A/N: Ok. I thought about breaking this into two chapters. I really did. But you guys would have hated me, and I would have hated me, and it just didn't feel right. So this baby is a monster. But an awesome monster at that, so do enjoy x
Chapter Seventeen
"Please."
Daryl's voice cracked, but he managed to get it out nonetheless. And in the half-second after, Daryl's eyes dropped from Shane's face down to the floor, wary, timid, and more fearful of rejection than he could remember being in years. And god, he just wanted to go back to the way things were before. Back when Shane would take care of him without looking for anything in return, and without Daryl ever being forced to ask.
Shane took a small step forward, and Daryl couldn't help but flinch. This was the part that always hurt the most—that tense space of air just before the "No." But Daryl's body felt like it was about to cave in on itself, and his vocal chords had apparently hit their quota of use for the day, so the younger boy stood with his shoulders slumped and stared blankly at the ground, waiting.
"Daryl," Shane finally whispered, but the other boy wouldn't look at him. Still too afraid to see that expression telling him in sure terms that he had nowhere left to turn. That Shane didn't want him anymore.
It was lucky for the both of them that Shane was never the type to give up easy. He took another step forward, and reached out to Daryl, pressing his hands into either of the boy's shoulders and trying to ground him.
"Daryl," Shane tried again, "Are you hurt? You just have to tell me where, okay? Tell me where and I can help."
Daryl shook his head numbly, still refusing to look up. But Shane made the choice for him, pushing two fingers under his chin and forcing the younger boy to finally meet his eye. Finally, Daryl saw that Shane seemed panicked, eyes wide and afraid, and Daryl couldn't quite figure out why.
"Where are you hurt, Daryl?" Shane said once more, and it was only then that Daryl noticed the other boy's hands were shaking a little.
The younger Dixon managed to whisper, "M'not."
But that didn't seem to sate the boy in front of him. Shane frowned hard, "But Daryl, the blood..."
Daryl followed Shane's gaze downwards, and when the harsh crimson finally filled his vision, reality hit hard. He stumbled back a step, smacking his shoulder into the wall as his heart began to hammer against his chest and his breathing stopped entirely.
No, no, no, no...
Daryl scratched at his skin with enough ferocity to leave angry red lines in his wake. Some of the dry blood flaked to the floor, but the rest stubbornly clung to his body. He could feel it spreading, mapping out every inch of skin until it poured down his throat and gnawed away at him from the inside out.
Gotta get it off. Gotta get it off, gotta get it—
"Daryl!"
Shane's hands were on him again, herding him inside none too gently and finally shutting the front door.
"Gotta—I've gotta—" Daryl managed to croak, but Shane cut him off, already guiding him into the back of the house.
"I know, man. I know. It's okay. We'll just go take a shower, alright? You and me. You're fine now. You're here," Shane told him lowly. And even though Daryl's eyes were still trained on the ground, he didn't put up a fight.
Shane pumped up the hot water before turning back to Daryl, who was standing half-inside the doorway and glaring at the ground as if it had personally affronted him.
"C'mon," Shane said, pulling Daryl the rest of the way into the room and shutting the door. "C'mon, Daryl. It's okay."
The younger Dixon shivered violently as Shane began to undress him, stripping off the blood-soaked clothes and surveying his skin carefully for any signs of damage. Shane skimmed out of his own clothing in a rush and held out a hand towards Daryl.
"C'mon," Shane urged him, "Let's just get you clean, okay? One thing at a time."
And even though Daryl didn't look up, he took Shane's proffered hand and stepped gingerly under the water, trembling even though he was far from cold, and looking anywhere but Shane's eyes. But after months of random, sustained silences from Daryl, a few moments of it didn't faze Shane at all.
"That's it," Shane praised him lowly as he massaged shampoo into Daryl's scalp. He stood compliantly, facing Shane, while the other boy carefully cleaned and massaged every inch of his skin. Shane murmured all the while, making sure to keep his tone soft and easy.
