Between the Thorns
Chapter 18
Daryl entered the unfamiliar room, feeling his body tense slightly when the door clicked shut behind him. Shortly after their forced engagement in her apartment that morning, Jean and her daughters were whisked away by a group of women in very impractical shoes. They clacked her away down the hall like a flock of noisy chickens. When Daryl saw Jean again, she was wearing an ill fitting white dress and her hair was curled. Their very brief ceremony was performed, thankfully not by Negan himself as Daryl was nervous it might be, but by an old bespeckled man with a lisp. The man had been rousted out of who only knows where to make their forced union legal in the eyes of a god that Daryl was certain had abandoned all of them long ago. Sherry took Jean's daughters back to their apartment with her, leaving Jean with the promise that she would personally stay with them until Jean got back.
The door shutting behind him made Daryl nervous. But he could plainly see that while he might be shut into this room, it was clearly not an area set up for imprisonment or torture of any kind. The area was about the size of the main living area of Jean's apartment. There was a large bed on one side, made up with clean blankets and pillows. And a small table on the other side was arranged with two place settings and a vase of flowers. Daryl checked the place thoroughly, looking in all the places he thought someone might be hiding. He felt silly when he raised his fist before opening the only other door in the place. There was no danger on the other side. Only an empty bathroom with a toilet and makeshift shower inside. Jean didn't comment on his paranoia. She just sat down at the table and pulled off her high heeled shoes, rubbing her feet as she watched Daryl stalk around the room she assumed was meant to serve as their honeymoon suite.
Once the area was declared safe, Jean got up and padded around on her now bare feet. There was a box sitting in the middle of the bed with a large red bow on it. Jean assumed it was some sort of wedding present. She was curious to see what might be inside. Daryl watched as she lifted the lid of the box. Jean stared inside it for only a few seconds before she let out a little shriek. She yanked her hand back, letting the lid of the box slap shut. The way she was reacting, it was like there was a poisonous snake inside the box that was about to attack her. Jean clamped her other hand down over her mouth as she quickly backed away from the bed and the present she seemed quite interested in opening only a moment before.
"What the hell is it?," Daryl asked. Jean's only response was a high pitched giggle that squeaked out from between her fingers. Daryl stalked over to the bed, tossing the lid of the box open so see for himself what was inside. It took Daryl longer than Jean to realize what he was looking at. At first he thought he was looking at a bunch of rubber chew toys. The indestructible kind you would give to a dog. But after a moment, he realized he was right about the items being toys. But they were not meant for a dog. The entire box was full of dildos and butt plugs and other wacky looking shit that Daryl had no idea even what the intended use for might be. And he didn't think he wanted to know either. Daryl reached into the box, pulling out the most gigantic dildo he had ever seen. The thing was not only massive, it had a bunch of other weird arm looking things shooting off the sides of it. And a giant pair of fake balls at the base. Daryl had no idea what anyone would want with such an item. Unless that person was a horny elephant, he didn't think it would be of much use.
"Ohmygod," Jean shrieked. "Put that down. God only knows where that nasty thing has been." Daryl hadn't considered that the dong in question might have been used previously to him putting his hands on it. He dropped it like it burned him, wiping his fingers off on his pant leg. When the massive dong hit the ground, it turned on. Not only did the thing start vibrating hard enough to shake the entire building, the head of it started rotating aggressively. Daryl jumped back. The thing was flopping around on the floor like a deranged anaconda. Jean was backing up even more, her hand still clamped over her mouth to hold her laughter in. Daryl kicked at the thing with the toe of his boot, hoping he might get lucky and turn it off that way. Finally he reached down and snatched the disgusting thing up, throwing it forcefully back into the box and slamming the lid shut. The heavy vibration must have turned something else inside the box on. Because now there was a higher pitched vibration coming from inside. And electronic music. Daryl grabbed the entire box and headed for the door. Finding the door locked, he raised his fist and pounded on the door.
"OPEN UP," he hollered. "IT'S AN EMERGENCY!"
