This may or may not have taken 12 years and 13 bottles of wine for me to get posted, but it finally happened! Hope y'all enjoy.

Chapter Five

Daryl Dixon had gone almost four decades without sparking anyone's interests, romantic or otherwise. Now he was damn close to middle aged, with two men not only interested in him, but willing to put in the time and heartache to make it happen. Never mind that at the end of the world, it was men smiling dopily in his direction rather than women. And certainly never mind the fact that one of those men was an ex-cop, pretty much hard-wired to hate guys like him, and the other was his fucking brother.

The important part, the only part he allowed himself to concentrate on, was that there were two whole people in this world who gave a shit about him. It was more than he'd hoped for so far in his life, and overwhelmed him just as often as it comforted him. But even outside of the prison, fighting or hunting or scavenging, one of those men was always in his periphery. Despite their mutual distaste for one another, Daryl seemed to be the one and only thing they could agree upon.

And despite his protests, one was always less than a shout away, watching over him when the other wasn't there, or even going so far as to jump between him and whatever danger loomed in the shadows. Daryl both hated and loved that they were willing to do that for him. He wasn't worth dying for. Didn't deserve their persistent patience and understanding and care. But so long as he had it, and couldn't convince them otherwise, Daryl figured he might as well make the best of it.

The first time he was with Rick just the two of them, Daryl came untouched. They'd been down by the boiler room, clearing out bodies and checking for anything worth nabbing. Covered in blood and guts and sweat, Daryl was using his own flannel as a towel when he caught Rick's eye. The ex-Sheriff was watching him with the hunger and longing of a starving man chained immobile inches from an all-you-can-eat buffet.

"Y'alright, man?" Daryl had asked him, all business even when the look in Rick's midnight eyes was anything but.

"Could be better," Rick had drawled quietly, inching towards him.

"You need a break or somethin'?" Daryl had mumbled, still taken off-guard.

"Or somethin'." It had been frightening how quickly and silently Rick had slithered from several yards away to inches only, breathing the same warm air and dragging his gaze up and down Daryl's body. "What I really want is to kiss you, if you'll let me."

Daryl had shifted on his feet uncertainly. "Now?"

"Mmm," Rick had hummed under his breath, "Right now."

His fingertips skimmed over Daryl's hips, and without any further entreaties, Daryl was putty in Rick's hands. The older man crowded Daryl up against the wall, and quickly ensnarled Daryl's thin lips in a fiery kiss.

Rick was gentle in his passion, barely brushing his palms over Daryl's sides, then hooking his fingers onto Daryl's earlobes and petting them gently. When he finally rocked his lower body into Daryl's pliant form, the move was infinitesimal. And it was only when Daryl responded in kind that Rick began to move more surely, grinding together while softly stroking the sensitive tips of Daryl's ears, and nipping at his swollen lips.

"I've wanted you for so long," Rick had murmured against his neck, and Daryl felt resolutely conflicted over how good those words had felt, sinking in. "Thought so many times about all the ways I would touch you, the way your face would look when I made you come."

"Rick," Daryl had whimpered helplessly, rolling in desperate motions with the ex-Sheriff's body and tingling from head to toe. Because it wasn't natural to be like this, so close to hair-trigger when all they'd really done was some heavy petting. But Daryl's body was betraying him in a big way, flush seeping down past his cheeks, and damp spot becoming increasingly evident at the crotch of his jeans. "Gotta...gotta s-slow... fuck..."

But Rick didn't slow down. His hips canted in that same easy, tortuous rhythm. His lips migrated from Daryl's mouth to his neck, nipping and sucking until the younger man's knees went weak. And his fingers traced figure-eights over Daryl's torso, leaving him a shivering wreck.

"Rick, Rick please, I'm—"

"C'mon, Daryl. I wanna see. Lemme see you."

"I can't—don't want—fuck, Rick—"

And when Daryl finally came, he buried his face in Rick's chest and sobbed out indecipherable words. He both wanted and didn't want it to end, was swept into the relief and pleasure, but couldn't help when deep pink embarrassment rose to his cheeks.

"D-didn't, didn't mean to, I told you—" was all Daryl managed to get out in his brief bout of anxiety before Rick had pulled him into a tight embrace, murmuring soothing words in his ear and reminding Daryl that he wanted this, more than anything. Daryl let Rick support his weight, and thought to himself that being held together by someone else wasn't such a bad feeling.

TWDTWDTWD

It was on a particularly balmy, insufferable day that Daryl realized Rick had never made any efforts to touch him properly. Even with Merle present, Rick kept his roaming fingers and worshipful mouth well above the belt, PG-13 in the strictest sense of the rating. And even though Daryl felt a sharp sense of offense, disappointment, and respect over that notion, what he recognized more than anything was that that was not normal. If Rick was with him, as he proclaimed to be, then they should at least be able to...do...something.

