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Will does something unforgivable - His thoughts gets more detailed and graphic in this one so please don't read if you're bothered by that.

Part 4: Scars

He was too surprised to even flinch or struggle. "Dad, what's wrong?"

"Think you wasted enough hot water, ya greedy little shit?" Shaking him, he noticed Daryl's lips were slightly trembling in the cold air after coming from the steamy bathroom. Somehow, he knew it wasn't from fear. Will had long become an expert at reading the signs of it on his two sons' faces and this wasn't it. And he felt pissed over that fact.
"Any left for your brother and me? Ya ever think about that?" He snarled instead as he released him.

Stumbling on unsteady legs because he realised the danger he was in, Daryl moved backwards towards his room. "It wasn't that long. I'll be back, just wanna get dressed."

"There's no need for that, son.''

Daryl just stared at him and his feet stopped moving then, sensing he dark mood of his father. 'Wha..What?' He stammered.

'Oh, you know, son. Don't pretend ya don't know what I'm talkin' about.' Will crooned at him. He enjoyed the foreplay so to speak, the anticipation of it almost as much as the main event. Messing with Daryl's mind beforehand and getting him confused. Racking his brains no doubt, trying to figure out why Will was pissed at him this time, thinking that it couldn't just be from standing in the shower too long. He hoped his weird comment would instil some fear and respect back into the boy.
But the only answer he got was him staring at him with a set of eyes that shined bright with fear as he noticed the belt dangling from Will's right hand, drawing a smirk from his father.
"Can't even answer, 'cos ya know ya did wrong, can ya, boy? Get back inside that bathroom.'

"W...Why?"

"Jus' do it!" He barked, making Daryl jump. Obediently, he walked back inside and stood next to the bathtub, his face grown pale and his eyes full of questions at this strange command. That was until his father's next words made what was about to happen clearer if it wasn't obvious before: "Bend over it."

"What? No! I wasn't that long!"

"Bend over, or it'll be worse." Will ordered him coldly.
He could tell being covered only by a towel around his waist made his son uncomfortable, to say the least. Probably, he was afraid that it would slip off while he was being whipped but he was a good boy and did what he was told. Out of habit, he braced himself by clinging to the edge of the bathtub.
Will felt a moment of doubt when he could so easily see his son obey and tense up, preparing his body for the pain to come. Something about his bravery and resolve touched Will, or aroused him - he wasn't yet sure which. But when his eyes roamed to the towel hugging his son's hips, he steeled himself again and brushed all thoughts of not going through with it aside. The fleeting desire to rip it away and have his hands hugging those hips instead of the fabric had been almost too overpowering.

The only way for him to stop himself giving in and showing mercy was to double up the belt in his fist. He was trying to calm himself with the familiar feel of the leather in his hands, knowing that the impulses and the need to touch would soon die away once he started and got more into meting out discipline. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as he heard the reassuring swish, the whine of the buckle that shortly followed before it hit skin and left its first mark.
Daryl took the first five lashes like a champ in total silence.

But on the eighth, Will could see the change in him when his knuckles turned white while he squeezed the edge of the bath tub as hard as he, could making him pause.
"What's the matter with ya, boy? Why ain't ya whinin' and pleadin' like you usually do?"

Daryl stubbornly refused to answer him, silently defying him and enraging Will further. Now, when he resumed the whipping, he wasn't holding back at all, not in the force of the lashes or where he aimed them.
The towel fell to the floor during the twelfth causing Will to stop. Mesmerized he stared at his now fully naked son's trembling body tense with pain, especially his buttocks. He could tell that Daryl was struggling to keep standing but still hadn't uttered one sound of pain up to this point.
Disgusted with himself, Will clenched his jaw together and determinedly looked elsewhere, anywhere other than his son's body and bloody back. Yet his eyes was drawn to a single drop of blood slowly making its way down his boy's side and he followed it as it trickled down over his hip.

He felt the urge to stop, to say he was sorry, that he didn't mean it and make it all better, like he always did. But this time, he found that he couldn't. Probably because Daryl hadn't even cried out in pain yet. That usually made him break up the punishment but there was a subtle change. If it was in him or his son, in them both, Will didn't know for sure.

