When Daryl gets to the guard tower at sundown, it’s to find Beth already there, sat cross-legged on the floor and tying an absentminded braid into her ponytail. She does that a lot, always playin’ with that mess of hair like she’s gotta keep her hands busy.
Daryl’s own twitchy fingers get that; probably part of the reason why he smokes so much, ‘cause he’s gotta do something or else he wouldn’t know what to do at all. It’s a nervous tic, a habit there ain’t no point in tryna kick, ‘cause what the hell else is there to do these days?
Either she heard the creak of the door or she can feel his eyes on her, but either way Beth looks around. Smiles when she sees him, and that messes up his gut just like it does every other time. Shit, but he’s never felt like this before. Can’t decide if he likes it all that much, but he does like it when Beth smiles, so. It ain’t so bad.
“Hey.” She pats the floor next to her. “Wanna sit?”
“Uh.” Daryl slips his crossbow from his shoulder, sets it against the makeshift wall. The metal shudders. “Yeah.”
His knee bumps hers when he sits, but she doesn’t move out of the way and neither does he. Fuck him, but he likes it when she touches him, when he’s touching her. That’s new, too, how good that feels.
“So, um.” Beth twists her hands in her lap. Daryl wonders if he should reach over and hold one of them. “Sorry about earlier.”
He frowns. “What for?”
“For kinda freaking out for a second there, I guess. I thought it might be Maggie lookin’ for me, and she, uh. She kinda knows — um.” Beth slants him an apologetic kinda smile. A little nervous, and that makes Daryl nervous, so now he does reach for her hand, twines their fingers together to keep his from shaking.
She must feel it, because she gives him a squeeze, and rubs comforting circles against the side of his hand with her thumb. “Well, she knows I have a crush on you, anyway. I didn’t tell her either way, but she figured it out. So she knows that, and she’s fine with it, but I don’t — I dunno what she’d think if she found out you like me, too.”
Oh. Daryl swallows thickly. Stares at their interlaced fingers, at the gentle pass of Beth’s thumb across his rough skin. Tries not to panic. “Think she’s gonna be pissed?”
Beth shakes her head. “Surprised, maybe? She’ll get used to it. Why?” she asks, and the word comes out halting, like she’s afraid of what he’s gonna say to it. Daryl knows that feeling. “D’you — do you not wanna do this? If it upsets people?”
Fuck that. Far as Daryl’s concerned, folks got more to worry about than what he and Beth decide they wanna do together. He figures they’ll feel the same, even if it does take some getting used to. And maybe he’ll have to have a sit-down with Hershel or somethin’; the man’s the type who’d appreciate that, and Daryl knows Glenn went through the ringer over Maggie. He can do that, too. Wants to, even, if it means making this whole thing easier.
“Nah.” He hesitates a second but then, fuck it, he puts his free hand on Beth’s knee and tugs her a little closer to him. He needs to feel her close. “Still wanna, if you do.”
“I do.” Daryl’s still looking at their hands — it’s getting too dark to distinguish much, but still he can see the pale lines of Beth’s fingers standing out against his darker, rougher ones — but he can hear the smile in her voice. “I just. Wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”
He shrugs. “Might be a pain in the ass at first, but I dealt with worse.”
“Yeah.” Beth tips her forehead against his shoulder, then presses her lips against his bare skin. Her mouth is dry, warm, but it still makes him tremble. She squeezes his hand again and teases him, “This ain’t so bad, all things considered.”
“Yeah?” Daryl snorts, one corner of his mouth twitching. “See if your friend Zach feels that way,”
Christ. She nips at him with her teeth, all of ‘em probably showing, she’s grinnin’ so damn much, but Daryl’s not about to give her the satisfaction of confirming her smartass remarks as true.
So he snorts again, derisive this time and a little too forceful to be believed. “Hell no.”
“You sound jealous.”
“An’ you sound fuckin’ annoyin’.”
That makes her laugh, and the sound breaks apart on his skin and makes him shiver all over again. Jesus, but this girl can make him shake.
And that should make him feel weak, stupid, something, like he’s a pussy or somethin’, only it doesn’t, because Beth don’t try to make him feel that way. Girl’s actually pretty fuckin’ insistent about making him feel good, so maybe it ain’t no wonder why he wants to be around her so much. Why he wants to make her feel the same way.
