Warning: In keeping Merle in character, I was forced to use some pretty racist words in this chapter. I do apologize if this offends anyone – I certainly don't enjoy doing it. I tried to use things that Merle said on the show himself, though one I'm using is actually from BDS 2. Again, I'm sorry, but I want to be accurate to Merle's character, to get the full effect of the Beth's little world right now.
Beth woke the next morning to an empty tent, though she could hear Daryl's gruff voice just outside; he was having a conversation with Merle.
"I just figured you two needed a night ta get acquainted. She's a sweet little thing...any good in the sack?"
"Shut up, Merle," Daryl mumbled.
Merle laughed brazenly, "You mean ta tell me it's the god damn end o' the world and ya still can't seal the deal?"
"Fuck you, man."
"'At's a damn shame, brother. Ya sure ya don't need me to ta talk ya through it?" Beth heard the sound of a punch landing against skin, followed by Merle's laugh again. "That the best you got? No wonder yer so damn cranky this mornin'. Failin' ta perform all over, huh?" Another laugh from Merle, more silence from Daryl. "You best watch it with her, though. I bet she's a screamer. Sweet little thing like that, I bet she's wound up so damn tight...damn. You sure you ain't gonna share? After all I done fer you?"
"All you done?!" Daryl sounded outraged. Beth heard him puff out a breath as Merle crowed in laughter. It was very similar to the reaction she would give her own brother, Shawn, when he was trying to get her riled up. She realized that while Daryl was trying his hardest to stand up to his older brother, he knew when it was best to just let something go and let Merle think he'd won. She wished he'd say something more about not sharing her, just for her own benefit, but was only left with disappointment when their conversation changed topic.
"Spent some time yesterday scopin' out everyone's shit around here." Beth hoped he wasn't being literal. "Some folks are just damn stupid when it comes ta packin'. Most of 'em just got clothes and a couple bags a food. Nothin' really of value, but it ain't like we can trade shit in anymore. Still, we act soon, we'll be able ta have ourselves a feast, courtesy of the jackholes in this camp." Beth was puzzled at that. Daryl and Merle were clearly capable of taking care of themselves, both being hunters – experienced hunters at that – and didn't have to worry about where their next meal would come from. Were they planning on trading so they had more to eat than just roasted squirrel?
Merle continued, "Gotta wait a while, though. That dick Walsh over there seems ta think the fires in Atlanta oughta be out by now, so a couple people thinkin' 'bout goin' in ta town, see if they can't get some supplies no one thought ta bring. That blonde bitch is hellbent on goin', the spic an' the chink, plus them two niggers. Apparently that's their A team, save fer Walsh." Beth cringed at Merle's language, her stomach actually growing queasy because of it, but stayed quiet, trying to glean all she could from their conversation. "I figure I'll volunteer, tell 'em they'll need someone who knows how to actually shoot to keep the biters off of 'em since Walsh ain't leavin' his little sweetie-pie."
"The hell am I supposed to do?" Daryl demanded quietly.
"Play nice, baby brother, play nice. See if ya can't get on everyone's good side so they don't see it comin' when we make off with all their shit. Hell, use blondie ta help if ya gotta. She seems real friendly."
Beth couldn't help but gasp when she heard their plan. How could people be so terrible as to rob others when they were all facing the same hardships? She had wanted to believe that there was some good in Daryl for him to even offer to take care of her, even if it was for a price, but now, hearing this, she had serious doubt filling her mind. The fact that they were planning on using her to put their hideous plan into action made her feel sick to her stomach.
The brothers stopped their conversation short, apparently having heard her; Beth nearly jumped when the tent flap was pulled open and Daryl stepped in halfway and found her sitting up and awake. "'Bout time," he said with feigned ignorance, nodding his head outside, indicating that it was time for Beth to get up and get going. She was more afraid of them now that she knew their intentions for the group than she was when she had agreed to the terms of Daryl's promise to keep her safe. Now she wondered just how sincere he really was about that after all.
He took her into the woods so she could relieve herself, not giving her nearly as much privacy as she would have liked, but at least he turned his back to her. He muttered something about a walker coming out of nowhere and biting her ass. She made a point to get her business done as quickly as possible after that.
Later that morning, a blonde woman came up to them as they ate and introduced herself as Andrea, offering to take Beth around to meet the rest of the camp since Daryl had neglected to do so. Daryl nodded and followed silently, apparently not trusting anyone in the camp even for a few minutes. She met most people in the group and tried to remember all of their names – not that Daryl was likely to let her converse with them regularly, but she hoped for the small miracle anyway. Everyone seemed friendly enough. She noticed the camp was largely made up of two types of people: those who were simply waiting for the world to return to normal, for the government and military to come in and wipe out this plague of human monsters, and those who had already given up and were terrified of what their futures held for them.
