Oh, Daryl. @confessionsofadarylfangirl - Tumblr Blog

“Muddy Waters”

The lovely @squeakowl offered to let her first smutty one-shot be featured on this blog so here it is! It’s also on Ao3 if you’d prefer to read it there and to get give this lovely writer some kudos

“Hey Cat!” Maggie’s drawl broke the silence, and Catherine Baker dropped the feather she had been trying for the last ten minutes to affix to the shaft of one of her arrows. The feather was warped, and she didn’t have enough glue, so she very much needed to make the repair work. But some other time, because it was starting to irritate her, and her work always got sloppy if she got frustrated. She couldn’t afford sloppy when her arrows were all that stood between her and starvation. Or being walker chow.

With a sigh she picked it up off her lap and set it aside for the moment. “What, Maggie?” Cat tried to keep her annoyance out of her voice.

“T-Dog found a little lake in the woods, and it looks like it’s thawed. Cold as hell, but safe. We’re all gonna go in pairs so we can get clean. You coming?” Cat was immediately on her feet. It had been a long, uncommonly cold winter, which, despite the fortuitous fact that cold seemed to slow walkers down, had resulted in most of the group being reluctant to strip down and partake in any sort of bathing. Consequently, they all smelled almost as bad as the walkers. You got used to it, though.

“Definitely, I’ll put all this away and meet you by the cars?” Maggie nodded and disappeared out the tent flap. Shortly after, Cat wandered out of the woods and into the clearing with the cars, with her quiver, bow, and knapsack stuffed with relatively clean clothing, some towels, and a bar of soap. Her dark curls where clipped back, framing her pale face.

“…in a hollow about half a mile west, over that rise with the pine trees,” T-dog was saying to Rick as Cat wandered within earshot. He pointed above the tree line, and Rick turned his head in that direction, following T-dog’s outstretched arm. “If you look over that way, you can see the tops of the trees.” Rick nodded.

“Well, OK, who’s going first, then? Herschel, maybe you and I can take Carl up, and then…?” Herschel nodded, and looked over at Maggie, who was standing over by Glenn, leaning close to say something quietly to him. Realizing her father was looking at them, the mischievous twinkle in Maggie’s eyes immediately died down, much to Glenn’s disappointment.

“Um, Beth and I can go next. Then maybe Glenn and T, and Lori, you could go with Carol? I don’t think we should go in groups of more than a few, because we don’t want to make too much noise, and we don’t want to leave the camp abandoned.” The four of them nodded in agreement, seemingly satisfied with that arrangement.

“And I’m supposed to just protect my own ass, then?” Everyone swiveled their heads in Cat’s direction. After 4 months, and three large deer, two turkeys, two possums, and innumerable squirrels over their fires, they were used to her snarky remarks, and willing to tolerate them.

“Oh, you can come with me and Maggie, I guess,” said Beth. She smiled her sweet smile, but was interrupted by a harsher voice.

“If she doesn’t mind, she can come with me.” Daryl materialized out of the trees with his ever-present crossbow at his side, and something that might once have been a towel over his shoulder. “I don’t give a shit if it’s a guy or a girl watching my ass as long as it’s being watched well. The thought of fighting walkers solo in the all-together doesn’t really sound like my idea of a party.”

“Oh. Um…Cat, is that OK with you?” Maggie asked, a little tentative, her eyes clearly saying that she would understand completely if Cat was more comfortable going with the sisters, rather than someone like Daryl. Cat, however, didn’t hesitate at all at the thought, which was a bit surprising, even to her. Ever since she joined the little group, she had felt remarkably at ease with Dixon, probably because he was comfortable in silence. She liked that. She had never been one for small talk, and it was nice to be around someone with whom the silence wasn’t awkward. It just was.

“I’m…fine with that. You guys go ahead.” Rick walked over to the hood of the Hyundai and grabbed his bundle of clothing off the hood, walking past Daryl on his way toward the western edge of the clearing. Cat couldn’t quite hear the remark Rick made, but she could hear Daryl respond with something that sounded like: “C’mon, man. I’m an asshole, but not THAT much of an asshole…” Cat snorted, and turned it into a sniff. The chilly wind made her nose tickle so it wasn’t too much of a stretch. She thought it was kind of sweet that Rick was concerned for her. But frankly, she’d handled worse than Daryl, and she didn’t really think she’d even need to handle him anyway. To be honest, she felt safer with Daryl than with practically anyone else in the group.