And when the last of the blood swirled down the drain, Shane very carefully closed the distance between the two of them, pressed his body into Daryl's solid form, and shoved his face into the archer's neck. Daryl didn't hesitate to wrap his arms tightly around Shane's back, still trying to curtail the barely-concealed shaking.
They stood in cautious silence for several minutes, before Shane pulled his head back to look Daryl over once again. With an infinitesimal twitch of Shane's eyebrow, Daryl conceded to finally unwind himself from Shane's heady presence, and allow the older boy to lead him out of the shower and to someplace warm and dry.
Daryl leaned back against Shane's desk, with a towel wrapped around his waist and another around Shane's, while the other boy toweled his hair dry.
"We needed money," Daryl abruptly rasped, and Shane put down the towel to give his full attention. "Merle said we had to do a job, with some guy he knew from lockup. Jewelry store…with a guard. They knocked him out first, but then when we were loading up the truck, the guard woke up and tried to stop is. Cash shot him; didn't even think twice 'bout it. And I tried—I tried to help him—fuck—and there was so much blood and I tried—but Merle wouldn't call the cops and the guard was just lookin' at me and I didn't know what to do, was just tryin' to stop the bleeding—then Cash came up behind me and shot the guy in the head. He just…he just killed him."
Daryl released a shuddering sigh and wrapped his arms around his middle. "Dropped Merle off at some motel. Then…then I got in my truck, and came here."
When he looked up, Shane was nodding to himself with a resolute expression.
"Alright," Shane murmured, taking a step toward Daryl. "Alright," he said in a firmer voice, "Here's what we're gonna do. Tomorrow mornin' we clean out your truck with bleach. Make sure that if the cops ever get that far, they ain't gonna find nothin'. Then I'll call Rick and tell him you came back home yesterday afternoon. You understand me?Afternoon. And you were with me all night, Daryl. Okay?"
Daryl stared at him blankly for a moment, then seemed to recover, and shook his head rapidly.
"You can't do that," Daryl whispered in a rush, and Shane opened his mouth to speak, but Daryl cut him off again. "No. You ain't goin' to jail for me. You can't, Shane. I won't let you. I ain't worth it."
"You are worth it," Shane said fiercely, "You're worth a hell of a lot more. This, it's worth it to keep you safe. To keep you here."
He sounded desperate. More determined and confident in his words than Daryl had ever heard him. But it didn't make sense because who the hell would risk the rest of their life, their freedom, for Daryl Dixon? The younger boy's eyes darted back and forth across Shane's face with blinding speed, searching for something, trying to understand.
"I don't get it," Daryl finally breathed out.
"Don't get what?" Shane asked.
"You! Doin' all this for me! Sayin' stuff like that. I don't get it, Shane," Daryl insisted, and he was on his feet, pacing the room.
"Daryl," Shane tried to soothe, "You mean somethin' to me. You've gotta know that."
"I don't!" Daryl shouted. And then more quietly, the truth he never wanted to let slip, "M'nothin'."
Shane's pupils darkened to inky points. "Is that somethin' he told you?" the boy snarled. And Daryl wasn't sure if he was referring to Merle, or his dad, or every other asshole in his life that had beat him down and let him know just how worthless he was. But at this point, it didn't matter. They'd been right.
Daryl's silence was response enough.
"Fuck them!" Shane suddenly shouted, making Daryl jump slightly. "Fuck them, Daryl. They were wrong. I don't care if I have to spend the rest of my life convincin' you but I swear to god I will. Because they were fuckin' wrong. You're worth everything to me.Everything, okay?"
Daryl watched him for a beat, watched Shane's expression shift between anger and frustration and care. The next words out of his mouth made Shane flinch hard.
"Hit me."
