Chapter Two

Shane woke up grinning, actually fucking grinning in disbelief at the circumstances. He was sprawled out in Daryl's bed, in boxers and a T-shirt with the archer himself laying beside him in just as little clothing, and fast asleep. For all the time he'd spent ignoring his chronic problem, then cursing himself for it, then fantasizing about it at length, Shane never thought he'd get the chance to act on it.

Not with Daryl Dixon, the guy who shunned him and everyone else the moment his mom died. Not with the guy who snapped like a dieting housewife at the smallest of comments, lashing out at the closest warm body. Not with the guy he'd been in fights with every other week since middle school, purposefully he might add, and who Shane knew, without a shadow of a doubt, hated his guts.

It had been a miracle in and of itself when he'd convinced Daryl to share the damn bed with him, rather than sleep on the cold floor. They'd argued about it for damn near half an hour before Shane had cornered the skittish archer and jabbed him not-too-softly in the abs, just hard enough to make his point.

"You're hurt," Shane had told him, "Sleeping on the floor is just gonna fuck you up worse." The bed wasn't exactly large. It was a full size, just big enough for two men of their size to squeeze in side by side. But nonetheless, Daryl relented, hanging his head a bit and crawling into bed alongside Shane. He must be drunker than I thought, Shane had thought amusedly, but he didn't let the knowledge ruin his moment. Instead, he pulled the blanket up over the both of them and managed to make his breathing slow and easy. In no time at all, Daryl's soft snores aligned with his own, and the archer was out like a light.

Shane realized all too late that he shouldn't have started shit with Daryl- not yesterday of all days. And despite Shane's current locale, he still found himself regretting it. But hell, when he'd gone up to Daryl the previous morning, it hadn't been out of malice at all. He knew good and well that he was the only one who remembered what that day meant. Anyone else Daryl had spent time with as a kid had given up long ago, but Shane held out the longest, hoping upon hope that he could break through to the boy who used to be one of his best friends, but had retreated so far into himself that Shane barely recognized him. All he wanted was to say something to Daryl, something reassuring or kind to try and make up for all the bullshit he'd spouted in the boy's direction in the past.

But Daryl had just flat out ignored him. In front of everyone, the whole goddamn school, the archer had pretended he couldn't hear him or see him as he walked towards the front door. "Hey man, how are you?" had been Shane's brilliant opening line. He saw now how Daryl might have taken it as something sarcastic or baiting, but he'd meant it sincerely. Daryl had glowered angrily at him and shoved him away. Not particularly roughly, and not with a fraction of the strength Shane knew from experience that Daryl possessed. But just enough to get the message across.

Unfortunately, Shane couldn't let that go. Not with so many onlookers, and with his ego shattered to pieces, alongside his hopes for renewing their friendship. A dig at Daryl's truck didn't get a response. The younger Dixon brother hardly batted an eye when Shane mocked his clothes. But that comment about his Dad…it was too far, and just far enough. There was a brief moment where Daryl met his eyes in disbelief, and what Shane saw there made him want to take it all back.

Hurt. He'd fucking hurt Daryl. The statement had hit home, somehow. And after last night, Shane had his suspicions of why. But he also knew well enough that Daryl wouldn't want to talk about it. There was a good chance he'd go bolting out of the room as soon as he woke up, blinded by shame. But that moment the night before when Daryl had finally trusted Shane to touch him, had been far too thrilling for Shane to give up on easily. He wanted more. So much more.

There was a small sound from beside him, no less than a whimper, and Shane refocused his attention on the sleeping boy. But one short glance told Shane that Daryl was not sleeping soundly. His face was scrunched up into something like agony, and his body kept twitching inwards, trying to curl itself smaller in fear of whatever dreams were tormenting him.

Shane reached out to touch Daryl's shoulder, hoping to wake him gradually, but the smallest of touches had the opposite effect. Daryl bolted up in bed, eyes darting around wildly and chest heaving.

"Woah, Daryl, you're okay man. You're fine," Shane tried, but the words didn't make it through. He'd never seen the surly archer look so terrified before. He was shaking all over, and struggling to breathe.

Against his better judgment, and abandoning any sense of self-preservation he might have had, Shane decided to intervene. Moving quickly, he slipped in behind Daryl and wrapped his arms around his trembling body, forcing him flush against his chest and crooking one leg over Daryl's lower half so he couldn't escape.

