Summary: Daryl and Murphy have a drunken one night stand. Skip if not your jam, as there is sex and vulgarity ahead.
"Only virgin around here is you, pussy. Probably don't even know what to do with a woman." I taunt, not flinching when Daryl gets to his feet.
"I'm more than willing to show ya, like I said, maybe it will help you pull the stick outta your ass." He growls.
I know it's the alcohol, it has to be. At least that's what I'm telling myself as I turn around and shove him. I growl right back, shoving again before he grabs my wrists and backs up, pinning me to the tan wall behind us. Alcohol. Again, the only reason.
"All you gotta say is yes." He releases my wrists, leaving me stunned for a second.
"Then fucking yes! Unless you're scared." I challenge him. The back of my brain is asking what the hell I'm doing.
I barely have time to blink as lips meet, nipping and fighting for dominance. My breath ghosts over his lips, his name falling softly. The taste of Southern Comfort on his tongue brings a hum against his lips. My arms slide behind his neck, one hand tangling fingers in his hair and tugging. My tongue slides over his in a needy moment as his hands come down and grip the back of my thighs. I'm a curvy girl and admit to squeaking against his lips when he lifts me from the ground.
"Shut up." He grunts, catching my lips in another kiss, trying to silence me as if he knew I was going to question being picked up. While it may seem harsh, the way he tells me to shut up, I don't know… To me, it didn't feel like that.
Fingers stay tangled in his hair, tugging roughly as he carries me through the doors of the rec room, using his foot to push open the door on the left, one he was using as a room. It used to clearly be someone's office, which now just had a mattress on the floor, which hey no more than that is needed. He kicks the door closed, setting me on my feet. Breaths are heavy when lips finally part, both of us staring at one another for a moment, almost confirming we are both consenting here. Reluctantly, I release my hold on him, licking my lips to chase the taste of his kiss. His blue gaze meets the mismatch of mine. We are still in challenge mode.
"You gonna fuck me or stare at me, Dixon?" I grin, pulling my shirt and sports bra over my head, tanned and scarred skin on display for him. Every curve and every stretch mark on display for him. If I wasn't drunk, maybe I would be a bit shy, but here we are and I have a very nice buzz going on.
"Both. Crazy bitch." He laughs, already out of his shirt and working on his pants. I notice the marks on his skin, bruises, and scars. They tell a story, which at the moment I am buzzed to even begin to decipher.
"You know what they say, crazy girls fuck better." Snorting at him, shimming out of my jean shorts and panties, tossing them aside. My hands come down to my soft stomach, while not obese, my stomach isn't flat. More soft and a bit jiggly. My thighs are thick, marred by scars, and yes, even cellulite. Never said I was a model. I almost try to hide it, until Daryl looks at me. Eyes dark, almost predatory. Like I'm his prey.
"Lucky me then." There is sarcasm in his tone, matching the same I carry.
I don't have time to think anymore when he pulls me close, tumbling onto the mattress, both grunting. His weight presses down, pinning me to the bed. It's comfortable in a way. My knees come up, resting against Daryl's sides as my hips buck up to meet him and create friction, welcoming the slide of his cock between wet folds that are already aching for him.
He brings one hand to rest beside my head, watching me as my hands slide up his back. His gaze never leaves mine as his other hand comes down, rough fingers finding my clit and rubbing slow circles. He leans down, brushing his lips over mine, chuckling deeply.
"So fucking wet for me already." He growls, his fingers slipping lower and pressing into me. My head falls back as he crooks his fingers and hits the right spots, thumb teasing my clit. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. I've seen how he handles his crossbow, clearly, he has some talented hands. Sliding my hand up, I tangle my fingers back in his hair and tug as I meet his gaze. I realize I am in a vulnerable state, which under normal circumstances I would never allow. My body responds to Daryl's commanding fingers as he moves them, quickening their pace. I want to look away, hide, but I can't not when he has me so close to the edge.
"Cum for me." He commands, the brat in me wants to defy, but his lips meet mine in a bruising kiss. With one hand buried in his hair and the other gripping a mound of flesh on his back, I fell apart. My legs tremble and my lips moan Daryl's name as I ride the wave of pleasure.
"Good girl." He whispers against my lips before pulling back looking at me and settling back on his haunches. I watch as he brings his hand up, licking his fingers. My knees fall open, exposing myself to him. Giving him a full view of my needy cunt. Him calling me a "good girl" has me on the verge of whimpering for him.
I almost blush when he leans down and kisses my thighs, then my paunch. He brings one hand down, stroking his cock as the other hand rests beside my head after catching him and holding his weight. The press of his cock as he pushes into me, forcing the tight walls of my cunt to accommodate him. His lips find my throat as my head tips back in pleasure.
Hands run up his back, over the scars that rest there. My head falls back when he finally buries his cock inside me, stretching my walls and filling me to the brim. His hips grind down against mine, forcing me to accommodate him. His lips find my throat as his name falls from mine, one hand still beside my head and the other coming to grip the back of my thigh.
