Chapter Thirteen
Shane and Daryl spent the night in the latter's truck, a sweaty heap curled comfortably together, with a blanket warding off the brisk spring air, and Rick sprawled across the vinyl seating in the interior. At Rick's behest, they dropped him off on the other side of town, since the teen was determined to work out his frustration with as many of Shane's cheerleader fan girls it took to make him forget all about Lori and her bullshit. Daryl and Shane figured they'd give him a good eight hours then come corral him back home. He deserved that, at the very least.
Instead of retiring immediately back to the Grimes' house, Daryl and Shane rode around town in companionable silence, watching the uninhabited early-morning world roll by their windows.
With his eyes shut and all his attention fixated on the slow rumble of the truck's engine, Shane felt, more than saw, Daryl's gaze on the side of the face. He felt the stress and uncertainty in Daryl's form. Keeping his eyes closed, Shane paid careful attention to the stutter in his partner's breathing as the boy tried and failed to say whatever was on his mind. So Shane reached out a hand between them, petting the skin at Daryl's hips and letting him figure it out in his own time.
"What we did last night..." Daryl finally began, and Shane wasn't remotely surprised. Then he corrected himself, "What you did, to that girl...is...is that how you wish things were with me? Is that how you—is that how you wanna...fuck me?"
It wasn't quite what Shane had expected, so he took the time to softly stroke Daryl's neck before answering. "I don't wanna fuck you, Daryl."
He saw the flash of hurt pass across Daryl's eyes, and immediately wanted to kick himself in the shins for his obvious mistake.
"I want you," Shane amended, "But I don't wanna fuck you, Daryl. Fuck ain't the right word."
"So what...'make love'?" Daryl asked him, spitting out the words as if they were sour in his mouth.
"That's closer, but it still ain't quite right."
"What, then?"
"I wanna...I wanna love on you. Wanna make you feel good. Make you mine. That bitch last night? She was nothin' to me. Couldn't have given less of a shit whether she got off. But you're different, man. Shit with you is different. You gotta know that by now."
Daryl brooded on that for a moment, gnawing at his lip and staring up at the ceiling. "I dunno if I'm ever gonna be able to do...that, for you," he eventually muttered. Even for you, Shane heard.
Shane breathed out a quiet laugh. "Well, am I askin' ya to?"
Daryl frowned harder at the road. "...No."
"Then stop fuckin' worrying!" Shane soothed him jokingly, "If I'd been in this to hit it and quit it, I woulda given up months ago, Daryl. And it ain't like my needs ain't being met, one way or another."
For once, Daryl looked him straight in the eye, lips immobile but expression practically screaming: Are you sure?
And if experience had taught him anything, Shane knew that with Daryl Dixon, actions spoke louder than words. With a plan in mind, Shane abruptly asked, "So who gives better head?"
"You know you do, Shane," Daryl sighed with only a hint of amusement in his voice, and cheeks already coloring to an enticing rosy hue.
Shane shot him one of his rare smiles, both devious and affectionate. "That was the right fuckin' answer."
Eyes darting back to Shane, Daryl suddenly realized that Shane had been subtly scooting towards him as they talked, and was now seated only inches away from him on the slick seats.
"Shane, what are you—"
"You know exactly what I'm doin', Daryl," Shane interrupted, making the intent of his statement all the more obvious when he reached over to the younger boy's lap.
Daryl sucked in a sharp breath, and his knuckles went white as he clutched the wheel.
"I'm...m'drivin'," Daryl argued weakly, but he couldn't hide his growling bulge from Shane's knowing hands.
"I see that," Shane murmured, now stroking Daryl's denim-clad erection outright. "And you're doin' such a good job of it. Thought I might show my appreciation."
"But, but I—"
"There ain't no one around," Shane drawled lowly, "And if you're so sure I give the best head, m'thinkin' I oughta give ya what you been wantin' so badly. Since last night I made ya go without."
"Yeah," Daryl whispered, and one hand met Shane's at his waist, pushing him to flick open his belt. "Fuck..."
