Beth thinks she’s fuckin’ funny.
Girl’s a smartass half the time, and the other half she's spendin’ tryna think up new ways to get on his last nerve, Daryl’s sure of it. She usually denies it when he brings it up (which is just about every time she says or does anything remotely annoying, so much so that Daryl’s actually starting to suspect he gets off on it, but like hell is he about to tell Beth that, she’d never let him live that shit down) — says ‘course she’s not trying to piss him off, only you wouldn’t know it by the way she acts up.
And he knows for a fact that she acts up on purpose, so he’ll give her something she wants the next time they’re alone together. He doesn’t mind it so much by then, ‘cause he likes smacking her ass and pounding her into his mattress ‘til the headboard chips the wall hard enough that he’s gotta spackle the damn thing afterwards. He likes pinning her pretty wrists above her head and growling dirty shit at her while he’s sucking on her tits. Likes looking her over when he’s through with her, seeing all them hickeys he leaves behind on her neck, her chest, the insides of her thighs, ‘cause he likes knowing that she’s all his, and it’s easy to tell when she’s covered in beard burn and the ugly shapes his greedy mouth makes on her skin.
He likes it ‘cause she likes it, and he loves her. Even when she is bein’ a pain in his ass — maybe especially then.
What he doesn’t like, though, is when she makes it her goddamn mission to make him hard for her in front of a buncha other people.
And, alright, maybe public humiliation’s not what she’s after — Beth ain’t the type — but she’s been creepin’ her bare foot up his calf under the dinner table a little too much for comfort.
It’d be fine, if it was just them at the table. Or, more like, if they were eating takeout on his couch like they do most weekends. But this is a proper sit-down family meal, which means they’re the least alone they ever get.
Beth’s friend Amy’d probably get a kick out of it — Beth’s always sayin’ how she's just like that — and that Jimmy kid still won’t even look at him straight-on, but they’re the minority here. Between Hershel, Maggie, Glenn, Rick, Michonne, hell, even Carl’d shoot him square between the eyes if any of ‘em knew what was goin’ on underneath this table right now, and it ain’t even Daryl’s fault.
Still thinks it’d be fair if one of ‘em wanted to cap his ass for foolin’ around with Beth, but so far everyone’s seemed alright with it. Just that they probably wouldn’t be, if they had any idea he’s getting hard just ‘cause Beth’s tryna play fuckin’ footsie with him.
There’s a steady hum of conversation around the table, and it’s a good thing Daryl’s not talkative by nature, because he sure as hell ain’t keeping up with anyone else when both his upstairs and downstairs brains’re honed in on what Beth’s doing to him.
He can feel the curl of her toes in his jeans, can see ‘em in his mind’s eye every time he blinks. They’re painted a pretty soft shade of pink that shimmered rainbows when she answered the door for him earlier, the hall lights catching in the polish as she wriggled her toes against the hardwood floor.
Not like he’s got some pervy preoccupation with her feet or nothin’, only he’s got a preoccupation with damn near everything about her. Just so happens right now she’s using her feet to get to him.
And it’s goddamn working.
Daryl curls his free hand into a fist on top of his knee, while the other’s shoving forkfuls of turkey and mashed potato into his mouth to hopefully muffle any groans or fuckin’ whimpers that escape when Beth glides the arch of her foot up his leg. Can’t be comfortable like that, the way she’s gotta bend her leg to reach him since they’re seated side-by-side, but his girl’s got some flex to those muscles of hers. She can bend pretty much any way she damn pleases, and —
Fuck. Fuck, that’s the last thing he needs to be thinkin’ when her daddy’s sat across from them.
And, fuck, again, ‘cause he sure as hell don’t need that word coming anywhere goddamn near him right now, either, no matter how innocent. Lots of things seemed plenty innocent before Beth showed up and knocked him sideways — beaches, showers, sleeping on shitty mattresses, talking on the goddamn phone, whatever, just a lot of mundane everyday shit, only then Beth went and happened to him and now Daryl can’t so much as hold her fucking hand without wanting to lay her out on her ass and get on top of her.