Daryl was busy talking to Deputy Walsh – Shane, if she remembered correctly – when Andrea hurriedly whispered, "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"
Beth looked at her, confused. "No. He hasn't done anything to..."
"Honey," Andrea started, then dug into her back pocket to produce a compact mirror. Beth took it from her warily and opened it, skeptically looking at her reflection. All she noticed was that her hair now resembled a rat's nest, her eyes were puffy from crying the night before, not to mention the dark circles which had grown over the past two nights. "It's bad enough the way Ed treats Carol. If Daryl is hurting you, we can figure something out."
Beth still didn't see why Andrea was so upset. Did she think he had given her a black eye? Did she really look that bad? Had she figured out their arrangement and assumed he was forcing her to do things for him? Beth didn't really want to go into the details with this woman, but she had to say something. There had to be some good in Daryl, though she had to admit it might be difficult to see it. Still, it bothered her that Andrea would jump to such a conclusion – was Daryl really the type of man who would become violent with her if she didn't do what he wanted.
A voice inside her told her the idea was pretty far from the truth.
She lowered the mirror to close it and hand it back to Andrea when she saw just what had the woman so upset: two noticeable hickeys on either side of her neck. They were huge, an ugly shade of angry purple, and if she looked close, she could almost make out teeth marks.
"Oh my god," she whispered as she examined them. She had no idea they were there; it wasn't like Merle or Daryl were all too concerned with their appearance, so she wouldn't have seen them in any mirror until now. She was humiliated, and at the same time furious. Daryl had let her walk around camp, unknowingly showing off his mark on her.
Beth handed the mirror back to Andrea with shaky fingers. "Thank you," her voice shook. "He hasn't hurt me, I promise. It's...it's okay." She tried to sound convincing while pulling the collar of the flannel shirt closed.
Andrea looked at her, clearly not convinced. "If you need anything, anything, come find me. We'll figure something out," she repeated. Beth nodded, noticing Daryl making his way back to her, ready to escort her back to their tent.
Despite how absolutely livid she was, Beth held her tongue until they were inside, and even then, didn't let her voice above a loud whisper. "What the hell did you do?!"
Daryl frowned and shrugged one shoulder. "Told Walsh I was planning on goin' huntin' for somethin' bigger'n squirrels an' rabbits in a couple days, asked 'im to keep an eye on ya," he replied, stowing his crossbow in the corner of the tent.
"Not that," she hissed, opening the collar of her shirt back up, exposing her marked flesh. "This." She was beside herself with anger. "You let me walk around the camp, meeting everyone with these on my neck?"
His lips curled in a tiny, self-assured grin, "Guess I did." He stood as straight as he could in the tiny tent. "An' yeah, I s'pose everyone saw 'em. Now they know..."
Beth waited a few seconds for him to finish his thought, but prodded for something, anything, when he didn't continue. "What? What do they know? 'Cause I'll tell you what they think. They think you're forcing me to do god knows what and beating me or...strangling me if I don't and...who knows what else." She stopped herself short. Why was she so upset that they would think those things of him? Where was all this coming from? She should be angry at him for leaving those damn hickeys on her neck in the first place, and she was, but she found herself angrier at Andrea that she would automatically assume the worst about Daryl.
'Maybe it's because you know that deep down he's not a bad guy. Yes, you're in this crazy situation with him, but he's not necessarily forcing you, and he's given you a way to make it work for the both of you. He could have just left you for dead back there in the forest. You wouldn't have noticed him if he hadn't started talking to you. He's saving your life, but he's in it for himself, too.' The same voice from earlier was resounding from deep inside her and rang through her head.
Daryl met her heated glare with his own, "The fuck do I care what they think? Dumbasses ain't gonna do shit, anyway, 'cept bitch an' moan." He took a step toward her, and another. Beth never faltered, even when they were sharing the same breath because they were standing so close together. "I put 'em there so they know yer with me," he growled out. "I don't know these assholes from Adam. You may not like me, but you don't know what any of them are capable of, and neither do I. I do know Walsh ain't wearin' a ring, but the bitch he's bangin' is, an' that little boy ain't his, it's his best friend's, so do the math on that one. I know that Asian kid is real sneaky, been runnin' ta the city an' back, an' he always comes back without a scratch an' no one followin' him. Seems odd for a city boy like him. I know that fucker Ed keeps his woman on a short leash, an' it ain't for her protection. I know what's-his-name on the other side of camp is real twitchy, and that Andrea's got a big mouth on her – hear her talk about how we all gotta work together equally, how she was some hot shit lawyer, fighting for civil rights an' all that shit. Like any of that shit even matters anymore."
