Okay, guys, this one's a doozy. What can I say? Naked Daryl requires a lot of attention.

A whole lot of attention. *cough, cough*

I could have split it up into two chapters, but it would break the flow of the thing.

But by all means, don't let me distract you. Let the drunken games begin ;)

I was getting real sick of walkers.

Daryl and I just couldn't catch a fucking break. We were just going to loot the neighborhood houses, and it was supposed to be quick and easy. The first house had been simple, only holding two walkers that we took down with no problems. I had found a few cans of food in the back of the kitchen cabinet, as well as a little surprise for later, but now, looking at the small herd of walkers that had amassed in the yard of the house next door, right in front of where we had parked the truck, I wasn't sure we were going to have a "later." There was no way for us to even make it to the truck without catching their attention, let alone getting in and driving away.

I cursed under my breath, steeling myself. Panicking was not an option. That was when the deadly mistakes were made. I took a deep breath through my mouth, wanting to hold off the overwhelming stench of rotting flesh that was permeating the air, and took a quick peek around the corner of the small shed we were crouched behind.

"Shit," I whispered, putting a sweaty hand instinctively on the hilt of my knife. I had only brought two with me today. The neighborhood we had been exploring was relatively clear, and I hadn't seen a need to take my whole set. It was easier to travel that way, and we needed as much room for supplies in the backpacks as possible. I leaned my head back against the shed wall, the rough wood threatening to pierce splinters in my back.

"Taylor."

I turned quickly at the soft hiss of my name, refocusing on Daryl crouched a couple feet away from me at the opposite shed corner, his crossbow out in front of him with a homemade bolt pulled ready. He took a few silent steps until he was next to me. I tried and failed to hold in a sigh of relief at his tense and ready presence, nodding once at him as the panic I was feeling at our situation subsided slightly. Daryl and I worked well together, and if I had to get through this shit with anyone, I was glad it was him.

His gravelly whisper helped to calm me even more. "How many ya got?"

"About a dozen, on my count. You?" I answered in my own soft whisper.

"Fourteen." He took another look around the corner before turning back to face me.

I swore, taking mental stock of our options. Besides my knives I only had a handgun, useless here when we didn't want to draw attention.

Daryl eyed me. "Ya ready?"

I looked at him, open mouthed. "Ready for what?"

"Don't know 'bout you, girl, but I ain't waitin' for them to find us."

I glared at him, annoyed. Taking on a herd, however small, with just two people was a death wish. "Well, I don't know about you, Dixon, but I wasn't planning on dying today, either."

He shot me a warning look at the volume of my voice. "Come on. Dumb to even try and take on all these sons o'bitches. I only got so much ammo. So we make a run for it. Get out to the truck and be on our merry fuckin' way." He glanced at me. "Or you can wait."

"That's the plan? Make a run for it?"

"Best run fast," he deadpanned.

I peaked around the corner as Daryl slung his bow over his back, replacing it in his hands with his hunting knife. I could see the truck where we had left it parked on the street, only about twenty feet from here, but those twenty feet were a minefield of walkers.

But what choice did we have?

"Ready now?" he asked, and even his whisper was gruff.

I shrugged, smiling at him even as my heart pounded a mile a minute. "Good a time as any, right?"

He gave me a nod, flexing his fingers over his knife, before tilting his head forward in a silent signal.

And then we were running.

I had only made it about five feet before I felt a moist, decaying hand of a walker grasping at my forearm, it's slick fingers trying to find purchase on my skin. I didn't stop, yanking my arm away forcefully. I could hear the heightened noise of the dead all around us, the telltale sign that they were eagerly anticipating a nearby meal. Daryl was still ahead of me, cutting away a walker that got too close before looking back to make sure I was still behind him as he ran around the truck to the driver's seat.

I fumbled clumsily with the passenger door handle, trying unsuccessfully twice more before I could get it open. I slid hastily into the seat at the same time Daryl put the key into the ignition.

Two walkers slammed into the car window, their fingers clawing desperately, their teeth clinking forcefully against the glass as they tried to reach their food, gray tongues leaving slimy trails.

I scrambled away from the window, my heavy bag forcing me to awkwardly fall against Daryl's shoulder. "GO!" I screamed just as the engine roared to life, the truck jerking forward as Daryl slammed on the gas pedal. I turned around, getting on my knees so I could look out the dirty back window. A few walkers were still stumbling toward our car, but most of the others in the yard appeared to only just be catching on that something had happened.

"Are ya bit? Scratched? Anythin'?"

I turned around as I shook my head. "No. I'm fine. You?"

I watched him shake his head that he was fine, sinking low in my seat in relief. I laughed, just a giggle at first, but I was quickly reduced to hysterics, the hype of our survival hitting me. Daryl, ever stoic, didn't join me, but I could see the smile lifting his cheeks.

"Know what the best part is?" I asked him, bringing my bag around to rest at my feet along with his crossbow. I shuffled through it, searching for what I had found in the house. My fingers grasped the smooth metal, and I pulled out the flask that I had been saving for just this moment.

I shook it in front of his face, and he looked at me for a second, his mouth crooked up in a disbelieving smile.

"And it's full," I laughed, shaking the bottle again.

Daryl hollered in a rare celebration, and my smile grew at the freedom and happiness I was feeling at leaving the danger, at least for now, behind us.

Tonight would be a good night.

