Enjoy!
Her husband is driving her fucking crazy.
Yet, she can't even be mad at him. Who can say that they met Daryl Dixon and he was a playful, smiley man? No one. No one but her. He brought her home a bag of candy canes what she thinks was around three weeks ago and since then, he's done nothing but tease the ever living shit out of her.
Honestly, she's not sure how much she can take trying to guess the mysterious 'dirty' things he wants to do with her that include candy canes. The thoughts alone are driving her around the bend, especially with the memories of that broken lollipop she twirled through the thick runner of cum on her cheek and sucked clean.
If the thoughts weren't enough to soak her panties, this sudden, playful version of her husband would do it all on its own. She knows her husband well, better than anyone in the world, this she can say on her own life and it's not like she buys into the same façade everyone else does: that he's a dirty, red neck hillbilly who's good for nothing.
But the fact of the matter is: she does know him well and the most playful she's ever really gotten him is in the comfort of their own bed, where it's just them. He's such a serious guy and she loves him completely but it's so damn fun to see this sudden flirtation bloom out of him like a new flower.
He's usually all "I'll die for you" and "you an' Daryl Junior'll always be safe while my hearts beatin'" and it's amazing to hear these things, the promises she cherishes with her heart for the day when she is alone because no one's pretending here: getting old doesn't happen anymore. So yes, she cherishes them, but they're such serious, determined statements.
To see this sudden smiley side is so goddamn contagious and it's doing nothing but getting her hot and bothered. In summary, she's getting a little caught up in the flirting. She hasn't felt like a teenager for longer than she can remember and it's a little startling to realise that she's probably only around twenty or twenty one now even though she feels so much older.
She never had a chance to spread her wings and explore the very short years she was given to be young and free. Not that she's too bothered because if she could rewind time and be offered the walkers and her family versus her old life, she knows deep in her heart which one she would take.
Guilt always clouds this decision which is why she doesn't say it aloud because how many people died before she got this little family she loves so much? Her mama, Shawn, Otis, Patricia, Jimmy, her daddy... the list is endless and it always will be. It's because of the fact that the list is endless; because of the world that they live in that Beth lets herself enjoy this.
Even though Daryl's driving her batshit crazy with want; even though his husky voice whenever he catches her eyeing the candy canes has her rubbing her legs together and even though he keeps making her nipples twist painfully hard every time he looks at her, Beth knows she doesn't really mean it when she scowls or rolls her eyes.
She's enjoying herself far too much to put on a good act and her husband knows her just as well as she knows him, which means he can read her like a book. She thinks maybe that's why their relationship is only getting better.
That the more he understands her; the more he allows her into his heart, the less he hesitates and panics about fucking up. She's so caught up in this game of flirtation and coy smiles they're playing, that she's dived head first into giggly teenager meeting her crush for a first date and enlisted the help of some girlfriends.
Not all the houses in the zone were filled with people when they got here and still aren't, leaving many closets unclaimed. Rosita and Sasha had scoured for her so she didn't have to leave Daryl Junior. He's still so tiny, even if he is nearly six months old and she feels a lurch in her stomach being without him.
She's only managed to do it once before: when Maggie come in from a run a little battered and Daryl Jr. wouldn't settle enough for her to take him. She was gone less than an hour, but she could barely focus. Sasha and Rosita took pity on her inability to part from her child and did the hunting for her, managing to find three pieces in total.
When she saw them however, she didn't even have to debate between the choices. Discarding the other two, she fingered at the bra and pantie set they had found. It was snow white. Not the off-white or yellow kind of 'white' that you find now, but real white, like her bedsheets on the farm.
Where it cups her breasts, it has two separate straps each side. One hooked over her shoulders like any other bra, but the other one connected from in between her cleavage, running parallel to each other and hooking over her neck around to the back of the bra, giving a lift to her breasts that are admittedly, beginning to sag a little.
