AN: Here we are, another chapter here. It's the last of Friday night. It's also super long because there was nowhere to cut it.
Smut/sex warning.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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The kisses came easy.
The kisses—barely more than sweet little pecks—exchanged on the porch tasted like beer, and smoke, and a little like citronella.
The kisses that Daryl trailed down Carol's neck while he was waiting to dry the dishes that she washed tasted like lotion and sweat—like Carol.
The kisses that Carol gave Daryl when she'd dried her hands and backed him against the kitchen counter tasted like the sweet wine she'd drank just before pouring the rest out and declaring that she really wasn't in the mood for wine.
The words came easy, too.
"We don't have to," Daryl assured Carol as he caught her, on the way to her bedroom with her tugging at his hand, and took a moment to kiss her in the dark doorway. "If you don't want to, I can wait."
Some of the reality, though—the things they both had to face—was a little bit more complicated.
Carol pulled away, and Daryl let her go. He meant what he'd said. He could wait.
Carol was beautiful. He'd always heard that the eyes were the windows to the soul, but he felt like he could really see so much of her in her eyes. She had a smile that would light up the room, and a laugh that made his heart beat out of control. She was soft and easy to be around.
And if there was any chance in the world—Daryl hardly dared to dream of what there might be a chance—then he could wait however long she needed.
Carol walked into her bedroom and switched on a bedside lamp that bathed the room in a soft glow. She stood, for a moment, seeming to examine the grain in her wood floor. Then she sat on the edge of the bed.
"I didn't mean to trap you here," Carol said. "Or—to make you feel like you're under some obligation to stay, Daryl. And if that's how you feel, then I do apologize."
"The hell are you talking about?" Daryl asked. "I'm not trapped."
"Then—is it me?" Carol asked. "Is there something about me that makes you not want to…"
Daryl's gut reacted a little violently to the immediate realization that she'd read him wrong. She'd misinterpreted his meaning. She was feeling insecure, and that was the last thing he'd intended. At least, though, he knew what she wanted. That knowledge made his heart pound—half in anxiety over the possibility of disappointing her and half in excitement for what might be to come.
Daryl screwed his courage up, telling himself that, no matter how disappointing his actual performance may be, it wouldn't hurt her feelings more than turning her down.
Daryl answered her by crossing the room, quickly to where she was. He answered her by kissing her with every ounce of determination that he could muster. Tasting her mouth only made him want to taste more of it—more of her. He'd taken quick inventory of her outfit. He knew how much she was wearing. He knew how much he had to get through and remove before she was revealed to him.
He remembered her body, vaguely, from that night weeks before. He remembered it being beautiful but, otherwise, he had no specific recollection and his memories grew fuzzier with each moment.
He pushed her legs apart, stepping between them, to allow him to deepen the kisses that he shared with her even as he slipped his fingers under the bottom of her shirt. The shirt was over her head in a moment. She stared at him with pink cheeks. There was something there—some look of being unsure about something—in her eyes. Daryl took a chance that it was a reflection of her being unsure about his reaction to her body, and not being unsure about what they were doing.
He leaned and kissed the tops of her breasts—one and then the other—as they were nestled in her bra. He let his hands run over her rib cage and around to her back. Her skin was soft, and he wanted to bite her though he had no rational reason to want to do so.
Instead of biting her, he struggled with the clasp on her bra for what felt like an eternity—ten or twelve seconds probably—before her fingers came and took over, helping him to free the clasp.
"Perfect," he breathed out as her breasts were freed.
Carol pushed back against him. She came to her feet. She sought more kisses, and she peppered his jaw and neck with sweet pecks. Daryl felt her breath blowing warm against him as she panted as though the kisses brought her pleasure that she could barely contain. He was already growing hard, but the sound of her soft panting only made him grow that much harder.
He caught her hands and stopped them as her fingers began to work their way down the buttons of his shirt. She looked at him, her eyes full of question, as he worked her hands in his.
"If you're like me, you don't remember a lot from—that night," Daryl said. Carol shook her head gently.
"No," she said, practically whispering. "Not—not much."
"I got—scars," Daryl said. "And—they ain't pretty."
"I've got scars, too," Carol offered softly. "Ed left them everywhere."
Daryl laughed nervously to himself and worked her hands in his, the movement of his fingers relieving some of his anxiety.