Shane took a step closer, cautious as if he were approaching a wild animal. "Daryl, what—"
"Hit me, you want to," Daryl persisted, "You should hate me. I left—you should fuckin' hate me. So hit me. Show me. I just wanna get it over with—"
"Stop."
Shane grasped Daryl by his biceps, pinning him to the wall with his body and holding him steady with his gaze.
"I'm not gonna hit you," Shane told him slowly, "I can't hit you, Daryl. And I can't hate you. Trust me, I fucking tried. But I can't."
"Why?" Daryl questioned, voice cracking.
Shane released him and took a small step back. "Go get your phone."
Daryl cocked an eyebrow at him.
"You wanna know why? Check your voicemail," Shane explained in a tone that was almost defeated, but also somewhat nervous.
Daryl did as he said, picking his phone up off of the desk and holding it up to his ear.
You have 6 new messages.
New messagefrom Rick Grimes at 4:01 PM on Tuesday, April 3rd: Daryl? Hey so I got home and you aren't here…and neither is any of your stuff… Fuck, look whatever you're thinking of doing just don't, alright? We can figure this shit with your brother out, just come home. You're family, Daryl; you don't have to do this. We all want you here. Call me back, okay?
New messagefrom Sheriff Grimes at 4:18 PM on Tuesday, April 3rd: Daryl…I know what happened with your brother the other night wasn't ideal, but we can find a way to work through it. I'll be keeping a close eye on him, but I promise you son, I won't ask you to stay away from him. We can help him, Daryl, help get him back on his feet and help him to control his anger, so he doesn't end up in jail again. I won't ask you to turn your back on your family. I understand that he means something to you. But me, Mrs. Grimes, Rick…Shane…we all consider ourselves your family too. So please, son. Come home.
New messagefrom Mrs. Grimes at 5:21 PM on Tuesday, April 3rd: Hi, sweetheart. Just calling to let you know we're having chicken parmesan for dinner. I know it's your favorite. And if that isn't a good reason to come home, then I don't know what is… Daryl, I—I just want you to know that you always have a place with us. Always. And when you need us again, if you do, we'll be here, sweetheart. I promise you that. You can come back to us whenever you want to. That room will always be yours. But please, please just be safe.
New messagefrom Shane Walsh at 9:34 PM on Thursday, April 12th: Hey. Rick's dad thought I oughta try callin', even though your phone's here, so it ain't like you'll be hearing this any time soon. I…I hit Rick today. Never done that before. But he was goin' off 'bout how you left, weren't coming back, and I couldn't take it. Hit him, and then went over to the bar and got in a fight there too.
I…Jesus, Daryl, I miss you, alright? I wanna be pissed. It'd be easier if I could hate you for leavin', but I don't. I'm not sad, either. Not sad the way I'm supposed to feel it. I'm just scared. Fuck, Daryl, I'm so fuckin' scared you won't come back. That I'll never get to tell you—or, that you'll get hurt. And I won't be there. Never been this scared before, man. Didn't know somethin' like this was in me. I… listen, listen—we can go back to the way things were, okay? You just gotta come home.
New messagefrom Shane Walsh at 10:55 PM on Thursday, April 12th: Hey, man. I'm in your room. Been sleeping here a lot, honestly. My house is too empty, and…fuck. Feels like I'm talkin' to your fuckin' tombstone or something. What's worse is: I could be. You might be dead in some ditch out there, somewhere you'd never get found, and we'd never even know—shit, I—m'sorry, man. That ain't why I'm doin' this. Supposed to be sayin' what I need to say, and all I can do is pace around worrying like a fuckin' housewife.
The thing is, I was wrong before. I am pissed. But not at you, man, at me. And that's worse 'cuz—'cuz I saw you leaving before it happened. I saw that look on your face and Merle's, and Rick's dad's, and fuck, Daryl. I knew you were gonna leave. I saw it happening, but I didn't do anything about it. I dunno why. Maybe I thought you'd pick me, or, maybe I didn't think I was allowed, ya know? Didn't want to have to convince you to stay with me, to be with me.
