AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I feel like I should give you a Merle warning. LOL
I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!
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"So—what? You think Mouse is gonna go for the direct from the source option, brother?" Merle asked. The corner of his mouth curled upward, nearly on the exact same incline as his eyebrow, as he looked at Daryl with amusement.
"Is that what the hell I said, Merle?" Daryl snapped. He couldn't have explained why Merle's expression—or insinuation—made him so irritable, but it did.
Merle just laughed it off.
"Easy brother," he said. He put the cards to the side. They'd told Andrea that they were going to play cards and have a couple of beers. It was pretty clear, though, that Merle would rather give his undivided attention to Daryl's concerns rather than to distract himself even a little with the cards.
Andrea wouldn't care what they did, really. She was out with a woman who worked at her office, and she'd only called home to make sure that Merle wouldn't mind the inconvenience of making freezer lasagna and entertaining himself for the evening. Merle always appreciated a little bachelor time, and Daryl was somewhat thankful for the opportunity to talk frankly with his brother without Andrea around to know that he was asking his brother for advice on fucking and doing a good damn job of it.
"She ain't said yes or no," Daryl said. "It ain't even time yet. The stick ain't said shit about ovulation, and that's when it's gotta happen, if it even happens. I'm just talkin' about the possibility."
"And you come to your old brother to make sure you're doin' it right?" Merle asked. "Don't give me that fuckin' look. I'm allowed to enjoy this shit at least a little bit if I'm givin' advice. Damn…what exactly do you want me to say?"
"Everything says it takes better if she comes," Daryl said. "Like—she'll get knocked up better if she comes."
"So?"
"So—I gotta make sure she fuckin' comes, Merle," Daryl said. "So—what the hell do I do to make sure of that?"
Merle laughed.
"What the hell do you normally do, brother?" Merle asked. Daryl narrowed his eyes at him. Merle narrowed his in response and then widened them. "You mean to tell me it's that fuckin' bad? I mean—hell—I knew you weren't bringin' nobody home to meet the family, but I just figured you ain't found a pussy worth committin' to. Didn't realize you ain't dug up no pussy nowhere that you didn't even like for a damn fuck or two."
"I wish to hell I didn't tell you shit; you know that?" Daryl growled. "I'd rather have asked fuckin' Andrea."
Merle laughed.
"Easy—I see your ass is gettin' embarrassed. Look like a damn strawberry. I won't yank on your dick no more—but I hope to hell Mouse does." Merle laughed to himself and winked at Daryl. "I promise—that's the last of it. I got it out my damn system now. Hell—you gotta grant me some chance to enjoy this shit, brother. Ain't every day I realize I still got the chance to prepare my lil' brother for bustin' his cherry. Listen—it ain't that hard. You got the idea of it, right? At least the not-so-fuckin'-proverbial ins and outs, right?"
"I got the idea of it all, Merle," Daryl said. "But that don't guarantee she's gonna fuckin' come."
Merle smiled and Daryl narrowed his eyes at him.
"Don't shoot me," Merle said with a laugh. "I weren't even thinkin' about givin' you hell. I was just thinkin' that if you care about gettin' her ass off bad enough to come ask me what the hell you oughta do, she's gonna come, brother."
"'Cause you such a damn good teacher," Daryl mocked with frustration.
"No," Merle said, wholly amused. "Because you're such a damn determined student that she'll be able to teach you what the hell you don't know. Come here. Scoot that damned chair around here. Bring a couple fresh beers."
Daryl got the beer. Just for good measure, he also served Merle and himself each another hunk of the lasagna. He dragged a chair around to be a little closer to his brother, who had chosen to sit at the head of the table. Merle returned to the table with a pad and a pen. He sat down and chewed his way through an overly large bite of lasagna before he put himself to work at the pad.
"You makin' me a cheat sheet or something?" Daryl asked. "I think she'll notice if I'm tryin' to read notes while I'm…you know."
"So—then, this is one thing your ass studies," Merle said. "Be a scholar of pussy, Daryl. A master of female orgasms. A fuckin' doctor of cuntology. Graduate suma cum laude in clit worshippin'. Come here, brother. Look here…"
"What the hell is that?" Daryl asked.
