Rick hadn't spoken to him since last night in the cell. Even when the council was gathered once more to discuss not only what they would do about the potentially dangerous group of survivors, as well as the new information Daryl had given them.

He had hoped, somewhere deep down, that Rick had just said those things out of anger, and fear, and that once he had been given a chance to cool down, his Alpha would seek him out.

But Rick hadn't even bothered taking the seat next to Daryl at the meeting, ignoring the archers glance as much as the puzzled looks of every other person in the room. The ex cop had sat down as far away from the tracker as possible, and it was all Daryl could do not to get on his hands and knees, crawl over to the older male and nuzzle against a strong thigh, begging him for his forgiveness.

"You shouldn't have gone out there alone, Daryl." Hershel had stated somewhere during the conversation, and the archer's temper had flared, gaze flicking towards his Alpha, searching for any indication that another outburst would piss the sheriff off, because fuck, he just couldn't upset Rick any more than he already had.

His Alpha had given him a glare, eyes narrowed, sending the redneck a very clear warning. Daryl had wanted nothing more than to lash out even more, but finally managed to shut down the part of him that wanted to tell Hershel to mind his own fuckin' business.

"Better knowin' what we're dealin' with then not." He had simply ground out, fingers twitching against his thighs.

"Now that we do, what are we planning to do about it?" Carol asked, brows furrowed. "We could try to ambush them at night, maybe?"

"I still think we should just keep an eye on 'em. See where this goes." Hershel replied, holding a worn copy of the bible in his hands. "Maybe we don't have to kill them."

"They shot Daryl. We should take them out before they hurt anyone else."

"I agree with Carol, we should take care of this now, just like Daryl said two days ago." Maggie agreed, glancing at her father. "I know you don't like the idea, but isn't it better to nullify a threat before it because a serious issue?"

Daryl huffed. This was going no where, again.

"What do you think, Rick?"

The ex cop shook his head as he was addressed, running a hand over his face, taking a moment before he replied.

"I think that no matter what we decide, eventually, someone will go after them either way."

He didn't have to say who exactly he was talking about, not with the way the cop was eying him warily. He felt a lick of shame travel up his spine, because he had never seen Rick so defeated, while still in his right mind.

Had he done this? Had he broken his beautiful, strong Alpha?

Rick stood, one hand placed palm down on the table.

"So we go after them."

After the meeting, Daryl had gone to help the group at the fences, violently plunging his blade into head after head of the undead crowding against the metal fence, attempting to get past it and make a meal of out one of them. It felt good to have something to do with his hands, a way to get rid of all the anger and frustration he felt, gnawing at his insides and making him sick.

Carol had mentioned he looked pale, that he should lay down and rest, but there was no way he was getting even a second of that, anyway. So he had shrugged it off and done what he did best. He walked away.

What'cha gonna do now, hm? You gonna cave, lil brother? Get on your knees like a good bitch and take it?

Meerle's words sounded condescending, maybe even amused, shaking the archer further apart. He wished he could just stop thinking, stop hearing his brother's voice in his mind, because it was driving him insane.

Ya noticed how he didn' even wanna sit with ya? He finally figured it out, didn' he? That ya ain't good enough. You're weak, Darleena, always have been. Should just let it go, walk away like ya always have.

Another violent thrust into a walkers eye splattered Daryl's face with blood, but the tracker didn't even flinch. One after the other he took them out, concentrating solely on his task until someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

Out of reflex alone, Daryl whirled, blade raised and ready to strike, heart pounding so hard with fear it fucking hurt.

He should have known there were only two people in this prison that dared lay a hand on him when he was like this, and one of them was standing right before him, giving him a small smile.

"Come on pookie. Lunch time." Carol said, her voice warm and gentle, as if she was trying to coax a wild animal closer. And maybe that's what he was, after all.