That’s usually about the time she starts callin’ him Daddy, too, so excuse the fuck outta him if he can’t keep his train of thought on track whenever he’s with this girl.
Beth’s toes bump his boot, flex once in his shoelaces before nudging up the leg of his jeans to chafe against his bare skin. Goosebumps rise across every inch she touches, hair standing on end with as much attention as his half-hard cock. His whole body’s attuned to what she’s doing to him, and begging for death unless he gets to fuck her in the next ten seconds, because what’s the point of living otherwise?
Daryl never thought he’d have occasion to say this in his whole miserable life, but he thinks he’s being overly optimistic there. Ain’t no way he’s getting his aching dick inside of Beth tonight, let alone within ten seconds, ‘cause they’re surrounded by people and this is why he fuckin’ hates people.
Judith chooses that precise moment to blow an enthusiastic raspberry at no one in particular, and Daryl’s stomach twists up in a twinge of guilt for his thoughts. Then Beth slips a cookie into the baby’s chubby, grasping hand, and his gut relaxes back to normal.
Girl’s just got that kinda effect on him. He’s long since past trying to figure it out; just accepts it for what it is.
He moves his clenched fist from his knee over to hers, uncurls his fingers so he can hold onto her. He means it as a warning, sort of, so he can signal her to knock it the hell off if he can’t take her teasing no more, ‘cause she’s still dragging her toes all tortuous along his skin and he doesn't expect her to stop anytime soon unless he tells her to.
But, yeah, so he just wants to touch her, too. Fucking sue him.
He usually tries to avoid it — touching her too much — in front of her dad and Maggie. Hershel don’t seem to care if they hold hands, or when Daryl sorta absentmindedly presses a kiss into her hair, but Maggie’s another story. She’s overprotective, and Daryl supposes she’s got every right to be — or, at least, he can’t blame her, ‘cause he feels the same way about Beth most of the time. But he trusts her, too, to tell him if he’s doing something she don’t like. He knows that she knows what she wants, and if what she wants is him, well, she’s fucking got him. And Maggie’s just gonna have to get goddamn used to it.
Still, though, Daryl doesn’t like the way she looks at him when his hand rides too low on the small of her baby sister’s back, so he tries to shut that shit down ‘til he can get Beth alone.
Her leg leans heavily into his touch, and his tensed muscles relax some, ears perked up when the clear cadence of her voice cuts into the foggy flood of his thoughts —
“Daddy, could you pass me the salt?”
It’s a holy fucking miracle that Daryl’s fingers only twitch when she says that. Almost takes his hand off her knee to reach across the table for the salt shaker, but then his sharp eyes catch Hershel already doing as she asked. Catches her goddamn little smirk, too, like she damn well knew what she was doing when she said that.
Daryl tightens his grip on her knee, then thinks better of it — she fuckin’ asked for it — and slides his hand up her thigh instead. Smooths his palm down her inseam and squeezes her cunt under cover of the tablecloth, rubs his thumb harsh against where he’s pretty sure her clit is.
Must’ve been right, too, ‘cause Beth’s thighs tighten up around his hand and she coughs like she’s choking. Takes a long draw of water and shakes her head that she’s okay, just got a tickle in her throat, when Maggie asks.
Daryl drags his hand back down to her knee, hides his own smirk around another mouthful of candied yams or whatever shit Glenn talked him into trying, and he did just to shut the guy up about his old family recipe. Doesn’t matter; Daryl’s pretty sure whatever he puts in his mouth the rest of the night’s just gonna taste like Beth’s pussy, anyway.
She’d been hot as hell beneath the press of his hand, like rubbing her foot up on him’s enough to get her riled up and ready to take his dick. Thinks she must be getting wet, too, and saliva pools underneath his tongue soon as he thinks about it, and now all he can think about is getting his tongue up her cunt so he can swallow down that heat, warm him up from the inside-out like sweet honey whiskey, only better ‘cause he’d be getting his girl off, lapping up her come and making her shake.