"That's a pussy, Daryl," Merle said. "With any damn luck, you'll see one of your own before they throw dirt on your face."
"You sure? Fuckin' Picasso coulda drawn a better pussy."
"Which one of us has spent more time at eye level with a pussy?" Merle asked. Daryl frowned at him. "That's what the hell I thought."
"I see a pussy on porn before, Merle. That's what the hell Andrea's pussy looks like? Because—maybe she oughta see someone about that shit. Looks like it's got a damn lazy eye."
"It's an abstract," Merle said. "I'm not a fuckin' artist, OK? You want help or you want to be a lil' shit?"
"Go on," Daryl said.
"This here is the pussy proper," Merle said. "That's for the fuckin' and all. You got the idea. That's where the hell you gotta drop your load if you plannin' on makin' mini-Dixons with your Mouse. I been around you enough to know you're damn near enough like your ole brother, so she won't have no complaints on the size of that shit and its touchin' the damn edges, but you damn sure better rub a couple out 'fore you go in there, or you ain't gonna have stamina for shit as soon as you get near the real thing—especially not if you got the hots for the lil' Mouse. You got the hots for the lil' Mouse, brother? Hmmm? You got more interest in gettin' a good, close look at her pussy than just knockin' her up?"
"You're an asshole, Merle," Daryl offered. His face felt hot—red hot. Merle laughed quietly.
"You know, brother, there ain't no shame in admitting that there's a little Mouse-y in the world that really revs up your fuckin' engine," Merle said. "You know that, don't'cha? Hell—it's even kinda nice to admit it sometimes. Say out loud that they just get you goin'. You take Andrea—hell, brother—she can damn near just cut them eyes in my direction and my dick's hard enough I could beat a man to fuckin' death with it. Hell—revs me up enough I prob'ly would if that's what the hell she wanted me to do when I was in that condition. Mouse do that for you?"
Daryl's heart was pounding and his mouth was dry. Just talking about Carol in a sexual way made him uncomfortable because the truth was that she did, indeed, have an effect on him that nobody had ever really had before. When he'd thought a woman was attractive in the past, that was all there was to it. He was able to see her as attractive, and he was able to dismiss her. There was no need to dwell on it. She wasn't going to be right for him, and he certainly wasn't going to be right for her.
He wasn't going to be right for Carol, but there was something in his gut that kept reminding him of how she sometimes looked at him—how he wished she always looked at him—and how it felt to be in her presence. She didn't make his stomach hurt badly. She didn't make him feel lesser than. She didn't make it hard to breathe in a bad way. She didn't leave him looking for the door.
Carol made him feel like he wanted to simply sit back, relax, and close his eyes as he floated in the easiness of her presence. And when she did get his stomach to fluttering and his breathing to feeling irregular, it was still oddly thrilling instead of borderline horrifying.
"You gonna teach me how to please her or not, Merle?" Daryl asked. "Because right now I'm begginin' to think you're full of shit when you brag about all the shit you do with Andrea."
Merle stared at him, hard, and Daryl met the challenge with his eyes. Merle hummed at him.
"All right, brother," Merle said. "This here's the pussy proper, like I was sayin'. You gonna need that for procreating and proliferating, as the case may be. Now—this direction is her asshole. That's like no-man's land. They don't want your ass back there. At least not without a fuck load of convincing, a couple signed references, and a diamond ring. Best you just stay outta that zone unless Mouse is a lil' freak that brings it up herself. If she's wavin' that flag, you go ahead an' go with her, but don't try to go on your own."
"Got it," Daryl said.
"Now on this side? This right here is the sweet spot. The clitoris. Clit," Merle said, scratching the word on the piece of paper and drawing an arrow. "Now—that shit can be hard to find, but it's here in this neighborhood. Now, if Mouse has any sense at allm and this ain't some kinda stuffed up shit goin' on between you two, you can just ask her where that shit is and let her help you find it. Saves time and you gonna know you got her sweet spot. X marks the spot here, brother. I'm tellin' your ass, this is like the magic-ass button. You worship this shit, and she's gonna be like putty in your hands."