"Fuck, darlin'..." He moans against my skin, keeping his nose buried in the crook of my neck.
"That's the point." I chuckle and turn my head to bury my nose against the side of his head.
His thrusts start long and slow, letting me feel every inch as his lips trail up my neck, nipping soft skin. The way he moves his hips is almost sinful. Yeah, color me surprised. Doesn't really seem like the type to have a rhythm, but damn. It's been a while since I've had anything but wild, erratic sex that ended with Toby cumming, falling off me, and going to sleep. This was different. His hand on the back of my thigh gives a rough squeeze, fingers digging into my skin a bit.
I may regret this in the morning, but all my brain cares about at this moment is fucking away the bad feelings, fucking away the sorrow, and forgetting for one night that we're literally living through the end of the world. That life will never go back to how it was, not how it should be. When Daryl claims my lips once more, this time it's slower but just as fervent. All my brain can focus on his tongue sliding over mine and the way every inch of his cock fills me to the brim.
As my body jolts, nails dig into his back and leave marks in their wake. My hips rock up, planting my heels on the edge of the bed and silently, but greedily demanding more. He chuckles against my lips, breaking the kiss and pulling back. His blue eyes filled with mischief as I felt him roll us over, forcing me to plant my knees on either side of his hips.
My mismatched gaze casts down, loose hairs from my ponytail framing my face. His hands find my thighs and grip tight, sure there will be evidence of it in the morning. The way he greedily grabs mounds of my flesh, I am sober enough to realize it's not to hurt me. Toby would grab me and bruise me for the fun of it, most of the time out of malice to see how much pain he could cause me. Fucking sadist. Daryl though, when he grabs me it's almost like he is pulling me towards him, wanting to hang on to me. But I could also chalk this up to romanticizing a one-night stand.
My head falls back as I rock my hips, lifting them slowly and bringing them back down. I can feel his fingers slide up my thighs and over the curve of my hip. I don't want to open my eyes, because I know if I meet his gaze I will feel like he's looking through me. Just like that night at camp. As if he can see the jagged pieces of me. The ones I keep buried inside and never allow to see the light of day because those are the parts of me that can give someone the ability to hurt me. I try to fight it, but I am almost damn sure I hear him mutter "beautiful." I swallow thickly, shaking my head as I roll my hips, giving him a view of just how his cock fills me up.
With a growl of my name, I feel the pace change, hips bucking up into mine. Strong arms wrap around me, holding me in place, hips grinding down. Keeping one arm around me, his other slides up and tangles in my hair, yanking my head back. The whine that escapes me is needy, almost begging, even if I would never verbally beg for him. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn't even be in this situation. My eyes close and I let him guide me for a moment as he catches one of my nipples between his lips and rakes his teeth over sensitive skin.
"Make it hurt," I murmur, cupping his cheeks when he tips his chin to look up at me. Almost a silent plea to make me feel something other than the doubts and self-loathing right now. Other than the fear of not knowing what's to come.
Shifting, he presses my back to the bed once more and places his hands on either side of my head, looking down at me. Oh, his eyes are a deep blue. Random thought before he kisses me. His thrusts are powerful as he obliges me, jolting my body under him. I can hear my name fall from his lips as he leans forward, framing my head with his forearms and pressing his forehead against mine.
I savor the feeling of warm skin. His thrusts are unrelenting and I admit, I'll ache tomorrow. The stretch of my walls and the way he fucks me has me putty in his hands. I realize this, but don't care as I feel myself nearing an orgasm. My lips brush his when he warns me he's close, my hand resting on his back and fingers in his hair.
"It's okay," I whine, my walls tightening around him and urging his release. I need to feel the warmth of his release and I almost want to beg, but hold back. That shocks me. I'm fully exposed and if he looks hard enough, he'll see that. At least I know he isn't good with words, so no fear of being called on it.
Lips meet in a rough kiss as we find our releases, lips nipping, and moans falling. Our hips rock in sync as we ride the waves of pleasure. When the kiss breaks, Daryl buries his face in the crook of my neck. Fingers gently trail over the marks left by my nails on his back as I close my eyes. The sudden urge to let tears fall rises in my throat. At this moment I'm just me, perhaps this is me sobering up. Of course, I'll never admit to it. We stay connected, pressed together for a moment before Daryl slips away, causing me to whine at the loss of contact.
"I'm not moving," I murmur and settle against the pillows and blankets.
"Did I ask you too?" He looks at me and tucks one arm behind his head.
"Just saying." I chuckle faintly.
"Just don't stab me in my sleep, save that for the morning." He jokes.
"Noted." I laugh.
"Get some sleep, woman." Daryl grins, both of us still riding on the buzz from earlier.
I hum at him, nodding as I settle in, pulling the blankets up, and sighing as I close my eyes. Deep down, I will admit, I feel safe. Which is something I haven't felt in a long time. I may regret it in the morning, but for tonight, I'm going to enjoy the feeling, especially the feeling of Daryl's fingers brushing my side as he gets comfortable for the night.