For anyone who can guess the video game mentioned without being mentioned, Jamie appreciates you and wants to be friends.
Looking up from underneath
Fractured moonlight on the sea
Reflections still look the same to me
As before I went under
And it's peaceful in the deep
Cathedral where you cannot breathe
No need to pray, no need to speak
Now I am under all
And it's breaking over me
A thousand miles down to the sea bed
Found the place to rest my head
And the arms of the ocean are carrying me
And all this devotion was rushing out of me
And the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me
But the arms of the ocean delivered me
Never let me go by Florence and the machine
Chapter 27 - Devotion
Carol is increasingly concerned about Daryl's behavior as he withdraws from her and seemingly from everyone else as well. Despite her best efforts to support him, she is at a loss as to what to do. To make matters worse, his brother's constant teasing only seems to make things worse.
It wasn't until Carol realized that the root of the problem was Charles, the soldier who has feelings for Alice, that everything fell into place. Carol has always been an observant person, and it didn't take her long to connect the dots. Charles' obvious love for Alice was made even more clear by his reaction when she got shot, and Carol suspects that he has acted on those feelings after Alice's recovery. This, in turn, caused the breakdown of Daryl's relationship with the Doctor and explains his current distress and isolation.
The previous night, Carol had heard the sound of Daryl's motorcycle as he arrived back at the prison, and she had hoped to catch a glimpse of him during dinner. However, he was nowhere to be found. This morning, as she stepped out into the chaos of the outdoor kitchen to help with breakfast, she noticed Daryl's motorcycle parked not too far away. She felt relieved to see that he was at least taking some time to rest given that he has been struggling lately.
With a smile on her face, Carol jumps in to help the cooks prepare the meal for the day. As the breakfast rush dies down, she decides to take Daryl his meal. She loads up a steel bowl with oatmeal and slices of the deer meat that one of the Dixons had caught, and one of the cooks had grilled over the outdoor fire. However, before she can set off, a soft voice interrupts her from behind.
"Good morning, Carol," the voice says. When she turns around, she finds herself face-to-face with Caleb Subramanian, the newest addition to their group. Known as Dr. S, he is a pediatrician who has been shadowing Dr. Alice since his arrival, as he will be taking over as the primary doctor for the prison once Alice's group departs.
"Hi, Doctor S, would you like some breakfast?" Carol offers, gesturing towards the container of oatmeal in front of her.
"No thank you, I already ate," replies Dr. S with a nod, as he speaks in a gentle manner, and always seems eager to help. "Have you seen Dr. Hart? I've been looking at her inventory of antibiotics and it doesn't match what we have."
"I haven't seen her all morning," Carol replies with a shake of her head. "I just need to make a quick delivery and then I'll help you find her. In the meantime, you should probably check with Charles." She points out the soldier, who is sitting not too far on the outdoor benches, eating oatmeal and reading some sort of botany book. After all, as the female Doctor's keeper, if anyone, it would be Charles that would know her location.
Armed with a plan, she heads towards the eastern gate guard tower. She arrives at the entrance in no time, balancing the food in one hand as she opens the door in the other, before she begins to climb the steps. As she makes her way halfway up the stairs, she suddenly pauses. For a moment, she thinks her ears are playing tricks on her. But then she hears it again, and her mind immediately fears the worst, her panicked mind conjuring up scenarios.
It is a moan, and she can't shake the feeling that Daryl is hurt. He didn't show up last night for dinner, which means he must be hurt. Knowing him, he could be injured and hiding it from everyone. Her heart races, and she runs up the steps, imagining the horror. What if he's been bitten by a walker?
As she reaches the last step, her hand shaking, she freezes again. This time, it isn't a sound of pain but a cry of pleasure. It's a woman's voice, and she hears slapping sounds of skin against skin. Loud grunt following each smack, "Fuck me harder!" the woman cries out. Carol cups her mouth, almost stumbling with the food in hand, feeling her face turning red, when she realizes exactly what she walked into. Her initial reaction is to run, but her feet are frozen, unsure of what to do. "Yes, yes, yes, fuck yes!" the woman continues.
Biting her lips, Carol carefully places the food by the door, her face growing redder by the second as the couple's screams of passion echoes all around her. She then takes a few quiet steps down, trying to compose herself, before she sprints down the stairs at the same speed she ascended. She realizes that she has discovered the whereabouts of their missing female doctor.
