Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Title: Fall Right In
Author: Abelina/Abby/Abelinajt
Fandom/Pairing: The Walking Dead - Beth Greene/Daryl Dixon (Bethyl)
Setting: Season 4, Alone-divergence.
Rating: E/NC17
Summary: If Beth hadn’t interrupted him when she did, calling him back with the melody of her voice, he might’ve done something dumb like opening the door for a doomed dog and maybe dooming them both while he was at it. Beth and Daryl escape the funeral home together. An Alone-divergence Bethyl story.
Notes: Chapter title taken from lyrics to Bonfire Heart by James Blunt.  And this chapter I have officially broken 200K words

All Chapters Here

Fall Right In
Chapter 32 – You Light the Spark in My Bonfire Heart


Daryl’s breath on her neck was the first thing Beth noticed when she slipped into consciousness. He was still asleep, going by the way his chest moved against her back, his breathing deep and steady. Every warm exhale trickled down along her spine like the brush of his fingers, and Beth kept as still as she could to keep from waking him. It wasn’t even light out yet, anyway, and the storm was still going strong.

Wind pounded against the sides of the building in great big gusts, pelting the unmoving brick with bullets made of frigid rain. Branches snapped and trunks creaked with ominous persistence, and the windows overhead rattled so hard it was a wonder none of them had tumbled loose to shatter on the concrete floor below. The rain hadn’t quit, either, had barely slowed down in the day and a half since the storm began. It drummed on the roof in an unending rhythm, poured over the high windows, rushed down the brick to spill out from ancient, overloaded gutters in noisy waterfalls. No doubt all that water was making rivers out of streams, out there beyond their temporary harbour, rising high enough to burst over banks, flood the low places, and render everything else a muddy, treacherous mess.

Thank God for this building and its non-leaky roof. If they hadn’t found it when they did, she and Daryl might—no. Good things. She had to think about the good things, not the what-ifs. The building and its roof, that could be the first one of the day. This building was a good thing and she was grateful for its existence. For its shelter. For having a blanket and room with carpet in it, no matter how thin. Those were two more good things, but she had better do this right. Start at the beginning so she didn’t miss any of the steps.

Beth closed her eyes, putting away the dim outline of the dingy brick walls and cold concrete beyond the open office door, and inhaled as deeply as she could. Felt the rush of air in, the expansion of her lungs as they grew to fill her chest. Held the breath in, a slow count of three, just long enough for the faintest burn to creep in at the edges before she let the air back out just as slowly as she breathed in. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe, and remember.

She was alive. She was alive and she wanted to be, and that was a good thing. She had sixteen years’ worth of love and fond memories that nobody, and nothing, not even the end of the world, could ever take away from her. She had Daddy’s eyes and Mama’s voice and Shawn’s right hook. She had hope that Maggie made it out and maybe some of the others, too. She had two good legs and a pair of strong arms and she could use them to do just about anything. She was strong. She survived. She made it. She was going to keep on doing all of those things because she had a plan and her plan worked.

She had Daryl. They had each other. They weren’t alone after the loss of their home and in the midst of this storm they were warm and dry and about as safe as they could hope to be.

Good things. All good things. As long as she remembered them, the bad stuff couldn’t drag her down.

Ritual done, Beth tucked in the loose edges of the blanket, curled back against the warm wall of Daryl’s chest, trying to be gentle so she didn’t wake him, only now registering the firmness at her butt for what it was. Daryl mumbled something in his sleep and pushed his erection against her, his hand on her belly pressing in as he did. Beneath his palm pulsed a little burst of warmth, quickly spreading down between her legs.

That—that was a pretty good thing, too, even though the rest of yesterday passed mostly in silence. Since—a flush of heat climbed under her ribs, all the way up into her cheeks, just thinking about it—since she made herself come, pressed up against Daryl’s back while he did the same. Daryl had been quiet, but much in the way he was in the days after the ledge. Quiet, but not distant, and it was easy to give him that space. To be honest she was grateful for it, too. She hadn’t planned any of it, had only wanted to hold him like he held her, help him feel just as safe and cherished as he made her feel. Hadn’t ever thought he would react so intensely to her touch and sweep her right along with him.