"Not hungry." He growled, making to turn around and continue working, only stopped by Carol placing her hand on his arm, worry written all over her face. So now he was burdening not only Rick, but Carol too. Fucking awesome.

"You have to eat, Daryl. I don't know whats going on between you and Rick, but if we are going after those men, you need to be at your best. And that means you need food."

He remained silent, glaring at the woman, knowing that it wouldn't make her run for the hills like it would every other person in this place, save for one of course.

"Don't give me that look. You know I'm right. Everyone else left for lunch half an hour ago. Its your turn now."

The archer glanced to both sides. Carol was right, he had been completely alone at the fence, and hadn't even noticed. He was getting distracted too easily now a days, was letting his mind drift too much.

"Fine." He ground out, cleaning of his blade on his pants before shoving it back into the sheet at his hip. They had walked together in silence for a few moments, before Carol spoke up again.

"So. What is going on between you and Rick?"

"Ain't none of your business.." The female stopped in her tracks, and immediately the archer felt guilt wash over him. He hadn't spoken to her like that in a long time, and he hadn't even meant to.

"Shit. 'm sorry Carol. Didn' mean to-"

"I know pookie." She interrupted, smiling at him, patting his cheek gently. "You can always talk to me, you know that, don't you?"

"Yea. I know."

The look on Daryl's face when he silently refused to sit next to him had almost been enough to make Rick break down. But he couldn't just continue as if nothing had happened, couldn't reward that kind of behavior. If he did, Daryl would never learn.

So he picked a spot as far away from his archer as possible, hadn't spoken a single word to him, and hated how it seemed to make Daryl curl in on himself, hurt and insecure, and all Rick wanted to do was wrap his arms around the redneck, hold him close.

But that was not an option, not with how things were going.

Daryl had broken his promise, had put himself in danger again. He had been careless not only regarding his own life, but the life of those that cared for him as well. It was time that the archer understood that he couldn't act like a loner any longer. He had a family now, and that family didn't just consist of the cop and the kids, neither. There were so many others that would risk their life for him, and Daryl just didn't see that.

He had done his gardening, as he had every day for months. He had fed the pigs, brushed down and watered the horse, and helped out anywhere else he was needed. The sun was starting to set as he sat on the floor outside of the main cell block, a tub of water before him, scrubbing at a pair of worn jeans.

He had successfully avoided the archers presence so far, going to lunch and dinner much earlier than usual, and sticking to tasks he knew his tracker despised. Like washing clothes.

So when Rick heard footsteps approaching, the sheriff was surprised to see his archer approaching, clothes in hand. It had been an easy day, concerning physical labor, but Rick still didn't feel like he had the energy to deal with this right now.

"Move over." Daryl breaths, kneeling next to the cop, but keeping their bodies far enough apart so there was no risk of touching. Rick had seen this behavior before, back when they had first started to get closer, back at the farm. Cautious, small movements paired with an unsure glance.

Rick did.

He moved to sit on the right of the tub, watching out of the corner of his eye as Daryl took over, cleaning the cops jeans with steady hands. Of course, there was no way the redneck was fooling him. Rick could almost feel how uneasy Daryl was, the uncertainty so obvious with the way Daryl kept glancing at him every few minutes.

"Ya got somethin' ta say, Daryl?" He finally asked, still not turning to face the archer. If they were going to do this, they might as well get it out of the way now. They weren't alone, but it didn't matter, not now. He had done everything in his power to make Daryl comfortable, had kept even the most innocent displays of affection, and their arguments, in private. It wasn't going to go down like this today.

"'m sorry." Daryl whispered, shoulders tensing as the words fell from his lips, scrubbing at the pants he was holding with more force than necessary. " Won' do it again."

"Yes, ya will." Daryl flinched at the answer, and Rick had to force himself to remain still, to quell the need to comfort and care for the archer, make that desperate look on his face disappear. "Gonna keep doin' this until yer dead, Daryl. 'cause ya don't care about yer own life."

