Part 18: Emotions Light Up

The 90s Love Jams playlist on Dawn's iPod contained many of Sasha's favorite songs. She had forgotten the pleasure of listening to music. How the melodies, lyrics, and rhythms blended together to create a perfect blend of magic and art. It was something she had taken for granted before. Of course, she'd play the radio or a CD while driving to work or to run errands. But she hadn't really listened and that had been so typical of her life back then. Other things were a priority. Becoming a firefighter. Not being dismissed because of gender or race. Working extra hard just to be taken seriously. Who had time to simply sit back and enjoy anything? She was too busy with priorities.

The dead coming back in full attack mode made her realize the true meaning of priorities and the importance of living life to the full.

Of course, this realization wasn't stated as such in her mind as Daryl shrugged free of his leather jacket. Sasha enjoyed the easy, sexy, masculine sway of his movements too much to ponder her new appreciation for life. The way his eyes remained on her and the quick swipe of his tongue against his lower lip…that's what captured her attention.

Then, he was beside her on the bed. He sat facing her, not quite touching, but close enough that his scent and the aroma of the grill filled her senses. She reached for his hand, instinctively knowing better than to rush.

"Your hair is pretty like that," he said, voice low and gruff. "You never wear it down, but it looks good."

"Thanks."

His gaze wandered over her. She knew he was taking in everything about her, not just the hair but also the lavender slip instead of the usual t-shirt and pants and the scent of coconut oil on her skin. Beautiful music serenaded them. Sasha heard the song but the music was distant in comparison to the rapid thudding of her heart. In what seemed like slow motion, Daryl bent forward until his mouth brushed hers.

The kiss came gently at first. Tender and sweet. The bristles of his moustache pricked her, but there was pleasure in the pain. Then came the tentative swipe of his tongue, sliding against her lower lip. Sasha parted her mouth, allowing the kiss to deepen, encouraging more from Daryl as her tongue tasted his.

Low moans erupted from her and him. She clutched his arms and began to shift to pull him on top. For a moment, his weight felt good on her. His chest rubbed against her, causing her nipples to harden and her breath to quicken.

Too soon, the kiss ended and Daryl pulled away. Before she could stop him, he stood over her and backed away.

"I need to…" He disappeared inside the bathroom. The door shut firmly behind him.

Sasha remained immobile. The sound of pounding thudded in her ears and she squeezed her hands into fists, willing her breath to return to normal. One sexy melody transitioned into another. The urge to pause the iPod came to mind, but she pushed it aside. Instead, she scooted across the bed to reach the bathroom. The distinct sound of splashing water reached her just as she flattened her hand against the door.

Headstrong had no competition with hesitation yet Sasha could not bring herself to open the door or call out to Daryl. She had always prided herself on meeting things head on, but pushing him felt so wrong. Everything about their coming together had occurred at a pace that was right for them. Things were slow. At times, frustratingly slow, but even in that snail's pace, the speed seemed perfect in hindsight. Finding the Victoria's Secret box with the sexy lingerie inside couldn't have been more heaven sent, or so she thought. Maybe she had gotten it wrong. She turned and went to the iPod. She paused the Johnny Gill tune.

The sudden quiet made her aware of everything else. Clothing had become tactical, fundamental. She always chose shirts, pants, and shoes that provided the best protection from the elements and of course, the walking dead. Her current attire felt decadent. Her gaze wandered to her reflection in the mirror. The lingerie clung to every curve and left little to the imagination. The soft material glided against her skin, which glowed from coconut oil. Sasha stared at the woman whose dark brown curls created a halo around her face. When was the last time she had seen herself this way? So quick to make decisions and just as fast with a weapon, had she completely neglected her femininity?

In the back of her mind, she noted the rush of the shower turning off. Then, later the slow ease of the bathroom door opening behind her. Sasha blinked and focused on the additional image in the mirror's reflection—Daryl in a towel. His reddish brown hair lay wet and slick to his scalp. His shoulders and chest glistened with droplets. One hand clutched the towel closed at his waist while the other flexed at his side. Their gazes connected in the mirror. Just as she had always admired his confident stroll and chiseled biceps, his dark blue eyes mesmerized her with their ability to both reveal and hide his thoughts and emotions.

"Hey," he murmured, low and gravelly.

"Hi."

"What happened to the music?"

She faced him and pointed at the iPod on the nightstand. "I paused it. I didn't think you—"

"Nah," he cut in. With a fluid movement, he pushed play and took several steps to her. His free hand rested at her waist, gently drawing her to him. "Who's that?"

