A wave of heads did turn, or so I’ve been told
My heart broke when I saw you kept your gaze controlled
Crave You by Flight Facilities
It’s getting late, the sun having just laid down for the evening. The block is quiet, but then again it’s always quiet. It’s safer that way. Well, whatever safe was now.
He’s on the porch, mostly hidden from view through the banister and high hedges. She can see the red-orange light of his cigarette from her window. The lights in her room are off, so he shouldn’t be able to see her, but something tells her he’s looking anyway. Anyone else might call her crazy for the thought. Since Beth Greene stepped foot in the Alexandria Safe Zone, the stares and looks have varied. Shock. Relief. Fear. Love. No one has been able to take their eyes off the dead girl walking back into their lives with a hole in her head and breath in her chest.
Except Daryl Dixon.
No matter how hard she tries—how sneaky she is to try and corner him—she has yet to feel his heavy gaze really seeing her.
It’s driving her crazier than a bullet scrambling her brain.
Beth backs away from the window, walking with purpose down the steps and outside. She knows he can see her coming. She literally lives next door. Her footsteps are quiet down the stairs of her house and then up the stairs of his. Daryl is sitting with his back pressed against the stark white spindles and his long hair hides his eyes but she knows he’s not looking at her. Her heart squeezes at the thought because his hair wasn’t so long the last time she had seen him and all it does is further emphasize the time that has passed. All that they’ve missed. Everything that’s so clearly changed inside of him, died inside of him, laid out.
She’s standing in front of the front door and she can hear their family inside having the supper she declined to attend by feigning a headache. They all sound so happy, so alive. She distantly wonders if they’ve felt that way since they hid themselves behind these walls, or if that light only returned when she did. Either way, she’s glad for it. They healed. They lived. She stares hard at Daryl’s crumpled form.
Well, most of them.
She glances around at the empty street and at the solid door between her and her family. Out of the corner of her eye she can see the twitch of his head, but when she looks at him again all she gets is the fire and smoke of his cigarette.
Beth takes four steps forward until her dirty sneakers are nearly pressed to the hard tip of his boots. She stands there for a few moments and when he’s smoked the damn stick to it’s filter and has no choice but to discard it, she kneels in front of him. When he finally looks up, when she finally sees the first face she remembered after waking up in hot Atlanta heat in the trunk of a car, she understands the phrase be careful what you wish for.
Just like that, she knows why it’s taken so many weeks for this moment to happen. It’s not that he wasn’t ready, it’s that she wasn’t. Hell, she’s not sure if she is now, but she’s forced his hand.
Daryl’s sitting with his knees up, strong and dirty forearms resting on kneecaps and they remain in place when he spreads his legs. Her eyes catch his right hand and the gesture that couldn’t be construed as anything but what it is.
She shuffles forward on her knees until her thighs meet his and she has no choice but to place her cold hands on his chest to keep from falling over and into him. She smiles at the rise and fall of him beneath her fingers and he watches her, God, he looks at her. She presses more of her weight on him and leans forward until their foreheads press and their noses bump. He’s nearly cross eyed from keeping her in his sights and she wants to laugh at how different this is from the others, how his gaze lays across her skin like a blanket that smells of home and warmth.
“They lookin’ at you like they seein’ a ghost but—” His hot breath falls across her mouth and she holds her own at the tremble in his voice, “I been seein’ your ghost for a long time. I know the real thing when I see it.”
Finally, finally, his hands come up and in another life, in another world, she might have cringed back from the fingers not quite dirty but not quite clean on her skin. Yet this is where she is and this is the life that she was given a second chance for so she simply leans into the gentle touch. Their first kiss is a funny thing. It’s delicate and soft and not who they are anymore. When they pull back they share a look of apprehension.
“I ain’t broken, Daryl.” She says it because she thinks he might need the confirmation but when his lips twitch into a smirk she understands she’s read him all wrong.
“You gonna be.”
Her face burns with a sudden flush at his teasing statement. His thumbs graze her blood red cheeks and in the next kiss she finds out exactly who they’re going to be from this point forward. His lips are chapped and thin, and scrape almost uncomfortably against her own, but his tongue is hot and wet and clumsy and enthusiastic. The comforting cradle of his hands move to a more demanding hold as he shakes her hair from her loose ponytail to wrap the blonde strands around his fists. When he tugs to arch her further into him she can’t help the debauched moan. A loud moan. She turns to look at the house but he pays it no mind, lips latching on to her neck and sucking hard enough to bruise. Her whimper is quieter but not quiet enough. They should really move this somewhere private.
Beth doesn’t move away because he’s got a solid grip on her and to try and leave would be painful in a way that’s a little too tempting, but she does push her hand against his chest to alert him. He releases the flesh of her neck with a wet pop and noses at her temple instead.
“Someone might see, we should…” She trails off at his low chuckle. Partially because it makes her squirm, and partially because it makes her feel like she’s going to fly away at the sound she hasn’t heard in so, so long.