"No, lemme go! Lemme go!" Daryl cried, wheezing audibly and thrashing within the larger boy's grip.

"Not gonna do that, man. You're okay, Daryl. It was just a dream. I just need you to breathe," Shane replied calmly.

"No, no, no, no," Daryl babbled still scratching at Shane's arms, "Stop. S-stop Shane. I didn't mean to. Didn't mean to I swear! Lemme go, please don't, don't do this, please!"

Shane only held him tighter, reasonably sure at this point that Daryl wasn't fully awake yet.

"Shh, you're alright," he hummed softly in Daryl's ear, "You're safe, man. No one's gonna hurt ya. Just gonna hold on until you calm down, okay?

Daryl whimpered, but gradually stopped fighting to break Shane's hold. His head canted to one side, cheek pressed above Shane's heart, as he slowly regained himself. Shane watched with fascination as Daryl's trembling abated, and his breathing normalized. And all the while, he stroked softly over Daryl's messy locks, whispering reminders in his ear that he was safe.

"That's it, man. That's good," Shane praised him. "You gonna be okay, now?"

"Mm," Daryl grunted lowly, making no move to unweave himself from Shane's body. From his position, Shane could see Daryl's eyes were closed tightly, and his cheeks blotchy and red.

"That happen a lot?" Shane asked him.

He felt, more than saw, Daryl shrug noncommittally.

"M'glad I was here then," Shane murmured. A moment later, he felt Daryl's body tense up.

"Fuck," Daryl whispered, trying to pull himself away from Shane. The older boy might have asked Daryl what was wrong, but the question was answered for him when one of Daryl's hands shot down towards his crotch. Daryl winced when it made contact and cursed under his breath once more.

"Shit, s'been hours, ain't it?" Shane said, "We slept a good while. Next time we've gotta set an alarm or somethin' so it doesn't get this bad."

Daryl squeaked in genuine surprise when he felt Shane reach down to squeeze his half-hard dick. But Shane didn't allow him to squirm away, and when he began to stroke Daryl's cock firmly, caress Daryl's chest with his free hand, the archer stopped struggling entirely.

"Shane, ya don't gotta…" Daryl whispered uncertainly, but the dark-haired boy only hushed him, tightening his fist around Daryl's length and memorizing the surprised moan the gesture elicited.

"Want to, man," Shane assured him, "But fuck, this ain't gonna take long at all, is it? You're already leaking all over my hand."

Daryl's hips bucked up into Shane's grasp and he groaned lowly. The mingling of pain and pleasure was distressing, even more so now that Daryl found himself craving it. He pushed his face into Shane's bicep and tried to stifle the sounds escaping from his throat.

"What would you have done if I wasn't here, huh Daryl? Wouldn't have taken much. Maybe you would have gotten into the shower, gotten that cock of yours all soapy and wet and let it slide between your fingers until you shot off against the wall."

Daryl let out an embarrassed huff that quickly became a moan when Shane twisted the palm of his hand over the sensitive head. "Fuck, fuck Shane…" Daryl whispered. He hated himself for enjoying this. Dixons ain't fags, that's what his brother would say. But no one had ever bothered to touch him this gently before, or to murmur into his ear the way Shane had mastered. And if he was being really honest, it felt good to be pressed up against the larger boy, safely encompassed in his arms. It felt more than good, even with the hardening presence of Shane's cock pressing more and more insistently into his lower back.

"Or maybe you would have stayed right here in bed, laid out on your belly with your legs spread wide, fucking your dick into the sheets until you made a mess of yourself."

"Shane," Daryl groaned desperately, "Shane, I'm gonna—"

"Yeah, I know you are man. Can feel how hard you are for it. And you're gonna do it for me, aren't you, Daryl?"

"Fuck, fuck, oh fuck," Daryl panted before finally arching up into Shane's lap and shooting all over his own chest. He forced his cock into the tightness of Shane's fist, over and over until he finally collapsed back against the larger boy, spent. He pushed his face into the warm fabric of Shane's shirt, panting hot puffs of air against him and keeping his eyes shut tight. Any other time, he might have been humiliated by how fast he'd lost control. But the relief of release was so intense that Daryl couldn't be bothered to care.

"Bet that took the edge off, huh?" Shane cooed, and Daryl nodded complacently. To their mutual surprise, Daryl let out a soft, disproving hum when Shane went to slide out from underneath him, helping Daryl to carefully lay back, propped up by the pillows.