I always went on 'bout how you were mine, but we both know it was the other way around. You owned me, man. Still do. I think…I think I always needed you more than you needed me. 'Cuz maybe I helped you out a bit, but I ain't never been close to someone before you, Daryl. I dunno if I just didn't know how, or didn't think I could. But you did somethin' to me. Wish I knew what it was. Man…I wish a lot of things.
New messagefrom Shane Walsh at 3:31 AM on Thursday, April 12th: Hey. Hey, I—fuck, it's late but I just—just need to breathe— god, Daryl. Keep having these nightmares about you. Fucked up ones, where you die, and I can't help you. Have to watch it happen. I mean, can you believe that? I ain't had nightmares since I was six, and back then it was about werewolves and monsters under the bed. But now, my brain always goes to the same place. Losing you.
Thing is, I'm pretty sure I already did—lose you. S'been more than a week, and no one's heard from ya. Rick's folks are still goin' on 'bout how you'll come back eventually. But I dunno…I think they're just sayin' that for my sake. Tryin' to make me feel better. Ain't like it works.
Look, I need to say somethin'. Well, what I really need is for you to hear it, but I ain't got that option anymore, so here it is. I…I wish you coulda seen how much I cared about you. 'Cuz maybe if you'd seen it, you wouldn't have gone. But…that first time I was over to your house, it was like everything fell into place for me. Shit started to make sense. And maybe I'd been lookin' your way for a while, but being with you like that, having you need me…that was probably one of the best nights of my life. And maybe that says some shitty things about my life so far, but it's true. Never had someone need me before. Want me, like you did, for any longer than a night.
Hell, my dad took off on me years ago, and my mom ain't been around long enough since then to ask me 'bout school, let alone anything real. So you…you're the only one, man. You're everything. But it ain't just that I care about you, and it ain't just that I need you, and I like that you need me too sometimes. There's something else. I…fuck. It figures I can't even say it to your voicemail. Maybe if I'd been able to get up the guts, you'd be here right now.
But you ain't. And I wanna be able to tell you I love you to your face. Fuck, I wanna be able to say it and show you at the same time. I love you. Ha—fuck, see? It's getting easier. Why the fuck didn't I do this earlier? Daryl, you gotta come home man. You have to. 'Cuz I love you, and I ain't gonna stop. Just come home, so I can prove it.
Shane sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands and watched Daryl closely. His body went tight and alert when the younger boy finally pulled the phone away from his ear and set it down on the desk. Daryl's face was unreadable, a jumbled mess of emotions rather than a mask of indifference. But too tense to sit still, Shane popped up off the bed and walked slowly to meet Daryl in the center of the room.
Daryl looked him right in the eye. And maybe those baby blues were shining a little, but maybe it was just Shane's overeager imagination.
"You," Daryl rasped, coughing once to clear his throat and swallowing hard. He held Shane's gaze. "You love me?"
Shane shot him a sheepish smile. "Yeah, Daryl. I do."
The air around them froze in place.
And then Daryl kissed Shane so hard that it knocked the wind out of him.
Shane gasped into Daryl's mouth, and nearly fell to the floor. "Fuck, Dar—" But Daryl wouldn't let him get a word in, plastering their mouths together and kissing Shane like his life depended on it. He walked them backwards until Shane's calves hit the edge of the bed, then pushed Shane onto his ass none too gently.
"Daryl…" Shane breathed, looking up at the younger boy and watching his eyes shift from cornflower light to an electric midnight hue that was all need.
"Missed you," Daryl whispered as he leaned down to join Shane on the bed, "Missed you, Shane." And when Shane grazed his fingers up Daryl's chest, letting them linger on his neck and looking up at him like he couldn't believe the younger Dixon existed, Daryl thought that maybe this was what relief felt like. Acceptance that ran deep, and a dull joy that shined bright and warm as sunlight on skin.