His hands have slipped from her hair and down her neck, fingers catching the collar of her shirt. Any protests die on her lips when he pulls hard enough to stretch the fabric until it’s caught under the tiny swell of her breasts. “Let’em.”
She knows she should expect it, prepare for it even, but the touch of calloused fingers shoving aside the cups of her bra to circle and pinch already sensitive nipples feels like an electric shock. His answer takes a long moment to process through the haze of pleasure and she feels embarrassed that the idea makes her shake with equal parts nerves and excitement. His large hands grip her sides and lift until she’s within reach of his mouth. The wet suction of his lips forces her hands from his chest and into his dirty hair, and she bows forward to moan into the dark strands as he licks and nips. She gets lost in it for a while. The stubble rubbing painfully against her skin, the teeth and lips and tongue. He keeps on until she’s pulling away more than she’s pressing in, and when he sits back his face is damp with his own spit and she almost wants to cry at the look in his eye because she knows that light wasn’t there before she came back to life.
Her nerves have her hands shaking, but that doesn’t stop her from reaching down to grip him through the heavy denim. She’s not very experienced but she knows this, and it’s only confirmed by the flutter of his eyelids. She traces the length of him, her fingernails digging in to scratch at the fabric where she knows the tip of his cock is trapped. He doesn’t buck like she expects, but the squeeze of his hands around her rib cage tells her he wants to. That he wants her.
She unbuttons and unzips him quickly, which is silly because she very much doubts he would try to stop her, but she can’t help but give into the small voice in the back of her head urging her on just in case. It’s that fear that makes her startle so badly when his hands grip her wrists to move her away, but when she looks up with a question in her eyes, he’s not looking at her. Her eyes drop again when her body sways dangerously at his forceful tug of the buttons on her shorts and she watches his large fingers almost rip apart the denim to get it open.
When he slides a hand inside the loose fabric to feel her, it’s enough to make her reach for him again to support herself, but his other hand comes up to grip her shoulder to halt the movement. Daryl’s pointer and thumb flirt with the idea of circling her neck and she wonders if he can feel her pulse thumping wildly under his touch. She considers struggling to move forward anyway, but instead relaxes and trusts he’ll keep her where she should be.
It’s the first time she sees him unravel.
Time speeds up. His hands leave her body to shove down his jeans until he can comfortably pull his hard cock from confinement. She stares even though she’s seen this before with the other boys she’s been with, but something about the way Daryl presents himself makes her gasp for breath. Her arms hang uselessly at her sides as he tugs down her shorts as far as they can go, trapping her knees in the rolled fabric. He doesn’t mind her small yelp when he lifts and turns her until her back is to his chest and she’s in his lap. The hot hard length of him slides easily through her wetness and she groans when the tip of his cock bumps deliciously against her clit. Her hands flail behind her searching for something to steady her, but instead of helping he releases his hold on her hips, dropping her further against him. Beth gasps as her lips part wide to make room for him and she wishes she could see the picture they make. Wonders if her pussy is as red and swollen as it feels, if his cock looks as good as she imagines shiny with her slick.
Daryl groans low as she wiggles against him, sliding her hips back and forth so easily she must be soaking him. She’s not sure who he’s trying to take mercy on, but his hands lift her arms up and over to grip the banister behind them.
She doesn’t need to be told twice and her fingers dig into the painted wood as she lifts her body up high enough for him to get a grip around his dick. She nearly slips when she feels the blunt head of him against her opening, definitely does slip when his hips tilt up to press in, and in one swift move he’s inside her as far as her body will take him.
“Fuck.” The word is hissed against her skin. His hands grip her hips again to lift, so he can plant his booted feet against the smooth wood of the porch and fuck up into her. Her head drops heavily against his shoulder at the feeling of him stretching her wide, “C’mon, up.”
Her hands drop to white knuckle the spindles directly behind his head and leverage herself up. She smiles hazily at his quiet that’s my girl, and turns to stifle a deep groan into the side of his neck when his right hand slips over her hip to comb through her damp curls, his middle finger swirling around her sensitive clit. Beth bounces with each savage thrust, and she can’t help but marvel at his strength for holding her in such a position for so long because she’s all but delirious with how good it feels to have him touching her, inside of her, with her.
“Wanna come, baby girl?” She sobs when his hips snap double, the slap of skin echoing dangerously through the night air. She nods frantically, afraid that if she tries to speak she just won’t stop. His hand slides down to stroke her cunt, his fingers parting where his cock impales her and he rubs the heel of his palm against her clit. Beth cries out, but he halts his movements. The sudden stillness shocks her back to reality and she opens her eyes to look at him. His face is damp with sweat, dark locks of hair sticking to his temple and cheeks, but the sight only distracts her for so long.
“Daryl—” Her jaw snaps shut when he shushes her and she blinks at him in confusion when he jumps into action, lifting her stretched shirt back up and over her bare breasts, and pulling her sore arms from their grip on the white wood behind them. He pulls her flush against him, his knees rise to cradle her body and his arms nearly engulf her when they wrap around her chest to hold her close.
The hair on the back of her neck rises at his hot breath at her ear. “Shh.”