Anyway, she’s already seen him naked — by accident, sure, but what the hell does that matter now? — and she’s had her tongue in his mouth, hand down his pants, hot breath and hotter whispers on his neck, like, damn, it ain’t like there’s much more for him to be vulnerable about. She’s knocked down those walls and then some. That should annoy him, and maybe it does, a little, but only because he hadn’t seen it coming. Maybe if he had, maybe then he’d know how to keep this shit goin’ without going out of his mind worrying that he’s gonna fuck it up.
“Hey.” Beth lifts their joined hands to chuck him under the chin, to make him look at her. “You don’t gotta be. I’m only teasin’, but I promise, Daryl, you don’t gotta worry about me with anybody else. Think we got enough to worry about as it is.”
“Yeah.” He swallows, but his voice still feels like sandpaper scratching up his throat. He knows he wanted her there, but, damn, when’d she get so close to him? “Guess we do.”
She smiles. It’s getting too dark to see, but Daryl’s pretty sure he’s always gonna be able to see that. “I like you, remember?”
And, yeah, he oughta know that by now. Leave it to him to get his hand down this girl’s pants and still wonder whether she wants to be with him. Christ. How many times is she gonna have to tell him before he gets it, huh?
But he does get it. He believes her; Beth ain’t no liar, she don’t play games. So he knows, yeah, just… He doesn’t want her to go regretting it.
“Yeah,” he says again, because he can’t bring himself to say the rest of it. His free hand smooths over her cheek, fingers snarled in her hair to tilt her mouth towards his. “I remember.”
Now he tastes that smile, too, when he slicks his mouth over hers. It tastes like she’d been out in the sun all day, chapped and warm; tastes like the orange juice she drank with dinner and like she hadn’t brushed her teeth before she met him in the guard tower. He doesn’t mind. Nah, it gives his chest a kinda jolt to think she’d been too eager to be alone with him to bother with shit like that.
Her tongue slips between his lips, curling around his and yanking a moan from deep in his chest, like it’s a physical, tangible thing she’s got a hook around. Like just one touch from her could pull whatever she wants outta him: rough moans, gruff curses, her name, over and over again, while he pants into her mouth and kisses her harder. Like she could pull out his goddamn heart — and she can have the damn thing if she wants it, what the fuck does he need it for if he’s not giving it to her?
It seems really, really fucking stupid that one accidental look at him in the showers a couple days ago got them here. But Daryl’ll take fucking stupid over staring after her and wishing for fucking anything. Shit, he’d felt like some sorta lovesick dumbass with puppy dog eyes and not a shot in hell, and now… Nah, fuck that. He doesn’t wanna do that anymore.
What he wants to do, is lick into her mouth and press her back against the floor, dusty and hard and the boards creak when you move too much and — dammit, it’s better than the walls they’ve been up against lately, but he can still do better for her. He knows there’s a couple sleeping bags laying around, people come up here to fuck so much.
“Hold up a sec.” Fuck, his throat hurts, chest pinching as he tries to catch his breath. He’s got one arm latched around Beth’s middle, and his free hand pats around behind her ‘til it snags on a roll of nylon. Shit better be clean or he’s gonna kick somebody’s ass, though it ain’t likely he’ll be able to find out who deserves it.
He unrolls it best he can without letting go of Beth. Even if he wanted to — and he damn well doesn’t — she doesn’t seem too inclined to go anywhere, seein’ as how she’s sucking on his earlobe, making him cuss up a storm when she pants all hot and heavy up against it. The sound echoes and settles deep into his skin, in his nerves, so they’re rattled and shivering and Jesus goddamn Christ, if he can’t get this sleeping bag rolled out he’s just gonna lay her ass out on the floor, after all, he doesn’t have the patience for this shit.
He’s managed it good as it’s gonna get before he slips his hands down to Beth’s thighs, hooks his grip around her knees and uses the leverage to get her flat on her back. A little whuff! of surprise escapes her, but she can’t follow it with so much as a giggle before Daryl’s climbed on top of her and fused his mouth back to hers.