Rick checked to make sure his pistol was loaded, and put his arm around Carl’s shoulders. Herschel shouldered his pack, and the three of them set out into the woods in the direction of the low rise with the pine trees.

A few hours later, everyone had lost their layers of winter grime, and their hair was all still damp from the early March air. Lori and Carol finally came back out of the woods, their hair combed, and their faces clean in the late afternoon light. Despite the weather getting steadily warmer, it still got darker earlier than in midsummer, and the nights were still chilly. Glenn and Maggie were off in the woods somewhere, purportedly gathering some more firewood. Cat had her doubts, but was sure they’d be back with said firewood before it got dark. They deserved all the fun they could manage with the current state of the world.

“C’mon, Cat-niss, it’s our turn.” She heard Daryl stand up from where he was hardening the tips of his crossbow bolts in the fire, the leather of his jacket creaking as he slung the weapon over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes, not bothering to comment on his irritating nickname for her. He knew she didn’t like it, and she was pretty sure that’s why he used it. He seemed to like to tease people like that, poking at them. But it never struck her as malicious. She swung her quiver over her body, and grabbed her bag. As they entered the trees, the temperature seemed to drop about five degrees, and she zipped up her jacket. It was one of those days that felt like spring in the sunshine, but was still wintery in the shade. Maybe this bathing wasn’t such a fantastic idea after all. She didn’t like the sound of numb feet and pneumonia.

Despite stopping several times to bag a handful of squirrels, it didn’t take them very long to find the rise that hid the hollow. The shallow ridge and the tall pine trees that surrounded a bowl of a valley provided a windbreak, and privacy. It was bigger than Cat had thought it would be. If she was guessing, she would say the lake was about one hundred and fifty feet long. There was a small river, more of a stream, really, branching off to the north, and she could hear what sounded like a waterfall somewhere at the other end. There were some big flat rocks near the edge of the lake, landing there from where they had clearly rolled off the ridge at some point. With the trees just starting to leaf again, and the late afternoon sun, it was kind of idyllic, actually. It was places like this that could help her forget everything that had happened. For a while, anyway. She was brought out of her reverie by Dixon’s deep drawl.

“Do you want to go first?” He took his crossbow off and propped it against one of the pine trees, under the sheltering lower branches. Cat hung her knapsack from a broken branch, and slipped her quiver off and leaned it against her leg.

“No, you go,” Cat said, digging in the pocket of her jeans for the waxed packet of canvas that she kept her bow strings in.

“You sure? I don’t mind waiting.”

“No, really,” she replied. Hooking one end of the string, she planted the bow against the arch of her foot and compressed the weapon, hooking the other end and stringing her bow in one smooth, efficient motion. “I want to sit up here at look at the view for a while. I…”

“…what?” Daryl looked at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s nothing, it just…it sounds silly.” He looked at her, asking without saying a word. She sighed and explained how when she saw unspoiled natural views like this one she could pretend everything was normal again for a few minutes. “It doesn’t last long, but some comfort is better than none, right?” She smirked at herself. “I know,” she said. “I’m weird.”

“No, you’re not.” She turned to face him. “I do that, too. I grew up in the woods, so it makes me feel like a kid again. I mean, it weren’t no picnic, but at least it was normal. At least I didn’t have things chasing me that wanted to eat me. I get it.” He smiled a little, and Cat couldn’t help but smile back. He looked oddly shy, looking down at his boots, and Cat could suddenly see the little boy he had probably been, running through the woods to escape what was probably an awful childhood. She had once inadvertently seen the scars that marred his back, when she bandaged a scrape of road rash on his shoulder, and knew straight away that they hadn’t been accidental. She’d seen marks like that before, working as a nurse before the plague hit, and she knew they were caused by the buckle-end of a belt. No one deserved that, especially not a child.