Beth stays as still as she can, breath slowing to match his. The flutter of the curtain at the window makes her jump, her pussy clenching tight around him and she nearly bites through her lip when she feels him flex inside of her in response. Her body runs cold-hot with humiliation as she realizes how close they came to being discovered. She opens her mouth to speak.
“Rick. It was jus’ Rick.” The slurred words make her shudder and he groans quietly into her neck as her cunt squeezes him even tighter. Her face must be as red as a tomato but she can’t stop thinking about what he might have saw. Did Daryl cover and hide her in time or did Mr. Grimes stand by the window watching her get fucked by a man he considered a brother? She whimpers at the thought.
He goes very still behind her and she would be worried that she’s freaked him out if she couldn’t see the smirk spreading his lips. His arms loosen and he gently pushes her up and forward until he slips from her and she has her knees under her once more. He doesn’t stop pushing until she has to stretch her arms out in front of her to keep her face from kissing the porch. Beth feels him shift behind her, the rough denim of his jeans scratching her as he enters her again. Her arms tremble with the effort of keeping herself upright when the hard length of him breaches her again. Daryl leans over to reach for her elbows, slipping them out from under her so suddenly she pitches forward with a gasp. His bruising grip keeps her from falling too far, and his right hand slides to her wrist so he can twist and pull her arm against the small of her back. Once she understands what he means to do, Beth relaxes, arching her back. She shivers when he hums a soft sound of praise at her catching on so quick.
His grip tightens and it’s the only warning she gets before his hips draw back to thrust again. The new angle has her eyes rolling in pleasure as his hips pick up the pace, mindless of the wet slap of skin now that he knows. She whines low in her throat at the exquisite pressure building with each drag of his cock inside her.
“Hush, girl.” His voice is deep, low, mean. “Unless you want ‘em to hear you? Maybe I shoulda kept goin’. You woulda liked that, hm? Rick watchin’ your sweet little pussy get pounded by my cock.”
Her nails dig into her palm hard enough to draw blood as his words make her entire body throb with shame, but fuck does it feel good. He releases his hold on her left elbow to grip the hair at the nape of her neck.
“Go on,” He pauses to grind in deep and she chokes on her breath when she dances on the edge of pain, “Go on.”
Now that her arm is free, her fingers slip through her wet curls to rub hard circles against her swollen nub. The tightening of her cunt around him forces a strangled moan from his chest. His thrusts become erratic as her fingers fly against her slippery skin bringing her closer and closer to that peak.
Daryl pulls at her hair, forcing her up until he can press his lips into her crown. “Gonna fuckin’ come. C’mon, baby girl. Make me fuckin’ come.”
She’s not sure if it’s the filthy words or how he sounds almost drunk on her, but it’s exactly what she needs. Beth flies right over the edge, her back arched hard enough she thinks she might snap in half. Daryl releases her hair to slip his hand around her mouth, forcing his middle and ring finger between her lips to muffle her uncontrollable whimpers. She sucks mindlessly at the digits, soaring too high to give a fuck about how she can taste herself on his skin.
He releases his hold on the arm twisted behind her back and pulls out of her heat. She can feel the drag of his knuckles against her ass as he tugs his dick and the press of his forehead on her shoulder as he watches himself. She’s not sure what comes over her, but she tilts her chin up until his fingers slip out and the words are out of her mouth before she can think twice.
“I want it inside next time. I—” Beth’s voice is low and come dumb, but the words spilling out of her mouth make her blush and stutter. “I wanna feel you come inside my—inside my p-pussy.”
He grunts and she jumps at the hot wet of his come splashing on her lower back and ass. She answers with her own moan when he slides the throbbing tip of him through her ass cheeks, his last spurts tickling the sensitive skin. Her legs quiver violently and she knows the hand around her jaw is the only reason she’s still upright. Daryl must realize the same thing because his hand releases his softening cock to wrap around her waist.
They stay in that position for a few moments and she can feel the pain of sore knees and chafed thighs from her shorts that never quite made it off. When she’s sure she won’t fall over at a light breeze, she reaches down to pull up her shorts and smiles when Daryl’s fingers fall from her neck and he moves to help her right herself. She squirms uncomfortably at the sticky, wet of his come soaking into her shorts, but if she has anything to say about it, she’ll only be wearing them long enough to walk back to her house and into a shower.
Hopefully with Daryl next to her.
When he pulls away to do up his own jeans, she turns and watches him fumble with the zipper and buttons. Her lips quirk at how the confident man who fucked her silly is long gone, and in it’s place is a man whose hands shake at the idea of facing her head on. When he finally manages, she leans in for slow, lazy kiss. Whatever anxiety he had been working himself into seems to melt away and when they part he actually smiles at her.
It only widens when her breath hitches at the sight.
“What’re you lookin’ at?” She tries for a joke, but the uncertainty in her voice gives her away.
Daryl stares at her, the smile never leaving his face, “You. Never thought I’d look at you again.” His voice drops to a shy mumble, “Feels good, is all.” Yeah, she thinks, yeah it does.