Red River Blue

Chapter 87

Harley didn't mind being quiet. But she preferred to get where she was going as quickly and efficiently as possible. Staying with the herd and moving at the pace of the dead was an exercise in extreme patience for her. She reminded herself again that they weren't really going anywhere anyway. They were just marching the dead around to attract more of the dead. Then the walkers they collected would be shuffled off to join Alpha's hoard. Harley still hadn't personally been taken to the area where Alpha was keeping her massive hoard. So she didn't have a plan yet on how to destroy it. But at least Negan knew where it was, so they were better off than when they arrived.

"Can we make a stop?," Harley whispered, only speaking once she'd shouldered up next to Beta. The man nodded, signaling to those that were close enough to see him that they were to continue on with the herd. Then he turned and began to shuffle along behind Harley, following where she led.

The main herd stuck together. But a small bunch broke off, following Harley and Beta through the woods to the east. Walking among the dead felt strange. It felt unnatural. Harley never got this close to a walker unless she was stabbing it through the head. With them this close, she found herself staring at the reanimated corpses and wondering who they were and how they died.

Harley pointed at an opening in the woods, signaling to Beta that the place she was looking for was up ahead. There was a cabin in the clearing. She'd seen it a few times when she was hunting and always meant to come back and investigate. But then Alpha claimed the area. And Harley wasn't allowed to come back. Until now.

When Harley noticed a few landmarks that indicated the cabin was nearby, an idea started brewing in her mind. Waiting on this big dummy to make his move on her was becoming more tiresome than marching around with his stupid walker army. She thought maybe the fool could do with a little encouragement in the right direction. Or at least enough privacy to provide him with an opportunity.

Harley lowered herself to the ground in the center of a small garden area outside the cabin. Most of the place was overrun by weeds. But the section where some hardy winter greens were planted was still going strong. Harley ripped off a tender leafy chunk of kale, popping it into her mouth and chewing as she began to strip the rest of the plants bare.

"I'll get us some fish on the way back to go with these," Harley whispered.

Beta didn't say anything. But he was smiling a little when he lowered himself to the ground opposite her and started helping. They picked the small patch clean, staining the tips of their fingers green as the dead shuffled mindlessly around them. Once Harley wrapped the greens in a clean hanky and stuffed them down into the small drawstring bag she had slung over her shoulder, they both silently rose and prepared to rejoin the herd. Or at least that's what Harley was pretending she was going to do. Really she had other plans.

Once Beta's back was to her, Harley pulled her knife from her belt. Pushing up her sleeve, she ran the sharpened knife blade down the length of her forearm, making a long shallow cut that would bleed enough to look like a serious injury even though it wasn't. Shoving her knife back into her sheath, Harley yelped as she tossed herself to the ground on top of a busted section of fence. Beta turned, moving quickly to haul her back onto her feet. His eyes widened when he spotted the blood. It wouldn't take long before the smell caught the attention of the dead. The big man clamped his hand down over Harley's arm, trying to staunch the bleeding.

"My ankle," Harley hissed, glancing around at the dead with great concern. "It twisted when I fell. I can't run."

Beta scooped Harley up into his arms like she weighed no more than a child. Holding her against his chest, he bolted for the cabin. Thankfully, the door was unlocked. He set her down inside, swinging the door shut behind them and grabbing a chair to brace it in case the dead started trying to push in.

"Lemme see," he ordered, gesturing towards Harley's arm. She held it out, displaying her injury. He gripped her arm with his thumb and forefinger, gently turning her arm to get a better look at the long bloody cut. Releasing her, the big man disappeared further into the cabin. Harley could hear him rattling around in what she assumed was the bathroom. She tossed her mask off first. Then she unbuttoned her shirt, pulling it off carefully so that no more fresh blood would get on it. Harley headed for the sink. She wasn't sure why. There was little chance that anything was going to come out of the faucet. But old habits die hard. She always checked the faucets even if she knew nothing was going to come out. Twisting the handle, Harley didn't expect anything to happen. Instead, there was a sputtering noise followed by a few weird pops. And that was followed by water. Rusty colored at first, it quickly turned cold and clear.

"Holy shit," Harley exclaimed, sticking her hand under the clean running water. Her injury momentarily forgotten, she rifled through a nearby cupboard, grabbing the cleanest looking glass and rinsing it out before she filled it from the tap. Harley chugged the water, filled her glass, and chugged it again. She was sipping glass three when Beta reappeared with a brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide in his hand.