They both needed the chance to breathe and think about things, afterward. She sure as heck never touched herself with somebody like that before and she was certain Daryl hadn’t either. So it was good, the quiet, even if they never drifted far from each other’s orbit.

But despite all that, he still pulled her into his arms last night and fell asleep curled up with her. He didn’t regret what happened. Hesitation or not, he wasn’t pulling away from her. He was careful, though, just to hold her. Hand on her belly, sure, big and warm. The same comforting weight he always was, only without the little sweeps of his fingers, or any of the things that would stir her up. Beth understood; he wasn’t ready for anything else.

Whatever held him back, it mattered, and that mattered to her.

So she kept still, now, kept her eyes shut and resisted the urge to grind back into him even as he made those sleepy little thrusts against her. Even though she could feel the echo of each one of them pulsing through her belly and down to her clit. Lord, she felt it everywhere, throbbing in her labia, beating inside until her muscles itched and whispered softly for something to squeeze. Almost like she could feel the blood rushing south with each fluttery beat, settling into her slick flesh with a deep, heavy heat. A thrumming pressure demanding release. Was this what it felt like for a man? She never thought about it like that before, comparing her slick and swollen to Daryl’s swollen and hard, but, well, it wasn’t as though those two things weren’t meant to be complementary. Just thinking about all the ways in which they could be prompted a flurry of involuntary clenching and a fresh surge of wetness. That itch inside was getting stronger with every heartbeat and she wasn’t just warm anymore.

She didn’t want to make things worse, when he woke up, by assuming he wanted to be doing this. Hopefully when he did wake, he’d at least not be embarrassed by what his body wanted to do in its sleep. But she couldn’t help what it did to her, feeling him there, pressing against her like that. His unconscious motions, guided by some sort of instinct, had the length of him, hard—god, so hard and thick and hot, hotter than the heat of the man himself—nestled along the crack of her butt. His shorts were old and thin and even though her red ones weren’t, she felt every inch of him. She took a deep breath which shuddered out and Daryl mumbled again, something inaudible, and curled his fingers against her belly, almost as though he was dreaming. He’d never done this before in all the times they had slept like this, so maybe he was.

Maybe—and she wouldn’t have let herself suppose, if yesterday hadn’t happened—maybe he was even dreaming about her.

As if on cue, Daryl nuzzled his face into the back of her neck and murmured her name, ramping up that pleasant trickle down her spine into something that rushed, zinged along her nerves and pulled another shaking breath from her lungs. They couldn’t expand deep enough anymore to let her breathe normally and she really, really needed Daryl to wake up now and either stop altogether or carry on consciously. Correction—she wanted him to wake up, even if nothing was gonna happen, just so she could be awake with him. Anything else would be nice—so nice, oh lord, would it ever—but awake with Daryl, cuddled up beneath a blanket was one of her favourite things ever.

She drew her knees up higher, clenched her thighs together a little, felt the slickness there between them. If she were to slide her hand into her shorts right now her fingers would come out completely coated. Beth huffed a quiet chuckle. If she were to slide her fingers into her shorts right now she wasn’t likely to want to bring them back out. She could do that, but no, not with Daryl still asleep, even though—oh, god—just the thought of touching herself while he lay behind her only made her throb harder.

If she did do it, though, she’d go slowly. Tease herself and make it last instead of just going for it right away. Cup herself in her palm, first, marvel at the heat emanating from her body. Feel the beads of moisture literally coating her curls. Pinch her folds together until her clit pulsed inside, then get her fingers good and slick with the wetness she squished out and then just touch. Touch herself like she hadn’t ever done it before, like this needy place nestled between her thighs was something brand new. Something to learn, to explore. As though she was thirteen all over again except she didn’t have to struggle to remember what Maggie told her. Didn’t need that little bottle of lube to help things along because she was making more than enough on her own.

With a slippery fingertip she would glide along the insides of her labia, the warm flesh so plump, so swollen she wouldn’t even need to hold herself apart. A light touch; a little tickle of pressure just firm enough to make her hum. To make her breath flow out from somewhere very deep. Back and forth, that same slow, slick glide, feeling the contrast between the fleshy outer lips and the rippled inner ones. So thin and sensitive when she rubbed them between her fingers. Yeah, a little tug, a little roll, and the tiniest little waves of bliss. She would take a minute to indulge in that because it would feel so good.

