Hello again : ) First off, I just want to say thank you for the reviews to the first two chapters; you guys are sweet and the compliments really do mean a lot. I was so scared of posting the first chapter because…well…it's a tad racy lol but you guys seemed to have fun which is the reason we're all here! So thanks for the support! I guess if you can handle that, then you'll be up for any smut I might throw at you : ) Today, I'm excited to be posting another request! The lovely Whoneedsasword wanted to see Carol giving Daryl a haircut…minus Daryl's shirt. I'll leave it at that : ) Enjoy… ; ) NSFW!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead…but can you imagine? lol.
Chapter 3: Sharp
"C'mon…" Daryl muttered to himself as he watched the doe step out into a small clearing. His bow was raised and he was trying to line up a shot from his hiding place behind a nearby tree. He kept himself just out of sight and tried to slow his breathing. A muscle in his jaw twitched and his fingers were curling anxiously around the trigger. The doe lifted her head suddenly, as if she'd caught his scent. Her black nose quivered and her ears flicked back and forth. Daryl swore quietly before letting his teeth sink into his bottom lip. With his back pressed hard against the tree, he waited. The doe's wide, dark eyes scanned the surroundings, her tail twitching every so often.
The hunter's heart was beginning to pound within the confines of his chest…the way it always did before he made a kill. He exhaled slowly through his nostrils and gripped the bow tighter. He could hear dried leaves crunching softly beneath the doe's hooves and knew that she was leaving.
Dammitt…
He had no intention of letting his quarry go. Daryl had been in the woods since before dawn. It was close to noon now and the sun was glaring down at him. There were beads of sweat stinging his eyes and dripping from his temples. The doe was moving slowly, he knew he still had a chance.
She ain't runnin'….
Clenching his teeth, Daryl emerged suddenly from his hiding place, pivoting on his heel. In one swift motion, he raised the bow, squeezed the trigger, and sent an arrow flying through the stillness of the clearing. The bolt sliced through the air with a thwip sound, the bright green feathers catching the sunlight just before the damn thing lodged itself in the trunk of a large oak…. With his upper lip curling back in a snarl, the hunter threw his bow to the ground and listened to the doe's hoof beats as the startled animal took off into the woods. He kicked angrily at the forest floor, sending up a small cloud of dead leaves. "Sonofobitch!" he growled. His chest was heaving with each labored breath and his eyes were narrowed to mean slits. Daryl could feel rage coursing through his veins, and he wished he had an outlet for it. As he stood in the small clearing, growling and cussing, the hunter found himself hoping for a walker to stumble across his path. With his hands on his hips, he turned his head and spat. He was grateful for the privacy he had in the woods….glad that no one had witnessed his failure. Wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist, Daryl stalked in the direction of the oak, to retrieve his arrow. As his sweaty hand curled around the bolt, he realized just how badly he'd missed. He jerked the thing free and studied the small indentation in the bark.
Missed that deer by a damn mile…
The hunter glared at the tree. Daryl Dixon had never made a habit of missing his mark…and he damn sure didn't miss by this much. But in the safety and isolation of the woods, he could acknowledge the fact that this was becoming a problem. He'd missed a buck several days ago, and a rabbit that morning… The only reason he had anything to show for his hunt was that he'd set up snares.
Couple goddamn squirrels ain't gonna feed nobody….
He glanced down at the string of small rodents tied to his belt and frowned. He knew that the others would start to worry if he didn't head back, but Daryl hated the idea of walking through the gates with so little food. When he missed the buck, earlier in the week, he'd blamed the weather…it had been raining and he thought his finger must've slipped on the trigger. When he missed the rabbit, he figured it was just an off day, bad luck…but now, with the arrow clutched tightly in his hand, he was forced to accept the fact that the real cause of all his problems was his goddamn hair. He hadn't cut it since the world went to hell, and it was too long…always in his eyes…in his face. Merle had always taken care of that for him. Daryl ground his teeth in frustration. He couldn't even line up a shot anymore…not with sweat and hair in his eyes. It was difficult to stomach the realization that something so stupid was keeping him from getting his job done.
Shit stops here…
As he stood in the woods, trembling with anger, Daryl made a silent vow. He would fix this. He didn't care how, just as long as he got it done. He knew there were a few pairs of scissors back at the prison and he was going to find a way to cut his damn hair. The hunter could care less if he ended up looking like a jackass, all that mattered was being able to put food on the table. With his mind made up, he stooped to retrieve his bow. With a grunt, he slung the weapon onto his shoulder and began the long, bitter trek back through the forest.
"You're gettin' pretty good with that thing." said Rick as he stared down at Carol's work.
She smirked, glancing at him. "I'm learning." She returned her attention to the small rag in her hands. She ran it along the smooth barrel of her pistol. Eager to familiarize herself with different weapons, Carol had spent the better part of an hour taking the pistol apart, cleaning each of the components and then reassembling it. She was working at one of the small tables in the mess hall; Beth and Carl sat across from her, cleaning their own weapons.
Rick eyed Judith, bouncing the baby girl on his hip as he held her. They all heard Michonne hiss from a nearby table. Herschel was working to stitch a gash on her arm. With Glenn and Maggie on watch outside, the cellblock was relatively quiet. They were each occupied with their own tasks and seemed to enjoy the comfortable silence that had settled over them. It wasn't often that the survivors experienced any sort of peace, and spending a boring afternoon together was a welcome change. In the backs of their minds, each of them knew that the temporary calm was due, in part, to the fact that Daryl was hunting.
The deputy began walking from one end of the room to the other, speaking softly to his daughter and continuing to bounce her on his hip. After he'd crossed the room several times, he paused near Carol again and chuckled to himself.
She arched an eyebrow as she looked up at him. "What's funny?"
"Nothin'…just wonderin' how long this is gonna last." he said, brushing Judith's forehead with a kiss.
Carol set her pistol down on the table and eyed the deputy. "What?" she chuckled.
Rick shook his head slowly, a faint smile on his lips. "Peace 'n quiet."
Carol reached up to rub the back of her neck, her eyes going to the floor as she smiled. "What makes you think it's not gonna last?" she asked.
Rick shrugged, feigning ignorance. "Just got a feelin'."
It was Carol's turn to shake her head. She blew out a breath and resumed her cleaning. "He's not that bad." she said, smiling.
Beth and Carl chuckled.
"Quit." she chided, smirking at them.
The two young people tried to focus on their work but their lips were twitching as they fought to keep the smiles off their faces. They knew the angry redneck couldn't keep quiet to save his life. The group, as a whole, often wondered how someone so loud had ever learned to hunt in the first place. Just as the chuckling began to die down, a sharp sound caused them all to snap their heads up.
Daryl grunted as he pulled the heavy metal door open, causing it to squeak on its rusty hinges. After he stepped inside, he slammed the door shut behind him. The clang echoed throughout the mess hall and he saw the others staring at him. He acknowledged them with a slight nod and kept his head down as he stalked through the room. Tired, frustrated, and unprepared for any immediate interaction with his fellow group members, Daryl stomped up the metal stairs with purpose. His boots thumped all the way up to the perch where he finally threw his gear down and collapsed with a huff onto his bedroll.
The others had to bite the insides of their cheeks to keep from laughing. "Speak of the devil…" Carol mumbled under her breath, making the two young people chuckle.
