not the same now," he said.
"No," she said. "She's been eating, Daryl."
"Do you ever run out? Like it just—goes empty?"
"Not entirely," Carol said. "At least—I don't think so?"
When the baby released her, apparently full to the point of not wanting more, Carol passed the infant to Daryl to allow him to burp her. She always said that he was better at burping her. It wasn't true, but Daryl appreciated her attempts to make sure that he always felt involved and important. While he burped her, Carol went for the little seat where the baby liked to lie and watch everything they did when she wasn't sleeping. Carol kissed Rose and put her down when she was burped and satisfied.
Then she sat on the couch next to Daryl and took off the shirt, again, that she'd only just put back on.
"What'cha doin'?" Daryl asked.
She smiled at him and leaned to kiss him. He responded to the kiss, entirely, because it was delicious and it felt so sincere—and Daryl usually felt hungry for Carol's kisses. When she pulled away, she took his hand and guided it to her breast. He didn't move, but he let her guide his hand.
"They hurt," he said.
"They're OK," she assured him, her voice low and throaty. "You can squeeze them a little. Gently. Feel them."
Daryl did as he was instructed, ignoring the overly zealous reaction of his dick as it reminded him how much he loved Carol's breasts and, frankly, ever other part of her body.
Carol closed her eyes to the sensation as Daryl gently fondled her breasts.
"They're not so full now," he said. "But they're bigger than they were."
"Saggier, too," Carol said. "Every damn bit of me seems—deflated, sometimes. You don't hate them?"
Daryl laughed in his throat. Carol was uncomfortable about her body, and he intended to do his best to make her understand that he still thought she was perfect, but he understood that Rome wasn't built in a day.
"I'm never gonna hate your tits," he offered. "They're just—workin' for now."
"They don't always have to be on duty," Carol said. Daryl's pulse picked up. Carol's very tone of voice could do that to him. She was smiling at him when he looked at her. "Do you want to—taste it?"
Daryl's mouth went dry and, for half a second, he felt a little lightheaded.
He wanted to taste her milk more than he could possibly explain, but he also felt wrong that he wanted to taste it. He felt that, somehow, that had to be wrong. It had to be taboo. It had to be something that simply wasn't allowed.
She would think he was an awful person if he admitted it.
She touched his face gently, though, and pressed her lips to his. He tensed, at first, not expecting the kiss and then relaxed into it. She moaned into his mouth.
"It's OK," she breathed out when the kiss broke. "I promise. It can be our secret. You can taste it if you want."
"It's hers," Daryl said, shaking his head. "She needs it."
Carol laughed to herself.
"She's full," Carol said. "And I make more. Constantly. The more I use, the more I make. It's OK. I promise. I—want you to taste it. Please?"
Daryl's heart was pounding as he nodded his acceptance of her request—one he was sure was made on his behalf as much as it was truly made by her—and leaned to taste her nipple with a flattened tongue. She moaned at him—at the lick.
"You have to suck it, Daryl," she instructed.
"I don't wanna hurt you," he said.
She laughed to herself.
"What if I told you—you're hurting me right now? Because—I really, really want you to…do this. And the wait is kind of painful."
Daryl backed up enough to look at her. Her dilated pupils and the expression on her face dawned on him. She was as aroused, at that moment, by the prospect of this as he was. Sex, he was sure, was off the table for them—Alice hadn't declared that she was done healing from the hard work that bringing Rose into the world had done on her body and, especially, to her vagina.
But that didn't mean that they couldn't still enjoy things that made them both feel aroused and good.
And it could be their secret that this—something that was probably wrong—made them both feel good.
Daryl licked her nipple again. He harassed it with his tongue and one of her hands tangled in his hair and tugged. She arched her back, forcing her breast against his mouth. He took her nipple into his mouth and she gasped. He pulled away a moment.
"I know you can't…" he said. She hummed, understanding without the need for words. "But can I touch you. If I don't…I mean…could I rub you?"
"I think as long as you don't—you know—you can't go inside me, Daryl."
In response, he slipped his fingers into the stretchy waistband of the sweatpants she was wearing and, leaving her underwear on as a protective barrier, just in case, found her clit with his fingers.
"This OK?" He asked. Her reaction, though, as she moved just enough to request more pressure from him, told him what he needed to know. He moved and, this time, he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked it between his teeth and the roof of his mouth. The warm milk filled his mouth and Carol gasped, the fingers of one hand tugging his hair while the fingers on the other grabbed at his shoulder. "Hurt?" He asked.
"Good," she got out. "Oh—oh—so good. Don't stop." The attention his fingers paid to her clit, he was sure, was distracting her a little from being too articulate. He drew a little more of the milk into his mouth. He tasted the milk from the other breast for comparison. He paid attention to her requests and her noises, working her until she came hard enough that he might have thought he'd hurt her badly if it weren't for the way she grabbed for him, pulling him to her and burying her face in the crook of his neck as she whispered her thanks and praise around rasping breaths.
Daryl had never come from nothing more than the absolute appreciation she'd shown him, before, but that was what happened then. He held her as she came down from her orgasm, his own driven by nothing more than the slight friction of his own pajama pants against his erection.
"I'm sorry," Carol breathed out when she straightened up.
"What the hell for?" Daryl asked, managing to find his voice. He used his hands to mop tears from Carol's damp eyes.
"I meant to do something for you."
"Believe me, you did. You absolutely did. There ain't nothin' I coulda asked for that woulda been better than that right now."
"I didn't even touch you," Carol said.
"And evidently that didn't matter a damn bit, did it? You were so fuckin' hot—comin' so damn hard like that. I couldn't stand it. That shit was incredible."
"You're incredible…was it…gross? Is my milk gross?"
"Good," Daryl said. "Sweet. Kinda…nutty. To be honest…just between us? I wouldn't mind doin' it again sometime. If you…didn't hate it."
"Just between us," Carol said, laughing to herself. "I hope you'll do it again."
"Is it wrong, though? I mean that's her milk. You make it for her."
"I don't think it's wrong," Carol said. "I make plenty and—added stimulation just makes me make more. I think—we can share what we want to share. But we'll keep it between us, just in case."
Daryl glanced over at the baby that was content and watching them through eyes that were wide. She hadn't fallen asleep, but she also hadn't felt the need to fuss. She was simply there and fine for the moment.
"Is it OK—she's watchin' this?" Daryl asked.
Carol smiled. She caressed his cheek.
"She doesn't know what she's watching," Carol assured him. "If she's paying us much attention at all. All she knows is that—Mommy and Daddy are both here. And they're spending time together. And she's safe, and warm, and fed. And—maybe? At the end of all this? She knows that Mommy and Daddy love each other. I'm sure that's all she can sense."
"Then she knows the truth of it," Daryl offered. "She knows all that matters."
