AN: For now, this one is coming to an end. There is a slight chance I might add to it later, but I have far too many WIP's to add this one to the list, so I hope this feels complete for you all. I would love to hear what you think, and I thank you now for all your never ending support. I am sincerely grateful that anyone reads my work and those that review and let me know what you think are brave souls indeed!
Part Four
Hershel told Daryl to keep his hands wrapped for a week. It was the longest week of his damn life. He'd expended more energy marching around his tent and back and forth to the woods than he'd ever done in his life, all because he couldn't do a damn thing he wanted to. With his hands all bandaged up as tight as a mummy's ass, Daryl was basically confined to his camp. It was fucking hard to do any amount of shit when his fingers were held hostage to a soft, pudgy roll of cloth. He was so close to tearing it all off and saying to hell with it, but just as he was always about to, Carol would appear as if by magic messenger with fresh clothes, or hot food, and the pleasure of her feeding him by hand was too great to surrender just yet.
The days blurred with so little to do. He was mostly alone, either pacing around his camp with the image of Maggie and Glenn fucking each other burned into his brain, or lying in his tent, eyes closed, reimagining the scene but with his own and Carol's faces to take the weirdness out of it. His head was all over the shop about what had happened, his body still tormenting him with sense memory it was refusing to let him forget, and Daryl growled in frustration. Curling his fists, he punched the ground with about as much ferocity capable of a teddy bear, then whimpered as he remembered the vivid memory of how it felt to have her lips dancing over his. He was so screwed, every single part of his body craving her now like a rash desperate for salve.
With near a week to kill, he had some groundwork to lay, he decided. He'd been avoiding Carol and he could see she was starting to suspect he was pulling away—and while the urge was there, his flesh was weak, in more ways than one. He didn't like the haunted way she was watching him when she screwed up her courage enough to make the trip across the field to bring him things, but on the fourth day when he grumped about moodily, she seemed to shrink away from him even further. He couldn't blame her—he'd been in a shitty mood ever since they returned with the berries, left with super padding and an aching dick he couldn't even touch.
On the fourth night, she didn't come. Instead, Glenn jogged up, carrying a plate with his dinner on it and a flask of water.
"Hey," he greeted, stumbling to a stop at Daryl's less than welcoming glare. "Um, Carol asked me to bring this up. She's busy with Lori doing something." The young man shrugged, grinning nervously as if he suddenly realised he'd been placed as interference for the couple and he wasn't going to like it.
He attempted to pass the plate to Daryl but realised the futility of that when Daryl thrust his puffed up hands in Glenn's face, grumbling all the while about stupid fucking people thinking he needed to be babied and were just screwing with his head when he'd be just fine without all the layers of bandages they'd wound around his hands.
Glenn put the plate by Daryl's fire and slowly backed away, belatedly realising he was treating Daryl like a scary animal but not so sure he was completely in the wrong there.
"Hey, how you think I'm gonna be eatin' that? Ain't got no hands, jackass." The growling irritation in his voice had Glenn jumping comically in the air, seizing the plate back up and jabbing at the meat with the provided fork. He held it out to Daryl and the tremors in his hand was barely visible, but Daryl noticed and smirked as he consumed the first mouthful. "Chicken?" he mused as he chewed the food, and thought it might be the best tasting thing he'd ever eaten.
"Yeah, Carol cooked it. Hershel's got a few he can spare now he's not feeding the walkers in the barn." Glenn's face rippled, like he'd been about to laugh but then remembered the tragedy of that day they'd learned the truth of Sophia and let it slide away.
They sat in silence as Daryl ate, the fire crackling before them, its orange light keeping the moment from being completely dull, and while Glenn automatically kept refilling the fork and did the trip from plate to Daryl's mouth, the hunter steamed about the indignity of it. Having to be fed like a baby because his inaction had driven Carol away. Had driven that woman as far away as she could get. He needed to do something to reassure her he hadn't forgotten—that he hadn't wimped out. That he wasn't running like the little pussy bitch Merle had always thought he was. He was going to stand on his own two feet and act like a real man, he just had another day or two to live through first.
"You do me a favour?" He squinted in the fire's half-light, side-eyeing Glenn to see his response, then continued at his hesitant nod. "You ask Carol somethin' for me?"
"Sure thing." The food was gone, Glenn was displaying itchy feet ready to travel back to the group, or to a secret rendezvous that Daryl didn't want to know about, and yet the urge to do something that might shock Carol, might establish a burning tinge to her own cheeks for a change was strong.