He leaned down to press his lips to Shane's once more, this time slower, without the desperate haste of before, but with longing just as potent and grave. Daryl pushed Shane onto his back and spread himself above him, and it was far too easy for their towels to be slipped away and chucked to the floor, still-damp bodies gliding together like they'd been crafted for just this purpose.
Shane snuck a hand between them to grasp both their lengths, giving a firm tug that had Daryl pushing his forehead into Shane's and moaning deeply. But his eyes were open, and for once in his life, he knew exactly what he wanted.
Daryl slid out of Shane's hold and sucked a pattern of possessive marks across the other boy's collarbone. He nipped at one of Shane's nipples, tongued the sensitive patch of skin above his belly button, and bit hard at each powerful hipbone. And only when Shane was watching him fixedly, panting and wrecked and straining to keep his head aloft, did Daryl slowly take the older boy's cock into his mouth.
Shane threw his head back with a groan, and couldn't help but buck plaintively into the warm, wet heat Daryl was providing. He knew that somewhere in the last few minutes, he should have put up a fight. He should have told Daryl to stop, assumed that this was a heat-of-the-moment mistake. But the fire in Daryl's eyes was nothing but certain, wanting, and not one bit frantic or afraid. And really, Shane didn't want this to stop. He wanted to relive this moment continuously until he was walking with a hunch and his hair was wiry and gray.
"Daryl," Shane moaned as Daryl slid his lips leisurely up and down Shane's length, "Fuck, Daryl, I missed you. Want you—god, I've got to—c'mere," he demanded, abruptly pulling Daryl off of him and up to his mouth again, and sealing their lips in a kiss. He pinned Daryl sharply to the bed, and was surprised when Daryl gasped in clear enjoyment. That was something they'd have to explore later. But now, Shane couldn't wait a second more. He leaned down and took Daryl into his throat in a single go, humming as he went and watching Daryl shiver all down his spine.
"Shane, god, Shane."
The younger boy's back arched up off the bed, and though his hands remained where Shane had placed them, they fisted into the sheets like those flimsy strips of cotton were his last lifeline. It was everything Daryl had been longing for: the affection in Shane's eyes, the careful way the boy worshipped his body, the closeness. And it wasn't a minute more before the sensations all became too much, too good and too fast.
"Shane, stop," Daryl gasped, gripping the older boy's hair and tugging pointedly. "S-stop, please."
Shane pulled off with a slick pop, and looked up at Daryl. He sucked bruises along the inside of his thighs. "Why stop?"
Daryl flushed. "Don't—don't wanna come yet."
That earned him Shane's most predatory of grins. "Oh yeah? And what if I want you to come now, and then again later? You gonna stop me?"
"Not—not yet," Daryl argued through heaving breaths, trying to ignore the tempting heat as Shane exhaled against the base of his cock.
"Maybe we shouldn't be leavin' a decision like that up to you," Shane teased, "I bet I know what you want better than you do, huh Daryl?"
"No, I want—fuck, I wanna—not yet, not like—" Daryl tried to get out, had almost managed to explain, until Shane sucked the head of his cock right back into his mouth and swirled his tongue in a way that nearly sent him over the edge. Daryl had to shove Shane off of him by his shoulders. "Jesus, Shane," Daryl griped with mock sourness, but the other boy only laughed.
Shane rocked back on his heels and held his arms open. "Alright then, you don't want me to suck you off. Then what do you want, Daryl? Where you want me?"
Daryl immediately hopped to his feet as well, dragging Shane over to the head of the bed and shoving him down to sit so his back was against the headboard. Even though Shane had been the one to hand over the reins, he was surprised by how definitive Daryl was with his movements. What he didn't know, and what Daryl would never tell him, was that the younger Dixon had thought about this dozens of times over the past few months. How and where and if.
