Disclaimer: Don't own any of the original characters from the Walking Dead, though Technically AMC, it's writers and Norman Reedus own the idea of Daryl Dixon. I'm borrowing him to let my muse play, she likes to play with Daryl...Hell Who Doesn't?!

Notes: This Chapter is Most Definitely Rated M for Language and gratuitous descriptions of Nakedness : P No kids allowed!

Updated for Typos and wordy-issues 4/9

If you see anymore of them, PM me! *Muah!*

Chapter Fourteen

(Fin POV)

I'm dreaming.

I know I must be dreaming because several things make absolutely no sense.

One; I'm lying on the ground—I never sleep on the ground. Ever.

Two; I'm not alone. And since this is a my dream I've got a pretty good idea just who's arm is wrapped around me—not that I'm in any way complaining considering the direction my dreams have been going lately...

And Finally; and this is the Big One.

I'm Naked.

It doesn't get any more ridiculous than that.

Naked.

In a sleeping bag—

with Daryl.

Thanks brain. Attraction dually noted.

I obviously need my head examined.

At the very least I need to switch to something other than romance novels when I get home. They've apparently melted my brain into so much sex-obsessed-goo that I've become incapable of G-rated dreams.

Oh well, It's not like this would ever happen in real life—might as well enjoy it.

And it beats the hell out of night terrors.

I wiggle my hips scooting back into his chest. His arms tighten around me in reaction pulling me in close 'til I'm flush with him; skin on… Oh My.

Dream Daryl is naked too.

I hum in approval, the sound changes to a soft moan when his hands slide up from my waist. His rough calloused fingertips teasing over soft pliant skin creating the most appealing friction.

A groan of approval escapes my lips as I arch into warm palms cupping my breasts. I lean back into a warm lean muscled chest. Sighing in approval at the sensation. I raise one hand to cup the back of his head; run my fingers through his thick hair. Tilt my chin so his lips can continue trailing soft open-mouthed kisses across my skin. His lips move up to my ear, travel back down to nibble my collarbone.

I moan, press my thighs together over the heat roaring out from my apex to flood my whole body.

I need pressure, friction, something more…

One of his hands leaves my breasts, edges down my side to wrap around my hip—holds me still as his hips press against me; every nerve ending in my whole body arcing with tiny sparks of pleasure at his touch.

My breath leaves me in a strangled gasp. I grind blindly back into the sensation of his erection pressing to the curve of my ass.

I moan, tilt my head offering him more access—more skin to suckle and nip. My hips incline towards him without thought, my body on autopilot; seeking release.

I gasp and grind against his length pulling a rough moan from his lips.

I need more…need to touch him; all of him.

I twist in his arms; turn until his arms pull me in again. Until I'm flush against the inviting heat of his chest once more, a sigh escapes me.

It's cold tonight, his heat feels glorious drifting across my skin…I want to spread it over every inch of my body. Wrap myself in it, and get lost.

I let my hands trail over his chest through the sparse hair over his heart; feel its pounding beat under my fingertips. Run my fingers down over the firm muscles in his core—feel them tense and jump under my questing fingers. I dip my head, tuck my face into the warmth under his chin, breathe him deep into my lungs.

He smells wild, and dangerous, and very faintly like earth and leather.

It's a fascinating mixture that makes my head whirl.

I run my hands back up his well-muscled arms, thrilled that I get to feel them flex under my hands… I've been more than a little distracted by these perfectly muscled arms for days...every time he hefts that damn crossbow I nearly trip over my own feet staring at them...

My fingertips trace up to his broad shoulders, then down his back. I pause there, perplexed by my new discovery.

Shallow dips transverse the skin of his back. Scars...They crisscross the wide otherwise smooth expanse between his shoulder blades. I trace my fingers over them breathing against his skin; feel him tense under my hands.

His breath catches but he doesn't move beyond tensing muscles; he doesn't stop my searching fingers.

It's an odd thing for my dream to have; he's never had marks on his skin like these before…

That thought tugs at my conscious for a moment; 'til his mouth finds my neck and I'm too focused on the way his breath feels against my skin…the heat of his lips traveling across my throat to taste the dip of my shoulder to spare another thought for my previous discovery.