"Can you ask Carol which she prefers? Inside…or out." He shook on the inside, wondering if Glenn would get it, work out what he was referring to and start making fun of him but to his relief the confusion was strong, Glenn's brows deeply furrowed.
"Um, sure. I'll let you know her answer in the morning."
Daryl nodded, then ignored Glenn completely as he turned a contemplative gaze onto the fire. Glenn stood awkwardly for a second, about to open his mouth to ask for clarification about the message when Daryl turned on him, barking out, "You got lead in your pants or somethin', boy? Get on with ya." And Glenn ran.
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Carol was almost done with washing the dishes when Glenn skidding to a stop and handed her Daryl's plate.
"How'd it go?" she asked, curious at how Daryl would handle being fed by someone that wasn't her and feeling a little guilty for putting him in that position in the first place. She knew he'd be embarrassed that someone would have to feed him but her concern for him had paled into comparison with the embarrassment she kept feeling at how thoroughly exposed she felt toward him.
"Peachy." Glenn grinned, eyeing her in that deep, contemplative way that made Glenn's subjects chuckle at how inept he was at being subtle about it. "He wanted me to ask you something."
Carol arched a brow, somehow surprised that Daryl had mentioned her at all with how much he'd been avoiding her since their tryst in the woods. Intrigued and a little excited, Carol drew her hands from the water and dried them on the tea towel and waited. "What did Daryl want you to ask me?"
"I have no idea what this means, but he wanted to know: Which do you prefer? Inside or out?" Glenn waited there expectantly while Carol's face exploded with the brightest colour she thought she had in her repertoire.
Naughty, sexy images of Glenn and Maggie flitted in fractured segments through her mind and Carol had to drop her shocked eyes to the ground, her breath coming at her so quickly she felt like she might pass out. Damn Daryl. Was he trying to humiliate her, or did he really want to know? The only way to find out for sure would be to march her way up to his tent and demand he tell her what game he was playing, only just thinking that and Carol knew that Daryl didn't play games. Daryl was as straight as a person got, and so the burning of her face seemed to be a standard that the rest of her body was in a race to reach as her blood became fire in her veins.
"I…I think…inside." She gave the answer then spun away, darting off to the RV and shutting the door, blocking out any attempt of Glenn's to get clarification on the true meaning behind the question. There was no way she could keep her composure during even the smallest interrogation and so here she stood, locked inside the RV with her limbs quivering with instant lust and the remembered reality of how much she'd already experienced with Daryl.
Inside. She'd told him inside, like a coward, like a repressed suburban housewife, and then she panicked because Daryl was a man at home in the woods. He was a hunter, his hands and body showed the truth of a rugged man more at home in the open then he was behind closed doors. What if her answer disappointed him? What if it turned him off after what they'd seen? After the act they'd witnessed stirred a longing for each other in their blood.
Convinced she'd blown it, Carol went to bed and shivered with repressed lust.
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The next morning was grey. Clouds were gathering together fast and Carol quickly gathered up some breakfast for Daryl, threw an apology at Lori for indulging Daryl's avoidance of the group once again, and started a quick walk up to his tent.
An ability to shrug off her worries was the only thing that fuelled her steps this morning. Carol refused to let herself get down if she'd revealed herself as the prude she truly knew she was. If she'd never been able to stomach the thought of outdoor sex with her own husband during a time in the world's history where they hadn't had to worry about being snacked on by walkers, then she certainly wasn't about to change now when caution was even more imperative. Besides, she didn't relish the thought of bark burn on her back, or being stung in interesting places by bees or other insects. She didn't need anything kinky to make her blood pressure rise—apparently all she needed was the ever-present sign of Daryl's fire and the man himself.
He was outside his tent and straight away she could tell he'd showered. His hair was wet, despite the sky still remaining dry, his clothes changed and his hands were bare. He stared across the expanse of the field at her, just quietly waiting. Not jogging out to meet her, taking his food and sparing her the extra part of the trip. He stood patiently, periodically staring at the ground then peering bashfully back up at her through his bangs. His shy act tugged at her heart and it thudded faster in excited recognition that something was afoot.
When she was closer, she noticed that he was standing oddly, one arm thrust up behind his back and when she was within arm's reach he whipped it back around, brandishing a bursting bouquet of Cherokee roses.
All her questions died in her throat. The answers were now in her hands, one or two tiny thorns digging into her fingers but she didn't even care—barely even felt it.
"You stayin'?" His attempt at romance was truly something, Carol swaying giddily at the thought. If he was this matter-of-fact about something so totally unexpected, she was almost wild with wondering how the rest might go.
"I brought you breakfast," she replied unnecessarily, smirking at how awkward this meeting seemed.