"Who?" Sasha asked. His touch…his near nakedness were significant distractions. She inhaled a harsh breath. "What?"

"Singing."

"It's um…"

My, my, my

You sure look good tonight…

"Johnny Gill," she said. "Daryl—"

His other hand cupped her face. She felt the towel tumble onto their feet. Coherent thought failed to register. Then his mouth was on hers, his kiss both gentle and passionate at the same time and ending much sooner than she wanted.

But next they were in bed with the sheets covering them and Daryl facing her. In the background, Johnny Gill faded to Jodeci. Sasha rested against the pillows yet she was far from relaxed. Her heart raced. She wanted him. Not just for him to claim her and she him verbally, but physically, also. She was ready, but his readiness mattered, too. Pushing him felt very, very wrong.

"I ain't good at this," he began quietly.

"I…you don't have to…" She faltered. The tight expression on his face hinted at the battle waging inside and maybe were similar to the scars on his back. With all the time they had spent together, there was still so much that remained unspoken. But that was more acceptable now. Much more so than it ever would have been before the dead walked the earth, too. "You really don't have to say anything."

He nodded. "But I do…" He lightly touched her face as he spoke. "I couldn't come to ya dirty and stinking like a smokehouse. And honestly, Sasha, I wasn't expecting…." He gestured at her and toward the iPod. "…this."

"It just h-happened."

He gave a half smile. "No, it didn't. Well, maybe it did, but it didn't."

"I'm not trying to force anything on you," she said quickly.

"I know forced. This ain't it," he murmured. "I'd be lying if I said I ain't thought about us…like this, being together. Ya know? But I can't say that… I don't want to disappoint ya. You're so beautiful tonight. You're pretty all the time, but ya did somethin' special tonight…"

"There's no pressure—"

"I know," he said. "I don't feel pressured. I just…" He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. "You've seen the scars. On my back. I know you've seen 'em."

"Yeah." She rested on her side, facing him. The urge to touch him overwhelmed her, but she struggled to keep it in check. "I have."

"Growing up wasn't easy. Drinkin', fightin', drugs…lots of times, I'd wake up and there'd be no one else in the house. Not even Merle or my mama. Not nobody, just me. Maybe I was five the first time. Could've been four. It's hard to say exactly."

"It must've been scary." She reached for his hand and he took it, rubbing it between both of his.

"It was at first, but I got used to it, I guess. The quiet meant no yellin' and no runnin'. That was the hard part because I wasn't fast enough when I was little. Before Merle went to juvie, he took the worst of it, but his leavin'…" Daryl paused to chew his bottom lip. "House fire took my mama when I was 9. She wasn't the lovey mama type, but things got different. I ain't ever really had like most folks, Sasha, is what I'm sayin'. It ain't ever gotten this far really. Talkin' like this…sleepin' together like we been doin'… It feels right, though, and it scares me some."

"Me too." She caressed the bristles of his stubbly beard. Red colored his cheeks, but he held her stare. "Tyrese and I…we didn't grow up like that. Our parents were strict, but they'd never hurt us on purpose. I'm sorry you went through that—"

"Ain't your fault—"

"No, but it isn't yours either," she stated softly. "At some point, maybe not tonight or tomorrow or next week, but some day, you have to let it go. You didn't deserve what happened or those scars. You're a good man, Daryl Dixon." She raised onto her elbow to lean over him. "A fine man. Believe it. I'm not lying."

"You're my woman. You'd tell me anything," he said, a coy mixture of teasing, sincerity and concern.

"Nope, no I wouldn't and you know that about me."

"That's true."

"Kiss me."

He cupped the back of her head and drew her face to his. The kiss deepened on contact. His tongue pushed into her, swiping against hers with pure, primal insistence. Guttural moans emitted from his throat. His other hand squeezed her waist. Sasha grabbed his arms, digging her fingers into his hard biceps.

This time he rolled her onto her back. His gaze scorching as he stared at the rapid rise and fall of her chest and hem that edged up her thighs.

"I don't want to tear it," he mumbled.

"What?" she asked, confused. "The slip? You want me to take it off?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, but if ya don't…"

Sasha never imagined herself the seductive type because she wasn't, but Daryl's attentive stare as she lifted the silk fabric over her head boosted her confidence. Her mind race with ideas for the right approach. Should she stand and sway her hips as she slipped the gown off or would a quick tug and toss be more efficient.

Efficient. She giggled at the thought.

A slight frown of uncertainty wrinkled his brow. Her expression sobered in response. Just as quickly, she removed the sexy lingerie and did not hesitate a moment longer to snuggle against him.