I let my hands slide down to his chest, almost to his hips…pause finding a second rough spot marring his perfect side... this one halfway down just below his ribs.

I slide my hands over the imperfect skin my eyes closed tight, face pressed against his neck, breathing unsteady; trying to read his skin like braille, unsure what happened here…why it's in my dream...

He tenses under my fingers when my hand dips lower moving on.

Now his breathing changes, coming in harsh pants against my skin. His fingers tighten over my skin when my fingers find another very interesting part of him.

One I'm far more interested in exploring further...

He shakes when I touch him; wrap my fingers around him. Pump down his length. His hands find my body in the dark one settles on my hip the other grabs my arm—like he's going to stop me… But when my hand pumps down him again all his fingers do is tighten to an almost painful grip. A groan escapes him.

His hips buck forward into my hand. He obviously enjoys the sensation. I'm curious about the hesitation...

Dream Daryl has always been more aggressive…until now.

Now he patiently waits, breathing ragged; tiny tremors of tension moving through his whole frame while I explore him. He's still not speaking, his hands motionless where he first laid them against my skin.

And that won't do.

I release him, take his hand from my side. He lets go instantly with the gentle tug of my fingers, his breathing fast and ragged when I place his hand against my cheek.

I lift up to move, one hand against his shoulder pushing him back while I slide my leg over him. He lays back without a fight, his breath catching when I straddle his waist just above his hips. His breathing the only other obvious reaction beyond his finger's tightening over my upper arm.

The room spins for a moment with my change in elevation.

I didn't expect that—am unsure why I'm suddenly dizzy.

I must move or make some sound of distress because his previously quiet hands move then—the hand on my arm slides up to my shoulder steadying me; bracing my weight while I take in several shaky breaths trying to orient myself.

When I don't move for almost a full minute his fingers slide back from where I placed his palm against my cheek, his hand cups the side of my face. It's warm and comforting, I lean into his touch eyes closed tightly against the spinning darkness. It doesn't help…

Why am I so dizzy?

I don't move, just breath slowly in and out, waiting for the world to stop its crazy tilting ballet.

The cold air on my back sends a shiver racing down my spine, my whole body shudders in response. I'm instantly colder than I expected which is odd; I felt warm a moment before...

I miss the heat of his chest pressed to mine. I shiver, the muscles in my arms trembling under just my weight.

"Fin?" He moves then; sits up. His hands pushing at my shoulders 'til I slide backwards onto his lap as he rises. I gasp when the change in position brings his erection so close to where I want him to be…

He leans towards me somehow completely ignoring the fact that I'm straddled over his lap; I find myself wrapped back in the heat of his chest as he drapes his arm around my shoulders again pulling me tight against him.

I let my head drop; forehead pressed to the crook of his neck.

This dream would be far more productive if it wasn't for the slight dizziness still plaguing my senses…

His hands slide down my back slowly, barely moving—just an achingly gentle glide of fingertips over my spine. Heat floods me with even this simple touch. I gasp press closer to him taking in the unique scent of his skin.

I want more, don't want him to stop…

He's silent again, his hands stop on my lower back just above the curve of my ass.

If he would just grab my waist, lift my hips; press into me. I tremble in anticipation, disconcertingly ready and wet for someone who's scarcely been touched.

His breath tickles my ear.

"Fin, what are we doing?" His shaky whisper throws me off.

Dream Daryl has never had to ask me before; in fact, he's always started our encounters, sometimes I join mid-program…which is interesting…even for dreams.

This is very different.

The quiet, hesitant touches, his trembling hands.

But it's not a bad different…If I was actually going to be with someone after….

I push that thought away.

No, there is nothing wrong with gentle.

This is how it should go.

I'll leave reckless and wild for another fantasy.

I press closer to him, trail my lips across his skin…feel his breathing change. His pulse skyrockets under my tongue. His grip is unsteady; hands shake as they circle my waist just above my hips.

I bring my hands up ever so gently trail my fingers up his arms feeling him flex and tense each muscle under the feather light touch as I trace over them. I find his face in the dark.

He flinches back from my touch stomach muscles tightening against mine with the movement.

He stops just as suddenly, lets out a ragged breath in the dark.

