If there was one time Merle hated, it was the second or so week of every month.
As he collected his box and made his way around the brothel, he couldn't help but grind his teeth together. Nothing pissed him off like payday.
He began walking away from his desk towards the stairs, but just as he was about to pass the kitchen doorway, Glenn popped his head out, providing a perfect target for Merle's frustration.
Reaching into his money box, Merle pulled out a heavy bag of Glenn's cut, and threw it at his head.
The bag hit with such force that the unsuspecting Glenn stumbled back into the kitchen, narrowly keeping himself on his feet as he cradled his nose, "What the hell!?" He asked as he drew away his hands from his nose. Seeing no blood, he began to test the skin with his fingers.
"Open up yer eyes next time, sonny, maybe you'll actually see that coming." Merle chuckled as he climbed the stairs.
In the kitchen, Glenn mumbled, "Racist prick," as he collected his money from the ground.
Merle looked into Daryl's room only to find it empty. He knew well enough to know if Daryl wasn't in his room, he was out back. Continuing on his delivery route, Merle walked on until he reached Tyreese's room.
Tyreese sat on his bed looking over at his dresser, which was covered with dildos of all sizes, shapes, and colors. As Merle approached, Tyreese's eyes stayed locked on the sex toys.
Merle came into the room slowly, and followed Tyreese's eyes to the dresser. "It just ain't right, man." Tyreese said, shaking his head.
"You work in a whorehouse, jackass." He said, laughing. He grabbed Tyreese's bag of money and lined up the synthetic phalluses in his sight.
He tossed the bag underhanded, knocking all of the dildos off of the dresser. He wheezed a chuckle, "That's a strike." He said cheerily as he strutted out of the room and went on with his business, leaving Tyreese to look around the room at his bookshelf, which was also covered in dildos.
Next up was Dale, who was laying back on his bed, taking a nap. Merle looked up at the ceiling and smiled as he reached into his ammunition box and armed himself once more.
Merle underhanded the money so that the bag would launch to the ceiling, slam against it, and come down with a heavy force- right onto the sleeping man's face.
In a panic, Dale flipped himself off of the bed and landed on the floor clutching his face. Merle laughed for a minute before leaving with a quick, "Jackass!" to echo behind him.
Not bothering to stick around for the old man's sounds of pain, Merle continued on his crusade once more.
The bad part about Shane was that there was no way he would fall victim to Merle's throwing money game, so he just tossed the bag into his open room. He had bigger fish to fry anyway.
Daryl stood out in the backyard of the brothel, dressed in his usual sagging jeans and cut off flannel shirt. The yard around him held a surprisingly well maintained garden, one that was rarely visited by most of the housemates.
Daryl lined up his crossbow with his target; a large red target painted on the biggest tree in the yard. He'd already fired a shot, and was currently trying to shoot the arrow he'd already fired and land as close to it as possible.
Just as he was about to fire, something flew right in his point of view. In the blink of an eye, Daryl took aim at the flying object and fired. The object fell to the ground with a thud and Merle appeared beside him, "Nice shot, little brother," he said with a smile on his face.
Daryl walked over and recovered the object, which turned out to be his payment. His arrow was halfway stuck through the bag, and Daryl pulled it out with an angry huff. "What the hell, Merle?" Daryl asked, not really expecting an answer. "I know you hate payday, don't mean you have to throw the damn money," he grumbled.
Merle kept the smile on his face, but looked down at the blade that served in place of his hand. "Yeah, I know." Merle responded, "Just heard this morning you have an early appointment," Merle said, his smile fading as he looked over at his brother while he pulled the arrow from the bag. "Looks like you got yerself a regular, boy."
Daryl opened up the bag and pulled out his money, which had a good size hole in it, though he didn't see why it wouldn't be useable.
"Let me guess; Rick Grimes," Daryl grumbled as he tried to straighten out one of the bills.
"Mmhmm," Merle confirmed as he spit on the ground. Merle hooked his thumb around his belt and let the now empty money box fall to the ground. "He's a good customer to have," Merle said as he kicked at the box, "make sure you keep him happy, hmm?"
Daryl said nothing, he just tucked his money into his back pocket, reloaded his crossbow and fired again at the target on the tree trunk. Merle didn't expect his brother to answer, so he decided to leave it at that and walk back inside to his desk.
Sitting back down in his throne-like chair, a smirk spread across Merle's face as he thought how someone had framed Dale the other day. He'd known immediately it wasn't the old man's doing, he didn't have the backbone for it, and sure as hell wasn't stupid enough either.
Merle pulled out one of his desk drawers and opened his cigar box. He plucked a Cuban from the box along with the lighter he kept beside it before he closed the drawer and leaned back in his seat as he put the cigar between his lips and lit the end.
As smoke nearly billowed from his lips Merle leaned forward and pulled another, larger drawer open and let it remain so as he stared down into it.
He liked a lot of things about his job; he liked knowing what wives were cheating, which husbands were living a lie, the dirty kinks and secrets that were usually kept hidden away, he enjoyed toying with his employees, but mostly, Merle enjoyed his own payday.
He smiled down at the neatly packed stacks of revenue and etched another mark onto the desk with his blade.
Later that night, Daryl found himself leading Rick Grimes up the staircase and to his room. As he closed the door behind Rick, he sensed something different about the other man.
Rick walked past Daryl and deeper into the room. He kept his back to Daryl as he looked around at the furniture that he hadn't much cared about before but for some reason seemed captivated with now.
As Daryl locked the door, Rick turned back to him, "You hunt?" he asked as he pointed to Daryl's crossbow that was leaning against the side of his dresser.
Daryl shook his head slightly, not really finding why the hell that would matter. Rick nodded and ran his tongue over his lip quickly as he turned back to the crossbow. "I have a revolver collection at home," Daryl noticed suddenly that Rick was tense, very tense.