There’s a crackle of static in her hair that Daryl smooths out when he runs his hands through the wreck of her ponytail, and he shivers some more when she runs hers down his back. She knows about the scars there — everybody in their family does, even if they haven’t seem ‘em — but she’s touching him, anyway, touching him like it doesn’t matter how ugly he is, ‘cause she don’t look at him like that. ‘Cause one touch from her makes everything just as pretty as she is. Just like when she sings all those crooning old love songs he used to hate, but then he hears ‘em while she’s rocking Judith to sleep and suddenly it’s the best thing he’s ever heard. Sure as hell’s the sweetest, but he never cared about none of that sweet shit, neither, not ‘til Beth came along.
She even tastes sweet, he thinks when he sucks on her tongue. Probably drooling all over her chin at this point, but it ain’t like Beth’s kissing him back with any more rhythm or expertise. They’re both sloppy and handsy and eager, like they’re dying to make the most of a little time alone.
He thought so the last couple times, too, the first times — how sweet she is. Maybe it’s the orange juice lingering on her tongue, but, nah, he don’t think that’s it. Doesn’t know what it is, only that it’s Beth and he wants more. Wants more of something he never so much as thought about before. And now here Beth is, making him want her and a whole mess of shit that wasn’t even on his radar ‘til she touched him.
And the way she’s touching him now’s got him going. Hands rubbing down his spine and around to caress over his heartbeat, rabbiting like he’s gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack over her, tracing the buttons on his shirtfront like she wants to pop ‘em and, damn, he wishes she just fucking would already. He doesn’t wanna think about it, doesn’t wanna worry over what she’s gonna think of him when she gets her hands on his bare skin, all rough and scarred, worn down from work and hating himself —
But, no. No, Beth’s not gonna think like that. She’s not gonna hate him, too, she’s not gonna recoil and decide she doesn’t want him, after all. Not ‘cause of how he looks. She’s just gonna touch him, and probably wind up holding him closer, just like she did before.
He tucks a hand under her shirt just as she undoes the first button on his. He feels her muscles constrict, feels goosebumps rising on her skin like they’re following the path of his hand.
He goes slow and so does she, ready to stop if she tells him to and vice-versa, he thinks. Knows it, when he lets up on kissing her for a second just so he can breathe, and she asks him, “This okay?”
He nods, forehead knocking lightly against hers. “Keep goin’,” he murmurs, the words rumbling deep as he presses kisses to her throat and his thumb finds the front clasp of her bra. He wonders if it’s the same one she wore the other day, when she’d walked in on him with her shirt undone. Probably is; ain’t like they got much occasion to do laundry unless it’s piled up to critical mass.
Beth gets his shirt open before he can decide whether or not he should try to feel her up — and, Christ, what’s there to decide, it’s literally what they’re fuckin’ here to do — and she scratches through the scruff on his chest, spreads her fingers over his heartbeat, and he just… Fuck, but he’s gonna collapse in on himself, she keeps touching him like that.
He groans into her neck, swears under his breath when her warm palms map the broken planes of his body, lighting him up everywhere she touches like she’s struck a match and goddamn lit him on fire. God, he knows how it feels when she gets her hands on him, she jerked him off, for fuck’s sake, but he ain’t never gettin’ used to what it does to his heart, his gut, his lungs, when Beth puts her hands on him just ‘cause she wants to be good to him. Ain’t ever been nobody who wanted to do that for him before.
If he thought he wanted her a minute ago, it’s somethin’ even more now. Her fingertips on his bare skin flipped a switch, like he was toein’ the line between common sense and fucking feralty, and now he’s tipped right over into this eat-him-alive greedy need to have all of her all at once.
He kisses up her neck and shrugs off his shirt, flings it aside, for once in his life not giving a shit about the scars on his back so long as it’s gonna be Beth who touches them, who soothes it all away even if that calm only lasts for right now. He’ll take it, ‘cause he knows she’ll give it to him again, too.
“Off, c’mon,” he mutters as he licks along the line of her jaw, pushing up her shirt and palming her ribcage. Still more prominent than it should be, because they might be doin’ alright at the prison but it’s never gonna be like it used to be, and for Daryl that’s just fine. He doesn’t want what used to be, because he used to be nothing, nobody, and by now, well, maybe he’s not much but he’s enough. Enough to keep the people he cares about safe as they can be, enough to keep Beth happy. “C’mon, Beth, take the damn thing off for me.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Dixon, sir.”
