AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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The first sign of nervousness was a visible tension in her neck and shoulders when Daryl asked her if the mask was tied to her liking. He did what his instincts told him to do—because he felt like he was being driven by a part of himself that was functioning almost on autopilot. He worked the muscles with his fingertips and kissed the back of her neck and her shoulders. The shiver that ran through her seemed to run the final bit of tension away for a moment.

He nuzzled the nape of her neck as she'd nuzzled his face earlier. He inhaled her scent there. His chest ached.

And he knew that the words he was thinking were there too soon. They were big words to have such a small count of letters, and they would frighten her. He swallowed them back and kept them from escaping his mouth, but he gave them free reign of his mind.

"You feel OK?" He asked, deciding that it could, in its own way, express a little of what he was feeling. He maintained his spot behind her, hands on her bare shoulders.

She'd shucked her shirt unceremoniously. Quickly. She'd undone her bra and flicked it to the side. He'd followed suit, and she'd shimmied out of her pants. Even without saying it, they both understood that they may have a lot of things to navigate, and clothing wasn't important. There was no need playing coy about what they expected to happen.

She didn't answer him, but she had relaxed against him, and Daryl didn't move from where he was allowing his body to apply the slightest bit of pressure to her back. There was time. He didn't have to move immediately. He slipped an arm under hers, brought it around, and gently cupped her breast. He squeezed it, gently, and she moaned. He heard satisfaction in it and a touch of the tone she'd used earlier—almost reverent—when she'd been talking about her hopes for the pleasure that a blindfold might help her find. He felt her nipple stiffen against his finger as he purposefully brushed a finger against it.

He smiled to himself, his lips against her shoulder, when she rocked her body forward—an instinctual physical reaction to pleasure that must feel, to her, something like the lightening strikes of pleasure that went directly from some point in Daryl's body to his sometimes over-aware dick.

"Tell me you OK, or you ain't," Daryl said. "I gotta hear it before…anything else."

"I'm OK," Carol breathed out.

"Blindfold too tight?"

"It's perfect."

"Can you see?"

"No," Carol said. "Just—light around the edges, but…it's actually really good at its job." She laughed to herself. "I'm not sure—if that's a good thing."

"Why not?" Daryl didn't move beyond the few minor movements he allowed the hand that was playing with her breast. He gave her time to work up to her response. He felt her muscles tense as her body reacted to the insecurities of her mind.

"I…I…" she stammered, with a few more false starts to her words. Daryl closed his eyes and his chest tightened. He felt like he could practically absorb her thoughts through her skin now that they were so close to one another.

"I'm not Ed," he said, keeping his voice low and calm, and practically whispering those words into her ear. "I'm not. I'm not Ed and—I won't hurt you. You can trust me. I ain't him."

He would repeat the mantra all day if she needed it. She relaxed, though, a little, and he moved to sit on the bed facing her. Her face drew up like she might cry, and he brushed his thumb across her lips to let her know he was there before he kissed her, taking away the threat of her cries with his lips.

"We don't have to," he said. "I'll take it off."

"No," she said. She took a few deep breaths that were clearly meant to calm her. Daryl worked her hands in his. "Please—I want to do this…I'm sorry…"

"Shhh," Daryl hissed at her softly. "I don't want you apologizin' to me, OK? I don't like it. Not when you're apologizin' for somethin' you ain't done wrong."

He understood what she was going through in a way. He had strange fears, insecurities, and moments where his long-buried past threatened to suffocate him over things that went bump in the night. His psychiatrist had assured him that was normal and it didn't make him crazy. Carol would have the same things. The biggest difference, though, was that he was stepping into the place of her former abuser. For Daryl, there would be no other "old man." The only one there had ever been was dead. Gone. In the ground. Maggot food and, realistically, probably not even that now. Everything he was and had been was reduced, more than likely, to little more than bones.

