A Good Day to Die -
One shot Caryl smut. Daryl and Carol make the most of their time together before the war with Woodbury begins.
Tomorrow they might die.
Of course, it was true every day but recently it felt even more pressing. It wasn't enough that the Walkers were closing in ever further in the tombs, now every day might be the day the Governor rallies his troops and takes them down.
And that was why it happened. Carol decided she wasn't going to die without knowing his touch, without feeling his skin against hers, without his taste in her mouth. She knew he would never make a move so she instigated it. He didn't refuse.
She wasn't fooling herself that it was anything other than a last fuck of life. Frankly she didn't care. She had long ago resigned herself to her feelings for him and the unlikelihood of him returning them. Had it been another place, another time, she'd be shame-faced and considered her act that of a desperate, middle-aged woman. But the apocalypse wasn't the time for pride, or bashfulness, or social rules. She wanted him and she didn't think the crowd of Walkers beyond the fence were tutting her for her hussiness when she propositioned him in the yard.
It happened quickly. Fast, furious, fevered. There was no other word for it than a fuck. It was over in a matter of minutes. Her back against the wall, one leg around his waist, the other propping herself up on trembling tiptoe.
It was good. Oh, so good. The feel of him slamming against her, his hand gripping harder and harder onto her ass, pulling her onto him. It was glorious. Although, for her that wasn't the best part. It was the moments after he was spent, when he rested his forehead against her shoulder, panting against her skin. The feel of his breath at the base of her neck, his hand still cupping her ass, her arms wrapped tightly around his back - it felt normal, real, almost nostalgic.
It reminded her of her first few times when she was a senior at high school, before the boys had discovered the clit and the manners of helping a girl get off before plunging in and losing it all in 30 seconds flat.
She liked feeling young again. He did that. His shy looks, dipped head, blushes and smiles. It made her feel alive.
The next day they didn't die. And it happened again.
All it took was a long hard look from him and she'd known. She'd immediately dropped what she was doing and headed out to the same spot in the yard.
He was swiftly behind her, his crossbow thudding to the ground as she pushed his back against the wall and began to undo his pants. Moments later they were back in the same position, the corner of a bar sticking into her back as he lost himself in her.
The moments afterwards seemed to her to last longer this time. He stayed inside her until his breath slowed down and he slowly lowered her raised leg.
Yet, he never spoke. Never said a word. Not that he was Mr Talkative at the best of times, and really his hard cock and swiftness of release said enough. Still, she had to bite her own tongue.
Her head was filled of too many things to say to him, ask him, reassure him, love him. But she knew it wouldn't help. What would he do? Say he felt the same and they'd live happily ever after? Hardly. Or more likely, act awkward and keep his distance until some merciful soul took her life. She didn't want them to go out like that.
This would do just fine. His warmth inside her, his fingernails dragged across her skin, his breath in her mouth. It was enough for today.
But today they didn't die either. And there was only so much preparation you could do. So they all spent the day sniping at each other, the tension pressing on them all like a thunderstorm.
Maggie and Glenn had a spat over Michonne; Michonne argued with Merle; Rick sniped at Merle; Merle sniped at everyone; Rick lost it with Carl; Beth lost it with them all for waking Judith, and he had almost shouted at her.
She'd banged into him and knocked his neatly arranged ammo flying while she was moving Judith's stuff out of the way. He went to curse and wave his arms until he saw it was her. Instead he just frowned and his arm hung awkwardly in the air for a moment until he rested it on her shoulder. It was the only contact they'd had in 3 days that didn't involve his cock. The thought made her smile.
Somehow though in a day spent waiting there was no time for them. No moment, no chance to slip outside.
So they'd all gone to bed, except for Glenn and Michonne on watch, when Carol slipped out of her cell. She took her boots off in order to make less noise, and hoped anyone who heard her would just think she was checking on Judith - which she did.
Judith was out cold, her chubby arms flung above her head, her chest rising and falling and gentle snores coming from her tiny mouth. Carol remembered Sophia at that age.
No, no, let's not go there, not right now, she told herself. There was time for those thoughts, when your arm was being chewed off or a bullet had ripped through your stomach. Only then would she lose herself to the past. Tonight it was all about now. This moment and any future ones she could grab.
She stood in the doorway of his cell. He was sitting on his bunk fiddling with an arrow, like the day she'd come to him after he returned with Merle. She had felt light, giddy then, giggling with him. It was different now. The air between them hung heaving.
