Sorry this has taken so long to update, I just got sorta stuck to be honest.
But! hopefully it's not too bad.
(also! if anyone is interested in a Zombie Apocalypse Rpg on tumblr, lemmy know, Because I happen to have one!)
Thanks so much for reading and drop a review if you will! Means the world!

_.+._

Soft, open mouthed kisses were pressed against the corner of her neck as she curled against his chest, his knee brought up between her legs.

How long had he yearned to be in such a place as this? To have her close to him?
Years, it seemed.
His entire life. She rocked against him, groaning in satisfaction as she did causing him to groan simply from hearing her utter such a groan.

"Shh…" he chuckled lightly, his hand coming to brush up against her mouth, She bit down on it lightly- her eyes wide and sparkling with happiness, lips flushed from their favored kissing.
He ran his rough hand up the satin of her thigh, wallowing in the feel of her skin against his. She opened her mouth, but what came out was not her cry of passion- but the cry of another, the cry of a young boy screaming in terror.

Daryl sat up so quickly that he bashed his head upon the bottom of the top bunk in his haste to be by the boy's side.
He was dimly aware of Carol behind him, hasting to get dressed as he pulled the tie on his belt- bare feet on freezing cold concrete.

"The hell are you doing to him?!" he nearly screamed, panic filling his voice in a way that he hadn't anticipated.
There was a small crowd gathered in front of the cell that Michonne had taken as her own- given the fact that it was during the middle of the day, the boy must have been put down for a nap by the woman.
(Michonne seemed to like the boy… Daryl thought that Micah just liked her because they shared the same skin color. No one doubted the boy was his though, something in which he was quite proud of.)
(Even if he didn't show it)

"We didn't do anything." Rick stated calmly, stepping back from the door.
Inside Michonne was trying to calm down the boy who was huddled in corner of the bottom bunk, tears streaming down his face as he screamed.

The smell of urine hit his nose sharply as he entered the cell, sweet almost- like maple syrup.
(Why the hell little boy piss smelled different than normal everyday person piss, he wasn't sure.
Hell. Even Asskicker's piss smelled different from Micah's piss)

"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!" screamed the boy, his hands falling in front of his face as he tried to protect himself from Daryl's wrath.

"I did-didn't me-mean ta'ta we-we-wet the bed. PLEASE!" He screamed at Daryl with a vice that near shattered his eardrums. "Don'Don'Don't want the be-elt!"
Michonne stepped backwards, her eyes slipping from the boy to Daryl as he scooped the boy up.

"Hush…" Daryl cooed, looking at the boy as he placed him over his shoulder. "Just wet the bed, that's all." He sighed, soothing circles into his back.
"Ain't yourfault. Ain't getting the belt." He whispered- his rough hand wiping away his tears. "No more belt, I promise."

Daryl knew that sting all too well, the slap and the waiting that horrible waiting that you felt as the belt was raised and it slashed through the air.
It was a feeling that was so horrible, it caused him to feel as though a dagger had been shoved between his ribs and thrust into his heart upon hearing and seeing that his boy feared this.
It had been months that he (and Carol- when Daryl was just in over his freaking head) had nurtured the boy, it broke his heart just a tiny bit to see him so terrified over the idea that Daryl might beat him.

The boy sobbed out into his shoulder as Daryl ran his hand over his dark head.

"What's got you so upset hmm?" Carol asked, nudging her way through the crowd of people with a roll of her eyes.

"We-wet the-the be-bed." The boy whimpered, looking up at his mother with big shining black eyes.

"No big deal." She smiled softly and gracefully. "Daddy'll get you cleaned up, ain't that right?" she asked Daryl.

"Yop." Daryl nodded, walking back through the crowd.

"Don't ya'll have something more productive to do with your lives?" he asked gruffly, brow furrowing and cheeks tinging red as he followed Michonne's gaze down to his long since mutilated feet, each with a toe missing in the middle and the end.

In the terror of the moment, he'd not realized that he had run out of the cell both bare chested and barefooted, baring all his scars for the world to see.
Shame flared up through his body as it usually did.
Carol was the only one he let see his scars willingly.
Sure, Hershel had seen them, so had Rick at one point or another.
But to Daryl, the marks across his skin represented a part of his past that he would never be able to forget.
Never be able to fully overcome. His father had made sure that he would never be able to erase the marks of his abuse-

So who was he to try and erase the marks another man had placed on this boy?

"Go on now." Rick stated, ushering people out of the way so that Daryl could deal with his son, giving Daryl a pat on the shoulder. (causing Daryl to flinch at the contact on bare skin.)

Michonne looked at him coolly before spinning on her heel and gliding away.

"Come on bubba." Daryl sighed, heading back towards his cell shaking his head not unlike a dog as he tried to rid himself of such thoughts.

"Later." Carol whispered in his ear in passing, her hand ghosting over his ass fondly.

He snorted, a smile creeping onto his face.
"Damn right later." he grunted back, knowing full well he'd hold her to it.