We rode in a comfortable silence on the gravel trail that led to the cabin, occasionally asking a question about the supplies we had gathered and what our plans were.

The cabin had been a good find. It was good middle ground between the farm and hunting territory. Daryl had spotted it when he was out looking for Sophia, marking it out as a possibility for where she might be but making a note of it on the map. When Daryl and I had first gone hunting here together, days after the barn debacle, we had staked the place out for two days, waiting for someone to show, but no one ever had. There was no one on the inside, either, dead or alive, and judging from the thick layer of dust and the rotting firewood, it had been that way for quite some time. It was small, with only one bedroom, but as one of us was always keeping watch from the small front porch, it wasn't a problem. It was dated, smelled of mildew and nature, but it was good enough for us.

We didn't finish unpacking and counting up our loot until the sun came down. It wasn't until we were both on the porch, him sitting at one of the couple of stools set up on the table, me lounging on the floor with my back against the porch post, that I broke out the flask.

I unscrewed the cap, stretching my legs out in front of me before crossing them at the ankles. I took a whiff of the contents, cringing at the strong smell of whiskey. "Yeah, that'll definitely do it," I said as I took first a sip, then a gulp, coughing a little as it burned down my throat. I sighed in satisfaction. I had definitely missed that feeling.

He held out his hand impatiently, and I passed the flask over to him.

"We should do something fun," I said, watching as he took a swallow.

The corner of his his mouth went up in an appreciative smile at the flask before passing it back to me. "What ya got in mind?"

I paused while I thought, taking another sip of the whiskey. Shit was strong, and I could already feel the soothing and freeing effect it had running through my veins. I laughed at myself. I really needed to get that tolerance back up. Shouldn't be feeling a buzz, not yet. Before people had up and started eating each other, I had been a champ at drinking games, one of the last to be able to stand straight.

An idea came to me at the thought of drinking games. I looked at him, excited, standing up. "What about target practice? You against me."

He shook his head. "Drunk already, lil' girl?"

I hid my annoyance at his comment, resisting the childish urge to stick my tongue out at him. "Come on, Dixon," I crooned, smiling with false sugar sweetness at him. "Afraid of losing to just a 'lil girl'?"

"Ain't losin'." He growled. He was glaring at me from under his brow, but I thought I could sense a smirk just under the surface.

I took another swig of the stolen flask, savoring the tingling burning, then set it clumsily on the crooked table with a clatter. I would need the rest of my scattered wits about me if I wanted to win.

And I sure as hell wanted to win.

"Sounds like a challenge," I said, cocking my head. The beginnings of an idea were starting to form in my mind, brought on by the alcohol and the adrenaline rush from our narrow escape that day. "Here, I'll even make it interesting."

He leaned forward on the stool, supporting his weight with his elbows on his knees. He looked at me expectantly, his eyes watching me as I rested my head against the porch railing. "I'm listenin'."

"Strip target practice."

He forced a loud laugh, reaching for the flask. He raised it to his lips and chuckled again, giving me a sidelong glance as he took a gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ain't no way."

"Oh, come on," I whined, crossing my arms. I took a step forward so that I was standing in front of his seated figure. "We got enough game for the camp. Our asses are still bite free, against all odds. And," I added, quickly swooping down to snatch the flask from his hand before he could stop me, "we got happiness in a bottle right here." I swished the half empty bottle in front of him, smiling. "Things don't get much better."

He stood up suddenly, moving alarmingly close to me. My alcohol dulled senses had my reactions slowed, making me feel almost stuck. As I tried to stand straight with some semblance of grace, I couldn't stop the meandering path my eyes took down the open V of his unbuttoned shirt. My breath caught a little in my chest as I fought a sudden and unfamiliar urge to touch him, the flask shaking slightly in my unsteady fingers.

But then he had taken the flask back from my outstretched hand, breaking my trance. I took a stumbling step back, turning so I wasn't facing him, shaking my head hard. What the hell was that about? I turned around, plastering a smile on my face, hoping to erase the jitters that had formed low in my stomach.

I had always been attracted to Daryl, sure. Something about our natural chemistry had drawn me to him from the beginning. But I had shoved it to the back of my mind, never giving it much thought. There were far more important things, and I wouldn't risk screwing things up between us. I most certainly had never entertained the thought of acting on it.

But even so, there was still a nagging thought, a persistent feeling about tonight. Maybe tonight... maybe tonight, with the relief and the celebration and the whiskey, I wouldn't stop myself from letting things get interesting.

Or maybe I was crazy.

I shook my head again. It had been way too fucking long since my last drink, I reasoned. Body didn't even know how to handle the alcohol anymore.

I watched him as he took a couple lengthy steps, walking past me to the far side of the porch. He lifted himself onto the railing so he was sitting, facing me. He took another drink, the moonlight glinting off the metal of the flask. I took a deep breath, then went over to sit next to him, a healthy couple inches away. I let my legs swing, trying for the comfortable ease between us that had nearly always come so naturally.

He broke the silence. "Fer one, I don't need practice."

I laughed, open and easy. "What, and I do?"

"More than me."

"Well," I said as I hopped off the railing, walking backwards and trying through the alcohol haze to look sly, "if you're so damn sure, I'll make it even more interesting." I stopped at the stairs, raising a hand to crook a finger at him, trying to draw him outside. At some point, the suggestion had become more than a joke. I wanted this to happen, and I was almost certain that the threat of losing would get him to play along.