Christ, he needs to get a handle on this shit, only Beth’s massaging her toes up and down his tensed calf muscle again and he can’t fucking think straight.
Screw the ten seconds, that shit’s not happening, but he’s still gonna fuck her tonight. Goddamn needs to.
And, yeah, it takes a fair few minutes — close to an hour, and Beth’s fucking with him the whole time, bumping and dragging her foot as far up as his fuckin’ thigh like she wants to feel his cock jerk under her attention, like she knows he’s too wound-up to try feeling up her cunt under the table a second time — but he gets his shot after dinner, and he’s not about to waste it.
Nobody seems to’ve noticed it when Beth hopped the stairs up to the bathroom a minute ago, and it ain’t like he’s much for entertaining company so Daryl figures he can get away with following her. Ten minutes, maybe closer to fifteen if Judith starts fussin’, but that’s plenty of time. He’s aching and drooling in his jeans, skin sparking up like he licked along an electric fence. He’ll get off just fine, and he knows Beth well enough to know she’s been humming and throbbing since he fingered her cunt through those painted-on skinny jeans in the middle of her potato chip casserole.
Fuck him, but thinking about it like that makes this feel like even more depraved shit than it probably is. He knows it’s not, really, not when they both like it this much, but reasonably speaking he should probably keep Beth’s potato chip casserole out of it.
But, whatever. He’s not thinking about anything but Beth, period, when he tries the bathroom door and finds it unlocked, ‘cause she knew he was gonna follow her up here. She wants him to corner her, push her up against the wall and fuck her, just like she always does whenever she acts up and drives him fuckin’ nuts.
So he nudges the door open, then shuts it with a loud snap, flicks the lock and crowds her up against the counter where she’d been toweling off her hands. A little oomph! breaks past her lips, but she pushes her tight little ass back into his straining cock like she wants him to teach her a fucking lesson.
And that shit’s just fine by him.
He rucks up her shirt, gets his hands on her naked skin and his mouth on her neck, sloppy and greedy and gruff — “The fuck you think you’re doin’, huh?”
Daryl feels her cheek bunch up into another one of those smirks. “Well, I was goin’ to the bathroom —”
“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head, slicks his tongue up her neck and bites down when she arches her back. “You know what the fuck I’m talkin’ ‘bout, girl, don’t mess with me.”
“Wasn’t messing with you,” she protests, pretty voice hitched higher like she does whenever they play this game. She curls an arm behind her, winds it around his neck and digs her fingers into his hair, shit, that feels good. “Just wanted to flirt with you a little bit.”
Fuckin’ sure. Daryl huffs into her neck, sucks a hickey underneath her ponytail so she can hide it later but they’ll both still know it’s there. He doesn’t like it when she’s gotta cover that shit up; he’d rather just put ‘em where no one else’s allowed to look.
His hands shove up her bra, and he feels her midsection shudder with a barely-repressed giggle when she asks, all innocent, “What, you can’t handle a little footsie, huh, Daddy?”
“You wanna handle my dick in your pussy, huh?” He drags one hand down, pops the button on her jeans and pushes into her panties, finds her fucking soaked. Groans deep in his chest, hard enough it feels like the sound’s goddamn ripped outta him, like Beth’s reached her hand into his ribcage and torn out his fucking heart because it’s hers, it’s all hers. “Fuck, yeah, think you do. You bein’ bad just so I’d fuck you, that it?”
Beth’s breath kicks up, hips rolling into his hand when he slicks two fingers inside her and starts pumping.
“Wasn’t tryin’ to be bad,” she swears, panting, moaning high and sweet for him when he curls his fingers deep within her slick walls. “I wanna be good for you, Daddy. Just wanted you to know how much I like touchin’ you.”