"... Ain't gonna die. I promised ya I wouldn't."

The reply made Rick laugh, a broken sound forcing itself out of his throat. It made people turn their heads, stare at the pair of them. Daryl stared, too.

"Whats so funny?"

"Just the idea. Thinkin' its somethin' you can promise." Rick shook his head, lips still curled into a smile that felt wrong, even to him. "Ya can promise ta try, Daryl. Try ta stay safe. An' you didn'."

Rick stood, slowly, his body aching with something that wasn't physical pain. Daryl stayed on his knees, head turned upwards to look at him, lips pressed into a fine line.

"Gonna go check up on Judy. Gimme those, they're clean enough." He held his hand out for his pants, watching as Daryl slowly pulled them out of the water and handed them over. Rick didn't say 'Thank you'.

He just walked away.

Daryl had left his clothes where he had dropped them after joining Rick. They didn't matter.

He had risen to his feet as quickly as possible, practically ran from the dozen or so pair of eyes that had been glued to him and Rick since.. fuck, there was no way to describe the sound that had come from his Alpha. It had been painful just to hear, like nails scraping over a chalkboard, causing goosebumps to rise all over the archers body.

Breathing had become painful, his chest felt so constricted, and he was pretty sure he shoved a few people on his way to his sanctuary so hard, they must have fallen.

The second he had made it back to the empty cell block, Daryl fell to his knees. There was no way to hold back his tears any longer. They ran down his cheeks in fat, salty drops, over his jaw and along his neck. He could feel them dampening his shirt, could taste them on his lips.

He felt so wrong, so utterly broken he could barely manage to inhale enough oxygen to keep him conscious. The tears kept falling, and all the tracker could do was sit there, curl his arms around his chest and pray to whoever was listening that this would stop, to find the strength to push all these feelings aside and lock them away so he could go back out there, be useful.

Rick hadn't looked at him, hadn't said anything about Daryl doing his laundry, had just left him where he was.. God, nothing had ever hurt this badly, not even when his momma had died in that fire. His Alpha pulling away from him was the cruelest punishment the archer could imagine, and he had gone through some pretty fucked up stuff. The scars on his back were proof of that.

What was he going to do? How was he going to get Rick to forgive him, to show his Alpha that he could be good, that he'd listen-

But would he really? Could he be good? Rick had said he'd risk his life until he got himself killed. It sounded like something he would do.

It felt like hours until Daryl managed to get a grip on himself. His eyes were burning, the skin of his cheeks raw from stubbornly brushing them off with work roughened hands. He probably looked like shit, and there was no way in hell he was going to let anyone see him like this. Still, he couldn't stay in here for the rest of the day.

The watch tower was his best bet for privacy, and whoever was on duty up there was going to have to get the fuck out. Daryl would keep watch for the rest of the day.

They assembled a group to go after the Claimers, as Carl had named them, the next day. Daryl watched as they prepared, Michonne with her sword, Meggie and Glenn cleaning their guns. Carol was shoving a blade into her boot, while Sasha and Tyresse spoke quietly to each other. Daryl had cleaned his crossbow in the watch tower last night, leaving him nothing else to do but wait for everyone else.

"You good to go?" Michonne had asked him, and Daryl had nodded. He was more than ready to take those fuckers out. Maybe then Rick would forgive him. Maybe he could make the things go back to the way they had been before he had stolen away. Maybe Rick would leave his cell door open again, allowing Daryl to slip into bed with him. Last night, when Daryl had tried, it had been firmly tied shut.

He had decided then that he would do whatever he had to. He'd give Rick whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. He was incapable of living without the sheriff's affection, without his touch, not after he had felt what it was like to be loved by his Alpha.

Right after he killed the Claimers, he'd be what Rick wanted him to be.

"You're going to pace a hole into that floor, Rick."