I wait listening to his breathing. Feel him lean into me again slowly. His fingers close over mine, bring them back to his jaw in the darkness.

His fingers slide down my hands to circle my wrists. Keeping tabs on my hands in the low light. I touch him again, encouraged; let my fingers slip from his jaw up to his temple.

His hands slide down my arms move back to my waist. Goose bumps from the cold have broken out across my skin making me shiver and lean into his warmth as my hands slide back through the loose strands of his hair, just long enough to curl around his face, to lie against his unshaven rough jawline.

I'm not the only one that could use a haircut...

"Fin…" His voice is barely audible.

I sigh, lean further into him press my mouth to the side of his neck, feel him shake under my hands.

"Touch me. It's okay." He seems to need permission.

His breathing quickens again, he doesn't move for almost a full minute. I wait; wonder if I'm about to wake up, tortured without relief again, be forced to lie next to him in the dark yet again, wracked by frustration desperately willing myself back to sleep…when just his thumbs slide over my skin...draw the tiniest of circles against the soft skin of my hip.

I sigh, lean into his touch.

Air hisses from him between tightly clenched teeth. I take his hands in the dark; feel him tense under my touch when I bring them up to frame my face once more.

I turn my cheek into one of his palms; press a soft kiss to the flesh just below his thumb.

"Please…touch me."

His hands seize me, pull me close until my head is against his neck again. He wraps his arms around my back holding me so close I can feel each ragged breath he takes against my skin.

"Why are you so afraid?" The moment I whisper it, I know it's true.

For some reason touching me scares the shit out of him.

I'm so tired of everyone being afraid of me; he doesn't seem to fear anything…but the brush of my fingertips has him trembling.

I don't want him to be afraid…Can't stand it.

I tilt my face, let my mouth travel over the hollow in his throat, nibble at his Adam's Apple. The sound he utters is pure approval of my action despite the shake of his hands.

I raise my head press one soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, bring my fingers up to trail over his jawline feel his uneven breath against my cheek. I tilt my head again, press another feather light kiss to the other corner of his mouth; draw back giving him time to process, react.

His lips part in a rush of air against mine as he leans into me, his fingers move up my back, pulling me closer to him. I moan against his mouth.

His lips slide over mine, so soft I barely feel them, they might have been a puff of air...

Except for the sound he makes. It tears through me, makes me tremble.

He raises his hands to frame my face, mirroring mine, holding me still in the dark, while his thumbs tracing over my cheeks ever so careful... like I'm made of delicate glass bound to shatter in his hands.

I let my eyes slip shut lean into his warm palms, feel his lips again; just barely there, the softest touch before he pulls back. Only this time I follow him, his hands move with me; not stopping my movement.

I don't touch him for long, the ghost of a kiss, my lips pressing to the corners of his mouth again, than his lower lip.

I gasp in surprise when he leans forward following my retreat, his lips finding mine again in the dark, sliding over mine with a more even, firm pressure. I let my fingers trail down to his shoulders, down his arms, slide them back to rest over the muscles covering his ribs, feeling them rise and fall with each nervous breath.

He hasn't retreated from my touch; I take that as encouraging and move my lips over his, run my tongue over that distracting bottom lip.

His fingers tighten in my hair as I press my lips against his again. I wait for him to withdraw and when he doesn't I bring one hand up to tangle in his hair; tug at his scalp just enough that he shifts against me. Lets my mouth slant over his, tongue invading his mouth.

He freezes for a moment, and I'm positive he's going to shove me away; reject me and retreat into the darkness. But his arm slide around my waist, his lips move against mine, fingers cup the back of my neck.

The kiss changes, angles shift and I'm no longer in control...

I gasp into his mouth, sparks of pleasure working their way down my spine with each breath against my lips, every caress of mouth against hungry mouth.

I let my hips rock against his lap promisingly. Grind my center against his length, feel him jump under the sensation; whimper against my mouth. He deepens our embrace, into a tangle of limbs, and soft sounds, mouth sliding over mine, rough, captivating; then soft and gentle.

It's too much, not enough, he's stealing air from my lungs in one second; breathing back into me just when I start a lazy spin in the next. Hunger pours through me, triggers and sparks every nerve. I quiver and jump under his roaming hands, arch and practically purr into his mouth with each bolder and bolder caress.