But, for Carol, her demons were stirred up and stoked—riled up as another man stepped into the role that had been vacated by her own personal devil.

Daryl was innocent of the crimes committed against her, but her mind and her body would only learn and fully accept that slowly, and Daryl could be patient.

A hint of a smile tugged the corner of her mouth up. She squeezed his hand in hers and nodded her head.

"OK," she breathed out.

"Feelin' better?" He asked, seeing a change to her face. She licked her lips and nodded again. He believed her.

"What does your dice say?"

"Haven't rolled 'em yet," Daryl said.

"Do it," she said, her smile growing into the one he was accustomed to seeing her wear in his presence. A few knots in his stomach untangled as he saw that she was clearly coming out of the dark woods her mind had led her into earlier.

He rested her hand on his leg to keep their connection, and she lazily trailed her fingers over his thigh—catching the attention of his dick far more than was probably suitable for such an innocent touch—while he opened the package and flicked the dice onto the bed. He considered the results and rolled them again.

This time, with her blindfolded for the very first time and a little nervous, and him feeling a little shaky and afraid that he couldn't even begin to execute some of the moves on the dice—especially without her assistance in helping him figure them out—he wanted something simple. It was cheating, but he continued to roll them until he was satisfied that he'd found a position that he could pull off and a location that would still provide them with some comfort in the earliest moments of experimentation.

Her dedication to creating a treasure trunk of toys was the best promise that she could give him that there would be a next time—they would have time to try to the things that were more complicated.

"What's going on?" Carol asked. "Everything OK?"

"Fine," he assured her. "I got it. Just lemme get—supplies, you know?"

"Supplies?" She asked, doing her best to track him when he stood up. "What's…?"

Daryl knew right where she kept things now, and he opened the bedside drawer. He skirted her other toys. He avoided, to the best of his ability, even looking at anything else in her drawer to give her some privacy.

"Just—a condom and…would you rather I use this lube or that big bottle first? You got some in here. Just—to make sure things feel good if you want it."

"I guess it doesn't matter…"

Daryl decided the smaller bottle was more portable and could be refilled from the large bottle he'd purchased. He grabbed it, read the back of the condom box, and selected one of the foil packages—all of which boasted to have different features to enhance her pleasure.

He wasn't going to bother with the lube that promised some kind of strange and exhilarating pleasure for the both of them. He decided, without asking Carol, that he felt boring enough and she was nervous enough, that it was best to introduce new sensations into their now-shared environment slowly.

There was time, after all, for other things.

The only brief wish that Daryl had was that he had pockets, but nudity didn't really allow for that. Carol accepted his "lemme put this down" request, and waited for him to return. He caught her hands and pulled her to her feet.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"Don't matter," Daryl said. "It's a surprise for you, remember?"

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing?"

"No," Daryl said. "I don't think so." She was smiling, so he wasn't too worried about her responding negatively.

"I don't want to fall, Daryl," she confessed sincerely.

To make her feel better, Daryl moved beside her and wrapped an arm tightly around her.

"I ain't gonna let you fall," Daryl said. "I promise. Even if you picked both your feet up, you wouldn't fall. OK? I got you. I could carry you in there."

"OK," she said, accepting that he wasn't going to let her accidentally hurt herself anymore than he was going to hurt her. She wrapped her arm around him, too. He could feel tension in her body, but he imagined a blind walk would make anyone a little tense. They didn't have too far to go. He'd chosen the living room because he knew he could make it comfortable for this first event.

"Stay here," Daryl said, letting go of Carol. She stood stiffly, but she stayed. Daryl took the blanket from the back of the couch and spread it out on the floor. He moved what they would need and came back for Carol. "Come on," he urged. "I got you."

Standing near the blanket, he finally allowed himself to start touching her. He caught her face. He brushed her lips with his before he finally allowed her the real kiss that she kept seeking, leaning her face toward him and then laughing to herself at his teasing when he moved just beyond her reach. He was repaid for his playfulness by the fullness of the kiss that she shared with him when she was finally granted permission to kiss him.

