AN: Several people seemed to want a little follow-up here, so here's another chapter.

I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

111

"Can I—kiss you?" Daryl asked.

Carol bit her lip. She understood, all too completely now, what it was about Daryl she hadn't quite been able to put her finger on earlier. He had not only kept his distance from any meaningful, long-term relationship, but he'd kept his distance from women entirely.

He'd kept his distance out of fear.

He was afraid of the rejection. He was afraid of the work that went into relationships and the minimal pay-out for that work. He was afraid of the end of those relationships. All those things, he'd told her in different conversations. Now, she understood the depth of his fear.

"I think you should," Carol said, a shiver running through her body. She hadn't meant to want his kiss so much, but she did.

He looked uncomfortable, but he nodded and leaned toward her. To save him at least a little of the anxiety that he must be feeling, she met him and touched their lips together. She didn't expect him to know all the secrets of amazing kissing—she knew none of them herself. Still, the soft kiss buzzed with desire and want, and that made it probably the best kiss that Carol had ever had. She leaned into him, silently communicating her desire to keep it going for a while longer if he'd allow such a thing.

He did allow it, and when they separated, they were both quick to draw breath. Carol laughed quietly, realizing they were both inexperienced enough with enjoyable kisses to remember that breathing was necessary. Daryl's eyes were dark with pupils that were larger than normal, and there was a hint of desperation to his expression.

He wanted so much, and she could feel his want.

He wanted the baby that they were trying to make. He wanted fatherhood and family. He wanted a future.

In the immediate moment, he wanted Carol to be happy. He wanted to please her and to make her feel good. She couldn't really recall her ex-husband having ever wanted that. He'd always seen sex as something that it was her responsibility to enjoy just as he gave it to her—if she didn't, it was some shortcoming of her own and certainly not of his. Daryl saw it as his responsibility to please her.

The crackling feeling of his want in the air, and the knowledge that he desired to please her, was enough, really, to already have Carol throbbing with the same anticipation she felt when she desired pleasure and knew she was about to settle in to give herself exactly what she wanted. If she'd closed her eyes, at that moment, and focused hard enough, she knew that a few perfect touches would really be all it would take to get her to orgasm.

She had learned—without Ed and the negative feelings he brought to sex, and with her own exploration of her body—that she was remarkably easy to please. She had laughingly considered herself a hairpin trigger, of sorts, when she was in charge and left to control her thoughts and her feelings.

She had wants, too.

She wanted the baby that they planned to make and, almost more than that, she wanted Daryl to feel successful—though she would have felt hard-pressed to express that desire, in words, to anyone.

"I think—it's time to take me to bed," Carol offered. "OK? Make—make our baby?"

Daryl tensed visibly, but nodded. Carol gave him a reassuring smile and tugged him toward her bedroom—not that he needed help finding the way, since he'd been the one to make it a home for her. In the bedroom, she immediately went for the baby-making kit she'd kept tucked in a corner.

"You changed your mind?" Daryl asked. His voice came out slightly harsh, almost cracking like he hadn't used it in a bit, and there was a hint of hurt to his tone.

Carol retrieved the bottle from the box.

"Not unless you have," she said, turning to face him and show him the bottle. "Lubricant. Sperm-friendly. To—you know—ease things along." He looked worried. Maybe he already feared that he'd failed in some way. Carol suddenly felt somewhat empowered by the feeling that he needed her to coach and coax him. She winked at him. "It just makes things feel better," she assured him. "I thought—you might like that."

Relief showed on Daryl's features. This wasn't something that he'd done wrong or already failed at. He nodded enthusiastically.

Carol knew very little about men like Daryl, but she did know common knowledge about men. It wouldn't take much to imagine that Daryl might be a bit of a hairpin trigger, himself, at the moment. Carol's concern, right now, was simply getting him some relief. She figured there would be time to make good on his promises—and his desires—since he seemed more than willing to do whatever she might want him to do.