They had ballooned so much when she was pregnant that the come down was quite drastic, leaving her with loose skin she could pinch between her fingers. It still makes her cringe when she sees it even though Daryl couldn't care less. Sometimes a woman's body is just for them and their husband's and any other opinion is invalid.
Plus, her breasts have always been an insecurity for Beth. So when they got bigger she thought she would have been happy, except she didn't like the way they sat on her small body. They got bigger before her belly did too, so it all looked a little disproportionate.
By the time she was in proportion, she was nearly full term and on a long stretch of road in the blasting heat, reeling from the loss of her daddy. Now as she looks in the mirror in the corner of hers and Daryl's room, she runs her fingers over the soft, raised lumps of her breasts and hums as the fabric massages her nipples.
She can see them she realises, through the mesh of the bra and it makes her throat tighten, watching them grow hard and tight, the soft pink so contrasting against the white. She can't fully grasp how white the set is. Forget the extravagant sexiness of it, she's absolutely mesmerised by the colour.
She wishes she had honey gold skin to really set it off, but her milk bottle flesh is all she's got to work with. She's distracted by the panties after that, which have a thick, sexy band that sits high on her hips. This, she likes a lot because it hides the aggressive red stretch marks.
Beth loves her son more than she can comprehend and when she was pregnant she couldn't give a shit about the angry tearing of her skin, so enraptured with the life growing inside her. Now she stands here looking at her stomach and in the back of her mind she remembers how young she really is and she can't quite pair the two together: her age with her skin.
It's a silly thing to be so insecure about, but she doesn't want Daryl to look at her one day and decide she's disgusting. She can't imagine he ever really would and she knows it's irrational, but it pounds in her head like a drum beat when she's naked and it's something she fights whenever her clothes come off.
Perhaps if her husband was a complete asshole she would never get naked again, but the look in his eye when he sees her bare makes her feel like a goddess. The blatant sexual hunger when he looks at her… looks at the stretch marks, like it turns him on beyond rationality…. God, she's getting herself worked up.
Her eyes flick to the bedroom door, listening out for the front one. He's due home soon and she's getting so lost in her body in this lingerie that she's not going to get in position quick enough. Daryl said it was nearly Christmas and it's been weeks since then.
It's not like they truly know but Beth's going out on a limb and pretending its Christmas Eve. He and Rick brought a tree home for them last week so why not? In the spirit of Christmas, she wants to exchange gifts. Her wrapped up in this flimsy, see-through underwear for her husband and Daryl finally telling her his plans with the candy canes.
She pulls a little at the set, trying to make herself comfortable before she walks away from her mirror image. It's a little too tight because its previous owner must have been a size goddamn zero, but she'll make allowances for it. It's not like she could find something that actually fits her in this day and age.
Besides, she would rather have something a little too small that makes her breasts strain in the bra than something too big that would hang off her like elephant skin. Clearing her throat, Beth runs her hand over the band across her stomach.
It's thin and flimsy, lying across her belly button and she's not really sure what it's there for, but it seems to hold the panties up on her hips, snapping tight over her stomach. She already feels the bite of it and she knows she's going to pay for this sexy little piece later in vicious red marks.
She stops running her hands over her flesh, too sensitive to any kind of touch to not react to it. It's not like they haven't had sex in forever. They have sex as often as they can, which is quite a lot considering their limitations and it never gets boring, which is something she is truthfully waiting to happen.
Doesn't it happen to every married couple? But actually having sex is not the point. It's the sex itself. All the time its quick, half-conscious fucking and they pass out nearly two minutes after. Daryl junior usually cries or she's exhausted and the orgasm destroys her.
Her poor husband is practically getting a sex doll and she's so eager to impress him today that her clit is already pounding with excitement. Just as she turns away from the mirror, satisfied with the underwear, even if it is a little on the tight side, the baby starts crying and she curses under her breath.
