Part 1
Beth isn’t entirely sure how she got here.
Here being the crowded rail, surrounded by too many sweaty bodies packed tighter than a can of sardines. She’s 10 minutes late for work because of a jam on Oakland and a few well timed movements away from coming hard enough she might collapse and brain herself on the plastic wall in front of her.
They’re where they always stand. The very end of the car, bodies turned away from the majority of the crowd and wedged safely behind the people she affectionately refers to as Sleeping While Standing Guy and Woman Whose Headphones Are Too Big. Directly behind her is Leather Jacket, the one responsible for the increased possibility of passing out, his large hand parting her legs as it covers the entirety of her cunt from behind, his wrist wide enough that it practically separates her ass cheeks. He’s currently rubbing firm, tight circles on her clit and she’s doing everything in her power not to collapse or scream or maybe both because after weeks of this, he’s learned her body better than any boyfriend she’s ever had. She thinks it must be the situation, the fact they’re in public. She doesn’t know his name, but she knows he must be observant because he always knows when to stop to keep her from orgasming, edging her in a way that’s nearly painful.
God, she wants to come so fucking bad.
His stop is coming up next, so she knows she’s going to get it soon, but she wants it now. Beth’s legs squeeze shut over his hand, resisting the urge to hump wildly against it because it’ll draw too much attention. She bares her teeth at the wall when she hears his low chuckle behind her. Without much thought, she brings up her forearm, ready to jab him in the ribs for being such an sadistic asshole, but she pauses when he speaks.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, girl.” She shivers at the gravely voice and her pussy practically throbs at the vocal stimulation. He presses hard against her clit and she whimpers, rising onto the tips of her toes at the zing of pleasure. “I ain’t got a problem leaving you just like this. That what you want?”
Beth drops her arm and shakes her head no.
Leather Jacket hums, pleased with her cooperation. She can feel him lean down, his nose dragging along her messy hair until it bumps into the tip of her ear, his hot breath blowing a few blonde strands forward until she sees them in her peripheral vision.
“You desperate, ain’t you? Bet you wouldn’t mind if I pulled my cock out, slipped right into this hot little cunt and fucked you n‘front of all these people, hm?” His fingers resume their relentless rubbing and she’s instantly back on the edge with a gasp. “Maybe I’ll give it to ya this time.”
The words have her flushing a deep red that’s a mixture of pleasure and shame. Had anyone asked Beth a few months ago if she was into anything kinky, her answer would have been a firm no. She knew she was, well, painfully vanilla. Some of her former boyfriends had made their complaints well known in that department, but if she didn’t want to do something she wasn’t about to let someone try and guilt her into it. Her Mama raised her better than that. Most people that knew her thought she was kind of a prude for never wanting something different, but she’s starting to realize that might not have been the case at all. Here she is, turned on beyond belief at being fingered by a complete stranger on a very public and very crowded train. She was practically dripping at the idea of this man alerting everyone around them to their sordid activities because she was so desperate for him to fuck her.
Looks like she wasn’t as vanilla as she thought.
Her hips jerk forward and his hand slips out from between her legs. She uses the new freedom to move her hips back, her ass pressing into the hard length trapped behind the heavy denim of his jeans. It’s quiet, nearly drowned out by the loud sounds of the running train, but she still catches his low groan at the contact. Beth grins to herself, strangely proud at earning such a reaction, but her triumph is short lived. She hears, rather than sees, the wet sucking of his fingers in his mouth and shudders in anticipation. His arm reaches around her small frame, hiking her skirt up until it hangs around his wrist and forearm. She stifles her whimper when his fingers find her again, sliding through her slick until his middle and ring finger slip inside of her.
Next stop, Peachtree Center.
Beth nearly misses the announcement, her eyes rolling when he really starts working her, rubbing relentlessly at the spongy flesh of her gspot. She’s glad for the noise of the announcement because once it dies down, she can hear the squelch of her cunt around his quick fingers. She gasps when his ministrations pause, the heel of his palm grinding hard into her swollen clit before picking up fucking her on his thick fingers. He alternates between the two with a freakish accuracy, her orgasm building fast. The train has started to slow when the tension finally snaps, her hands reaching out to scratch uselessly at the panel in front of her and her mouth hanging open in a silent scream. She holds her breath, trapping the air in her lungs to keep from making a sound.
He fucks her through it, albeit slower since her walls are practically locking him inside of her with rhythmic pulses. The train has slowed to a stop, the whoosh of doors opening and people shifting around breaking through her post-orgasmic haze. His fingers slip from her again, wiping discreetly against the soft skin on her thigh before he withdraws from her completely. Beth only has a moment to turn and catch him as he exits the train, his brown hair messy and in his face. She’s not sure if he knows she watches him leave, but like clockwork, the hand that was just buried in her rises to his face and he sucks the shiny digits into his mouth.
The doors close and he disappears from her sight. Beth turns back to the blank wall, giving herself a few moments to collect herself. She’s sure if it wasn’t so early and people weren’t so engrossed in not falling asleep or prepping for the work day, one look at her flushed face would give her away. Her eyes cut to the side to see Sleeping While Standing Guy is—thankfully—still sleeping. Beth readjusts the purse on her shoulder, her opposite hand lifting and digging into the side pocket, unnecessarily checking that the underwear she put in there this morning is still safely tucked away.
Beth is almost back to normal levels of function by the time she reaches her stop, falling back into her routine. She exits the station and heads toward the arts center, and once she’s safely inside, she ducks into the lobby bathroom to slip her underwear on underneath her skirt. She’s only worked here two months, but since starting up the naughty rail routine with Leather Jacket, her co-workers have yet to see her in slacks.
She’s not stupid. She knows this is going to end one of two ways. Either they will stop and never see each other again, or one of them will try to move this from a daily morning tryst to an actual date or at the very least, someone’s bedroom. Beth was trying to figure out how to make that move, but they had never even faced each other. Part of her wanted to say wasn’t sure if she’d be able to recognize him on the street, but the small glimpses she’d caught of him were practically seared into her brain. It made her feel beyond silly, but she found herself scanning the crowds at lunch or on her way home, hoping to see him somewhere other than a crowded rail car. What she would do if she spotted him, she wasn’t sure. Despite this all being very exciting and dangerous, she was about as brave as rabbit with a social anxiety when it came to this kind of thing. It didn’t help that she was working on a deadline. Her Daddy and Mama were driving down her truck next week and she would no longer have a need to suffer through Atlanta’s shitty public transportation system again.
Beth spent the rest of her work day thinking about it. Imagining scenarios where she would turn around, boldly look him in the eye, and ask him if he would be willing to take this somewhere a little more private so he could fuck her like he’s been promising.
Lord, even the thought of saying those words has her wanting to curl up and hide. What if he rejected her? What if he got a good look at her face and thought wow, she’s not as pretty as I thought?
She shook her head as if she were physically trying to brush away the negativity. He clearly found her attractive on some level, otherwise he would have never touched her or kept touching her. She didn’t need to be that bold, anyway. Simply asking him out for drinks would do the trick just fine, right? She nodded to herself, the plan taking root in her brain. It was decided.
Beth was going to do something.
She really, really needed to do something.
It’s been over a week, and the anticipation of her plan and it’s possible pleasurable outcome already had her worked up enough that even he had moaned at how soaked she was when he slipped his hand under her dress this morning. She had come quick and now she was trying to slow her breath, his body one long line behind her. This was something she hadn’t done before. She was leaning against him heavily enough that his arm was now comfortably wrapped around her waist, his chin digging into her bare shoulder. Beth had been startled at his prickly facial hair even though she had caught glances of it as he exited the train car each morning. She shivers as he moves his head, the stubble scratching deliciously against her skin. Leather Jacket’s thumb slides back and forth in a soothing motion at her hip, the silky fabric of her wrap dress tickling her skin.
It’s something new, but it’s nice being so close to this not-quite-stranger.
Next stop, Peachtree Center.
The announcement snaps her out of her relaxed state and she perks up. His head lifts from her shoulder and he’s already backing away from her when she finally turns to face him. The movement shocks him enough that he makes a small, confused sound, his mouth opening before snapping shut. It’s the first time she’s been able to get a good look at him and she manages to beat down her knee-jerk reaction of shying away to look her fill. She’s been surviving on side-eye glances and struggling to catch his profile when he gets off at his stop, she deserves a good long look.
He’s taller than her and broad, even underneath all the ridiculous layers. It’s no wonder he never worried about prying eyes. He’s certainly built wide enough that he could keep her safely tucked away as he practically fucked her in public. The thought has her blushing and squeezing her legs closed, a reaction she’s had plenty of times before at her desk or in her shower, but never right before the star and creator of said fantasy. Beth feels that familiar satisfaction when she notices his eyes are drawn to the movement, his tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip in a practiced way she can tell is a lifelong habit. She takes in the rest of him, black jeans and shiny black boots. He looks like your typical rough around the edges bad boy, but also strangely well-kept, as if the look is exactly that—a look. Her eyes finish their exploration and she smiles at him nervously, her shaking hands rising to tuck the hair behind her ears.
“Um, hi—” Beth manages to get the greeting out before the train slows to a stop. She must have really floored him by trying to speak because he tumbles into her at the change of momentum. Her hands come up to press into his chest, fingers flexing and squeaking against the leather of his jacket. She’s never felt him like his before, not with her own hands. She curls her fingers into loose fists to keep herself from desperately molesting him. Technically, she would only be returning the favor he’s been paying her all these weeks, but the crowd is already shifting, people readying to get off.
Her heart pounds as the doors open and she catches his eye, opening her mouth again.
“Um, I wanted to—” The words get stuck in her throat, her nerves getting the best of her when she sees the frown on his face as he watches her speak to him. Dread curls in her stomach that she’s made a huge mistake by trying to change this to something more.
Beth sucks in a breath to continue speaking, but she’s interrupted by the shrill scream of a woman on the platform. Both of their heads snap to the door to see a young man pushing through the crowd, a purse on his arm.