Daryl growls, huffs, tries to ignore what that shit does to him when Beth mouths off like that. She does manage a giggle this time, breathless as she squirms beneath him. When she loses the shirt, her hair crackles with static again, but she’s the one to smooth it out this time, while Daryl runs his hands over her stomach, chasing every shiver that passes through, fingers digging into her naked waist when she rolls her hips up against his. And, shit, how the hell didn’t he know he was hard ‘til now, when she thrusts her cunt up the stiff line of his dick, and — fuck, her shirt’s not enough, he wants her jeans off, too.
One goddamn step at a time, though. He wants her now, yeah, but he wants her feeling just as fucked up as he is, so he ain’t done yet.
He plants open-mouthed kisses down the line of her throat, feels it bob when she swallows, feels her pulse skip up a couple beats while her breath comes sharp and shallow. Her fingers spear through his hair when he licks between her tits, and she pulls when he bites at her bra clasp. Just like he wanted to do the other day, when she caught him in the shower and his brain went dead, thinkin’ about how bad he wanted to drag her into the stall and get on his knees for her under a rush of cold water while nobody else was around.
Ain’t no shower in the guard tower, but they don’t need it. Least nobody else is around right now; might be walking the fence, but that’s good as they’re gonna get, and that’s good enough for Daryl.
Not trusting himself to do it with his mouth, he uses his fingers to pop the clasp the rest of the way off. Last thing he needs is to break the damn thing. Just ‘cause Beth seems to think she can go around braless whenever she feels like it don’t mean he’s gotta give her a reason. She might not think anyone’s gonna notice, but he sure the hell does, which means a few of those Woodbury assholes probably do, too.
He hates thinking about that shit. Doesn’t even know why he does it, only they can’t back the fuck off — Zach was bad enough, and that was just today — so what the fuck else is he supposed to do but get pissed about it every time?
Shit’s really starting to get to him when he doesn’t want it to, so Daryl tries to shake it off. He’s the one here with Beth because that’s what she wants, he’s what she wants, and that’s the shit he needs to keep in mind.
He flips one of bra cups aside and swipes his tongue over her nipple, holds her down when she twitches, slurps at her like he could suck her heart right out through her chest if he had half a mind to. Hell, call him crazy, but maybe she wants to give it to him same as he’d give her his.
When he swirls his tongue around her nipple again, Beth twitches some more. Her back arches and Daryl’s mouth opens wider, slobbering over her breast like she’s been served up on a silver platter instead of a shitty nylon sleeping bag that may or may not but probably wouldn’t pass a blacklight inspection.
But it’s not like that thought’s gonna stop him from getting his mouth all over her, so. Fuck it, right?
He moves on to her stomach, groaning every time she tugs a little harder on his hair. She can pull it out by the roots, far as he cares, so long as it’s because he’s making her feel good.
“Daryl.” She sighs his name, kinda raspy like she’d taken up smoking. Her bracelets bump his forehead when she cards her fingers through his hair. He makes a mental note to tell her to take those off at some point tonight; if she’s gonna touch his scars, he wants to touch hers, too.
“Hm?” The band of her bra must’ve dug into her skin, left a mark behind, because the top of her ribcage is rubbed red all the way across. He sucks a bruise over it, underneath her heartbeat, as he undoes the snap and zip of her jeans.
He doesn’t expect her to answer, didn’t really figure she had anything to say besides moaning his name while she wriggled beneath him, and like hell’s he about to complain about that. So Daryl continues his trek downwards, dragging his mouth down her warm, salty skin to where she’s all hot and humid past the parted teeth of her zipper. Where he’d buried his fingers just the other day, where he fully intends to bury his face, his tongue, every muttered, fucking tortured curse that comes to mind when he gets Beth to come for him again, when he gets to taste it this time around.
He’s licking her navel, fingers hooked in her waistband, when Beth yanks him up by the hair and, fuck, what’s she gone and stopped him for?
“What’re you” — her chest’s heaving, moonlight catching in her wide bright eyes — “what’re you doing?”