"There's water," Harley whispered, handing him her glass. Beta took a small sip first. Once he was sure the water was clean, he did what Harley just did, chugging down glass after glass until his thirst was actually quenched for once. Harley held her arm out over the sink, fiddling with the knobs on the sink while Beta poured peroxide over her forearm. She ignored the burning sting, more concerned with checking the temperature of the water with the fingers of her other hand.

"There's not only water," she said, "...there's hot water!" Harley looked up, noticing that the man at her side was looking at her with a curious expression on his face. What?," she asked.

"You didn't flinch," he observed. "Didn't that burn?" When Harley didn't react to it, at first he thought maybe the peroxide had lost its potency. But he saw the long cut on her arm bubbling as the liquid did its work. There was no way that didn't sting like a bitch.

"I've had worse," she answered with a shrug. Harley thought Beta ought to try pushing out a nine pound baby with no anesthetics, then see if a little peroxide still made him flinch. "Is there a shower in that bathroom?"

Beta nodded, shaking his head at Harley as she took off down around the corner towards the bathroom. Despite what Harley said outside, she didn't appear to be favoring either of her ankles. And the cut on her arm looked too straight and clean to have been from the fence she fell on. She must have done it to herself, Beta thought. The girl was obviously playing some sort of game with him. He just wasn't sure what kind. For a moment, Beta wondered if the young woman had lured him to this cabin for some sort of ambush. The issue with that theory was that she seemed much more interested in the hot running water than she was in attacking him. And if she wanted to stab him in the back or slit his throat, she'd had ample opportunity to do so before now. He stood there in total confusion, unable to think of any other reason why Harley might want to be alone with him.

Beta headed towards the sound of the running shower. By the time he reached the doorway, Harley already had her clothes off and piled up on the bathroom counter. The sliding door to the shower was open. And he watched as she stepped over the rim of the tub and slid under the water. The bathroom was slowly filling with curls of steam. Harley moaned as the hot water sluiced down over her curves. The noise went straight to his groin. His body moved forward into the bathroom of its own volition. Like he was responding to the call of a siren instead of Harley's soft moans. But once he was there next to her, Beta wasn't sure what his next move was going to be. He hadn't taken his clothes off in a long time. And he hadn't undressed in front of another person since before the turn.

"Are ya comin' in here?," Harley asked. "...or are ya just gonna keep standin' there like a total fuckin' creep?"

Beta wasn't expecting the laugh that shook his chest. The last time he laughed was like the last time he undressed. He couldn't remember it. He hesitated with his hands on the lapels of his jacket. One more look at the water running down over Harley's ample breasts and he was shrugging it off and tossing it on the bathroom counter next to her things. It felt more like he was peeling himself rather than undressing. His clothes had become like a second layer of skin. When Beta stepped forward towards the shower, the only thing he'd yet to remove was the mask on his face.

Harley leaned out of the shower, reaching up and putting her hand on the back of his neck. Her hand was warm and damp. And she used it to pull his face towards hers. The kiss started soft. Like a whisper. And Beta was so focused on the way her lips felt against his, he didn't realize she'd pushed his mask off until it hit the bathroom floor near his feet. Ignoring that for the moment, he deepened the kiss as he stepped into the shower with her.

His hands roamed over her body, reading her skin like braille as the hot water pounded against his back. The tips of his fingers lingered on the X shaped scar on her lower back. It was just one in a roadmap of scars that marked her as a warrior. A true survivor.

There wasn't much room to maneuver in the small space. But Harley still cringed back slightly, glancing down with some concern at the dark muddy water running off his body.

"I need a minute," he said, his usual monotone tempered with a hint of pleading. Harley tiptoed up, pressing one more kiss against his lips before she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel she took off a shelf above the toilet and shook the dust from. She grabbed a few of the bandaids Beta found in the bathroom cabinet, using them to staunch the bleeding cut on her forearm.

Harley already twisted the back of her hair up into a sloppy bun on top of her head before she ducked under the hot stream of water. She pulled it loose as she padded down the short hallway, peeking inside the one bedroom in the place. Tucking her towel around her, Harley pulled the dusty comforter off the bed, tossing it in a pile on the floor. Her intention was to lean back on the bed and wait for him there, without the towel on. But Harley turned, pausing mid-motion when she saw that there was an old beat up acoustic guitar leaning against the opposite wall. Harley hadn't played her guitar since Beth died. Because every time she tried, she was consumed with rage and the grief that always followed it.

