Black Strobe - I'm a Man
Zowie - Bite Back
Zowie - Smash It
Lana Del Ray - Young and Beautiful
Mourning Ritual - Bad Moon Rising (cover)
Gorillaz - Feel Good Inc.
Gorillaz - Clint Eastwood
Well there wasn't supposed to be a chapter two, but I've been trying to get a friend (Distant Moon) into the show and she's head over heels for Daryl.\
Mature content alert! You've been warned!
He's hallucinatin' again and he knows it, the hell if he cares this time though. It isn't his ugly as hell brother tauntin' and annoyin' him, ain't some walker comin' at him in the bedroom he was given and thank the fucking lord it isn't anyone else. It isn't anyone else. It's her and she's makin' him go nuts without even fucking being there for real. He knows sure as anything this can't be real because she told him not too long ago she'd send Carol up with his dinner.
The Sarah he knows isn't in the room with him is playin' with the buttons on her black n' purple shirt, unbuttonin' them one at a time real slow, while tracing the curves of her breasts with the other hand. She's watchin' him watch her, an' it's got to be the hottest thing in the whole damn world. The shirt falls open givin' him the nicest view he's seen since before the world fell apart. She's all peachy skin and – Jesus Christ – a pale pink bra he wants to pull off her to stop it from blockin' his view.
He's wondering if she tastes like peaches.
The shirt drops an' her long fingers start workin' on the button and zip to her faded blue jeans. He's sittin' up now, more than one part of him. He'd like nothin' better than to get up, grab her and get this started. He's bettin' she'll claw his back an' whisper roughly in his ear with that Irish brogue of hers. Daryl's not sure if he can handle her callin' him by his name while he's inside her.
His mouth goes dry when the jeans drop too and all she's wearing is pink underwear. She bites her lower lip, puts one hand up to her hair and yanks it out of the pony tail it's always in. Her hair falls around her shoulders, an' just like a model on TV she shakes it out. Christ, all that long black curly hair…he's got half a mind to wind it up in his fist while he's in her.
"C'mere," he manages his voice is uneven an' barely recognizable as his.
She considers it for a moment, hands on her hips, one finger tappin' against those pink panties he can't wait to pull off her. He swears he almost feels the bed dip as she crawls across it toward him, blue eyes meetin' his, her lower lip caught between her teeth. She looks better than anythin' or anyone he's ever seen, her arms, breasts, stomach, hips, thighs…better than any half assed fantasy he's ever jerked off to before. Sexier than any woman he had before.
He's had strippers and maybe once in a while he's had a nice girl crossing to his side of the tracks for a little fun. Neither stayed long. They'd wise up sooner or later. Once the world went to shit…well…
Sarah doesn't see any of his crisscrossed scars from his bastard father when she's lookin' at him. He doesn't find any pity in her eyes. She's lookin' at him with as much heat as he's feelin' lookin' back at her.
When she leans down and plants a kiss right above his belt his hips jerk. He's got no control over it, been that long since he's been touched by anyone like that. And he wants her so damn bad. The tent in his pants is hard to ignore, but it doesn't seem to bother her none. She smiles at him and it's not a nice smile, it's a smile tellin' him she's got him right where she wants him and she likes it that way. He's lost and he doesn't give a good god damn about it. Long as she's there it won't matter. Sarah presses those red lips against his chin, neck, collar bone…she's working her way south and he's more than ready for her.
His cock jumps.
She giggles.
Daryl can feel his skin turnin' red. "Ain't funny."
To make it up to him she licks a long, slow, wet line up his chest. He groans, his head fallin' back, on the headboard, eyes closing. Only so much a man can take before he goes crazy, an' he's not far from it. Crazy that is. He's workin' on breathin' slow when he feels her tug at his belt and work on the fly to his pants. Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
He's hopes like hell this isn't like when he saw his ugly ass brother. He doesn't want this to be like that. Not now. Daryl's prayin' to god this isn't a fever dream, that he's not hallucinatin' or havin' a real vivid fantasy.
Not when her hand wraps around him like that and starts strokin' just the way he likes. He has to grab her wrist, slow her down, he wants this to last a little while because it's been a long time for him. He's not the kind of man who wants to blow his load and not get his lady off too. Darly's always made the woman he was with come, whether it was with his fingers, his mouth or his-
Her mouth is hot and wet, her tongue moves in quick little circles around the head. His fingers are tangled in all that dark hair and Jesus Christ, he can't think enough to save his life. Walkers could get through that damn door and he'd never even notice. His world narrows to being in her mouth with that warm tongue of hers movin' up the underside of his cock. Daryl's swearin' under his breath, his head is spinnin' and the pressure at the base of his spine tells him he's so damn close.
"Sarah," his voice is rough, his eyes close, he's almost-
There's a knock at the door, not his, the one across the way. Carl's room. It breaks him from whatever fantasy he's been livin' for the last twenty minutes. Carol's voice is soft as she tells Lori, or Rick maybe, that dinner is ready.
Daryl's breathin' hard, his cock strains in his pants, throbbin' because it wants to finish what his brain started. He takes a few deep slow breaths and realizes he's been asleep. A low, disappointed, frustrated sound breaks its way out of his throat. With a growl he leans over and plucks a few tissues from the box on the night stand. He closes his eyes again, seein' her again in just those pink panties and this time, no bra.
His hand pumps up and down, his teeth clenched to keep his groans quiet.
Jesus Christ this has gotta be the worst kind of torture. Maybe the best kind. He's not sure but it's driving him fucking nuts.
I'm a bad person. Poor Daryl.
These are out of order, yes. No I'm not putting them in order.
You can thank Distant Moon for this chapter.
I apologize for any misspellings or skipped words. I'll fix it later. I'm exhausted from the wedding I went to yesterday.