“Well, go on, then, jump in.” Cat gave him a dubious look, and added: “You certainly could use a good scrubbing. Here.” She unzipped her bag and handed him the bar of soap. “You’ll probably need this.” He took the soap without another word, and tucked it in his pocket. Grabbing his crossbow and throwing his towel over his shoulder, he made his way down the gentle slope to the water’s edge. There were rocks and small boulders scattered down it, and little saplings here and there, so it didn’t take him long. Cat knocked an arrow to her bow, and settled down onto the carpet of springy white pine needles, her back to the trunk, and looked out over the water to the distant shore. Time to forget for a while.

-----

Cat was lost in thought, and enjoying the scent of last night’s rain still on the breeze when she heard some rustling in the brush behind her. Standing up quietly, she twined her fingers around the grip of her bow, and pulled the string back, fingers humming with the burst of adrenaline pulsing through her. Every single nerve in her body was on edge, eyes and ears alert for anything that moved. It was either dinner or danger, and it didn’t really matter which – with either one, you only got one shot.

She was so concentrated on staring into the climbing shadows of the underbrush she didn’t hear the footsteps coming up behind her. Daryl knew not to make noise while someone was hunting, so he let her keep looking, silently willing her to look up and see the pheasant perched in the oak tree about ten yards away. He turned his attention to her, watching her shoulders flex under her jacket, her dark eyed gaze as steady as her hand as it scanned the forest in front of her for the slightest of movements. When they went hunting, they didn’t talk much, which he was fine with. He enjoyed the time to think. And, truth be told, he enjoyed looking at her. She was beautiful, no doubt about that. But she was a wild kind of pretty, with flyaway hair and capable hands. He hadn’t told anyone (why would he?), but she always reminded him of Artemis, the Greek goddess of hunting. When he was about twelve years old, he had found an old book in the woods where the teenagers used to hang out and smoke meth. It was a book about Greek mythology, read to shreds and warped with water damage, and was probably there because someone wanted to jack off to the naked illustrations of Aphrodite. But when he flipped through it, he had been immediately struck by the drawing of Artemis with her bow and her hunting hounds. Pale limbs, wild dark hair, keen eyes…at the time, she’d seemed like the perfect woman to him. Ever since then he’d kept a secret sort of mental talisman, asking Artemis for her blessing whenever he shot his crossbow, and she hadn’t failed him yet. Maybe that was why he was drawn to Cat – she was like his talisman come to life.

Eventually, Cat spotted the pheasant and took her aim, taking the bird down with flawless accuracy – a shot to the eye. It killed instantly so the bird didn’t suffer, and it didn’t mar the meat or the feathers. She’d make some nice fletching from that one.

“Nice shot,” said Daryl, quietly, reluctant to break the spell that stalking prey casts over you. Cat gasped and whirled around, her hand immediately scrabbling for the knife at her belt. Her boot landed on her quiver, and rolled to the side, causing her to fall, twisting, pitching her past Daryl and toward the rocky slope. Reflexes kicking in, Daryl dropped his crossbow and shot out his arm, snaking it around her waist. Cat clung to his shoulders and he pitched their weight backward, away from the incline. They landed hard up against one of the towering pine trees, Daryl’s back taking the brunt of the trunk’s impact. He let out a grunt, but held her tightly, making sure she didn’t slip backward again toward the slope.

“Jesus Christ, Daryl!” Despite her indignation at being startled, Cat’s voice was breathless, shaky from adrenaline. “Don’t sneak up on me like that! I could have killed you.” Daryl smirked and shifted his weight until he was no longer leaning against the rough bark of the tree, but still kept his grip on Cat to keep her from stepping back over the narrow band of earth before the ridge fell away toward the lake.

“You’re welcome,” he said, sarcastically, knowing that she wasn’t really angry. More scared. She was like that, turning everything into bluster, always on the defensive, bristling up before anyone could notice that maybe anger wasn’t the only emotion making her eyes shine and her voice shake. He knew what that was like. He’d know what that was like all his life. “Maybe you could take your knife away from my ribs now?” Cat stopped glaring at Daryl long enough to glance down.