She didn't flirt, fidget, tease or lean seductively against the door. She stood square in the frame, blocking what little light there was. But she could still make out his face. He nodded towards the bed.
He moved out of the way as she lay down, her head at the foot end. He moved to join her, checking the door in one last cautious look up. For a moment he simply hovered above her. She realised he was unfastening his pants as she heard the zipper. And then his hands were at her waist. He tugged at the hem of her top and pulled it up. She half sat up to help him get it over her head.
Well, this was new. But so was the creaking clang the bed frame made from the shift of movement. They both froze, her top caught up around her neck.
Nothing happened so they carried on. He whipped the top off and discarded it, put his arm around her cool back and laid her down.
Clang. It happened again, this time louder. The combination of an old spring and a rusty frame.
"Shit!" Daryl exclaimed with quiet anger. He climbed off her and off the bed.
The cool air made Carol feel exposed, physically and emotionally. Had she pissed him off? Was it because she giggled? Had she ruined it? Ruined it all? She started to feel the awkwardness she'd feared when she'd first decided to offer herself to him.
There was silence for a minute and then she felt it - his rough hand on her arm, searching for her hand in the dark. He found it and tugged on her gently.
She stood up and they faced each other in the low light. Her breasts exposed and dimpled, his pants hanging open. But she didn't giggle this time.
"C'mere." He whispered as he manoeuvred her into the corner of the cell behind the door. There was no light at all there and anyone passing would just see an empty cell.
He leaned over her, his hands either side of her head. It was so dark she couldn't quite make out his face, but she felt his breath on her lips.
She closed the gap between them and pulled his head against hers. She kissed him deeply, languidly, teasing and wet. Before this they hadn't really kissed, more panted into each other's mouths.
His tongue probed deeply into her mouth. She tasted tobacco. Before long his hands found their way onto her body, his fingers in her whispy hair. And then his right hand travelled down her side. He skimmed her breast with his thumb, danced his fingers across her stomach and reached for the waistband of her pants.
Undoing them swiftly, he pushed them down her legs, his lips never leaving hers. Oh she wanted it, but also she didn't. Too soon, too soon it would all be over.
But he surprised her. It was his hand that pressed between her legs, not his cock. She shimmied to shift her pants further down and let her open her thighs a little more.
He cupped her. The heel of his hand pressed against her clit as his fingers probed. She was wet, already slick and sticky. That made him smile against her mouth.
He rocked his hand, two fingers pressing deep into her, alternating with delicious pressure on her clit. She began to moan and grind her hips.
As her moans built it was his turn to giggle.
"Shhh you'll wake the whole neighbourhood." He pulled his hand away all too quickly. Dammit she was close. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of him licking his fingers. Oh God, it made her knees almost buckle just the thought of him enjoying the taste of her.
"Turn around" he whispered and she heard his pants fall to the ground. She kicked one of her legs out of her pants and turned to face the wall. Knowing what was coming she arched her back and moved her legs further apart.
And then he was inside her. It was less painful this time, less tight and tense. She was ready for him and she met each thrust with her hips.
The angle was breath taking and she felt it building quickly. It was a long time since she'd come with more than her own fingers working fast on her clit. This was better. So much better than she remembered. The warmth spreading, the almost numbness and the fullness inside her. She tried to hold on to the feeling as long as she could as the waves began to crash over her.
She must have been moaning loudly because he put his hand over her mouth. She bit onto his finger as she came hard against his cock.
When she came back down to earth she realised he was still, his cock inside her. Had he come? She hadn't noticed. He kissed her shoulder and that's when she felt his cock twitch inside her. He wasn't finished, he was merely stemming the flow, delaying the end like she had.
But it wasn't long before he began to grind against her, slowly but firmly, lazy circles which began to quicken. She reached back and pulled his ass towards her. It was the only signal he needed.
His hands left the wall and he cupped her breasts, standing her almost upright flush against his body. He squeezed her breasts hard and began to thrust and buck upwards into her, gasping loud and wet at her ear.
He bit her shoulder, growling painfully and she knew he was close.
He kissed her neck and panted against her cheek.
"I fucking love you, woman." He whispered before moans took over.
She grasped his head to her neck as his thrusts became erratic and hard.
"I love you too." She moaned back but she wasn't sure he heard as she felt his come spread warm inside her.
And she wondered in her haze, maybe today was the day she'd died.