He cupped her cheeks in his hands; Beth was surprised at how gently he handled her – a vast difference from the anger he was showing just a second ago. He carefully tilted her head to the side, fully exposing his "handiwork," examining it, letting his fingertips drift over them carefully. His voice was soft and low, "I left these so anyone who sees 'em knows if they mess with you, they're gonna be messin' with me. I can't keep havin' ya follow me around all the time, an' this is the only way I could think to protect you."
Beth blinked up at him. She hadn't thought of that. She just assumed it was some Neanderthal behavior, claiming his possessions or something like that, which in a way it was, but it was also much more. "You could just give me a gun or a knife or something," she muttered.
Daryl scoffed and stepped back, releasing her. "Ain't givin' you shit without training ya first."
"You'll...you'd train me to fight?" she asked softly. She noticed he wasn't opposed to her having a weapon.
Daryl rolled his eyes. "Fuck."
.oOo.
The next several days followed much the same pattern as the first. Daryl would always be awake before her, sometimes even gruffly waking her up if he felt she was sleeping too long. He would provide her with a quick breakfast, usually a few handfuls of berries or a granola bar someone else in the camp had given them in exchange for providing those at the camp with fresh meat the past few days. He'd spend most of his day hunting. Sometimes he brought her along, and she'd try to learn all she could from him, not that he was actively teaching her anything. Still, she attempted to mimic the way he moved through the forest, walking as quietly as she could. She asked once more about a weapon for herself, but her only answer from him was, "Gotta train ya first." She wondered if and when that would ever happen.
Andrea came around again one morning with her sister, Amy. "I noticed you just have the one outfit, thought maybe you'd like to have something else to wear," the younger woman said, offering her a small bundle of clothes. Beth took them gratefully, hugging them each in turn with her free arm. It was strange wearing someone else's underwear, but faced with the choice between that and the same pair she'd been wearing all week...or going commando...she decided she could suck it up and deal.
Daryl had kept true to his word and only asked for Beth's "services" twice more since he brought her to the camp. She was relieved when he was apparently satisfied with her just using her hand. It did not escape her that each time he let her know, in his own not-so-subtle way, it was time to uphold her end of their arrangement that Merle was nowhere to be found. She wondered if it was an understanding the brothers had, or if Daryl had just timed it out to use their time alone while Merle was out doing God knows what. The nights in between, Daryl began draping an arm around her waist as they fell asleep. "Just in case," he mumbled against the crown of her head. She guessed it was to make sure Merle didn't try anything, but the older Dixon had never said or done anything, at least not in her presence.
A week had gone by, and when Beth saw the other half of the tent empty at nightfall, she predicted that Daryl would be asking for her, and judging by the growing intensity of his kisses, considered herself correct. He only ever started kissing her on nights like this, when they were alone with no chance of being interrupted, otherwise he barely touched her, save for a hand at the small of her back when he escorted her into the woods in the mornings, and she suspected that was mainly for show.
That tiny voice from deep within lamented the fact that he didn't kiss her more often, didn't hold her afterwards, didn't even try touching her except in the heat of the moment. Each time her thoughts went down that road, she quickly fought to get them on track again.
Without his asking, she started trailing her hand toward his crotch. She knew she didn't owe him any favors (at least not any more than she was already giving him), but Beth supposed she wanted to show her gratitude for his keeping her safe and fed this past week – not to mention recently starting to show her how to properly handle a knife. She also knew he could demand a lot more than what he was asking, and she was more than grateful that he hadn't changed the stipulations of their agreement as the week went on. Initiating a hand job might just encourage him to keep treating her a little nicer than he had been.
Daryl reached down and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. "Gettin' a little tired 'a you jerkin' me off," he murmured against her lips.
Beth's eyes snapped open, her body froze against his. Her blood ran cold and she wasn't sure if her heart was still beating. "Daryl..." she managed to get out, but any other words died on the tip of her tongue.
"'Sides, I'mma be leavin' for a long hunt tomorrow," he whispered, shifting so he was partially covering her with his torso. "Want somethin' that'll tide me over more'n a couple days."