"But you're beautiful," he offered.
She smiled at him, softly, and it was a beautiful smile. It made his chest ache just to know that he could put that smile on her face.
"Let me see," she said softly. "Please?"
Daryl let go of her hands and nodded. She worked the buttons until the shirt fell loose. Her hands trailed around his chest. The soft touch of her hands on his skin and the warmth of her palms renewed his interest. She kissed his chest with the same tenderness that she'd used to kiss his neck and, as she removed his shirt, she circled around his body.
Daryl closed his eyes, his lungs struggling to pull in enough air, as she gently ran her fingertips over the scars that he knew she was seeing. He sucked in a breath, bringing air into his struggling lungs, and held it—awaiting judgement. He couldn't blame her. They were awful. Garish. And, somehow, he didn't carry them in quite the same manner that Merle carried the ones that decorated his body.
He let the breath out, his lungs still aching, when he felt her lips kiss his back as tenderly as they'd kissed his neck and chest. He felt her face nuzzle against him.
"Beautiful," she breathed out, and when he turned quickly and pulled her around to face him, her blue eyes glittered with dampness. "So strong," she offered, her voice cracking just slightly.
Daryl swallowed. Everything about her—no matter the changes that seemed to take place with every passing second as they floated in some kind of almost dream-like state—everything made him want her more. He wanted to be so close to her that he nearly imagined that he wanted to consume her.
"Do a lot of heavy lifting," he offered, trying to lighten the mood a little.
"I wasn't talking about your muscles, Daryl," Carol offered. "Though—they're nice, too."
He did. He wanted to consume her—or, at the very least, he wanted to come as close to it as he could. He cupped her breast and ran his thumb over the nipple. He watched grow hard with his attention, and his body reminded him of his own situation. He ran his other thumb over the other nipple. He pinched it and Carol bit her lip. A soft moan escaped her.
"Why don't'cha—get on that bed? Put your strong aside for a minute? Just—be soft?"
Carol licked her lip. He could practically feel her anxiety, but she went to stand against the bed.
"Leave these on or off?" She asked, catching the waistband of her pants.
"What do you want?" Daryl asked, dropping the ball back in her court and forcing her to make it clear to him that her intentions and desires hadn't changed. She flicked the button on her pants and visibly sucked in a breath before she worked them down her hips. She came out of everything except her panties, and she sat back on the bed. Her chest heaved as Daryl approached her. Daryl kissed her, and she held the back of his head, requesting that the kiss last longer. "Lay back," Daryl said—half command and half request.
"Being—soft," Carol said. "Makes me nervous."
"You can trust me," Daryl assured her. She did lie back on the bed. Daryl put a knee between her legs to reach her better. He licked her neck. Her collarbone. He tasted her like he wanted. The soft skin of her breasts—so much softer than anything else—gave way differently under his tongue. He drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled it. She moved and ground herself against the knee that rested between her legs. Daryl groaned in response and bit her nipple gently. Her fingernails scratched into his arms as she ground herself harder against his knee and gasped. "You OK?" Daryl asked, releasing her.
Her pupils were dilated dramatically. She nodded and hummed her answer. Daryl smiled to himself. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and worked them down as he kissed the soft skin of her stomach, her muscles jumping at the action. Daryl flicked her panties to the floor to be lost somewhere among the other discarded clothing.
He dipped his head and smelled her—earthy and warm. He caught his thumbs under her knees and lifted them. He kissed the inside of her thigh as he turned her, toed off his shoes as quickly as he could, joined her on the bed, and moved to direct her legs over his shoulders.
"What are you doing?" Carol asked.
"You can say no any time you want," Daryl offered as his only response. "I'm hopin' you won't, but you can." He kissed her stomach again and peppered kisses down to the start of the soft curls.
"You don't have to," Carol said.
Daryl smiled to himself. "Don't have to" and "I don't want" were entirely different things. Daryl licked his lips at the anticipation of the taste of her. He so wanted to taste her.
"One thing I do remember is—you liked this." He laughed to himself. "I've never had a woman push my head down to make sure I knew she wanted her pussy eat."