With Shane sitting propped against the wall, Daryl didn't hesitate to straddle him, kissing him by means of distraction while he reached for the bedside table. He shoved the small tube of lube into Shane's hand without opening his eyes, but felt the other boy smile against his lips.
"So that's what you want," Shane laughed breathlessly, "Want my fingers in your ass? Makin' you feel so good? Fuckin' greedy…"
Daryl nipped at his lower lip just a mite too hard. "Don't fuckin' tease," he warned, because he wanted this, and he wanted it with Shane, and he wanted it now.
But Shane was taking his fucking time about it, making a show of slicking up his fingers, then slipping them underneath Daryl's body to barely graze over the puckered ring of muscle.
Daryl let out a long, slow breath through his nose. "Shane…" he whispered.
"I know, man," Shane replied quietly, and even though the lust in his eyes was still burning strong, Daryl could see that his playful manner had been replaced with a warm, meaningful sort of intensity. "I've got you now," Shane told him softly, "You're here, now."
And Shane didn't need to think or plan in order to time Daryl's next exhaled breath with precise pressure from his finger, slowly slipping inside. He found Daryl's spot with the ease of experience, and as soon as he pressed against the slightly raised piece of flesh, Daryl's eyes slammed shut and he moaned lowly.
"God, fuck," he groaned, "Needed this. Needed you, Shane."
"You've got me," Shane promised them both as he pressed another finger inside, began to crook them more roughly into the spot that made Daryl writhe. "I'm here."
Daryl's cock bobbed and twitched between them, leaking steadily as the younger boy began to rock back against Shane's hand.
"Another," Daryl muttered in a rush, "Gimme another."
And that made Shane pause, but only briefly. They'd never progressed past two fingers before—Daryl hadn't expressed any interest and Shane hadn't wanted to push him past his comfort zone. But Shane wasn't going to deny Daryl anything at this point, much less something he'd been wanting to try for as long as he could remember. With some added slick, Shane pressed in a third finger beside the first two, and watched Daryl's face closely for a reaction.
The younger boy's mouth fell open, eyes dark but clear, and he moaned Shane's name. Their mouths found each other again, as if snapped together by magnets. And even as Shane's cock bobbed neglected between them, he couldn't ask for anything better than Daryl Dixon grinding back onto his fingers and moaning against his lips.
But then a too-slick hand wrapped itself around his length, stroking from root to tip, and Shane cracked his skull on the wall behind him in surprise. His eyes were open, and he could now see clear as day that Daryl had the tube of lube in one hand, and his cock in the other. And god, it felt good to have Daryl's hands on him again. But Shane forced the warm lull of arousal back, because this was wrong.
"Daryl?" he rasped in a sound that was far too close to a whimper.
"Mmm," the boy in his lap grunted, watching his own hand work up and down Shane's member. But that was not answer enough, because if Daryl was lubing him up, then this could only be going one way.
"Daryl, stop," Shane whispered, clutching his free hand to Daryl's wrist.
"Don't wanna stop," Daryl replied softly, catching Shane's eye. It twisted Shane's guts, because he wanted this, fuck did he want this, but he couldn't risk losing Daryl again when he'd just got him back.
Daryl's hand had him squirming, but Shane managed to gasp out, "Daryl, c'mon. Stop."
And this time the younger Dixon listened, pausing his movements to look at Shane fully.
"You don't have to do this," Shane said, "You don't gotta prove nothin' to me. Don't owe me nothin'." He stroked his fingers across Daryl's side, looked up at him with big brown eyes that he hoped conveyed just how serious he was about this. And just how hard he was fighting to keep his wants and his needs separate for once. "I don't—I don't need that, man. I just need you, here."
"Ain't doin' it 'cuz I think I gotta," Daryl rumbled lowly, "I just…want it. Trust you, Shane. And—and I want this. Been wantin' this. Fuck, just don't say no, alright? I'm fuckin' sure." He took hold of Shane's cock again, stroked him for emphasis. "Ain't gonna regret this. M'not."
