I don't know why I keep going for these one word titles. I must be turning into the Pet Shop Boys.
Anyway, this poured itself out of me, and insisted on being written over two nights, I don't know why, but you can sort of see it as a contrast to the latest chapter of In His Own Image. Its already pretty much written so hopefully it will act as an apology, if not an aperitif, to those waiting for an update to Weeds. A warning though, this is very, very dark smut compared to my other work so, although it will get happier, do read with that in mind; this is a coarser and perhaps more callous version of Merle than my other stories, although I don't necessarily think that makes him a bad guy.
Maggie gripped the bars tightly and let out a low moan as he slammed back into her, the pleasure-pain of it searing across her nerves. She could feel the cold metal against her cheek contrasting with the heat of his body against her back, and the burn of his thick cock stretching her. Maggie clenched around him, taking back some small measure of control, and was strangely satisfied to hear him groan a little in return. If she wasn't so far gone in lust and arousal, she might be slightly horrified at her reaction.
After all, she certainly wouldn't be fucking Merle Dixon if Glenn was still alive.
Poor, sweet, boyish Glenn, always trying to be the leader he worried he wasn't, like he still needed to earn the right to walk shoulder to shoulder with Rick and Daryl. It had been Glenn who had made the fateful decision to take Michonne to the Governor, and Glenn who had released her only to find her taking his side against the small army he'd brought with him. It had been Glenn therefore, who had bravely tried to take down as many of the Governor's troops as he could, even attempting a shot at the Governor himself.
Of course, it couldn't work. Sometimes Maggie wondered if he'd ever expected it to.
Waiting anxiously by the gate, it had been Maggie who first read the look on Daryl's face when he returned alone; the one that told her Glenn wasn't coming back, the one that hinted that Glenn had needed to be put down. She hadn't even wondered about Michonne. She had walked straight back to her cell then, ignoring the arms of her father and sister as they reached out to comfort her, shutting herself in her cell and ignoring all consolation for the rest of the day. Grief she could handle, she had handled it since before the world went to hell, but for some reason she found her emotions ambiguous, and the grief mixed with guilt and rage meant she was in no shape to heal.
Her wounds were poisoned further when she overheard that they hadn't even killed the Governor with their sacrifice.
The next day she emerged, still clearly grieving but outwardly coping. What else could she do? Her sister, even her father still depended on her. The Governor would be coming soon, so she pretended to be taking strength from the thought of vengeance; it was strange how everyone accepted the explanation, no matter how simplistic it sounded to her. She knew the true complexity that existed within her, the turmoil; every inch of her felt raw and exposed. She existed in a state of pain she hadn't realised was possible.
Maggie needed relief, and she sought in the best way she knew how.
She wasn't successful at first. Knowing Rick's fragile mental state ruled him out, she tried Daryl instead; this was a dreadful mistake. She had lured him down to one of the cleared areas of the tombs on some pretext, only to press him against the wall and kiss him, pushing her breasts against his hard chest.
He'd flung her off with such violence she'd cannoned rather painfully into the opposite wall. "Wha' tha fucks wrong wit' ya?" he'd yelled, looking disgusted as he wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, "He ain't hardly dead yet an' yer fuckin' aroun'?
The force of his reaction having stunned her, Maggie had stared at him blankly, unable to explain. Daryl had stared back for a long moment, cold blue eyes narrowing, before he added in a marginally softer voice, "Ya need ta sort yer shit out, Maggie, an' this ain't tha way."
Picking up his fallen crossbow, he left her alone in the dark.
Maybe he was right to be disgusted; Maggie barely understood her motivations herself. She only knew that she needed to feel something, nothing, anything other than this… this gnawing sense of wrongness. Even as she carried out her chores, spoke to the others, kissed and held her family, she felt like she never stopped screaming inside her head.
Then she'd noticed him.
Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say she noticed him as a man, as something other than Daryl's abrasive, redneck brother. She watched him for a while, and the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. He wasn't particularly handsome, but she could see he was strong and muscular, which she liked; it should be enough. Of course, there was his personality to contend with, but Maggie knew she wasn't looking for affection; even if she had been, she doubted he was the man to give it.
No, she needed him to give her something quite different, and the one benefit she could see of his being an asshole was that he was unlikely to refuse.
Like Daryl, she nearly got her head bashed in when she tackled him. Perhaps that was her fault though; she wasn't exactly straightforward. She'd seen him leave his post in the tower and head off for his usual patrol. Maggie could only guess it was some leftover habit from the military when he did this; most people were glad to stop watching the endless tide of walkers and come straight inside for food and rest. Not Merle though.
She'd stalked him all the way round to the recreation yard, where she watched him walk inside and fiddle with the iron barred gate. Walking quietly up behind him, she been shocked to find herself suddenly whirled around and thrown none too gently against the door. She didn't even have the chance to draw breath before he was pinning her tightly against the gate with his powerful body, the bladed stump resting just by her head and a heavy forearm pressed against her neck. His small, blue eyes burned brightly into hers, and he was close enough for her to smell his earthy, male scent; it wasn't entirely unattractive.
