The Shipyard

by zenofbeingmommy

Caryl bits from my notebook - chapters are individual drabbles, not meant to represent a whole - not everything will be M, but rating it that way because some may be (The Walking Dead and identifiable characters are not mine - no infringement is intended or implied) - quality improves as chapters go on - you may want to start with the most recently published

5. More Than A Kiss

Her lips tasted like honey and mint, and felt softer than the peaches hanging heavy in the branches stretched overhead. He felt the roughness of his own as they pressed against hers, and cringed inwardly. This could hardly be romantic for her. He released an audible scoff.

She pulled away and placed her hands gently on each cheek. 'What's the matter?'

'Your lips are too soft. Mine feel like sandpaper. Can't be nice for ya.'

She giggled. 'It's just a simple sugar scrub I made, I'll share if you like. But just so you know, I don't mind a bit. I like the feel of your lips on mine.'

He could feel the color rise in his cheeks. She was lovely and understanding. Before things changed, he'd had no luck finding someone who didn't have some angle, let alone actually wanted to be with him. How was this possible? It struck him, he was different now. It took the world changing to change him, but it had, and for the better.

He brought his hands up to her own and pulled them down gently into his lap. He wasn't going to run away and she needed to know that. But he wanted to slow down. He had brought her out here away from the others. He had initiated the kiss, and he knew he could take it further, it was clear she was receptive. But he didn't want her to misunderstand his intentions. He needed her to know a deeper truth than this kiss was expressing. And he didn't want his desire to confuse things.

He didn't know how to tell her he was afraid to ruin what they had, what they could have, with sex. And he was afraid that his awkward attempts would make it even worse.

Kissing her seemed so natural. Other than his hyper-awareness of the texture of his own lips, it had felt right pressing his to hers, sucking lightly, play biting, flicking with the tip of his tongue. But that was as much as he dared. To invade her mouth with his tongue seemed too direct, too forward, too sexual.

He'd been silent, wrapped up in his thoughts, and he brought his eyes up to meet hers. She was staring at him, full and open and bright.

'I can't fuck this up, Carol. I just can't. I don't want things to be awkward with us. I want you...physically...very much. I want more than this, just not yet…'

She smiled. 'Why mess with perfection, right?' She pulled his arms around her waist and settled with her back leaning into him, knotting her fingers with his own.