Does anybody actually read this story other than the 2 or 3 people? Even the stats for this story is extremally low, and I'm thinking to stop posting here.
Oh, darling, my soul
You know it aches for yours
And you've been filling this hole
Since you were born, oh
'Cause you're the reason I believe in fate, you're my paradise
And I'll do anything to be your love or be your sacrifice
'Cause I love you for infinity
I love you for infinity
Infinity by Jaymes young
Chapter 22 - Date night - 1998
Standing before the mirror, you run the brush through your long, dark tresses, glossy and straight as your mother's. You take a quick glance at your reflection, scrutinizing your attire for what must be the hundredth time. It's a simple white sundress paired with flat sandals, nothing too fancy, but lately you've been particularly concerned with your appearance.
After all, there is a boy you like, and you want him to think you're pretty.
Something has shifted with your relationship with Daryl. Since his birthday, he's been holding your hand casually or pressing his lips to your head as you part ways in the evening to go to your separate homes. Although his gestures are endearing, it seems that it will take him half a century before he can finally make a move on you. You enjoy that pace for a while, but it doesn't take you long before You grew tired of the constant subliminal messages, so you decided to rip off the band-aid and ask him out.
"You should take me out on a date," you blurted out as he was bringing you back to the park on his motorcycle. You had spent the afternoon lounging on the cliffside. He seemed taken aback by your remark and tilted his head to scrutinize your face as if trying to discern whether this was one of your teasing moments. There was a momentary pause, and you gazed at him coyly, nibbling on your bottom lip.
After a beat, he asked, "You wanna go on a date?" You were aware that he was simply seeking clarification, but you decided to treat it as if he was genuinely asking you out.
"Yes," a smile spread across your face as you nodded your head in confirmation. "Like, officially." you replied.
His entire demeanor shifted in an instant, and he nervously brought his thumb to his lip, biting on his nail, a telltale sign of his anxiety. Despite this, his eyes remained fixed on your face, "Okay, where you wanna go?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
Your face practically glowed with joy, and you couldn't resist wrapping your arms around his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder. "I was thinking we could go to the movies and maybe get an ice cream afterwards," You suggested, voice light and playful.
"Okay," he murmured, his blue eyes filled with warmth. "It's been ages since I've been to the movies, anyways."
"Alright, it's a date!" you declared happily.
Now, as you look at yourself in the mirror, you can't help but feel the excitement coursing through your body, filling you with the giddiness of a child. Your cheeks flush a deep crimson, and you can feel the butterflies in your stomach doing somersaults. Tonight, is your first official date. Taking a deep breath, you move on to your 'makeup.' You aren't allowed to wear real makeup; you're too young, or so your mother says. So, you put on the only things you're allowed: mascara and some lip tint. You glance at the clock on your bedside table and with a deep sigh, you head downstairs.
The moment your foot touches the first floor, you hear your mother's voice calling out to you from the kitchen. "Where are you heading, honey?" she asks, her tone curious and watchful. With a resigned sigh, you make your way toward her, bracing yourself for the inevitable questioning.
As you enter the kitchen, you're surprised to see your father sitting at the breakfast island, sipping a glass of wine. Your mother is behind the counter, carefully crafting a cheese board.
"I'm going to the movies with a few girls I met at SAT prep," the lie rolls off your lips smoothly, your hand reaching over to pick up one of the slices of cheese on a toothpick. You know your mother only makes her famous cheese board when she is expecting guests.
"Okay, sweetheart, don't stay out too long," your father says before your mother can start interrogating you about your fictitious female friends. You nod with a smile before leaning over to give him a peck on the cheek. You know your father well, and from the triumphant smirk on his face, you can tell he's having a good day, probably some sucker has fallen for his latest scheme.
Just then, the doorbell rings, echoing throughout the house. "Alright, I'm heading out," you tell them, grabbing your keys and your small purse from the hook on the wall by the kitchen door.
As you turn the doorknob and push the door open, a familiar face comes into view. It's Greg, the man you've known for several years, standing there in a sharp blue suit, clutching a thick manila folder in his hand. Despite his attempt to maintain a composed demeanor, you can see the tension in his shoulders betraying his anxiety.