“Help! He took my bag!” The poor woman is still screaming when Beth hears the telltale ding of the doors preparing to close.
She was out of time.
Leather Jacket cusses under his breath when the doors start to close. “Shit, I need to—”
Beth watches helplessly as he shoulders through the remaining passengers, arm stretching out to catch the closing doors so the safety mechanism can jar them back open again. He doesn’t even look back as he steps onto the platform and disappears from sight.
Humiliation colors her cheeks and when the train starts moving again. She’s suddenly very glad she now has her truck and will never have to step foot on this thing again.
“Attention all units, we have a 10-70 in College Park.”
Rick Grimes sighs heavily. Jesus Christ, that asshole was at it again. He could have sworn Abe had picked up that peeping tom earlier this week. He grabs his dashboard walkie. “10-98. This is unit 15, we’re in College Park. 10-43?”
“Unit 15; call came from a female in 401 Kennedy Drive, 1A. Please be advised that the suspect is a tall white male with brown hair wearing black jeans and a black leather jacket. Says she saw him through her bedroom window.”
“Copy.” Rick turns the wheel to make a U-turn back toward the street the just passed. He moves to set the walkie down, but pauses when it crackles back to life.
“Grimes, ain’t you too special to respond to a simple 10-70 now? ‘Sides, I know your old lady is expectin’ you home in a hot minute.” He laughs at Abe’s mocking tone, surprised he is still alert enough to laugh at the joke. It’s been a long shift, and he’s more than happy it’s over, but they’re simply too close to the location to let another unit take it. If it’s who he thinks it is, the guy moves fast.
He doesn’t bother to stifle his laughter when his partner snatches the walkie out of his hand with a smirk. “Dispatch, please advise Unit 43 that Detective Grimes is too busy doin’ Officer Ford’s job to respond.”
They can hear Michonne’s giggle when the radio crackles again. “Copy, Unit 15.”
Beth feels like an idiot. It’s 11:45 pm on a Saturday night and she’s standing in her living room wielding an axe while wearing a nightie that barely covers her ass. She’d been having some alone time with her favorite adult video and vibrator when she swears she caught a face watching her through the window. Fortunately, she had been under the covers so the man couldn’t have seen much. Unfortunately, she had been under the covers so when she screamed bloody murder and moved to pick up the axe her Daddy insisted she keep by her bed, she nearly impaled herself on the damn thing in her haste to get a weapon in her hands.
She had immediately grabbed her phone in the non-axe wielding hand and ran for the livingroom to call the police. The dispatcher on the line managed to calm her down enough that she remembered there was no way for the guy to get in since all windows and doors were locked. Beth thanked her and hung up, waiting for the Officers the dispatcher promised were around the corner.
Three firm knocks startle her enough that she jumps in the air.
“Atlanta PD.” The warm drawl of the Officer on the other side of the door soothed her nerves.
They really must have been just around the corner.
“One sec!” Beth steps forward before halting and turning to go in another direction. She doesn’t get far before she stops again, turning back toward the door. Lord, she needed to get her shit together. She stops and closes her eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. When her eyes open again, she’s a little less scatterbrained and walks toward her door. She puts the axe in her umbrella stand and wakes up her phone, opening the notepad app. Once it’s ready, she swipes the hair out of her face before rising up on her toes to peer into the peephole.
“Can you, um.” She watches the man raise and tilt his head at the sound of her voice through the door. “Can you put your badge up so I can see?”
Beth watches as the Officer tries to hide a smile through pursed lips, eyes downcast as if he knows she’s watching and doesn’t want his amusement to offend her. She sees a blurry figure behind him shift and then a muffled voice. While she can’t make out what the other man says, she can tell he’s annoyed.
“Yes, ma’am.” He grabs the badge hanging around his neck and holds it up to the glass. Beth quickly types down his name and badge number. The Officer—Detective, she corrects herself— jabs his partner with an elbow before grabbing his badge from his hands and switching it out with his.
Once she’s got the information she needs, she starts to unlock her door. She grunts with the effort it takes to slide back the bolt, reminding herself for the hundredth time she really needed to put some WD-40 on the damn thing. Beth swings the door open and it’s the light breeze, not the raised eyebrows of Detective Grimes, that reminds her she’s wearing a nightie that barely covers her ass. She squeaks and closes the door in his shocked face, grabbing her raincoat from the coat hanger on her right. She swings the long garment on and timidly opens the door again, stepping with it so there’s a clear walk-way for the Detectives.
“I’m so sorry. I forgot that I wasn’t…um, decent.” Beth stammers out the apology, hoping her face isn’t as red as it feels. The embarrassing situation is only amplified when she remembers the fact she had been enjoying a video that started in a very similar matter not even 5 minutes ago. She swallows hard, praying her inappropriate thoughts aren’t written all over her face and that she remembered to close out of the porn site on her phone.
This is turning out to be a spectacularly awful night.
In the light of her hallway, she sees that Detective Grimes is actually incredibly handsome, even if the salt and pepper of his stubble and under eye bags allude to his fatigue. That honey-sweet voice she heard outside absolutely matches the blue-eyed man before her.
“It’s no problem, Miss.” Detective Grimes smiles at her kindly, stepping forward so his partner can follow. “I’m Detective Rick Grimes and this here is my partner, Detective Daryl Dixon.”
Beth is looking down when he makes the introduction, focused on tying the belt of her coat around her waist. She’s already painted a smile on her face, hand reaching out for a shake when she lifts her head to greet the two, “Beth Gre—”
Her name catches in her throat when her eyes swing from Detective Grimes to the horrified face of his partner. She’s staring. She knows she’s staring and she probably looks dumb as hell, but holy fucking shit, the man who had been bringing her to orgasm for nearly two months is standing in her apartment! The man she’s been calling Leather Jacket is named Daryl Dixon. The man that was fingerfucking her in public, which is extremely illegal, is a goddamn Detective for Atlanta’s finest.
The same thoughts seem to be flitting across his mind because his horror mounts to an almost comical level before his face smooths out to an eerily blank expression. Detective Grimes pivots to look between his partner and the blonde, eyes narrowing like…well, like a Detective that just detected something weird is happening. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to ask a very damning question when Beth pipes up.
“Beth Greene!” The two men twitch back at her outburst. She lets out a positively crazed giggle and silently prays for Jesus to forgive her public sinning so he can come down and take her the hell away from this situation. “Gosh, sorry, I’m a little… This whole thing has me a bit nervous.”
Detective Grimes nods, that bemused expression back on his face. “Right. Would you like to sit down and tell us what happened?”
Beth waits a beat too long, eyes caught on Detective Dixon—Daryl? She’s earned the right to call him by his first name, hasn’t she?—before nodding and turning heel to lead them into her living room.
This was going to be a long night.
Part 2
Daryl was fucked. He was so completely and utterly fucked, there had never existed a man more fucking fucked than him. When Beth turns to lead them into her living room, what he already knows is confirmed. The familiar wavy blonde hair that he buried his face in for weeks has his brain slowing down and his dick filling like a fucking Pavlovian response. He wants to say he wonders how he got here, but he knows exactly how he got here and it’s one hundred and ten percent his fault.
Goddamn, she smelled good.
That’s what Daryl remembers thinking the first time he stood behind her on the train. It jumped out at him because if he were to turn his head to catch a whiff of the rest of the rail car, it would be bad enough to have him gagging. Atlanta heat, packed bodies, and a broken AC did not exactly inspire words like fresh or sweet. But the cute little blonde in front of him? Fuck, she practically had his mouth watering.
He might have still been a little drunk from the previous night’s celebrations. It’s the closest thing he has to a flimsy excuse for his actions that morning.
They were as far back in the car as they could be. She had been here when he got on. Daryl had shouldered his way through the crowd to the spot he had claimed as his for the short two weeks he would have to suffer the shithole that was MARTA while his car was in the shop. He nearly stopped dead at the sight of a short blonde woman with her back to him, standing in his spot. A frown twisted his features but it was too early for anyone to really care enough to fear him, so after a few beats he made his way over. Daryl could stand wherever the fuck he wanted, tiny blonde girls be-fucking-damned.
It would take him a bit to realize what a mistake that had been.
She turned her head to side eye him when she felt the added heat of his body a few inches from hers, but instead of glaring or rolling her eyes at his annoyed expression, she threw him a quick, shy smile before turning back around. Daryl swallowed, the instant attraction taking him by surprise. He was a pretty intimidating guy, but he wasn’t physical, at least not overtly so and especially not when it came to sex. Not like his father had been or Merle was. His eyes fell to take in the rest of her, from her bare shoulders to the thin, muscular legs that seemed longer than they should in her flowy knee length skirt and strappy heels. He felt his cock twitch in his pants when his brain ran away from him and he imagined she would be light enough to lift and press against the hard plastic of the train car. Was she wearing panties or would all he have to do is unzip and hike up her skirt? Daryl resisted the urge to cuss out loud and frowned, a flush creeping up his neck.
Christ, was this what his brother felt like any time a moderately good-looking woman crossed his path? What a fucking nightmare.
He missed the announcement of the first stop, so he was unprepared for the slowing of the train, his body tumbling forward and into the smaller figure in front of him. His hand reached up and out to catch his weight on the wall, but she was already trapped against him. The bodies in the train took that moment to further compress them as everyone shifted around to let out those that needed to leave. Daryl’s blush deepened at the ridiculous situation he had, of fucking course, managed to place himself in.
“M’sorry.” His mouth was close enough to her ear that he figured the mumbled apology would be heard. What he didn’t expect was the full-body shiver in response. The woman shifted, unknowingly moving her ass against his growing hard on with enough pressure that his eyes nearly fluttered shut.