Once she is outside, she is greeted by the site of a panicked Charles running into the prison across the yard, followed by Dr. S. She lets out a sigh, knowing she has to be the one to tell him that she has found his companion, who is currently occupied… very occupied.
The whole night was a blur, and you barely slept. You both went at it until the sun peered through the glass observation window. You have never been fucked like this before, and it's unlike anything you had experienced with him or anyone else in your past relationships. It felt as though he had been holding back for 15 long years, and now he was trying to make up for lost time, and unload it all at once. By the time the third round came to a close, your body could no longer keep up and you collapsed from exhaustion, slipping into a deep slumber right after reaching climax.
It didn't take long for Daryl to wake you up though, an hour or two later, with his face buried between your legs. You couldn't fathom how he had such stamina because your body was sore and sensitive, and you were ready to tap out.
So here you are using your mouth to please him when your body couldn't keep up. You can feel his thigh muscles contract as he grows hard and warm in your hand, the taste of his pre-cum mixed with your own juice lingers on your tongue as you lick and suck him eagerly.
"Fuck!" Daryl lets out a breathless grunt, his fingers digging into your hair. As you are usually the more vocal one, you suspect he must be really turned on. Moaning with him, your lips still around his cock, your tongue explores every inch of him. You feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch, and throb against your tongue. With one hand at the base, you lightly jerk him, while the other hand caresses his thigh.
As you flick your tongue to the underside of his head, he spasms in response. You suck him back into your mouth, swirling your tongue all around him, up and down, back and forth. The sound he makes gives you goosebumps, and you realize just how much you miss unraveling him like this… watching him surrender himself to you like this.
You coat him with your saliva, slicking him up from root to tip with your tongue, eliciting groans from somewhere deep in his gut. You pay attention to his every movement, from the twitching of his fingers to the rhythm of his breathing, as you take him in your mouth. With a wet pop, you release him momentarily, running your tongue down the underside of his shaft.
Daryl always loved to dominate you, yet submit to you in equal measure, and right now he's abandoning control, gripping your hair tightly and watching you with soft, intense eyes. You hold eye-contact while taking him fully in your mouth, making sure to cover your teeth with your pursed lips. You suppress the urge to gag as he pushes against the back of your throat, but you continue to relax your jaw and breathe through your nose.
Daryl mutters your name above you, his muscles flexing as you work on him with your mouth, hands, and tongue. You caress his skin with your fingers as you move your head up and down, and his hand grips your head a little harder as you take him back into your mouth, deep-throating him again while focusing on your breathing.
"Fuck!" he curses again as he yanks you by your hair towards him, his cock leaving your mouth with a pop as he firmly pushes your back against the mattress. He swiftly leans over you, his knee parting your legs, and presses his lips to yours. As his tongue meets yours, you wonder if he can taste himself on you. You break the kiss with a groan in his neck, feeling overwhelmed by the intensity and heat exuding off him, and you wonder if you'll make it out of this guard tower alive by the time he's done with you.
As he slides into you, you feel wet and open, and he fills you up completely. Your back arches slightly off the mattress, pushing into his chest as he begins to move slowly. The multiple orgasms you had earlier left you wet but tight, something he seems to appreciate based on the sounds he makes.
The sensation of being filled up by him warms you in a way you can't describe. It's a toe-curling, tingling sensation that leaves you gasping with every thrust. His pubic hair rubs against your clit, not enough to make you come, but enough to make you push your hips up towards his, meeting his movements to get more.
He lifts your thigh higher, giving him more room to move, while dropping kisses everywhere he can reach. Mouth, jawline, collarbone, shoulder — he covers every inch of skin with his lips. You hold onto him tightly, one hand clutching his bicep, the other arm around his back, as he steadily fucks you into the mattress.
With each forceful thrust, he pushes deeper into you, and your breath catches as your gaze locks with his. There is a possessiveness in his eyes that makes you feel owned, and his grip on your thigh tightens as he spreads you wider. You fight the urge to let yourself get lost in the pleasure, and force yourself to keep your eyes open, watching him as he moves above you.
Even with him on top, you arch your back, rolling your hips to meet his every thrust, desperate for him to fill you up over and over again. His intense gaze roams your face, and when he shifts his angle just slightly, hitting a new spot inside you, you can't help but gasp sharply and close your eyes, only to have them wide open at his next words.