"Oh shit…oh…please…tell me I didn't," Carol lamented, covering her face with her hands. Daryl laughed to himself and worked her thigh muscles in his hands. In response, he dipped his head and, catching her clit, he suckled it the same way that he'd suckled her nipple before. She raised up off the bed, forcing her hips toward him in an involuntary manner and let out a choked noise.
"You did," Daryl offered. "But—don't get me wrong. It was hot as hell. And—I liked it." He dipped his head and suckled her again. Her face was still covered with her hands, but she'd relaxed. She moaned and moved into him again. He caught her hips, lifting her. "I like it," he said, licking her, paying special attention to the spot he knew she wanted him to tease. She cried out and moved her hands, this time grabbing up the blanket and twisting it in her fingers. "Shit—I like you," Daryl said, almost feeling like he'd lose control and come just from her reaction to his attentions. Still, he stayed at his work until her body shook and jerked every time he touched it. He stayed until she pulled at him, begging him to kiss her—to come to her.
Her breath was ragged when he did kiss her. She was shaking—trembling. Her fingers were clumsy as she tried to get his pants unbuttoned.
"Let me help," he offered. He climbed off the bed long enough to shuck his pants and underwear—there was no need being coy, at this point. He burrowed a second in his pants, found his wallet, and pulled out the two condoms he'd tucked there. He tossed one at the nightstand and kept the other in his hand as he rejoined her on the bed and kissed her again, her hands trailing over his body and her fingertips dancing along the ridges of his scars in a way that he'd never allowed anyone—ever—to touch him.
Carol's hand trailed down his arm and found his hand. She took the condom from him, and he let her have the foil-wrapped package. She smiled at him, raising her eyebrow.
"Prepared?" She teased.
"I thought you might appreciate it," Daryl offered.
"And I thought I was the one that—thought of inviting you to stay," Carol said. "I thought it was my idea."
Daryl's stomach clenched and his chest tightened slightly.
"It's not what you think," he said.
Carol's smile faded slightly. He was aware of her body beneath his. He was aware of the warmth of her as they casually rested together. He was aware of the slight release of pressure as his body focused on the conversation instead of the action that lie ahead—as long as he hadn't ruined the moment entirely.
"You're just prepared in case—anything comes up?" Carol asked. "Anytime or…with anyone?"
Daryl's stomach twisted—not at her words, but at her tone of voice. His body responded to the sound of betrayal. He ducked his head and kissed her again. He rolled off of her enough to use his hand to brush her face affectionately with his fingertips.
"You want honesty? I try to always carry 'em. I always mean to carry 'em. Sometimes I forget, but…it's somethin' Merle's always told me to do. So—yeah—I try to remember to carry 'em, just in case. And—I use 'em when I got a reason to, but…it's been real rare the occasion when I've needed 'em. That's the truth. But the rest of the truth is—I didn't have 'em that night when I went to Salty's. When I met you. I've carried 'em since then. But—truthfully—I haven't thought about usin' 'em with nobody else but you since then. And that's the gospel."
Daryl caressed her face with his fingers, and then with his lips. She returned his kisses, nipping his lip in response.
"You've thought about using them with me?" She asked.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"At the risk of soundin' like a pig? Ever since we first got coffee."
Carol hummed and smiled to herself. She reached her hand down and stroked him. Whatever interest his dick had lost in what they were doing was immediately returned with a vengeance. She looked pleased as he surged back to life in her hand. She leaned and kissed his jaw.
"In that case," she said, "you better not try to wait much longer." She showed him the condom she was holding. "You need help?"
"Better if I do it, honestly," Daryl said, sitting up and taking it from her. She released him, but she watched him roll the condom on. "Your fingers touchin' me just makes me sure this is going to be damn disappointin' to you. And I'ma apologize for that ahead of time."
"I can't be disappointed," Carol offered. "But—I know something I remember now."
"What's that?" Daryl asked, coming back to kiss her again. He dipped his hand between her legs to tease her clit, making sure that she hadn't lost any interest in the interval. Her body jerked in response, and she opened her mouth to him, but he kept up his work. She panted in appreciation.
"You ought to warn someone about that," Carol said.
"About what?"
"You're very well-endowed, Daryl," Carol said. "And—I don't know if it'll fit, to be honest."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Fit before," he offered.
"Barely," Carol said.