Her own fingers clench in his hair, fixin’ to tear it out by the roots and, fuck, he wishes she would. Wishes she’d do whatever the hell she wants with him — knows she already does, that’s what all that teasing at dinner had been about, but he likes to feel it, too, likes the bite of her fingernails in his scalp, his shoulders, his back. Already got a lifetime of fuckin’ scars on him, and he wants Beth all over him, too.
He keeps up thrusting his fingers into her cunt, captures her mouth with his when she whines, swallowing it up so no one’ll hear, so they won’t catch the two of them going at it up against the bathroom sink. Probably ain’t the smartest thing, to be doing this right now, but Daryl can’t fucking help himself with this girl; he wants her, and she wants him to take her now, so what the hell else is he supposed to do, huh?
He’s got one option here, alright, and that’s to do whatever the fuck Beth wants.
And what she wants, apparently, is to yank his hair around her fingers and lick into his mouth the way he’s always licking into her cunt — eager and messy and tiptoeing along the teetering edge of orgasm, because it all feels so fucking unbelievably good with her, swear he could come if she just held his hand tight enough.
She hums into his mouth, bicep flexing around his neck when she kisses him deeper, when that hum turns to a yelp ‘cause he crooks his fingers and flicks her clit, and she’s sighing his name like she don’t know any other words and she doesn’t even need to, and —
And, Jesus fucking Christ, he’s in love with this girl. She’s so fuckin’ good to him, swear to god, he could lose his no-good goddamn mind over it.
“Like touchin’ you, too,” Daryl mutters into her lips. He tugs her jeans down, her underwear, too, just far enough so he’ll be able to get his cock inside of her. “But that don’t mean you ain’t bein’ a goddamn brat. Gonna fuck you hard ‘til you start actin’ right, you got me, girl?”
“Yeah — Jesus, yeah,” Beth gasps out when his fingers leave her sopping cunt, when he undoes his belt and the cool metal clip slaps her on the ass. She drops her hands, reaches back to smooth them down his thighs and pulls his jeans down little by little, like she wants to feel his bare skin up against hers.
Her fingernails bite into the denim and she bucks back, winds him up. “C’mon, Daddy, fuck me ‘til I’m good for you, please.”
Christ, he loves it when she begs for him. Wishes they had more time for it. Wishes he could beg for her, too, down on his knees, guiding her hips while he slurped at her cunt but, damn it, that shit’s just gonna have to wait ‘til he can get her back to his place.
“Best watch that fuckin’ mouth,” Daryl warns her. Angles her hips, palms his hard cock and lines it up to push inside of her. “Wanna be my good girl, toldja, you gotta start goddamn actin’ like one.”
She squirms in his grasp, makes his eyes cross when her ass bumps his cock like that. Shit, but he needs to get inside her, needs to feel her pussy suck him up and wring him fuckin’ dry.
They don’t have a whole lot of time, either, so Daryl notches his head against her opening, ready to fuck into her, but then —
“You got a condom?”
“Fuck no.” He sucks her earlobe harshly between his teeth, mutters into it, “You wanna be a damn cocktease, it’d serve you right, if I knocked you up.”
Not that he actually would, or even tease her about that shit, without her express permission. But they’ve talked about this before, that if things go this way — no rubber, heat of the moment, all this nasty shit she likes to hear him say to her — then he’ll take her to pick up a morning-after pill later. Neither of them’s ready for a kid yet. Shoot, Daryl never thought he’d have a kid at all, forget about wanting one, but it does somethin’ to him now, thinkin’ about what it’d be like, with Beth.
So, one day, yeah, probably, ‘cause he loves her, ‘cause he can get on board with whatever she wants and want it for himself, too. One day, just not yet.
She knows that, too, but he can still feel the giggle break outta her chest because she likes hearing him say this shit to her.
“Whatever you say, Daddy,” she agrees, and the words break off on a bitten-back moan when he pushes into her, hits that spot deep in her cunt soon as he can because he wants to make her come, and he’s wanted it all damn night.
