All too soon Daryl was completely clean, and there was no reason for him to stay in the shower other than sheer hedonism. He filled his mouth and spat out a final spout of water, then shut off the tap.

That was when he realized his mistake: he had been so distracted by Glenn and his stupid, adorable body that he had forgotten to bring a towel into the shower with him.

"Fuck a duck," he cursed under his breath. Steeling himself, Daryl swung the door open and stepped, naked as a jaybird, out onto the bathmat. He pretended to ignore Glenn as he reached a towel down off the rack, but really every fiber of his body was focused on the kid standing at the sink in a pair of blue jeans, shaving-cream lathered all over his youthful jaw. Daryl dragged the terrycloth over his dripping body, masculine, indifferent, like a guy in a locker room.

"Ow. Shit." Glenn wiped the excess lather from his face with a handtowel, then leaned over to tear off a piece of toilet paper and dab at his neck.

"Fuckin' genius, you are," Daryl grumbled, wrapping the towel around his waist and turning to eye the substantial nick on Glenn's throat. The kid tilted his chin up obediently. "What is this, like your second time shaving? Christ on crackers." Daryl grabbed the wad of tissue out of the younger man's hand and pressed it against the cut, scowling. Blood bloomed in a scarlet flower through the paper. "Think you hit your goddamn jugular," he groused.

Glenn let forth a wheezing laugh, still staring up at the bathroom ceiling. "'Shaves Drunk'," he joked unsteadily. "It can be my Indian name."

Daryl lifted the soaked toilet tissue to see if the bleeding had slowed, realizing for the first time, in the haphazard fashion of drunken cognition, that he was only slightly taller than the younger man. His knuckles brushed Glenn's clavicle. The kid's skin was burning hot, still damp from the shower. He smelled like soap and shaving lather and a musk that must have been Glenn's own scent. A rivulet of blood escaped the cut and trickled down the younger man's neck.

Without thinking, Daryl leaned forward to lap up the trail of fluid with his tongue. He had moved on to nursing the nick itself when he realized what he had done. He stared over Glenn's shoulder into his own blue-gray eyes reflected, wide with horror and panic, in the mirror above the sink. His brain was screaming for him to get the fuck off, but the signal seemed to be taking aeons to reach his nerve endings.

Then, unexpectedly, Glenn sighed and cupped one hand around the back of Daryl's head. This simple, sensual reaction sent desire shooting through every cell of Daryl's body. He grasped the kid's shoulderblades, watching in the mirror how his fingertips dug into the smooth skin around the bone. He suckled Glenn's neck eagerly, as he would nurse a cut on his hand, but he would never stroke his own injured flesh so tenderly with his tongue. The salty copper taste of blood swept through his mouth and seemed to flood straight toward his groin. His hand slid down Glenn's back, ragged nails dragging angry red lines into the skin. To his surprise, the kid arched his hips against him and grabbed Daryl's towel-clad buttock, pulling their pelvises together.

"Oh, fuck," Glenn murmured slurringly. He released Daryl's ass to fumble with the fold that held up the other man's towel, his intent clear.

"Fuck!" Daryl echoed, flinging himself away and into the main room. He re-fastened his towel, then dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He took several deep breaths before he managed to turn and look at Glenn.

The kid was leaning back against the vanity, clinging to the lip of the countertop as if taking one step away from it would plunge him into an abyss. An almost ridiculous erection tented out the fly of his jeans. His hair hung down in shaggy, damp locks across his forehead. He chewed his full lower lip nervously. At least the bleeding on his neck had stopped. "I thought...Well, you-" Glenn's voice cracked, and he fell silent.

Grimacing, Daryl interlaced his hands behind his head, stomping up and down in front of the doorway. At last, defeated, he barked out a miserable laugh. "I am so fucking wasted," he grunted. That was when he realized that Glenn's almond-shaped eyes were roving over his exposed torso, lips parted in the distraction of desire. Daryl took a step forward and slammed his palm against the frame of the bathroom door. "What are you looking at?" he shouted. "Ya goddamn fa-"

But he could not finish the word, not with the kid's sweet face crumpling in pained anticipation of the slur; he seemed to Daryl, even with his anguish-ridden gaze, absolutely fucking adorable. The older man closed the distance between them and crushed his mouth against Glenn's pouting lips. His fingers tangled roughly in the younger man's thick black hair. The kid moaned and relaxed his jaw to allow Daryl's tongue into his mouth. He sucked the probing muscle eagerly.