When she moved on, she’d be even wetter. Her breathing would deepen and the throb between her legs would spread, until she felt that need to be touched almost everywhere. Oh, there were so many places her other hand could explore but not yet. No, she would curl her fingers against her hip, hold off until she couldn’t stand it, until that needy itch screamed out all over her body and she had to.

The clench of her vaginal muscles would pull her mind back into focus, remind her of what she was doing, now, not what she could be doing later. Beth would sink her teeth into her bottom lip to keep a little groan inside when her fingers reached the swirled flesh of her opening. With a touch even lighter, as gentle as a little breath of air, she would circle it, feel the way the muscles moved beneath against that tease of pleasure, how they would flutter and contract, begging her to come inside. But no, she would keep circling, keep teasing, feel it as a deep pulse in her belly, a warmth spreading through her like a flood. Warmth that was a flood, a fresh slick of it pouring out to meet her questing fingers. Come inside. Inside. Inside where she was so slick and so warm and so, so ready to engulf those fingers in silky heat. To draw them in deep, where that delicious itch lived, clamp so tightly around them as they pressed into it and made her moan, made her tremble all over.

But her fingers would move on, and those muscles would flutter in protest and she would almost give in, almost slide a finger inside as far as she could go. Only the throb of her clit would speak louder, and so she would deny one need to focus on another. Glide those fingers now to that swollen nub of flesh standing out so full at the apex of her labia. She’d be careful, though. Careful to keep her touch gentle so she wouldn’t cry out the moment she made contact. Make slow strokes with wet fingers on the hood of flesh around the top of it, the folds beneath. By now her breathing would grow kind of ragged in anticipation. In anticipation and need, as her clit throbbed and demanded to be touched, while the ache in her vagina pulsed doubly strong, begging for its share of the attention.

She’d be circling closer now, moving with a bit more pressure, just barely grazing that bundle of nerves. Already she would feel the tremble begin in her toes, a tremble which curled them around an icy-hot wave slowly climbing up her body. Yes. Like that, just a little harder now, the pads of her fingers dragging slickly around her swollen clit. Slow circles. Steady. Just enough pressure to burst into tiny shards of pleasure. Oh, lord, she needed something inside her, too. Something to strike her just right while she worked at her clit, something to squeeze around, something like—

A groan from behind her tugged Beth’s mind away from the fantasy. Pulled her up just enough notice the erection still pressing rhythmically against her ass, as well as her hand between her legs, cupping herself through the damp red fabric of her little shorts. She stopped the circles she was making with the heel of her hand and tried to keep her breathing even. Tried, and failed, and Daryl murmured something again and then went rigid at her back, his breathing shifting in an instant from deep and steady to loud and ragged.

“Hey,” Beth said, and pulled her hand out from between her thighs to lay it over top of his.

He shuddered hard against her back, but didn’t speak. Just lay there like a log—a log with his cock still nestled in the crack of her ass—his breath hitting her neck in hard little explosions.

Even if he decided he didn’t want to, she needed him to know that he could. That it was all right to want it because she wanted it, too. “You can, Daryl,” she whispered, surprised at the hoarseness of her voice.

He curled his fingertips a little deeper into her belly and pressed his forehead against the back of her neck. “Fuck, Beth,” he said, voice little more than a shaky whisper.

“You can.” Beth traced her fingers over his knuckles, stroked over his thumb with hers, pushed back with her hips just the tiniest bit and smiled when she felt a hint of pressure returned.  “If you want to, you can.”

He shuddered again and breathed her name, but stayed still. For a minute, or several minutes, several minutes which spanned hours, Daryl remained unmoving, like a statue at her back aside from the uneven breathing. Both of them that way, two warm bodies with thundering hearts hovering in some sort of static-charged limbo where every jagged breath crackled with the rustle of fabric.

The sound of Daryl swallowing was loud in her ear, and against her belly his fingers flexed and extended, over and over like a cat’s kneading paw. Finally, he let out a sound like a strangled whine, and pushed in with his hand at the same time as he tilted his hips toward her, as though he meant to pin her there in the middle.