He scoffed at me, but dropped off the rail anyway. "You're drunk."

"So are you. Feels good though, doesn't it?" I stepped lazily down the stairs. "Haven't been this way since the CDC."

He followed me down, watching me carefully. "Yeah, I guess," he agreed before he stopped at the bottom of the steps. "I ain't fuckin' playin'."

"So, you're scared?"

He gave me a look that could kill. "Ain't what I said."

"Well, that's all I'm hearing. Fine. For the sake of your insecurity, I'll start at a clear disadvantage." I took a deep breath, bringing my hands to the bottom of my t-shirt. The buzz of alcohol had my confidence high, but while things were still slightly fuzzy, my head was mostly clear. This decision was mine, and before I could rethink it, I pulled the shirt up and over my head, dropping it on the dirt at my feet.

I looked up to where Daryl was standing, ready for some kind of reaction, but he had turned around so his back was to me.

"Daryl," I said, my voice filled with disapproval. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Are you?" He turned his head, looking at me over his shoulder, and then quickly faced forward. Not quickly enough, though. I could see the vivid red on his cheeks from his blush. "Put your goddamn shirt on."

"I don't really think you get the point of the strip in strip target practice, Daryl. Clothes go off, not on," I said, sarcasm positively overflowing, but I was worried. I didn't know exactly what reaction I had been searching for, but it wasn't this. He wasn't supposed to be fucking embarrassed.

"Ya don't start with your shirt, neither."

I looked around, my eyes falling on the side of the shed near the line of the woods. Someone, before the end of the world, had spray painted on the back of it: "KEEP OUT."

I walked over to him, gripping his shoulders and turning him towards the shed. "How gentlemanly of you. Look. Pick up your bow. Stand right there. And see if you can shoot inside the O."

He looked at me in disbelief, raising his arm to point at it. "Inside the O? Best ya got, girl?"

I crossed my arms, distinctly aware that this was possibly the worst bra I could be wearing. It was comfortable, practical, keeping me in place without strapping me down, but I had worn it so often and through so much that the fabric had been worn very thin. "Just fucking shoot it, Dixon."

Finally, I had pushed all the right buttons. He swung up his crossbow, holding it steady in front of him. He took another glance at me before aiming and pulling the trigger. Not to my surprise, the bolt hit dead center of the circle.

I clapped my hands, applauding him sarcastically. "Good job. My turn."

He held his arm out to his side in a be my guest gesture, walking a few steps away and putting the tip of his crossbow to the ground. I came beside him, bringing my knife out of its hilt. I debated whether or not I should show off, twirl it through my fingers, but I was afraid of what the alcohol had done to my finer tuned coordination. I settled for just throwing it, bringing up an arm, looking at my target.

Just as I was about to throw, I let my gaze go to Daryl. He wasn't doing anything, just standing, but just like before, I was overwhelmed by the sensation that I was stuck in his presence. I was struck by the desire to touch him, and not just fucking clasp his shoulder, either. I wanted to feel the lines of the muscles on his arms, really have a chance to run my hands over him.

I turned back to the shed, flustered, hoping he hadn't noticed anything strange. I threw my knife, but I could already tell it was a bad throw, that it wasn't going anywhere near the target. I cringed as the blade dug only an inch into the wood, about a foot away from the letter I had been aiming for, wavering for a second before dropping pathetically to the ground.

I hung my head in shame while Daryl nodded his head, looking at me smugly. "The hell kind of throw was that?"

"I got distracted," I moaned, running my hands over my face. This was not fucking happening. I was not suddenly rendered incapable just because he looked good.

"Come on, then," he said, pointing at me. I could tell he wanted to laugh.

"Fuck," I grumbled, leaning down to untie the laces of my shoes, slipping them and my socks off. I stood up straight. "I think you might have cheated," I complained, hugging myself as I frowned at him. "You still have all your fucking clothes on and I'm down to shorts and a bra." Without a shirt and shoes, it was feeling a lot chillier than it had at the start.

"Even drunk, I'm a better shot." He smirked at my shivering. "Ya got three turns left."

At his smirk, I raised an eyebrow, quickly planning a retaliation. I wanted to make him feel what I had felt. "Two turns," I corrected, holding up two fingers.

He looked at me with his brow furrowed, confused. His eyes moved down my body quickly, assessing the clothes that were left. His gaze shot back up to my face as I took a few steps over to him, stopping when I was only a couple centimeters away, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. He stayed completely still as I leaned in closer to him so my mouth was by his ear, making sure to keep our bodies from touching. My heart and mind racing with a little thrill, I whispered, "Who said I'm wearing underwear?"

I skipped a few steps back, laughing. Even if it was a lie, the look on his face and the slow blush creeping up his neck was worth it. His gaze seemed frozen at some spot on the ground.

But then he looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and my laughter immediately died off. There was something in his gaze I had never seen before, a hunger, a desire that brought back the jitters I had felt earlier in full force. I was stuck once again under his stare, and I couldn't stop my eyes from flicking back down to his lips again and again, the line of his strong jaw, the trail of his stubble.

I blinked hard and cleared my throat, loud and awkward. He quickly looked away, the red at his neck more pronounced as his jaw clenched. My breathing was coming fast and shallow, and I searched on the ground for something, anything to do with my hands. I spotted my knife, and I walked quickly over to it, picking it up off the ground.