"Just keep those pretty eyes on the road, Daryl," Shane said as he began to stroke the teen slowly, "I ain't lookin' to be found dead with your dick in my mouth."
Daryl snorted out a ludicrous noise that quickly became a moan when Shane's mouth descended seamlessly down onto his aching cock.
The sun still hadn't managed to rise much past the tops of the trees, and they were travelling down a dirt road that led into a seemingly uninhabited neck of the woods, but Daryl couldn't help but glance around wildly as Shane's tongue began to lave and writhe. The scorching, slick heat was already too much, and Daryl had to fight not to let his eyes slam shut.
"Shane, fuck Shane," Daryl whimpered, after a particularly deep pot-hole lodged his cock as deep in Shane's throat as it would go.
In response, Shane moaned around his length, and wanted to smile widely when Daryl's hips gave a plaintive buck and the teen let out a particularly high-pitched whine.
Daryl wanted desperately to watch what Shane was doing to him, to thread his fingers in Shane's dark locks and fuck up into that welcoming mouth until he saw stars. But every twist of the road came out of nowhere, and even a momentary lapse in attention could get them both killed. His pants and moans filled the small space of the truck bed, and Daryl's whole body rocked forward in tiny increments to accompany Shane's brutal pace.
"Jesus fuck," Daryl moaned, "Shane, Jesus, Shane!"
He was hanging from the precipice, entire body pulled tight and begging to be snapped in half. But then with one final flick of his tongue over Daryl's reddened head, Shane pulled off with a pop, licking his lips lewdly and watching Daryl pant and groan in frustration without an ounce of shame.
"Shane, why—?"
But Daryl's answered the question for himself when Shane leaned down low in the seat, and in a practiced move, unsheathed his heavy cock and began to fist himself leisurely.
"Shane—"
"Keep driving," Shane demanded. He propped one leg up on the dash, shimmying his jeans down until they sat just under his hips.
"Fuckin' tease," Daryl complained begrudgingly, cock spit-slick and aching, still pointing up towards his belly button.
"Ain't teasin' nothin'," Shane grunted, hand moving faster over his own thick flesh, "You'll get yours. Ain't polite to be selfish, Daryl. Now- eyes on the road."
Out of his periphery, Daryl watched as Shane licked a wet stripe over his hand, and then continued to stroke himself hard and fast, keeping his eyes fixed on Daryl's flushed face. Every groan Shane let loose had Daryl's cock twitching painfully, and when Shane began to rock his hips up to meet his hand, Daryl couldn't suppress his low whimper.
"Yeah, you like that, don't you Daryl?" Shane rumbled, "You fuckin' love watchin' me. Love it when I make you wait."
He rubbed his palm rapidly over the head, grunting with every pass.
"Someday you're gonna let me tie you up. Get you panting and moaning, can't even touch yourself, just gotta wait for me to get you off. But only if you're good, huh? Only if you make a bunch of those sexy little noises I like, and tell me how bad you want it. Bet you'd fuckin' love that, wouldn't you Daryl? Splayed out for me. Fuck."
Daryl's cock jumped and throbbed along with the visual Shane was painting, and he had to bite at his lower lip hard to keep from begging the way he wanted to. He wasn't the kind of guy who'd want...that...he just wasn't. Dixons didn't do that shit. But he couldn't really deny that his dick fucking loved it.
"How ya gonna get me off? If I can't move, or touch ya?" Daryl asked quietly. Even from the corner of his eye, he couldn't ignore the way Shane's grin grew ten sizes when he realized he'd managed to engage the younger boy.
"Mmm I'd start by gettin' me some nice, soft rope. The kind made outta leather, or silk. I'd bring you back to my place, got the house all to ourselves, and I'd lay you out on my bed. On your back- wanna see ya. I'd tie you up real pretty for me. First your hands, up above your head. Then your legs, spread wide as they'll go. Then I'd get that sexy cock of yours too, wrap it up nice and pretty. Yeah, that way I'd have ya hard and achin' for as long as I wanted. Fuck, bet you'd love that, huh Daryl? Could have at ya for hours that way," Shane moaned anew at his own words, his own erection an angry red under his ministrations.