The waft of rapidly cooling scrambled eggs drifted to his nose and Daryl seized the plate, shovelling the food down in record time before he tossed the metal plate across to the fire. He faced her again when he'd finished, his arms crossed and hands tucked under them, rocking slowly as he contemplated her, all shyness evaporating so fast it left Carol's head spinning. He resembled a caged cat, ready to pounce but waiting to see if the supplied meat was exactly in the right place to be caught. She felt light-headed, electrified with the punch of a simmering lust that whipped up out of control without even the benefit of the first touch.
"You stayin'?" he repeated, but this time he sounded less sure of himself. Carol nodded, fairly sure her throat had closed up and words wouldn't be possible. She wasn't even sure she could hear anything else as building desire buzzed through her veins.
Thunder cracked in the sky with a sudden boom that made her jump and left her shaking, and in that instant Daryl hooked his hand around her waist and jerked her hard toward him, her body slamming up against his with a suddenness that knocked her breath from her lungs.
His mouth was on hers a second before the rain started, but before she could squeal and pull away, Daryl had her inside the tent, his lips not pulling away for even a second. His eyes reflected the wild storm gathering outside and Carol didn't even care if his tent could survive the howling winds that had whipped up out of nowhere. All she knew was that Daryl's mouth was warm, wet and tasted like scrambled eggs, and she wanted more of it.
The quiet inside the tent was reassuring, allowing her to focus entirely on the kiss. Teasing licks and bites on her lips drove her wild, and Carol dived enthusiastically into relearning how all of this worked. She had no recollection how it was done, but she straddled his pelvis, hard, thick heat scorching suggestion between her legs. She couldn't keep her hands from him, frantically unbuttoning his shirt and drawing the edges back so she could revel in his skin. Pulling back from the kiss more than a little breathless, Carol didn't even care about refilling her lungs before she ducked her head and tasted his flesh. Her fingertips traced the name over his heart while her tongue and teeth played with his nipple, the heat drawing up inside her until her need almost became painful. His hand in her hair drew her up and back to his mouth and the passion exploded between them in synch with the flood of flashing light in the tent and the scorch of distant burning earth filling the air. The frenzy of nature matched theirs, clothes going flying as they climbed toward one goal, fulfilling each other.
On quivering knees, Carol was suspended over his erection, hands splayed across his chest. His lips were swollen, his eyes dark and dirty and his active hands finding and teasing every part of her he could reach. His gaze slipped down her body, focusing on the perfect teardrops of her pert breasts, his thumbs reverently stroking across the already protruding buds and then they both sucked in a laboured breath.
"You're stayin'," he breathed out in awe, like he hardly believed it, and Carol cupped her hand around one of his as he formed the shape of her breast and squeezed gently. A heavy ball of warmth swirled low in her belly, lower dripping into her core until she just couldn't stand the pain of wanting to feel him inside her.
"I'm not going anywhere, Daryl." It was a breathless commitment as he helped her lower herself onto him, her body finding him slowly and then expanding and swallowing him whole. His length surged into her deliberately, without hurry, without any motivation at all but to drive them both crazy. She slid up, feeling the pressure drag, release, then sucked him in again. The pleasure was exquisite, and she released its knowledge with a sob. He pinched her nipples and tugged on them right as she swirled her hips and lifted, falling again with the patience of the saint she certainly wasn't, and gave into the repetitive whimpering pitched from her without consultation of approval. His grunts spurred her on: swivel, lift, descend.
She trembled harder when Daryl ran his nails up her sides, tracing her curves, squeezing her hips to pull her into him harder, firmer, his own upward thrusts becoming more energetic the longer she drew this out. The burning in her womb built up gradually, adding on each level of intensity until she didn't know anymore where she ended and he began, but as her limbs grew weak, all her strength being drawn to support the orgasm that was so close, she became lost in his eyes, finding in them a simple truth she'd never known before. Not with anyone. His eyes promised her that while everything might not always be all right, they would be. This thing, growing in strength and importance between them was now set in stone and if nothing else, Carol could have confidence in that. She could have belief in him.
They came together, his hips jerking up into her without warning, splashing her walls with his semen as Carol crested equally emotional and physical waves of release. Sweat clung to their skin and she felt electrified, her body tingling everywhere, felt more of anything than she had her entire life. He was panting, still staring at her with wonder in his eyes, and Carol took his hand and held it against her lips, kissing his recovering wounds while she tried to tell him how she felt with nothing more than a look and the touch of her mouth.
She smiled, knowing he understood. "I'm not going anywhere."