She either heard his hitched breath or felt his cock poking her because she froze underneath him. Hot-cold humiliation zinged through his body, waiting for her to scream at him to get the fuck off her because he was being completely inappropriate and creepy. Wouldn’t that be a fucking kicker if Espinoza from sex crimes was called to arrest his stupid ass? Daryl cleared his throat and pushed off the wall to step back as far as the crowd would allow, which was admittedly not enough. Now that he wasn’t so close, he could see the pretty pink flush on the back of her neck. His eyes drank in the side of her face as she turned her head to speak to him.
“S’alright.” Her voice was as soft and sweet as she looked. His tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip. She probably tasted as sweet, too.
Shit, he really needed to stop drinking on work-nights.
Daryl took the out for what it was and stayed quiet behind her despite his rampant thoughts. He tried not to, but he practically bore a hole into her skull with his stare and if her tense shoulders were anything to judge by, she felt his eyes on her. They made it to the next stop and he paid close enough attention that he didn’t slam into her again. He watched her freeze as if bracing for another impact, but when none came her shoulders dropped. Hopefully she understood that first time was a mistake and he wasn’t some freak who rubbed his dick on strange women on trains. Part of him wanted to show her his badge to maybe reassure her, but somehow that seemed like it would make things infinitely more fucking weird.
Rick had made it more than clear he had zero game, much to Daryl’s eternal embarrassment. The first time it came up, he nearly defended himself and admitted he had never needed to talk to any of the cheap women he fucked, but he was smart enough to know that made him sound exactly like the nasty, backwoods redneck he was before moving to Atlanta. His partner was “nice” enough to give him the basics of talking to women since his big brother had clearly failed him, and even though he had wanted nothing less, he was suddenly grateful he’d sat there and listened in angry silence instead of shutting him down. He stood there trying to think up a way to talk to her like a normal person when it happened.
The train started to take off again and he’s positive he saw the girl relax into the jerk of the rail car, her body tilting back until she was flush against him once more. His arm instinctively wrapped around her waist to stop her from sending them both reeling backwards. Pressed so close together, Daryl felt each breath she took, his large hand splayed across her lower stomach. He marveled at how he almost covered the entire width of her waist with just his hand. He tilted his head down, partially to peer over her shoulder and partially to get closer to her ear.
“You good, girl?” He felt her tremble underneath him and instead of answering she simply nodded. The train was back at a steady speed, but she made no move to step away again. Instead she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, rubbing her ass against his crotch again. She had to have felt the hard length of him through the thin material of her skirt this time. His fingers flexed against her stomach, the fabric of her skirt riding up as it got caught in the curl of his pinky.
That was about when Daryl got a really fucking stupid idea.
He glanced around, realizing that with the sleeping guy and big headphones girl blocking them, they were pretty well hidden. His heart pounded in his chest because, fuck, he knew it was a bad fucking idea. It’s not only illegal in the public indecency sense, but she hadn’t given him any sort of consent other than maybe rubbing against him. Possibly on purpose.
He was a fucking cop, for fuck’s sake. He knew acting on any of the bad ideas he was thinking would get his ass arrested. Doing this would even get her arrested if she admitted she was an equal participant if they got caught… but only if they got caught.
Fuck it.
His hand inched lower, fingers shifting and curling to gather her skirt up until he could feel the bare skin of her thigh, listening intensely for any sign of protest or discomfort. When he heard none, he took one last quick look around before resting his fingers at the top of her panties. Fingers pressed into the cotton, sliding down until he had to bite back a groan when he hit wet fabric. His hand cupped her before drawing back up, his fingers slipping beneath her underwear until he could slip a finger between her bare lips. Blondie’s head tilted back at his touch, pressing into his shoulder hard enough that her smooth hair started to tangle in the buttons of his jacket. He kept going until he could gather her slick on his fingers at her entrance, almost drenching his entire hand.
Daryl felt the drag of elastic and cotton on his wrist when he drew his hand back up, the pads of his fingers searching for the swollen bump of flesh he ignored on his initial descent. She jerked hard against him when he found what he was looking for, his pointer finger pulling back the hood of her clit to expose the sensitive flesh to the tap of his middle finger. Each light tap had her jolting, and a sudden rush of power washed over him. This girl was completely at his mercy, but she didn’t seem to give a single fuck. The clumsy and obvious invitation she extended by rubbing herself on him like a cat in heat had him hoping this was as much of a new experience for her as it was for him. She wasn’t exactly virginal, but she was inexperienced in picking up men. Maybe almost as inexperienced as him at picking up women.
“Spread your legs for me, girl.” He wasn’t sure where the fuck that came from, but it must have worked for her because he’s sure if they had the space she would have been doing a fucking split with how fast her knees spread. Her eagerness made him grin and once he had the space he started really teasing her, rubbing her entire cunt every few moments to keep his fingers wet and gliding. Daryl let himself get lost in the feel of the silky warmth, let himself enjoy every inch of her because something in her reactions told him it had been a long fucking while since someone had done something just for her pleasure. His focus was broken when he heard the announcement of his stop and he cussed under his breath.
Daryl’s hand lowered once more, but instead of simply teasing, his thick fingers finally sank into her. He bit back a moan at the tight fit, head dropping until her messy hair tickled the sweaty skin of his forehead. The tips of his fingers brushed against something that had her gasping out a whispered fuck, and Daryl moved his free hand to steady her hip when her knees nearly gave out. He found it again, pumped his fingers in and out until even he could hear how wet she was. He was desperate to relieve some of the mounting pressure in his cock, but he was the one the rest of the train could see, not the writhing woman plastered to this front. The restriction should have made him crazy, maybe even a little pissed off that she was clearly having a great time while he suffered behind her in his own denim-encased hell.
Instead, he found himself a hairsbreadth away from coming in his pants like he was thirteen and this was the first wet pussy he’d ever gotten a hand on.
Blondie was practically a ball of tension in his arms, growing more and more still. For a moment he thought she’d stopped enjoying herself, but when he glanced down to see the deep red flush on her chest and shoulders, he realized her sudden stillness was a fucking tell. She was close. Daryl sucked in a harsh breath when his dick throbbed at the thought, his left arm wrapping around her waist to join the right. His fingers slipped out of her and he smirked at the sweet little whimper she let out. She didn’t have to wait long to have his hands on her again, his left hand slipping into her panties to press apart her lips in what he was sure must look obscene. When he pulled her skin taut, exposing her clit to the humid air of the train, she keened and tried to close her legs at the sensation.
Daryl made a displeased sound in the back of his throat. “If you want it, y’gotta keep ‘em spread.”
Her legs clenched tighter, hips swiveling as if searching for friction before she relaxed in his arms. The train started to slow. His free hand lifted until it stretched the cotton of her underwear enough that even he could see the pretty pink and yellow design when he looked over her shoulder.
“Don’t scream, darlin’.” It’s the only warning he gave her before his hand came down in a hard slap on her clit before rubbing hard and fast. The screeching brakes of the train covered the wet smack and her small yelp, but she still pitched forward, her nails digging into his forearms as she came apart, trying to do as she was told and not scream. Her body was shaking hard enough that both of his hands retreated from the warmth between her legs to hold her trembling limbs out of anyone’s line of sight.
Daryl moved forward until she could support herself on the wall in front of them and attempted to fix her skirt as best as he could. When the doors finally opened, he paused before leaning over to press a kiss to the back of her head. He had just had his fingers inside of her, but the gesture made him flustered as if it were somehow more intimate than what they’d just done.
With no time to waste, Daryl moved fast, slipping through the doors before they closed. He managed to make it as far as a the nearest public restroom before he was leaning against a grimy wall with his dick in his hand and his fingers in his mouth, imagining how good it would feel if he had really lost his fucking mind and dragged her in here with him. The moment he pictured her cute little knees digging into the hard tile and her mouth stretched wide around his cock, he painted the dirty blue wall with white, balls drawn up tight and face contorted in a silent scream because he’d never come so fucking hard in his life. He nearly brought the entire stall down when his knees buckled and he scrambled to keep himself from hitting the disgusting floor or his own mess. He didn’t have a change of clothes and he wasn’t about to try and explain white stains away to his co-workers. Their line of work tended to draw some seriously nosy people.
Daryl snuck into the precinct a few minutes later, sunglasses on his face despite it being overcast, and when everyone started busting his chops for being late from a hangover, he let them.
When they continued their little morning routine over the next few weeks only for her to suddenly stop showing up, he thought that would be it. Daryl had tortured himself enough with the thought that maybe she got weirded out by him when she attempted to speak to him and thought nope, this guy ain’t worth pursuing. It stung, getting on the train the next few mornings and seeing that their space was back to being only his. On the bright side, he was able to start driving his car again.
Besides, it could have only gone one of two ways and she had clearly made a choice. It was fine. He would have a great story to traumatize some unsuspecting youth when he was old and dying in a hospital somewhere. Fantastic.
Instead, Daryl is standing in blon—Beth’s apartment answering a fucking 911 call when she got freaked out by a creepy man. He might only have a high school degree, but the irony of the situation is not lost on him. He stays standing when Rick takes a seat on her couch and she takes the armchair, internally cringing when his partner’s eyes laser in on him.
“Uh, Detective Dixon, you wanna check her windows and doors for any signs of an intruder?” He’s sure Rick sounds pleasant enough to Beth, but he hears the unspoken I’m saving you from yourself, Dixon. Go be weird somewhere else. loud and clear.
He nods and when he turns to walk out of the room, he sees Beth’s wide eyes on him as if she’s convinced she’s having some sort of hallucination. Daryl feels his ears burn at the attention. He flees the room, walking through her apartment to actually do the job he came here to do. He’s halfway through the second door before he realizes he’s about to enter her bedroom and freezes, foot hanging mid-air.
This is fucking ridiculous.
Daryl rolls his eyes at himself and takes the step, eyes sweeping the room to catalog more than he probably should, but bedrooms are the quickest way to learn a person and all he knew about Beth was that she liked having orgasms and wore pretty clothes. His steps are quieted by the large rug she has spread out as he checks out her windows. They’re all locked, but when he opens to check the outside, he frowns at the familiar scratch marks they’ve noticed on the windows of a few women in this neighborhood.