“Oh, I –” She stopped. With a sudden shock of intimacy, she noticed for the first time that, despite the chill, Daryl had neglected to put his shirt back on after his dip in the lake. The skin of his bare chest was warm against her, and the flex of his bicep curled around her was strong, his wiry forearm secure against her waist. His hand rested gently in the middle of her back, and his skin was still damp with lake water, smelling of minerals and dead leaves. His dark jeans were slung low on his hips, revealing a taut stomach and a faint line of hair disappearing into his waistband. There was a subtle division where the skin around his hips got noticeably paler than the rest of his tanned skin. The sight of that soft, pale strip of him hit her with what seemed to be an embarrassing amount of familiarity. Flustered, she quickly disentangled herself from his unexpected embrace and hoped he didn’t notice that she missed her first attempt to slip her knife back into its sheath.

“Do you want me to go grab that bird for you?” His hair was still wet, hanging into his eyes, and he ran his fingers through it. Suddenly it seemed both very important to look anywhere but at him, and impossible not to. Glancing back sideways through the curtain of her hair, Cat noticed the muscles in his scarred back tensing as he picked his crossbow back up from where it lay in the pine needles, and impulsively thought: You know what? I don’t care that he’s so much older than me. He’s sexy. She then quickly squashed that thought, because she just didn’t need complications like that in her life right now.

“Yeah, could you? It’s getting dark, and I don’t want to be trudging back to camp in the dark with wet hair if I can help it.” Cat gathered up her pack and her bow, she hurriedly made in the direction of the lake bank.

“Hey,” Dixon’s drawl called her attention back just as she was about to start down the hill. She turned back, one hand on the trunk of a sapling. “You forgot something.” He dug in his pocket and produced the bar of soap, only a tiny bit lint-dusted. She took it from him, careful not to let their fingertips touch, and walked down to the lake.

The last thing Daryl needed right then was to have another complication thrown into his life, but as he walked back to the edge of the ridge to stand watch, pheasant in hand, it was all he could do not to keep thinking about how good Cat’s body had felt pressed against him. Even through her jacket he had felt the warmth of her, the swell of her breasts, her breath on his neck…he was thanking whatever God was left that he had managed not to get a hard on, because that was most definitely not a situation he wanted to deal with. It had been a long time since he’d touched a woman in that sort of way. Not that he’d had many opportunities lately, but when he kept his bravado up, people somehow got the impression that he was some sort of lady killer. He hadn’t dissuaded anyone of that, but it wasn’t exactly the truth, either. Although frankly, it didn’t matter if he was Casanova or a virgin – Cat was beautiful, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that she was about ten yards away from him and completely naked. Shit.

He took a bit of wire from the pocket of his jacket where it hung on a broken branch and used it to string up the bird next to the squirrels, then turned to dry off a bit more. As he turned to toss his towel down and grab his shirt, his eye was caught by some movement down at the bottom of the slope. Don’t do it, he thought. Don’t look. Don’t make Rick right that you’re THAT much of an asshole. Then the other half of his brain whispered: What if it’s a walker? What if she dies and it’s your fault? He growled to himself. “Ah, shit.” Bracing himself for the quickest of glances, he walked closer to the edge of the incline, poised himself to grab his crossbow and pull it up to aim, he looked down to the edge of the lake. It wasn’t a walker.

Cat stood hip-deep in the lake, her back to the shore, her long hair clean, and wet, and falling in dripping ringlets over her shoulders. She was scrubbing her arms and shoulders with a cloth, and the skin of her back was taut over her shoulder blades. The rounded curve of her ass was halfway out of the water, glistening with water droplets, and utterly hypnotizing. Daryl wanted to stop staring, wanted to not torture himself with these images that were guaranteed to come back at night to tease him when he was alone in his tent, but he couldn’t stop staring any easier than he could stop breathing. She was mesmerizing, drawing his eyes to her body like a magnet. He reached up and grasped a low branch, his fingers flexing around it. She turned to face the ridge now, and Daryl’s sucked in his breath, gritting his teeth, but unable to tear his eyes away from the swell of her hips tapering to a narrow waist he could almost feel his hands wrapping around. Bending to scoop up handfuls of water, she splashed it on her face. As it trickled down between her full breasts, over her belly, and down over her hip bones to the tops of her thighs, he stifled a moan and clenched one fist in his towel and the other against the tree’s bark, feeling his cock swell and strain against the fabric of his jeans. She bent forward, breasts swaying gently, to splash water up against her legs, and his breathing became deeper, and faster. Desperate to relieve the discomfort in his jeans, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and made the mistake of stepping on a stick. It snapped like a gunshot in the silence of the woods.