It would be damn embarrassing if it wasn't so exhilarating—if when I pulled back to catch my breath he didn't follow me, pressing soft breathless kisses to my mouth, nipping at my lower lip…making me groan his name

I'm nothing but nerves and heat, I want; need him…I wiggle and gasp against his neck when his cock briefly makes contact with my center. Pleasure sears up my spine making me tremble, anticipation drips from me like honey.

I need to feel my heat press around his. Need to envelope every inch of him, wrap myself around him, writhe against him until he can't remember how to speak, how to even breathe.

He groans into my mouth, the sound becomes a growl when my hand wraps around him tracing his thick contours in the dark. I feeling his heaviness twitch and throb against my palm making my insides ache with desire to be filled.

His lips move to my ear teeth slide over my skin. His hands slide down my sides, seize my hand and pull me away from my trophy. I rock my hips backward against him instead. Press my entrance to him, feel him hiss against my neck, his teeth slide over my skin to keep from crying out.

His hips bucking forward in blind instinct seeking contact…Even as several long deliciously calloused fingers lock over my hips, digging into my skin to stop me from moving to answer his action.

His face is hidden against my neck, breathing far too fast against my skin to be so immobile.

It tickles, sends shivers down to my pebbled nipples pressed against his bare chest. Little sparks of anticipation race down my spine, send a flood of heat and liquid fire to pool where his erection was just pressed into me.

I lean forward, press closer to his chest, his grip tightens on my hips but he doesn't move beyond that. My lips find his neck, press there; feel his breath hitch against my skin when I slide my teeth over his skin, swirl my tongue over him to sooth the sting.

"Daryl," He's shaking again... "please…." I let my mouth trail to his ear, trace my tongue over its edge, his grip becomes painful.

"Please, touch me…"

"I can't," his voice breaks "we can't do this…" He's whispering into the curve of my neck, voice rough. His breath is hot against my skin while his lips press to my collar slowly dragging up over my skin, sliding teeth and lips against my ear. Pausing there to breathe in the scent of my hair; his tender actions contradicting his denial...

I still, wait for further argument, or rebuttal.

When his lips seal over my earlobe instead I brush my fingers up his sides, use the leverage of my fingers in his hair to lift his head; press my lips to his. I feel his mouth slide over mine instantaneously willing, and eager for control. I let my tongue tangle with his, fingers curled in the dark hair at the base of his neck, tilt his head back so I can move onto my knees whilst still straddling his lap. His grip on my hips tightens once more. His lips jerked back from mine in surprise when the tip of his length brushes against my waiting heat from my new position.

"Fuck you doing girl?" His voice is tight, barely audible, exhaled on a ragged breath.

"This isn't a dream," His fingers frame my face, smooth my hair back, cradle the back of my head. "you…you can't want this..."

I lean away from him stung by his words.

"Why not? What's so wrong with me?"

His breath leaves him in a rush, fingers soften on my hips.

"Nothin, your fucking perfect, I don't deserve that." He sounds broken, like a lost child. The image is such a far cry from the capable, self-assured man I've seen every day…

I bring my hands up to frame his face again, tighten my grip on his hair just enough to hold him in place when he starts to pull away. "That's not what I see."

He shakes his head, ready to argue.

So I kiss him again.

Shut him up with my lips moving over his, tongue exploring his mouth, sparring with his for dominance. His fingers tighten on my hips while I shift, pull him back to me.

He lets out a curse, jerking back, breaking the kiss when I slide over him…so wet and ready he's halfway home before he reacts; seizes my hips in an iron grip halting the exquisite pressure and near pain as I press onto him bury him in my heat...

He hisses my full name head falling back; but I'm too distracted to care...

Every sense and nerve possessed by the wicked burn deep inside me. The throbbing fire of muscles stretched wide, the promise of mind blowing pleasure that can only come from one thing. Sparks dance behind my eyes as I roll my hips against him, despite the bite of his fingers against my skin. The friction of such a small action flares through me.