More unsettling than the unwritten rules of the trio's relationship was the fact that Merle's self-proclaimed treatment for Daryl's uneasiness around people was working. He hardly ever flinched when Merle or Rick went to touch him now, and had even found himself initiating friendly contact between other members of the prison group. A pat on the back for Carl, a handshake for Hershel as he headed out on a hunt, a hug for Carol when he hauled in a heady bounty of rabbits.

The motions would come and pass before Daryl's brain had any chance to catch up, or to remember that this was not what he was used to. And soon, Daryl found himself craving those small sings of affection. He found himself smiling at Beth when the young teen thanked him for everything he did for the group, and grasping Glenn firmly by the arm in acknowledgement when the young boy helped him to unload the most recent trip's goods. Whatever Rick and Merle were doing to him, it was working. And whatever phobia of touch he'd held onto into his adult years was dwindling with each passing day, bringing him closer to the happy and well-adjusted person he never expected he could be.

Even so, the three of them hadn't pushed the bounds of their newfound relationship nearly as far as they could reasonably go. Daryl wasn't sure he wanted it to change, and much less what he'd want if given the opportunity. But one thing he was sure of was that he wanted, needed, the both of them- in different ways that resonated the same deep in his chest. They were the difference between sutures and stitches: both held him together, but with minutely varied techniques.

After several weeks of uncertainty, Daryl finally decided to act on the almost-fantasies that had been floating through his subconscious for longer than he'd cared to admit. He was leaning up against Merle's side in their shared bunk when Rick pulled back the privacy curtain and stepped seamlessly inside.

Rather than submitting to his typical, abrupt spell of self-consciousness, Daryl lifted his head and beckoned Rick forward with a deliberate nod of his chin. The ex-Officer smiled warmly and came to sit on his opposite side, letting out a small sound of surprise when Daryl immediately leaned into him and claimed his lips in a chaste kiss.

He moved his lips slowly against Rick's, gradually gaining confidence from the small sounds of pleasure the other man would let loose. But when Daryl's hands quite suddenly dropped to Rick's belt and fumbled blindly with the uncooperative metallic device, Rick broke the kiss with a gasp and stared at him with wide eyes.

"Daryl, you don't have to..." Rick tried.

"Dontcha go doin' somethin' cuz ya think you gotta, brother," Merle quickly said.

"Fuck," Daryl hissed, pulling his hands back to his lap with red cheeks, "Why can't the two of you fuckin' stop?"

Out of his periphery, he saw Rick and Merle share a mutual look of confusion.

"With this coddlin' bullshit!" Daryl clarified, "M'tired of bein' your damn pet project. All this one-sided bullshit. I can think for my damn self."

"We didn't mean it like that, Daryl," Rick told him gently, stroking a hand across his neck.

"We just ain't lookin' to push ya into anything, baby brother. This was always 'bout you," Merle explained.

"Well I don't want it to be. Not anymore. Makin' me feel like a goddamn invalid, and fuck, ain't sayin' m'ready to get fucked or somethin' but at least lemme try—" Daryl cut himself off abruptly, cheeks burning a fiery red and chest going tight.

"Alright," Merle drawled in the soothing low voice he reserved only for Daryl, "Tell us how you want us then."

With that definitive permission, Daryl sputtered a beat, tripping over thoughts in his own mind. What he finally settled on was made obvious the moment he jumped up off the bed and indicated for Rick and Merle to move closer.

Shooting his brother a lewd grin, Merle wrapped a paw around the back of Rick's neck and shoved the man forward and into his mouth, pulling him into a possessive kiss. It only took a few moments for Daryl to become rock-hard in his tattered jeans, straining against the zipper as he watched them fight for dominance.

Daryl fell to his knees in front of the bunk, and the pair immediately paused to gaze at him curiously.

"Don' stop," Daryl ordered gruffly, reaching again for Rick's belt. This time he was rewarded with no interruptions, and didn't stop until the ex-Sherriff's pants were pooled around his ankles, and his hard cock in Daryl's calloused hand. The feel of someone else's length in his fist wasn't as strange as Daryl expected, and quick learner that he was, it didn't take long for him to establish an easy up and down movement, rubbing his thumb over the head just often enough to keep Rick squirming.

"Fuck, fuck Daryl," Rick mumbled against Merle's lips.

The elder Dixon felt his brother's hand slowly creep up his thigh, settling at the thick outline of his cock and rubbing firmly.

"Aw yeah, that's it," Merle praised him, "Fuck. Just like that."