Cat’s head shot up like a startled deer, her dark eyes flashing, staring directly at him. Even if he wanted to, Daryl wouldn’t have been able to break eye contact with the intensity of her stare. Inside, he was panicking, caught spying like some kid peeking through his hot neighbor’s window. But even as he was trying to make up some excuse as to why he was looking at her, she straightened up, boldly holding his gaze. Her posture altered then, even though she barely moved. Her spine straightened, and flexed, her hips and shoulders rocked back, her chest swelled. The curves of her hips and breasts seemed to almost become more pronounced in contrast to her waist, and her skin was gilded, the moisture caught by the light of the almost-setting sun. And all the while she was looking Daryl Dixon dead in the eye. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. He couldn’t tell if the stare was a challenge, or an invitation. He decided to gamble, and slowly took a few steps toward the edge of the hill. She didn’t move. A few more steps, inches away from the slope. She subtly altered her posture again, gently cocking one hip out to the side, subtly lowering her chin to look up at him through her long eyelashes, her dark curls spilling forward over her shoulders. Definitely an invitation.

Daryl swallowed again. His pulse pounding, he started down the rocky slope at a gradual but steady pace, managing to keep his gaze resolutely locked with hers. He had the sneaking suspicion that if he looked anywhere else he’d lose his nerve, and he didn’t want to look chicken-shit. When he had made it down to the water’s edge, he had to finally break eye contact to kick off his unlaced boots. The last thing he wanted right now was to fall flat on his ass in the shallows. It seemed to him like it took forever, and he was sure any moment he’d hear her shriek, screaming at him to get away. But when he looked back up, feet bare, she was still looking at him, her gaze making him feel hot, his skin tingling like she had touched every inch of him. The tattered cuffs of his jeans dragged in the sandy mud as he stepped tentatively into the water, his footsteps labored, but purposeful, soon closing in the distance between them to only a few feet. The water lapped at his ankles, his knees, his thighs, and the ripples he made as he moved spread out across the short space between them. When they reached her, sliding over her skin, she wavered, closing her eyes for a moment, and he could see her catch her breath. He was close enough that he could see her flesh get goosebumps, as if he’d touched her with a soft, tickling caress. She was like a red deer – so beautiful you practically ached to reach out and touch her, but you know that if you move a muscle she’ll be off like a shot and you’ll be left wondering whether or not she was real. When her eyes opened again, they were even darker than usual, her pupils dilated, glazed with lust. She licked her lips, and he felt himself get harder, his cock aching, the seams of his jeans digging in so much it was almost painful.

She remained motionless, the water lapping at her body as Daryl slowly closed the gap between them, tentatively reaching for her shoulder. Then she moved, mirroring his motions, closing the distance down to mere inches. She was shorter than him, her face on a level with his chest, and when he felt her breath on his skin again, warm and cold by turns, a shiver ran up his back and he was filled with a rush of boldness, snaking his arm around her waist again as he had up on the edge of the ridge. She pressed herself against him, her hands sliding up his chest, resting on his shoulders. He bent his head, lacing his other hand into her wet hair, cradling the back of her neck, and paused, only for a moment. They savored that magnetic moment, the tipping point before lips meet, where you share the other person’s breath. Sometimes it’s more exciting than the actual kiss. But not this time. The space between their bodies disappeared, and Daryl sucked in his breath at the feel of her soft, full lips against his. He pulled away, briefly, gently, making sure they were on the same page, and her breath came out from between her parted lips with the tiniest of sighs. Something about that sound lit a fire in his belly, and he grabbed her, pulling her back to him roughly, pressing his mouth to hers with increasing urgency. She matched his passion, her mouth opening under his, her tongue snaking out to flicker against his lips, and he moaned into her mouth. Her hands slid up his neck and buried themselves tightly in his still damp hair, pulling him closer. He reached his hands up, desperately touching every inch of her, running his thumbnail gently down her spine which made her shiver so deliciously he could barely stand it. He willed himself to slow down, not wanting to waste his energy, not wanting to disappoint her. Her breathing became faster, and she let out little whimpers with every exhale, driving him wild, making him release his grip on her waist to grab her hips with both hands and grind his own against her, making his intent crystal clear. She wrapped her arms around his back, keeping him close, returning his force with equal eagerness. Her mouth left his then, kissing his salty skin, taking tiny nipping bites at him. Her lips burned a trail from beneath his ear, down his neck, over his collar bone and across his chest. He gasped as her teeth grazed his nipple, his breath hissing through his clenched teeth.