"Okay," I said, my voice coming out higher pitched than usual. I cleared my throat again. "Let's try again. Further back this time. And you have to hit where the lines cross in the T." I pointed to the spot I meant, then walked back to where we were aiming from.

I tried to ignore the sparks, the urge to touch him, but I couldn't. It was a primal instinct that had me come up beside him as he was aiming and, without even really knowing what I was doing, resting a hand on his flannel clad back, letting my fingers trail over his shoulder until they were resting on his thick bicep. I felt the muscle twinge as he nearly twitched, his bow jerking as he pulled the trigger. The bolt flew, landing above the words.

"Talk about fuckin' cheating, ya threw my aim off!"

"Seriously? I barely even touched you." I shifted my weight onto one leg. "Here. You can put both your hands on me, and I still won't miss."

He stared at me stonily, eyeing my outstretched arm. I held it there for a second longer, but when he didn't take me up on my offer, I focused on the task at hand.

This time I hit the T with pinpoint accuracy. I threw my arms in the air in victory.

"Know what that means?" I smiled, going back to the shed to yank his bolt and my knife from where they were deeply imbedded in the wood. "You've got a choice to make... What's it gonna be? Shirt or pants?" I laughed, a little nervously. I was beginning to see the dangers behind this. Daryl wasn't exactly a man of many words, but I had picked up on enough dropped hints over the months to figure out his home life hadn't been the best. Even on overnight trips like this one, I had never seen him anything less than fully clothed, and I had no idea how this shit was going to go over.

He didn't make any movements, only looked at the ground, and I sighed. "Don't you trust me?"

He kept his gaze down, and I stepped forward again, trying to duck my head down to catch his eye. Something had changed. This didn't feel like a game anymore. My fingers were still tingling with the memory of the feel of his arm, and my synapses were all screaming at me to find a reason to touch him again. The way he had looked at me... I was sure he had felt it, too. And I was equally sure that if I could break through that infamous Dixon defense, I could get him to respond.

He took a step back when I had made it about a foot in front of him, looking at me in near alarm. I stopped in my tracks, holding my hands in front of me in a surrendering gesture. We stood, both still, both waiting for the bluff to be called and the game to be continued. But I was done playing.

When it looked like I wasn't in danger of spooking him further, I spoke, softly, as gently as I could, "I need you to trust me now." I leaned forward and took the crossbow from his hands, setting it gently against the porch stairs. On my way back up, I took his hand.

I looked up at him, holding his hand in both of mine. I could see the debate raging in his eyes as he stared down at our hands, his normally unreadable face giving me barely intelligible signs of emotion: the veins in his neck became more pronounced as he clenched his jaw tight, his lips parted, his breaths deep and ragged, his eyes narrowed not in anger but in questioning confusion, as if he wasn't positive this was really happening.

I guided his hand to my left hip, prying open his fist so his fingers were splayed against my skin. He held me stiffly, awkwardly, unsure, but he didn't let go.

Encouraged by my success, I inched forward, taking small steps until the space between us was minuscule. I brought my hands up to the bottom button of his shirt, slowly pushing the button through the hole. I chanced a glance at his face, but he was still looking at the progress my hands were making as I moved onto the next button. I worked hesitantly, waiting for him to protest, sure that any second he was going to pull away from me, but I couldn't stop. The want I was feeling for Daryl was nearly uncontrollable, some dormant fiery need that I hadn't ever felt to this degree before but was certainly not to be silenced now. I wanted so many things, needed to feel his skin, wanted to experience the texture and taste of him.

When his shirt was undone, I carefully placed my hands on his taut abdomen, lingering on the scar still visible at his side from where his bolt had pierced him through, letting my nails graze against his nipples as I slid my hands up his chest, coming to a stop at his neck. I stroked the line of his jaw with my thumbs, taking my time to look at him, my eyes flitting from his chest to his neck, but always back to his lips. I yearned to kiss him, taste him, put my lips everywhere, but I knew I had to let him adjust.

"Taylor," he said when I finally looked into his eyes, his voice thick.

I touched his lower lip with my thumb, surprised at how soft it was, so different from the pleasant roughness of his scruff. He was watching me carefully, and I let out a breath as I moved my hands so they were around the back of his neck.

"Just...just touch me, Daryl. Don't think," I said in a whispered plea. I rested my ear against his defined chest, listening to his heart beat, steady and dependable, as I waited for him to make his move.

I was rewarded for my patience when he placed his other hand on my hip so that he was holding me, his fingers hesitant as he squeezed me tight, his fingertips digging into my flesh, thumbs grazing the waistband of my shorts. He pressed me forward, gently, as if he wasn't sure if I would follow his lead. I let the line of my body meet his, and even through his all consuming warmth a shiver went down my spine, my nipples hard against the thin fabric of my bra.

He wasn't moving nearly fast enough, though, and finally, I couldn't take it anymore, the tension, the want, and I leaned on the tips of my toes as I brought his head down so I could press my lips to his. This first kiss was sweet and innocent, a question and an answer. I pulled away, keeping my face close to his as I looked into his dazzlingly blue eyes, hoping that it was okay. There was a drastic change there to what I had been seeing all night: there were no reservations, no raging wars or decisions left to be made. I saw the same desire that was coursing through my veins reflected back at me. I took a shaky breath that was interrupted when he dipped his head back down, reuniting our lips for a kiss that went much deeper. I opened my mouth, encouraging more as I ran my tongue over his bottom lip. I only had to wait a second before I felt his tongue gliding against my own, and I eagerly let him take control. His hands traveled down from my hips to my ass, pausing only slightly before letting his fingers slide into the back pockets to press me harder against him. I dropped my hands from his neck to his shoulders, trailing down his chest to his sides so I could pull myself even closer to him.

