He hadn't been touched in so long, sometimes the most innocent of contact sent his body into overdrive. The brush of knees sitting side by side, the corner of an elbow, the passing brush of fingers were enough to set fire to the pit of his stomach. Release wasn't something easy to come by out on the road, survival was the priority. His brain just wouldn't cooperate.

The first thing he'd noticed about her was her eyes, the hard glare she always wore, except maybe around Carl. She was with them a while before she'd even started to smile. The first time he'd really saw her smile, he'd been taken. From that point on, he'd thought about her smile, her lips, her mouth. Nothing too bad, something just drew him to it; when her mouth stretched into a lazy smile, he way her whole face lit up when she grinned, the way her lips trembled the slightest bit when she was angry or scared.

He'd indulged himself once, just one time and that was all it took to plant the seed that seemed to spread into every corner of his mind. Soon it was the only thing that would get him off, and he hated it. He felt like a fraud instead of a friend, every thought was a betrayal. It was like taking the precious gift of her smile she'd given him in trust and used it for his own perversions. She didn't know, but he still felt it was written all over his face; the shame of laying in his bunk at night, hand wrapped around his cock with the vision of her perfect, full lips wrapped around it. The wet heat of her mouth taking him in, the bow of her lips pursed around him, looking up at him with wide eyes as his cock moved in and out, over and again. It was all he thought about when he closed his eyes, how soft her lips would be, how it would feel for her to brush them over the head of his cock, the slightest drag of teeth against it. Would she be on her knees and let him put his hands in her locks to guide her, or was she the type that would push him down and kneel over him, devouring him like a predator with it's prey? Every night, the thoughts raced through his mind while the hardness in his pants became unbearable. He'd flatten his palm against the front of his jeans, breathing slow and trying not to create friction. Tonight he was failing miserably. The way she'd licked her fingers after they'd eaten what now passed for a meal. Her and Carl had laughed as she'd sucked each finger clean, making an exaggerated smacking noise for comic relief. He couldn't help but watch intently as the tip of each long finger disappeared into the pucker of her lips, the mere image of it so sexually charged his breath had quickened and he'd grown hard immediately. When her eyes met his, the giggling quieted down and something flashed over her face, too quick for him to read. He could only imagine what his face had looked like, he was as hard as a rock in his jeans and he'd had to stay seated for a while until the ache had faded.

But now, back turned to everyone, Carl sleeping and Michonne keeping watch, he lay under his jacket, hands hidden from view as they fumbled to free himself. Wrapping his fingers around his straining cock to silently work himself off, he'd have to settle for the image of sinking himself into her beautiful smile.