Title: California King
Disclaimer: Very much not mine.
Summary: They'd never had a room, a bed, to themselves.
Note: Based on a prompt by kijikun: First time having sex in a bed.
It kind of turned into a PWP.
Andrea stands in the middle of the room and smiles at him. "This is… different."
"Hmm," Daryl hums. He pushes on the mattress, testing out the bedsprings. "Can't remember the last time I slept in a real bed. Never one this big, either."
"I know," she says, fiddling with the unmade covers. "California King, I think. Nice sheets, too."
Dropping the crossbow by an end table, Daryl crosses the room to close and lock the bedroom door. She watches as he goes to each window and peers out. "Looks clear out there. I think we'll be all right for the night."
"Good." Andrea moves closer and reaches for him, letting her fingers trail down the front of his shirt. "So… when's the last time you got laid in a real bed?"
His eyebrows jump, and he starts a slow grin down at her. She toys with a button on his shirt. "Uh…" He watches her pop the button before moving onto the next one. "Never?"
"Really?" She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and rises up on her toes, wrapping an arm around his shoulder while the other continues to unbutton his shirt. "We'll have to fix that."
They'd had sex before; a fair amount of sex, in tents and cars and pressed against cold, unforgiving brick walls. They'd never had a room, a bed, to themselves, though, before a hitch in their supply run plans that afternoon had forced them to seek shelter in the abandoned house.
Andrea plans to take full advantage of their predicament.
She kisses him softly, just the press of her mouth to his as she finishes with his buttons and pushes the dirty flannel off his shoulders. He shrugs out of it and removes his undershirt as well before moving back to her.
She drags her mouth across his and down his jaw, his neck, collarbone. She goes slowly, letting her tongue flick out to taste him as she peppers kisses across his damaged skin. Her hands lead the way, the pads of her fingers tracing the network of scars like roads on a map.
Daryl sighs, and she can feel the slight tremble that runs up and down his spine when she flattens her tongue against his nipple. One hand tangles gently in her hair, the other gripping her hip hard as he tries to control himself under her ministrations.
She hooks her fingers into his belt loops and walks backwards with him until the backs of her legs hit the mattress, and with a slight tug, she falls back, Daryl landing sprawled on top of her. The bed creaks slightly under their weight.
"Oof," he says, and she giggles.
She kisses his jaw and then his mouth, letting him push his tongue past her lips and teeth to tangle with her own. His hand slips under and up her shirt to her bra. He thumbs her nipple, making her sigh and arch, and he moans softly into her mouth.
He puts a hand on her hip to scoot her further up on the bed, rubbing against her as he follows and slips his thigh between her legs. She whimpers and reaches for him, kissing him deeply.
His hands smooth up her sides, dragging her shirt with them, and she stretches her arms out behind her to let him pull it off. He holds her wrists together with one hand and keeps them above her head. She squirms, and he smiles against her neck before making his way down to her chest.
Andrea can tell he's going to try to make things difficult for her, so she wraps her leg around his and flips them quickly, taking him by surprise. She looks down at him from where she's straddling his waist and grins.
"I'm driving for a little while," she says breathlessly.
"Yeah," he gulps. "Okay."
She physically moves his arms over his head and crosses them, giving him a look that suggests he better not move them. "If only this bed had posts," she muses.
"What, you think I'd let you tie me up?"
"I know you would."
With one hand, she reaches back to flick her bra open and slides it down and off her arms. Daryl stares, licks his lips, and though his fingers twitch against the sheets, he doesn't move.
Bending over him, she kisses his mouth and lets her breasts brush against his chest. He bucks slightly, trying to press more of his skin against hers, and she bites down gently on his bottom lip.
Andrea sits back up and scoots backwards, putting her hands on his belt. He watches carefully as she slides the worn leather through the buckle with practiced ease and moves to pop the button and slide the zipper on his pants open. He moans when she cups him through his underwear and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. She does it again, squeezing lightly, before tugging his pants down and freeing his erection.
She wraps a hand around his cock and strokes him once, twice, before bending to swirl her tongue around his head and take him into her mouth.
"Jesus," he whimpers. "Fuck."
She hums a response and flattens her tongue along the underside of his dick before sinking her mouth down on him again. Her cheeks hollow as she bobs her head up and down.
Andrea works him with her hands and her mouth until he suddenly grabs at her hair. "Stop," he grunts, his voice urgent. "Fuck. You gotta stop."
He pulls her up by her arms and flips them, hovering over her, trying desperately to get his hand into her jeans.
"Goddamn it," he growls. "Why the fuck are you wearing pants?"
She laughs and helps him remove them, unbuttoning and unzipping, pushing and kicking until her legs are free. He hooks his fingers in her underwear and pulls them away, too, and then she gasps as he cups her between her legs.
Daryl strokes her gently with one hand, the other on her hip, and bends his head to lick and suck along her stomach and chest. He enters her with one finger, then two, his thumb rubbing at her clit, and bites gently at her nipples. Her back arches, and her muscles spasm around his fingers.
When her breathing slows a bit, she reaches for him, tugging at his shoulders and opening her legs wider to let him settle between them. He kicks his pants off his legs and presses her into the mattress.
"Wait, hang on," he breathes. He leans up on one elbow. "Fuck. I need a thing."
"My back pocket," she says, pushing against him. "I came prepared."
Daryl laughs under his breath as he reaches for her discarded jeans. "Guns, knives, rubbers. The fuck Girl Scout troop were you in?"
"I got more merit badges than anyone," she says.
His fingers shake, so she takes the foil packet from him and rips it open before rolling it down his erection. He kisses her, positions himself at her entrance, and thrusts into her.
She cries out and brings her legs up to wrap around his waist. His kisses get sloppy as he pistons in and out of her, his breath coming in ragged gasps against her cheek. She bites lightly under his jaw, on his pulse point, and he moves faster, fisting a hand in her hair.
Andrea reaches between the bodies to rub a finger against herself. Her muscles tighten around him when she comes, a breathy shout right next to his ear, and it's enough to push him over the edge, his fingers gripping her hips hard.
He bites on her neck and continues stroking into her as they ride out their orgasms, before he finally pulls out and flops onto the mattress beside her. He turns his head to look at her and she does the same. She grins.
"Holy shit," he says.
She removes the condom and tosses it into the wastepaper basket near the bed, then pulls the covers up and over their bodies. She turns into him, resting her cheek against his chest. He moves his arm around her shoulders, letting her tuck herself in closer.
"I could get used to this whole bed thing," she says against his skin. "You sure we have to head back in the morning?"
He strokes her hair, his eyes slipping shut. "Maybe we'll tell them we ran into trouble."