Rick didn't care. He'd keep pacing until the group was back. Until they were all safe behind the concrete walls once again. He had wanted to go with them at first, had wanted to join them. But the council had decided that he'd be needed back here. If anything happened, if they were caught, or worse, killed.. They'd need someone that could keep things going at the prison.

The cop had hated it. Resented it with every fiber of his being. He wanted to argue, wanted to tell them that he was emgoing/em, no matter what. But how could he, when he was trying to teach Daryl that he had to listen to what he was told?

And so he had stayed, with Carl and Judy, Hershel and Beth, and all the other survivors. Had paced along the fences, had sat in the watch tower for hours, watching the dirt road leading up to their home. He felt like a trapped animal, pacing its cage, looking for a way out.

"Rick. They're going to be okay. They're strong. We have to be patient."

But how could he be patient, knowing his archer was out there, facing the men that had almost killed him? It wasn't that he didn't trust the people Daryl was with. He would trust them with his life. But it tore at his nerves either way.

Night had fallen, and it wasn't a surprise that they hadn't returned. The plan had been to wait for a moment of weakness in the all male group, and take them down then. There was no telling when that would be. It didn't mean they were dead, it just meant they hadn't gotten a chance to strike yet. Rick forced himself to believe it, forced himself to hold on to that thought.

Daryl would come back.

It hadn't gone down the way it was supposed to. Not that it mattered now.

They were dead. All of them.

Daryl stared down at the lifeless bodies of the men they had just shot down. Watched as the blood leaked from the leaders skull, forming a crimson puddle in the grass.

Somehow, they had been spotted. Had been forced into an open confrontation. They had been lucky. Had managed to take them out.

"Daryl, we need to go!" Sasha hollered, holding up her injured brother. They had stashed the car a few miles from the building next to the rail roads. Had to get back to the prison, here Hershel and Doctor S could see to the wound in Tyresse shoulder, caused by a bullet ripping through him.

He gave one more look at those dead eyes before he turned, running towards his group. Most had been grazed by bullets, but only one had been seriously hurt. It could have been a lot worse, and Daryl thought that somehow this should feel like victory. As the car roared to life, with Tyresse in the back seat, bleeding to death while Sasha wept and whispered to him that he would be okay, it didn't feel like anything but failure.

Tyresse hadn't made it.

Had bled out on the backseat of a shitty Sedan. Sasha was a mess, of course. Rick hadn't seen her since they had returned. Carol and Bob were looking after her, trying to get her to at least eat.

Daryl hadn't said a word when they returned, only helped carry the corpse to the part of the garden they used as a graveyard, and started digging. Rick had wanted to grab a shovel and help, not only because he was worried about the archer, but because he had felt useless the entire time they had been gone.

"Don'." Daryl had rasped, shaking his head. "Gotta do this myself. Please."

The sheriff hadn't liked it, could see Daryl's arms shaking with the effort of plunging the metal into the earth again and again, but he had backed off. Had stood and waited for Daryl to finish.

After the funeral, he had taken his archers hand and silently walked him to the cell they slept in together, forcing him to sit down on the worn mattress. Neither spoke as Rick pulled off Daryl's shoes and socks, eased him out of his angel wing vest, cleaned the blood from his face, neck and arms. Daryl barely reacted, gaze fixed on the floor, breath hitching every few minutes as if something was about to burst out of him, before he swallowed it down again.

"Gonna be okay." Rick finally said, once he had laid Daryl down on their bed, slipped in beside him and held him close. Fuck teaching Daryl a lesson.

Right now, all that mattered was piecing his archer back together.

It had taken Daryl three days before he felt even a little like himself again. All this shit at once had been too much. The only thing that had kept him together was Rick. That night, he had cleaned and soothed him, had curled up in bed with him until he had fallen asleep in his Alpha's arms.

He hadn't left Rick's side since that day. Had clung to him whenever possible, buried his face into the sheriff's neck and inhaled his scent, soaked up his warmth and let himself feel safe. Nothing could touch him while he was with Rick, nothing at all.