He buries his face against my neck, whispers my name, tremors sweeping up his spine. I press back onto him a little further and he lets me, his fingers never leaving my hips, anchoring him to me in the darkness like a lifeline. His breath rushing from him in near panicked flutters against my skin.

"You can still stop, you don't have to do this…" it's a whisper against my neck, he holds himself so still-barely breathing.

"Daryl. I want you to touch me."

He whimpers against my skin torn with indecision.

So I make the choice.

I press down hard and fast, driving him all the way inside me. My own fingers digging into the skin at his shoulders with a startled gasp of surprise; my pleasure teetering on the brink of pain at the impulsive invasion. Heat pricks behind my eyes. I quickly close them, needing to hide, if only for a moment…

Daryl's hips buck beneath me in reflex when my muscles flutter around him adjusting to his intrusion; he must feel me tremble though, and halts the movement breath coming in harsh barely contained pants that bloom with gentle heat across my face.

"Fuck Fin! Have you lost your damn mind?" His tone is harsh but his fingers curl around my neck, thumb slides over my cheek with the softest caress.

"Did I hurt you?" His voice shakes.

"no…" my voice is barely a whisper.

Technically I hurt myself…

I need to move, distract him before he picks apart my quiet response, holds it against himself when it was my doing… I draw myself up, feel his fingers tighten on my hip, hand cup the back of my neck as I rise off him slowly, feeling my way through new sensations.

My insides ache as he leaves me with agonizing slowness, afraid I'll hurt myself again, give myself away—That he'll make me stop if I cry out. I slide back down against him in the same slow rhythm, feeling the sting as I stretch around him slower this time. I repeat the rhythm several more times feeling his breath come faster with each journey, his muscles coiling tighter and tighter like an over strung bow string ready to snap.

Slowly the burn is replaced by tingles of pleasure that dance behind my eyelids each time I drag his skin across mine, burst in tiny sparks along my spine when I shift myself over him on the last downward thrust, rolling my hips in startled pleasure at the sensation dragging a growl that sounded like my full name from his lips.

The sound sends pleasure through me right to my toes; I instantly want to hear it again.

I draw myself up faster this time feel his reaction with every nerve in my body when I drive myself down over him with the same tempo, rolling my hips in a soft circle, grinding him deep inside me.

"Holy…fuck." He shakes, hands sliding over my skin.

I agree.

I let out a shaky breath that sounds a bit like a laugh. Repeating the action over and over until I'm trembling from head to toe with the rush of sensation, locked in his arms, gasping for air against the crook of his neck.

Sweat is beaded at the base of my spine, pleasure flooding out every thought, clouding everything out but the drive to feel him moving inside me; buried deep.

His fingers lock around my hips, digging into my skin with deliciously possessive weight.

His pelvis thrusts up against me, grinding against my center with each twist of his hips sending heat roaring up my spine. Fire burns through my epicenter, tremors sweep through me. I cry out. Gasp his name against his shoulder as wave after wave of throbbing ecstasy overwhelms me; pouring through my core, clinching my muscles around his next thrust. My release dragging a groan from his lips as his head tips back pumping in a rough broken rhythm, finally spilling more heat into me and setting off another endless rhythm of my own heat and pleasure spiraling out through my limbs, softer this time but no less intense...

I can't think, can barely breathe, helpless to do anything but buck against his continued thrusts with a deft roll of my hips repeating the delicious friction that sent me careening over the edge to begin with...

I collapse in on myself, spent, muscles quivering with little aftershocks. I tremble against him, head against his shoulder, cradled in his arms; trying to get enough air into my lungs to fuel my racing heart, the sound of it deafening in my ears.

His hand still cups the back of my neck, his breathing no better than mine. I shiver with each tremor that rocks his body, can feel them—where he's still buried deep inside me.

I wait several minutes for him to speak, increasingly worried by his silence.

"Daryl, are you okay?" My voice shakes.

His arms tighten around me, drag me down as he collapses back in a tangle of limbs, bringing me down to lay sprawled across his chest. After a few breaths he rolls us just enough so I slide from his body to his side, my head pillowed on his chest. I wait while he seems to collect his thoughts.

"Now I understand why Maggie and Glenn were always in the damn guard tower."

I laugh, bury my face against warm skin that smells like him, and sex; it's a fascinating combination.

