~20~

Daryl craves her touch.

No matter, how often he touches her, it's not enough.

It will never be enough.

In his past, touches meant pain.

Human contact meant pain.

He prefered to be on his own.

Nobody could harm him, when he was alone.

And than he met Carol.

And his world shifted.

She wormed her way under his skin, in his heart. Mind. Soul.

The way, their hands brush, when she hands him a bowl with stew.

The way, she massages his shoulders, when he pulls a muscle.

The way, she stiches him up, when he's injured.

The way, she grips his dick, stroking him firmly into oblivion.