He stood awkwardly clutching his coat in one of his hands, running his thumb over it firmly. "You ever shoot or do you just keep 'em for show?" Daryl asked, not truly curious as to anything but as to why Rick was just now feeling shy. Usually it was the first time that clients are timid, not the second. At least with women that's how it was.
Daryl suddenly realized what made this time so different. For both of them.
Rick looked over at Daryl briefly, "I do, actually, shoot 'em, that is," he looked back to the crossbow as Daryl took a step closer, "only in practice, of course." Rick rambled.
Daryl came to stand right behind him. Rick closed his eyes and swallowed as his mouth went dry.
Rick could've played the first time off as a lapse in judgment, a decision made in a fit of betrayal, rage, resentment, it could've been a fit of insanity, even. He could play it off as a one-time thing.
Unless it happened a second time.
Then it would be because he wanted to, and there would be no playing it off.
Daryl stared at Rick's closed eyes as he spoke, "Merle only gives refunds if it's been less than five minutes," Rick turned his head slightly towards Daryl and opened his eyes, "by my count it's only been three."
Rick looked back at Daryl and stared for a moment before he tossed his coat onto a nearby chair. Daryl actually felt relieved. Daryl nodded a bit, "Alright then," he said, "take off your shirt."
Daryl moved past him toward his dresser and pulled out a couple condoms from his drawer. He turned to find Rick unbuttoning his plaid flannel shirt and letting it fall to the ground. He kicked off his boots and loosened his belt. Daryl tucked the condoms into his back pocket.
Just as Rick slid his belt off, Daryl pressed himself against his back. Daryl reached around just as he had the first time, and made short work of the button and zipper on Rick's jeans. Daryl's hand snaked itself beneath the hem of the denim and into Rick's boxers.
With nothing else to do with his hands, Rick grasped at Daryl's hips as they pushed harder against him. Rick's jaw clamped shut as Daryl's hand encompassed his dick in a firm hold.
Daryl could feel Rick hardening as he slowly began to stroke him in his jeans. He began to push himself against Rick's backside in rhythm with his strokes and soon the silence of the room was filled with heavy breathing and muffled grunts.
Daryl wasn't moving fast enough for Rick's liking, so he grabbed Daryl's hand and held it against him as he turned around and pushed Daryl back across the room until his back hit the wall.
Daryl's lips were practically smothered as Rick kissed him roughly. His hand was suddenly covered by Rick's and Rick began to pump himself at a much faster speed than before, using Daryl's hand to do it.
As Rick's tongue pushed itself into Daryl's mouth, Daryl began to work with Rick, pumping him relentlessly. Rick let go and cupped Daryl's half hard erection through his jeans as Daryl continued his ministrations.
Rick pushed his hand into Daryl's jeans and mirrored Daryl as he sucked on the pinned man's neck.
Daryl finally had enough and pushed Rick's pants down over his hips. He reached in his pocket and pushed Rick back off of him as he forced the condom into the other man's hand.
Neither one of them wasted time shredding the wrappers and sliding the rubbers on.
Just as Daryl finished, Rick pulled him forward off the wall by his cutoff shirt, which was then promptly ripped off and tossed aside.
Ricked pushed Daryl back on the bed and in a moment was standing at the foot of the bed, grabbing at the top of Daryl's jeans and pulling them off of him.
Rick leaned over him and forced him back against the bed with a deep kiss. Rick grasped Daryl's cock in his hand and began to jerk him off just as before. Daryl's head fell back against the bed and Rick's mouth took advantage by sucking at the same spot on Daryl's neck.
Daryl's hands came up to squeeze Rick's shoulders as a moan forced itself from his throat. Finding the opportunity irresistible, Rick leaned back and lined himself up with Daryl's entrance.
Daryl could feel Rick getting ready so he braced himself against the sheets. As Rick pushed into him, Daryl ground his teeth together and let out a small growl.
It was unpleasant, but it sure as hell wasn't pleasant, either. Especially when Rick thrust his full length into him and began to find a rhythm.
Daryl took hold of his cock and Rick put his fist into the bed for more stability as he moved into the man below him. Daryl pumped himself furiously in an attempt to drown out the foreign sensation of a man's dick inside him.
After a while though, he found himself moving with Rick, and using the same rhythm on himself. Rick grunted and buried his teeth lightly into Daryl's shoulder, in a few more thrusts, his body went rigid as he thrust once-twice more.
Daryl let out something of a breathless gasp as he felt a new heat inside of him at Rick's release. The sensation was enough to send him over the edge along with the man over him.
Rick pulled out and rolled over beside Daryl on the bed as the two regained their breath and energy. As Rick stared up at the ceiling, he felt Daryl's eyes on him.
Looking to the side he found himself locking eyes with Daryl, and he came to a realization.
The first time could've been a mistake, but a second time was deliberate.
Rick wondered what a third time would mean.
He wasn't the only one.
It wasn't often that Merle gave housemates nights off, but sometimes, he had no choice. Glenn had come down with a fever and he was a disgusting, nose-running, sweaty little mess. And no one wanted to fuck that.
And so, Glenn had been given the night off. But his night had been booked by a certain customer, and customers were not to be left unattended.
Tyreese sat in his dildo-infested room, trying to read and ignore the sounds that came from Shane's room. When a knock sounded at his door, he expected it to be Merle or maybe Dale.
He definitely didn't expect the governor who had now been made notorious around the brothel. As the tall man locked eyes with Tyreese, Tyreese wished he could disappear, or melt into the floor, or anything really.
When the deviant in his doorway peered over to the rows of dildos, Tyreese wished he could just flat out die.