Shane watched him closely, looking for the flicker of doubt or deceptiveness. But all he could find in Daryl's cerulean pools was the same affection and want that he knew mirrored his own.
"I don't wanna hurt you," Shane finally murmured.
Daryl shook his head, and the corner of his mouth quirked in an almost-smile. "You won't."
It would be the exact opposite, if either of them had any say in it.
"I might," Shane argued weakly. "And, it might hurt more, like this," he said, indicating towards their position.
This time, Daryl nodded. "I know. But s'how I need it to be."
Shane understood that Daryl wasn't insinuating he needed the pain. No, the younger Dixon needed control, the sanctity of mind bought by keeping Shane underneath him, and deciding the pace and roughness for himself. Daryl took Shane's silence to indicate indecision, so he pressed them into another kiss.
"Please, Shane," Daryl murmured when he pulled away, "Please."
And Shane was so very fucked.
Daryl swiped his thumb over the head of Shane's cock, almost a nervous tic, as he waited for Shane's response. It didn't take long.
"We go slow," Shane hopelessly bargained. But the smile that cracked across Daryl's face right then made it all worth it.
"Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want," Daryl mumbled too fast, stroking Shane outright once more and urging Shane to move his fingers in the same rhythm. And Shane could have laughed, if Daryl hadn't rubbed his palm decisively over the head next, rendering Shane speechless aside from an unintelligible moan.
A few more strokes, and Daryl came up on his knees, poised over Shane's aching cock. Shane grasped himself by the base, and leaned up to kiss Daryl hard. And when Daryl finally lowered himself down, Shane moaned loud enough for the sound to echo across the walls, while Daryl whimpered against the older boy's mouth.
Shane gripped Daryl by his hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and helped the boy slowly slide down. When he was finally balls-deep, Shane couldn't resist fingering the puckered skin where his cock disappeared. He looked up at Daryl, and found the boy biting his lip hard, with his eyes firmly shut.
"Fuck," Shane breathed, "Fuck, Daryl..." He moved slightly, trying to press closer to the younger boy, but the slight shift was enough.
Daryl's eyes shot open, and he moaned, god did he moan, throwing his head back and digging his fingers into Shane's shoulder.
"Ahh, Jesus, Jesus Christ…"
"Fuck, Daryl, you feel so good. You gotta tell me if I'm hurting you—I can't—can't hurt you— " Shane babbled.
But Daryl shook his head rapidly, unable to speak. Instead, he rose up a few inches, then sunk slowly back down. Shane's cock pressed hard to that spot inside him, and he panted hard.
"Shane, it's—I—" Daryl sputtered, before repeating the movement. And if Shane wasn't too sure whether Daryl was hurting or not, the way the younger boy's cock twitched and spurted pre-come when Daryl began to rock against him outright was indication enough.
"What's it feel like?" Shane panted while his fingers mapped out the scarred skin of Daryl's chest. "God, you look so good like this Daryl. Feel so good…"
"Fuck, fuck…" Daryl whimpered. "You're fuckin'…big," Daryl gasped out in what was almost a laugh. But then he pressed down in a particularly forceful movement, and all Daryl could do was moan. "God, Shane. Feels so good. Fuck—"
It was a fight for Shane to stay still. The tight heat of Daryl all around him was practically blinding, and Christ, he'd had sex dozens of times, but never like this. This was visceral, a sensation like he'd forgone his own body to occupy Daryl's instead. And all he wanted was closer, harder, more but he wouldn't demand it. Couldn't. Not yet.
Instead, Shane reached between them and took hold of Daryl's neglected length, pumping him in time with Daryl's stuttered movements and groaning in delight when the younger boy had to bite his lip through a moan. Daryl was using Shane's shoulders for leverage, clutching them tightly as he began to ride Shane harder, faster.