"I don't rightly know why ya followin' me, Bo Peep, mebbe ya thinkin' I wronged ya somehow, but if yer thinkin' ya gonna take me down, yer gonna have ta up yer game a whole..."
"Fuck me," she said clearly, her eyes holding his.
For a moment he looked angry, but then the frown changed to one of confusion.
"Fuck ya?" he queried, as though unsure he'd heard her correctly.
"Fuck. Me." Maggie stated with greater force, and to ensure there was no misunderstanding, she punctuated her sentence by reaching down and firmly grasping his dick through his pants, roughly massaging the heat of it. The thought flitted across her mind that at least as far as size was concerned, she'd made a more than satisfactory choice.
Merle's eyes widened in surprise then narrowed again, but she didn't stop touching him; he looked at her like he still wasn't sure if she was crazy before he grunted suspiciously, eased his weight off her and went for his belt.
At least she couldn't accuse him of being a tease.
Hands trembling with adrenaline, and perhaps no small measure of surprise that she was going ahead with this, Maggie quickly began to undo her own pants before shucking them down along with her panties. Looking up, she saw Merle's pants had dropped also, revealing not only that he went commando but that he was already half hard. She felt her mouth go dry and her pussy get a little wet at the thought of him pumping that inside her, and at last the endless spiral of thoughts and feelings in her head started to quieten, already becoming fogged and softened by lust; she glanced up to find Merle watching her, eager and lustful but still slightly unconvinced.
"Suck it," he dared, his rasping voice deeper, more authorative, but unable to prevent that note of disbelief creeping through. Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees in front of him.
Well, at least Merle proved to have one attractive feature. He wasn't much longer than average but he was thick and lightly veined; Maggie licked around the edge of the purpling head to gage his size before she sucked as much of him in as she could, getting wetter at the intake of breath that hissed through his gritted teeth as she did so. She had always loved the feel of a hard cock in her mouth, and eagerly traced her tongue along the throbbing veins. She was surprised and pleased to find he must have washed only that morning, leaving her with only the taste and smell of fresh sweat and musk and the emerging tang of precum. She brought up one hand to tug gently on his balls, while the other tightly circled the base of his shaft, and she heard Merle groan quietly, deep in his chest.
She knew she was good, and when she finally flickered her tongue in the sensitive slit at the tip of his cock she expected the thrust he gave into her mouth before she pulled away, letting his rock hard member pop out wetly from between her swollen lips. She looked up to find his eyes darkened and his breathing heavy.
"Fuck, girl, shoulda known wit' yer pa bein' a preacher ya'd give head like a fuckin' pro."
Her lips curled scornfully, and she raked her nails roughly down his thighs before she ducked her head and sucked him in again, causing Merle to let loose a long groan. His fingers threaded lightly through her hair as he fucked her mouth with surprising care, and it was only when she finally relaxed enough to swallow him down to the root that he suddenly swore lowly and pushed her away; she was pleased to hear another hiss from him as his saliva coated cock left her mouth and hit the cool breeze.
"Get up. Get up an' turn 'round."
There was no time for thinking anymore, the only feeling left was the slow burn of desire in her gut; it was such a beautiful relief. Allowing him to hoist her up by her arm she staggered, pants still round her ankles, and clutched at the bars of the gate, waiting for what came next. Almost as soon as she was balanced, she could feel his heat behind her, and the rustle of clothing as he kicked her legs as far apart as the fabric of her jeans would allow. It didn't allow much room, but she couldn't wait to to feel his hot, wet cock pushing between her thighs. She was surprised when she felt the rough scratch of stubble against her ass.
Her head snapped down to see Merle rubbing his face into her buttock, clearly intending to eat her out.
"Don't Merle," she warned, "just fuck me."
Merle looked up at her, eyes narrowed and questioning, but he stood up. "No harm in tryin', girl. Ain't no pussy as sweet as country bred an' chicken fed..."
Maggie snorted in disgust and turned her head away from the man. She needed a fuck, not some false display of tenderness or caring.
At last she felt his blunt, swollen head running along her slit, teasing her clit endlessly before finally probing at her entrance. Mindless, already soaked and desperate, Maggie arched a little more into him, feeling the slightly coarse brush of his furred thighs against her before Merle finally slid into her with a moan, not pausing until she felt the slap of his balls against her wet flesh.
Muscles suddenly slack, Maggie let her head drop back as she focussed purely on the the delicious burn and stretch of her pussy, the sense of heat and fullness that came from having Merle's cock buried deep inside her. The thought flashed through her mind that nice as it was, Glenn's cock had never filled her like this, but she pushed the thought away. She was glad that Merle was scorching the memory of Glenn's touch away. She didn't want to think about Glenn, not now, maybe not ever.
Meanwhile, Merle barely allowed her a moment to adjust to his size before he was moving inside her; some short questing thrusts at first, assessing the depths and angles that could be achieved in their position, before he began to slam into her, hard and fast and deep and just what she needed. His prosthetic was painful across her stomach, her delicate hipbones bruising against it, but she barely felt that when his hand ripped up her shirt and bra and tugged on her erect nipple viciously enough to make her yelp.