And Beth couldn’t keep from pushing back, a little more firmly than the last time, enough to feel the press of his cock. “Please, Daryl. I just wanna feel you.”

He shuddered, like a wave rippling at her back, his breath once again spilling hot and heavy on her neck as he lifted his head. A low groan followed, one that rumbled up from his belly. One that seemed to shake the ground beneath them as his hips jerked against her butt. Beth pressed down on his palm, pushed in hard, and the next move he made was slower, more like the little thrusts he made in his sleep, only deeper. More deliberate. Where before they pulsed like an echo in her belly, the motions of his hips, the press of his cock against her now flared like lightning, bursting out from her sacrum right through to her clit, to the slick, throbbing flesh between her legs.

“Oh, Daryl,” she whispered, not surprised to feel another shudder tear through him as she started grinding back into him, circling her hips to match his slow rhythm of rolling thrusts against her.

His lips dragged across the nape of her neck. Dry, scratchy, a wet breath of air escaping between them. “Beth. You’re killin’ me, girl.”

“Killin’ you?” A bleat of laughter tumbled out of her open mouth. “You know how long I waited for you to wake up?”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he whispered, between now-wet kisses dropped down the back of her neck.

They fell into silence, aside the little moans Beth couldn’t contain and Daryl’s hard breaths as he slowly rutted against her ass. His kisses became words. Words she couldn’t hear as he mouthed them into her neck while he shuddered and sighed and groaned behind her. His fingers on her belly now moved in slow arcs, sweeping low with the barest brush of pressure, setting the muscles quivering beneath, rippling out from behind her bellybutton and spreading like that of a stone tossed into a pond. Beth’s breath caught in her chest, held there until it almost burned before tumbling back out in a high pitched whimper.

Because, if he wasn’t sure before, after yesterday afternoon he knew without a doubt what this meant. Yeah, his touch was nice, just the feel of him on her skin no matter what the circumstances. It didn’t have to mean that but right now it did, and with her second whimper his thrusts behind her grew bolder. His silent words into her neck were again punctuated with sloppy kisses, trails of saliva left behind turned cool by the heat of his breath. She couldn’t hear the words, could only feel them like a buzz down her spine. A shiver across her scalp, tingling and warm. As warm as her belly beneath the fingers which touched her as she had touched him.

Beth bit into her lip and half-stifled a little moan. Imagined them rolling over. It wouldn’t matter who was on top, not really, so long as she could feel the thickness of his cock between her legs, between her spread labia so he could know how wet she was for him. So he could feel her muscles clench inside as she rolled along his length, dragging her clit against the hardness of him. Or they could stay like this and she could take his hand, push it into her shorts. Get his fingers on her like she imagined doing to herself. In her, so much thicker and longer than her own fingers, and oh, that would feel so amazing.

Slow, Beth. Slow.

No getting ahead of herself and ruining what was happening now by thinking about what could happen later, maybe. Maybe. Beth’s moan escaped this time before she could suppress it, and Daryl let out a matching one behind her as his fingers dipped lower. As though he’d read her mind maybe, sliding his shaky fingers just above the elastic waistband of her shorts. Tracing that line of sensitive skin back and forth until she was the one who trembled with the beat of her heart pounding in her ears.

Like maybe he was only waiting for her to ask him.

Beth took a deep breath and wrapped her hand around his wrist, breathing so hard she almost couldn’t force the words out. “Do...do you want to?”


Daryl’s fingers came to a shaking halt mid-pass and his breath fell across her neck in a shuddery rush. “God, yes.”

Beth had to take in a couple of deep breaths before she moved, before she could find the strength to lift her leg and drape it back over his. Shifting like that let Daryl’s cock, not really contained much by his loose boxers, push further between her spread cheeks when he thrust against her again. Oh, god, he was so close, and he stopped moving but he didn’t pull back, didn’t try to retreat even though every muscle in his body tensed.

Beth tightened her hold on his wrist, fingernails just digging into the sensitive inner skin. “Daryl.