"Hello, Greg," you greet him with a smile, but the twitch in his eyebrow tells you that he's not in the mood for pleasantries, though he never is…
"That's Commissioner Cox to you," he hisses, his voice laced with hostility. "Don't call me Greg. We are not friends." You shrug your shoulders, knowing that the animosity is not directed at you but at your father. The throbbing vein in his neck suggests that he is agitated, but he clears his throat before speaking again.
"Is...is your father at home?" he asks, his tone betraying a hint of desperation. You've noticed that every time he visits, he sweats profusely, as if he's trying to hide something.
"Sure, he's in the kitchen," you reply, stepping aside to allow him to enter. He straightens his tie and adjusts his shoulders before walking past you.
It's obvious that Greg is intimidated by your father. The reason for his fear is a mystery to you, but his behavior when he's around your father speaks volumes. He seems to shrink in his presence, like a dog that tucks its tail between its legs. Even the simplest conversations become strained, and you can sense his discomfort. Whatever hold your father has over him must be substantial.
"Bye, Greg!" you call out as you shut the door behind you, chuckling to yourself as you make your way to your car. You don't see his reaction, but you're certain he's fuming.
"To infinity and beyond!" you shout triumphantly, striking a pose like Buzz Lightyear as you exit the ice cream shop. The air outside is warm and humid, a stark contrast to the cool interior of the shop. "Do you know what that means?" you ask looking towards Daryl, but without waiting for a response, you proceed to answer your own question. "It means limitless possibilities: it's when infinity is not enough, and it goes beyond even the concept of endlessness." you spoke with animated tone, hand gestures, and smile on your face.
Daryl hums to signify he's listening before he grabs your hand, his fingers warm and comforting as you both walk down the streets. In the other hand, you hold onto your cone of chocolate ice cream, which you've already made a sizable dent in.
The sound of the bustling city fills the space - cars honking, people chattering, and music playing from nearby shops. There is a spring in your step, and though you're outside, you can still smell the sweet and sugary flavor that lingered in the atmosphere. You casually walk towards the parking lot of the shopping center.
"You said I could pick the darn movie, and we end up seein' that kid's shit, anyways," Daryl grumbles. In his other hand, he holds his cone with three scoops of different flavors.
"Yeah, but you picked a horror movie," you whine in response to Daryl's complaints. You could only handle about thirty minutes of the film called, 'Bride of Chucky', jumping out of your skin at every suspenseful moment and burying your face in Daryl's arms the whole time.
It wasn't long before Daryl takes pity on you and suggests watching something else. You both sneak into the next theater to catch "Toy Story," though Daryl seems a bit embarrassed to be surrounded by kids.
"You can't deny it, you totally enjoyed it. In fact, I think I saw you singing the song!" you tease, playfully sticking out your tongue. You snicker at the looks he gives you, and you can't resist bursting into laughter as you begin to sing, "You've got a friend in me!"
"Shut up, goofball. Ah'm surprised you didn't bring your stuffed toy," he retorts, and you playfully smack his arm, giggling.
"You're just jealous Mr. Beans gets to sleep with me every night," you lean over on your tiptoes whispering almost seductively, "his head on my breast, warm and fuzzy, and he would watch me do things at night… just him and I…" You press your cold lips to his earlobe and let his imagination fill in the rest. You bite your lips to suppress your smile when you feel him shudder.
"I tell you what," you breathe, your eyes glancing at his three layers of ice-cream softly melting in his hand, "let me get a taste of your ice-cream, and in exchange for a kiss." You press your lips down to his neck, and he lets out a breath, his eyes looking at you half-closed, head tilted sideways.
There is a tense moment as you hold his gaze, the air thick with unspoken desire. His hand holding the cone moves towards you in a seemingly automatic motion, and you couldn't hold it anymore, and you burst out laughing. "You're such a perv," you exclaim. "Are you really going to fall for that?"
"You know what, shithead, you're done! Ain't getting' shit from me, ever!" He lets out a huff of annoyance, shoving your face away, and as if to make his point, he takes a big bite out of his ice-cream before stomping off.
"Come back! I'm just kidding!" your laughter echoes throughout the parking lot as you chase after him. "A kiss for a lick, I mean it this time!"
One of the things you love most about Daryl is his ability to handle your teasing with ease. No matter how hard you push him, he never takes it too seriously. Instead, he huffs and puffs for a moment, then shoots you a look full of fondness. You suspect it's because he has a thick skin, considering what he's told you about his environment. You imagine most of the jokes played by the people around him must be pretty brutal.