His hands grip her hips and hers grip the edge of the sink, he tips her forward with every thrust and she holds on, bracing herself on the counter while he makes her teeth rattle and the clench of her pussy makes his eyes roll back, squeeze shut tight as he tries to focus. He’s hard as a goddamn rock but he’s gonna make her come first, just like always, even though she spent the whole damn night pissing him off, fuck, he wants to feel her hit her orgasm ‘cause of him.
“You close?” he grunts out, when he punches his dick into her hard, makes her keel over the sink, panting, nipping off every groan that tries to escape. Jesus, he wants to take her home so she can make all the noises she wants. “C’mon, baby, gotta come for me, don’t got all goddamn day.”
“Want you to fuck me longer,” Beth whines, the way she does when she’s tryna get him to blow his fuckin’ load for her, fuck. She squeezes her cunt for him, too, so he knows that’s what she’s after. “Please.”
Her feet bump back against his. He can feel her toes curl all over again, only this time it’s ‘cause of what he’s doing to her.
“Fuckin’ can’t.” Daryl groans, rough and pitiful, folds himself over her back and pistons into her harder, faster. Wraps his arms around her middle and holds her close. “You fuckin’ know I can’t. C’mon, be a good girl an’ come for me, an’ I’m gonna take you home later, stay inside you long as you want.”
She hums some more, like she’s happy to hear it. Must be happy enough to listen to him, too, because he feels it when her hand moves to her clit, feels her knuckles brush his dick when he twists his hips, works deeper into her —
“Want me to touch myself for you, Daddy?”
“No, nuh-huh.” He bats her hand aside, replaces it with his own. Fingers her clit ‘til her spine spasms against his chest. “Wanna get you off my damn self. You wanna drive me up the fuckin’ wall all night, you’re only gonna come when I say you can, got that?”
“Mmph.” Beth’s head tilts back, loose hairs sticking to Daryl’s mouth as he pants hot into her mussed ponytail. “Yeah, Daddy, c’mon, love it when you get me off, makes me feel so good, I’m gonna — fuck, Daryl —”
He catches her mouth with his again, swallows up that scream when he makes her come, trades it for her name as he moans it, deep and guttural, into her mouth as he empties inside of her. Hot and wet and sticky, he feels her come on his cock, feels it on his hand as he thumbs her through the aftershocks. His muscles shudder and hers tremble, and he drinks up every one of her whimpers even as she takes every last one of his muttered, satisfied curses.
His palms slip down to her thighs, rubbing out the trembling tension there as she comes down from her peak. He plucks at her swollen lips with his, slow, languid, even though they’re just about out of time before someone notices they’ve been gone.
But it’s hard to kiss her when he takes her from behind like this, and he wants to fucking kiss her.
“Alright?” he murmurs, the word muffled between their mouths, but she hears him just fine. Nods.
“Mm-huh.” Her lips shape up into a grin, teasing him. “Always alright when I get what I want from you, Daddy.”
“And you always fuckin’ do, huh?” Daryl taps her on the ass, tugs her pants back up around her hips. “Fuckin’ trouble.”
Beth giggles again, turns around to press that goddamn pretty mouth to his more fully, so she can really slick those lips over his and kiss him ‘til he goes dizzy. She tastes like too much pepper and crisp cool water, and just a hint of that vanilla ChapStick she likes so much — just a hint, ‘cause Daryl licked most of it off already.
She tugs at his rumpled shirtfront, and he hopes no one downstairs’ll notice the state of his clothes, but right now he can’t muster up too much of a fuck about it.
She smiles, eyes gone all bright like they do whenever she looks at him. “I love you.”
“Yeah?” He grins, just a little, as much as he ever does. Sneaks another kiss off her, pinches her hips to tickle her, so he can taste another one of those giggles. “Love you, too.”
And, alright, so they’re as good as outta time by now, but like hell is Daryl about to tell her no when Beth tilts her head, when she takes that kiss deeper, because — well, he did lock the bathroom door, didn’t he? They can take another minute to themselves.
Her bare feet nudge his boots again, and he can feel it when her pink toes curl.