AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

Some (somewhat) light smut warnings for this chapter.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Without any concern for the possibility of offending T-Dog's sensibilities, Carol didn't have any reason to swallow back her voice.

Ed had hated any kind of noise during sex—good or bad. He'd seemed to hate any sound from Carol, really. She never knew when the slightest noise or the simplest word might be provocation and earn her some kind of punishment. She'd learned to bear most things in silence with Ed. And she'd learned that sex, if it was to be enjoyed at all, was silent.

But Daryl wasn't Ed.

And Daryl was a man who not only responded positively to praise, but increased his efforts tenfold if he thought he might be rewarded with a grateful moan or a validating word.

Without any worry of bothering T-Dog, thanks to his trip to some other cabin within the community for the night, Carol relaxed entirely in the bedroom. Instead of swallowing back her praises at all, she let herself be loud about them—ridiculously loud. She felt her cheeks run warm, at first, over her own proclamations of pleasure.

At her first loud declaration of absolute contentment to have Daryl inside her, he'd stopped his movement. He'd looked surprised. He'd looked, even, like he might retreat. But as soon as his brain registered that what she was saying meant that she approved, and she approved wholeheartedly, of him and what he was doing, Daryl had thrown himself into their lovemaking with a hunger that Carol had yet to experience from him.

Her sometimes docile husband grew a little rougher and a little wilder each time she verbally approved of his actions. And, as a credit to his careful attentions, he also backed off of certain explorations of her body when Carol told him that she preferred things to be a little different.

Their honeymoon night, instead of a being a night that marked the first time that they were ever sexually together, ended up being a night that marked the first time that they experimented a great deal with praising one another and profusely making requests and suggestions.

Carol was still resting, on her side, trying to get her breath back, when Daryl leaned over her shoulder and kissed her face.

She was aware that he was stroking himself. He would be ready again soon, if he wasn't ready already. As far as stamina went, he sometimes defied everything she thought she knew about men. His recovery time varied—some times he needed longer than others—but it seemed that tonight he'd somehow saved up recovery time from a lifetime before.

He nuzzled her face, bumping his nose against her to get her attention. She smiled to herself, but she didn't turn to look at him immediately. He bumped her face again and nuzzled her ear affectionately.

"You—uh—think you gonna want to go again?" Daryl asked. "Or—you done?"

Carol bit her lip. She couldn't help but smile to herself. It was a genuine question. He wasn't pressuring her. If she told him to leave her alone, he'd go without argument. He probably wouldn't even ask her to lend him a hand—or any other part of her body—in relieving the erection that he was coaxing from himself at the moment.

Carol reached her hand over, behind her, and found his hip. She patted it. She let her fingers trail over his skin without looking over her shoulder at him. She let her hand find his. She covered it. She pushed his fingers out of the way and she gently replaced his with her own. She stroked him and he shifted his hips, moving himself closer against her—taking her proximity as enough, if that's what she wanted to offer him.

"I'm exhausted," Carol said. "In the best way that I've ever been exhausted."

Daryl let out a slightly pained gasp—the sound he made when he was enjoying something, but trying to hold himself back from enjoying it too much. Carol smiled to herself.

"I'm sorry," Daryl said, putting his hand on her hip. "Or I—ain't. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure…which you want."

Carol laughed to herself and shifted her body. She rearranged her legs and pulled her hand back.

"What I want is for you to be inside me, Daryl," she offered.

He leaned up and she looked at him, this time, over her shoulder. She smiled at him.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Yeah," Carol said. "All the way. Please."

His hand went between her legs. His fingers rubbed her. She was a little sore, and she recognized that with his touch. She could easily blame it on some of their earlier experiments with position, speed, and strength. She could also blame some of it on the fact that there had been, without question, more sustained friction than there had been in a while.

Still, the almost-pain was delicious at the moment, and Carol craved more of it. She craved more of Daryl. She rocked her hips and moaned her approval of Daryl's stroking and teasing, especially once his fingers trailed forward and found her clit to rub it.