Her hands found his body. Her fingertips trailed around his skin, leaving trails of warmth wherever they went like her fingertips could emit tiny shocks of electricity. Her fingers worked over the scars on his back like she was reading braille. He knew what she was doing—what she was feeling. He wondered what they felt like to her now that she was temporarily without one of her senses.

He had never allowed anyone to touch them like Carol was touching them now—like he allowed her touch them when they were embracing one another. He knew she understood them. Her own body bore scars—marks of her ex-husband's cruelty. Her scars may be different, and his preferred methods of abusing her body might have varied from the ones that Daryl's old man had enjoyed, but the suffering had been real, just the same, and it had left its mark.

He didn't feel pity in her touch, and he hadn't ever seen it in her eyes, so he closed his eyes and enjoyed the tender caresses instead of shrinking away from them.

"Spread your legs," Daryl said.

She blew her breath out with a soft sound of amusement, but she did as he asked.

"Is this—part of the position?" She asked.

Daryl helped himself to a small glop of the lubricant and spread it over some of his fingers. It was messy—and this whole endeavor was bound to be messy—but he decided it was all going to be worth it. They could clean it all up together at the end of everything.

With his non-messy fingers, he worked her clit. The sound that escaped her and the expression on her face—the shape of her mouth—was worth all of it.

"No," he said, continuing his work. "I just wanna feel you." A sound of approval got caught in her throat, but he understood it. He swallowed. He studied her. Watching her face contort with pleasure that looked so much like pain—pain that she clearly wanted—nearly drove him mad, but he didn't want to look away. "I want you to feel me feel you. Wanna see it." He slipped a finger into her and watched her register his intrusion into her body. He tested different movements and how they either registered or didn't with her. He slipped another inside her and felt her fingertips dig into his shoulder as she half-supported herself by holding onto him.

He only meant to tease her, but he got so wrapped up in watching her that he stayed like they were, her holding onto his shoulders, and he played with varying touches until those touches coaxed an orgasm from her body. He watched her face change. He heard the sounds she made—paid attention to them. He accepted her thanks and her panted praise.

And then, with her legs obviously shaky, he coaxed her to follow him down, supporting her as she lowered herself down so that she wouldn't fall, to the blanket on the floor. He rolled the condom on, knowing that it would probably provide protection and little else at this point. This would be too fast for her pleasure, he feared.

"Come here," he directed. "Lay down."

"On my back?" Carol asked.

"Yeah," Daryl said.

"Can I know—what's the position?"

"Can I be honest?"

"I've never known you to be anything else," Carol admitted.

"Was supposed to be—a whole different position," Daryl admitted. "I picked the—one where you was gonna be sittin' on my lap. Facin' away from me."

"OK…" Carol said, drawing out the word. She was waiting for him to continue.

"I just want you," Daryl admitted. "Shit—I just want this…and I wanna see you. Just like this…and I'm about ready to lose it right the fuck now so this ain't gonna be no damn good for you, and I'm sorry for that."

She smiled at him and she spread her legs—a clear gesture of welcome.

"Kiss me?"

He obliged. He moved his body over her. Being this close to her was almost torture at the moment. He felt his throat tightening. He was desperate for her, but still nervous to assume that she meant he could take advantage of her somewhat open position. She smiled at him when the kiss broke. Her fingertips danced over the skin of his face.

"Well?" She asked. "Are you—coming in?"

He needed no more than the teased invitation. He was inside her, as far as he could be, as quickly as he could be. The lubrication his fingers had left behind, mixed with her body's own additions, made his entrance faster and harder than he'd intended. The sound that escaped her was choked and her mouth's shape told him her eyes would be big if he could see them behind the blindfold.