"Fin…." He stops. I tense ready to pull away from him. "I pulled you out of the river, you nearly drowned…"

I frown in the dark, memory hazy, still a bit dizzy when I move my head.

Why bring that up now of all things?

"Why didn't you tell me about Caleb?"

My throat closes over my next exhale.

Caleb.

It all comes back to me in a burst of heart pounding terror.

Caleb in the woods.

The urge to run, his wink…

Caleb trying to shoot Daryl, oh God…

Hands on my shoulders, cold swirling…bitter cold…

I'm breathing far too fast.

I shove backwards from his embrace. stumble awkwardly backwards my muscles still not ready to respond after such a heavy flood of endorphins, land sprawled on my bare ass on loose cold dirt, no idea where we are...

I scramble backwards from him shaking, searching the darkness in panic. The freezing cold air wraps around me, stealing my breath…reminding me of the water…

He doesn't move towards me. Sits perfectly still in the dark. I can just barely make out his outline in the moonlight filtering in through the gaps in the ceiling.

"I'm sorry, God, I'm sorry…" I bury my face in my hands.

"Hell you apologizing for? I'm the one that fucked up…shit," he raises a hand to the back of his neck barely visible in the dark. "I shouldn't have brought that up." He drops his hand. "Fin, get over here."

He moves toward me, wraps his hand around my wrist tugs me forward, I don't fight it, muscles already shivering from the freezing cold.

"I didn't jump in a damn river to let you freeze to death in the middle of the night."

I let him pull me back into the sleeping bag. I lay down next to him again. I'm surprised to feel him drape one arm over my waist again tucking me into his chest.

I let out a shaky breath, tremble when I feel his mouth press to my shoulder.

"Why didn't you warn me they might be out there? I need to know shit like that, before it happens. Damn near got us both killed."

I didn't want to bring it up, anything that risks exposing me, threatens my chance of staying with them...with him…

"I was hoping they were long dead by now."

It's true. I've been sending groups of Dead towards their farm for weeks trying to drive them out, destroy them.

"Caleb knew you."

I don't want to talk about it…

But I know there's no way around it now.

"I ran into his family several months ago. They're the worst kind of people."

I pause; take a slow calming breath trying not to think about that day.

"The Peacocks took their survival notes from the Dead; they slaughter and eat the other people they come across..." I shiver, but it's not from the cold.

"Did Caleb," His fingers tighten involuntarily on my skin. "Did they hurt you before?"

"I got away." Dwelling on the past won't change it. "That's what matters." I'm alive.

We're both silent for a few moments.

"Daryl, I don't exactly remember what happened after I fell in the river..." It's all a peculiar blur I seem to remember Daryl carrying me, and stripping off my shirt…

he obviously took everything else off as well...

"Caleb's dead." His voice is harsh, laced with venom. "I bashed his head in."

One less Peacock, that's good.

I slide my hand over his; squeeze his fingers briefly in silent thanks.

"He deserved to die." I hope he doesn't feel guilt for killing him; though based on his tone I can guess that's not a problem.

"How many people are we talking about on this farm?" His arm tightens around me again, pulls me further back against his chest. I'm careful not to shift my weight around too much this time.

"The Mom, her two brothers-Caleb has three brothers, and I've seen at least three others consistently on the property...Caleb's cousins."

"That's a lot to sneak or fight past without losing people on our end."

"They usually offer people a place on their farm in exchange for work. If Glenn and the others are there it's entirely possible they'll be walking around the property with no idea what's actually going on. Gary was out with Caleb looking for other survivors." I take a deep breath.

"They won't make their move until they're sure they have everyone they can…Especially if they think there are more women out there."

He's quiet for a long time.

"Fin, earlier…" he pauses.

My face flushes in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry,"

His arm tightens around me. "Hell you sorry for woman?" Breath tickles my ear, "that was fucking amazing." He takes a deep breath while I try to figure out how to process that.

When he speaks again I'm almost asleep, his voice is quiet but firm. "You can't go to that farm."

"We'll figure it out tomorrow." I'm too tired to argue.

Notes: So I did my best to keep Daryl as in Character as possible, he's a rough guy to write. :) Thanks for reading!