On the way back from your date, Daryl even gives you the last bit of his chocolate chip ice cream, despite swearing he'll never share any of his food or desserts again. Of course, he makes you work for it; there's a lot of half-hearted apologizing and puppy eyes involved. And the moment the sweet is in your hand, you can't help but stick your tongue out at him.
As you pull into your usual spot at the park, you notice Daryl's motorcycle parked across from you. He stays seated in the car, and as your eyes meet, there's a moment of silence. His lingering gaze makes your heart skip a beat.
You speak up, your voice soft and hesitant, "If this were a normal date, I would ask you to walk me to my door, and we would share an awkward first date kiss." Daryl looks away, his hand fidgeting in his lap as the tips of his ears turn red.
It's surprising how he can deal with his abusive father, face beatings and neglect, and confront challenges with bravery and strength, yet become shy and unsure the moment you start flirting with him.
"Thanks for taking me out tonight," you say, your smile bright on your face. "I had a great time." Daryl simply hums softly in response.
"You know what? I think I owe you a kiss," you whisper playfully, feeling the need to follow through on your earlier promise. With a sense of excitement, you climb into your seat, moving over the center console to reach him. As you lean in for the kiss, he meets you halfway, and your lips press softly against each other. But it's him that surprises you as he grabs the back of your head, deepening the kiss with ease, and his tongue meeting yours softly.
When you break the kiss, you find yourself kneeling on your seat with your body halfway onto the driver side. You gaze at him, his chest heaving with each breath, and his lips pink from your kiss. Feeling a surge of bravado, you bite your bottom lip mischievously, and your hand darts between his legs, causing him to jump in surprise. But instead of touching him in the way he might have expected, you pull the lever under the seat, causing his chair to jerk backwards.
Feeling nervous and unsure, you climb into his seat, awkwardly straddling his thighs with one knee pressed onto each side of his chair. Your head screams at you, 'What the hell are you doing?' but your hands are shaky as you grab his shoulders. Trembling all over, you realize he is frozen like a statue. "It's okay," you whisper, a tense giggle escaping your lips, although you are not entirely sure if the reassurance is meant for you or for him.
You reach over and return your lips to his, gently parting them with a soft kiss. He seems unsure where to place his hands, so you take them in your own and place them gently on your legs. You can feel the warmth of his callused fingers as you guide them up your exposed thighs with agonizing slowness, causing goosebumps to flare up on your skin. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, but you continue with your dreamlike movement, leading his hands right to your ass until he feels the lines of your white cotton underwear.
"Oh God," Daryl mumbles, breaking the kiss. He doesn't look at you but presses his face to your neck. You feel his fingers graze over the lines of your underwear, sending shivers down your spine. His breath and the heat of his body seem to travel through your skin, pooling between your legs. You bite your lip, and your fingers move to his hair, brushing it back.
You place soft kisses on his forehead and brow, and he responds with open-mouthed kisses on your neck, his tongue igniting your nerve endings. You lose yourself in the feeling of him, your body trembling with desire.
In your awkward position, you feel the zipper of his worn cargo pants digging into your exposed inner thigh, and you shift as if to adjust yourself so you can sit properly.
"ahh," you can't help the noise that leaves your throat. There is a jerk in Daryl's body, as he grips your ass cheeks hard, and your whole-body shakes. You both freeze, and your mind goes completely silent.
You didn't mean to, but when you shifted, you inadvertently pushed yourself right over his hard cock, which now sits nestled between your pussy lips. It was an accident... you wanted to say, but all thoughts are lost as you feel him - so hard, hot, and erect underneath you. You both remain still, but your entire body feels coiled like a steel spring, held tight with the effort to remain so.
His face is still hidden, but you feel the gasp of air that escapes his mouth. All you want to do is move. Your body is screaming, begging you to move. Surprisingly, it's Daryl who moves. Whether willingly or unwillingly, you are unsure. Suddenly, you feel his cock throb underneath you, and it's like a shockwave of pleasure that flares within you.