"Its gonna be okay." Rick kept telling him, whispered it into his ear when they laid together on their bunk, legs tangled, arms wrapped around each other. Rick would kiss the spot below his ear, his jaw, cheek, lips, any patch of skin the cop could reach without dislodging their hold on each other. Daryl allowed himself to believe him, at least for the moment. To believe that somehow, they'd get through this.

They had to.

"Gonna go back out tomorrow."

The archers announcement made Rick's head snap up from his book, blue eyes searching Daryl's face.

"Ya sure ya can handle it?" Rick asked, closing his book to place it beside their bed on the makeshift nightstand he had made for them.

"Yeah, 'm sure." Daryl huffed, rubbing a hand over his face as he sat down beside the cop. He hesitated, glancing at Rick from the corner of his eye. "..That a'right with you?"

"'course. You do what'cha gotta do." Rick's brows furrowed as he placed a broad hand on Daryl's neck squeezing gently. "Ya sure yer ready?"

"Yea. Jus' wanted ta make sure ya wouldn't.."

"Wouldn't be mad at ya." Rick finished. The archer nodded, reaching up to cover Rick's hand with his own, holding on to it.

"Don' ever want ya to be mad at me like that again." He confessed, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He'd never been good at this emotional shit, never been comfortable with it. But he knew he had to talk to Rick. Mostly because he knew that's what his Alpha wanted. "I swear, Rick, didn' mean to piss you off that bad, was just tryin' ta help."

"I know, Daryl. I know ya were tryin' ta help. I do. Come 'ere."

Daryl didn't protest when he was pulled back against a firm, warm chest, turning his head to rest his cheek against it, inhaling the familiar scent of his sheriff. It felt good, to be held like this again. To know his Alpha loved him.

"Not gonna do it again." The archer breathed, lifting his face to brush a kiss over Rick's neck, nuzzling into the soft skin. "I promise, Rick. I ain't gonna do anythin' like that anymore. Gonna listen to ya."

"Yea. I know ya will. Love ya, Daryl. Ya know that right?"

"I do." Daryl let his eyes slide shut. "Love ya, too."

Daryl was frustrated. There was no other way to put it. He was fucking frustrated.

Every since they had returned from their mission, he and his Alpha hadn't had a single chance to be intimate. Something had always come up. Either one of them had to keep watch during the night in the tower, while the other slept alone in their bed. Mostly, they had Judith with them at night, and Daryl was about as enthusiastic about being intimate in front of a child as he was to lettin' himself be ripped apart by walkers. Rick, luckily, shared this sentiment. The few times they hadn't been around their daughter, they'd simply been too exhausted. With Daryl going on runs they were separated during the day as well, and there just simply wasn't emtime/em.

And now, Daryl wanted nothing more than to drag his Alpha to the empty cell block and demand that Rick take care of the needs he had caused.

The archer felt his cock jump at the mere thought of being so close to his sheriff again, feel himself being stretched open and filled.. God, he fucking needed to find a way to get them the privacy, and time, that they needed. By now, just being close to Rick was enough to make him hard, and he had been forced to quickly make for their cell and take matters in his own hand on more than one occasion.

It was even worse today, the tracker could feel the cops eyes on him whenever they were in each others proximity, gaze so piercing it made him squirm. He wanted so much to just throw Rick down in front of everyone and take what he yearned for.

Finally, when darkness had set, Rick had handed Judith to Beth before returning to their cell. Daryl could barely contain himself, shifting on the bed, unable to settle comfortably. Rick was standing not far from the bunk, shirtless, cleaning his neck and face with a damp rag.

"See somethin' ya like?"

The question threw Daryl off, made him freeze, looking at the floor as if something interesting was to be seen.

"Ya know I do." He huffed, worrying the flesh of his lower lip with his teeth.