"I'm sorry," he breathed against her neck, holding himself back from thrusting for a second, sure he'd probably be too fast and too rough if he just let himself go. "I won't get you nowhere…"

"You've already got me every—where. Every—way." Carol breathed out her words. They struck Daryl. Stuck in his mind a second. Tightened his stomach. He was too overcome, though, to think on them too much. His brain could think of nothing more than relief. "Daryl—let go. I feel everything right now. I want to feel what you want."

The permission to let go was the final thing that Daryl needed. He did let go. He drove into her, looking for relief and release. He didn't restrain himself or his movements. He did what she asked. He let her feel what he wanted. What he was seeking. He was simultaneously aware that it was fast and that it felt like all of time slowed down while she gripped at his sides and accepted whatever he wanted to give to her. It was hard, and he was sure he should apologize to her.

And despite the many and varied sounds that escaped her—almost animalistic at times, which only spurred him on more—he was certain that he hadn't brought her to orgasm again by the time he'd tied a knot in the condom and, accepting that the blanket was a mess already, tossed it to the side.

She was panting, lying on the floor, and he snuggled next to her and turned her face to kiss her. She returned the kiss, and he trailed a hand down between her legs and worked her. She was, at the moment, clearly beyond speech. She was expressions and sounds, but no words, and Daryl wasn't sure that he had words, either. But he felt her body jerk as she writhed next to him and he kept going, curious in his relaxed state of afterglow—where he didn't have to worry at all about his own arousal for some time—to see how long her body could continue to give the violent jerks in response to his touch.

Finally, she found words enough to ask him to stop, and he stopped immediately. He kissed the side of her face, letting her gulp air with her mouth, and then he kissed her lips gently. He slipped his hand behind her head. She was practically a rag doll lolling in his arms. He removed the blindfold and tossed it to the side. Her eyes and lashes were wet.

"I missed you," she said softly, and with a smile.

It was the strangest thing to say, perhaps, but it felt incredible as it registered within Daryl's body.

"Missed you too," he offered. "Missed—seein' your eyes. Did I hurt you? Be honest?" He added the last words after he saw a moment of hesitation on her features.

"Just a little," Carol said. "But—in the best way possible."

"I got too rough," he admitted. "Way too rough."

"No," Carol said. "You were perfect. Maybe not—for every time, but…for sometimes?"

"It was so damn good. Felt like—I couldn't help it. I'm sorry."

"No," Carol said. "You're right. It was—so damn good."

Daryl couldn't help but smile at her. She looked around, taking in where they were and the blanket they were lying on. Then she relaxed again.

"My back is going to kill me if we stay down here too long," she admitted.

"Mine too," Daryl agreed. "But—I'll get you up."

She laughed to herself.

"I know you will," she said.

"You enjoyed your mask? Was it—what you wanted it to be?"

Carol licked her lips and clearly considered the question sincerely—glancing off to the side and just over Daryl's shoulder. Her answer would be an honest one.

"This was—a lot more than I even expected," Carol said. She looked around, again, and shifted against the blanket. She moved her legs and she wrinkled her nose at him. "I'm—a little slimy. Shower with me and then I'll make lunch?"

Daryl nodded. He worked his way up to his knees, and Carol followed suit. He stood up and helped her up. She glanced back at the mess they left behind.

"We'll clean this up after we shower," she said. She threaded her fingers through Daryl's and pulled him after her and toward her bathroom.

"I was thinkin'," Daryl offered, following along behind her and enjoying the simple easiness that seemed to have wrapped around them in that moment, "if you wanted…and only if you wanted…I could build us a sort of treasure chest. Somethin' simple that would look nice in your room and wouldn't be too obvious. Pick up the stuff and…I could have it done by tomorrow evening, even. You know for—holdin' all our stuff until we want it again."

Carol looked at him over her shoulder and smiled.

"I think that would be a wonderful idea," Carol assured him. "But I'd hate to take up your whole weekend."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"There ain't no better way I'd rather spend the time."