Daryl," you cry his name. It seems to be all the motivation he needs, because his lips latch onto your neck again, as if he's unable to contain himself, and his body takes over. You feel his hot breath against your skin as he kisses and nips at your neck, sending shivers of pleasure through your body, and he gently thrusts up into you. This time, your moan is loud enough to be heard outside, and his name falls from your lips in a broken whisper. That's all the motivation you need too.
No fantasy, no wet dream, no touching yourself could ever come close to the pleasure of this friction. It's raw, intense, and real. You feel like you're on fire, consumed by the desire that flows between the two of you.
Daryl's body is held just as tightly underneath you as his hands squeeze your hips, pulling you closer to him, and you rock your hips against his. It's like you're in a trance, lost in the sensation, and for a moment, you forget where you are, who you are, and everything else except for the feel of his body against yours. You're lost in the moment, consumed by the pleasure that's washing over you in waves.
You yank him by his hair, your lips connecting with his, tongues tangling. His hands move all over your body, and the strap of your dress falls down your shoulder. You rub against him, meeting his thrusts, and you can feel the hardness and shape of his cock, thick with girth, while your clit pulsates at the feel of him, hungry for more. The only barrier between you is the thin cotton underwear and the soft material of his pants.
You break the kiss, leaning back and placing your hand on his knee for support.
He watches you with dark eyes and swollen lips, his gaze slowly gliding down from your curtain of dark hair sticking to your sweaty skin to your half-opened eyes, then to your parted lips and your breasts, ready to spill out of your dress and barely clinging to your hard nipples. His eyes keep going down and down, and you follow his gaze. As your dress gets pulled at your waist from all the movement, your white underwear is fully exposed. He watches as you rub yourself against his bulging cock.
"Fuckin' beautiful," he whispers, his dilated pupils never leaving the dampness fully within his view. The sight of him watching you does something to your body, and you want him to watch you more. His hand twitches like he wants to touch the wetness, and you want him to touch you there too. But instead, he moves to your breast. There is absolutely nothing you can do to conceal how hard your nipples are. You had forgone wearing a bra with this dress since it gives light support, but now the hard buds are poking through the soft white material, giving him a full view close to his face.
When his fingers run over your nipple, you can't help but let out a loud noise that echoes through the car. You move on him faster, feeling something building and tightening within you. Your old car moves with each thrust, making your breasts bounce gently. You watch in a daze, unable to stop it, as one side of your dress slides down lower, the material grazing past your nipple and fully revealing your breast. You let out a soft cry, shameless at your exposure to him. Your body feels too good to stop and cover, but part of you also wants him to see you, all of you.
You watch him, lips parted with anticipation, as he softly presses his lips to your nipple. You throw your head back and bite your finger to keep yourself from mewing out loud. He thrusts up harder, and you can feel the head of his cock flicking against your clit. At that moment, you think you are going to die from this fire, burn right in his lap. Your whole-body shudders, and he grabs firmly onto one of your ass cheeks and guides you onto him.
"You feel so good," you tell him, and you let out the soft whimper, when he replies in kind, taking your nipple in his mouth, those lips you love so much has caught your swollen little bud, and he sucks gently. You almost stopped breathing; your mouth is open but no noise escapes. Oh God. Everything clench, as if he is already deep inside of you, and you bite your lip hard to keep from speaking all the dirty thoughts running in your head, but of course you have no control.
"I want you inside me, Daryl, I want you to fuck me," your voice is shaky, but he hears you because you can feel his cock throb uncontrollably. "I want you to fuck me so bad!"
You let out a cry as he yanks the other side of your dress, now exposing both of your breasts. His lips close around the untouched nipple, and he sucks hard, setting off gentle fireworks inside of you. Your movements become desperate, yet him tonguing your nipples like this is better than anything you could imagine.
"Daryl," his name falls from your lips. You've never been this wet in your entire life, and as your panties cling to your dripping pussy, you wonder if you're leaving stains on his pants.
Your head is thrown back, and his throbbing cock rubs your clit firmly. At the same time, his teeth graze the stiff bud. At that little bite, your whole body tightens, and as if there's a rubber band that's been stretching deep inside you, it finally snaps. You buckle slightly, and he immediately sucks your nipple harder. Your toes curl, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let out a silent scream. A harsh shudder passes through you, and you clench and unclench, feeling your wet and slick panties drenched completely.