A deep breath left him, and he nudged at the elastic. Plucked at it. Tucked his fingertips just beneath the edge and stroked along the skin there, mouth open, lips pressed to her neck as his breath washed hot and ragged over her already warm skin. That tension turned into a tremble, right from his knees where they pushed at hers and up into his chest, and he groaned so deeply she felt it rumbling through her back. His teeth scraped against her neck, fingers still grazing, and Beth let out the tiniest of whimpers which prompted yet another groan out of Daryl.

Beth,” he breathed, lips sliding wetly at the back of her neck, fingers hovering at that border as though he were afraid to cross it. “I don’t...”

“Just—” Her breath heaved in her chest, and shuddered out in a shaky rush. There wasn’t any way he could do this wrong, there just was not. “Just touch me, Daryl. Please.

At her neck the whispered words continued, washing over her skin in little wisps of breath and trembling slides of his lips. Some sort of silent plea he was desperate for her to hear, and something tightened in her chest in response.

Oh, Daryl. Daryl, don’t be afraid. It’s just me. Just me and you.

He shuddered behind her, lips finally falling still, lying hot and open at the nape of her neck. Maybe he heard her answer the same way she heard his fears. What this was—oh, she knew. She knew, but the world wasn’t ready yet for that word and she shoved it back down before it could escape. She couldn’t blame Daryl for being scared about this. About all of this. It scared her too, the sheer depths of what lay between them. Not just the physical acts, what they’d done, what they were going to do, but all of it. Everything beating in her heart for this man, everything she felt echoed back at her from his. It was good, what they had, where they were going. Imperfect and beautiful and just so good; the best good thing on her list of good things. But also huge. Enormous. Earth-shattering even if it was only their little corner of it shattered.

Beth brushed her fingers across his knuckles, slowly back and forth until he shuddered behind her. “You can, Daryl. I want you to.

Daryl bit down on the back of her neck, hard enough to make her gasp, and pushed his hand into her shorts.

Yesterday afternoon he watched as she scrubbed her panties clean with their bar of soap and some rainwater and hung them up to dry by her jeans. So he knew she was bare beneath these stolen boxer briefs but he still let out a strangled sound in the back of his throat when his fingertips brushed the edge of her curls. With a murmured word she couldn’t hear, teeth grazing her neck, breathing every bit as hard as she was as, Daryl cupped her in his big warm palm and stayed there, not moving. As though he just wanted to hold her, feel the heat of her, exactly how she’d wanted to do it herself.  Palm warm, long fingers just pressing in the tiniest amount. He wasn’t even really doing anything yet and her heart was already pounding, a pulse that beat through every inch of her body. But he was going to. He wanted to. He had his hand down her shorts and he was going to touch her.

Anticipation of that buzzed in her ears, every nerve ending from her scalp to her toes on high alert. Waiting for the show to start and she felt like she was barely holding on long before the first tentative dip of his finger down into her folds.


Daryl’s teeth scraped at her neck again, his moan almost pained as he parted her, fingers gliding between her slick, swollen lips. So, so lightly, god, just a breath of a touch that sparked off all those waiting nerves and fluttered hard in her belly. Beth heard herself whimper his name, in a voice she barely recognized as her own, and nuzzled her face down into the strong bicep tucked beneath her head.

Another pass, this time a bit more. Not quite enough but there was something so delightful about it, about Daryl’s thick fingers just whispering over her like butterfly wings, following every dip and curve and contour until Beth couldn’t tell which of them was trembling harder. She fought to keep her breathing even, but each increasingly sure stroke of his fingers made that more and more impossible and she stopped trying. Just let her chest heave and her breath tumble out in whatever broken rush it could manage. This was exactly how she’d pictured, before, in her head, only it was Daryl slicking up his fingers, following the paths laid out by her body to tickle her opening and moan softly when her muscles clenched, begging him to come inside. Fingers just the right combination of rough and wet to keep those sparks firing, bursting in her belly as they skirted around her clit, just shy of actually touching it. It didn’t take long for her ragged breaths to turn into other sounds; little whimpers on almost every exhale, broken by low raspy moans that started in her toes, and short, sharp cries that made Daryl curse under his breath.

