Chapter 3: Cartography

Inside, the room was lit with the warm flicker of a dozen candles, stuck in bottles, dishes, and a few candlesticks, and there was a faint scent of honey. In the center was a nest made up of a double stack of mattresses, every blanket and pillow she could borrow, and a thick down comforter printed with garish roses. At Daryl's bemused look, Carol said, "That god-awful thing is courtesy of our good friend Rick, who helped make all of this happen and even arranged to get us some extra covering. It's ugly, but it's awfully cozy in this chilly room. I tested it, and it definitely does the trick."

"I think it's fuckin' beautiful." Daryl's voice was hushed, and his eyes were far away as he looked over the room. He turned and put his arms around her. "When did you find the time to do all of this?"

Carol grinned at him and said, "I've been a busy little bee. And your face right now - it was worth every minute, just for that."

"Oh, somehow I doubt that was all you had in mind for tonight, darlin'." His voice had grown husky, and when she looked up, his eyes were dark with need. She tipped her face up to meet his lips, and he kissed her, sweetly, holding back. "I know I have all sorts of ideas about how I want to spend the next - how long do we have?"

"About ten hours, maybe a little more. I tried to figure out how we could have a whole twenty-four, but…"

He snorted, and said, "Only if you want to kill me outright, woman. I don't think I could take a full day of lovin' you and not expire from exhaustion."

"We wouldn't want that, now, would we? We'll have to pace ourselves."

After the past weeks of lust-driven chase, they were both somehow peaceful, now that they could relax together without feeling like they had to cram days worth of sensation into mere minutes. Like they had all the time in the world, just the two of them.

He undresses her ever so slowly, peeling away each layer and kissing every piece of skin as it is uncovered. He finds that she is ticklish, but only at the backs of her knees, and he files that away for later consideration.

She presses her palms against his back, feeling his muscles ease as she strokes the tension from him. She traces all of his scars, discovering that some are deadened and others almost too sensitive to touch. For the first time, he doesn't flinch.

He resisted being blindfolded again, but was more than willing to let her bind his wrists behind him with a strip of fabric and hold him hostage while she slowly, exquisitely slid her mouth over his cock, flicking the flared head with her tongue briefly before engulfing him, making him groan, fuck, Carol, repeating the motions over and over again, taking him as deeply as she could stand. He shuddered as she dug her nails into his thigh, the pinpoint hurt pushing him past his control until he shot into her sweet hot mouth, the rush of sensation almost making him black out. When he could see again, her eyes were bright with triumph.

"You have no idea how hot it makes me, to do that."

"I believe I'm beginnin' to get one. Come up here and untie me, let's see what I can do to match it."

She'd never been more turned on in her life, straddling his dark head as he cupped her ass in both hands, then slipped one between her legs, gently spreading her lips and dipping his tongue to taste her. He slicked it up over her clitoris, teasing at the edge while his fingers slid into her, curling up to find the sweet spot inside. The other hand curved over her hip, came up to catch her fingers, interlacing them with his own, holding her fast as she rocked against his relentless mouth and gave in to the urge to scream as she came.

"Are you also keeping track of favorite positions, Daryl? 'cause that was a keeper."

At some point she thinks, oh, I am going to pay for this tomorrow, as he presses her legs wide and up over his shoulders and drives deep into her, the delicious friction of him ricocheting up through her until she feels like the top of her head might come off. The image makes her laugh out loud, the laugh turning into a bone-deep moan as another jolt flashes through her center. This time when she comes she arches so deeply she feels like her spine will snap, and she clutches him desperately to her, feeling him spurt inside. His weight on her is no burden; she makes a small, plaintive noise of protest when he pulls out, wanting to hold him tight inside her and never let him go.

They slept for a while, bundled under the ugly comforter; when Carol woke, most of the candles had burned out, and the few that remained guttered in pools of wax.

He wakes to find her leaning over him, her breath feathering against his skin, her eyes on his face. When she sees his eyes are open, she bends to put her lips on him; draws a line with the tip of her tongue, from the point of his shoulder, over his collarbone and into the hollow at the base of his throat, tasting the salt of his sweat, feeling him swallow against her cheek. Pursing her lips, she blows softly across the damp trail she's left, and he shivers and groans a little, punctuating it with a low laugh. "What are you doin' to me?"

"Making a map of my own," she smiles, even though she knows he probably can't see it in the dim light. 'Have to make sure the ink dries, so it doesn't smear."

When they left their hideaway, the gray dawn light was just beginning to show through the windows in the common area, and they put out their last candle, moving together through familiar spaces, not needing to see to know where they were going.

"Do you think we're done with all the sneaking around now, Daryl? I mean, it's been fun - believe me, I love the idea of grabbing you in the laundry room and…" She flashed a wide, wicked smile at him and tugged at his waistband. "But honestly? I'd like to wake up with you every morning, not only when we're on vacation."

"Yeah."

"Yeah? No argument, no hesitation, just - 'yeah'?"

"Yeah, as in, 'I'm too tired to think, and we should go to bed,' so - yeah."

"I think we just were in bed, Daryl."

"You know what I meant, smart-mouth."

She leaned over and kissed him. "Sweet talker. So, your place or mine?"

"Don't matter. Just so long as you're with me. And you stop talkin'."

"OK, but one last thing: what happened to your notebook? Did you give up on it?"

"Nope. Don't need it any more." He took her hand and laid it against his chest, tapping the back of it with his fingers. "I got all my notes, right here."