AN: Here we are, our last night of honeymoon before we send the two little twitterpating lovebirds back to their real lives.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Carol had run ahead of Daryl, wrapped in her blanket, to go to the bathroom. Daryl was less formal about things, and he'd pissed in the yard before he came inside. Despite the blanket he wore around his shoulders, he practically shook the cold off when he entered the cabin, and he dropped the bundle of their clothes, which he'd carried inside tucked up under his arm, on the floor for them to deal with later. Carol met him, coming from the bathroom, with her blanket still draped around her shoulders like a cape. She walked directly to the pallet that they'd built on the floor in front of the fireplace—a place where they'd practically been living for the day—and smiled at him.

"I'm all cleaned up. Come here," she said. "I'll clean you up."

Daryl toed off his shoes and walked over, stepping onto the pallet to join her. She grinned at him. Despite her insistence that the healing bruises on her face and the lingering hair color that hadn't washed out entirely were hideous, Daryl didn't see anything about her that was hideous. She was the most beautiful woman in the world, to him, and a smile like that was worth anything—especially when she gave it so freely and it could be earned so easily. Daryl had had the great fortune to bask in the light of her smile almost constantly since he'd kissed her and made her his wife. He was almost certain that it was a warmer and happier glow than even summer sunlight.

Holding eye contact with him, Carol lowered herself down to rest on her knees on the floor. Daryl's stomach churned a little, though his brain didn't immediately register what it was that made him uncomfortable about the gesture.

Carefully—very delicately—Carol used a warm cloth to wipe down Daryl's dick and balls in a way that made him shiver. She laughed quietly at his reaction to the delicate handling. Tossing the rag to the side, when she was done, she ran her tongue down the length of him and she teased his balls with her fingers. Daryl grunted at her efforts and broke eye contact for the first time.

"What's wrong?" Carol asked, sitting back on her heels.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I fuckin' hate to admit it," he said. "But this is one of them damn times when I'm just a man. It ain't you. Shit—it ain't you. But I prob'ly got about thirty minutes to an hour before you're even gonna pique his interest after the number you done on me out there."

"I'm sorry," Carol said. She looked so damn disappointed, all of a sudden, that Daryl wished he had the capability to have a real heart to heart with his dick about the fact that, somehow, it seemed only reasonable that all the time he'd spent not having sex with Carol before he knew her should, somehow, be credited to him now so that they could fuck as long as they pleased without these stupid biological limitations. No matter how long he tried to rationalize with his dick, though, it wasn't going to change anything. They would simply have to wait.

"Hey—don't be sorry," Daryl said. He reached a hand out and touched her, leading her to look at him. "Fuck—if I could, I'd be all over that. All over you again. All night. I wouldn't never let up." She smiled at him, and his stomach flipped, happy to have won the smile back. "But—listen—if you don't want to—do that? Later, I mean. You don't gotta."

Carol licked her lips. Her brow furrowed, but there were some lingering bits of her smile there.

"Why wouldn't I want to?" She asked. "You do it for me all the time."

Daryl nodded his head.

"Listen—I like eatin' your pussy more'n it's even decent to put into words. That shit ain't even up for debate. It's just—it kinda made me realize, just now, that—you're all kneelin' before me like I'm some kinda fuckin' king or some shit," Daryl said. He shook his head. "Don't want you to feel like I expect you to be submissive to me or whatever."

Carol smiled at him again, softer this time than before.

"Maybe you are a king to me. Something like that. My king—my husband. I don't mind being submissive to you, Daryl," Carol said. She shook her head. "Not—sometimes. Because you give me the choice. I know—I can trust you."

Daryl's chest tightened. His knees felt oddly shaky. He didn't change his position, though, and neither did Carol.

"You can trust me," he said, nodding his head. "Always. I ain't gonna hurt you."

"I know," Carol breathed out. "I know. Not unless—I asked you to."

"I don't want you to ask me that," Daryl said. "Not as long as—we both got choices."

"I don't mean really hurt me," Carol said. She laughed to herself. Daryl could see her chest heaving slightly even in the dim light of the fire flickering next to them. "Maybe just—a little love bite every now and again, hmmm? Or—a little rougher sometimes because it feels good? Just between us—I kind of liked what I let you do with my ass…and we've got more of those that I wouldn't mind trying sometime, if you wanted to do it with me."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"See? Now I know my dick's behavior is outta my fuckin' control," Daryl said. "Because I swear my brain was just like—get hard—and that little asshole ain't so much as flinched."

"Poor thing," Carol said. She rocked forward and kissed Daryl's thigh before brushing her cheek against it.

"Poor fuckin' thing is right," Daryl said. "You wore my ass out." He moved to sit down, wearing his own blanket like a cape, just as Carol was. "It was good, though. Shit, it was good. You like it alright?"

Carol came and snuggled next to him. He hugged her, blanket and all, and adjusted himself so that they could return to cuddling on the pallet where they'd spent much of the day.

It was the last night of their honeymoon. In the morning, they'd leave the cabin early and a couple of prospects and some tarts would come in and do the laundry and clean the place—top to bottom—so that the cabin's owner couldn't possibly have any complaints about letting them have the place for their escape together.