He bit at her neck, a pinch of teeth into the taut cord of muscle that pulsed all the way down to her clit and fell out of her mouth as a wobbly ohhh. Daryl groaned as he released her, as he licked across the place where his teeth dug in and swept his fingers down again to tease at her opening.

“Daryl,” she whispered, unable to stop the flutter of her muscles beneath his tickling fingers, or the tilt of her hips seeking more friction. More—more something. “I need—I need—”

Daryl growled into her neck, scraping his teeth where her skin still stung and rolled his hips behind her. A slow, hard grind and an even harder press of his cock between her spread cheeks. It jolted through her belly, a flutter of heat and a zing of pleasure, and Beth couldn’t remember anymore what she was going to say.

“Oh, god,” she moaned, and rolled her hips with him. Pushing back against his cock one way and toward his fingers the other.

A sound almost like a chuckle, this time. Whispered into her neck along with that scrape of his teeth. He truly was teasing now, tickling so very lightly at the hollow along the underside of her clit. Not exploring anymore, but deliberately touching her in the very place that made her moan the loudest. Swooping down to get his fingers even slicker and staring all over again, never quite where she wanted him but it felt so good. So good in the worst possible way because she was going to bite a chunk out of his arm if he kept teasing her this way. She needed him on her clit. Needed him inside. Fingers, cock, whatever and she wasn’t at all certain she didn’t say that out loud, the way Daryl’s groan burst out like gunfire in her ears.

Another dip down to coat his fingers and Beth held her breath, waiting, waiting for the teasing to start up again but instead his finger swept across her clit. Too hard, too sudden, too direct and she cried out, an abrupt shout that bounced off the ceiling as her hips jerked back. Daryl pulled his fingers away and she fumbled to grab hold of his wrist before he pulled back altogether.

Okay—it’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered, releasing his wrist to draw her trembling finger in slow, firm circles around one of his knuckles, pushing just a bit harder around the top side. “Like that.”

He exhaled sharply, then swept his finger down into her folds again, humming into her skin when he found her even wetter than before. His first circle was tentative but the next one—oh, the next one was perfect. Just the right speed, just the right increase of pressure around the top to make her back arch, her muscles clench.

“Y-yeah.” Beth clutched again at his wrist. “Oh, god. Oh god, Daryl.”

He didn’t answer, but she knew he wouldn’t. Knew that he couldn’t find the words for her right now or else he’d already be saying them. It didn’t matter. She didn’t need words when she had the rumbling in his chest, the curses whispered under his breath and the flutter of it at her neck. The rocking of his hips, the press of his cock, the turn of his fingers exactly how she needed them. He was there. He was right where he wanted to be, here with her even if he couldn’t speak. Touching her. Driving her closer and closer to the edge with each perfect drag of his finger on her throbbing clit.

Desperate to hold onto him, to touch him somehow, Beth flung her arm up behind her, finding the curve of his neck, and she tugged at his hair until he growled and thrust hard against her ass. She kept pulling as the coil in her belly wound tighter and tighter with each circle of his fingers. She was so close. So close and it wasn’t going to take long. A tremor rolled through her shoulders, clenched in her belly where the spikes of pleasure lanced through like little electric shocks. Curling in her toes. Stuttering out of her lungs as a gravelly sound that scraped its way past her throat.

“Daryl!” she cried, tangling her fingers into his hair. “Daryl—”

Every muscle in her body clenched. Tightened. Pulled to the point of breaking and then shattered into millions of pieces. And she was coming, coming hard, to the sound of her own broken cries and Daryl’s ragged Beth–Beth–Beth in her ear.

Beth was still shaking when Daryl pushed his fingers inside her, his groan loud enough she could hear him over the buzzing in her ears when her contracting muscles sucked tight around those two thick digits and pulled them deep. He curled them in and back and pushed in deeper, the heel of his hand striking her still-singing clit, fingertips pressing so close to where she needed him that all it took was a tilt of her hips to get him to the right place.

Her back arched again like the arms of a crossbow on contact, and around the rising whine in her chest she managed to speak. Tightened her grip on his hair with one hand, reached out again for his wrist with the other, closing her fingers around it and digging in hard. “There—oh god, Daryl—right there!