The door quickly swung open. A man with a gun on his back and a confused look on his face was standing in the doorway. Daryl shoved the box at him, forcing the man to either take it or have the disgusting contents spill out onto his feet. The man took the box, falling back a step with the force that was used to thrust it at him.
"What the hell is this?," the man asked, the box nearly vibrating itself out of his grip.
"Wedding favors," Daryl informed him as he quickly snapped the door shut in the man's face. In case the man had any ideas about bringing the box back into the room, Daryl locked the door from the inside. Then he turned towards Jean. He had seen her cry. And he had seen her drunk. He saw her force a smile out for her daughters. But he had never really seen her laugh before. She was leaning slightly forward, gripping the back of one of the dining chairs. And the laughter was just rolling over her body. Her dark eyes were watering. And her normally pale cheeks were tinged pink. The tiny white dress she was wearing was already stretched tightly over her hips and breasts. And the fabric looked ready to give out at any moment from the force of her giggle fit. There was nothing Daryl could do except laugh right along with her.
He sat down at the table and buried his face in his arm, just letting his body shake silently. It felt good to laugh. He couldn't remember the last time he really had.
"You've got some fucked up friends," he told Jean once he finally had his body back under control. She nodded her agreement.
"I need a drink," she admitted, picking up a bottle that was left on the table for them. It was cheap champagne. But cheap wine was better than no wine. Especially after the day she had. She popped the cork and filled two glasses, offering one to Daryl. He took the drink, tipping it back and swallowing the entire contents of the glass with a few hard swallows. Jean took a smaller sip of her drink, watching the cords in Daryl's neck move as he chugged. Before she could stop herself, her eyes roamed over his body. Like her dress, his shirt was a little too snug in the sleeves and across the chest. She could see the fabric tug and pull as he moved. Jean took another sip of her drink, swallowing hard and trying not to think about what happened between them that morning.
A knock on the door shook them both from their thoughts. Daryl rose from his chair, his body tense. He crossed the small space and flipped the lock open. After opening their wedding present, Daryl wasn't sure he wanted to know what other surprises these people had in store for him. But this time, nothing strange was going on. The woman knocking was only there to bring them dinner. She set two covered domes down on the table, one in front of each place setting. In the middle of the table she set a small plate down with two white cupcakes on it. Just as suddenly as she arrived, the woman retreated from the room, closing the door behind her.
Daryl pulled the dome off his plate, feeling hesitant at first. But there was nothing sinister inside. The smell of charcoal hit him first, followed by all sorts of other good smells. Steak and potatoes with real butter and a little scoop of vegetables that looked like they might even be fresh and not from a can. Daryl didn't need a written invitation. He plopped down in his chair and started eating. Jean sat in the seat to his left. She picked at her food in her usual way, taking tiny bites and chewing on them for what felt like forever.
Jean attempted to stay focused on her own dinner, trying not to laugh at the way Daryl was shoveling down his food like an absolute caveman. When he first arrived at her apartment, she noticed how fast he forced down the food in front of him. But she assumed at the time that he was just starving. By now, Jean realized that's just the way Daryl ate. I hope he doesn't fuck like he eats. Her mind drifted back to the marks she'd seen on his back. She felt a small pang of pity for Daryl and the sort of upbringing he must have had. The sort where he was beaten hard enough to leave permanent scars and not taught any table manners.
By the time Daryl got halfway through his plate, Jean noticed that he started to finally slow down. She reached across the table, resting her hand gently on his wrist.
"We can save the rest and have steak and eggs in the morning," she suggested, favoring him with a small soft smile. "You'll make yourself sick, eating all that at once." Daryl stuffed one more bite in his mouth. It seemed strange to him, just letting perfectly good food sit there instead of consuming it while he had the chance. But Jean was right, his stomach already felt full and he only made it through half his plate. He might puke if he forced the rest of it down. Daryl set his fork down and stood up, reaching for the domes and placing them carefully back on top of their plates.