It was not like kissing a girl, not even like kissing Tokyo Rose; the texture of Glenn's mouth was rougher somehow, although he had just shaved. He tasted of wine and liquor and tomato sauce. His hands roved over the older man's chest and belly, and Daryl let out a sobbing noise when the kid gently tweaked one of his nipples. His erection pulsed hungrily. At last Glenn broke from the kiss to bury his face in Daryl's neck, burning the tender flesh with his half-laughing, half-panting gasps. "Not gonna lie: this is definitely the most fun I've had in weeks."

"Ain't over yet, hon," Daryl drawled, kissing his way down the younger man's torso. "Goddamn, you sexy thing." He was on his knees and undoing Glenn's fly before the kid seemed to realize what he intended.

"Whoa, seriously? I...ohhhhh." What might have been a protest trailed off as Daryl carefully took hold of Glenn's shaft and caressed the velvet-smooth flesh. He placed his lips just around the tip, gingerly, and swirled his tongue once, unsure how much of this taste was unique to the kid's cock. He worked his mouth a little farther down. It was amazing to him how different this felt from Rose's condom-wrapped prick: so hot, so hard, and yet so soft at the same time. Daryl relaxed his throat, just like Rose had shown him, and drew the kid's entire length in.

"White boys rock," Glenn murmured deliriously.

Trying not to laugh, Daryl circled his fingers around the base of Glenn's cock and tugged gently on his foreskin to expose the sensitive head. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the kid's knuckles going white on the edge of the countertop. Daryl took a deep breath, let it out, then pressed forward until Glenn's tip nudged the back of his throat. Glenn moaned, almost theatrically loud. The older man pulled back with his lips and tongue, sucking hard. The kid's whole body swayed with him. Daryl wished he were better at this; he wanted to make it good, make the younger man beg for more and scream his name, but he simply did not know what to do.

What feels good to you, baby? Rose had asked him. Do what feels good to you.

It sounded easy, but Daryl had no idea how to do those little things that girls (and then Rose) had done to his prick to make him feel so good. With no better ideas, he sucked Glenn's length deep into his throat again and heard the kid groan with pleasure. Daryl's erection twitched with trimph and lust. Deciding to play to his strengths, he began to bob his head back and forth, softening his palate to allow Glenn's tip to snub against the back of his throat with each thrust. It was not the most technical of approaches, but it seemed to be getting the job done. Glenn was humming needily; he would gasp from time to time as the flat of Daryl's tongue stroked him. One of his hands was dancing just above Daryl's head, wanting desperately, the older man knew, to grab hold of his short-cropped hair and control the pace. He sped up in response, nervous of his teeth at this rhythm, lips and cheek muscles beginning to burn.

"Ohlikethatdon'tstop," the kid begged urgently. Daryl worked his cock at a frantic pace, and when Glenn suddenly froze, shuddering with pleasure, the older man let out a groan of joy to match the kid's own.

His prick throbbing with need, Daryl was wondering what else Glenn would let him do to his lithe frame, when the kid spurted into his mouth. Startled by the hot, thick, salty fluid, Daryl swallowed reflexively. He did not move for a moment, unsure whether swallowing another man's come would make him puke. Finding that his stomach had nothing to contribute to the dialogue, he happily returned his attentions to Glenn's softening member. He stroked and suckled it, observing the process with the familiarity of his own body's responses. He sat back on his heels to get the full picture: Glenn, mostly naked except for the jeans around his knees, flecks of spit and come in his pubic hair, bare chest heaving, one hand tangled nervously in the dark hair on top of his head. Daryl could think of at least eight acts he wanted to perpetrate on this poor kid and his gorgeous slim body.

"Christ, I am a fucking rice queen," he muttered.

"Huh?"

oooOOOooo

A/N: Moar? Let me know!