There was an air of suspicion in the archer's eyes as he watched Shane knee-walk his way down the bed, situating himself between Daryl's splayed legs and cocking an eyebrow to betray his intent.

"What are you doin', Shane? I already-"

Daryl choked on his words when Shane's mouth descended and engulfed his deflating member. The bliss of experiencing his first blow job was immediately negated by the overwhelming sensation of tongue stroking already frazzled nerves.

"Shane, stop. Please stop. S'too much!" Daryl groaned, and tried his best to get away. But Shane pressed two hands to his hips and held him still, mouth bobbing slowly, softly, and bringing his cock back to life whether he liked it or not.

It was intense. Shane's mouth was hot and wet and his lips formed a perfect ring around Daryl's length. Daryl wanted to beg him to stop, wanted to claim with any amount of conviction that he just wouldn't be able to get off again. But maybe the nurse's words had been truer than he hoped, because his cock was only getting harder, and Shane's mouth just kept bobbing and stroking and milking him until he couldn't breathe.

Shane could sense the moment that discomfort turned to bliss for the archer below him. A whole different type of tension radiated off of Daryl's body, and his hips began to stutter up of their own volition, seeking out the tight, wet heat that he wasn't accustomed to. On either side of Shane's head, Daryl's legs were trembling, spread wide but twitching violently inwards each time Shane swiped his tongue over the sensitive ridge running just under the head.

He glanced up from between Daryl's legs, and found him breathing hard, biting at his lower lip and watching Shane intently, with those piercing blue eyes of his. Shane moaned in appreciation of the sight, and Daryl let out a desperate moan of his own at the sensation. Both of his hands went to Shane's hair as he threw his head back into the pillow.

Shane pulled off with a slick pop and stroked with his hand, taking the time to lick slowly at his lips, now that he had Daryl's full attention. He smirked to himself when he saw the poor kid couldn't even breathe right.

"Guess I'm your first blow job too, huh Daryl?" The shock and lust etched all over the smaller teen's face was enough of a confirmation. "Fuck, that's hot. Being the first one to see you like this. The only one if I get my way, and you know I always do."

He twisted his fist around the head, with just enough pressure to be teasing, and Daryl bucked up into his hand.

"Yeah, you wanna come again, don't you? Already got you off with my hand, and now I'm gonna do it with my mouth too. You need it bad, huh Daryl? Need my mouth on your cock…" Shane groaned at his own words, moving one hand down to palm his hard length through the thin cotton of his boxers.

"Bet you're wondering how I'm gonna do it, ain't that right Daryl? Whether I'll pull off just in time so I can watch you shoot all over yourself, or if I'll shove that cock of yours all the way down my throat, swallow down every last drop…fuck, I can hardly decide myself. You got an opinion on the matter?"

Shane had his own cock out now, and was stroking it slowly as he watched Daryl squirm under his caresses. Feeling mischievous, Shane abruptly dropped both hands from Daryl's body, and instead refocused his efforts on his own pleasure. He smiled at the affronted, anxious expression on Daryl's face. But Shane wasn't going to give in easy. No, he wanted to hear Daryl say it.

"What's wrong, man? If ya weren't into it ya could have just said so," Shane mocked, using two hands on his length and fucking into his own grip.

"Shane…" Daryl whispered uncertainly, and hell, that was a start. Probably all the eloquence the kid could muster under the circumstances.

"Well hey, you weren't exactly being too responsive when I was going at it, now were you?" Shane reached out and wrapped two fingers around Daryl's twitching cock and stroked ever so lightly over the sensitive glands. "You like it when I touch you? Is that what you want?"

His hand halted its movement and Daryl let out a huff of distress. "Ain't gonna do it unless you tell me you want it, Daryl."

Daryl seemed to have to bite at his lip for several moments in order to gather the nerve, but eventually he murmured, "I- I want it. Want you…want you to touch me, Shane."

Shane gave him a wide grin, "All you had to do was ask." He ducked his head back down and lapped at the head, smiling even wider when Daryl all but mewed underneath him, hands fumbling to grasp at his dark locks.

But then Shane's tongue descended just a small degree farther south, and Daryl's muscles locked up in fear. "Shane, d-don't. It'll hurt."

"Naw man, it'll feel really good, I promise. Ain't gonna hurt ya, Daryl. Done enough of that for a lifetime," Shane promised. And before Daryl could really grasp the meaning behind his words, Shane's tongue was lapping carefully over his swollen balls, soaking them in spit and drawing designs across the taut skin.