Rick brought one hand up to rub his temple; he could already feel a headache forming. If Daryl's dramatic entrance was any indicator, the hunt hadn't gone well…and the deputy was not looking forward to dealing with a hunter who's mood would undoubtedly be sour.
"Off day?" Michonne asked as she waited patiently for Herschel to finish stitching her.
Rick turned to her, "Seems like he's been havin' a lot of those lately."
"I didn't see him carryin' anything." said Beth.
"Yeah," the deputy sighed. "Neither did I. Guess he just isn't comin' across much game lately."
Carol ran a hand through her hair and idly wondered what it was that had Daryl in a rut.
Rick cleared his throat, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Hm?" she asked, looking up at him.
"You mind checkin' on him?" the deputy asked.
She blinked, a crease forming in her brow. "Me?"
"He won't yell at you," Carl explained.
Carol's lips parted as she stared at the boy.
"He's right," added Beth. "He argues with Daddy, Michonne…Rick, Glenn…but I've never heard him yell at you."
Carol snorted, shaking her head. "I think you all are mistaken. That man…" she gestured up at the perch. "Has had it out with me on more than a few occasions. This 'immunity' that you seem to think I have…it doesn't exist."
"I've never see you fight…" said Carl.
Carol's brows knit together as she sat up straight, her arms folding tightly across her chest. "Excuse me? Back on the farm he…."
But the boy cut her off. "Yeah, back on the farm. I haven't seen him yell at you since then…"
Rick was smirking as he watched the exchange between Carol and his son.
Her lips parted but she didn't have a response. "Rick?" she said, looking to her leader for help.
The deputy answered with a shrug. "Sorry; I think he's right."
Carol was dumbfounded. She looked around the room…eyeing each of her fellow survivors. "I can't believe you…." she breathed.
The others simply averted their eyes and tried to keep from laughing.
"I'm just askin' you to check on him, that's all." said Rick. "We don't need him stewin' up there all day."
Carol gnawed her lower lip and placed her palms flat on the table. Pulling a calming breath into her lungs, she stood. When she turned to face Rick, he took a step back. She paused, looking around the room and pointing to each of them in turn. "If this blows up in my face…" she wanted to sound angry, threatening…but the way they were all trying so hard not to laugh…it was breaking her resolve. Sighing in defeat, she let her arms fall to her sides. "Fine…but next time, it's someone else's problem." She gave the deputy a long, hard look before heading towards the stairs.
"You got it." he said, nodding.
"Good," she called over her shoulder.
The others held their breath as they watched her go.
Daryl was lying on his back, his eyes closed. He had one fist balled at his side while his other arm was draped lazily across his forehead. He was breathing through his nose, trying to control his temper. He knew that if the others weren't nearby, he'd be tearing the damn perch apart…or at least kicking something. But he was trying to stay calm; an outburst would only attract unwanted attention. His numerous frustrations were only compounded by the fact that he was covered in dirt and sweat. It was making his skin itch. He propped himself up on his elbows and glanced down at his shirt. The thin fabric was stained, torn in places…flecked with dried blood…some of it was his, but he suspected most of it belonged to animals he'd caught.
Back when ya used to catch shit….
The bitter thought made him clench his teeth. Feeling useless, restless and filthy, he sat up and pulled the shirt over his head, mussing his sweaty hair. He flung the shirt away angrily and crawled in the direction of his ruck-sack, hoping that he had something cleaner to wear. He knew that Beth wouldn't be washing clothes until tomorrow. As he crouched over his meager pile of belongings, Daryl heard footsteps on the metal stairs. He stiffened at the sound, the hairs at the base of his neck standing up. The hunter valued his privacy above all else, and he cringed at the idea of someone seeing him in any state of undress. He was scrambling to find something to change into, but he froze when he heard the footsteps stop. Turning quickly, he saw Carol standing at the top of the steps. Cold fear pooled in his belly and he sat down, raising his knees, his arms draping across them. He was trying to make himself small…invisible. The hunter kept his head down.
Carol had muttered to herself all the way up the stairs. She had no idea what they expected her to accomplish. The way she saw it, Daryl was just as likely to yell at her as he was to argue with the rest of them. Granted, she didn't want the hunter to pull away and isolate himself…at least not any more than he already had. But she didn't think that she had the power to stop him. Her hand slid along the cool, metal railing as she climbed the steps. When she finally reached the landing, her breath caught in her throat. Daryl had his back to her; he was crouched in the far corner of the perch, looking through his bags. He turned the moment he heard her, but the glimpse she got of him left her speechless. His back was covered in sweat, dirt, and a network of scars. She hadn't gotten a good look, but it was enough to stop her in her tracks. The lines on his skin were deep, angry… Carol knew enough about scars to know that his were not the result of hunting accidents. Someone hurt him. From the looks of it….someone had made a habit of hurting him. The knowledge was difficult to accept and she suddenly felt guilty for invading his space.
Daryl could feel goose bumps rising on his arms as she stood on the landing. She hadn't said anything, but he knew she'd seen. In desperate need of a distraction…and privacy, Daryl growled at her. "What ya want?"
She swallowed hard, wishing she'd never set foot on the stairs. "I…I'm sorry…I didn't mean…." she sighed. The words weren't coming out right. With her eyes on her sneakers, Carol hugged herself. "I didn't mean to disturb you." she said.
The hunter took a moment to study her. He could see by the way she was standing that she was as uncomfortable as he was…if not more so. He knew that she meant what she'd said. She wasn't trying to pry. If anything, Daryl figured he should be grateful that she tolerated him…that somebody cared enough to check on him. His fuse had been running dangerously short lately and he released his tension by lashing out at anyone that crossed him, but Carol always seemed to give him the space he needed. He'd never say it out loud but he actually enjoyed her company. They'd grown accustomed to each other since the farm and Daryl found that she didn't try his patience quite as often as the others did. He supposed he shouldn't take his bad day out on her. Still feeling terribly exposed, the hunter grunted a response. "Ain't nothin'."
Surprised by his answer, Carol lifted her chin and stared at him. His arms were resting on his raised knees and his head was still bowed. Not knowing what else to say, Carol shifted from one foot to the other.
Say something….
But she didn't know how to move forward.
We need to get past this…we can't linger on it….
Clearing her throat, Carol stepped onto the perch and leaned back against the railing, her eyes roaming the hunter's small sanctuary. She noticed the string of squirrels that had been tossed on the floor. "I'm guessing things didn't go so well out there." she said softly.
Daryl sighed and brought one hand up to rub his tired eyes. "Shit day," he muttered.
"Game getting scarce?" she asked, genuinely curious.
The hunter ran a broad hand through his mussed hair and grunted. "Naw. They're out there." He chewed the corner of his lip and wondered how much he should tell her. "Saw a doe earlier."
Carol's arms were folded across her chest. "Yeah? What happened?"
Daryl brought his thumb to his mouth and began chewing the nail. "Missed the shot."