"What if—what if I needed to come?" Daryl whispered, eyes plastered on the road in front of them. He knew he couldn't take this much longer.
"Fuck, I wouldn't let ya. Not 'til you're beggin' for it- Please, Shane. Please let me come. Then I'd shove my fingers up that pert little ass of yours, fuck you 'til you're screaming. Ah, fuck. Fuck, Daryl. M'gonna come. Gonna come on your fuckin' dash, man. Ah, Daryl. Fuck!"
Streaks of white erupted from Shane's cock as he groaned and shook, painting the dash in his spunk. When the lights behind his eyes finally dimmed, Shane glanced over at Daryl, and found him rocking involuntarily into the air, panting and gripping the wheel hard enough to snap the metal in two.
"Shane, Shane, c'mon..." Daryl mumbled.
"Pull over," Shane ordered gruffly, and Daryl was all to enthusiastic to obey, nearly flipping the car in his rush to get them to the side of the road. As soon as he'd shifted to park, he practically launched himself at Shane, but the larger boy pushed him back with two hands, and laughed when Daryl could only let out a needy whine.
"Not so fast. Out of the car, Daryl."
In his desperate state, it only took Daryl a moment's hesitation to comply, shuffling out of the vehicle and standing uncertainly at its head. His cock twitched in the open air, throbbing in Shane's direction as the older boy rounded the truck to stand directly in front of him.
"Thattaboy, now I want you to lean back against the hood and watch what I do to you," Shane growled, sinking down to his knees. Daryl panted above him, blue eyes set on Shane's predatory snarl. "You're mine. And I take good care of what's mine."
He swallowed Daryl back down, and the younger Dixon's brain shorted out, blinded by the sheer relief of finally earning Shane's touch. Pleasure flooded his system, and every second he'd had to watch and wait came back to Daryl all at once, shoving him helplessly towards release.
"Shane, I'm gonna, Shane, Shane!" Daryl groaned, before coming hard down the jock's throat, moaning loudly up at the sky and hardly caring who heard. Leaning back on his elbows against the hood, it took Daryl a good minute to wrench open his eyes. And when he did, Shane was watching him closely, greedily licking his lips in search of any trace of Daryl.
Shane finally moved in to kiss Daryl firmly, rolling the younger boy's taste around in both of their mouths.
"Let's get you home."
TWDTWDTWDTWD
Rick wasn't too hard to locate. And as it turned out, he hadn't been successful in bagging any of the suitable girls Shane had pointed out to him. They returned home without any lecture or needless panic, since for once, the Grimes had known exactly where their kids were, if not what they were doing there.
Rick swiftly slipped into his room and slammed the door shut, determined to wallow for a good while, without the butting in of Shane, Daryl, or least of all his parents. And Shane followed Daryl loyally inside, earning a look from Sheriff Grimes that was made up of neither surprise nor disgust, just a subtle sort of contentment and maybe curiosity. He caught Shane's eye, and they shared a brief nod. Shane knew that there was an awkward talk looming in his imminent future, but figured he ought to count himself lucky that he'd put it off for this long.
They finished up their homework, played video games, and generally just bummed around the house until Mrs. Grimes called everyone for dinner. And sitting around the table, with things finally feeling as normal as could be, the doorbell rang once. And then again. And then six times in succession.
Sheriff Grimes let out an exasperated sigh and went to answer the door.
When it swung open, Rick's father had only the time to sputter a frustrated "What the—?!" before the man pushed past him into the house and strode right up to the dining room table. He had a broad build, and a grin that would have been smug even at the foot of God, pleading entry to those pearly gates. His hair was buzzed short and brown, and his eyes were as blue as the Georgia sky.
"Now, how's about a hug for your big brother, Darleena?"