"Haa- holy shit," Daryl groaned. "Fuck, Shane…that's…oh, fuck…" Any worry of pain was quickly replaced by startling pleasure, the kind Daryl could hardly ride out without screaming loud and long just to release some of the building pressure. Shane spent another couple minutes laving the battered orbs with attention, an apology in and of itself, before mouthing his way back up to Daryl's pulsing dick and quickly sucking the organ down to the hilt.

"Nnngh!" Daryl moaned through his teeth. Shane could taste how close Daryl was, how his cock felt heavier than before, hotter. Pre-cum slicked over the back of his tongue, and Shane sped his pace on both Daryl and himself. Shane hit the point of no return faster than he expected, and quite suddenly, he was coming against the sheets, moaning around the cock in his mouth and forcing Daryl all the way down his throat.

The vibrations of Shane's orgasm were enough to shove Daryl dramatically over the edge. He threw his head back and moaned loudly into the air, more desperate than Shane had heard him yet, and pumped his cock into Shane's mouth. Daryl came hard, and whimpered when the muscles of Shane's throat fluttered around his length in an effort to swallow him down.

When they eventually calmed, Daryl found himself watching Shane closely, trying to understand whatever was going on in the older boys' head. Daryl had never thought he'd get the chance to experience, or that he'd even be able to tolerate, the kind of attention Shane had shown him over the last 24 hours. And he wanted it more now than he'd ever admit aloud. But the fear of Shane ripping the rug out from under him was growing constantly. That voice in the back of his head that told him no one would ever care about him, that everyone left eventually, whispered incessantly to him that he should leave first. Run, it said.

"Shane," Daryl said softly, "Why are you still here?"

Shane frowned slightly, but easily identified the insecurity in Daryl's tone. "'Cuz I wanna be, man. I mean seriously, y'ain't figured it out by now?"

"Figured what out?"

Shane propped himself up on an elbow. "This," he said, indicating between the two of them, "Been wantin' this for a while."

He could have laughed at how confused Daryl was by his statement.

"But you hate me."

"No I don't, man. Ya fuckin' frustrate me. Wantin' shit you can't have is frustratin'."

"Why you always startin' fights with me then?"

"Why do you think? You see me wrestlin' with any other guys out in the schoolyard? Fightin' s'better than nothin'."

Daryl brooded on that for a moment. "I ain't a fag," he muttered.

And to his surprise, Shane barked out a laugh. "Man that ain't what I'm sayin'."

"You ain't one. People at school talk, ya been with plenty of girls," Daryl pointed out.

"I have," Shane confirmed, "And I like girls plenty. But they ain't the only thing I want. Don't want you to get the wrong idea, man. Ain't like I'm lookin' at every guy that passes my way. S'far as I can tell, it's just you. But I've looked at you plenty."

"So…what do ya want from me?" Daryl asked him. Everything, Shane immediately thought, but he kept that gut reaction to himself.

"Whatever you wanna give, man. And no more than that. The stuff we've done so far, you're good with it?"

Daryl sighed and rubbed at his eyes, "Mm," he grunted affirmatively. Shane studied the bags under his eyes, the careful way he was holding his body. Daryl was probably still hurting from yesterday, and emotionally spent from the nightmare, and the panic attack that had followed. Hell, the stuff he and Shane had done probably hadn't helped either. Daryl looked more wrapped up in his head now than Shane had ever seen him.

"Why dontcha just go back to sleep awhile, okay? You could use it." Shane moved to get off the bed.

"You're leavin'?" Daryl immediately questioned, and Shane stopped in his tracks at the look of alarm tarnishing the boy's face. Daryl sat straight up in bed, wincing at the sudden movement.

"No, no man," Shane shushed him, pushing at Daryl's chest until he tentatively lay back down. "Just getting somethin' to clean us off. I ain't goin' nowhere. Ya don't gotta worry about that." Shane sighed, and figured, fuck it, we can always wash the sheets. He crawled back into bed beside Daryl, helping the boy to roll onto his side and then molding his body against Daryl's skinny form. The archer went tense for a moment, disarmed by the closeness, before visibly giving in to the warmth, and relaxing against Shane and the bed.

"Sorry," Daryl began to rasp, "For…"

"Don't worry about it, man. Just sleep," Shane demanded gently, and Daryl complied.