Carol couldn't believe that they were actually carrying on a conversation. Not that it was something new…but she didn't expect him to engage her when he was half-dressed. He'd been closed off since he'd come back from burying his brother, and she understood. They spoke occasionally…when they ended up on watch together…or while they ate. She felt that they were finally getting comfortable with one another again. They'd established a shaky friendship over the winter, and Daryl had slowly grown into his role in the group…but the devastation of losing Merle had taken a heavy toll on the hunter. He'd withdrawn into himself and it had taken the combined effort of everyone in the group to coax him back. Carol didn't want to pass up an opportunity to connect with him. She knew he was still uncomfortable with her seeing him shirtless, but she felt that she could ease some of the tension between them. With her arms still folded across her chest, Carol gave him a small smile. "What went wrong?" she asked. "You never miss."
He could hear the smile in her voice and he lifted his chin, meeting her gaze. A faint blush came to his cheeks as she continued to stare at him. "Nothin'," he growled softly, "Just missed."
Carol's head cocked to the side as she considered his answer. She knew there was something he wasn't telling her. Silence seemed to fill the space between them as she studied him. She watched as he chewed his thumbnail, his other hand coming up to push the sweaty locks of hair back from his forehead. That was when it hit her… The corner of her mouth hitched up into a smirk. "It's your hair, isn't it?"
Daryl's thumb fell away from his mouth as his brows knit together. "What?"
Carol chuckled to herself. "You can't see can you?"
He huffed, looking away.
"I've spent the last few weeks wondering how in the world you can possibly see through that mess." she gestured to his hair.
He glared at her. "I see just fine."
"Okay," she said, pushing away from the railing and taking a step towards him. "Then why'd you miss the shot?"
Daryl stood, his insecurities momentarily forgotten. "Told ya…" he snapped, "Just a shit day."
Carol took another step in his direction, slowly closing the gap between them. The hunter was glaring at her, but she wasn't intimidated. "I don't believe you." she smirked.
Daryl felt himself bristling as he moved into her space, trying to get her to back down. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his nostrils were flaring a little with each breath. "Like I give a shit what you believe…" he growled, the sound low…dangerous.
Carol stood her ground. They were closer now, just inches apart, and his scent seemed to hit her for the first time. The sharp tang of his sweat hung in the air, she could almost taste it…but there was more. She let herself breathe him in…he smelled like grass, trees…dirt…pine, smoke, water…and an earthy musk that she imagined must come from the animals he'd caught. The combination was strangely addictive and Carol was having trouble remembering what they were arguing about. She felt momentarily dazed but when she refocused on his face…the dark hair that hung in his blue eyes…it came back to her. She ignored the feelings that were stirring inside her and made herself speak. "You sure seem rattled for someone who doesn't care what I believe…." she said, the smirk still on her mouth as she stared him down.
Daryl was at a loss. He wasn't used to anyone pushing back…and he certainly hadn't expected Carol to go toe-to-toe with him. The hunter was out of excuses.
She knows….no use fightin' her…..
He bowed his head for a moment, releasing a heavy sigh. When he met her gaze again, his eyes were still narrowed, but some of the fight seemed to have gone out of him. "I was plannin' on fixin' it soon as I got back…alright?"
Carol reached up to rub her jaw. "Yeah?" she asked, amusement plain on her face.
"Ain't none of your concern." he huffed.
She couldn't help the small chuckle that was bubbling up from her chest. Carol couldn't be sure if the intoxicating scent was clouding her judgment, or if she genuinely found the situation that funny, but she was chuckling as she answered him. "So you're planning on cutting your own hair?"
That smile on her mouth was starting to get under his skin. "Ya think I can't?" He snapped, his own arms folding across his chest.
Carol rolled her eyes. "I guess I'm just failing to understand why you'd even attempt it when you have an entire group of people who can help you."
He snorted. "Ain't made a habit of askin' ya'll for help…ain't gonna start now."
Carol blinked, amazed by the stubbornness of the man in front of her. She took a moment to run her hands over her face in exasperation. "This is ridiculous…I'm not letting you cut your own hair." She didn't wait for a response, opting to head towards her cell instead. She could feel her head clearing as soon as she stepped away from him.
Daryl watched her go, a deep crease forming in his brow. "Where ya goin'? We ain't done here…" he called after her.
Carol waved a hand, dismissing his protest without looking back at him. "Come on."
Once again, the hunter found himself at a loss. He watched as she disappeared into her cell. Feeling a bit too conspicuous out on the perch, Daryl shifted nervously from one foot to the other. He chewed his thumbnail out of habit and agonized over the decision for several seconds before giving in and following her. When he was finally standing in front of her cell, he spat out a nail fragment and willed himself to calm down.
It's just Carol…she's just tryin' to help.
He cleared his throat and slid his hands into his back pockets, feeling as though he didn't have permission to go in. Carol must have sensed him lingering outside because, in the next instant, she'd pulled aside the sheet that hung from the ceiling. "You gonna let me help you?" she asked.
Daryl glared at her. "It gonna take long?" he growled.
She sighed, "Not if you sit still."
He bowed his head as he moved past her, stepping inside. Carol caught his scent again and wondered if she was making a mistake. She didn't know how she was going to focus on cutting his hair when that smell was flooding her senses, making her forget her own name. Shaking her head to rid herself of the ridiculous thoughts, she let the make-shift curtain drop.
He was standing awkwardly in the center of her cell and Carol couldn't help but find his discomfort endearing. She walked to one of the far corners, retrieving a folded, metal chair that was leaning against the wall. The legs scraped on the floor as she drug the chair to where Daryl stood. The hinges screeched when she unfolded it. "Go on," she said. "Sit."
The hunter slumped into the chair with a sigh. He took a moment to glance around the cell. There were dual bunks; all the cells had them. Carol had taped a few maps to the walls and there was a small nightstand at one end of the room. Other than that, the cell was fairly plain. Even the sheet she'd hung for privacy was devoid of patterns or prints. It was a simple, white blanket, but Daryl found that he liked it. He was never one for unnecessary frills or accents. He figured it was best not to get too comfortable anywhere…especially when he knew they'd end up running sooner or later. He could hear Carol behind him, rummaging through her bags. When she walked around the chair and stood in front of him, she held up a shining pair of scissors and a broken comb.
Daryl frowned. "Sure you know what you're doin'?"
Carol smirked at him. "What? You think you can do a better job?"
He huffed, rolling his eyes. "Just get on with it then."
She held the scissors between her teeth as her hands went to his hair, parting it. She moved to stand behind him, the comb raking gently through his hair. Daryl couldn't stop the soft groan that came from his chest when he felt the teeth of the comb being pulled through his hair. It felt good, and he idly wondered when the last time was that he'd touched a comb.
The sound echoed in Carol's ears and she found herself smiling. His hair was damp with sweat, tangled…she had to work to get the comb through but she was careful not to jerk or pull too hard. Slipping the plastic comb into her pocket she took the scissors and held them near the base of his neck. He must've sensed the cool metal approaching his skin because he sat up straight, his body going rigid. The motion startled Carol and she placed her free hand on his shoulder. Leaning down, she spoke softly to him. "Relax."
Daryl swallowed hard, his blunt nails clawing at his jeans. Her hand was surprisingly warm on his shoulder and her voice was so low in his ear. He felt his blood pressure rise when she spoke to him. The hunter didn't know exactly what was taking place but he felt that this was as relaxed as he was going to get. He managed a weak nod and kept his eyes trained on the far wall.