"Daryl?"

"Hmmmm?" He hummed, breathing heavy in her ear as he pressed his face against the side of hers.

"I mean it," she said. "I'm ready."

Daryl rearranged the both of them, and Carol moved her legs as he requested. He brought them together and, as soon as he did so, he kissed the side of her face before he started moving his hips to find a rhythm.

"Easy," Carol breathed out, closing her eyes. "Oh—yeah. Go easy. Slow and easy." She moaned her approval as Daryl found something that seemed comfortable for him and felt wonderful to her.

"Like that?" Daryl asked. "You like it?"

"I like it just like that," she assured him.

This time was slow and gentle. This time the exhaustion of both of them shone through. This time was quiet except for soft declarations of pleasure and hushed moans. This time, as he came, Daryl's repeated declarations of "I love you…I love you…I love you…" were practically whispered, though the sound of them—so very sincere—still made Carol shiver.

This time, Carol was certain that Daryl was spent. Whatever superhuman ability he'd held, for most of the night, to recover at practical breakneck speeds was gone.

Panting, Daryl pulled away from her after a final kiss to the side of her face and the long, deep kiss that she rolled to offer him. He went to the stool he'd parked by the window, pushed up the window a few inches, and sat. The bedside lamp illuminated the room, and Carol used the light to illuminate her way to the bathroom. When she returned from relieving herself and cleaning up, she passed Daryl a warm, wet rag before she sat down on the side of the bed and stretched her back.

"You think that was good enough to count for a honeymoon?" Daryl asked, laughing to himself.

"I think it was good enough to count for the first few weeks of marriage," Carol said with a laugh.

"Think it was good enough to—make a baby?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled to herself. Her heart clenched gently. She ran her hand over her belly. The baby in question was still at the moment. Sleeping, perhaps. Maybe she'd even been rocked to sleep by the motions that, thankfully, she couldn't understand.

"I think it was definitely good enough to make a baby, Daryl," Carol said. "And—there's no man in the world that I would rather have as the father to my child. Or—maybe I should say…I'm happy that you chose me to have your baby."

Daryl smiled out the window and into the darkness of the night that had descended around them while they'd been doing their best to test their mattress.

"Tell you a secret?"

"Always," Carol said.

"I like the sound of it all, you know?"

"The sound of…what?" Carol asked. "Do you mean—all the talking we tried?"

"I like that, too," Daryl said. "Don't get me wrong. I especially like—you know—that you was kinda makin' some demands there."

"I'm sorry," Carol said.

"Don't be sorry," Daryl said quickly. "Just said I liked that shit. Like knowin' what you want. Exactly. Knowin' I'm doin' what you want. Gonna hit that sweet spot for you. You know?"

Carol's face ached slightly when she smiled back at him, but his smile was genuine and it was contagious.

"I know exactly what you mean," she assured him.

"That weren't what I was talking about, though," Daryl said. He took a second and finally lit the cigarette he'd been toying with. He took a long drag off of it, sighed with satisfaction, and blew the smoke directly at the bottom of the partially opened window. "I was talkin' about—the 'my' thing."

"The 'my' thing?"

"The 'my' wife, 'my' husband, 'my' baby," Daryl said. "I mean—our baby, but…"

"It's OK, I get the point," Carol said, not wanting him to feel he needed to explain himself or correct himself. "You like the—possession."

"Yeah," Daryl said. "But I don't like to say it like that. Sounds bad when you say it that way. I don't mean it in an asshole way. I just mean—I never had shit before. I don't know. I just keep running it through my mind. Now I got a whole fuckin' life. A home. A wife. A baby. Hell—I got a fuckin' sister-in-law that's keepin' my asshole brother sober. Niece or nephew on the way. I got a whole fuckin' life, Carol. And I like it. I love—every damn part of it. But this? You, and me, and her? That's what I love the most. Havin' that. That's—that's all I meant. I like the sound of all that."

Carol's chest tightened to match the feeling in her throat.

"Daryl?"