Harley ran her finger down the neck of the guitar before she lifted the instrument into her arms. She perched on the edge of the bed, strumming her fingers over the strings and twisting the pegs slightly to tune it. She wasn't sure why. But it was one of Beth's favorite songs that began to flow out of her as she strummed. The last time Beth played it for her was when Harley was recovering in the infirmary after she gave birth to her daughter. Harley could remember looking down at Monroe and being in awe that she just shit an actual whole human being out of herself. Everyone thought Harley named Monroe after the girl's deceased father, Spencer Monroe. But Beth actually picked her daughter's name. From this song.

…They hung a sign up in our town

"If you live it up, you won't live it down"

So she left Monte Rio, son

Just like a bullet leaves a gun

With her charcoal eyes and Monroe hips

She went and took that California trip

Oh, the moon was gold, her hair like wind

Said, "don't look back, just come on, Jim"...

Harley stopped the song abruptly when she realized she had an audience. Her mouth dropped open slightly. Beta not only showered the filth off, he must have found some scissors in the bathroom. Because he'd also trimmed off several years worth of dirty matted beard. In theory, Harley knew there was a good looking man under the mask and the multiple layers of matted hair and filth. She had a poster of him hanging on her wall for years. But that knowledge did not prepare her for the sight of him in the doorway wearing nothing but a towel that was slung low around his narrow hips. And in that moment, she was certain that the plan to have her seduce Beta and trick him into turning on Alpha was quite possibly the absolute best horrible idea Negan ever had.

Harley didn't realize the guitar was slipping from her hands until Beta darted forward and grasped it by the neck to keep it from hitting the floor. Once the instrument was in his hands, he looked down at it with a mixed expression of longing and sadness. He tried to hand the guitar back to Harley but she shook her head.

"You play," she suggested.

Beta realized at that moment that Harley knew who he was. Or at least, she knew who he used to be before the turn. And based on the fact that she didn't react to finally seeing his face, she must have known before now and just didn't say anything.

"How long have you known?," he asked.

"Since the day by the creek," Harley admitted. They both knew that she knew who he was. There was no point in denying it now. "I recognized yer voice."

Beta smiled as he looked down at the guitar in his hands. For most of his life, he didn't go a single day without playing. Music was not just a passion for him. It was life. And running his fingers over the strings felt like home. He strummed the guitar, playing a few chords and smiling when he realized that Harley had already tuned the long neglected instrument. So he didn't have to. He ran through a long list of songs he could play for Harley, finally settling on his old standby. The song that always got him laid when he played it for a beautiful girl. He took one more look at her before he started to strum the guitar and sing.

…Been flying solo for so long, nobody's singing a harmony

Up there just me and my shadow, no base, no guitar, no tambourine

And I found you like a melody, you were singing in the same key as me

We had 'em dancing in the streets

I don't wanna be a one man band

I don't wanna be a rolling stone alone

Putting miles on a run-down van

Baby, we can take our own show on the road

I'll lay down the beat, you'll carry the tune

We'll get tattoos, and we'll trash hotel rooms

Baby, take my hand

I don't wanna be a one man band…

Harley was smiling when he finished the song. She lifted her arms, shaking out her hair before she gave him a mocking grin.

"How many girls have you played that for?," she asked. Beta returned her grin before he answered.

"A few…," he admitted, lowering the guitar to the floor and leaning it against the side of the bed.

Reaching across the small space between them, he wrapped his arm around her slim waist and pulled her closer to him. Her lips met his again. But this time their kiss was long and lingering. When he parted her lips with his tongue, she moaned softly into his mouth. And when he reached for the towel that was covering her body, the nervous fluttering feeling he had in the bathroom was gone. It was strange the way his former self was able to push forward and take over. Just like that. And the famous musician inside him was not nervous or unsure about what to do with the beautiful woman that was naked in his lap. It was hardly the first time he'd been in this situation. Though he was quite certain that this particular woman was different from the groupies and bar flies he was used to bedding. Not only was Harley a warrior, everything about her was absolutely perfect. From the collection of scars that marred her otherwise soft skin to the full wild tangle of her hair, there was nothing he would change about her.

Harley was prepared to fake it. But the way her body was responding to his touch, she knew that wasn't going to be necessary. For someone that acted so fucking awkward, Beta obviously knew what he was doing when he took her in his arms. She could already feel the heat pounding between her legs just from the way he was kissing her. By the time he sucked one of her tight pink nipples between his lips, rolling the other one between his fingers, she was writhing against him like a cat in heat.