He takes note of everything he finds and if his notes are a little too detailed, it’s because he’s a good detective and there is absolutely no other reason he would be invested in this particular case. The words are on a loop in his brain as he writes, hoping they’ll actually become true when Rick inevitably asks him how the fuck he knows Beth. Which wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for the fact that his partner is his best friend—basically a brother—and he tells the man everything.
Everything.
Rick may seem like the poster boy of all that is good and wholesome, but after staying with the Grimes while he was waiting to move into a new place and Rick’ children were staying with his ex, well, he heard things. Things they don’t talk about. It’s the only way he’s able to look Michonne in the eye at work. So, he didn’t really blink at telling him about the cute blonde on the train. Rick had actually choked on his coffee the morning Daryl came in with a wicked look on his face and explained Blondie had started showing up without her fucking underwear. When it ended and it was clear Daryl was a tiny bit crushed, all his partner did was take him out for a couple of beers (that turned into way too many beers) and didn’t even complain when he had to haul him home like the loser he was.
Yeah, Rick was a good guy with a freaky side, but he was also a great Detective and Daryl
wasn’t sure he wanted him to know that Beth was The Blonde. How he was going to manage to keep this from him, he had no fucking clue. Jesus, the idea of even being back in the same room with her is making him want to run away to never return. It’s also making him want to throw his partner out on his ass so he could take her to bed—or the couch or the floor or the goddamn wall —and show her he’s worth giving a second chance.
Daryl’s hand pauses in his note taking to pinch the bridge of his nose. He’s giving himself a migraine.
The unexpected stress of the situation at the end of a very long shift must have him out of sorts because it takes him a minute before he actually looks at her bed. The comforter is thrown back and the sheets are rumpled, hinting that she must have been under them. He walks over to the side she sleeps on, head tilting at a quiet unfamiliar sound. His eyes briefly cut to the T.V. but it’s off and the remote is sitting neatly next to it, which means it wasn’t on when she was in bed.
His frown deepens and before he can be horrified at his own actions, he begins to smooth out her comforter, the quiet hum switching to a loud hum when it’s uncovered. Daryl drops the bedding like it’s on fire and stares at the smooth vibrator buzzing away against the yellow and white flowers on her comforter. Jesus Mother Fucking Christ. His brain slowly reboots after crashing at the sudden loss of blood, and he swallows hard to wet his suddenly parched throat. When Daryl is finished standing around staring at her sex toy with a hard on like a fucking asshole, he starts to piece together what happened and he gets mad.
The prowler wasn’t just watching Beth sleep. That piece of trash was watching his girl get off.
His jaw twitches when he clenches his teeth, rage flaring deep in his belly. He doesn’t even bother evaluating the new possessives he’s applying to a woman he technically only met tonight because that’s a dangerous road and he’s not exactly in a charitable mood. The clip on his radio nearly snaps when he snatches it from his waist fast enough that his elbow twinges at the rapid movement. Daryl reaches forward, turning off the vibrator and tucking it gently under her pillow while he puts out an APB on the man Ford picked up last week, knowing the fucker was released this morning on a bullshit technicality. When he turns to leave the room, his gait is decidedly heavier as he stomps down the hallway and back into the livingroom.
Rick is already standing, his radio to his ear as the ABP is put out.
“Ain’t that Ford’s perp? You like him for this? What did you find?” Daryl calms, knowing that the rapid fire questions are merely a confirmation. Rick trusts his judgement enough not to call him out on such a quick response, and he only feels a little guilt at his overreaction. He might be extra pissed considering it’s Beth, but they really were looking for someone who could finally point the piece of shit out in a line-up and this might be their chance.
“Scratches on her window-sill. They look exactly the same as the others. She’s young, cute, single —uh, she’s his type, I mean.” Daryl’s ears burn again as he stumbles over the words, not knowing if it would be worse to try and gauge her reaction or deal with the amusement on his partner’s face. “Of victim. She’s his type of victim.”
Beth stands from her seat, drawing the attention away from Daryl’s verbal disaster. Her fists are clenched at her side and the way they go very still tells him she’s stopping herself from gripping her coat tighter to hide. His rage flares up again when he realizes she’s attempting to mask her fear. It almost works since her voice is strong and clear when she speaks up. “Is he gonna stay away or do I need to pull my gun outta the safe?”
Rick throws him an unimpressed look. He dislikes referring to victims as victims in front of them.
A generally good practice, but he’s never really had much tact so he simply stares back. “We’ll have some Officers out front tonight until we get a confirmation he’s been picked up. I wouldn’t be too worried, Miss Greene.”
His phone rings and he smiles warmly at Beth before picking up and walking into the hallway. Daryl nearly follows him like a duckling, but they’re already alone and following someone who’s on a phone call would definitely say I am avoiding you, so he stays put. His hand rises to his mouth, nail nearly between his teeth when he catches Beth watching him. Watching his hand. His arm drops fast enough that she startles and looks up at his face.
“Hi.” The shy woman from that first day on the train is back and his eyes trace the plains of her face. His anxiety has him hyper focused and he finds himself counting her teeth when she chances a smile at him. He knows he should respond. Rick’s call is winding down and this could be his chance to say something to set them back on whatever track they were on before. This is the perfect opening.
“I turned off your thing—uh, sex toy. It’s under your pillow.”
Daryl immediately has a very serious moment where he considers taking out his gun and putting it in his stupid, useless mouth.
Beth frowns in confusion before she gets it, jaw dropping and eyes wide at his audacity. A small squeak comes out of her and he thinks she’s trying to say something, so he watches her flounder for a long uncomfortable moment. When she can’t seem to get it out, his mouth opens again.
“I didn’t—figured you wouldn’t want jus’ anyone to see.” He can’t stand the strange look she’s giving him, so his eyes slide away and to the side. “Figured it’s best kept private.”
His eyes are still trying to be anywhere but on her, so he only hears her soft footsteps as she moves closer. Hell, even if he had been deaf and blind he would have probably felt her come near with the way his nerves practically light up underneath his skin. It gets worse when she reaches out to grip his elbow for a squeeze and even though it can’t be possible, he swears he feels her through the leather of his jacket.
“Daryl.” His head snaps up at the sound of his name on her lips. How many times had he fantasized about the shape her mouth would make saying his name? The way it would sound? His heart thumps in his chest and he wonders if he’s about to fucking stroke out over her simply saying his name. “Thank you. I really hoped we—”
“Two Officers should be here in…” Rick trails off, eyes darting between the two and their intimate position. He clears his throat when neither of them move and licks his lips before biting the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh at whatever expression is on Daryl’s face. “They should be here in about ten minutes, Miss Greene.”
Beth’s hand gives his arm another squeeze before dropping. He doesn’t make a single movement and he’s sure his face is relatively blank, but Rick’s mouth curves in a wicked grin as if he just saw something he wasn’t supposed to see. “Well, I’m actually at the end of my shift, Miss Greene, but I’m sure Detective Dixon would be more than happy to stay until our guys get here. We haven’t gotten a confirmation the prowler has been picked up and I’d rather we play it safe, if that’s alright with you ma’am?”
“Would y’all mind? I’m still a little hesitant to be alone if I’m bein’ honest.” Beth glances at him and must notice the fierce look he’s throwing Rick because she fumbles. “Um, but I’m sure I’m just bein’ silly and I’d hate to keep, um, Detective Dixon workin’ longer .”
“I ain’t got a problem stayin’.” Daryl’s face softens as he releases Rick’s eyes to look at Beth. “If that’s what you want?”
They stare at each other and he thinks he might have to leave after all, just to save himself when
Beth bites her lip and nods. “Yeah, that’s what I want.”
The confirmation is a little too breathy to be strictly about protection detail judging by his partner’s poorly covered snort, but he can’t find it in him to give a shit when Beth catches his eye again and smiles.
Part 3
Beth tries not to look too eager as she stands at her door, she does, but she’s about two seconds from shoving the very nice Detective Grimes out of her apartment if he doesn’t pick up the damn pace. Once it was established that there wasn’t much more they could do, the detective seemed more than willing to leave her in the capable hands of his partner and get home. She imagined he had someone waiting for him. If her Mama was here, she’d say men like Rick Grimes always have someone to go home to.
He passes her with a polite grin, finally stepping back out into the warm night. She’s so keyed up, she nearly jumps a mile in the air when he turns back around and leans a bit to the side to look around her. His face stretches with a wide, innocent smile when he spots Daryl lurking a few feet behind her.
“I’ll be sure to clock you out, Dixon.” Beth turns to look back at Daryl, but he does nothing but narrow his eyes at his partner.
“You do that, Grimes.”
“I’ll shoot you a text when they’re outside. Let me know when you get home.” Detective Grimes shifts and glances to the side, the fine lines around his eyes crinkling and tongue darting out to wet his lips. Despite his best efforts, a small huff of laughter escapes when he mumbles, “Whenever that is.”
Beth’s head snaps back to the front door, face slack in shock. Did he just—
“They tend to drag their feet when they know they’re comin’ in for an overnight and someone’s already here, ma’am. So, Detective Dixon might be here longer than the 10 minutes I initially promised. Don’t you worry about him, I’m sure he’ll keep himself busy. You’re in good hands, Miss Greene.”
The words are aimed at Beth but he doesn’t even look at her, instead focusing on Daryl. She has a very strong feeling that he’s saying one thing to her and an entirely different thing to his partner.
She straightens up when a dangerous thought occurs to her. Oh god, just how close are they? Close enough that Daryl wouldn’t think twice about sharing his sexcapades on his morning train rides? That’s the kind of thing guys share, isn’t it? Beth feels blood start to rush to her face. Even if he knows, there’s no way he would know the girl on the train is her. They hadn’t been alone since coming into her apartment, so she knows Daryl hasn’t gotten the chance to say anything in private to the other man. He can’t know, right?
Right.