For the first time, it was like Daryl was challenging him, almost as if he was making a point to his father, telling him that nothing he could do to him would ever make him beg for it all to stop.

Daryl turned round after a while to stare at him, hoping it was finally over. This slightly defiant move finally snapped Will out of his thoughts of having mercy on the boy, instead, with the soft side of the belt he lashed out again, flicking Daryl on the cheek. 'Face back to the wall, boy! I ain't done with ya yet.' He barked.
Even at this, his son didn't react. Will had the suspicion that maybe he was in shock. He must be in a lot of pain but he couldn't see it from his expression.
His face had been empty of emotions.

He was annoyed that Daryl still managed to get under his skin when he was punishing him, that he was capable of making him waver in his resolve when Merle had never made him hesitate. Daryl should be crying and begging for him to stop by now.

Will had always treated his brother differently when he punished him. He'd usually carry on for a while just so the boy wouldn't think him weak but eventually he'd stop to soothe him and to apologize.
Was it only because he was the youngest?
Will shook his head, confused even at how he himself was acting. Now that Daryl was doing what Will always wanted - acting like a Dixon and taking his punishment without showing any signs of being in pain - it wasn't enough. He missed the way Daryl usually reacted, the sounds of helplessness and protest the boy made or his pleas for mercy. Will knew he had to step up his game.
Daryl probably didn't realize it, but by being brave, he was also implying that Will Dixon was weak without speaking a word and his father just couldn't have that.

Increasing the pace in which the belt buckle rained down on his back now, he took out his new surge of wrath on him. But after a while of this, with still no response from Daryl, frustrated he tried something else by deliberately changing the frequency and the timing of the whippings.
Sometimes lashing him twice very fast or leaving a gap between the blows. This meant that Daryl was unable to anticipate when or how many would come, making the experience even worse for him and all Will could hear now was the slaps of the belt on his skin and his son's labored breathing. He'd begun to scream out occasionally now but he still didn't cry or beg for him to stop.
On some level he was proud of his boy who had never shown this much endurance before. Like he was forcing himself to grow up fast, almost.

That was until his hands let go of the bathtub and he collapsed to the bathroom floor, sobbing and burying his face in his hands. Obviously not caring about the consequences of moving from his spot without permission. Part of Will felt relief, he knew how to deal with him when Daryl was behaving like he was used to and now he could comfort him.

It was no wonder really that the boy had simply given in, what with the 25 ugly whip marks oozing blood on his back, added to the ones he already had.
More than that that, the desperate sobs coming from his youngest son flicked some switch inside him and he dropped the belt suddenly and grabbed Daryl and held him to his chest on the bathroom floor. He couldn't bring himself to care that he was getting his shirt all smeared with blood as he started to silently rock him back and forth in his arms, letting him know that it was over.

But Daryl carried on crying, didn't seem to even be aware of what was going on.

Will was shocked himself at the bloody mess that was his son's back now and he was also aware that Daryl would be scarred for life again after this. Even his big brother's back wasn't as marked up as this – not from the belt, anyway. All because of an impulse of rage and inappropriate thoughts and him simply getting lost in the moment, he hadn't realised how bad he was hurting him at the time. Now he felt like a real asshole when he could feel his son begin to tremble in his arms again. If it was from fear or just shock, he couldn't tell but guessed that it was probably from both.

It didn't really matter either when he saw his son trying to keep his noise down and getting frustrated when he couldn't control his emotions.
"Hey, you did good. This time I forgive you for cryin'."
He didn't answer or react and suddenly a chilling fear took hold of Will when being afraid for him was as rare as snow in July. But the realisation that maybe he had gone too far this time made him scared shitless. Punishing his son like this had all started out as a thought, an impulse. What if he gave in to his other impulses as well? What if he couldn't resist? All it took, really, was one moment of weakness like this one. The thought terrified him to say the least. He shook his head, looking down on his son who was still sobbing in his lap.
'I know. I know, it hurts.' He spoke softly close to his ear with a voice thick with regret. 'I'm so sorry, Daddy's sorry. Why do you continue doing it to me, huh? Why can't you jus' be a good boy for once?'

Miraculously, Daryl stopped crying and started struggling after his initial freeze when his father had pulled him to him. No doubt, he'd been expecting further and possibly even more brutal treatment for moving away from the bathtub without Will announcing that the punishment was over.