Carol gave his shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before she made herself let go. He felt good, strong in her hand…and she wanted to maintain that grip. She liked the way that damp skin felt under her palm, but just before her nails could dig in, the voice of reason emerged from somewhere in the back of her skull.
Focus.
She closed her eyes for a moment and took a cleansing breath, glad that she was behind him and he couldn't see her. Carol had no idea what was wrong with her. They'd all been together, as a group, for over a year now… They weren't strangers. She spent every day surrounded by the same, relatively small group of survivors. She'd memorized their faces…their voices; they knew each other's habits, skills, preferences…In all the time since their paths first crossed at the quarry, she and Daryl had probably engaged in close to a thousand micro-conversations. The group had sought temporary shelter in gas stations, barns…even storage units. There never seemed to be much privacy or space, and they'd all gotten fairly used to living in cramped quarters. Carol was sure she'd even bedded down near him on a few occasions. She remembered waking up in the middle of the night because he'd jerked in his sleep, his boot hitting her in the ribs. The memory made her smile. But for some reason…the proximity hadn't mattered then…not like it did now. She didn't understand how someone so familiar could seem so new…different. His scent was making her mouth go dry and she didn't know what to do. A sudden warmth was spreading throughout her body and she was having to exert actual effort to remain calm.
It's just a haircut…It's just Daryl…you're fine.
But it wasn't just Daryl. It occurred to her, as she stared down at the shoulder she'd been clutching just seconds ago, that he wasn't the same person she'd met at the quarry. He wasn't that angry, childish, redneck who threw tantrums when things didn't go his way…at least not anymore. She wasn't sure when exactly the change had taken place, but it had. His temper and his recklessness always made him seem like something of a boy to Carol, but the person sitting in her cell now…the shirtless, quiet, brooding, scarred person that she was standing so close so…he certainly didn't seem like a boy anymore. Losing herself, she took a moment to grip the back of the metal chair and pull that addictive scent into her lungs again. Her body trembled slightly and she bit her bottom lip hard. That's when she knew; somewhere between the quarry, the farm, the prison, and all the pain they'd endured along the way…Daryl had become a man. She must've been lost in her own thoughts for some time because the next thing she knew, Daryl was clearing his throat to get her attention.
"Ya alright?" he asked, without looking back at her.
Carol uncurled her stiff fingers, releasing the metal chair. She released the breath she'd been holding and reached up to wipe a bit of sweat that had formed on her brow. "Mhmm" she answered quickly as she tried to follow her own advice and relax.
The hunter felt uneasy. He wasn't used to spending time in other people's cells and he couldn't help but wish that he'd grabbed a shirt before letting her do this. Desperate to mask his own discomfort, Daryl decided to keep talking. "Don't go botchin' it."
Carol smiled as she stood behind him. She reached out and took a small section of his hair, holding it between two of her fingers. After several seconds of concentration, she began trimming the ends, doing her best to maintain the relatively shaggy look that the hunter seemed to prefer. "You don't trust me?" she asked as she continued clipping.
Daryl huffed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see bits of his own dark hair falling…the pieces littering the floor around his feet. "Just don't go makin' me look like a damn jack ass." The words came out as soft growls.
Carol chuckled as she finished one section of his hair "I think it looks good." She took a step back, admiring her work, and then ran her free hand through his hair, trying to get a sense of how she was doing. The instant her fingers tangled themselves in his damp locks, Carol realized she'd made a mistake. She was seized by a sudden, terrible urge to tighten her grip and pull his hair
God….
But she was stronger than that. She forced herself to let go as she moved to his side and began working on another section. Carol was working hard to maintain her composure, but beneath her mask, she was struggling. Her body seemed to thrum with a need that she couldn't quite name
The hunter was gripping the edges of the metal chair, his blunt nails scraping at the paint. He knew that it was hot outside…he'd spent the entire morning running through the woods, wiping sweat out of his eyes. The sun had been relentless. He expected to find at least a little relief within the cool, concrete walls of the prison, but as he sat in the middle of Carol's cell, he could've sworn that the heat was worse. He couldn't help but wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him. He supposed the uncomfortable warmth could have something to do with his own nervousness. A drop of sweat slipped from his temple, making a muscle in his jaw twitch. Before he could overthink the heat, Carol's long, slender fingers were raking gently through his hair and he had to close his eyes. He wasn't one for being touched, but he couldn't ignore how good it felt when she combed her fingers through his locks. He kept a low growl locked in his chest and tried to savor the slight contact. When she withdrew her hand, he turned to look at her.
Carol had the scissors raised and was about to make another cut when Daryl turned and glanced at her. They only held the connection for a moment but his eyes had the power to make her weak in an instant. Those narrowed, blue slits made her breath catch. "W-What?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound as flustered as she felt.
Daryl gnawed his lip for a moment and considered a response. He didn't know what to say…what he wanted to say… He just felt the need to look at her…to watch her.
What're ya doin'….ya need to leave her be…let her do this and be on your way…can't go askin' Carol to spend all afternoon messin' with your damn hair.
The hunter knew that the voice in his head was right…that the words made sense…but he didn't want to listen. He ignored the harsh, nagging voice, and continued to study the woman standing beside him. His eyes flicked to her feet, the high black boots she always wore…the corner of his mouth hitched up in a smirk.
Woman's come a long way…
He remembered the skittish, mousy woman he'd met at the quarry… She was always the type to keep her head down and her mouth shut…at least when her bastard of a husband was around. But that woman had disappeared a long time ago. The person staring at him now wasn't afraid of anyone or anything. Daryl had fought beside her on enough occasions and he knew, without a doubt, that she could handle herself. He found that he liked that…he liked the person she'd become. He seemed to notice, for the first time, how long her legs were. His eyes roamed carefully from the tops of her boots, higher, to her hips…to the sinister looking knife that hung from her belt…the handle featured a set of thick, brass knuckles; the metal seemed to glint in the afternoon light. The hunter thought back, idly trying to pinpoint the moment she'd made the transition from victim, to fighter. He continued to study her, taking note of her small waist. He wished there was more weight on her…that he could do a better job of providing, but he figured the haircut was the first step in the right direction. He only allowed himself to glance at her chest for half a heartbeat before refocusing on her face. She looked nervous. He noticed her hand was shaking as she held the scissors. The motion was slight; she was working to hide it, but he saw. Needing another distraction, he gestured to her hand. "Sure you're alright?" he asked.
Carol answered with a curt nod, twirling the scissors on her fingers just to prove a point. The tip of her tongue darted quickly over her lips and she clutched the tool tightly…the cool metal almost soothing in her palm. She cleared her throat and pointed to the far wall. "Face forward and keep still. I'm almost done."
He snorted. "Fine." The hunter leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
Carol blinked several times, taking a much needed breath. She couldn't concentrate when his eyes were on her. Forcing herself to continue, she held another section of his hair between two of her fingers and began making small cuts. She did her best to keep her hand from shaking. When she finally finished the side she'd been working on, Carol tucked a piece of freshly cut hair behind his ear. She acted without thinking, her fingertips barely brushing his skin…she was simply trying to be kind…to smooth down the mussed hair, but the contact was sudden and sharp…sending a jolt of electricity up through her wrist..shocking her heart and making it beat just a little faster.