"Ahh, I—I—" Daryl gasped, "Fuck, m'close. M'so close, Shane, god…"
"Fuck. Yes," Shane breathed, stroking Daryl faster and barely hanging on himself. "Gonna come on my cock Daryl? Gonna do it for me?" And god, he couldn't help it—Shane's hips began to cant upwards, meeting every downward movement from Daryl and sending the sounds of their bodies slapping together echoing out against the walls. "Fuck, I wanna see you—wanna see you come on my cock. That's it, Daryl. That's it. Fuck, c'mon."
Daryl's thighs were shaking, whole body buzzing with adrenaline and need, vibrating with how right this was. There was a pressure building inside him, swelling and filling him up warm and whole. It was bursting to get out, squeezing at his lungs, and not even Shane's hands on his neck, holding him steady, could keep Daryl grounded anymore. Those big brown eyes were watching him like he composed Shane's entire fucking universe. And Daryl would never admit it, but being possessed this way, inside and out, felt so much better than he could have imagined.
"Shane," Daryl managed to rasp, pressing their foreheads together and holding on tight. "Shane, I—I can't—"
"I know, baby," Shane whispered back, not stopping to consider how that little nickname had managed to slip out. "Just let go for me. Let me see you." I love you. I fucking love. I love—
And Daryl came. Came so hard his eyes slammed shut. So hard that his body shook and all the air was punched out of his lungs, and the only noises he could manage were unintelligible, whimpering moans of Shane's name.
"Ahh! Shane! Shane!"
The way Daryl's body clenched and fluttered around him, the way the younger boy looked, completely wrecked in his lap—it was more than enough to send Shane plummeting over the edge. His hips bucked of their own accord, and Shane wrapped his arms around Daryl's back, moaning into the boy's chest as he shot off in waves that startled him in their intensity, ripped out of him like a last benediction.
And things were still, after. Finally, blissfully still.
"Fuck, Daryl," Shane breathed after several minutes of silence. They hadn't managed to unwind themselves from each other in the slightest. "Fuck…"
Shane felt Daryl's body start to go tight, and he instinctively pulled the boy closer.
"Shane…" he rasped, pulling back to look at the other boy properly. His eyes were a shimmery, ocean blue again. And Shane was frozen, terrified. Please don't regret this. Don't do this. No—
"Shane," Daryl whispered, "Don't… don't leave."
The way his words cracked broke Shane's heart. Because why, how could Daryl ever think he would?
But Daryl took Shane's pause for something foreboding. "Please, please don't. I know I deserve it—know I did it first. But please—I can't—couldn't take it—just, please Shane—"
"Daryl," Shane cut him off, carding his fingers through the boys hair. "Hey, I'm not goin' anywhere. I'm not."
Daryl's face was so fearful and open, wary to trust but trusting nonetheless, as if he didn't have a choice in the matter. Even if he wanted to brace himself, bare down and draw up the walls that would make rejection easier, Daryl was too emotionally drained to try. But Shane could see that he wasn't convinced.
"Daryl…I love you," Shane said lowly, "I'm not gonna leave. Swear to god I'm not. But…but you can't either, alright? You can't do that to me again. I need you."
"I won't," Daryl promised sharply, but his muscles were finally going lax again, helped along by the soothing motions of Shane's hands on his back. "I won't, Shane. M'here."
"Yeah," Shane murmured, sweeping his hands over Daryl's body, "You are, aren't you?"
And he smiled. And Daryl sighed in full-body relief.
Shane was gentle about cleaning them both up. He kept his eyes on Daryl's, kept his movements predictable. Afterwards, they lay curled into each other, not quite ready to sleep. Shane's hands drifted up and down Daryl's back, Daryl fingered the birthmarks strewn across Shane's hip.
But Shane did remember, was absolutely sure, that before he drifted off, he heard Daryl whisper one very important thing.
"Love you too, Shane."