Once they were done eating, the silence between them started to stretch out and become awkward. Daryl glanced towards the bed a few times, then back down at his hands. Jean sat, quietly watching him. Daryl seemed oddly nervous. Especially for a man that had his hand down her panties and her nipple in his mouth only a few hours before. Jean knew any of the other potential husbands in this place would have had her bent over the table before the food even arrived. Daryl's timid behavior made Jean feel a little less nervous about being locked in this room with him. She could tell nothing was going to happen that she didn't want to happen.
Daryl stared down at his hands, toying with a loose button on his shirt. Not only was the situation just weird in general. It was especially strange for him. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Or if he was supposed to do anything. He looked up when he saw Jean slowly rise up out of her chair. She stood close to him, but not so close that they were touching. Not yet. She lifted one arm, and reached her other arm under it. Daryl wasn't sure what she was doing until he saw the side of her dress fall open. She was pulling the zipper down. Once the dress was unzipped, she pushed the straps down off her shoulders and wiggled the rest of the way out of the tight garment. She revealed a small pair of white lace panties. And a white lace bra that was so sheer, the dark pink of her nipples showed through the fabric.
Her bra went next. She unsnapped the clasp and let it slide down off her arms, dropping it to the floor on top of her dress. Her movements were slow and deliberate. But her breathing was speeding up, her now naked breasts heaving with the rapid movements of her chest. She hooked her thumbs under the material of her panties, pushing them down over her hips and stepping out of them once they slid down her legs. She was on the thin side even before the stress of her losing her husband took what little extra weight she had to spare. Now, her ribs and hip bones were visible beneath her skin. But she still hadn't lost the curve of her hips or the fullness of her breasts. Her stomach was flat, only a little sliver of stretched skin between her hips remained from the two children she carried inside her.
Daryl reached out his hand, resting it on the curve of her hip. His thumb rubbed back and forth across her stomach. She leaned into his touch. But just as quickly as he reached for her, he jerked his hand back.
"We don't hafta," he stammered. "I don't expect… I mean…" He fumbled over his words, trying to find the right ones when all he could think about was getting his hands in her hair and his mouth on her skin.
"You don't owe me this," Daryl finally said. "I did it because I wanted you and the girls to have a safe place to stay. I didn't do it for this."
"I know," Jean replied. She reached for Daryl this time, running her fingers through his thick mop of hair. "But we do have to," she added, "because they're watching us to make sure you're not just faking it until you can make your escape."
Daryl looked up at Jean, his face masked with confusion. Jean ticked her chin up and to her left. Daryl followed the direction with his gaze. There was a camera installed in the corner of the ceiling. The little red light on it blinking slowly. They were not only being watched, they were being recorded.
"The fuck," Daryl cursed. He stood up, pulling his shirt off. He popped a few of the already loose buttons in his haste to get the garment off him and wrapped around Jean. She threaded her arms through the sleeves, but she made no move to close the shirt around her. While it was small on Daryl, the shirt was oversized on her. It hung down past her hips, covering her entire back from the prying eyes of whoever was watching them. Daryl's extreme concern that someone else might get a look at her naked body made her smile a little.
"We still don't have to… you know," Daryl told her. "They won't know."
Jean reached for his hand, putting it inside the shirt and back on her hip. The same place he reached for before he yanked his hand away. This time he left it there.
"I know we don't have to," Jean said, her voice just above a whisper. "But I want to. I want you."
Not only did she want him, she knew Daryl wanted her. He wanted her so badly his hands were shaking. He reached up with his other hand, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. Daryl leaned forward, resting his head against her stomach. Jean leaned down, actually whispering what she said next. "I know you still want to get back to your people. I don't expect you to turn on them because of me. We have tonight. Let's just enjoy it. And we can worry about what comes next tomorrow. Okay?" Daryl didn't answer. He just turned his head and ran his tongue across the hollow of her stomach, sucking at the skin there. Jean twined her fingers into his hair, a soft little moan escaping her lips. When Daryl started to rise from his chair with the clear intent of heading towards the bed, Jean put her hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down.
"Hold on just a second," she teased, "we didn't have dessert yet."