A warm sigh of contentment passed Daryl's lips as he tried to remember if anyone had ever been so careful with him. Her touch was so light and a chill worked its way down his spine when he felt her soft fingers brush the skin behind his ear. Before he could even process the sensation, she pulled away.
Carol was having an internal argument…and the voice in her head seemed to be losing.
Stop. You're being ridiculous. This is a haircut, nothing more. Just a simple task that you shouldn't even have offered to help with…
The logical thoughts were doing little to calm her nerves. No amount of wishful thinking or denial would change the fact that he was sitting there…so close to her…so much of his damp skin on display for her…she couldn't ignore the way his hair felt between her fingers, or the way her core tightened when his blue eyes were trained on her face.
Dammitt….
Now there was a nagging twinge of pain between Carol's legs and it was causing fresh sweat to break out all over her body. She didn't understand the physical sensations that were currently battling for her attention….at least not entirely. Carol wasn't foolish. She knew that on some basic level, her body was simply reacting to the nearby presence of a potential partner.
Jesus…
Even the thought was too much for her. She brought one hand up, rubbing her forehead.
What the hell are you doing? Partner? The man makes every effort to distance himself from other people…What could possibly make you think that he wants physical contact with anyone…let alone you?
But Carol couldn't help the way he made her feel. It was just natural, human hunger. She was a woman who'd gone without any male attention for longer than she could remember…and her body was simply craving the contact. In a slight daze, she eyed the hunter. He was sullen, abrasive, hot-blooded, damaged…but beneath it all, he was still just a man. Carol bit the corner of her lip and wondered if he ever experienced similar hunger pangs.
He must…
She supposed that even if he did, it wouldn't make a difference. They'd all grown so accustomed to living on top of one another and placing all of their focus on the most basic necessities…food, water, sleep, shelter…. Their daily lives left little room for the pursuit of secondary needs. And for the longest time, that hadn't mattered. With the exception of Glenn and Maggie, the survivors seemed relatively content to live out the rest of their days without any physical release….aside from the barbaric rush they each got when they drove rusty blades into the skulls of walkers. But now, standing so close to him…in the stifling heat of the small cell in the mid-afternoon…Carol saw the potential for release. Despite all the time they'd spent together, Daryl was still a stranger to her in many ways. She'd never had the courage to ask him about his past…about how him and Merle first made it out of the city…or why they'd chosen to stay with the quarry group. There were a thousand things she didn't know about Daryl Dixon, but as she stared at him, Carol knew that he could stop the pain between her legs. He was grown….he was one of the strongest members of their group; she'd seen him fight and knew what kind of stamina he had…he was relentless. All these facts only served to convince Carol that he could satisfy the need that had suddenly taken hold of her.
No….
The voice of reason, though small and fading, had broken through the rosy haze of desire that was clouding her mind.
He's not looking to make that kind of connection. Forget about it, and move on. If you don't focus, you're going to make a fool of yourself… You can't just stop cutting his hair to proposition him….for God's sake….
But the thought was tempting. Pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing, Carol decided to keep doing what she'd been doing since the world fell apart; she accepted the fact that she'd simply have to do without certain things. Forcing a small smile she moved so that she was standing in front of him. He was staring up into her face. "Just have to do the front and you'll be good to go." she said.
The hunter answered with a nod, his elbows still resting on his knees. He began wringing his hands. Daryl's nerves were getting the best of him, and he didn't know why. Still leaning forward, he did his best to ignore the fact that she was in front of him. He bowed his head and wondered how much longer he'd have to sit there.
Carol steeled herself, drawing on every last ounce of self control that she had. She knew that she wouldn't be able to trim his bangs unless he lifted his chin, but the thought of his eyes on her face…it was making Carol's insides twist. Sighing softly, and struggling to remain calm, she reached out and gently lifted his chin, forcing him to look at her.
Daryl felt himself tense the moment she touched him, but he found that the contact wasn't entirely unwelcome. He didn't feel the usual urge to bat her hand away, and he didn't resist. Instead, he let her tilt his chin up. The hunter seemed calm as he stared up at her, but his heart rate was steadily increasing.
Carol swallowed hard and tried to ignore the feeling of his scruff under her fingers. "Need you to keep your head up."
He grunted softly and she took the sound as acceptance. Focusing harder than she had in a long time, Carol began to take long sections of his bangs…the damp hair slipping between two of her fingers. Daryl let his eyes close as he enjoyed the feeling of her touching him. As she continued to trim his ends, she heard a low groan come from somewhere deep in his chest. Her heart skipped a beat and she had to take a step back…putting a bit of space between them. That husky, almost animalistic sound made her temperature rise and suddenly, Carol felt as though she were suffocating. She couldn't handle the heat spreading through her body and she needed some relief…however slight. Easing carefully onto the floor, she set the scissors down with a soft clack.
The hunter's eyes opened, a crease forming in his brow as he stared down at her. "Somethin' wrong?" he asked.
Carol didn't look at him; she focused on the straps and laces of her boots as she worked to get them off. "No. Just figured it's too hot for these…and my feet hurt." she said, trying to sound normal…lighthearted.
Daryl watched as she struggled with the boots. His eyes roamed innocently from her legs to her stomach, then higher to her chest…and that's when he made an alarming discovery. She was leaning forward, fidgeting with thick leather straps and from his position in the chair, Daryl could see down her shirt. His lips parted slightly and he couldn't help but to notice the shadowed dip in her cleavage…soft curves…the tops of her breasts. It felt wrong…he knew that he should stop, clear his throat…anything…but he was strangely fascinated. Despite all the months they'd spent together, the hunter had never seen much of her skin. She tended to wear pants, long sleeve shirts…even in summer. It was simply circumstance that had given him this brief glimpse of her body, and he couldn't make himself look away.
Carol grunted as she pulled one heavy boot off and tossed it aside. Once she'd torn both boots from her feet, she quickly peeled off her socks and wiggled her toes, grateful for the slight relief. Thinking that she might finally be able to concentrate, at least long enough to trim the last few pieces of Daryl's hair, she grabbed the scissors and forced herself up off the floor. The movement pulled the hunter from his trance.
"Better?" he asked, hoping that talking would help clear his head.
She smiled, feeling the cool concrete beneath the soles of her feet; it was helping. "Yes." she chuckled. "A little." She gave him a soft smile as she moved back in and resumed her work.
Daryl was doing his best to remain stoic, neutral. He'd never given much thought to what was hiding under Carol's clothes…or any of the other women's clothes for that matter. Daryl didn't let himself think about those things. He knew that if he let his eyes or his imagination wander, he would end up with more frustration than he could handle, and no way to relive it. Even before the world went to hell, the hunter hadn't been the type to agonize over things he couldn't have…and he didn't let himself get distracted. When he felt the need for physical contact with the opposite sex, he either found a willing partner and spent several minutes behind her, grunting through his own release, or he took care of the tension on his own. Once things fell apart…there was no room for physical hunger. All that mattered was survival. But now, trapped in a small cell with Carol, he was reminded of his baser needs, and of how long it had been since they were satisfied. Daryl was trying to push the thoughts from his mind, but she was so close to him…leaning down, studying her work.
Stop. It's Carol…ya ain't got a right to think about her like that.
