AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I'm going to give you a warning (because I've had at least one person inform me recently that they don't care for my smut and, therefore, I suppose they may not be alone) so anyone can skip if they want; this chapter is very heavily "smuffy." I'm not apologetic about it, just letting you know so that you can make good decisions for you. LOL
If you read, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly with such a satisfied sigh that Daryl's skin prickled with goosebumps.
He had hardly touched her. He'd only promised to touch her. He'd only kissed her lips and followed her to the bed where, without interest in pomp and circumstance, she'd removed her clothing for him while he'd removed his.
Carol's satisfied sigh was prompted by nothing more than the promise that Daryl would make love to her. It took nothing more than the anticipation of the act to make her close her eyes and wear an expression of being already lost in absolute pleasure.
And that thought, alone, sent a feeling surging through Daryl of overwhelming virility. That one sound made him feel like a man on every possible level. Carol did that for him—she made him feel like the best kind of man, a complete man, in every way possible.
And now, this beautiful, smart, funny, sexy, wonderful woman who could make him feel like everything he'd ever wanted to be or dreamed he could be was carrying his child—and the mere thought of it nearly took his breath away.
Daryl kissed her with equal parts driven hunger and inspired awe.
"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," Daryl said, the moment the kiss had broken, echoing Carol's words from earlier.
She responded to him with quiet laughter. Her fingertips danced delicately over his skin. Every touch was somehow better than it ever had been before—and he'd always loved her touch, since the first night he'd felt it.
She nuzzled his neck, licked his skin, and sucked his earlobe. It felt like a jolt of electricity surged through his body and the goosebumps rose up again over the whole of his body.
"Leaving the lights on?" She asked, her voice a little huskier than usual.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"You wouldn't wanna eat a fancy three-course meal in the dark. Wanna see everything."
Daryl didn't see much at that moment besides the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. He ran his tongue over the freckles that peppered her skin and bit down gently on the skin of her shoulder as a surge of arousal ran almost painfully through his body.
"You're so hard," Carol moaned at him. Her tone of voice and the possibly inappropriate amount of approval and amazement that she put behind the statement only made Daryl's situation worsen slightly.
"You do it to me," Daryl said. "Besides—don't you give me hell about the lights. You like lookin' as much as I do—I'ma get you a mirror so you can really watch."
Carol laughed, clearly appreciating his comment. She brought his face around, with her fingers, to see it better. Her pupils were dilated and her cheeks wore a decently heavy blush.
"Fuckin' beautiful," Daryl muttered, just loud enough for her to hear him, but not loud enough so that she'd mistake it as a statement to which he expected response. Her cheeks ran a slightly darker pink. She raised her eyebrows at him.
"Coming in?" She asked with a smirk.
"Not yet," Daryl said, matter-of-factly. "I'm not done out here."
Carol hummed at him. The hand that was holding his waist at the moment snaked around. Her fingertips brushed him. She wrapped her hand around him. She stroked him, gently, once, and he closed his eyes.
"Are you going to make it much longer?" She asked. She wasn't giving him a hard time. She was being sincere, and he understood her reasoning behind the question. As hard as he was, there was a very good chance that he wasn't going to make it much longer, but it didn't matter.
"If I don't," Daryl said, smiling at her a second before he continued—she smiled in response to his expression before she ever heard his words, "I'ma be honest – I got full intentions to eat your pussy 'til I can go again."
Carol smiled and a breathy laugh escaped her.
"Who am I to argue with that?" She teased.
Daryl kissed Carol again and then started his planned trek down her body. As he kissed and nibbled a slow trail down her neck, detoured to her shoulder, and traipsed back to her collarbone, she repaid his careful attention with satisfied moans and tugged at his hair, moving her body toward him and brushing against him in her attempts to touch him more.
He did not last.
But, rather than shame him when he realized that he couldn't keep from coming, Carol pulled him to her and held him while she stroked him—milking out every last bit of his orgasm for him. He showed his thanks and appreciation with kisses in between his efforts to get his breath, and then he returned to his work with renewed energy and the determination to keep his promise to pleasure her until he was able to properly make love to her.
"Your tits are amazin'," Daryl mused when he reached them and prepared to pay them the careful attention which they deserved and to which he thought they ought to fully become accustomed. The way that Carol squirmed in response was as much a reward for his time and effort as the simple pleasure of being allowed to lick and suck them to his heart's content. "Tender?"
"It's good. So good," Carol said, clearly struggling to voice even those words for a second.
"Amazin'," Daryl reiterated.
Carol laughed quietly and broke his concentration.
"They're just breasts, Daryl. Most people have them."
"But they ain't yours," Daryl offered. "Your nipples is darker, I think. And your breasts are bigger. Heavier."
"That doesn't sound like a good thing," Carol said with some disapproval. Daryl laughed to himself at how quick she was to be judgmental—especially of herself.
"Best thing," Daryl said. He squeezed one gently, massaging it in his hand. Carol moaned her approval. "Gettin' ready for—our baby, Mama. Gotta prepare. Gonna feed it. Give it every damn thing it needs. Do you know how fuckin' incredible that is? How fuckin' incredible you are?"
She smiled at him. Her smile was radiant. Just like her breasts were slightly different for the existence of their little miracle, Daryl thought her smile was slightly different for the realization that it existed. He stole another kiss from her lips and lingered a moment for his tongue to play with hers. When he returned to her body, he kissed his way from her breasts down to her navel before he stopped and looked back at Carol.