It all felt so fucking good; the roughness, the strange mix of pleasure and pain, the sense of mindlessly rushing towards something before death caught up with you. It was the kind of sex she never had with Glenn. He was all inexperienced sweetness and tender touches, smiles and giggling; not this harsh affirmation of life that left her clinging to the bars for support. She and Glenn had always made love but this… this was fucking, this was just lust and hormones and the thick slide of another's flesh inside you taking you to the edge of oblivion…
"Jesus… knew you'd still be tight after fuckin' that chink," Merle muttered hotly in her ear, as though reading the direction of her thought's, "if ya weren't so wet I'd think I was fuckin' a goddamn virgin..."
Maggie felt a rush of loathing through her and was about to angrily protest his insulting Glenn, when he'd finally hit that magic spot inside her. Merle clearly interpreted her resulting desperate whine correctly as he set up a driving rhythm, his hard cock striking it again and again.
"C'mon, girl," Merle growled in her ear, sounding desperate and close himself, "let it go fer me… been thinkin' 'bout how ya'd feel on my dick fer fuckin' days…"
Merle's filthy confession enhanced the tension already building within her, and after on a few more thrusts she was gasping and coming hard around him, her fluttering muscles gripping and pulling him in tightly. Close himself now, he gave a few grunting, sporadic thrusts before she felt him swell and empty himself deep inside her, the rush and the heat bringing on a second smaller tremor through her pussy as her treacherous body tried to milk him dry.
Eventually, they both stood there panting, the rush fading and the breeze starting to cool their sweat slicked skin; the pants round their ankles making it plain to anyone who passed by what they had been up to . Maggie was the first to move, shrugging him away and ignoring the electric feel of his softened cock sliding out of her sensitised flesh. As she bent slightly to pull up her jeans, he gave her a jovial slap on the ass before hitching up his own pants.
"Damn, Bo Peep! All that country livin' has given ya a healthy appetite. No wonder that itty-bitty chink couldn't satisfy…"
"Shut the fuck up, Merle," she snapped angrily, ignoring the guilt as she felt his still hot cum trickle down her leg. She yanked up her panties and jeans, threading through buttons with hands that now trembled with anger and shame.
Merle's grin remained but his gaze became more considering, and Maggie felt his look was uncomfortably shrewd.
"Oh, I get it…" he began.
"You don't get anything Merle," she interrupted, though in a slightly calmer voice than before. "That's why you're nothing but a dumbass, redneck bastard."
For some reason, Merle seemed to find this amusing, and she flicked him a hard glance when he chuckled. "Yes ma'am, though that begs tha question, don't it…" suddenly he was far too close for comfort, his breath hot on her face, "why ya had ta come ta me ta scratch ya itch? Why it was my cock ya came around, why it's my cum drippin' out of ya…"
Maggie pushed him away as his words filled her with what she could only assume was a thrill of contempt. "Don't flatter yourself, Merle. You were there," she said lip curling. "Like you said, I had an itch to scratch, and you had what I needed to scratch it."
"Oh no, no, no, darlin'," he rasped, leaning on the gate and blocking her in with an arm. "Ya had other choices. Officer Friendly, that big ol' spearchucker we got now…"
"Maybe I'm just like you Merle, maybe I'm just a racist prick." Then, in an unusually vicious touch for her, she added, "Maybe I just wanted to practice on you before I went after your better looking brother."
"You an' tha Mouse on a hidin' inta nothin' wit' baby brother," Merle chuckled darkly, "Darleena, he don't like girls..."
Maggie couldn't conceal a start of surprise as she searched Merle's slightly mocking gaze. "Daryl's gay?" Merle nodded. "And you know…? But…"
Merle frowned at her as he answered, "He's still my brother, my blood, even if he is cocksuckin' pansy-ass faggot. Which ya now know I ain't…" He made as if to pull her in for a kiss but she shoved him back.
"Don't matter what I know about you, Merle, I know enough ta know I don't like you. This was a one-time thing, and it ain't never happening again. You understand? It's done. Now let me go." She was prepared to struggle again, and was surprised when Merle instantly released her and backed up slightly, holding up his arms in a show of surrender.
"Okay, lil' girl, no problem," he said in falsely placating manner, before that knowing grin crossed his face again, "but only 'cause we both know ya'll be back."
"Keep dreamin', Dixon."
"Yer gonna need this again, Bo Peep, an' when ya do tha Big Bad Wolf is gonna have ta eat ya..."
"That's Little Red Riding Hood, asshole."
"Whatever. Point is, we both know yer gonna be back. Only difference is, ol' Merle knows why…"
"Fuck you, Merle!" Maggie spat at him, storming out of the yard.
Merle laughter followed mockingly after her. "Already did, darlin'," he called, "already did…"
And there you have the first chapter. Why did she sleep with Merle? Will Maggie be back for more? I suspect you know the answer to at least the second question…
Reviews are as loved and appreciated as ever.