You collapse into his arms, your body exhausted and sticky with sweat. His fingers glide down your spine as he holds you close, and you lay there as tingling sensation travel through your body. You pull back to gaze at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips. He's as breathless as you are, and the evidence of his desire is still pressed against your thigh. He's not done.
Your hand moves down to the buckle of his pants, and the other sneaks under his shirt, eager to explore more of him, to feel more of his skin, and to return the pleasure he just gave you. However, he catches your hand halfway up his stomach and presses it against his skin.
"It's okay, sweetheart. I just want to feel more of you," you whisper softly. "You don't have to hide anything from me, Daryl. I've got you," you tell him, caressing his skin where he is holding you firmly.
He hesitates, his words caught in his throat. Despite the intimacy you just shared, he is afraid to reveal his vulnerability. However, you hope that by trusting him and exposing yourself to him, he will do the same for you. You understand that after everything he has been through, it must be difficult for him to uncover that part of him, to let someone truly see him. So, you decide to help him and nudge him a bit, "I know about your scars," you reveal, your lips brushing against his temple. "You don't have to hide from me."
His reaction is immediate. In one swift motion, he grasps both your legs and almost flings you off him as he steps out of the car. You fumble, banging your knee against the steering wheel as you try to cover yourself and step out of the car. Daryl paces like a caged animal in front of you, his face twisted in anger, his hands balled into fists at his sides, and his nostrils flared. You watch with wide eyes, his breathing hard and his body stiff.
"What the fuck!" he growls, his eyes narrowing defensively, glare set on you. "I ain't never told nobody, not even my own brother, so how the fuck do you know?" his voice is raspy and shaking with anger.
You stare at him in shock, and it takes you a moment to understand what he's talking about. "I saw it that day when you fought those guys," you tell him honestly, trying to keep your voice calm. "One of them pulled your shirt." You take a step toward him, your hand reaching out gently. "But Daryl, it's just me."
He huffs and takes a step away from you. "So what?" he spits, his expression turning darker. "Just 'cause you've seen my scars ain't mean you know shit about me!" he hisses.
"Oh my god, Daryl, seriously?" you exclaim, taking a step back. "It's like every time I take two steps with you, you take three steps back. I'm trying here."
"Ain't nobody asked you," Daryl snaps, his quick temper rising. "You're the one who asked to see me, remember? You're the one who keeps throwin' yourself at me."
You jerk back, as if you've been physically struck, hurt and anger welling up inside you. "Throwing myself at you?" you hiss, your words dripping with venom. "Are you talking about what just happened in the car or the few times I've kissed you?"
"If you didn't want me, all you had to do was say so," you continue, feeling humiliated and vulnerable. Was that how he saw it, you throwing yourself at him? Had you imagined your connection with Daryl all in your head? Was it all one-sided?
Daryl mutters something, but you can't look at him, your eyes filling with tears. Did you really throw yourself at him? You can't help feeling embarrassed and ashamed.
But then you catch his face, and he seems taken aback by the sight of your tears. As humiliation and anger swirl inside, you march up to him and, with a frustrated cry, kick him right in the shin. You hear him say "ouch," but you don't acknowledge it.
"I've never touched anyone the way I've touched you and trusted you. Do you know how hard it is to be vulnerable like that?" you spit, wiping your angry tears. "You're a fucking asshole, you know that? All you had to do was say so." Not giving him a chance to respond, you storm off to your car.
With a resounding bang, you slam the door shut, the engine roaring to life, and the tires screeching as you peel out of the parking lot. In the rearview mirror, Daryl stands frozen, watching your departing car with his fingers clenched in his hair. He turns and kicks his motorcycle in a fit of rage, and it crashes to the ground with a deafening boom.
As you drive away, tears pour down your face, and a jumbled mix of emotions consume you: hurt, confusion, and anger all at once. How had the intimacy you had just shared taken such a wrong turn?
Your mind races with thoughts of Daryl: his scars, his vulnerability, and your own insecurities. Perhaps you had rushed him, and you weren't as strong and understanding as you wanted to be. Maybe you weren't ready to handle someone else's pain and trauma.
At the same time, you can't justify Daryl's unfair reaction, even though he can be an impulsive and quick-tempered person. You pull over to the side of the road and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. You wipe away your tears and focus on the road ahead. The last thing you want is for your mother, or even worse, your father to see you in this state.