"Hmmm?"

"That was—the nicest thing that…I think you could ever say," Carol said. She saw Daryl's face run red from across the room.

"Just bein' honest," Daryl said.

"I love—belonging to you," Carol said. "And I don't care…I don't care if anyone would say that I shouldn't. Because I do. I love…giving you that. And I love having you for my husband."

"I don't mind belonging to you," Daryl offered with a quiet laugh.

"And she's going to love being your baby girl," Carol said. "And—having you as her Daddy."

"I might not be any good at it," Daryl said. He snubbed his cigarette out and lit a new one, immediately, to take its place.

"You'll be wonderful," Carol assured him.

"I don't know that much about—bein' a Daddy, really," Daryl said. "Didn't have any real role models."

"And for that reason," Carol said, "you'll be perfect. You might not always know what to do, Daryl, but you'll always know what you don't want to do."

"And that'll be good enough?"

Carol smiled to herself. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. She ignored the dampness pooling in her eyes. Daryl, at least, understood hormones, and he didn't require her to explain her tears—not if they weren't the bad kind, as he identified them.

"That'll be good enough. Better. That'll be perfect for her. Daryl—you've never been a Daddy before, but…she's never had a Daddy before."

Daryl smiled to himself.

"We'll kind of learn together," he said.

"You will," Carol said. "You—and her—you'll absolutely learn together. And you may get to learn sooner rather than later."

Daryl stood up abruptly from his stool. Carol laughed to herself and held her hand out toward him to calm him. She realized that, unlike Ed who had been happy to leave her during Sophia's birth and who had been difficult to track down when it was time to take her home, Daryl was unlikely to want to leave her side at all. He would, probably, be as involved in the process as he could be—and she might try to do her best to spare him as much concern as possible.

"I'm fine," she promised him.

"She comin' or something?" Daryl asked, half-sitting down like he was still ready to pop back up with a moment's notice. Carol rubbed her belly and shook her head.

"Not right now. Not tonight. I only meant—soon."

"Like an hour soon or a week soon, Carol? There's different kinds of soon."

Carol laughed to herself.

"Like I don't know soon," Carol said. "I don't mean to say she's coming right now, Daryl. I only mean that—I know she's coming soon. It's just…call it instinct."

Daryl relaxed a little more on his stool, but Carol could see the muscles in his calf were flexed. He could bolt out of the room—as naked as the day he was born—if she asked it of him. He was ready for such a thing.

"Instincts are good," Daryl said. "Long as you don't hide it from me. I don't—I don't want you hidin' it from me, OK?"

Carol laughed to herself.

"Daryl—I don't think I could hide giving birth from you. At least, not for very long."

"How about you don't try and find out how long you can hide it, OK?"

"OK," Carol assured him. "Are you—done for tonight? Are you going to want…more? Sex, I mean."

"Do you?" Daryl asked.

"If you want something else," Carol offered. "Daryl—when she comes, it's going to be a while before I can do anything. I don't want you to be dissatisfied."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Spent most of my life not fuckin'," Daryl said. "Somehow—I think I'm going to live. I'm done. Tired."

"Then—come to bed?" Carol asked, crawling under the cover and working her way over to make room for him.

Daryl laughed to himself, quietly, and snubbed out the cigarette. He closed the window and switched off the lamp even as he reached the bed.

"You sound kind of anxious," Daryl teased.

"I am," Carol said. "I can't wait for my husband to hold me while I sleep."

She heard Daryl's release of breath in the darkness.

"Yeah—well, I can't wait to hold my wife, neither," he assured her, clearly enjoying the taste of the words on his tongue. "I'll try not to disappoint you," he added as he got comfortable and gathered Carol into his arms with his body flush against her back. She sighed at the security she felt in the tightness of his hold.

"You never disappoint me, Daryl," she promised.

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AN: So, Baby Girl Dixon (this one, at least) needs a name. I tend to like kind of simple, traditional names for Dixon babies. Any ideas to consider while I'm trying to land on one?