Has she been fussing over herself for so long that he's already due his next feed? She glances towards the bedroom door which is propped open, allowing her sons wailing to flood through. It twists her heart to hear him cry and not all of it is guilt for his trembling sobs.
It's fear, that somewhere out there, a walker can hear him and releases a hungry moan. Beth shudders and grabs Daryl's big denim jacket from over the dressing table, sliding her arms into the leather sleeves so she's covered as she runs past the window. Even as she hurries on bare feet to her crying child, she smiles into the denim fabric.
It's huge on her and smells so much like her husband she could be wrapped up in his hug. It's also the same one he wore for the majority of the time they were on the road to Alexandria and it holds so many memories in its fibres. The sun is setting and so her sons recently painted room is washed in a soft orange glow.
He was in hers and Daryl's room for a couple months but now he sleeps in here. Beth doesn't particularly like it but the baby likes it in here. When it was empty she would walk around on his early morning feed and he would always fall silent when they entered.
She has no idea what it is he likes so much about this room, but he settles so well in here and she wants her baby to be happy. If that means getting out of bed to check on him every ten minutes? So be it. Daryl thinks she's overprotective but he doesn't understand what it feels like.
To go from protecting this tiny precious thing in your body to bringing them into the world? Even without walkers, Beth's pretty sure she would have heart palpitations for the rest of her days. With walkers? How can she even look away from him? And who is she kidding? Walkers aren't even half the problem anymore.
She shudders and scoops her baby up a little eagerly out of his crib. His soft, warm weight settles into her as she parts his daddies' jacket to press him to her belly, hushing him under her breath.
"Hey there, baby. You hungry?"
He gives a wobbly little cry and her heart twists seeing his wet little cheeks. She wipes his face down with Daryl's sleeve and turns down the flimsy cup of her bra, guiding him to her nipple. His mouth opens eagerly and hungrily quests for his milk, latching on easily and gently sucking.
Beth hums over him as she paces around his room, looking out the window at the descending sun and darkening sky. She knows he'll fall asleep ten minutes into eating but he won't let her put him back down for another five after that, so she exits his room and walks back to hers and Daryl's, trying to light candles one-handed.
It takes her longer than it really should with her son latched onto her nipple and she has to pause once to clean up the mess he's made on his face and her breast. As she's turning back to his room, feeling his mouth go slack as he finishes his milk, she represses a scream at the hulking figure in the doorway to her room, gripping her son tight to her chest.
"Daryl, you scared the crap outta me!"
But her husband isn't listening and she remembers quite suddenly all the plans she had. Except she looks around at the bedroom she didn't have time to tidy, feels the ache in her arm from her son's sleeping weight, the air on her nipple where he's unlatched from feeding and the tight fabric under the swell of her breast and rolls her eyes.
"I should'a known this wouldn't have worked," she mutters, resettling their son over her shoulder so she can start burping him.
"S'workin' for me," Daryl rumbles, his voice so low and hot Beth's stomach clenches.
She turns her head to the mirror and takes herself in with the aid of the burning candles. Her left breast is still out, her nipple hard from the cold and her other one is covered with the flimsy fabric. Daryl's jacket hangs open off her frame, revealing the panties high on her hips and the denim edge falling down low so only the peaks of her ass cheeks are showing.
Turning back to her husband, she licks her lips at the burning heat in his eyes. "I wanted to give you a present for Christmas."
He leans into the doorjamb with a raised eyebrow, a cocky little smirk on his face that takes her breath away because he's so damn sexy. "You burped 'im yet?"
Beth's a little thrown by the change in conversation but she shakes her head as she keeps rubbing her little boy's back over her shoulder. "Ain't brought it up yet."
"Burp 'im," he says as he steps closer, making her stomach summersault. He presses a kiss to their baby's head. "Then come find me back here."
He turns to leave and Beth's not even embarrassed by her high strung, breathy voice when she squeaks, "where you goin'?"
Daryl doesn't stop walking or turn back to her when he says, "to get the candy canes."