Kisses followed. Deep kisses. Tender, teasing pecks. Gentle caresses. Everything felt so right in Daryl's arms. In the background, another 90s R&B ballad continue to set the tone, but they were only dimly aware of the sensual tones of Janet Jackson.

Sasha felt the heat of him everywhere. His hands caressed her with uncommon tenderness that set her aflame yet left goosebumps rippling all over. Her thighs parted and he moved to just the right place. His hardness pressing into her damp softness. A low growl emitted from him upon contact. He paused, resting his moistened forehead against hers.

"Sasha…"

She placed a lingering kiss on his mouth as her hands swept over him, pulling him closer into position. Instinct took over as their lower bodies moved in time to the rhythm of the TLC ballad. Then finally he was inside her. Sasha trembled at the sensation. "Oh, God," she murmured.

"Oh, no—"

"No, don't stop." She squeezed her thighs around him when he moved to pull out.

Daryl shuddered and his thrusts slowed. "We have to. I ain't wearing a rubber."

Sasha arched against him. "I don't care."

"Ya don't mean that." He pulled back and kissed her cheek. "Sasha, ya know what could happen. I ain't sure I can pull out in time."

"What if I don't want you to?"

"Dammit, Sasha," he grumbled. Her hips rolled against him, driving the beat. "I'm too close. We can't… I have something. In my pocket."

"Okay."

Daryl stumbled from the bed to where his jeans lay crumbled in a pile. A quick feel over the pockets revealed that all four were empty. He murmured a stream of curses that failed to truly describe the depth of his frustration.

"What about your vest or the knapsack?" Sasha asked.

"Vest," he repeated. He kicked his boots from his path and grabbed the vest from the chair near the door. Several condom packets dropped to the floor. Daryl scooped them all into his hand and returned to Sasha. The heated gleam in her brown eyes scorched him. He had wanted women before, but nothing like this. Everything was different with Sasha.

"Allow me." She tore the packet open and removed the condom. With a jut of her head, she silently instructed Daryl to lie down and he did without protest.

The contrast of her honey brown hand caressing his throbbing reddened erection made his chest constrict. As much as he needed her to hurry, he enjoyed watching her…feeling her touch him. Now, he questioned how he recoiled from her before? This was joy.

Far too quickly, the condom was rolled into place. She straddled him. In the candlelight, Daryl memorized the perfect fit of their bodies. How her thighs parted and her back arched. The way the dark tips of her breasts rose high for his licks and kisses. The sensuous moans that filled his ears and how their breaths quickened in almost perfect rhythm.

He knew seeing her like this could undo him. Once he allowed himself to acknowledge the fullness of her mouth and how perfect it was, he knew there was no turning back. The tentative touches had been torture when all along he had always wanted more, and now his most hidden secret fantasy was being fulfilled. He slid his hands along her perspiration slick thighs to settle at her trim waist. Carefully and without losing a second of contact, he rolled them until her back pressed into the damp sheet and he stared down into her brown eyes.

She closed her thighs around him like a vise. His insistent fingers sliding between her dampened curls where their bodies joined only caused her grip to tightened. Mouth open and eyes boring into his, she whimpered his name in a tone that sent ripples through him.

"Daryl…"

Later, he wasn't sure who came first. He had been fearful that it would be him and she would be unsatisfied, but her high-pitched squeals had proved otherwise. Her fingers dug into him and he remembered shuddering at the intensity of her strength. As their breathing returned to normal and they lay side by side with their hands interlocked, emotions welled in his chest. He had warned her numerous times that he wasn't good at this. Should he tell Sasha that he had no words for this…the feelings in his chest and all over his body? It seemed silly. Maybe like that romance novel she was reading, but what if all that lovey stuff had a point? What if Sasha felt it, too? He glanced at her and saw that her eyes were closed, but the most beautiful smile framed her pretty mouth. She wasn't asleep, yet. He knew her well enough by now to know that, but dammit, she was happy. He had a part of that. Maybe he was better at this after all.

[Author's note: Confession time…I have been working on this chapter since I uploaded the last one. Honest. Real life took multiple significant turns and twists and I'm currently living through another unexpected event as I type this. TWD has changed a lot, but the vision for this fic holds firm. I appreciate those of you who have been reading since the story began and all of you who have discovered it along the way. Words can't express my gratitude for your patience, reviews, favorites, etc. They're so inspiring. You have no idea. Daryl and Sasha wanted all the attention for the return so I had no choice but to surrender. Thanks again for reading and for all of your encouraging nudges to continue.]