Good morning (Or...afternoon, I guess!). Decided to get a tattoo and my friend was like "If you can wait ten days, I'll take you and we'll get mine too and I'll pay for yours since it's your birthday!" I'm so excited!

Anywho, onward.

Daryl stared out the glass of the guard tower, feet propped up on the ledge of the window in front of him, arms crossed behind his head, rifle leaned against the wrap around desktop. He was bored. Bored as hell. No sooner had this thought left his mind that the door behind him opened and he spun the chair around and grabbed his buck knife from it's sheath at the same time, going into automatic defense mode.

"Whoa, there, Crocodile Dundee," Michonne's amused tone made him calm down almost immediately and he resheathed the knife with a sigh.

"What d'ya want?" he asked, not unfriendly, just asking.

Michonne didn't answer right away, she just stood there in the doorway with her hip popped in that way that made him crazy and stared right back at him, her dark eyes locked on his and Daryl felt like he was being sized up. Then she was walking towards him, covering the short distance in three confident steps, and she stood right in front of him, his eyes at the level of her belly. He tilted his head back to look up at her, she looked down at him with a wicked smile on her face before she leaned down and wrapped her hands around his wrists, pinning them to the arms of the chair. Icy cold fear shot up Daryl's spine and he tried his best to yank himself out of her grip but she held him fast, staring into his eyes as she got on her knees to come down to eye level.

"You really want to know what I want?" she whispered, Daryl's eyes flicked down to her lips and he watched them move with curiosity, wondering what it would be like to kiss a black woman...he'd never even considered it before.

"Yeah," he meant to sound normal but it came out in a whisper as he looked back into her eyes. Beautiful dark eyes...

"How about I show you instead?" Michonne leaned forward to whisper these words in his ear and he felt goosebumps rise on his skin...and another significant "raise" elsewhere as well. Michonne's eyes dropped down and then back to his. "I'll take that as a yes."

Daryl brain started to freak out as she slid her hands from his wrists and unhesitantly brought them to the front of his jeans, immediately undoing his belt and slipping it off to the floor. He gulped as her fingers popped the button of his jeans and he started to hyperventilate when she unzipped them.

"What are you...?"

"I think you know exactly what I'm doing," Michonne cut him off, her eyes daring him to even try to stop her. Hell...why would he want to?

Daryl leaned his head back with a hiss when her right hand slipped into his jeans and gripped him firmly, almost too firmly but he wasn't about to tell her so. He couldn't even think straight, but he managed to lift his head and look down at her as she pulled him out, and found she was already looking up at him with a cocky grin.

"Not so bad for a white guy," she said, giving him a squeeze to emphasize her word.

"Shiiiit," Daryl sighed as the jolt of long forgotten pleasure ran through every nerve ending he possessed. It had been WAY too long, but in this day and age you learned to supress things like emotions and sexual tension.

But she wasn't giving him any chance to think about how wrong it was to take his focus off his job as watchman, or even how wrong this was in general, as she slid her tongue down the length of him and nipped lightly each time he hardened a little more. Before he could even fully comprehend that bolt of endorphins, she had wrapped her lips around him and ducked her head to take every last inch of him in her mouth.

"Fuck!" he gasped breathlessly as he clutch the arms of the chair just out of the need to hold onto something. He felt her smile, which was something he'd never felt before, girls didn't smile when they did this, not in his experience. But Michonne was looking up at him with hungry eyes as she twirled her tongue around him and it was driving him crazy so he leaned his head back again and closed his eyes tight as he felt that familiar pressure building, letting out a loud groan as she started bobbing her head faster, working him into a near frenzy.

Daryl felt every muscle in his body go tense and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer, but he didn't fuckin' care because he damn well needed this. His breathing turned into frantic panting and he felt his jaw go slack as he stared up at the cieling of the guard tower, he could feel that wave of awesome relief about to crash into him when...

Daryl's eyes jerked open. He couldn't focus for a second and he blinked furiously in the darkness and then it suddenly hit him...dreaming. He'd just had a fucking wet dream about Michonne! That thought made him panic and look down, he sighed with relief when he realized he hadn't quite finished that dream, he was hard as stone inside his cargos.

"Damn it..." he muttered, running a hand over his face, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He rolled off the bottom bunk and grabbed his crossbow off the top and headed down to the showers to take care of this sudden problem.

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Maybe it was her imagination, but Michonne thought there was something different in the way Daryl was acting around her. He kept looking over at her out of the corner of his eye during breakfast and then dropping his gaze almost looking guilty, he had kept a space of about ten feet between them all day as they patrolled the edge of the woods together, and when they took down the walker they saw he had hacked it nearly to pieces with the hatchet he'd slung on his hip that morning. Something about him was just...off.

"Hey, are you ok?" she finally broke the silence between them and he looked at her in surprise, and then dropped his eyes to the ground and scuffed the dirt with his right boot heel.

"I'm fine," he murmered, clearly not wanting to talk.

"You don't act fine," Michonne pressed, "You just hacked that walker into canned dog food. You seem...stressed."

"Yeah, well then just be glad it was the walker I got to first," he growled, the threat only made Michonne more concerned.

Why exactly am I concerned?

Because you like him.

Shit! What? I do not!

Yes you do. You haven't been able to keep your eyes off him since you got here.

Well, I'm curious about him, yes. But I'n not attracted to Daryl Dixon! He's a racist hillbilly with no manners and a horrible temper.

You always did have a thing for the bad boys...

No, no way.

Come on, Michonne, look at him. That tight ass in those worm out cargo pants he always wears, that choppy, soft as hell hair that you KNOW you loved running your hands through, that crooked smile he rarely lets show, and those eyes...damn, those eyes could make any woman drop their panties.

Michonne growled at herself out loud and Daryl looked at her with his eyebrows bunched together ina questioning way.

"What?" he asked.

"None of your business!" Michonne snapped angrily, she felt bad for it immediately because of the kicked puppy look her got in his eyes.

"Alright, whatever," he muttered, wiping the hatchet off with the rag he always had hanging from his back pocket.

"No, not whatever," Michonne wasn't letting this go so easy. "What's bothering you?"

Daryl sighed and looked over at her, looking almost like he had something to say but then he just shook his head and took his crowbow off his back.

"I'm gonna go hunt for a bit," he stated, shutting the conversation down, "Ya alright to get back by yerself?"

Michonne just cocked an eyebrow at him, with a look that said 'You're kidding, right?' and he nodded with a little twitchy smile at the corner of his mouth before he slipped into the trees. Michonne shook her head and began her walk back to the gates, wondering what was bother their little redneck now.

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So, this whole chapter came from a dream I had last night. But now I must get ready for class so I will try to have more up later! When I get back home at 11 tonight, I hope to see feedback! :D