Daryl’s boots are surprisingly quiet as he moves forward, his hand gripping the door a few inches above her head. Beth steps out from under his arm and drops her hand when he starts to close it.
“Tell Michonne I said hi.” The words are pushed out through gritted teeth. “Oh, I’ll tell her—” Slam.
+++
They’re back in the livingroom. Sorta.
The minute the door was closed, Beth turned heel and scurried back into the familiar space. Based on their interactions tonight, she didn’t want to be stuck staring awkwardly at one another for hours in the tiny hallway when they can at least do it sitting. Daryl followed her, but stayed hovering a few feet away in the doorway like he was afraid to enter the room. She stands in the middle of the living room, unsure of how to proceed.
She points a thumb in the direction of her kitchen. “Do you want somethin’ to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“Somethin’ to eat, maybe?”
He shakes his head. When he doesn’t elaborate, she turns in the other direction to wave toward the couch. “Um, wanna sit down?
“I’m alright standin’.” Jesus Christ.
Beth nods and scratches at her thigh, unsure of how to proceed. She doesn’t think he’s being purposefully difficult, but she isn’t sure what else to think since this was not what she had imagined their first interaction alone would be like. Daryl had never been so shy with her—in fact, it had always been the exact opposite. A flash of heat starts low in her belly, his behavior on the train so crystal clear she wonders if her face is turning red. How is this the same man that was lifting her skirts and feeling between her legs like she was his to play with? What could have changed him so drastically? What could have made him so— Oh.
Something must look very wrong with her face because Daryl looks at her with concern. “You alright?”
“You were goin’ after that kid.” His worried look remains, but she sees no recognition in his eyes. She elaborates. “The kid that snatched that lady’s purse at Peachtree Center. That’s why you left so quick. I thought you, I mean, I thought when I tried to talk to you that you—”
“You thought I just ran away from you?” Daryl asks in an incredulous tone. When she nods, he continues. “That why you stopped takin’ the train?”
Beth nods again, pulling on the hem of her raincoat in embarrassment. Now that the words have been said out loud she sees how that might have been a cowardly move on her part. “Well, that and I finally got my truck from home. Lord, I feel so stupid. I’m sorry, Daryl.”
His head dips, acknowledging her apology and she feels a little better when she sees the corner of his mouth lift in a small smile. The tension in his shoulders seems to ease and Beth wonders what he’s been thinking in the week and a half since they last saw each other. She imagines what it must have been like, getting on the train every day to nothing. Beth simply vanished. Yes, the way he ran out of the rail car like a bat out of hell had certainly looked bad, but she hadn’t even tried a second time. What if he had done that to her?
“I probably shoulda said somethin’.” Daryl’s voice is clearer, a bit of confidence returning and she’s glad to see it. He shrugs and digs his hands into his pockets, a blush gracing his cheeks. “So, m’sorry, too.”
They stand in silence again, but it’s decidedly lighter than before now that it’s become clear the
Monday morning incident was nothing but a huge miscommunication. She watches him openly. He looks huge and intimidating in her tiny apartment, dressed in his usual dark clothing and the gold of a badge on his hip, but the way he holds himself makes her pause. For a guy that’s given her some of the most intense sexual experiences of her life, she would think he would take this opportunity to flirt or even hook up, but this? Hands buried in his pockets, the light flush on his face, and the timid way he’s admiring her?
It’s definitely unexpected. But she can work with unexpected.
“So…” Beth tucks her hair behind her ears and crosses her arms. “You’re a cop.”
“Yeah.”
“A cop that touches women on public transportation.” She means it as a joke, but the horrified look that graces Daryl’s features has the smile sliding off her face.
“I— No, I never— This ain’t like—”
“Hey, relax. I was just teasin’. It was a bad joke, especially since I’m the one that let you…” She lets the sentence hang in the air, watching his shoulders lift as if ready to defend himself against a physical blow. Too soon to joke about that, Beth thinks, duly noted. She scrambles to dislodge the foot she’s planted firmly in her mouth. “So, you ain’t ever done anythin’ like that before? Um, like, in public?”
Daryl shakes his head. “You?”
“No.” She uncrosses her arms to grab the ends of the belt of her coat, thinking how strange it is they’re having this conversation while she’s wearing a raincoat in her livingroom. She laughs to herself at the absurdity and lets the tan fabric slip through her hands. “Never done anythin’ like that. I guess never really wanted to before? ”
He tilts his head as he assesses her and he’s quiet for a good while before, “And did you want it, Beth?”
The question is bold and when she lifts her head to meet his eyes, he doesn’t shy away. It takes her a moment to realize it’s the first time he’s said her name and she feels intoxicated by the sound; thinks she wouldn’t mind if he said it a few more times with a lot less clothes. Beth can’t immediately respond and she wonders if this is one of those heated looks all those trashy romance novels talk about. It makes her aware of just how little she’s wearing. The want that’s been a low hum in the back of her mind rips through her when his eyes drop to her bare legs, trailing up the length of her body and back to her face. She shifts and her breath hitches at how wet she is. God, she’s hopes her face isn’t as red as it feels.
“I did. Want it, I mean.” She almost wants to look away, but she’s afraid to break the moment, afraid he’ll spook if she doesn’t do this exactly right and there is no way she’s letting him run out on her again. If there was ever a time for her to be forward, this is it. Beth walks toward him, hands shaking as she unties the belt of her coat. Her previous hopes of her face not being as red as a tomato fly out the window because she’s never done anything like this. She silently prays she’s reading this situation right because she’ll melt into the floor and die if she’s wrong.
“I still want it.”
Beth stops an arm’s length away, her coat loose and hanging open. She grips the fabric and lets out a shuddered breath, her nerves getting the best of her. For the millionth time in her life, Beth finds herself wishing she were as bold as her sister. Maggie’s never had a problem with men. Her sister has always been effortlessly sexy where Beth was always cute. It didn’t help that Beth doesn’t have a particularly amazing body. She’s thin, and she’s been told on more than one occasion she’s lacking in the breast and ass department. She doesn’t want Daryl to think she is just cute. Well, she has, but not right this moment.
“Let me see.”
She’s jolted out of her thoughts at the quiet command. “What?”
“Y’heard me.” Daryl glances down at the tight hold she has on her coat, waiting for her to take it off. Her anxiety dies down, fingers tingling as they relax their white knuckle grip.
Beth’s always been good at following his lead, so she doesn’t dwell on the strange relief she feels at his words. Goosebumps break out across her skin as the coat parts and falls, hitting the floor with a soft rustle of fabric. She’s still wearing her nightdress, but she might as well be stark naked with the way his eyes drink her in.
She closes the distance between them and wonders if she’s going to have to initiate this too. Her hands slide onto his shoulders for leverage, but before she can do much else, Daryl’s head dips and he’s pressing his mouth to hers.
It’s their first kiss. Considering what they’ve done, Beth expects it to be messy or rough or anything but what it is. It’s sweet. It’s painfully sweet. It makes her lightheaded, how she wanted him before yet one chaste kiss has her feeling like she might fall apart with how much she needs him now. They’re barely even touching. His hands are still in his pockets, dug into the denim as he looms over her, head tilted down and shoulders hard under her hands. Daryl’s tall enough that she’s up on her toes to get as close as she can without climbing him like a tree and the ridiculous thought makes her want to laugh or faint because God would she climb him. He pulls back but not away, and Beth cracks her eyes open to find him looking at her with such desire she thinks she might fall right the hell over. Her eyes slip shut again as he leans back in, mouth slowly opening and closing to trap her bottom lip between his. He keeps at it, kissing her soft and so damn slow. Her fingers curl to grip his collar, holding on for dear life.
Detective Daryl Dixon is standing in her living room wrecking her with a kiss, and his hands are still in his fucking pockets.
Beth wobbles, her leg cramping from the unfamiliar strain and she breaks the kiss, dropping back down onto her heels. After weeks of feeling him against her—inside of her—the act of actually looking him in the eye at such close range is heady. Her hands loosen their hold on his collar to slip under the leather and feel the soft cotton of his t-shirt. She pushes the jacket from his shoulders and she smiles triumphantly when he has no choice but to finally take his hands out of his damn pockets to get it all the way off. Her smile falters when she notices the black leather straps over his dark blue shirt.
She steps back a bit, but before she can ask the question, he answers. His thumbs hook under the straps as he shifts shoulders back. “S’my holster, I gotta take it—what?”
Daryl interrupts himself when he catches the look on her face. His confusion morphs into amusement when Beth’s hands come up to cover her warm cheeks and she takes another small step back to admire the full picture. She’s dated a man in uniform before. It’s how she had learned the always write down their badge number and name tip. Well, technically they had dated while Zach was in the academy, but she did get to see him armed and she does not remember it being this… She can’t even pick a word. Hot? Sexy? Does a word even exist? Is her brain melting out of her freaking ears? Help? Beth blinks at him dumbly and watches as he starts to shrug the holster off.
“Wait!” Daryl pauses at her outburst. “Maybe you should keep it on? Just for a little bit for, um…”
His hands drop from the straps and Beth watches something wake up inside him at her embarrassing request. His spine straightens and his earlier apprehension falls away as the Daryl she knows—the man that whispers dirty things into her ear as he makes her come over and over— appears before her eyes. He moves toward her, his small grin back on his face as she backs away until her calves hit the soft cushions of her couch. Beth sits down hard, head tilting up to keep her eyes on his and when she lays back to rest on her elbows and part her legs, he follows.
Daryl’s beyond hazy on the details, but they’ve been doing this for a while.
Beth moans underneath him and he can’t help his answering groan against her sweat-slick neck. His mouth opens and he sets his teeth against her skin, biting down with just enough pressure that she’s moaning again, her small hands pawing at his lower back underneath his shirt. Daryl licks and sucks at the red skin, moving down until his swollen lips hit her collarbone. His hand slides up from her hip, fingers pressing into the subtle curve of her waist and breast until they catch the thin strap of her nightie. Daryl pulls back to catch his breath and stare as he slides the strap off her shoulder until she’s bared to him. He feels her lift her head to watch as he leans forward to lave and suck at her nipple, and almost laughs to himself when her head drops back against the couch pillow with a whispered oh yes.