I was thrilled that we were here, that he was holding me like this, that he had caught on so quickly to what my body had been near screaming for all night. Kissing Daryl felt so good, so very right, that I couldn't help the involuntary smile that formed against his mouth, enjoying the feel of his lips moving with mine. He took the opportunity to let his kisses trail away from my mouth, leaning down so that he could nuzzle against my cheek, his goatee tickling against me, until his lips were at my ear.

"Get up here," he grunted.

I leaned away, confused by the demand. Before I had time to even ask a question, he had brought his hands out of my pockets, caressing me as he moved his hands down so that he had a grip on the backs of my thighs. I squealed as he suddenly picked me up, hitching my legs around his waist. I was taller than him now, my chest level with his head. He kept his arms firmly around me as he looked up at me.

I was breathless as I stared back down at him, tangling my fingers in his hair and massaging gently. I hadn't expected this of Daryl, this take charge version of him that I had come to respect and trust in the time that I'd known him.

But as he gripped me tighter still, keeping his eyes on me as he lowered his lips to the space between my breasts, his lips tasting the small beads of sweat that had gathered there in the feverish heat he was forcing, I wasn't about to argue. I did trust him, every facet of him, had learned to lay everything on the line with him again and again and believe that we could make it out. Even now, being with him like this, I was fully ready to place myself in his capable hands, and judging from the way the swell of need building low in my stomach, my body was in complete and enthusiastic agreement.

I was caught off guard again by the sudden feel of his tongue taking a slow, burning lick around the edge of the cup of my bra. I threw my head back at the sensation, my fingers yanking onto his hair for leverage and support as he followed the lick through, leaving broad, slick strokes right over my still hardened nipple that I could easily feel through the barely there material of my bra. I was thankful for the thin coverage the bra provided, glad I had some kind of defense against my constant inner mantra of faster, faster, more and more, the pleasedon'tstops as he switched to my other breast. I groaned, my stomach clenching as I brought my head forward to watch him, surprised to find that he was already intently watching me.

He smiled slightly, the side of his mouth quirking up as he took in the helpless expression on my face. "Ya want more?"

I felt the heat of a blush rise from my chest to my face. Apparently, my mantra had been less in my head than I thought. But, I couldn't bring myself to be embarrassed. Instead I leaned down, pressing my forehead against his.

"I want everything," I said, my voice coming out throaty and needful.

His demeanor changed at this, and I could tell my words had unlocked something in him. The look in his eyes was a pure and delicious cocktail of sex and desire, a promise that had me entirely on edge. He didn't break his gaze as he moved his head back to my breast, my attention completely rapt as he ever so gently clamped down on where my nipple was obviously pressing against my bra with his teeth, tugging slightly before the fabric loosened free from his grip. My mouth opened in a gasp that came out as a high pitched whimper.

As soon as he released me I leaned back down, resting my cheek against his temple as I tried to regain my senses and my breath. Everything I had been feeling, every want and desire and need, was now absolutely pulsing through me, consuming me, coming to an electrifying end between my legs with every heartbeat that shook me to my very core. I felt him take one step back, then another, until he was leaning against the porch, his arms going slightly slack as he propped himself against the wall.

I fucking needed more. I was about to start dry humping this man, I was so desperate for some kind of satisfaction. I let myself slide from his grip, bringing my legs from around his waist so that I could drop to the ground onto my unsteady legs. He was letting his head drop back against the rail, his eyes closed as his chest heaved, bringing my attention to the very obvious bulge he was now sporting.

I hooked my fingers into his belt loops and yanked him forward at the same time I leaned against him, letting our hips come together so that I could feel his hardness more solidly against me. His eyes immediately shot open, and he looked down at me. I took a second to stare back, trying to convey how much I wanted and needed this to continue, before releasing his pants so that I could push his shirt down his shoulders.

Before I let it drop all the way off, I pulled it tight, trapping his arms. I took a step back, pulling him with me.

He eyed me hungrily, and I could tell he was debating whether or not he would let me take control, but he didn't protest as I led him up the porch stairs. Ever pragmatic, he grabbed his crossbow on the way, not putting it down until we were inside the house.

I dropped his shirt, pulling his hand and tugging him towards the bedroom. He grabbed onto my waist, pulling me to him and bending down so he could catch me in a kiss. We stumbled drunkenly backwards, our mouths clashing repeatedly as I grabbed at his belt buckle, my nails leaving scratches in my haste.

We were nearly to the bedroom before he pushed me back, hard enough so that I was forced against the wall right next to the door. He immediately followed through, placing himself extremely close to me, putting his hands on the wall on either side of my head, effectively trapping me. I looked up at him, biting my lip as I dragged my hands up and down his chest, loving the way he was looking at me as the sparks flew between us.

He leaned down, kissing me almost bruisingly hard, his tongue demanding entrance to my mouth. I let him, allowed his dominance as he teased his tongue into my mouth again, his hips grinding sensuously against me in time with his tongue. I moaned into his mouth, dropping my hands to his firm ass to keep him against me. I nipped at his bottom lip gently, pulling it between my teeth, and he growled at me as he took hold of my waist and guided me over and back into the bedroom, never breaking his mouth from mine.