Rick chuckled, dropping the damp cloth into the metal sink, walking over to the bar doors. Daryl watched intently as Rick double checked that it was indeed tied shut, and completely covered by the sheet that hung over it. If his Alpha was making sure they wouldn't be disturbed, then..

His cock went from half hard to rock hard within a second. He knew what was coming, knew he'd get what he wanted..

"Gotta be quiet. Think ya can do that, Daryl?" Rick questioned, turning around to lean against the metal bars, arms crossed over his chest.

Daryl nodded, a swift, jerky movement that was entirely too eager for his own liking, but fuck it. Rick was grinning at him, clearly pleased with Daryl's enthusiasm, and that's all that mattered. That Rick was happy with him.

"A'right then." Rick moved over to the bunk, motioning for Daryl to sit at the edge for him. The archer hurriedly complied, moving until his naked feet hit the floor, eye level with his Alpha's groin, hungrily staring at the obvious bulge in the cops pants. He was about to reach out for it, desperate to taste Rick, feel the weight of his length on his tongue-

"Hold on, darlin'." Strong hands took hold of his wrists, making it impossible for the tracker to get what he so desperately wanted. "Gotta be good for me, first. Then you'll get what'cha want."

Daryl swallowed. It reminded him of the time in the watch tower, Rick forcing him into submission. Except, he wasn't being forced. He loved submitting to his Alpha, even if he needed a push to admit it to himself sometimes.

"A'right." He rasped, agreeing to whatever Rick had planned before he could think too much about it.

"Strip."

It was an order, and Daryl didn't hesitate even for a split second. He shrugged off his vest, pulled his shirt over his head, casting it aside. His belt and pants went next, until all that remained were the worn boxers, that did little to conceal his arousal.

"That too, Daryl."

It was all the encouragement he needed, and so Daryl stood, pushing the fabric off his body almost roughly, before sitting back down.

It was utterly humiliating, sitting on their bed completely naked, with Ricks eyes raking over his body, looking like he was ready to fucking devour him.

"Beautiful." Rick murmured, grazing his fingertips against the rednecks cheek, all the while regarding Daryl as if he was something precious, something to cherish. It made him all kinds of uncomfortable, but most of all, it turned him on.

"So beautiful. Wanna see all of you, Daryl. An' yer gonna let me, aren't ya?"

"Yea. I'll let ya." Daryl replied, looking up into his sheriffs face. He'd do anything, anything at all, if it just meant he could have Rick in return.

"Get on your hands and knees. Go on now, darlin'."

And Daryl did. He moved into position, feeling exposed and excited, waiting. He's shaking with want now, so ready to be taken that he wasn't sure he'd make it through this with his sanity intact. The first brush of hands over his hips made him jerk, taken by surprise, before pushing his hips backward, hoping to get some sort of touch, but was quickly reprimanded, hands grabbing onto his hips with bruising force.

"Not yet." Rick husked, and Daryl could almost hear the grin on the sheriffs face. He enjoyed having Daryl at his mercy. Liked the way Daryl was trembling before him. "Want ya to open yourself up for me. Wanna watch."

And how was the tracker supposed to refuse his alpha when his voice was so low, so rough, his arousal evident with every single word?

Shoving two fingers into his mouth, Daryl swiftly covered them in his spit, only as much as absolutely necessary before reaching behind himself, finding the tight ring of muscles hidden between firm mounds, wiggling his fingers until he could push in, trying to get in both at once.

"Stop." The growled word alone was enough to make Daryl whine, but he stilled his hand, ignored the way his hole fluttered against his fingertips. "Slow down. Don' want ya ta hurt yourself."

"I can take it." Daryl snapped, desperation peaking, slender hips bucking without his permission.

"I know ya can. Don't want ya to. Start with one. Nice an' easy."