"Where's it at?" He asked. "Do you know?"
"What?"
"The baby," Daryl said. "Where's it at. I mean—more here or…?"
"I think—more here," Carol said, touching her abdomen with her fingers. "It's…it feels so surreal to say this, but…it's growing in my uterus. So—it would be here. Somewhere in here."
"It ain't surreal," Daryl said. "Just solid fact." He leaned his head and gently kissed her fingers where they still rested. He kissed the skin around them. He licked it—he always enjoyed the sensation of her soft skin against his tongue. He liked the feeling of the downy hair that, a little further down, gave way to the courser ones. He kissed her abdomen again, letting his lips linger a long while in the spot she'd indicated while her fingers tugged at his hair and her other hand gathered up as much of the sheet as they could.
She was practically there—she'd come with only the slightest effort on his part and, if he made her wait just a bit longer to build her anticipation, she'd come hard.
She made him believe that any man who said it was impossible to get their women to come—and he'd heard his share of men almost brag about such things—had simply never tried worth a damn.
"Incredible," he said with his lips close enough to her skin that they would brush her with each movement required to form the words. "You are…incredible. You're—you're…" He was struggling, slightly, for the words. He wanted to say everything he was thinking, but that wasn't possible. He wanted to say everything perfectly but, really, that wasn't possible either. She would forgive him, though, for his inability to write poetry. She would understand the intention behind the words that he did say. She would feel and sense his meaning. He knew this because of the way she responded to him, always. He knew this because he felt like he could sense her meaning most of the time—even when she didn't say the words. "You're growin' our baby, Carol. Whether you thought it was impossible or not. It's here. Right here. So close…and you're fuckin' incredible and beautiful and…so damn sexy…"
Carol laughed. Her stomach shook with it, even though it wasn't a loud laugh. Daryl laughed in response simply because, as his lips had met her stomach while he'd kept them close enough to brush against her skin, her stomach met his lips when she laughed.
"You won't think I'm so sexy when I'm—big and fat."
Daryl leaned up on his elbow and grinned at her. She was smiling back at him. The smile was residual from her laughter, but there was clearly mischief in her eyes.
"I'll take that bet," Daryl said. "Because you ain't gonna be big an' fat. You gonna be—big and pregnant, and doin' every damn thing you gotta do…we gonna be doin' everything we gotta do…to make sure our kid is the happiest, healthiest kid to get born into the world this year. And if you don't think my ass is gonna think you're the sexiest piece of ass in the whole damned world? Well, you don't know me at all."
Daryl had been teasing. He hadn't expected the level of emotion that suddenly crossed Carol's face. Of course, his lunchtime google search of symptoms—which had led him to this beautiful, wonderful discovery that they were celebrating—had left him reading enough about pregnancy to know that mood swings and heightened emotions were at the very tip top of every list of pregnancy symptoms.
He laughed to himself.
"You gonna cry about bein' sexy?"
She was fighting it, but her bottom lip threatened to roll out a bit more in her effort to hold back her feelings. Daryl found it oddly endearing.
"I understand. You so damn sexy it brings a tear to my eye from time to time, too."
Carol laughed at him, but her laughter pushed out the dragon tears that had been threatening to fall from her eyes, and they rolled down her cheeks.
Daryl abandoned his exploration for the time being and climbed back up the bed to kiss her and take her into his arms. He held her for a moment, nuzzling against the side of her face and her ear. She squirmed her body against his, seeming to try to leech every bit of contact from him as was humanly possible.
She kissed him passionately when he offered her his lips to taste and, for a while, they stayed like that—with no words exchanged between them—trading kisses and holding one another tight as Carol moved her body in small ways to increase the friction between them.
She smiled at him, clearly satisfied, when she managed to pique his interest to such a degree that he grew hard again with her hand wrapped around him, fondling him.
There were no words. There was no exchange, really, except the mischievous look in her eye and a half-grin as she curled her leg over his hip and used her hand to guide him into her. From her position, her movements were limited, but she moved her hips enough to accept him, and she did whatever magic trick she'd mastered so well to squeeze him once he was inside her.
He leaned his head against her for a second, and she continued to do whatever it was that she'd been doing—a rhythmic, pulsing, squeeze. Daryl couldn't stand it any longer, and he thrust his hips, pushing hard into her. She let go a satisfied sound and rocked her hips back against him. The position only allowed for relatively slow movements, but neither of them felt the need to change that. Instead, they continued to hold one another while they exchanged the slow, deep thrusts with each other, almost like volleying the sensation back and forth between them.
Carol came first, and she came hard, though without any great fanfare beyond some precious sounds, the feeling of her fingers grabbing desperately at Daryl's skin, and an expression of pain on her face that Daryl knew was simply one of her depictions of absolute pleasure. The sounds, the expression, and the intensification of the pulsing squeeze beyond the normal rhythm that Daryl knew she could control was enough to make him feel almost desperate. He responded to his desperation with a newfound vigor and she gladly held onto him and accepted everything he needed to release.
Panting, he curled into her when he came and held onto her, kissing her neck in between swallows of air.
She giggled quietly and the sound was practically musical—and contagious.
"What?" Daryl breathed out.
"And that was, I think, a pretty good recreation of how we made our baby," Carol teased. Daryl snorted in response.
"Mighta changed a couple details," Daryl said. "But—the idea ain't too far off."