We were angling towards the bed, but I had other ideas. I didn't know if it was the alcohol still helping me not falter, or if it was just the way he was looking at me, but I wanted to escalate this.

I broke away from him, taking a few steps until my back was against the cluttered, dusty desk that we had never bothered messing with. I sat up on it, crossing my legs delicately in front of me as he looked at me blankly. I gestured with my head for him to come forward, and he immediately obeyed, putting his hands on my thighs and running his fingertips under my shorts. I reached up, putting my hands on either side of his head, and brought him even closer, licking the line of his jaw as his fingers came ever higher under the jean fabric.

"You look sexy," I said, kissing him again by his ear, "and I want to watch."

I kept my hands on his head, turning him so that he could see the dresser mirror across the small bedroom. We were very clearly reflected on the mirror's surface, every inch of both us and the desk I was sitting on. My face was flushed, my long brown hair tangled and crazy, but Daryl was all I could look at. I watched his face change as he took in our image, watching my shorts ride up as he flexed his fingers, pressing forward so that his chest was against mine. As his eyes met mine in the reflection, I could tell that we were both on the same level, more than just turned on. We needed this, together, needed to sate our equally desperate thirsts.

Suddenly, his hands were gone from my legs as he reached around me so that I was caged between his arms. I watched the muscles there tense as he roughly cleared the desk, the lamp and books falling with a loud crash that I couldn't quite seem to hear from within the protection of his arms. As soon as the desk was emptied, his hands went to my back, trailing up until his fingers found my bra. I wrapped my arms around him, my nails digging into the back of his shoulder and eliciting a groan that I felt rumble in his chest. I cut him off, pressing my lips to his eagerly, inviting his tongue, loving the heavenly sensation of it running against my teeth.

I uncrossed my legs, opening them so that he could stand between them, and he grinded against me, making me moan against his mouth. After a few seconds of fumbling, I felt the clasp of the bra open, and I carelessly shrugged it off and threw it away, not breaking our kiss.

I pulled him with me as I slowly inched backwards, more and more of my back making contact with the cooled wood of the desk. He put a hand behind my head just before I had laid down completely, giving me a soft landing, his hands trapped underneath me. He kissed me once more before breaking away, keeping his face close to mine, our heavy breaths intermingling, the warm skin of his chest making contact again and again with my breasts, keeping me on edge. He straightened slightly as he gently let my head fall to the table, his fingers threading and brushing down through my hair until he reached my shoulder. I was frozen in anticipation, watching his face as his fingers trailed over my shoulder, tracing over my collarbone, touching every dip and curve, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

He brought his hand from around my back, sliding it to my waist, while the other hand left my collarbone to do the same. His hands moved up my body in tandem, not stopping until he had reached my breasts, his thumbs making wide circles around the underside, bringing small shivers and goosebumps over my body as he came ever closer to my nipples. Each circuit he completed had me needing more, and my hips started to thrust slightly in time with his thumbs' circular movements, my hips threatening to leave the table the table. He was watching my body, watching the way I was reacting to him, his eyes traveling to my hips, down my shaking arms to where my hands were gripping the edges of the table, needing something to release the tension that he was causing.

I moaned as he suddenly took each of my nipples between his thumb and finger and pinched, hard, their sensitivity forcing the pain and pleasure higher, sending an electrifying jolt that went straight between my legs.

My moans didn't stop as he immediately replaced one of his hands with his mouth, his tongue soothing as he took a nipple between his lips. His other hand held my breast in its entirety, his palm warm against me as he cupped me. I released the table, grabbing instead onto his hair, pulling it hard between my fingers, holding him against me. I brought my feet up so that they were against the edge of the table, allowing me to use the leverage to thrust harder against him, feeling his hardness come against me, making me nearly scream with how badly I wanted him inside me. He responded with a guttural groan of his own, his movements halting for a moment before he bit down on the side my breast, hard enough to leave a bright red crescent shaped mark.

My back arched at the pleasant agony, my whole body clenching as my shoulders came off the table, my legs wrapping around him. He didn't give me a break, keeping his mouth on me, his tongue running over the already fading mark before covering me with kisses, working in the general direction of my neck.

His hands left my chest, following the curves of my body until he reached my shorts. He clawed at them, slipping his fingers under the waistband and tugging hard. I fell back down eagerly and lifted my hips, helping him to pull both the shorts and underwear down my thighs, letting them drop to the floor as he placed his hands on my bare hips, gripping me tight. I gasped at the rush of air against me, but he cut me off as he kissed me, hard, passionately. I brought my feet up to his hips, trying anything in my desperation tug his pants down.

He broke away from me, standing up straight, ignoring my cry of protest. He slid his hands down from around my hips, squeezing my ass before letting his hands travel slowly down my thighs, running under my knees. He stopped there, cupping my calves as he pushed my legs up. I caught on, letting him position me, resting my feet on his chest, sighing at the feel of his rough jeans against my slit. I was so tender, so sensitive, that his touches felt so good they hurt.

He brought his hands to his pants, making quick work of the buckle, pushing both them and his boxers down. My mouth practically watered at the sight of his hard, thick, long cock. I wanted him, wanted him inside me, slamming against me, but he wasn't moving.

"Daryl," I pleaded, not caring how pathetic I sounded.