"Turn around," he abruptly commands, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. "On your knees, sweetheart," he murmurs, his lips grazing against your skin before pulling away. You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you have it in you, but the desire pulsing through your veins is too strong to ignore. Soon enough, you find yourself on all fours, holding onto the pillow for support as you press your face and chest against it, your backside arched and exposed to him.
"Oh god," you whisper, as he positions himself behind you, his erection rubbing against your skin. His hands knead your buttocks, and you let out a whimper, feeling his hand press against your spine before he plunges inside you in one swift motion. You gasp as his balls slap against your clit, your moan muffled by the pillow as he thrusts into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless.
Your mind is a jumbled mess as he grips your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. His movements are hard and fast, the sounds of his grunts mixing with your gasps and the loud slapping of skin against skin echo all around you. You clench the pillow, your toes curling into the blanket as he hits all the right spots with each stroke.
It's as if he was made to fit you perfectly, and you bite into the pillow as his pace quickens. There's no warning as he grabs your hair, and you cry as he pulls you back with a fierce strength that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand wraps around your throat, and you gasp for air as he kisses your neck, his lips sending jolts of pleasure through your body.
You arch your back as far as you can, feeling him slide in and out of you with a delicious friction that ignites every nerve ending in your body. You feel like you're on fire, completely consumed by the sensations he's evoking. In that moment, nothing else matters, as he takes you to the edge of infinity and beyond.
His firm hands explore your stomach and breasts as you match his every thrust, eagerly with breathless passion. However, when his fingers slip down between your legs, you can't help but cry out in ecstasy as he circles your clit. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you cry, the sensation is too much to bear, and you feel yourself clenching tightly around him, causing him to groan in pleasure against your shoulder.
This is the third time he has fucked you since sunrise, and you aren't sure if you can take it anymore. Your body is ablaze with nerve endings firing off in every direction, unsure which way to push or pull. Your legs spasm and flex uncontrollably, and you feel a wave of pleasure wash over you as your vision goes white.
As you fall forward, he falls with you, his hand resting above your head while the other grips your hips. He never stops, his thrusts are relentless, jerking your hips back with such force that it knocks the breath out of you. He slams into you so hard that your feel your knees might bruise against the mattress.
The sound he makes when he comes is dark and animalistic, causing the hair on your body to stand on end. You feel him twitch and spasm inside you, and you clench tightly around him once more, feeling something slide down your thigh. When he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress, you think maybe you died and gone to heaven. Even though you enjoy his body heat burning over you like fire, and his sweat sticking to your skin, soon his weight becomes too bothersome, as you're compressed between his hard frame and stiff mattress. You want to tell him to get off, but you don't have the strength to even move your head.
As you lay on the hard prison mattress, the scent of sex permeating the room, you shut your eyes and let your body sink into the hard prison mattress. You can feel Daryl's weight lifts off of you, signaling an end to the intimate encounter, and you feel your body preparing to shut down. But just as you're about to drift off, you're startled awake by the sensation of a rough fabric wiping between your legs.
"Hey," his voice rumbles close to your ear, his bare chest pressed against your back. You groan, letting him know you're listening, but also expressing your annoyance at being disturbed. "You know, we ain't used no protection last night or this morning," he declares, as if he's just realized it.
You can't help but chuckle, keeping your eyes closed. "Oh, now you got it out of your system, you just noticed, huh?" you tease. "I guess we'll have a baby, a playmate for Judith. I have a feeling it'll be a boy; we'll call him Daryl Jr."
"I'm bein' serious you goofball. You got somethin' in your infirmary for that shit?" he questions, his tone grave. You roll onto your back, opening your eyes to the bright sunlight streaming through the observation window.
"Nope," you laugh. "I had some condoms, but I gave them to Maggie."
His face contorts with worry, and he gazes down at you, his hair tousled, and lips swollen from your previous activities. "Relax," you reassure him, finally taking pity on him. "I have the contraceptive implant."
He looks at you in confusion, so you reach for his hand and guide it to the small, hard nub under your skin on your upper arm. "It's a plastic rod that's inserted underneath the skin, and it releases hormones that prevent pregnancy," you explain.
"It's mandatory for all female MSF staff," you explain, reminiscing about your first mission with Doctors Without Borders. "When we go abroad, we often work in warzones and dangerous locations. We put our lives at risk, and as women, anything could happen to us, so we take the right precautions." You can see his eyebrows furrow, and you know he doesn't approve of your career choice.