"You know," Carol said, "I'm kind of feeling anxious…"

"Nervous?" Daryl asked, furrowing his brow and stepping toward her. Her pulse picked up. His anxiety had been making him keep his distance, so there was something about the fact that he felt so motivated to soothe her anxiety that he was willing to face his own.

"I think—ready," Carol said. "I was thinking—would you mind too much if we just…got into things quickly? And then we can eat Chinese food, and rest, and relax together, and then…you know…go again, if you want?"

"I'm a little dirty," Daryl said. "I shoulda showered. I don't know what the hell I was thinkin'."

Carol laughed to herself.

"Maybe we'll shower together? After the Chinese?"

His face ran red.

"You still want to…?"

"I think so," Carol said. To try to help him understand this wasn't a trick, and she wasn't going to change her mind, Carol tossed the bottle at the bed and pulled her t-shirt over her head like ripping off a band-aid. She had only ever undressed in front of doctors and Ed, as far as men went, and she took her bra off as quickly as she could, too, and tossed it on the floor with her shirt. Daryl's eyes went wide. "Your turn before I lose my nerve," Carol said.

"There's somethin' you gotta know…" Daryl said.

"Something else?" Carol asked. Immediately, she wished she hadn't said it. "Go on. I want to know. I'm sorry—that came out not at all like I meant it."

It took Daryl a second, but he accepted that she hadn't meant what she'd said in quite the tone that she'd used.

"I told you about my old man," he said. Carol nodded. "The scars—they don't look good. But—I can leave my shirt on."

"I thought we were going to shower together," Carol said.

"We don't gotta do that."

"But I'd like to…" Carol said. "And—if you're going to be my baby's father…I don't want them to be ashamed of their daddy's scars." Her stomach tightened. She knew, now, that Daryl could already see a few of her scars, and there were more that were hidden beneath her sweatpants from run-ins with Ed. "Or their mommy's," she added. "If I'm supposed to think yours are so horrible—is that what you think of mine?"

"No," Daryl said quickly. "No—shit—no. I just meant…you ain't seen mine."

"Because you haven't let me," Carol said with a shrug. "But I'm standing her without a shirt, and that's making me nervous…"

"Please don't get nervous," Daryl said suddenly and almost desperately. "You gotta relax." He closed the distance between them. Affectionately, his hands massaged her arms. He kissed her again—the same kind of kiss as they'd enjoyed in the kitchen. Carol did relax, and the throbbing from before returned.

"I'm serious, Daryl," she said as soon as the kiss had begun to break. "I want to do this now. And I don't want you to wear the shirt. Please."

He took the shirt off. He didn't model his scars for her, and she wouldn't have ever asked him to. She didn't even move to look at them. Instead, she unceremoniously stripped out of her sweatpants and underwear and, pushing back the blanket on the bed and rearranging the pillows, she made herself comfortable. It would be easier, she decided immediately, to give him the position over her. It would be easier to give him the power to do whatever he needed to do—especially since this time would be based entirely on instinct and not some store of prior knowledge and experience.

He followed after her without coaxing, shedding his own clothes and toeing off his shoes at the same time, so that he ended up in a slightly clumsy struggle with his pants before he was free and kissing her on the bed.

She guided his hands to her breasts and gave him silent permission to touch her as she kissed him again. He squeezed too hard—too enthusiastically—but she accepted it. She dropped her own hand between her legs, and his hands hungrily groped her body as one came to cover hers.

"Show me," Daryl said.

"Show you?" She asked.

"What feels good?" He asked. "Where?"

She leaned forward to kiss him, and she guided his fingers to her clit, pressing his fingertips where she wanted him to put pressure. He took her suggestion, and she bit his lip out of response to the feeling of someone else touching her the way that she liked to be touched. He moaned and bit her back the moment she released him. She smiled.

"You are not going to last long," she said.

"You're tellin' me?" He shot back. She took in his face. He was red-faced, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. She opened her legs a little more dramatically for him to more easily slip between them. She squirted some of the lube into her own hand and stroked him, smearing it. He bit his own lip and hissed at her like he'd been burned. "Son of a bitch…" he muttered.