Daryl stirred in his lap, the shock slowly leaving him: 'Get off me!' He hissed, clawing at his father's hands around him, struggling to get free from the monster who'd hurt him so badly.

'Sh...sh...I'm not gonna hurt ya.' Will tried to calm his son as he rocked him faster because he knew he was terrified and in agony despite the new brave face he was putting on.
While he was trying to make it all better like none of it had happened, he was starting to feel something - down there. His crotch namely, which his son's naked buttocks were innocently rubbing up against each time he tried to move away.
But hadn't Will wanted this to happen? The towel to fall off? Otherwise, why didn't he just let the boy get dressed before punishing him? Or at least put on some pants?
Will felt his face go red as he tried to shake these unnatural thoughts out of his head.

He was suddenly more aware of the squirming young, plump yet slim body he held in his arms. If you didn't count his back that had now been permanently marked by him, Daryl had perfect, baby-smooth skin.
'Why couldn't ya be a girl Merle's age?' He heard himself mutter in his son's ear as if he had no control over his mouth. Daryl stopped struggling then to turn around to stare at him in shock. He hadn't heard, had he?
Will wasn't an idiot, he knew it was wrong getting excited from holding his son in his lap. And it was more than wrong – it was damn sick to have his body reacting the way it was now.

Daryl didn't seem aware of it though, and Will thanked God or whatever higher power if there was any, for that.
He tried to explain it to himself the best way he could, that he just enjoyed the friction it created, and the fact that it was Daryl providing it had nothing to do with it. Just his body's physical reaction. But he knew better.
It had been so long since he'd got some – their Mama'd been gone for two years and there'd been some broads in between. But they hadn't hung around long after they'd had a personal taste of the infamous, Dixon-temper.
Of course, he always knew how to take care of himself and when he did, he found his 11 year old son gradually replacing the pin-up models he usually fantasized about. Afterwards though, he felt guilty and was disgusted with himself.

But they were only fantasies. Fantasies couldn't hurt Daryl, could they? He vowed he would never give into these sick desires he found himself experiencing more of lately. To his complete horror, powerful and vivid pictures assaulted his mind then, making him bite the inside of his cheeks to stifle a groan. They mostly involved throwing his little boy onto the hard bathroom floor and taking him there just like that.
This made him hold onto his son tighter, to stop him from slipping out of his grip, at the same time he grimaced to himself. How could he even think that way? What kind of sick mind did he have? He, for damn sure wasn't no fag and he hated kiddie-fiddlers even more than he hated gays and niggers. Or the Jews.

He tried to block out these images as much as he could by snorting through his nose to calm himself down.
'Stop strugglin'. I said I'm not gonna hurt ya.' He still kept his voice soft but now there was a dangerous undertone of impatience to it. He attempted to shift Daryl in his lap, off his groin because by now, he was desperate for his son to stop moving onto his half hardness, it wouldn't take long now for him to pick up on the fact and turn the situation into something even uglier than it already was. God forbid, if it did happen, he could just see it all in his head and hear Daryl innocently telling his big brother and not realising what he was saying. Telling Merle who knew better and that spelt out danger.
But luckily Daryl was still unaware of the effects his squirming had on his father and he kept on grinding his buttocks onto his crotch, making Will hiss into his ear: "Damn it boy, stop movin'. Let Daddy jus' hold ya and say sorry. I know I did wrong, I ain't gonna hurt you.'

'You always say that!'

The words were a slap in the face for Will mainly because he knew they were true.
Even though Daryl was clearly angry and upset, he could hear that familiar, defeated, submissive tone to his voice that made Will ease up on his controlling, possessive grip and it became a more relaxed and tender one. He felt relief swamp him when he felt Daryl relax at last and thank God, finally still his movements.
'Sh..sh..Daddy ain't gonna hurt ya no more, promise. I'll never do it again...I'll change, stop drinkin'...' He spoke softly, careful to avoid any anger in the voice that Daryl was used to hearing more often than not these days.
Incredibly, his son leaned against him then, despite the pain it must have caused him to press his lacerated back against Will's shirt. "I'll clean you right up in a little while, son. Give you some painkillers, maybe something to calm ya down, too... Let's just stay like this for a while, huh? What do ya say to that?"