Daryl blinks. Frowns. He’s pretty sure she knows exactly what he’s doing. He ain’t ever been much for subtlety, and anyway it seemed pretty obvious from where he’s sitting. Then again, where he’s sitting is on his stomach between her spread legs, mouth poised above her undone jeans. He’s well the fuck aware of what he’d been about to do. Maybe it ain’t so clear from Beth’s point of view.
Or — nah. Nah, she’s gotta know. Beth might be just as inexperienced as he is, but she ain’t stupid. But she is kinda shy — not the way most folks are shy, ‘cause she knows how to speak up when she needs to, knows how to keep a conversation going, knows how to make most anybody smile. But she still wears those bracelets, same way Daryl only ever strips his shirt off when he’s alone (until tonight, anyway). So maybe she ain’t bold as brass as she’d like people to think. She don’t wanna be underestimated, and maybe that’s why she don’t wanna be vulnerable, neither.
Don’t get much more vulnerable than letting someone get their head between your thighs, so. Daryl thinks he knows where her sudden hesitation’s coming from. And he thinks, maybe, he might know how to soothe it away.
Because he remembers what it was like the other day, when all that tension between them broke open. He remembers all that stuff she said to him, about how much she wants him. Remembers the tight clench of her cunt around his fingers when he started talkin’ back, when he told her how he wants to fuck her. She liked that shit — likes talking him through it, tellin’ him what’s on her mind and driving him goddamn crazy enough to tell her what’s on his, too.
So. Alright. He can do that.
“Wanna go down on you. C’mon, Beth” — he’s fucking begging her, right out the gate and he couldn’t give a shit, got his hands caught up in her waistband and he’s tugging it down — “c’mon, lemme lick your pussy. Swear I’m gonna do it good for you.”
That seems to clear shit up. Beth’s muscles spasm, and he fuckin’ hears that giggle in her voice even as she tries to swallow it down. “I know you are, Daryl, but you don’t — you don’t gotta.”
“Want to. C’mon, please. Fuck,” he swears when her boots get in the way. He smacks her calf. “Girl, get these the fuck off. Made me feel so goddamn good the other day, I wanna do that for you.”
“You did,” she tells him, but she’s already shucking her boots and he’s tearing off her jeans so fast it’s a wonder they don’t rip straight down the seam. “God, Daryl, you already did.”
“Wanna do it again.”
Because he can — he can do it again, he can be good to her all he wants, better than any of these other assholes at the prison. There’s a reasonable part of him that knows she’s not gonna just up and dump his ass for somebody else, but an even more reasonable part insists that he get his mouth on her cunt, anyway.
He curls a hand in the band of her underwear, ready to chuck those across the guard tower to join his shirt and the rest of her clothes, but only if she gives him the go-ahead.
“You want me to?” he asks, and — thank the good fuckin’ lord Daryl doesn’t even believe in — she nods.
So maybe he can give the man upstairs a little credit, after all.
He can think about that later. (He won’t, actually, but he sure as fuck ain’t about to sit here debating religious integrity or whatever shit when he’s got Beth spread out beneath him, knees twitching farther apart to make room
for him in the cradle of her thighs.) For now, he strips off her underwear and tosses them in the general direction of their ever-growing pile of clothes. He hears another rustle when Beth throws her bra that way.
Part of him wants to lean back on his haunches, look her over, see all those lean pale lines, see if she’s got any more scratches on her that she hides away underneath her clothes the way he does. Ain’t likely, but it’s too dark to tell, anyhow. Can’t see much, but he can feel her — skin hot and soft when he passes his hands over it, toned limbs fidgeting, calluses on her palms and soft downy hair on her thighs. A couple of her bracelets jangle, quiet, the way windchimes used to sound when a summer breeze passed through.
Used to, ‘cause Daryl hasn’t heard real windchimes since before the world went to shit. He’s willing to bet Beth hasn’t, either. Willing to bet it was a sound she liked, too. He’ll have to ask her sometime.
Sometime, not now, ‘cause even if he can’t look at her the way he wants to, he can still get his head between her thighs and make her come. Hopefully. He’s never actually done this before, so —
“Hm?” He laps at the crease of her thigh, feels her shudder, but it don’t stop her from talking.
“I meant what I said, y’know. You don’t gotta. We can just…” Her fingernails scratch at his scalp when he starts sucking on her skin. “I want you. That’s all. Doesn’t matter what we do.”