Her whimpers vibrate against his mouth and her thighs squeeze around his hips, grinding up into his covered cock. Daryl gasps out, both glad and pained that they at least managed to get his jeans unzipped and pushed open so he can feel the wet heat of her cunt with only a thin layer of soaked cotton as a barrier. His hand slides back down her body, pausing to squeeze her hip before smoothing over the pale skin of her outer thigh. Beth’s hands move from his back to slip into his jeans to grip his flexing ass and pull him tighter against her. Daryl shifts up to catch her lips again, licking into her mouth with a groan as they find a rhythm so incredibly good his fucking toes curl.
Yeah, they’ve been at this for a while, necking and grinding like they couldn’t pause long enough to get their clothes off if they tried. If Daryl was desperate to fuck her before, he had no idea just how desperate he could get.
Beth breaks away. “Bedroom?”
He doesn’t get a chance to respond before she’s pulling him back in for another long, filthy kiss and he moves back enough to laugh softly against her lips. “Gotta get up to get to the bedroom, girl.”
Beth removes her hands from his pants and wraps her arms around his neck. “So get up already.”
Daryl scoffs at her bossy tone, sliding one arm around her waist and another around her shoulders, praying he’s not about to make a fool out of himself by dropping her or throwing out his damn back. He grunts as he lifts her when he sits up on his knees and then stands in one fluid motion.
Beth giggles when he hoists her up so she can wrap her limbs more comfortably around his body. She laughs harder when he hits his shin on the coffee table and cusses, unbuttoned pants falling low around his hips.
When he shoots her a glare, her laughter settles into a wide smile and her arms release his neck so she can cup his face and press a quick kiss to his lips. The way she looks at him makes his heartbeat stutter and for the first time he feels almost bowled over by how pretty she is. Her blonde hair is a tangled mess thanks to his wandering fingers and the unforgiving fabric of the couch, a few strands sticking to her damp neck. She’s not wearing any makeup to cover the small imperfections on her face and up close he now sees the faint scars on her forehead and cheek. Her chest, neck, and chin are a blotchy red from his stubble burn and love bites.
Still, Beth might be the most beautiful woman he’s ever been with. Daryl barely knows her, so he’s definitely not in love. That would be ridiculous.
But something tells him if he’s not careful, one day he just might be.
“Daryl?”
He snaps to Beth’s soft voice and starts moving again, already knowing the way to her bedroom. They almost make it, but when she brushes his hair back to lean down and kiss his neck, he falters. She moves up to his ear and snickers to herself at the sound he makes when he feels her tongue swiping across the sensitive skin. Daryl nearly tumbles forward, reaching out a hand out to brace himself on the wall when his knee starts to buckle at the sensation because he’s not about to kill the mood by sending them both to the ground. He presses forward until her back hits the wall and steps back when Beth’s legs unwind from his waist so she can slide down and touch her feet to the cold floor.
His other hand comes up to press against the wall, trapping Beth in a way that’s a little too enjoyable. His fingernails scratch at the old wallpaper when her hands tug on his jeans hard enough to slide them completely off his hips and he quickly toes off his boots when she keeps tugging until they’re pooled at his ankles. Daryl feels his face flushing when she tilts her head down to take in the sight of his twitching cock trapped behind the wet fabric of his boxer-briefs. Her touch is expected, but he still hisses at how good it feels to have her fingers grasping him through the cotton, her grip tightening and loosening as she explores him from base to tip.
“C’mon. I wanna try somethin’.” Beth leans up to whisper the words against his chin before pressing a quick kiss to the scruff and ducking under his arm to round the corner into her bedroom.
Daryl pushes away from the wall and steps out of his pants, hopping from one foot to the next as he pulls off his socks and leaves them in his wake. Beth is closing the curtains on her window when he enters and he feels his anger bubble up when he remembers why she feels the need to take the precaution. His wrath goes out in a pathetic puff of smoke as Beth turns away from the window to grab the end of her nightdress and pull it up and off in one smooth motion. The shock of her nudity only freezes him for a moment before he’s moving toward the bed to finally shrug off his holster and lay it on her nightstand. Daryl’s view is cut off when he scrambles to grip the collar of his shirt and pull it forward. He shakes the hair out of his eyes as the shirt falls to the floor and it nearly startles him how much closer Beth’s standing, her eyes glued to his chest. This is the part where he’s never sure if his lover is looking at his scars or his tattoos, but the usual anxiety that comes with baring himself stays quiet under her obviously lustful gaze. Daryl swallows as he watches her hand glide down her stomach to settle between her legs, practically palming her cunt as she stares at his nearly naked form.
That strange sense of power he always feels around Beth flares up again when he moves to take off his underwear and her breath catches at the newly revealed skin of his hip. His own desire flares up in response because, Christ, he’s never felt so wanted before. It must be starting to go to his head a bit because he slows to a stop before too much is revealed and chuckles at her pout. Beth must realize she’s being toyed with because she moves her hand away from between her thighs and steps forward with a swing to her hips that has the smile sliding off his face quick.
“We need ‘em off to do what I wanna try.” Daryl’s eyes dart up to her face. Her smile is as sweet as candy but he’s no fucking fool. This girl is anything but innocent. They seem to have fallen into a sort of game and he wishes he were even a little ashamed at how hard he gets at her good girl gone bad act. What a fucking cliche. He cocks a brow and waits for her to continue and his intrigue is only peaked further when her sudden shyness is real.
“Um, I never gave a— to my boyfriends, I mean. I tried to, but then I got too nervous and um…” She trails off, clearly embarrassed.
“Got too nervous to what?” His heart is thumping hard in his chest at the admission because he thinks he knows where this is going and he might fucking pass out. That first ever fantasy he had in that disgusting blue stall in the bathroom of the train station flies to the front of his mind and his cock throbs hard enough that Beth notices and her eyes drop to stare, bottom lip trapped between her white teeth.
“I never gave a, um—” Daryl slides his underwear further down, revealing the base of his dick and he grins at the way her eyes go round. “I never gave a blowjob before.”
God fucking damn. He slides his underwear off and he’s hard enough that his dick bounces wildly at the new freedom before he grips himself. He strokes himself, fingers sliding across the wet head and he groans both at the feeling and his enraptured audience. “But you wanna suck my cock?”
The blush that blossoms across her face at the question is hypnotizing. Beth nods and he’s not sure if she’s doing it on purpose, but the way she licks her lips has him gripping himself to fight back the urge to come at just the thought of her mouth being on him. Daryl sits on the bed behind him and before he can move further, Beth is on her knees, small hands pushing apart his thighs. He sucks in a breath when she moves forward and he can feel her hot breath fan across his skin. She bites back a shy grin at the reaction and motions to his right. He turns to see pillows and stares at them dumbly before understanding what she wants, handing her one to pad her knees. Again, the imagery of raw, red knees peeking out from her pretty skirts sends a zing of pleasure up his spine and the jump of his cock has her giggling. He finds himself chuckling with her and it’s strange, trusting her enough to be so open despite the fact that he barely knows her.
Beth’s hands smooth up his legs, the softness of her palms contrasting with the coarse hair on his thighs and pausing just short of where he needs her touch. His eyes stay on her face and if he weren’t so lightheaded from all the blood leaving the top half of his body, he might’ve laughed at the serious look of concentration on her face as she watches her own hands move to touch him.
Her fists grip him tightly before twisting up and his eyelids fall nearly shut at how good it feels. His stomach jumps when she strokes back down, his eyes flying back open when he feels her breath and bottom lip on the tip of his cock.
“Like I said, I ain’t ever really done this. So if I do somethin’ you don’t like, you gotta tell me, ‘kay?” Beth looks up at him from her position and it takes him a few moments to process the words because somehow she still looks so fucking sweet kneeling between his thighs, a nervous smile on her face.
Daryl sucks in a desperate breath when she drags the tip of him across her bottom lip, his precum painting her mouth like lipgloss. He nods and reaches out a hand to tangle in the messy hair at the nape of her neck, urging her forward until she opens for him, lips closing to suck experimentally at the head. His lips barely form the shape of a cuss before she takes him in deeper and pulls back, fists and mouth creating an endless loop of pressure around his dick. Daryl groans as she gains confidence, picking up speed and depth until he can feel her throat contracting around him. He makes the mistake of looking down when she overestimates and swallows him too fast, gag reflex kicking in as she chokes on his length, but instead of giving into the urge to pull back, she relaxes into it. His grip on her hair tightens in a way that must be painful, but he’s too busy fucking dying as she takes him deeper, her face wet with tears and spit and precum as she struggles to breath around his cock in her mouth. Beth finally moves back, gasping for air as her right hand jerks him hard and fast. Her rhythm falters when she looks up, face a mess and eyes curious, as if checking to see if he’s actually enjoying himself. Leaning forward to take him again, Daryl practically hunches forward with a moan when her left hand massages his sack, balls drawn up tight as he resists the urge to come.
“God fuckin’—” His other hand comes up cup her jaw and neck, almost whimpering when he feels her throat bulge with how deep he is. “You’re takin’ my cock so— Fuck, gonna make me come. C’mon, baby girl.”
Beth tightens her lips and hums. The sensation has his eyes rolling as he falls back, stomach flexing to keep him upright enough to watch her suck him. “Yeah, that’s it. Knew you’d look so fuckin’ good on your knees for me. No idea how many times I’ve made a mess just thinkin’ ‘bout it, how fuckin’ good you’d look as I come all over that gorgeous face, in your mouth, on your tits.
Beth, fuck I—.”
The words get caught in his throat when she pulls off him with a pop, both of her hands back on his cock, twisting and jerking him at a ruthless pace. God, she’s doing pretty fucking spectacular for someone who’s apparently never really done this before. He grits his teeth, trying to stave off his orgasm because he has plenty of ideas about what they’ll be doing tonight, but Beth clearly has other plans.