Releasing her, he pushed himself back slightly further onto the bed and pulled the towel around his waist open. Harley followed the movements of his hands with her eyes, gasping a little when she saw that what he had under the towel was proportionate to the rest of his giant body. She didn't have much basis for comparison, having only ever been with two men. But she was still quite sure that his erection was much larger than average. And for a moment she was worried that his dick might not fit inside her without ripping her apart.

"Tell me if it hurts and I'll stop," he whispered, pulling her back onto his lap. Her thighs were spread, her knees resting on the bed against the outsides of his hips.

As he parted Harley's lips with his tongue, his hand slid between her thighs. She felt him drag his fingers across her slick folds. Gently spreading them, he began to circle her clit with the calloused tip of his finger. When she started to buck her hips against his touch, he pulled his hand away. Grabbing the base of his dick, he rubbed her clit with his swollen cockhead instead of his fingers before dragging it down and lining it up with her opening. He gripped her hip with the other hand, holding her in place as he thrust upward. The head of his dick was broad and a shade darker than the shaft. And she cried out when he penetrated her with it. Harley made a vain attempt to lift her hips up and away. The stretching burn of her insides was almost too much. But he had her anchored in place. With the head of his dick already forced inside her, he grabbed her hips with both hands.

One thumb dipped in, rubbing her clit roughly back as he began to thrust into her. Her desire was dripping out of her, coating his dick and easing his entry. With each thrust, he slid a little more of his thick cock inside her. Her nails were digging into his back and Harley squeezed her eyes shut, feeling like she was being split in half in the best possible way. He kept going until she felt his balls against her parted cheeks and every last inch of him was buried deep inside her. She felt impossibly full, like he was touching sensitive spots deep inside her that she didn't even know were there before now.

With her fully seated, Beta leaned back until he was lying on the bed with his feet on the floor. She was still sitting up, impaled on his dick. Harley leaned forward, bracing her hands against his chest. Just that slight movement was enough to make her insides flood with heat. She kept going, leaning forward until her breasts were pressed against his broad chest. He smiled when she kissed him before she sat back up and began to rock her hips. Her movements were controlled at first. But before long her breasts were bouncing with the jerky movement of her hips. He moaned when she arched her back and came.

Beta didn't withdraw when he changed their position, He simply held Harley against him and stood up. Turning around, he shuffled across the bed on his knees until he could lay Harley down with her head on the pillows. Grasping her hands, he pinned them above her head, holding both her slim wrists in one hand. He used his other hand to keep some of the weight of his body from crushing down on her as he began to fuck her. Her legs were wrapped around his waist. And she was crying out with every thrust, her insides already sensitive from her first orgasm. She almost sounded surprised when she came again. Her insides exploded with heat and black dots swam in front of her eyes. The fluttering spasms put him over the edge and he came with her, filling her tight well with the last eight years of pent up sexual frustration.

Harley wasn't sure at exactly what point she lost consciousness. The last thing she remembered was cuddling naked against the man she just tricked into bedding her. And when she blinked her eyes open again, Beta was still holding her gently in his arms. But both of them were fully dressed. Even her boots were on and tied.

"Hi," she said, yawning and stretching her shoulders out before she relaxed back against him.

"Are you happy?," he asked, a hint of concern in his deep voice. "I didn't hurt you?" Harley shook her head. She felt a little sore between her legs. But she wasn't hurt. The insides of her thighs took the worst of his thrusts, where his bony hips dug into her pale flesh.

"No," she said, sliding her body up so she could press a kiss to his lips. "I'm not hurt. You were perfect." She paused, trying her hardest to look sad and depressed about what she was going to say next. "I just wish we could be together like this all the time," Harley lamented.

"What do you mean?," he asked her. "We can be together whenever we want."

Harley raised her eyebrow at him, looking at Beta like he was the stupidest person on earth. Which really wasn't a stretch. Because he really was dumb enough to fall for the bullshit she'd been spoon feeding since the moment they met. Yer perfect. I wish we could be together all the time. What a load of total bullshit. He was a fucking amazing musican. And if she was forced to ride his monster dick a few more times before she slit his throat she really wouldn't mind. But that was where her liking for him ended. No matter how talented he was on stage or in bed, Beta still needed to die for what he did to her friend. To Beth.

"Are ya tryin' ta get me killed?," Harley asked. Beta looked at her in total confusion. "Alpha," Harley hissed. "You've got to know she's in love with you. She wants you fer herself. If she finds out we've been fuckin', she's gonna kill me fer sure."