Unable to take any more, he slid his hands over her firm ass, and ventured lower, splitting her legs apart, lifting her up from the lake with a spray of water. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, and his arms locked around her hips, keeping her in place, trying to prevent her from moving too much, because he knew if she did he would barely last a minute. He turned, his footsteps sloshing and labored by the water, and took her to the closest of the rocky outcrops near the lake’s shore. Laying her down flat on it, he pulled back, savoring the sight of her, chest heaving with her panting breath, her nipples hard, her lips red and swollen from his kisses. Her legs apart, waiting for him.

“Goddamn, you’re a sight,” he murmured, his eyes raking over her with undisguised lust and admiration. Her own eyes danced over his body, taking in his trimly muscled chest rising and falling from his own heavy breathing, his tanned skin, his flat, taut stomach. And his obvious appreciation, straining against his jeans, held her eyes for a few moments. She smirked up at him.

“You, too,” she said, her voice low. Part of her brain wished she’d been able to think of something cleverer to say, but to be honest, she didn’t really care. He put his knee on the rock and pulled himself onto it, lowering himself over her, burying his face in the soft skin of her breasts. He kissed them, and gently bit her, his tongue sliding around her nipple, making her shudder against him, pulling his head closer. He moved up, kissing her again, relishing the softness of her lips and tongue as he pushed his tongue inside, tasting her mouth, his thumb rubbing across one of her breasts. He pressed the length of his body against hers, reaching down between her legs, teasing her, never quite touching where she so desperately wanted him to touch. She gasped, and groaned, begging him in a panting, breathless voice to please, please, please...

He finally reached further, quickly plunging his fingers deep inside her, and she cried out, clinging to his shoulders. She was warm, and tantalizingly slippery, and it was all he could do not to imagine what she would feel like surrounding him, all he could do not to take her right then. But he wanted her to enjoy this as much as possible, so he moved his fingers gently upward and finally touched her, and she bucked her hips, rubbing herself against his hand, moaning, her face contorted with desire as he stroked her with a slow, maddeningly uneven rhythm. She reached her hand back, over her head, grasping at the rough surface of the rock, her body squirming against him, her legs sliding around his. He knew she couldn’t take it anymore when she reached a hand between them and none too gently grabbed him through his wet jeans. He gasped, his own hips bucking uncontrollably, and she squeezed him harder. The delicious ache in the pit of his stomach was almost unbearable.

“Daryl, please, I…” her voice was shaking, breathless and gasping, her hand tearing at the buckle of his belt. His hand left her warmth to grab her thigh, the March air cold against her compared to his strong fingers. She managed to get the buckle undone, making quick work of his button and zipper. He let out a strangled moan as he felt her cold fingers wrap around his cock, stroking and teasing. The skin she touched was hot, and silky soft, and hard as the rock they lay on. He reached to stop her fingers from moving, knowing he couldn’t last much longer, needing to not lose himself in her hand, needing to take her with him when he fell over the edge.

“Cat, wait,” he growled, his voice low and raspy. She opened her eyes, and looked at him, understanding. She reached up to cradle his face with both hands, running her thumbs over his high cheekbones. He shifted his weight, hooking both his hands behind her knees, hitching them up around his waist. He struggled to push the wet denim from around his hips, eventually freeing himself, letting out a breathy cry when his stiff cock rubbed against the soft skin of her inner thigh. With the last bit of restraint he had left, he teased her a little bit more, rubbing his hardness against her, sliding the length of himself against her wet lips, never quite entering her. She ground her hips against him and whimpered again, pleading without words. Losing the battle, he slowly rolled his hips and slipped into her with a deep, hoarse moan. She was warm, and so wet he could barely feel her. But as she let out a sharp, groaning cry, she flexed her hips and tightened around him, and he held her closer.