He leaned back forward at my voice, his cock sliding against my slit, making me squirm as he reached his hand toward my face. He gingerly took hold of my jaw, turning my face so that I was looking at the mirror.

"Watch," he commanded, no room for question in his voice. At the tone of his voice, I whimpered again, moving my hips so that he slid against me again, his head coming into my folds against my clit, making my body clench again.

I loved the reflection staring back at me in the mirror, loved seeing his muscles ripple, nearly came undone at the sight of him grabbing onto his dick and rubbing it against me. Experiencing it was one thing, but watching the involuntary reactions of my body, the way my back came off the table, the way he roughly grabbed onto my thigh to keep us both steady, was entirely another. His eyes locked onto mine, and we both watched as he slid easily and completely inside of me.

He bowed his head forward once he was all the way inside of me, the angle allowing him to thrust deep, his eyes closed, both of us breathing hard as we adjusted, a moan at the edge of my every breath. I watched our reflection as he slowly pulled out of me, my eyes on his outline as he thrust back into me, harder. There was no hesitation now, no time to let my breathing go steady as he pulled out and pushed back into me, both his hands on thighs, entering me again and again and again.

"Oh, GOD," I cried as he slammed particularly hard into me, reaching my hands over my head so I could grab onto the edge of the table, trying to disperse some of the overwhelming pleasure I was feeling. I turned to the mirror, hoping for some kind of distraction so I could hold off my already impending orgasm until I was sure he was ready. My breasts were moving in time with his thrusts, the table absolutely shaking under our combined efforts, the legs occasionally squeaking when a hard thrust would force it to move against the hardwood floor. Both our bodies were slick with sweat in the thick, still air, the heat only adding to the intensity. I could feel myself getting close, every thrust causing a sporadic clench around him.

I looked up at him, but his expression wasn't helping me hold on, either. He was watching himself go inside of me, the look on his face absolutely primal. I let go of the table to throw my arm over my eyes, then bit down on my closed fist hard, fighting against a scream.

"Shit," he grunted, and I looked at him. His eyes were closed tight, his head tilted toward the ceiling. Suddenly, he let go of my thighs to grab onto my calves, and he lifted them until my ankles were resting on top of his shoulders.

We both moaned at the new angle this gave him, allowing him to thrust even deeper inside of me. He moved with newfound passion, never ceasing, every movement hard and urgent. I could tell he was close, the look of focus on his face, the little bit of tongue he had sticking out from between his lips.

His eyes shot from the mirror to my body to my eyes. "Ya close?"

I nodded my head vigorously. He had no idea how hard I was fighting, how much I wanted us to finish together, how every time his cock slid deep inside me, filling me so completely, it got harder to keep it together.

"Come, Daryl, come inside me," I begged, needing him to come over the edge.

I heard him groan, and I couldn't take it anymore. I threw my head back, not caring how it slammed against the desk. I grabbed back on to the edges, needing something, anything to hold on to as my orgasm hit me, hard, wracking through my body as I spasmed. He thrusted against me once, twice more, my slit pulsing and clenching around him, before I felt him stop and finish deep inside me, the sensation renewing my pleasure and causing another string of unintelligible mewls and expletives to fall from my lips.

We both stayed where we were, the aftershocks rolling through both of us causing an occasional shudder. He let his head fall forward, then turned it to place a surprisingly gentle kiss on the side of my knee as he pulled himself out of me. I let my legs fall from his shoulders, sitting up gingerly, holding onto his biceps to keep from falling over. I rested my head against his chest, feeling both of our bodies settle down, our breathing evening out. I took another look at us in the mirror, how connected our bodies were, before closing my eyes and sighing.

"That...that was," I mumbled, trying to come up with the words to accurately describe the overwhelming satisfaction I was feeling. I laughed once, the sound muffled from his chest. "I'm exhausted."

I could hear the chuckle resonate in his chest, his thumbs making circles on my thighs absentmindedly. "Get to sleep."

I was in full agreement, ready to succumb to the extreme tiredness I was feeling, but the post sex bliss was starting to fade a little. I still felt the pleasure throughout my body, could feel the nice kind of soreness resonating through my limbs, but I felt a little seed of doubt in my mind.

Would we sleep together? Would he take his usual spot at the couch?

He put a hand on the small of my back, pulling me with him as he took a step back. I dropped down from the desk, nearly collapsing on my shaky legs. He caught me, supporting me as he wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in his warmth.

I shouldn't have been surprised that he was helping me, taking care of me. He was Daryl, rock solid in nearly every way, dependable. But this, this tenderness, wasn't something I saw very often. When he was like this, open, it wasn't often the result of something positive, and nearly always had harsh consequences when he shut himself back off. I had seen him break down over the loss of Merle in Atlanta, had watched him struggle with the ever persistent hope of finding Sophia, had my heart break when I saw him hold Carol back from her lost daughter, but it was a rare thing to have all the barriers come down in a moment of raw satisfaction. I wasn't sure if the circumstance would hold off whatever response he had to his vulnerability when the pleasure wore off.

We both fell back onto the bed, his arms around me as I fell on top of him. I rolled away, pulling his arm with me so that it was around me when I settled on my side. I smiled to myself, quietly thrilled that he hadn't mentioned leaving me. I intertwined his fingers in mine, kissing each of his knuckles.

I only had a few more moments of consciousness, enough to feel his lips at my shoulder, before drifting to sleep.