"How long does this shit work?" he asks, tapping your hand where the implant is located.
You grin, wiggling your eyebrows. "The one I have is good for six years, and I got it three years ago."
"So, you're sayin'," he leans in close, interest peaking in his voice, "for the next three years, we ain't got to worry?" He presses his lips to yours, then to your neck, causing you to laugh. Suddenly, his stomach roars loudly, interrupting the moment, only to have you laugh louder.
"No, get off me," you tease, covering your face to shield yourself from his kisses. "We're both hungry, so be a dear and go get us some food." You command, knowing you can't go get it yourself since your legs feel like Jell-O from all the activity this morning.
You gently nudge him with your bare feet, coaxing him to get up as he runs his hands up and down your calf. "After I eat, you're going to cuddle with me," you say firmly, watching him get up, knowing that if you don't eat before sleeping, you won't eat at all. "And I'm going to sleep for at least two days - without any interruptions," you add sleepily.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbles as he zips up his pants and grabs the shirt, he had tossed aside last night. You smile, knowing he's not really listening to you, and you hope he will at least let you sleep for four hours before waking you up again.
You press your face deeper into the pillow and close your eyes as he heads to the door. Suddenly, you hear him exclaim, "What the fuck!" and you open your eyes, lifting your head to see what's going on. As you peek past his legs, you see a tray with two bowls sitting by the door. He looks back at you with a confused expression, and you can't help but giggle.
"Room service, hah," you smile, feeling relieved that you don't have to wait for food.
He picks up the tray and brings it over to you, placing it on the floor next to you. You sit up and grab the tray, placing it on your lap. You look at the thick, settled oatmeal and dry meat, as he takes his shirt off again and slides behind you. You lean back on him, as you share the spoon to eat, his hand lazily runs up and down your side, and occasionally planting a soft kiss on your shoulder. You let out a content sigh, feeling grateful for how lucky you are at this moment.
You stand under the cascade of cold water in the prison and close your eyes, tilting your head back to savor the pure bliss that washes over your tired body. Each droplet feels like it's cleansing your sore muscles and aches. Finally, you're able to escape from Daryl's dwelling when he's called away for his night shift at the main gate.
Although you long to stay in the water longer, you know you have to conserve it. With a deep sigh, you turn off the water and step out. After drying off and getting dressed, you slowly make your way back to your prison cell, wrapping the damp towel around your head.
As you approach your cell, you notice Carol sitting on your bed, flipping through one of the cliché romance novels you borrowed from Maggie. She looks up and smiles at you as you enter. "Hey," she says, "I got you dinner." She points to the bowl of stew sitting on the small table by your bedside.
You groan at the sight of it. "You're a freaking angel," you tell her, eyeing the steam rising from the bowl. Unwrapping the towel from your head, you retrieve your brush from your backpack under the bed. You know that if you don't brush your hair now, it will become tangled and more painful later.
"Hey, I'll do it. Just eat before it gets cold," Carol offers, reaching for your brush. You smile at her for a moment before pulling a chair from the corner and sitting in front of her. You've never had any siblings, but you imagine that this is what it would have been like if you had a sister.
You hum happily as the warm stew hits your tongue, the heat seeps through your body after the cold shower you've just taken. The room is quiet except for the sound of Carol running the brush through your long locks.
"So, all is well with you and Daryl?" she asks, and you can't help but smile, knowing this is the reason she came to visit. During your recovery, you've spent long hours talking, and she had sat with you, changed your dressings, and cleaned your wounds. You've gotten a chance to get to know each other, and it was during one of those nights that Carol had told you about her daughter Sophia and her abusive husband, Ed.
As you listened to her talk, her relationship with Daryl made sense. Damaged people understand damaged people, and they are kindred spirits in that sense, as they have both gone through something horrific at the hands of people who are supposed to love them. They've both fought to become their own person and reclaim their lives. With Carol, Daryl feels appreciated, valued, and seen.
As she spoke about her missing daughter and you learned how Daryl had searched for her for days, almost killing himself in the process, she had said, 'In doing so, he did more for my little girl than her daddy ever did.' The thought of that little girl and Daryl had made your stomach tighten. You imagined how he must have seen himself in her, lost in the woods for days, scared and hungry. He wanted to be there for her, to look for her.
Shaking yourself from the thought, you feel Carol's fingers braiding your hair back. "Yeah, we're good," you assure her as you take another spoonful of stew into your mouth.