“Oh, god, oh…god…” He kissed her again, deeply, thoroughly, and pulled back to look her in the eyes. She held his gaze as he started to rock his hips, his rhythm slow to begin with but increasing in urgency until they could no longer look at each other, and clung to each other instead. He pressed her knees apart, caressing her thighs, her hips, her breasts, any part of her he could reach. She grasped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, raising welts that he knew would leave marks, but he was beyond caring. Their lips met again, and her lips moved hungrily against his, and she gasped again, as if she were so short of breath she must have his. His tongue plunged into her mouth, mirroring the thrusts of his hips between her legs, and she moaned deeply, and bit his lip, teasing and pulling. The pumping of his hips sped up again, and she matched him, rocking her hips up to meet the thrusts as he changed his angle and filled her more deeply, burying his cock inside her again and again, harder and harder, each time producing a wave of pleasure that radiated through her whole body, tingling in her belly and breasts. She raked her fingernails down the skin of his back, leaving stinging red stripes in their wake, and Daryl let out a growling cry, and with each thrust of his hips she drew closer and closer to the edge.

“Daryl, please, don’t…don’t stop, I…” Cat’s breathless gasps turned to loud moans, increasing in desperation with each stroke of him inside her. His groans joined hers, and his movements became jerky, almost frenzied. Her mouth moved to his shoulder, biting the hard muscle there. He grunted and dug his fingers into her hips, thrusting hard into her over and over, desperate, frantic. Her hands reached down to his hips, and she dug her fingers into his ass, holding him close, keeping him inside her as she arched her back like a bow and jerked her hips, letting out cry after cry, finally blending into one long, loud, throaty moan, as she clenched every muscle in her body, tightening around him, screaming his name.

“Oh, Jesus, oh, god, Cat…oh!” With a final, guttural groan, he came undone, his vision blurring, and a wave of heat spilling through his entire body. His ears were filled with a roaring rush of blood, and his body was instantly warm and lax, his arms suddenly weak and shaking as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. They lay like that, sticky skin drying in the chill air, as their breathing slowly returned to normal. As his hearing returned to normal, he became aware of his pulse still pounding in his ears, slow and deep. He saw the tiny pulse point at the base of Cat’s throat and bent his head down to plant a kiss there. She tilted his head up and met his lips, returning his kiss, her mouth gentle now, and languorous, taking her time to explore his lips. Daryl let out a shuddery sigh and reached up to cradle her cheek, and she laid her hand over his, lacing their fingers together.

“You’re shaking.” Cat’s voice was hoarse from shouting. Daryl glanced away, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable.

“I’m fine,” he said softly. He didn’t want her to know how long it had been, and how much she had affected him. Man the fuck up, Dixon, he though. You’re acting like a damn girl. But when he looked back at her face, still flushed from exertion, her eyes caught his and he was struck by their openness.

“Me too, Daryl,” she said. And he realized she knew. And didn’t care. He smiled, and was filled by a wave of affection as he sat up and stepped off the rock on tired legs, back into the lake’s muddy waters, pulling his jeans back up and buckling his belt. He turned, silently, and reached out to grab her around the waist and help her back into the water as well. He felt grit from the rock stuck to her back, pocking the smooth skin with sand and fast-fading dents.

“You’re gonna need to wash off again,” he said, brushing the dirt from her shoulders. She reached around and felt, then pointed at him.

“And you’re going to need fixing up.” There was sand stuck to both of his forearms, and scrapes on one wrist as well as both palms. He didn’t remember doing any of that. “Here,” Cat said, scooping up some of the water. “Let me.” She took his arm, and sluiced the water over it, gently rubbing away the sand. After she did the same for his other arm, careful to avoid the scrapes, she turned around and lifted her hair away from her neck. “Do me…?” Daryl got a wicked smirk and bent close, fingers creeping around her waist, his body molding to hers. He whispered in her ear.

“I thought I just did…” His gruff voice rumbled low, almost purring, and she shivered with an aftershock of desire. His hot breath tickled her neck as he cupped his hands and poured the cold water over her back. She shivered again, but this time from the chill. Daryl noticed her muscles tense, and saw that the sun was almost completely set behind the trees now. He took her by the shoulders and spun her around to face him. Before she could protest, he scooped her up in his arms and walked the rest of the way back to the lake bank. Cat shrieked, laughing, smacking his shoulders in a feeble attempt to get him to put her down. Once they were on the sandy bank, Daryl deposited her on the grass, and grabbed her towels where she’d hung them on a nearby shrub. He held them out to her.