I woke up to the feel of Daryl's rough, yet gentle fingers tracing hesitant shapes on my bare back, leaving my skin tingling in the wake of his touch. I was facing away from him, lying on my stomach, but I kept my breathing steady, not wanting to break the moment by letting him know I was awake.

I let my eyes sliver open. Sunlight poured in through the cracks between the boards on the windows, warming the room and illuminating the dust floating in the air. Judging by the golden light, he had let me sleep in.

Any other morning, it might have been nice. But I had a feeling that there were going to be unpredictable repercussions for last night.

I closed my eyes tight, trying to ignore both the beginnings of a headache and the onslaught of snapshots from the night before: his lips, his tongue, his hands, his...

The same ugly doubts that I had begun to focus on last night returned even stronger than before. I had no idea how this morning after would go, or what we were supposed to do now.

Not to even mention how stupid and reckless we had been. No condom, no protection, nothing. I hadn't even fucking told him to pull out. It had been worth it at the time, perfect, because there had been no room for worry between us. But now? Last thing I needed was a pregnancy. I concentrated, mentally checking my inner calendar, trying to do the math. I would know in a matter of days, I guessed. No sense killing myself over it in the meantime. I pushed the seeds of worry to the back of my mind.

I tried to distract myself, wondering silently how long Daryl had been awake. Man had an internal clock that never failed. I had never known him to be in bed past dawn before, and he tended to be even more strict on hunting trips. Then again, we had never been in this situation before.

I was broken from my tired reverie by the sudden removal of Daryl's fingers from my skin. I felt him shift away from me, taking some of the thin sheets with him so that my leg was left uncovered. I braced myself, my heart sinking.

"This shit ain't happenin," he muttered under his breath. He sat up, the mattress rising slightly in his absence. "Get it the fuck together." He gingerly pushed himself to the foot of the bed, barely rustling the covers. I heard the clink of his belt as he pulled his pants on. He cursed under his breath quietly as he left, leaving me to listen to the soft padding of his fading footsteps disappearing down the hall.

When I was sure he was gone, I sighed, sitting up on my elbows to look around blearily. I rubbed my eyes, trying to gain alertness. I searched the bedroom lazily, eyes examining the room that was almost exactly the same but now felt entirely different. Same faded blue walls, same cracked and sagging armchair in the corner, same collection of dusty clothes in the closet, but the sight of the broken pile of clutter at the floor of the desk was new. I couldn't stop my blush as I remembered exactly why we had made that mess, the way his arms had flexed as he shoved the lamp and rest of debris off the surface. I could see the slight grooves in the hardwood floor where the desk feet had scraped against it because of our actions.

My head snapped back to the door as Daryl came back into the room, newly dressed in yesterday's clothes, a twisted walk of shame. He froze in the doorway when he saw that I was awake, his fingers that had been fiddling with a ball of fabric he was carrying stilling as his blue eyes met mine. His arms fell awkwardly to his sides as he stood, immobile. An unspeakable understanding of the night's events and the changes it brought came between us, and his eyes flickered away before he took a step forward so that he was standing in front of the foot of the bed. I looked down, feeling my whole body flush in embarrassment. I instinctively raised the covers up to my shoulders, tucking my leg back under them so that I was less exposed.

He tossed the fabric he had been holding next to me, and I realized he had collected my shirt and shoes for me. He paused at the doorway, raising a clenched fist to the doorframe as he took another glance back at me. "Get dressed. We gotta go."

I nodded quickly, a lock of tangled hair falling in my eyes. He took another moment, his stare unreadable and intense, before facing forward and disappearing down the hall.

I sat up all the way, letting the covers fall around me, and held my slightly pounding head in my hands.

What on earth was I going to do now?

I got dressed quickly and quietly, taking a last look at the dresser mirror before I left. I felt like it was a T.V., as if I could press rewind and replay the events it had witnessed last night. I shook my head as I leaned down to tie my sneakers tight, trying to rid myself of the notion.

We packed silently, both avoiding each other's gaze as we loaded up the truck. We left the flask sitting on the table.

Half an hour later, we were on the road, driving down the bumpy hunting path. I was grateful we had brought it this time. I didn't know what I would do if I had to deal with trying to walk all the way back to the farm with Daryl, a full backpack, and a giant elephant along with us.

I rested my elbow on the frame of the door window, holding my head up in my hand and watching the trees give way to fields.

When we reached the highway leading back to the farm, Daryl cleared his throat. I turned to look at him. The sun was behind him, outlining his figure in sunlight, and I squinted so I could see him. He was leaned back in his seat, gripping the steering wheel with one outstretched, muscular arm. Fuck. I wanted to jump him all over again, and the knowledge that I couldn't combined with the nervous feeling in my gut about what his silence meant was making me irrationally angry.

"What?" I snapped, facing forward.

"Nothin'," he muttered. "Just sayin'..."

He trailed off, feeding my irritation. "Just saying what?"

"We were drunk."

And there it was, the denial I had been waiting for. It wasn't a question, but simply a statement of fact, an explanation that left no room for argument.

I nodded my head curtly at him. "Yeah. Drunk."

I felt him looking at me for a second before he switched his attention back to the road.

The rest of the ride was silent.

Phew. I know, I know, not happily ever after. Daryl makes things complicated. Hey, if you're mad (or if you're not) take it up with a review. :)