Since it was their last night, Daryl had felt there was one thing that absolutely couldn't be ignored. Armed with blankets, he'd taken Carol out to the truck. Together, they'd done their best to navigate sex in the cab. It hadn't taken very long, though, before they'd both agreed that it was too cramped for either of them to really enjoy themselves and get quite what they were seeking. A quick intermission had seen both of them in the bed of the truck, using their body heat, mostly, to ward off the cold. In an attempt to make sure that she got fucked in the truck every bit as much as she could ever want, Daryl had done everything in his power to keep her warm enough—including nearly giving himself what had felt like a wicked case of lockjaw—until he could get a second wind to work through a few more possible positions in the truck bed. There had been a good deal of laughter, and at least one Charlie horse for him to work out for her, but they'd managed to make it a memorable enough affair that most of the local wildlife would probably shy away from the cabin for the rest of the night.

Now they were back inside, warm and snuggling again on the pallet together.

And Carol looked beautiful when she looked at Daryl like that—with just a touch of mischief twinkling in her eyes and spreading across her lips.

"Did I like it alright?" She asked. He hummed at her and nodded his head, dropping his hand to let his fingers run lazily along the warm skin of her hip. "You're the best husband that any woman ever had, Daryl. Did you know that?"

Daryl's chest tightened and he felt a familiar rush of warmth in his belly. He flexed his fingers, tightening their hold on her hip, before he began to gently massage her flesh again.

"When you tell me shit like that—just when you say it? Makes my whole body feel warm," Daryl said. "Makes my—mouth go dry. Damn near makes me dizzy."

She smiled and readjusted herself slightly, making herself more comfortable for the long haul. She rested her head on her arm.

"In a bad way?" She asked.

"No," Daryl said. "In the best way possible. Like—I can't believe anyone would think of me that way, but I sure as shit can't believe you would."

"It's true," Carol said. "I love you."

"I love you."

"And—I mean it. You're the best husband that anybody could ever have," Carol said. "And I know. I've been married before. That makes me an expert."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You only think that shit 'cause Ed was an asshole," Daryl said. "Makes me look good in comparison."

"That's not true," Carol said, just a hint of scolding in her voice. "Daryl—you make me feel so special. So—wonderful. You do amazing things for me. For me. Like tonight."

Daryl moved his hand and brushed his finger across her face—the unbruised side. He traced the scattering of freckles. He touched a tiny scar he feared was from some past trauma inflicted on her by a man she'd wanted to trust. He brushed his finger over the point where her top lip was pointed and, bringing it down a little further, he smiled when she puckered and kissed his fingertip.

"I hardly think fuckin' you in the back of a pickup truck makes me an award-winning husband," Daryl said. "Or—an award winnin' man, for that fuckin' matter. Carol—Ed fucked with your head plenty, and I hate his ass for that, but…you're a good lookin' woman. A damn good lookin' woman. And there's men all over Georgia—no—all over this whole damn country, that would give their eye teeth to fuck you just about anywhere."

Carol smiled as Daryl moved his hand to cup her jaw, allowing his fingers to curl around to the back of her neck.

"It's a good thing that only my husband gets to fuck me anywhere, then," Carol said.

"Stop," Daryl said, laughing to himself.

"I'm serious, though," Carol said. "It just—I enjoyed it. That's all. And it—it meant a lot to me that you wanted to do it."

"I already told you I'd fuck you anywhere and anyhow you wanted," Daryl said. "But—hell—I believe that's the first damn thing you've asked me for just outta the clear blue. And I like that. I don't want you thinkin' that I only wanna hear what I want comin' outta your mouth. I already know what I want. Sometimes I just wanna know what the hell you want."

Carol frowned to herself.

"I want you to be happy," Carol said.

"I want you to be happy, too," Daryl said. "Whether it's the house or—fuckin' somehow that you got in mind. Or—hell, even them love bites or that rough whatever kind of fuckin' you want—hell playin' with your ass, too…if you want it? I wanna know about it. Shit—at least we can try the shit, right? If we don't like it, we don't do it again. But I want to know what the hell you want—not just what you know I want. You understand what I'm tryin' to say to you?"

Carol nodded her head and hummed at him.

"I think I do," she said.

"Good," Daryl said.

"Daryl—at the risk of pissing you off…can I say something?"

Daryl's stomach twisted slightly, but he hummed at her. He flexed his fingers, brushing the back of her neck.

"I'd rather you didn't piss me off," he admitted. "But—I ain't gonna censor you. Go ahead."

"I just—wanted to say that…I know she hurt you. And I'm always going to be sorry for that and…I'm always going to hate her, just a little bit, for that. But—Daryl? I'm really, really glad that Livvy didn't know what the hell she had. And—I'm really, really glad that she didn't want to be your old lady and marry you."

Daryl's heart seized slightly at the words, but it wasn't the same kind of violent sensation that it used to have when someone mentioned Livvy. He swallowed, recognizing the rising lump in his throat, and he brushed his thumb affectionately against Carol's skin.

"It don't piss me off," he said. "Because I feel the same damn way. I'm—glad she didn't never look back. I didn't know it then, but I know it now. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this right here—miss you? I wouldn't have wanted to miss it for the whole damn world, Carol. Not for the—the whole damn world."