"Don't matter how close it is, as long as it works, right?" Daryl asked. He arranged himself so that he could see what he was doing. He massaged Carol's hips as he changed her position. She was tight—tighter than he remembered, and she pulled away from him, with a moan of disagreement, as he pushed to enter her. He held her hips a moment and simply worked the muscles there. "Easy," he offered.
She laughed to herself.
"I'm not a horse," she said.
"No—but you sure is runnin' away from the ride," Daryl offered. "You don't want it?"
"I do," Carol said. "I just—got nervous. You have to go ahead, OK? I just got nervous. Tensed."
Daryl tried again and she tensed again. He could feel it as her body rejected him and practically locked down to refuse him entry. He laughed to himself. Carefully, he changed his position to kiss her. To nuzzle her neck. Pepper her skin with the same soft kisses as before. Slowly, she relaxed under him. Her hips settled a little, opened more to him, and he followed her. In an instant, he grabbed her, drawing her into his arms to hold her, as he rolled his hips and quickly seated himself inside of her. With his lips against hers, he stole her surprised squeak.
He held her, a moment, and didn't move until he felt her relax around him. At first, he'd been unsure he could even move if he'd wanted to, but slowly she made room for him. She welcomed him.
He relaxed as she did.
"Fits," he offered with the first slow thrusts.
He'd almost feared her reaction to him, but she smiled. She even laughed quietly, as her fingers trailed over his skin.
"Asshole," she muttered.
"I'm sorry. You told me to go ahead."
"Better this way," Carol said. "In now."
"I can stop," he offered.
"You better not," she said, a teasing threat in her voice. "Oh," she responded, tipping her head back as he increased his speed.
Though she repeated the sound, the conversation fell off. Daryl couldn't focus on it. All he could focus on was how good she felt. How good he felt. How her face changed as the sensations changed. He heard the sounds she made, and he saw the expressions she made. He wished, for one brief second, that they could stay connected just as they were forever, and then he betrayed himself by only increasing his speed—the speed at which they raced toward breaking apart—because he couldn't help himself.
Before he knew it, it was done and he was tossing the condom in her bathroom trash can and feeling oddly sad about the whole thing—sad about being there, in the bathroom, where it suddenly felt unusually cold despite the comfortable temperature in the house.
Daryl relieved himself and washed his hands. He heard the sound of Carol bumping around—gone to the other bathroom for guests and anyone not allowed in her bathroom.
For a moment it had all been so perfect and then it was simply over. Daryl felt heavy. He felt like everything was heavy. Even the air around him was heavy.
"Daryl?" Carol called from the bedroom.
"Yeah?" Daryl responded.
"Are you OK?"
The question made his chest tighten. It wasn't one he was used to being asked.
He stepped out of the bathroom. Carol was in the bed. She'd moved over—all the way to one side. She'd pulled the cover back like an invitation. She patted the mattress to further the invitation and smiled at Daryl in the lamplight.
"I ought to ask you that," Daryl said.
Her smile renewed itself.
"Truth?" She asked.
"I prefer it," Daryl said.
"I'm a little—sore," Carol said.
"I'm sorry," Daryl said, sincerely meaning it. She smiled at him and patted the bed. "Really—I am."
"It's alright," she said. "I'm just not used to it. That's all." Daryl's heart drummed in his chest. It sounded like she was saying that she intended to get used to it. It sounded like this wasn't, simply, done. But Daryl was almost afraid of the hope that something so simple stirred up.
"Anything I can do to—make you feel better?" Daryl asked.
Carol nodded her head.
"Yeah," she said.
"Anything," Daryl offered. "I'll do it. Just—tell me."
"I—understand if you want to sleep on the couch," Carol said. "But—it might make me feel better if…you'd come to bed. At least for a little while?"
"That'll make you less sore?" Daryl asked.
"No," Carol said, laughing quietly to herself. "But—it'll make me feel better about it."
Daryl didn't have to be asked twice. He came straight to bed and crawled under the cover. He switched the lamp off without Carol asking. She came to him, requesting a kiss, and he fulfilled her request. She wriggled downward and fitted herself against him, facing him, and he hugged her, holding her to him in the position that she chose.
She sighed and the sound made Daryl's heart pick up a beat in response.
Daryl closed his eyes. It was impossible to know what dawn would bring but, in this moment, everything was perfect.