Beth's breath came in deep, heavy puffs as he began his work reinforcing his marks on either side of her neck. He rolled his body to cover hers, his knee separating her thighs. He kept his weight off her, supporting himself on his elbows, but that didn't stop his pelvis from settling heavily on her thigh; she felt the now familiar length of him resting there between them, could feel the heat of him even through the fabric of his boxers and her shorts. He brought one hand up to knead her breast over her shirt, but then pushed himself off her, still straddling her leg, to start pulling the hem of the blouse over her shirt, exposing her torso, only her bra keeping her from being totally naked from the waist up. He leaned back down to cover her, kissing, licking, nipping her from collar bone to belly button and back. "Wanna show me them titties, girl?" he asked as he sat back on his knees, his eyes drinking her in.
Her gut reaction was to scream, to tell him no, that she didn't want to show him anything, to bend her leg to knee him in the groin and try to escape...but where would she go? After spending a week with these people, she knew someone in the group would most likely take her in, but everyone basically depended on Daryl and Merle for fresh food, not to mention protection, and she was terrified that if she were to fight him and run, Daryl would start bringing less food back.
Or worse.
Maybe he just wanted to look. Maybe he didn't want sex. If she hadn't been so scared, she would have rolled her eyes at the thought. Of course he wanted to have sex. Did she really think she could keep him satisfied just by touching him a couple times a week? Still, maybe she could put it off for a little while longer, and if seeing her topless helped, then she'd let him. They were just boobs, and it wasn't like she had a lot to offer anyway. She pushed herself up onto one elbow and reached behind her, undoing the clasp of her bra then shyly guided the straps off her shoulders until the whole thing slid off and rested on her belly.
Daryl grinned at her, his devilish grin she hadn't quite gotten used to, still torn between being afraid of and attracted to him because of it. He bent over her again, sealing his lips over hers, his tongue seeking entrance. She felt his hand land on the curve of her waist and inch its way toward her chest. He palmed her breast, squeezing gently, causing her to gasp into his mouth. If he thought anything of her being so small, he didn't show it in any way; in fact, he let a little more of his weight sink down onto her.
His mouth trailed rough kisses down her jaw, her neck, over her collarbones, then wrapped itself around her nipple. She arched under him as her body took over, even though her mind was pleading with her to tell him to stop, that she wasn't ready for this, that she didn't want this. The growing warmth low in her belly indicated otherwise, and her arm moved on its own volition to bring her hand to timidly run her fingers through his hair as he swirled and lapped his tongue against the sensitive peak, only to abandon it in search of its twin.
The sensations coursing through her were completely foreign and confusing. She barely knew this man, and yet he seemed to know how to control her body better than she did. She found herself absolutely panting, more from anticipation than any kind of fear, though the thought of how far this might go had her completely terrified.
All that snapped into sheer panic when his hand drifted back down her waist and began toying with the waistband of her shorts.
"I ain't in the habit of forcin' women," he lifted his head to look up at her, "and I ain't plannin' to start now. But you just keep in mind that I was doin' fine jerkin' myself off before you came along. Gonna need to make it worth my time at least once in a while, girl." He dipped down to suckle her nipple once more, teasing and stretching it in a way that made her shudder in pain, fear...and unexpected lust.
It had come to this: do or die, quite honestly in the literal sense. She hated being forced to choose between her sense of propriety and her sense of self-preservation. She quickly reasoned that she'd been living with Daryl for over a week now, had gotten to know him – at least as much as he was willing to let her – so he wasn't necessarily a stranger anymore. This wasn't any kind of casual sex. This was survival.
Her mind made up, but her heart breaking, she scrunched her eyes shut and slipped her thumbs under the elastic of her shorts and underwear and pushed them down past her hips. Daryl pulled them down the rest of the way, and she choked back a sob when she felt the palms of his hands on her knees, easing them apart, exposing herself to him.
He settled himself in the cradle of her body, still clothed, and began rocking against her. He continued kissing her neck, his thumb found her nipple again and drew tight circles around it. Before long, his hand trailed down her body again and found her, coaxing the seam of her sex open with one finger. He began to tease her opening – never rough, never forced – drawing out the wetness that hid within. He inserted one finger, slowly, all the way to his knuckles. Beth bucked at the unfamiliar pressure, but clenched her jaw, not wanting to make any noise and give anyone nearby a clue as to what was taking place inside their tent.
His groan overshadowed her sharp gasp and the squeak that escaped from her throat when he added a second finger.
Apparently satisfied with how ready she was – physically, at least – he leaned back and pulled his boxers halfway down his thighs, then lined himself up with her entrance. He paused and looked up at her, waiting for...something. Beth realized he was silently asking her permission one last time. At this point, she felt she almost had to go through with it. Wouldn't it just upset him if she were to stop him now? What kind of repercussions would that entail for her? So she just nodded, and let her eyes focus on the seams of the tent above her.
In one swift stroke, Beth Greene was no longer a virgin.
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I promise the next chapter is almost finished.