Yeah, well, truth is Daryl’s not convinced he’s gonna last long enough to get her off; once he’s inside her, because it’s Beth and he’s wanted her so bad it fucking hurts, he’d bet money — if money even meant anything anymore, but the point is — that he’s gonna lose it after about thirty seconds, tops. Doesn’t matter how much she wants his dick, the thing’s not invincible, and sure enough her pussy’s gonna wreck him. He wants to make her come before he makes a damn fool of himself.
“Can’t just up and fuck you, girl,” he mutters. “Wanna get you wet first.”
“Think you did that already.”
Jesus. He can hear that smirk in her voice. Smartass. He nips at her inner thigh, holds her tight when she twitches, tells her, “Wanna taste it.”
Sure enough Beth ain’t mouthin’ off now, so Daryl figures he’d better take that little keening whimper of hers and run with it, whether he knows what he’s doin’ or not.
And he doesn’t, but when he licks his tongue up her slit her body seizes up beneath him like maybe he ain’t doin’ such a half-assed job. Like maybe he’s just gotta suck on her pussy same way he does grease off his fingers, and they’ll both come down from the guard tower happy as can damn well be.
Worth a shot, ain’t it?
He thrusts his tongue inside her, same as he wants to give her his dick. Her body shakes and her hips jump and she makes this sound, like he’s just cracked all the tension outta her sore muscles. She’s like a puddle beneath him, all loose and soft, except her grip on his hair’s tight as ever. Makes his eyes cross, but that might have somethin’ to do with how good her pussy tastes, too.
She’s all hot and musky, like the first drag off a cigarette when he’s been jonesing for weeks. Only she’s sweeter than any rush of nicotine, tangy, like that orange juice she drank is passing from her throat all the way down to his. Like her come’s just as sugar-sweet as citrus juice, and all he’s gotta do to get it is touch her a way she likes.
He takes it slow for a minute, to figure that out. Suss out what it is she likes. He’s curious, wants to explore her, what makes her sigh and spasm and pull his hair harder. He wants to make it good for her.
Pretty good for him already. He’s gotta undo his jeans, give his drooling dick some room to breathe when Beth’s legs cross behind his back. Callused heels bump his scars, and her thighs close around his ears so every noise she makes sounds closer, and he can feel ‘em in his bones like it’s him who’s goin’ off like that.
So it must be good, if she’s makin’ all them sounds like she is. He eats up the reverberations of her moans same as he’s eating her cunt, lapping ‘em up along with her arousal.
He did that, fucking hell, that’s all for him. Nobody else; just him and her, his mouth fused to her cunt, Beth’s skin popping with goosebumps when he drags the flat of his tongue up her slit and thrusts it back inside. Daryl groans into her, ruts against the sleeping bag just like she’s rutting up against his face.
He thumbs at her clit and shoves his other hand underneath to cup her ass. That’s when it clicks, that he’s got Beth head-to-toe fucking naked under him. She’s givin’ up every inch for him. He’s working her open with his fingers and tongue, getting her wet and ready to take his dick, just like she’s been begging him for, like he’s been fuckin’ killing himself to give her. Whatever she wants, and she wants him, shit, he ain’t ever wrapping his head around that.
So he wraps his lips around her clit instead, sucks on it like he could physically pull the orgasm outta her if he wanted it bad enough. And, fuck him, but he ain’t never wanted anything more.
Christ, but this girl makes him desperate.
“C’mon, Beth,” he mumbles, flattening his tongue against her clit and licking. Clamps a hand around her hip when she bucks up. “C’mon, you gonna come for me? Gotta come for me, girl, wanna get you off ‘fore I fuck you.”
He slips a finger inside her, then two when she takes him easy. Catches her gasp on his fingertips and curls them, coaxing more of those sounds outta her while he nurses her clit.
“Oh, God, Daryl —” Beth’s voice is husky, breathing labored. His own throat feels raw just listening to her, but it’s a sweet sort of ache and he wants more of it. More of her, all of her.
Trust him to get his mouth on her pussy and even still he wants more.
He glances up to watch her, but it’s pitch-black up here by now. The moonlight ain’t filtering into the guard tower at this angle, so he can only register the vague up-and-down movements of her chest as she breathes, the crane of her neck as she tilts her head back. Daryl makes a mental note to suck her off someplace with a goddamn lightbulb next time.
