AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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It was really all that Carol could do to emerge from the bathroom in a dignified manner and present herself to Daryl, who was already reclining in bed and waiting on her. She wanted to run toward him. She wanted to practically fling herself on the bed with the same sort of abandon that June used to leap onto the bed that was still a little too tall for her.
She wanted to tell Daryl that she could see it—the first clear proof of their growing baby—and, though it was probably not proper to be happy about the imminent loss of her figure, she was practically dizzy with excitement over something as simple as some tightly pulled cotton that hugged her in a rather unseemly way.
Daryl would have understood. He would have even found it humorous, more than likely, for Carol to come barreling into the room and throw herself across the bed at him, but she held back. She walked in as calmly as she could.
There was no need to hide her smile of expectation, though, and she didn't even try.
"Everyone asleep?" Carol asked.
"Without so much as an argument," Daryl said. He lit a cigarette and dragged his ashtray over. "I mean it. They were worn out. One story each an' they were both about ready to sleep 'fore I even finished." Daryl's words ran right into a yawn, and he stretched with his free arm.
"It sounds like you might be ready for sleep," Carol said. "Are you sure you're—feeling up to this?"
He smiled to himself, evidence of sleepiness on his features.
"I'm always feelin' up to lovin' with you," he assured her. "Come on around here. Lemme see this nightgown you made."
Carol smiled to herself. She hooked her fingers behind her back and controlled the excitement in her step to little more than an additional bounce as she moved on the balls of her feet. She circled around the front of the bed and walked to Daryl's side of the bed. She stood, as if ready for inspection, before she turned slowly to give him the full view of herself. When she turned to look at him, he was smoking with a visible crease between his brows.
Immediately, Carol felt some concern over the expression.
"Something wrong?" She asked quietly.
"I like that color," Daryl said.
"I knew you would," Carol offered. "That's why I chose it."
"Beautiful," Daryl said. "You know I love—love seein' you in blue. Brings out your eyes." Carol smiled. The concerned feeling in her stomach was replaced by the feeling of butterflies that Daryl always seemed to be able to give her—no matter how many years had passed. "Prettiest eyes in the state of Georgia."
"Only according to you," Carol said, laughing to herself and rocking her feet.
"Well—my opinion is the only one that matters," Daryl said, clearly amused.
"That's true," Carol agreed. "So—you like the gown?"
"Well—now…I like the color," Daryl said, the crease returning between his brows. He sat up and took a long drag on his cigarette. "And—it's a pretty gown and all, but…"
"But?" Carol prompted, when he broke off.
"I don't want you to get upset or…take this wrong, Carol," Daryl said, breaking off again.
"You can say whatever you want, Daryl," Carol offered, shifting her weight.
"Is it how you wanted it, or…is it—a little tight?" Daryl asked, practically grimacing as he said the words.
Carol smiled to herself.
"Is it that obvious?" Carol asked.
"You're not upset I said it?"
"No, I'm not," she assured him. "I had…already noticed."
"It's not like you to slip like that," Daryl said, snubbing out the finished cigarette and washing down the taste of it with water from the glass on his bedside table. Carol made a mental note to refill his glass for him later as nothing more than a gesture of hoping he had sweet dreams. "Usually everything you make or tailor fits like a glove—whether it's you or somebody else that's wearin' it."
"I didn't slip," Carol said.
"Hmm?" Daryl hummed.
"I didn't slip," Carol said, stepping closer to him now instead of keeping her distance like she was displaying herself for him to view. "The sizing was perfect, Daryl. I measured twice and cut once, like I always do. I tried it on the moment that I finished it. It was just what I wanted it to be—what it was supposed to be."
"Like this?" He asked.
Carol smiled to herself and shook her head.
"No," she said.
"It shrink?" Daryl asked.
"No," Carol said, swallowing back her laughter. "I think—I grew. I think—someone else grew, Daryl. And, so, I had no choice but to grow."
Daryl stared at her. His Adam's apple visibly bobbed as he appeared to either force himself to swallow in rapid succession or else found it difficult to swallow in the first place. He reached for the glass and drained the rest of the water that he had there.
He cleared his throat.
"You mean—baby's growin'?"
"That's what they do, Daryl," Carol said. "They grow. And—I grow with it, as you can see."
"I can see that," Daryl agreed.
"Do you mind it?"
"That the baby grows?"
"That I grow with it," Carol clarified.
Daryl laughed to himself and shrugged his shoulders.
"That's what happens, ain't it? Like you just said. Baby grows so—you grow. Accommodate it. Make room for it."
"I might never get my figure back," Carol warned.
"You'll get it back," Daryl said. "But—even if you didn't…"
"If I didn't, what?" Carol pressed.
Daryl shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know," he said. "It wouldn't matter?"
"Are you asking me that or telling me, Daryl?" Carol asked.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"I've never been in love with your figure, Carol. I mean—I like it, don't get me wrong. There ain't never been nothin' wrong with you, really…not even when you were insistin' on dieting here or there…or whatever changes you saw that bothered you so much. I've liked how you've looked forever. And I like how you look now. I guess the point I'm trying to make is that—get your figure back or don't? It won't change anything for me."
