Another fill for the USS CARYL kinky/non-kinky drabble challenge!

Prompt: Blood Kink

Enjoy lovies, and again, I own nothing!

It was quick, sharp. A slice into her skin as she slipped on her way down from the tower.

It wasn't terribly deep, but she quickly gauged from the pain in her thumb that she was bleeding. She looked down at it, watched the red seep quickly from her skin and begin dripping onto the ground. Daryl was just lowering himself from the ladder after her, and she casually stepped to the side to give him room.

She didn't notice him grow close until his hand shot out to grasp hers.

He wasn't sure why he did it. It was instinct, he figured: an action he didn't really mull on before jumping into. He had a mere half-second to stop himself though, and the thought had just tried to cross his mind when it was shattered by the taste of blood in his mouth.

She only jumped when the heat of his mouth hit her thumb.

There wasn't much Daryl could do anymore that would surprise her. His getting close didn't. His hand darting to grab her own and pull it towards him didn't.

But his lips sealing over her digit, the hellish heat that hit the wound, the application of suction, the softness of his tongue as it pressed flat against the gash…

That surprised her.

She could do nothing more than stand there at the base of the tower and stare at his mouth.

Metal and sweat met his tongue. He didn't care, really. Something in the taste of it was familiar, enjoyable…

It was probably why he hadn't pulled her damn thumb out of his mouth and stepped away yet. Instead, he stepped closer. Flattened his tongue against the bleeding wound and reveled in the tinny tang, took a moment to appreciate how she stared at him, flabbergasted and heaving for breath.

He let his eyes linger on the rise and fall of her chest before raising his gaze to hers.

He sucked on her thumb again, tasted more blood.

His eyes felt heavy and his mouth threatened to quirk around her thumb at the shudder she produced.

His eyes were blown, dark and heady and Carol couldn't remember how long they'd been standing there and she couldn't bring herself to look around to see who might be watching.

Daryl was against her, flush, breathing hard through his nose and holding eye contact and his free hand was hovering just next to her waist; she could feel it, the heat of it, threatening to land, threatening to electrocute her through her shirt and maybe, she thought, it was never innocent to begin with. Maybe he knew exactly what he was doing the moment he'd done it…

His tongue rolled, flicked against the pad of her thumb and despite the sting of pain she moaned shortly, tried to catch herself and cut it off but-

He stopped. Jerked away as if her hand had suddenly burst into flames.

A tightness in his chest held strong and he blinked, recognized the equal tightness in his pants. Recognized the steady strum of needy adrenaline being pumped into his system.

She watched him, on edge but still concerned. Even as her eyes softened at him he could see her fingers twitch, could practically hear them calling him back…

And that half-moan of hers was set on repeat in his head.

Daryl swallowed.

Tasted the thrill in her blood.

Turned on a heel and walked away, nails burying into his palms and a thousand curses whispering into his brain.

She balled a fist around her injured thumb. It pulsed with pain and was probably still bleeding. Hershel would need to take a look at it.

She didn't move.

Carol stood and watched him slink away from her, an edgy embarrassment to his posture.

She hadn't missed how he'd licked his lips fully before whipping around to escape her sight.

She wanted to tell him he had nothing to be ashamed of.

And maybe she would…

When she finally found her legs again.