"Come on," she urged. "This time'll be fast and…and wonderful…and then we'll have Chinese, and a shower, and…we can do whatever you want."

"Will you like it?" He asked, allowing her to help guide him into her. Carol adjusted her hips as he settled into her to find a comfortable position.

"I already do," Carol assured him. "You can't do this wrong, Daryl. Let's make a baby, OK?"

Carol closed her eyes. He might have wanted to fight his desires to give her time to rethink things—if she'd asked him to, she was certain that he'd leave her body right now without argument—but it was clear that he couldn't stay in this position and not respond as nature intended. Whether or not he knew what he was doing, according to him, he knew enough to drive into her with the same hunger he'd shown elsewhere.

Carol let her fingertips dig into his back. She found the scars, by touch, that he'd been ashamed of before. When she first brushed them, he'd stopped moving a moment and tensed. She'd spurred him on by rocking her hips and making a sound of approval for his thrusts.

She slipped a hand between them, and he didn't object. Ed didn't like her touching herself. He found it somehow insulting that she might want more than what he was offering her. Daryl didn't seem to mind in the least.

He might give her anything she wanted, if she only communicated her want to him.

For the moment, she found that she wanted exactly what she had. Daryl was clumsy. There was no doubt about that, and he was a bit rough. Still, it was worth it, and she enjoyed it. His intention, she realized, meant every bit as much as his follow-through.

Focusing on how much he wanted her to feel good—how much he wanted to make her happy, and on how she felt in that moment, including allowing her mind to stray to thoughts of the baby that, perhaps, they'd create — managed to get Carol to a point where she came and, as soon as the wave of pleasure passed her, she felt herself relax almost entirely.

Daryl had lasted much longer than she'd expected, but he hadn't been able to withstand the building of her orgasm entirely. He'd come hard just before she had. He panted against her neck and weighed down on her as he recovered for a moment.

She brought her hands up to move his face so that she could look at him. She brushed his hair with her fingertips. She kissed him, and he did his best to kiss her back around ragged breaths.

She wondered if it was OK for her heart to feel like it felt in that moment. She wondered if it was only a hormonal reaction to knowing they were trying to make a baby together. She wondered if the feeling would, somehow, help conception. She wondered if it would fade.

This was supposed to be business, but it felt like she wasn't certain that her heart had gotten the memo.

Daryl held Carol's eyes for a very long moment. He held her eyes while his breathing returned to normal. He held her eyes long beyond the amount of time that she was sure she would have normally found unnerving. This time, though, instead of feeling uncomfortable, she simply felt like she wanted to sink down into his eyes and wrap up in what she thought she saw there.

It was the kind of odd thought that made a quiet laugh of amusement at herself ripple through her.

"What?" Daryl asked, furrowing her brow.

Carol was sorry she'd broken the moment.

"Nothing," she said. She immediately searched for something to say—feeling like she needed to give him a plausible explanation before he worried needlessly. "I was just thinking—that was wonderful. And…now I'm hungry."

He looked pleased. He smiled at her as he backed off of her.

"Can I use that pillow?" He asked, gesturing to one of the pillows.

"You bought it," she said. "You own everything in this trailer."

"I told you…" he said, warning in his tone.

"You can use anything you want," Carol amended. He grabbed it, only to hand it to her.

"Gotta put it under your hips," he said. "Lift 'em up, right? And I'll make us some plates."

Carol smiled.

"I like the idea of a picnic in bed with you," she said, raising her eyebrows at him as she followed the instructions Andrea had sent them both and elevated her hips with the pillow to try to keep his deposit in place for a while by keeping gravity from working against them.

His face reddened slightly and he quickly put his pants back on.

"Don't go anywhere," he said.

"I'm not," Carol said. "I wouldn't want any of our baby-making efforts to go to waste."

Even though, she thought to herself, that the worst thing about letting them go to waste would be the need to do things again—and she couldn't find any downside to that.