Just the very thought of Carol like putty in his hands had an immediate effect on Daryl and he hoped the shift in his seat was imperceptible to Merle. He also hoped that his brother hadn't noticed the hitch in his breath. The smug ass expression on Merle's face and the hint of a smile that crossed his lips told Daryl, silently, that he might not have been all that lucky.
"Yessir," Merle said, drawing it out. "Get her to let you suck on this. Enjoy that sweet-ass first taste of pussy, brother. If she likes it, slip her a couple fingers in here to sorta stroke shit out. You can rub this, suck it, lick it—love it. She'll tell you what the fuck to do. You'll see. Won't take too damn much to get her goin'. You just—show this sweet little spot some attention, and the next thing you know, she'll be ridin' your face like she's trying to win the damn top payout at a rodeo."
Daryl took his brother's sketch and looked at it.
"What if I just ain't no damn good at any of it?" He mused.
Merle looked sincere instead of like a mule eating briars—his normal look whenever he was talking about pussy, which just so happened to be his favorite topic in the world.
"I ain't fuckin' with you, brother," Merle said. "You likin' Mouse? At least a little bit?"
Daryl shrugged his shoulders, unwilling to commit.
"Better chance she gets knocked up if she comes," Daryl said.
"So—you see her as nothin' more'n a…brood sow or somethin'?" Merle asked.
"Asshole," Daryl said. "You know that ain't the case."
"Not from what the hell you're sayin', I don't," Merle said.
"She's outta my league," Daryl said.
Merle laughed.
"Based on where the hell she was livin'," Merle mused, "she's barely outta the damn dumpster, Daryl. And she ain't outta nobody's league."
"Don't you talk shit about her, Merle," Daryl warned. "She's tryin'. She got her ass out of a fucked-up marriage with an asshole that beat her. It's a helluva lot more'n you can say for most people."
Merle smiled at him.
"I weren't talkin' shit," Merle said. "But—I can see you're sensitive on the matter, so I won't say nothin' else about the Mouse that you ain't interested in at all. All the hell I'ma say is…when I first started goin' out with Andrea, she told me the sexiest damn thing in the world was communication."
"Communication?" Daryl asked.
"You know—the talkin' and listenin' shit," Merle said.
"I mean I know what the hell communication is, asshole," Daryl said.
"Then don't pretend you don't," Merle said. "Any damn way, what I was gonna say is that she said it's the sexiest thing to her. But it weren't just like sittin' across the table talking that she wanted. I mean, she wanted that, too, but it was more. It was talkin' about what the hell we were doin' in the bedroom."
"Dirty talk and shit," Daryl said.
"Not even that. Not like—some of that porn shit like 'come here, baby, an' see this big ass sausage I'm deliverin' with your damn pizza' bullshit. Not like that. Just—do you like that shit? Does that feel good? You think you could do this thing for me or…don't fuckin' do that because that right there makes my dick go soft. Just—communication."
"Can you get to the point of this story, Merle, without giving me images that are gonna keep my ass up for years? Because I have to admit that right now, I'm gettin' way too much in my head that I'm not comfortable havin' there, if you catch my drift."
Merle snorted.
"My point is—that sweet lil' Mouse might have some input of her own, if you'll man up and ask about it, brother. Tell her what'cha want. If your only damn interest is in blowin' her mind and makin' her lil' pussy feel the best that shit's ever felt? You tell her that. Let her tell you what the hell she needs to make that shit a reality. Who the hell knows, Daryl, maybe she thinks communication is the sexiest thing in the world?"
Daryl hummed and nodded. He folded Merle's drawing and stuffed it in his shirt pocket. He lit a cigarette and offered the pack to his brother.
"Thanks," Daryl managed to get out.
"Any time, brother," Merle said. "And just remember the best part of it all…"
"Which is?" Daryl pressed.
Merle laughed to himself. His usual shit-eating countenance returned.
"Just as important as her coming is to makin' a baby, Daryl, so the hell is yours," Merle said. "And you don't have to say shit about it, but I got a gut feeling that you won't be feeling so professional about it all once that lil' Mouse of yours helps you bust your first nut, brother."
"Shit—you're a son of a bitch, you know that, Merle?"
Merle just laughed. And took a drag on his cigarette.
"Yeah—well—we got the same Ma, I know that much is true," he mused.