"I love you," Carol declared as she let herself practically hop toward him, then. He flicked the cover back, and stood up quickly so that he could meet her. His hands immediately went to her ribcage, and he held her as he kissed her.
"Good," he said. "That's good. Because—I love you, too, and I'm going to need you to remember that you love me when you realize it's me that got you in such a state that made you lose your figure. Why don't you come outta this thing?"
Carol laughed.
"So, you don't like it," she teased.
"Not quite like this," Daryl admitted. "It's a little tight. I don't want you suffocating the baby."
"I don't think that it'll suffocate the baby," Carol said. "Do you? Is that what you think?"
Daryl laughed quietly and pulled the gown off. It was tight enough that Carol almost felt like she was being peeled as he lifted it. She lifted her arms to let him help her out of it.
"Hush now," he soothed. "I'm just joshing with you."
He smiled at her when the gown was over her head. Unceremoniously, he balled it up and pitched it toward the foot of the bed where it landed half on the trunk where Carol stored the extra linens and half dribbling to the floor. Carol leaned forward and caught Daryl's lips. He happily kissed her, his hand coming up so that his thumb could gently brush her jaw.
"It got you out of it, didn't it?" He asked, his smile returning as soon as the kiss broke.
"You can always do that," Carol replied.
Daryl leaned and kissed the crook of Carol's neck. A shiver ran through her body. He kissed out to her shoulder and then came back to the crook of her neck to work his way slowly and methodically down to her collarbone.
She tipped her head back and closed her eyes.
Everything in that moment was perfect. The feeling of his lips was perfect. The gentle scrape of his teeth was perfect. The warmth of his breath and the occasional dampness where his tongue darted out to taste her skin was perfect. His mouth made its way down, as he changed his position, to suckle a nipple, and Carol groaned out her pleasure at the sensation.
Her breasts were not only growing in size, but they seemed to be growing in sensitivity. His touch, at that moment, practically felt like electricity that surged through her body and jolted all the way down between her legs like lightning strikes. She throbbed, her desire to feel more of him was nearly painful.
She didn't have to beg for more, though, because she could already feel the pressure of Daryl's fingertips as he slipped his hands inside the back of her cotton panties and kneaded the skin of her ass beneath his fingertips. He slipped his hands all the way down, his mouth never ceasing its exploration of her, until he finally squeezed her ass and then removed her panties. She stepped out of them as he pushed them to the point of falling down her legs.
Immediately, his hand went between her legs and his fingers teased her—just hard and fast enough to remind her that he'd done this a hundred times.
Carol knew that certain things weren't really considered proper—not even in the matrimonial bed—and the only time she'd heard them really mentioned were in hushed conversations where women prefaced what they were going to discuss by saying that it was improper, and they were referencing it only as that—something to ridicule. They used euphemisms and half-truths. They spoke about women who behaved as whores, whether or not they were with the man that they'd sworn to be with for the rest of their lives.
Carol had been considered a whore before, and she may very well be considered a whore for the rest of her life by certain standards, but she denied her husband nothing. Her body was his to do with what he wanted. She doted on him. She spoiled him. She gave herself to him willingly, and often, and in every possible way that he requested that she give herself to him.
And, in return, he pleasured her body in ways that would have made the biddies that judged her blush crimson. He explored her happily and greedily with his mouth and his hands. There was no part of her that had been left untouched and untasted many times through the years.
She gave herself to Daryl without hesitation because he had taught her that he would return her generosity by offering her pleasures that, according to some, she wasn't even supposed to dream of experiencing.
But Daryl was her husband, and a wife had a duty to her husband—even the biddies would tell her that—so she didn't very well think that there could be anything wrong with mutual enjoyment in their marital bed.
Tonight, burning hot with kind of fever that only seemed stoked by the first recognition of the growth of the baby that they'd hoped for during so many years, Daryl's passion was nearly all-consuming. As she normally did, Carol gave herself over to him. She let him take the lead, knowing that he would somehow know what was just perfect for the both of them. He took her to bed, and they rolled together, tangling the sheets around them, until they were both sweaty, winded, exhausted, and utterly, utterly satisfied.
"I could use another bath," Carol said as Daryl placed a kiss against her forehead, pulling her tighter against him with his arm around her neck.
"Take one in the mornin'," he offered.
"Between breakfast and everything else, there won't be time. I'll be lucky if I can even manage a quick shower."
"I'll wake you up early," Daryl said. "Extra early. Early enough we can—raise your heart rate a little and freshen up this dewy glow you got goin' on before you wash it off."
Carol sat up enough to be sure that he could see her face. She raised her eyebrows at him.
"That's big talk for a Monday morning," she said. "Especially from a man that I usually have to drag out of bed on Mondays like one of the kids."
Daryl laughed to himself. He put his hand on her head and pushed it down, coaxing her to rest her head on his chest again.
"You put some sweet lovin' on offer for the morning," he said. "Be real sweet to me? Not only will I wake up, but…I'll make some pancakes while you're gettin' showered off."
Carol smiled to herself. Since it was clear that Daryl wanted her to remain there, for just a little longer, with her head against his chest, she didn't lift her head or try to move away from. Instead, she nuzzled her face against him.
"You've got yourself a deal," she assured him.