Daryl continued to massage him roughly, but refocused his attention on Rick's straining member. Taking a moment to steel himself, Daryl chanced a brief glance up at the pair of them before descending his mouth hesitantly over Rick's length. He took a page from Merle's book, swirling his tongue over the head before chasing his lips with his hand.

"Jesus, fuck," Rick groaned loudly, burying his face in Merle's neck.

The younger Dixon hummed his contentment around Rick's member, and the ex-cop moaned anew, bucking up against his mouth unwittingly. Daryl tasted salty bitterness on the back of his tongue, and finding he didn't mind it, lapped eagerly at Rick's slit, digging his tongue inside until Rick shouted his name, thighs trembling on either side of Daryl's head.

"Fuck, fuck Daryl, you've gotta stop," Rick panted.

Daryl pulled off with a pop, licking his swollen lips in a way that had both Merle and Rick groaning into the humid air. He rubbed the palm of his hand against his bulge, eyeing the pair of them.

"Wanna see the two of y'all, now," Daryl said breathlessly, "C'mon."

Always eager, Merle rushed to pull off his and Rick's clothes, still watching his brother out of the corner of his eye. He made sure Daryl was giving him his full attention before throwing Rick onto all four's and leaning down to bury his mouth in the ex-Officer's ass.

Daryl's own jaw went slack in shock, and he couldn't help but finally unsheathe his erection as he watched Rick writhe and moan on Merle's tongue, cock hanging an angry red between his legs. Merle pulled back, and held out a hand expectantly in front of Daryl's face.

"Spit," Merle demanded, eyes dark and glimmering. Daryl had no choice to obey. He watched in awe as Merle lubed up his monster of a cock before sinking slowly into Rick's waiting heat. The way the both of them groaned at the sudden burst of pleasure made Daryl think that this had been more than worth the wait.

Putting on a show, the pair kept their eyes on Daryl as their bodies slapped together. The younger Dixon was gnawing at his lower lip, swallowing compulsively as needy warmth flooded his mouth in anticipation.

"Holy shit," Rick groaned after a particularly ruthless thrust. "Fuck, Daryl. You like that? You like watchin' your big brother fuck me?"

Now fisting his own cock outright, Daryl could only nod mutely, entranced by the sight. But Merle broke through his haze with a rough bark, "But ya didn't think we'd let ya take the easy way out, now did ya little brother?"

Daryl cocked an eyebrow in confusion. So Merle continued, "Get your ass up here and keep Officer Friendly's dirty mouth busy."

Only hesitating a beat, Daryl quickly skimmed out of his jeans and shorts, and moved to sit uncertainly by Rick's head. The ex-cop manhandled him down onto his back, and swallowed Daryl down without any warning, humming around his rock-hard length and letting one hand trail down to cup his balls. The sight of leader Rick, the man who'd stood by his side time and time again, with his lips wrapped tightly around his cock, was more than Daryl could handle.

He whined in the back of his throat, fisting Rick's curly locks and locking brilliant blues with the man in front of him. Every jarring thrust from Merle sent Rick's mouth plunging down his dick, tongue swirling and flicking, mouth vibrating with the remnants of his moans.

There was no time to adjust, and no slow build. Merle fucked him through Rick, pushing the both of them towards release faster than either thought they could handle, and grinning wildly when both began to choke on their moans, chests heaving as each wave of pleasure wrecked them.

Daryl felt a slick finger circle his entrance, before seamlessly slipping inside. And even though Rick had never come close to touching him like this before, it seemed the older man was an expert in his own right. He crooked his fingers hard, rubbed relentlessly over Daryl's spot, and with a mangled sob, Daryl came with a jolt.

"Fuck, Rick! Fuck, oh god, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

His hips rutted desperately against Rick's mouth, ass ground down on Rick's hand. And Daryl's eyes shot open just in time to catch Merle ogling him darkly. He snapped his good hand forward to Rick's hair, fisted it, and began to thrust into the pliant man for all he was worth.

"Oh, fuck yes. M-Merle, I'm gonna, fucking hell Daryl, I'm—"

Daryl watched, the tables turned, and he had the pleasure to watch as Rick came untouched against the bedspread, groaning Merle's name, and his, and thrashing hotly as his buzzing body crested. Merle came soon after, grunting his way through the onslaught of pleasure and never slowing his movements until, with the last of his orgasm, he collapsed boneless on Rick's back.

They lay in a sweaty heap, limbs entangled in a sticky, uncomfortable way.

Rick was the first to break the silence. "Fuck," he breathed.

"Mmm," Daryl agreed in a low sound.

"Was that what you wanted, baby brother?" Merle asked him.

"Mmhmm," Daryl hummed, "And when y'all wake up, I'm gonna wanna do it again."