Turning your head slightly towards her, you speak in a hushed tone, "Actually, I think I got married last night." Her eyes widen in disbelief and her brow creases.
"Married!" Carol exclaims, causing the sound to echo around the hollow prison. You quickly put a finger to her lips, gesturing for her to quiet down before placing your bowl down. "What?!" she whispers, not so quietly.
"He didn't propose or anything like that. He simply asked me for forever, and I said, 'I do' until death do us part," you reveal, finally letting out the nagging thought that has been lingering in the back of your mind. "To be honest with you, I don't think he even realized what he asked," you add as an afterthought.
"Oh, Daryl," she says, smiling widely and shaking her head. "I guess congratulations are in order, Ms. Dixon," she teases, causing you to roll your eyes and feel your neck grow warm at the name. Before you can respond to her playful banter, there's a knock on the metal gate of your cell.
You both turn to look, only to see the elder Dixon standing outside with a sly smirk on his face. "Ladies," he says. "I gotta borrow the doc for a sec'n," he tells Carol. "I've got to show ya somethin'," he says to you, nodding his head down the hallway.
You rise to your feet, signaling to Carol to keep quiet about your recent confession. "Thank you for the hair and dinner," you say, placing a hand on her shoulder before following Merle down the hallway to the next wing of the prison. As you walk, you sense him eyeing you sideways, and you wonder what he wants from you at this late hour.
"Look atcha, sweet cheeks, yer are positively glowin'. Must be that freshly laid look." he chuckles, playfully teasing you. You roll your eyes, realizing he has turned his jabs in your direction. "Ya got yer pipes cleaned and spit-shined, huh." he adds, leading you towards the prison utility room.
"What do you want, Merle?" you ask, pausing by the entrance, eyebrow raised.
"Well ain't this a shame, Is this how ya treat yer new brother-in-law?" he asks, his smirk growing wider as surprise flashes across your face.
"Oh my God," you whisper, wondering if there is such a thing as privacy exists in this place. "You heard that?"
"What kin ah say, these halls are empty n' echo." he shrugs, and you suspect he was searching for you and had walked in during your conversation. "But I gotta give it to ya though, ya must have that gorilla grip if ya had that boy committin' fer life after just one night." he teases.
"You've got ten seconds." You say, trying to hide the smile that threatens to creep onto your face. "If you don't tell me why I'm here, then I'm leaving."
"Yeah, yeah," he dismisses your threat. "Come on over here, ah made somethin' fer ya," he beckons, gesturing towards his workstation. As you step closer, you see two blades laid out, one of them the knife he's been working on for his prosthetic.
Your original idea had been to have it spring-loaded like a switchblade, so the knife could stay hidden when not in use. But now, the blade is mounted on a piece of leather leftover from his inner prosthetic liner. He grabs your wrist with his good arm and straps the leather to it, securing the blade to your hand. It feels heavy and solid, about a foot in length.
Confused, you look up at him, wondering why he is strapping the knife he's been working on for weeks to your hand. He turns your wrist, pointing it away from himself, and presses a button on the side. You jump at the sharp and clear scraping noise as the thick blade slides out past your hand swiftly.
"It was city boy's idea, somethin' 'bout a video game," he explains, and you recall Jamie's affinity for his Xbox. "He thought a spring-loaded knife might not be a good idea dependin' on the force ah exude, but you, on the other hand, ain't strong enough to break it."
"So, we went with a Swiss knife style for mah hand, much simpler but steadier than a bull's horn." Merle then shows you the other knife with a hook locking mechanism, folding and unfolding it effortlessly. "We'll jus' screw this 'un in and be done with it." he says.
You nod slowly, your eyes fixed on the blade resting on your wrist. As you tentatively press the button, the blade quickly retracts sheathing with the same screeching noise. Pressing it again, the blade extends out once more, prompting you to test it several more times.
"Are you sure about this?" you ask, impressed by the ingenuity of it all. You know he's been working on this for a while, collecting different styles of knives and welding equipment, and spending countless hours on the project.
"Yeah, yeah," he waves you off, his good hand fidgeting with the other knife. You bite your lip, watching him and noticing the similarity in his attitude to Daryl.
"Thank you, it's really nice," you say, pulling your shirt down to cover the hidden blade beneath your sleeve. You can't help but wonder why he can't simply apologize for the letter, but perhaps this is his way of expressing his regret.