“Yeah, c’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs. Keeps up the pace, a little faster now, takes her a little rougher with his fingers. She liked that, last time. “Lemme get you off. Just me, ain’t that right?”
“Just you.” Beth don’t skip a beat to reassure him, makes his heart all but stop, before he sucks at her hard and her breath catches on a high, needy moan. “Just want you, Daryl, swear to God —”
She’s gettin’ loud enough that he’s gotta clap a hand over her mouth. Not ‘cause he don’t wanna hear it when she comes for him — Jesus, he wants that — but he’s gonna have a shit ton of explaining to do if the sound brings a horde of geeks down on the prison.
“Better settle the fuck down,” he tells her. Flicks the tip of his tongue across her clit fast, over and over, feels her breath coming just as fast and hot in his hand. “You start screamin’, we’re gonna get caught ‘fore I can give you my dick like you want so damn bad.”
She whimpers, puckers her lips against his palm and runs her tongue up the length of one of his fingers. His cock twitches and he ruts harder into the nylon, wishing like hell he was buried in the tight clench of her pussy, god damn but he wants to fuck this girl so deep that she’s gonna feel him every time she takes a step.
He tightens his hold on her mouth, not enough to hurt, just to get his point across. “Don’t wanna get caught, Beth,” he tells her, voice burning in his throat like he’s just sucked down ash instead of her come. “You know how bad I wanna fuck you? This pussy’s all I fuckin’ think about.” He slurps at her, makes her nails dig into his scalp, like she wants to carve her place deep into his bones like she ain’t already there. “Don’t wanna let you up ‘til you can’t take it anymore, you hear me? Wanna make you come ‘til you tell me to stop. Gonna have to beg me to stop, girl, you got that? ‘Cause I ain’t gonna want to.”
He gives her ass a sharp smack, then pushes his fingers back into her cunt and crooks them. “Tell me you’re gonna beg me, Beth, or I’m gonna keep you up with me all goddamn night.”
She moans, deep and guttural, and somewhere in that echo he hears her say, “I want you to.”
Fuck him, he wants that, too. Looks like he’s the one begging her, after all; looks like that’s just the way he likes it.
One of her hands covers the one he’s got on her mouth, fingers crisscrossing as she holds on to him. Her other hand stays put in his hair, like his stays busy feeling up her cunt. He wishes he had a couple others, too, to hold her hip, palm her tits, jerk himself off while she comes in his mouth, Christ, he could get off just listening to her while she does —
Because she’s doing it, right now, with a strangled cry of his name that he catches in his palm. Quick as he can, he swaps his fingers with his tongue, ‘cause he wants to swallow up her come, wants it to linger on his taste buds so even if they gotta split up for their own cells by morning, he won’t have to go to bed without her.
He works her through it, thumbing idly at her clit while he laps up every drop of her release. Beth relaxes beneath him, bit by bit, tension unwinding ‘til her body all but melts under his touch.
Her grip relaxes in his hair, too, and next thing he knows she’s carding her fingers through it, petting him. Shit, he likes that. He nudges his nose against the apex of her thighs, sucks a kiss along the crease. They’re both damp with sweat and he likes the way she smells after he’s made her come.
Daryl rubs her leg. “You good?”
“Oh, yeah,” Beth laughs. She’s quieter now, like she’s got her head on straight. Potential danger notwithstanding, actually, Daryl feels pretty damn good that he could make her lose it like that. Probably a good thing it’s so dark up here, otherwise Beth’d sure have some wisecrack about the smug look on his face.
Oh, well. He figures he’s earned it.
He tips his forehead against her stomach. Kisses her there. “Mmf. Good.”
They’re gonna have to get up sooner or later, clean up and head inside. Daryl’s hoping he can find someplace else for them to be alone, somewhere more comfortable. Ain’t like there’s any feather beds stored in the prison or nothin’, but he figures even one of their regulation mattresses will do better than a ratty sleeping bag.
For right now, though — just another minute, with Beth’s fingers running through his hair and Daryl’s sweeping circles up her thighs, another minute while their breathing settles — the ratty sleeping bag’ll do just fine.