But he could see her chest; his eyes were drawn to the shadowed space between her breasts and he wondered if her skin was as soft as it looked. The flow of blood to his brain was beginning to redirect itself, but he was too lost to notice. His lids were heavy and his mouth was dry.
With a final, sharp clip, Carol watched the last bit of Daryl's hair fall to the floor. In disbelief that she'd actually managed to complete her task without making a fool of herself, Carol breathed a sigh of relief and wiped some of the sweat from her brow. Tucking the small scissors into her back pocket, she looked him over. Despite her nerves, she felt she'd done a decent job of taking off length while maintaining the messy style that Daryl preferred.
Sensing that he needed to speak, Daryl licked his dry lips and made himself say something. "Turn out alright?"
She smiled, nodding. "I think so." Purely out of habit, she reached out with both hands. Starting at his temples, she pushed her slender fingers back, further into his hair, trying to smooth it. He shuddered slightly, his eyes slamming shut as her nails grazed his scalp. Losing herself, Carol pulled back, combing her fingers through his locks, tugging almost playfully. She heard him growl and the sound made her core hurt. Easing back, she stared at him. His blue eyes were narrowed, sharp, cutting into her…and for a moment, she couldn't breathe. With her fingertips still resting at his temples, she tried to puzzle out the look on his face…it was at once startling and arousing. Unsure of what was taking place, Carol let her hands fall to her sides as she backed away from him. She only managed to put a few feet of space between them, her body wouldn't allow her to get any further.
Daryl instantly missed her touch…missed having her close to him. He continued to stare at her; she looked frightened. Her chest was rising and falling with each breath she took and he found the slight motion of her body mesmerizing. His toes were curling anxiously in his boots.
Carol couldn't understand the way he was looking at her. He seemed oddly fixated. It was almost as if he….
No.
The rational part of her brain was making itself heard again.
He's not….He doesn't want…..
Carol's brows knit together as her hands slid into her back pockets. She was about to say something…to break the ridiculous trance they were both in….but something stopped her. Her lips parted, and color spread across her cheeks when she noticed the hunter's arousal. Her mind could barely process what she was seeing and all Carol could do was stand, dumbfounded, and blink… Daryl hadn't moved; his eyes were still trained on her. But just below his belt, she saw what looked to be the start of an erection. Her mouth went dry and she had to make herself look away.
Does he realize? Why would he….how?
The questions were forming faster than she could hope to answer them. Her heart thrummed painfully in her chest and she reached up, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. Within the safety of her own mind, she frantically began to search for solutions.
I can pretend I didn't notice…I'll just leave…give him a minute…but It's my cell…shouldn't he leave? I guess he can't really leave like that? Jesus christ….
She was still rubbing her neck when her eyes found his again. He seemed so calm, focused… Carol had only ever seen that look on his face when she'd gone hunting with him. He'd taken her once or twice, teaching her to make snares….and he'd worn that same expression of subtle confidence when he'd lined up a shot that he knew he couldn't miss. The thought that he was watching her, the way he watched the animals he tracked, sent a rush of heat through Carol's frame. Suddenly, she didn't feel the need to leave…or make excuses. Holding his gaze, she began moving towards him again…her steps slow and sure.
Daryl didn't know what was happening; blood was pouring into the lower half of his body and he felt as though he was trapped in the metal chair.
Carol stopped when she was standing directly in front of him. The hunter sat up straight, his hands resting on his thighs. She bit the corner of her lip as she stared at the bulge in his jeans. Doing her best to remain calm, Carol refocused on his face and spoke softly. "You're good to go…unless you want to stay…" Her insides were knotting and twisting as she waited for him to say something.
For a moment, Daryl wasn't sure he'd heard her. But when he saw her eyes flick quickly to his groin, the blood froze in his veins.
Fuck….
Fear, embarrassment, and anger began to war inside him, but then Carol's words were echoing in his ears…
Stay….
A deep crease formed in his brow as he considered the possible meanings behind what she'd said.
Carol could see that he was fighting an internal battle; he was confused. Seeking to remove any doubts he might have about her intentions, she bit her bottom lip and reached for his hands. He tensed at the contact but didn't resist. Swallowing hard, she carefully brought his hands to her hips and held them there. Daryl was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring a little as he tried to process what she'd done. He stared up into her face, his eyes questioning her.
She took a deep breath a finally voiced the thoughts that had been torturing her since the moment he stepped into her cell. "If you want to stay," she said, her words hushed. "I think we can help each other." Her hands were gently rubbing his, keeping them pressed to her hips.
Daryl held back a growl that was forming in his chest. He liked the warmth of her hands…the pressure as she forced him to grip her hips. She was standing close enough for him to feel her body heat. He tried to control his breathing as he studied her face. "What'd ya have in mind?" he asked, his voice low and rasping. He let his need course through him and began massaging her hips.
Carol closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of his hands on her body. She let her own hands move away when she realized that she no longer needed to hold him in place. Groaning softly, she bit her lip again. Maybe she couldn't tell him exactly what she wanted, but she could show him. Holding her breath, Carol reached for her belt buckle. With shaking fingers, she unfastened it and then jerked the leather quickly through her belt loops. It fell to the floor, along with her knife…the metal striking the ground with a soft clink. Before she could lose her nerve, Carol's hands returned to her waistband where she pushed the button through the hole and began to tug her zipper down. Her fingers were shaking so badly that she stopped, embarrassed, and tried to regain control of herself.
Daryl could see how much she was struggling; he wanted to take the pained expression away from her face. With the tip of his tongue resting between his lips, he reached for her zipper and slowly pulled it the rest of the way down, revealing a pair of blue, cotton panties. As eager as he was to expose more of her skin, his eyes flicked to her face, seeking permission.
Carol took a shaky breath and nodded. Satisfied with her answer, the hunter gripped her waistband hard and began working the cargo pants down her hips. A small gasp escaped her when she felt his knuckles brush her bare skin.
The hunter had to force himself to keep going; he wanted to stare at those damn panties…he was leaning in, close enough to catch her scent, and it was making him rigid. But he knew that he needed to get her pants down. He slid them along her pale thighs…lower, to her knees. Carol helped him from there. She braced one hand on his shoulder and used the other to get the stubborn fabric down and off the ends of her feet. She kicked the pants away, the material scraping lightly on the floor. Standing in her underwear, Carol folded her arms across her chest and waited.
Maybe he's rethinking this….
Daryl's eyes traveled up and down the length of her pale, slender legs. He could feel his need building. Hungry for skin…for contact, his fingers curled around her panties. His eyes sought hers, and she smirked down at him…her nerves giving way to a crippling desire. She felt her breath catch as he pulled her panties down to her thighs. The motion of his hands stopped when her core came into view. With parted lips and heavy lids, he stared at the part of her he never thought he'd see. Carol took a step back, laughing lightly at the dazed look on his face. Feeling restless, she worked the panties the rest of the way down, flicking them off the end of her feet.
Daryl was at a loss for words. His brain was trying to puzzle out how they'd reached this point. Her arms were still folded across her chest as she moved to stand between his legs. The hunter couldn't take his eyes away from her core….but he sensed that he needed to act. Unsure of what else to do, he reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle just as Carol had done moments ago. The clinking of the metal, and the sound of leather being pulled through the straps made her core ache. He let the belt fall to the floor and then reached for his zipper. Before he could go any further he swallowed hard and glanced at the white sheet that hung across the cell door for privacy. There was a hint of fear reflected in his eyes when he turned back to face Carol.