“I thought about it too.” Her voice is scratchy—used—and she’s still gasping for breath, but she doesn’t seem to care. “Thought about how your c-cock would taste, how it would feel in my pussy.”
The way she stumbles over the whispered dirty words has his balls drawing up and he tugs her forward by her hair until her lips are wrapping around him again. “Suck me, fuck—please.”
Beth barely closes her lips around him before he’s coming, eyes squeezed shut and nearly sitting back up with the way his pleasure punches through him. He’s realizes he’s shaking as he starts to come down and the pitiful whimpers he hears are coming from him. He blinks his eyes open and looks down, briefly wondering if he’s passed out on his couch having another wet dream when he gets a good look at the blonde between his legs. Daryl’s entire body jerks as she slips her mouth off of him and he can’t help the whispered fuck at the picture she makes, milky white all over her lips and chin. When his eyes trail down he sees the same all over her hands still wrapped around his softening dick.
“I kinda made a mess.” Beth wrinkles her nose cutely as she gently takes her hands off of him and Daryl can’t help the laugh that escapes him. She smiles back and opens her nightstand, quickly tossing a small box on the bed before taking out a small cloth towel to wipe them both off. His dick jumps valiantly at the attention, but his eyes are glued to the box of condoms now next to her pillow. This is clearly not the end of their night. Daryl sighs, falling back flat and arms dropped to his side as he allows himself the few blissful moments post-orgasm. He still feels a bit floaty when the bed dips under Beth’s weight as she lays next to him and he stretches his arms out with a groan, right hand digging under the pillow as his muscles and joints tense then relax. God, it’s been a long time since he’s felt like this.
Daryl’s knuckles hit something hard and he twitches away before remembering, fingers curling around the hard plastic of Beth’s vibrator as he grins.
Beth knows he’s planning something the moment he rolls on top of her, hips nudging her thighs apart and hands pressing into the bed on either side of her head. She can’t quite describe it, but she can feel it in the strange spike of excitement and fear that moves through her from head to toe. She can see it in his blown-out pupils, the way he’s unable to hide his own anticipation despite having already gotten his. Beth still can’t figure out if this is something unique to Daryl, the way he takes pleasure in pleasing her. Is this how he is with all the women he’s with or is there something about her in particular?
Daryl drops a rough kiss to her lips, but before she can pull him in for more, his weight shifts up and away until he’s kneeling. Calloused hands slide down her stomach, hips, and thighs until his fingers tickle the back of her knees, pushing her legs up and baring herself to him so completely she has to shove down the urge to fight his hold. He stares at her cunt with an intensity that she’s never seen—in real life, at least—and after a moment she finds herself wondering what he’s seeing. Is he staring because he likes it or because it’s…different? She hasn’t shaven since their last encounter, so maybe he prefers her bare? She’s never really compared that part of herself to the women she’s seen in videos, but maybe hers is ugly or her lips are oddly proportioned? Daryl’s head tilts, eyes narrowing in thought. Oh god, she wasn’t prepared for this kind of scrutiny.
“Daryl? What are you doin’?”
His eyes flick up to meet hers and his boyish grin quiets the uncertainty that was bubbling up inside her chest. “I’m tryin’ to decide what I’m gonna do first.”
“Oh.” Beth swallows hard, her excitement rising all over again. “Uh, there are options?”
His lips twitch as if he wants to laugh at the shy question, but she’s grateful he doesn’t. She already feels like she’s barely treading water with how utterly unpredictable this night has been. His hands start to slide down the back of her thighs toward her center and she instinctively reaches to grasp the back of her knees to hold them in place. Daryl brings his hand up to his face, sucking his middle and ring finger into his mouth to coat them in spit. Beth watches, fingernails digging into the delicate skin behind her knees to remind herself to stay put. His fingers drop from his mouth and rub sweetly against her cunt before sliding inside to fill her.
She tries to watch, she does, but the familiar drag of his thick fingers pressing just right has her eyes fluttering shut and mouth falling open. Beth squirms after a few thrusts, wondering why he hasn’t touched her where she needs with more than a handful of barely there grazes. A low whine escapes her when he evades her movements, but the sound is cut short when finally she feels him press against her clit.
Beth’s eyes fly open with a squeal when that pressure turns into something more. Her head jerks up to see Daryl smirking as he continues to fuck her with his fingers, keeping her vibrator snug against her clit. Her head drops back with a long moan when he picks up speed, the slick sound of his fingers fucking her nearly drowned out by the buzzing.
Her orgasm catches her by surprise, hitting her so fast she thinks she might snap in two with how suddenly she contorts, back lifting in a hard arch. One of her hands slips from its grip on her leg, grasping at the bedding in an attempt to ground herself as she rides out the waves. It’s short but intense and the surprise of it leaves her trembling. Daryl pauses his thrusting, gently rubbing the vibrator against the soaked lips of her cunt in a way that keeps her pleasure just on that knife’s edge.
“C’mon, girl. Open back up for me.” Daryl nudges her leg with his forearm and Beth lifts her shaking leg up against her chest again.
He doesn’t give her a warning before he starts again, fingers moving fast as he relentlessly rubs against the spot that has her mindlessly encouraging him to keep going with any and every form of yes she knows. When she can manage it, she lifts her head to watch and marvels at how his entire hand is shiny with how wet she is, how obscene his fingers sound, how it looks rough and almost brutal the way he fucks her. This time, she’s aware of it, the slow and steady build of pressure in her pussy as he brings her to that edge again. Beth shouts when he presses the vibrator against her, the sensation almost painful with how fucking perfect it feels. Then suddenly it tips dangerously toward almost too much, and she instinctively tries to jerk her hips away, but Daryl follows no matter where she moves.
The intense pressure she feels makes her squirm harder, both unfamiliar and too familiar at the same time. For a horrifying moment she thinks she’s about to embarrass herself by peeing and she clenches down hard around his fingers to stop whatever is about to happen. She sobs, body twisting to get away or maybe move closer, she can’t be sure.
“Daryl—” It’s the only warning she can manage before he flicks up the setting on her vibrator, the sensation sending her flying over the edge. Beth’s eyes roll as the pressure releases and her cunt contracts powerfully and distantly she hears Daryl groan. It doesn’t matter. She’s too lost in what might be the most intense orgasm of her damn life. Beth feels almost suspended in time; there’s no apartment, no bed, no Daryl, nothing but the pleasure wracking her body in a way that seems almost endless. It’s so good she thinks she understands why people cry during sex if this is what they’re feeling.
It takes her a while to realize she’s digging her nails into her thighs so hard she’s broken the skin, her awareness of her body coming back in bits and pieces. The tremors die down and she almost does cry from how thankful she is when he tosses the toy to the side to give her some relief, his fingers sliding slowly out of her. It takes longer for her brain to flick back on, but when it does she sits up so fast she gets dizzy and has to blink a few times to process what she’s seeing.
Daryl’s clearly hard again, but that discovery is overshadowed by the horrifying fact that his hips are drenched and so is her bed. Panic wells up inside her chest and she reaches forward to press her fingers to the liquid pooled beneath her. The lack of smell alone confirms the liquid isn’t urine, but the other option…well, she’s seen it but she thought that was something only pornstars did.
Like a trick. A sexy trick they taught at pornstar camp or something.
The stupid thought makes her pause long enough to realize her panic is mixing oddly with what feels like a massive flood of endorphins. Fantastic.
“You ever done that before?” His question is gentle, so she must look as distraught as she feels.
Beth shakes her head. “Um, no. I’m sorry. I couldn’t control it—”
He shushes her and leans forward to press a kiss to her slack mouth, hands resting on her waist.
“Did you like it?”
She considers. Despite her confusion, there’s no way she could deny it felt good. Hell, good might not even really cover it. The longer she thinks about it, the harder it is to fight the goofy smile threatening to take over her face because now that’s she’s not so terrified by Daryl’s reaction, she realizes she feels pretty freaking great. Beth’s hands come up to cover her face, but Daryl catches on, hands squeezing her waist until she laughs and gives in. “Yeah, I liked it.”
“Then ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. ‘Sides, I ain’t done yet, girl.”
Beth yelps and giggles when she finds herself on her back again, legs thrown over wide shoulders. Her laughter dies in her throat when when he drags his tongue across her cunt, flicking against her overly sensitive clit. She cards her fingers through his hair, pulling him away with a hiss when it’s too much too soon and he mouths at her swollen lips in a gently apology. His head dips to devour her, tongue swirling around her entrance before dipping inside, the sensation maddening and not enough to make her come again, but just enough to inch her closer. Beth jolts and lets out a breathless laugh when he kisses and nips at her thigh, his whiskers tickling. She props herself up on an elbow, watching him work his way back to the abused bundle of nerves at the top of her mound, fingernails scratching at his scalp when he licks her just right.
It takes her longer to get there, overstimulated as she is, but he’s patient and thorough, working her until she starts to shake, elbow collapsing under her as she loses focus. She doesn’t think it would be so bad if she couldn’t hear how wet she still is, the vulgar sound of his mouth sucking and licking driving her crazy. She’s nearing the point of pain now that she’s so close and starts pushing at his head with both her hands. “Shi—Daryl, I c-can’t. It’s too much.”
Daryl lets her push him back just enough to catch her eye. “You’re done when I say, baby girl.
You ain’t done.”
His arms snake around her thighs to grasp her wrists, holding them against her stomach in an iron grip. Her hands yank against his hold, but struggling is useless as he works her mercilessly. Just when she thinks it really might be too much, she lets go. Beth screams, pumping her hips wildly as she comes again. The sensation is entirely different, a slow sweep through her. She whimpers, her entire body trembling long after she’s come down. He pulls away and releases her wrists to wipe a forearm against his mouth. Beth smiles wide, body arching as she stretches to try and remind her bones they aren’t actually made out of jelly.