The archer wanted to protest, wanted to whine and beg until Rick just emfucked him/em. But he knew that no amount of begging was going to get his Alpha to speed things up, not when he was like this. And fuck, in a twisted, masochistic way Daryl emloved/em this.

He had worked in two fingers when it started getting hard to keep the sounds of pleasure from escaping his lips, desperate little gasps echoing in their little cell. Rick's hands were still placed on his hips, holding him in place. He wasn't the only one enjoying himself, Rick's breath had before more and more labored with each minute that passed by, greedily watching his archer open himself up. Once or twice, he had added some saliva to Daryl's entrance, had rubbed his thumb over the tight little hole, making the archer want to howl out with pleasure. The pressure against his walls was bliss, hadn't felt that in so long.. But he just couldn't reach that spot inside him, no matter how much he arched his back, or angled his hips.

"Doin' so good, Daryl, so perfect for me." Each word forced another tremble through Daryl's entire body, Rick's voice doing things to him, the heat in his abdomen coiling tighter. "Come on, jus' one more. Jus' one more and I'll give ya want ya want, fill ya like ya want me to."

There was no way to suppress a groan, hips twitching eagerly as Daryl shoved another finger along side the first two, spreading himself open, scissoring his fingers until he felt his muscles relax, until he can't take it anymore.

"Can't wait no more, gotta touch me Rick.." He ground out, barely able to hold back another moan, thrusting into himself with as much force as he could muster, thighs trembling dangerously. "Please, ya have to, ya have to-"

"Shh. 's a'right babe, I got ya. Did so well, Daryl. Gonna give ya what you want now."

Relief washed over him like a tidal wave, turning his body almost boneless. Finally, fucking finally, he'd feel Rick again, feel him hot and hard within himself.

Rick flipped him over as if he weighed nothing at all, man handling the archer onto his back. The redneck spread his legs obscenely wide, fists curling into the thinning sheets beneath him. He probably looked like a bitch in heat, face flushed, panting heavily and so fucking needy for his Alpha. Rick looked almost feral as he moved over him, teeth bared, growling low in his chest.

"Hurry, fuck Rick, hurry!" There wasn't any time left to waste, Daryl was burning up from the inside out, and he had been good, he'd done what the cop wanted, he deserved-

Every coherent thought was taken from him when he felt himself being breached, head falling back with a grunt. Deeper and deeper Rick pushed, filling Daryl so slowly it brought tears to the rednecks eyes.

"So perfect, Daryl, so gorgeous. Fuckin' perfect for me, everythin' I ever wanted. Love ya, darlin', so much." Rick's voice sounded far away, echoed in Daryl's mind, hearing but not really grasping them. All he could think about was the length buried inside him, as far as possible, the way the sheriff rolled his hips in the smallest of movements, his crown pushing against the bundle of nerves hidden within, each tiny thrust causing stars to spark behind his eyes.

It had never been this way, even after he had been shot. Rick was plastered to him, resting his entire weight on the tracker's body, keeping him firmly pinned beneath him, mouthing at his neck, his shoulder, marking Daryl, claiming him once more.

Daryl lost track of time. He didn't know how long they rocked into each other, how many times Rick's hands curled into his hair and tugged, making him keen and whine, taking him apart piece by piece and putting him back together.

He had been so lost to it all that his peak took him completely by surprise, and it was all he could do to muffle the scream into his fist, biting down on it so hard he could taste the coppery tang of blood on his lips. Seconds later, he felt himself being filled, scalding hot liquid filling him up spurt after spurt.

Rick was whispering sweetly into his ear, praising him, confessing his love over and over, holding on to Daryl like a man drowning. Daryl was barely able to react, feeling sated and suddenly exhausted. He managed to wrap one arm around his alpha, holding on as tightly as his sore muscles would allow, turning his head to trail kisses over a stubbly cheek.

This was exactly where he was supposed to be. Right here, with his Alpha.

And maybe, after all the horrors they had gone through.. they'd finally find some peace.