She understood; his concerns were valid. The cells offered the first semblance of privacy that the survivors had known since things first fell apart…but they still shared a cell block…and sound seemed to echo off the concrete walls with startling clarity. Desperate to relieve the stabbing pain between her legs Carol turned, walking away from him. He stared hard at her ass, wondering if it had always been as firm as it was now…he wanted to know what it felt like. She wandered out of sight and he could hear her rummaging through one of her bags. When she returned to stand between his legs, she held two clean rags…one in each hand. Smirking and blushing she held one out to him. Daryl reached for the cloth, a look of confusion on his face. Not trusting herself to explain in words, she kept her eyes on his as she reached up and placed the second cloth between her teeth; she then tied the loose ends at the back of her neck, forming a crude gag.
Daryl was stunned for a moment… He couldn't believe what she'd done…or that any of this was happening. He held his own rag in his hands and stared at the woman he thought he knew. There was color in her cheeks and he liked the way that the gag looked between her lips. There was something about it…about that the fact that she was willing to restrain herself to some extent…restrain both of them, in order to move forward…it made him throb within the confines of his jeans…and he could feel moisture beading at the head of his cock. Following her lead, Daryl held the cloth in his teeth while he tied the loose ends at the back of his neck. It was uncomfortable, but that only added to his arousal. He growled softly as he returned his attention to his fly and worked the zipper down.
Carol was getting wet as she watched him. The black gag in his mouth…the way his skin shone with sweat…the dark trail of hair below his navel… It was slowly driving her crazy. And then his zipper was down and he pushed the faded jeans low on his hips, freeing his cock. His chest was heaving as he stared at her.
She felt her mouth go dry when she saw his manhood. The thickness of it made her hurt and she could feel wetness beginning to seep from between her legs. She could hardly imagine what it would be like to have him inside her…but she suspected that there would be pain.
The hunter leaned back as he stared at her. His fingers curled anxiously around the edges of the chair. Knowing that there could be no more delays…no more doubts…Carol walked towards him and carefully straddled his knees. Her palms were resting on his damp chest as she leaned in and whispered to him. "Fast…and quiet." The words were muffled by the rag in her mouth, but he heard them.
Daryl grunted through his gag, nodding. His eyes flicked to her core. Carol smirked, lifting her hips. She had one hand gripping his strong shoulder while the other traveled down between them, wrapping securely around his shaft. The hunter's eyes slammed shut and he seemed to whine. Carol marveled briefly at the feeling of him in her hand, but then remembered her own words…
Fast…
With her heart hammering uncontrollably in her chest, she moved the head of his cock to her entrance. Bracing herself, she slowly let her body sink down onto his shaft. The metal chair groaned under the weight of their bodies, but they were too lost to hear the sound. Carol couldn't breathe as he filled her. He was so stiff, painfully hard…and his swollen cock was pushing up into her center. Her wetness helped him work his way inside and her walls were forced open. She was sinking down so slowly, relishing every solid inch of him as he throbbed and twitched inside her. Carol felt that he might break her.
Daryl's breathing was shallow and his eyes were slammed shut as he felt the slick warmth of her pussy surrounding him. When the head of his cock pushed past the tight ring of muscles at her entrance, he worried that the sensation would be enough to make him come. It had been so long and he was desperate for release. Her narrow core was slowly widening, allow him in, but Daryl was impatient. Growling through his gag, he gripped her hips hard and forced her body down onto his.
Carol couldn't help the sharp cry of pain that escaped when she felt Daryl slam her down onto his dick. Their hips were finally flush, and he was completely buried in her center. It hurt, but Carol never wanted the feeling to go away. She felt full, wanted, filthy…incredible. The blunt head of his cock had nearly reached her cervix and a powerful ache was already building inside her. Her body needed time to adjust, but Daryl couldn't wait.
With his strong hands still on her hips, he held her down and bucked up into her. Carol clawed sharply at his chest and snarled. Her nails stung, but the pain only seemed to make him harder. She could feel his shaft rubbing against her walls, creating friction. The hunter locked eyes with her, his hair already plastered to his brow. "Thought ya said fast 'n quiet?" he growled under his breath.
Carol was still reeling from the feeling of him bucking up into her center but she made herself answer. "I did." she managed, her walls constricting around him.
Daryl cocked his head to the side and smirked around his gag. "C'mon then."
The combination of his voice and the look on his face made more wetness seep from her core; the added moisture seemed to help her sink down even further. Carol loved the feeling of straddling him…loved the fact that he was keeping her wide open. Her legs were spread to allow him in and she rocked her hips, making him jerk underneath her.
"Fuck…" he growled, grateful that the rag was muffling the sound.
Carol wound her arms around his neck and rocked her hips again.
"Christ…" he snarled.
Daryl had to close his eyes as he felt her walls massage his swollen shaft. He wanted so badly to come. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been inside a woman…and he'd certainly never been ridden like a damn horse before…but the sensation of being buried between her legs…pushing up into her pussy…was making his cock drip. And when she moved on top of him….it was everything he didn't know he needed. His hands moved back and forth from her hips to her ass as he grunted in her ear. "Keep goin'….faster."
Carol nodded, her fingers pulling at the ends of his hair. She felt feverish with her shirt still on…the heat was overwhelming, but there was something sexy about the fact that they were both partially dressed. Tugging sharply at his hair and clawing his neck she moved herself up and down his hard-on. She couldn't believe the intensity of the friction as he slid through her core and then pushed back in…almost hitting the top of her every time she sank down.
Daryl knew that they were supposed to keep the noise down but he couldn't help groaning as she fucked him. Each time she lowered her hips, he countered her movements by bucking up hard…his chest heaving. He gripped her ass, loving the firmness of it in his palms. The cell had been hot before but now Daryl was fighting to breathe. The sheen of sweat was getting thicker on their bodies and he felt lightheaded. They were panting into the crooks of each other's necks and the hunter didn't know how much longer he would last. The way that her walls hugged him…it made him want to push her onto the floor and drive himself into the delicious heat between her legs.
Carol was getting weak…her insides already starting to quiver, but she had to keep going. She wanted to feel him come. The feeling of his hands on her ass made her walls open even wider and she began to lose control. She was operating on pure need as she bounced on top of him. Hips rising and sinking in rapid succession. Her heart was thrumming violently and she bit down hard on her gag. She pushed herself, moving up and down, breathing hard…sweat trickling down her spine. The feeling of his cock in her core was maddening. Despite her own warnings, she'd begun muttering through the cloth between her teeth. "God…..dammit….Daryl….yeah….yeah….yeah….there….please….fuck…..harder."
The hunter's dick was throbbing painfully inside her and he was convinced, each time she moved, that the sensation would drive him over the edge. It was difficult to make out her words through the gag, but he heard her. With a strong grip on her hips, he began bucking harder and faster, forcing his shaft up into the tight heat of her core. Her body almost seemed to cling to him each time he slipped inside…and it only made him want to push harder…he wanted to break her.