“Go on and dry off. I’ll meet you at the top of the hill. We need to get back before dark.” He stepped forward, leaning in and captured her mouth once more, his lips easing over hers gently, taking his time. He reluctantly tore himself away with a tiny smile. “Go on…” Cat smiled back and grazed his hand with her cold fingers. He smiled wider and turned and walked up the slope back to the tree line. She watched him go, enjoying the movement of muscles under the skin of his back as he reached up and grabbed saplings for support. Even in the fading light, she could see the scratches she’d left on his shoulders. The scrapes aren’t the only thing I need to take care of back at camp, she thought. She dried off quickly, braiding her hair loosely and slipping into her clean clothes. Making her way back up to the top of the hill, she found Daryl with his crossbow slung over one shoulder and the game hung over the other. She smiled when she saw him, and he grinned back.

“C’mon,” he said, holding his hand out to help her over the last rocks at the top of the rise. “Everyone’s gonna be wanting their dinner.” He hitched the squirrels and the pheasant higher up on his shoulder, and they set off back to camp.

The walk back was just as quiet as the walk out, and just as comfortably so. But it was a different kind of comfortable, and a different kind of quiet.

The pheasant got hung up for tomorrow, and the squirrels made a nice stew for dinner. Between the eleven of them, they’d emptied the pot, and one by one they all drifted off to their respective tents to sleep fitfully through the cold spring night. Eventually it was only Rick, Daryl, and Cat left around the fire. Daryl was sharpening his hunting knife, Rick was reading a paperback novel that was falling to pieces, and Cat was sorting through some of the pheasant’s feathers. As the logs sparked and cracked, sending embers up into the black sky, Rick sighed, stuck a scrap of paper into his book, and stood up, shoving the book into the pocket of his jacket.

“I’ll take first watch. Daryl, I’ll wake you up after about six hours. That suit you?” Daryl nodded, and went back to sharpening his knife, glancing over at Cat before he did so. With the way they both were acting, Rick was positive that something had happened out by the lake. Judging by the way they kept looking at each other, and the hushed, intimate way they kept talking to each other, he had a pretty good guess as to what had happened, but he didn’t really feel it was his place to ask. Cat was a grown woman, and she was very capable of handling herself. And apparently good at handling Daryl, too, Rick thought to himself. He smirked, and snickered, turning it into a cough. Reaching for his rifle where it was leaning against the tree at his back, he walked out toward the cars to give them a small measure of privacy to say whatever it was they needed to say.

Daryl had managed to halfway convince himself that the thing at the lake was a one-time event, and Cat was being nice to him tonight just out of politeness. She doesn’t want me, he thought. She was horny, she needed to get off. He understood. It happened. It happened even before the world went to hell. But that didn’t keep him from being a little disappointed. He was mechanically sharpening his hunting knife when his thoughts were interrupted by Cat yawning and packing up her little fletcher’s kit. She tucked it away in her pack and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. He tried not to look at the sliver of her stomach that showed when she stretched, convinced once more that he would be haunted tonight, except it would be by memories, rather than just images. Which, in some ways, was even worse.

“I’m going to bed,” said Cat, reaching down to grab her pack and sling it over her shoulder. Daryl nodded, staying silent, pretending to concentrate on the edge of his blade. He heard her footsteps moving away from the circle of firelight. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps pause, and then come back. He didn’t even look up until Cat said his name.

“Daryl.” He met her gaze across the dying fire. “Aren’t you coming?” She couldn’t contain a cheeky grin, and the wicked glint she had wasn’t entirely from the firelight reflecting in her dark eyes. He didn’t catch her meaning at first, but when it dawned on him he got a wicked grin of his own. He sheathed his knife and stood up, walking around the fire to follow her. Not just yet, he thought. But I probably will be soon.

When Rick came back to the fire five minutes later to get his canteen, there was no one else there. He smiled to himself and figured he’d check Cat’s tent when it was time for Daryl’s watch.

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Oh, Daryl.