'It don't hurt much.' Daryl looked up at him but Will knew he was lying, the grimace of pain on his face when he moved told a very different story. He shifted then so that his side was lying against his father instead of his painful back.

Will looked down at Daryl proudly and pulled him tighter to his chest then as his fingers began to move slowly through his son's hair. After a short time of doing this, he could feel Daryl slump against him in exhaustion and his trembling slowly coming to a stop. 'I'm proud of ya.' He crooned to him as he started to rock him again like he nearly always did afterwards. Will would often brutally punish Daryl, then comfort him tenderly afterwards. 'Daddy's sorry. Can you ever forgive him?'

He smiled when he felt his son nod his head against his chest and knew then that he would forgive him – like he always did, even for this latest vicious whipping, even more brutal than usual.
His sweet boy would forgive him.
But would he forgive everything? Like what he dreamt of doing, the temptation that tormented him daily?

Will knew he wouldn't, because even sweet Daryl must have his limits. His fingers briefly stopped combing through Daryl's hair for a couple of seconds and he dug his fingernails into his palm instead so as not get lost in that dangerous train of thought again. That could be disastrous with Daryl still in his lap. With no chance of relief in sight, Will was deathly afraid that he might not be able to hide his desire for much longer. He swore to himself over and over, that he would never give in to that, never.
'Daddy ain't ever gonna hurt ya again, Daryl. I won't ever let it make me lose control. Promise.' He muttered almost inaudibly into his ear without meaning to.

Damn those keen hunter's ears that the boy had inherited because of course he caught what he'd said. Will's heart skipped a beat as his son looked up sharply at him with mingled confusion and surprise.
'Don't worry, son. It ain't important.' Will whispered and started stroking his hair again to reassure him. He didn't put two and two together - was too innocent for that.
Daryl ducked back down and cuddled into his father again. He closed his eyes at the soothing rocking motion and the pleasurable sensation of Will's fingers moving in his hair, soon, despite the pain he must be in, he seemed to be sleeping.

Will smiled because it seemed like he could just as easily inflict pain as well as he could take it all away, merely with his touch.
This made his thoughts spin as he tried to analyze the why's.
His need to comfort had a lot to do with the fact that Daryl was the youngest, his baby and he was always genuinely sorry afterwards.

That he had a soft spot for him was putting it mildly but the Dixon in him wouldn't let him show it other than after punishments taken too far.

Will shook his head as he looked down at the now fully relaxed boy in his arms. He'd never held Merle like this after he roughed him up. Not like he'd ever had any reason to, that boy was tough as nails, and probably would have taken it as an insult. But he doubted even Merle could handle the whipping Daryl got this day without making some noise at least. He'd never been quite as brutal with his first-born -not like he was with his youngest - something about the boy made him want to rip him apart.

Of course, forever present were the scars that served as a reminder of the God damned feelings that refused to leave him. That was why Daryl's back was littered with the worst scars that stood out the most, after all.
Whenever he saw them later on they would scream accusations at him. However, instead of stopping him, they only increased his rage.

The effects of this unpredictable behavior from his father became more and more apparent over time in the way Daryl behaved.

Will had a feeling that when he held Daryl afterwards and rocked him, the boy thought it was almost worth all the pain. There was just something about the trusting way he eventually let himself go, to be comfortable enough to be around his father who was the one who made him hurt so badly in the first place. His ability to deal with the pain in a calm manner showed the boy wasn't weak like Will often taunted him of being when his anger took over and he scolded him for crying.
Listening to his father telling him how sorry he was had something to do with that too, he mused to himself, gentle words was something very rare in their house. Therefore, his son soaked up the praise and his pleas for forgiveness like a sponge did water, it never failed.
The way he promised that it would never happen again, though they both knew on some level that wasn't true. Despite knowing this, there was always that unmistakable spark of hope in those blue eyes – that maybe, this time, the promise was for real. Until he stopped believing him of course – Will was actually a bit surprised that hadn't happened already. But then Daryl always had had an optimistic, sweet and forgiving nature. He was different from his brother, probably there had never been a Dixon born who was like him. Is that why Will had to fight the urge to ravish him, tear him apart?