She feels him move, leaning over to the side before righting himself, now with the box of condoms in his hand. Beth brushes her hair from her face and huffs out a laugh when she realizes he’s squinting and reading the damn thing. Her leg bends to lift in the air, poking at his side with her big toe to get his attention. Daryl thumbs open the package, glancing at her with an amused look.
“Are they to your likin’, your highness?”
“Just makin’ sure they’re my size, princess.” Daryl rolls his eyes, ripping off a square and tossing the rest to the side. He says it as a joke, but Beth twitches hard enough to catch his attention again. His eyes zero in on her. “But now that you ask, this is a new box. You really were hopin’ to get me into bed, hm?”
His lips twitch at her noncommittal shrug and she almost wants to kick him in the side for looking so damn smug. Daryl rips open the metal foil, pinching the tip as he rolls the condom down his length, fist slowly stroking back up as if he can’t help it. She watches him, thighs squeezing together to try and relieve the throbbing between her legs because she’s kind of wiped, but lord, how many times has she fantasized about this happening?
Daryl shuffles forward on his knees, hands smoothing across her skin as he gathers her legs and shifts them to the side, moving her until she’s nearly on her stomach. He comes up behind her, hands gripping her ass before spreading her cheeks, baring her to him. Beth moans at the way he handles her and her moan spikes when she feels the blunt head of his cock at her entrance, pressing forward until he slips inside.
Daryl answers with his own groan, hips grinding forward into the swollen heat of her. He leans forward, hands pressing into the mattress below as he lowers himself to feel the soft skin of her back against his chest. He rocks forward experimentally, forcing a gasp out of the blonde below him. He drops to his elbows, his body one long line against her back as gives in to the urge to press her against the bed. Daryl shifts to one elbow to get one hand free, swiping Beth’s long blonde hair to the side until her neck and ear are exposed. Tilting his head down, he presses a kiss to her neck and when Beth wiggles against him impatiently, he smiles against her skin.
Daryl rocks forward again and Beth bites back another sound. “Don’t need to be quiet, baby girl.
Nobody here but me.”
Her hands grip the sheets, holding on as he rears back to drive into her again and she suddenly understands what her girlfriends meant when they tried to describe the difference between making love and fucking. She knows he wouldn’t hurt her, but there’s nothing soft about the slap of skin on skin as he drives into her. She can’t control the noises coming out of her mouth, a mixture of groans and yelps each time he enters her.
“That’s right, let me hear how much you like this cock. So wet, takin’ it so well, baby girl.” The filthy praise has a strange mixture of shame and pleasure ripping through her. She’s never been with a man that talks to her the way Daryl does and she’s not entirely sure she really would like it from anyone else.
His teeth scrape across her skin one last time before the weight of him on her back is gone. He grips a shoulder and presses a hand into her lower back, forcing her arch. Beth’s knees scramble to find purchase, but she can’t lift her hips more than he’ll allow, so she’s grateful when he notices her struggle and helps her lift her hips enough to shove a pillow beneath them. His hands return to their place on her back and she sucks in a breath when he draws out of her to readjust his angle and thrust forward. Beth finds herself mumbling any praise she can think of, fingers digging into the bedding below her as he does it again.
Daryl picks up speed, grunting and panting as he fucks her. Beth sobs, her arms flailing back until she can grip his thighs, the muscles tensing below the skin each time he moves. He slows and by the sound of his breathing it’s merely just to catch his breath, but she can’t stand the stillness. She wiggles her hips, needing something more. “Please, please. “
Daryl lets out a huffed laugh, sliding his hands up and down her back as if he’s attempting to calm an unruly animal. The comparison isn’t far off because she feels like one, wild and needy and goddamn it he needs to fuck her already. Beth whines when he scoots back and slips out of her.
That was not what she wanted.
He moves to the side and gently pats her on the hip. “Over.”
Beth rolls gracelessly, shaky hands coming up to brush her long hair from her sweaty face and neck before she strangles herself. Daryl helps readjust the pillow for her lower back and when he’s close enough, she closes her thighs around his hips, dragging him in. He lets out a surprised hey, barely managing to catch himself before face planting into her chest.
Beth laughs when he shoots her an unimpressed look, distracting him enough for her to reach between their bodies to grasp his cock. Daryl’s hips twitch and follow her lead as she encourages him forward, sliding the tip of him between her lips until he’s where she needs him. He doesn’t need much encouragement once he feels her open to him, thrusting into her smoothly with a groan. He leans back on his knees, hands gripping her hips to lift them higher before thrusting again. Beth chokes out a gasp, nodding her head and closing her eyes.
She’s gone back to that lost, floaty feeling, so when he slows, she doesn’t bother opening her eyes to check why. Until she hears the buzzing. Beth cracks an eye open to see him wiggle his eyebrows and she groans through a laugh, idly wondering if she accidentally created a monster by leaving her toy out. His hips pick up speed again, massaging the skin around her clit with the vibrator and she’s grateful for the indirect pleasure because she’s not sure she could handle something so intense again. She realizes that she thought the praise too soon because in the next moment, sharp pleasure shoots through her, her clit throbbing under the pulsating toy.
Beth goes silent and breathless as she arches, squeezing tight around his cock. Daryl lets out a long, high whine. He nearly falls forward, the toy trapped between them. “C’mon, girl. I wanna feel it. C’mon, c’mon.”
Beth plants her hands against his chest, nails digging in as she scrambles for leverage, her orgasm making her shout out. He tosses the vibrator to the side, diving forward until he’s pressed close. Daryl’s hips slap and grind against her own, chasing his release as he moans, whispering about how fuckin’ perfect her pussy is against the skin of her neck. His arms slide around her until he’s squeezing her tight against him, wildly fucking into her until his hips still, body jerking as he comes inside her. Beth’s hands slide across his back, hips gently rocking into his as he finishes.
He catches his breath, laid out on top of her. He lifts himself a bit before things can get too messy and reaches down to grip himself as he slips from her. He ties the condom off and awkwardly rolls from on top of her, his own legs trembling like a newborn deer as he struggles to stand. Beth laughs at him and drags herself off the bed.
“C’mon. Bathroom’s this way.”
He tosses the condom and washes his hands, scurrying back to the bedroom as Beth closes the bathroom door. Once back in the room, Daryl flounders. Is she hoping he’ll leave while she pees? Was there a signal he should have looked for? He scratches at his chin and figures a middle ground is best, bending down to pick up his underwear. He’s slipping the cotton back on when she reenters the room. He only has a moment to panic about what might happen before he feels a petite body at his back and thin arms around his waist. He ducks his head and smiles to himself when he feels Beth’s lips press once between his shoulder blades and again against the tattoo on his shoulder.
Daryl turns, hands coming up to cradle her face. He clumsily strokes her hair, fingers gently brushing away the sweaty strands from her temples and cheeks as he looks at her.
“Um, hi.” Beth grins cheekily, hands tracing odd shapes across his back. “I wanted to ask if you wanna go out sometime?” He kisses her.
Knock knock knock.
Michonne adjusts the baby on her hip, vigorously shaking the cocktail shaker in her other hand.
“Come in! We’re in the kitchen!”
The door flies open, Daryl’s hands full of tupperware and grocery bags. “Hey! Where am I puttin’ this shit?”
“Daryl.” Beth tuts at him, rolling her eyes at his mumbled yet chastised What, woman?
They round the corner, one aggravated by the sheer amount of salads he has in his hands and the other looking nervous enough to bolt at a loud noise. Rick comes in from the backyard, heavy glass door sliding shut behind him but still managing to bring in the delicious smell of whatever is on the grill. “Dixon! Hey Beth. Nice to see you again. Thanks for comin’.”
The detective walks over for a quick hug before stepping back to wave them toward the wide, open kitchen. He follows and gestures excitedly toward the woman and child. Daryl told her that they’ve been married for a while, but the look on Rick’s face—as if he’s still showing off a new bride—has Beth biting the inside of her cheek to hold back a laugh. “This is my wife, Michonne, and our daughter, Judith.”
Beth smiles shyly at the two, nerves fading a bit when the little girl kicks up a joyous fit at the mention of her name. She watches amused as Daryl scoots by Michonne, dropping a kiss on both her cheek and the baby’s. He rolls his eyes when Rick opens his arms wide with an offended look on his face, asking Daryl why he didn’t get a kiss too. Daryl continues to ignore his partner as he opens the fridge, popping in the tupperware to keep cool. Without being told, he grabs a beer from the bottom, sliding it across the island into Rick’s waiting hand.
“We’re drinkin’ the good stuff. You can stick to your P-I-S-S beer.” Michonne waves off Daryl when he moves to hand one to Beth. When he raises his brow at her sudden spelling lesson she bounces Judith on her hip. “She’s picking up everything, so watch your mouth Uncle Daryl.”
Daryl scoffs, but she’s already returned her attention to Beth with a pretty smile. “I’d like to say I’ve heard so much about you, but dragging anything out of these two is next to impossible. Rick said you two knew each other before that house call I sent them on a few months back. How did you two meet?”
Rick perks up, a shit eating grin stretching his face as he cracks open his beer. “Yeah, how did you two meet? Daryl’s been pretty tight lipped ‘bout the whole thing.”
Beth and Daryl exchange a glance, and she’s surprised when he speaks up with a quick explanation. “We met on the train the week my car was in the shop.”
She smiled and played along. “And I was only takin’ the train until I was able to get my truck up to the city, so it was pretty lucky timin’.”
“Damn, that’s one hell of a meet-cute.” Michonne laughs and Beth watches, extremely impressed as she somehow manages to pour their cocktails and expertly intercept Judy trying to shove a loc in her mouth. “Definitely a ride to remember, huh?”
Rick chokes, laughing so hard he doesn’t even care he has beer dripping out of his nose. Daryl shoots him a glare but keeps quiet, unsure of how to answer.
“You have no idea.” Beth admits. Daryl jerks his head to look at his girlfriend, but all she does is wink.
Ultimate Bethyl Fic List 