She heard him grunting as he fucked her…his body working hard under hers. With her arms still wrapped around his neck, and her eyes closed, Carol rocked against him. Her toes were curling as her body began to tense. Her pussy squeezed him every time he thrust up into her wetness. He was jerking under her, straining to go as deep as he could. He was ruthless, forceful as he made her move on top of him. Her walls were being stretched, forced open by his long, thick shaft and the hardness of it was making tears well in the corner of her eyes. But she wanted it…wanted him. Desperate for release, she picked up the pace, riding him hard. The chair was creaking beneath them, threatening to give way, but neither of them cared. All that mattered was friction, pressure, pain and heat.
Daryl's teeth were clenched tightly around the cloth in his mouth as he pushed himself into Carol's core, again and again and again. He was getting frustrated…he wanted her to finish. He wanted to know what it felt like to be inside a woman when she comes. So he held himself back and continued to work her body, his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass. He thrust his hips up, as fast and as hard as he could, hoping to hit the spot that made her weak.
Carol was getting dizzy with pleasure, her body in sensory overload. Buried in the crook of his neck, she pulled his scent deep into her lungs and held it there, heightening her own arousal. She could tell that he was getting impatient. His movements were almost violent and he was so rigid inside her. Opening herself up to all the pleasure he could give her, Carol spread her legs just a fraction of an inch wider and felt his manhood slide into the deepest part of her heat…the head of his cock hitting a place that made her entire body tremble. With her mouth open in a silent scream, Carol's insides tensed…her walls crashing around him as her orgasm struck in the form of a hot, wet, spasm. Her muscles seemed to convulse rapidly, clenching and unclenching the still swollen shaft that filled her pussy. As her release washed out around him, Carol groaned and continued bucking her hips. Every thrust seemed to amplify her pleasure and her climax became all consuming…making her body lock up around him. Her passage became painfully tight, narrow…but Daryl wasn't done with her and he forced his hips up, pushing through her trembling core.
When the hunter felt her pussy convulse around him, he snarled into the crook of her neck. It was so sudden, and the muscles so strong….that he nearly bit through the rag. He was massaging her ass roughly as he continued to fuck her…relishing the orgasm he'd given her. He realized that she was still moving up and down, riding him, seeking deeper penetration…and he wanted to give her whatever she needed. If he could send her into a stronger climax, or a second climax, he was going to do everything in his power to make that happen. But the slickness was proving too much. She slid up and down his shaft so easily now that she'd come…and the way she moved, slipping, sinking….it was making his dick jerk within the confines of her walls. He could hear her groaning in pleasure each time his shaft filled her, and the sound was sending him over the edge. Holding onto her ass and clenching his jaw, he began thrusting as hard as he possibly could…fucking her senseless. Soon, she stopped riding him and he knew that she was too weak. A morbid satisfaction settled over him as he realized that he'd finally broken her. There would be no more tension in her muscles, no more resistance…he could go as hard and as deep as he wanted. Clawing desperately at the soft flesh of her ass, Daryl pushed himself up into the deepest part of her wet core and finally let himself come. He forced her to move on top of him, up and down, over and over, those soft, trembling walls massaging him and milking him of his orgasm as his throbbing cock finished spurting…his hot seed filling her.
Carol couldn't see straight…she couldn't tell up from down and she sure as hell couldn't feel her legs. All she knew was that Daryl had pushed her through her first orgasm, sending her into a second, crippling, all-consuming climax…the sensations had been so powerful that she'd blacked out…at least that's what she thought happened. Carol couldn't be sure. She blinked several times, and the grey walls of the cell slowly came back into focus. Her mouth was dry and the haze in her mind was beginning to clear. His scent was all around her and she smiled. Unlocking her stiff arms from around his neck, she reached up and untied her gag, letting the now damp cloth drop to the floor. From her place on his lap, she stared lazily down at the rag and smirked, wondering how much good it had actually done. She could feel Daryl panting heavily against her shoulder and she carefully untied his gag as well, pulling it away from his mouth.
Grateful to be rid of the damn thing, Daryl licked his chapped lips and groaned, his hands weakly squeezing her ass. Carol chuckled lightly, pushing him back, easing them apart so that they could look at one another. His face was flush and dark hair was plastered to his brow…his temples. His usually keen, blue eyes looked drugged. and Carol smiled at him. She couldn't recall a time when she'd ever felt as satisfied as she did in that metal chair with Daryl.
He smirked back at her, his hands moving from her ass to her waist. As his breathing began to slow, the hunter frowned at her shirt.
"What?" Carol asked, chuckling.
He snorted, his fingers inching under the hem and traveling smoothly up her stomach until he found her breast; he gave the bare flesh a gentle squeeze. "Next time…this shit needs to go." he growled softly.
Carol's lips parted in amusement, her head tilting to the side. "Next time?" she asked, smirking at him.
Daryl blushed, realizing that he'd just assumed she'd want to do it again.
"What makes you think there's going to be a next time?" she asked, teasing.
He looked away for a moment, his shoulders shrugging. "Just figured…." he gnawed his lip before he got the courage to meet her gaze again. "Seemed like ya enjoyed it."
Carol couldn't help it; she leaned forward, resting her forehead on his chest as she laughed. "It seemed like I enjoyed it…" she echoed.
The hunter gave her breast another squeeze, making her sit up. She was smirking at him, her face almost glowing. "What tipped you off?" she chuckled.
The corner of Daryl's mouth hitched up in a smirk and he felt himself blush again.
She had one hand playing with the ends of his hair at the base of his neck, while the other moved slowly up and down his slick chest. The feeling of that damp skin beneath her fingertips was turning Carol on again and she found that she was already looking forward to 'next time.'
Staring at the woman who still sat in his lap…connected to him…the hunter grew concerned. "I didn't hurt ya, did I? If I did…I'm sorry….I just…"
Carol shook her head, smiling at him. "Stop. I'm fine. Better than fine…" Her eyes were on his mouth and suddenly, she felt his lips pressing into hers. She was surprised, but adjusted to the feeling quickly, her mouth working softly against his. The kiss was awkward, unexpected…wet, but it still made Carol's heart beat faster. When they separated, he was staring at her…his eyes questioning whether or not he'd crossed a line.
Carol reached up, her fingertips gingerly touching her lips. She hadn't counted on that. It was just supposed to be release…an even trade…just sex. But when he kissed her…she didn't pull away. It felt right…good. It was definitely new, and strange, but good. As a smile spread across her face, Carol kissed him again. She could feel him smirking against her lips and they broke for air, studying one another. Daryl's hands slid to her waist where he held her carefully, keeping her in his lap. "Think we mighta been too loud?" he asked
She laughed. "I really don't care." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him long and hard. And as her warm tongue slipped into his mouth, Daryl couldn't help but think that that was the best damn haircut of his life.
Welllll, ahem….I think I might be getting the hang of this smut thing. ; ) I don't smoke…but I might start…lol. As always, I aim to please and I hope you guys had fun with this! I think Carol and Daryl deserved some afternoon delight. I also have fun writing humor and I thought that the conversations between the group members were kinda funny : ) I'm still working on requests, but feel free to send new ones via pm! If anything tragic happens in this mid-season finale, I will definitely be in need of support from fellow Caryl shippers! If you liked this, please tell me why in the reviews!
-Sami