A huff of breath rushed across her neck, followed by a graze of teeth and a quiet moan as he withdrew, fighting the tension of her clenching muscles, pulling partway out and pushing back into her with an obscenely wet squelch. Striking that spot all over again, now that he knew where it was, the jolt of it shooting right through to her spine, down to her toes, coiling tight in her belly. Again, and again, until she was rocking against his hand while he thrust his fingers in. So hard. Harder. As hard as she could push against him at this angle, and her greedy, clenching muscles fluttered and caught the last little waves of her orgasm, rose up and toppled her right back over the edge.

When she floated back down, she sagged, weightless, breathless, sightless because her eyelids had been replaced with sacks of wet wool and she couldn’t hope to open them. Collapsed back against Daryl’s body, shuddered with the ripples of a little aftershock as he withdrew his fingers, but felt a hint of a smile tugging at her lips when he left his trembling hand resting there on her thigh like he wasn’t quite ready to not be touching her. He was still hard behind her, still panting in her ear. When she could move she’d take care of that for him if he wanted her to. For now she lay in his arms like a pile of spaghetti and tried to remember how to speak.

“Daryl,” she whispered, once the words came. There weren’t any words better than that in her head, anyway. Not right now. Maybe not ever. “Oh, Daryl.”

His breath had been shaking against her the whole time, but there was something else in it now as it warmed her neck. Something thick and heavy that made her eyes water, made her heart flutter in her chest and she didn’t know why, but before she could think too hard on it he was pushing at her hip, urging her to turn over.

Though her bones still felt like jelly, Beth forced her arms and legs to do as she asked and rolled to face him. “What—”

“C’mere,” he breathed, as he gathered her close, one big hand cradling the crown of her head and the other sliding up under her shirt to lay warm and sticky across her back.

She let herself be gathered. Draped one floppy arm around his waist and snuggled close. His erection pressed into her belly, solid and hot, and Daryl moaned softly when she arched gently against him. “Daryl?”

Pressing his face down into her hair, he sighed, mouth open and breath warm on her scalp. That same heavy weight to it as before, tugging even harder at her fluttering heart. “Just—just stay.”

Oh, Daryl. He had to be screaming for release right about now. No way he could be that hard for that long and not need to come, and lord, she wanted to get him there. Hold him in her palm, feel the weight of his cock and the smoothness of the skin, sweep her thumb through the bead of moisture at the head and watch him twitch, then wrap her fingers around him and stroke him until he trembled. Until he whimpered and moaned the same as she had. She’d watch him explode all over her hand and sag down to the floor with bones made of rubber and then he could gather her close. Then they could drift away together, sticky and sweaty and panting in sweet exhaustion. She wanted to do that for him so badly—but only if he was ready for it to happen, and every shuddery breath into her hair told her that he wasn’t.

That was the only part of this that really mattered. Not what she wanted. Not the little pang of disappointment in her belly or the little clench in her chest when she thought of all the reasons why he thought he had to hold back. The only thing that mattered was Daryl. Just Daryl, and if he needed to hold her right now then she would let herself be held. Be whatever it was he needed.

“Okay,” she whispered, pushing at his chest with her face, pressing a kiss into his skin through the thin white cotton. “Okay.”

Daryl’s fingers curled in at her back, against her scalp. “Beth.”

She brushed her thumb back and forth over his cotton-covered back. Listened to the pounding of his heart and the depth of his breathing in her ear. Sleep tugged at the edges of her mind, and she let it tug. Drifted, warm and weightless, with Daryl’s arms wrapped so tightly around her.

“‘S okay, Daryl,” she murmured, letting out a slow, deep breath. “I got you.”

I’m not goin’ anywhere.


Days like these lead to
Nights like this lead to
Love like ours
You light the spark in my bonfire heart
People like us—we don’t
Need that much, just some-
One that starts
Starts the spark in our bonfire hearts

      - James Blunt

to be continued in chapter 33 >>


( 2 have spoken — take the speaking stick )
Feb. 4th, 2016 12:32 am (UTC)
I think I need a moment... or two or three....
Feb. 4th, 2016 02:47 am (UTC)
Heeee, thank you!
( 2 have spoken — take the speaking stick )


Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by chasethestars