Long Live the King
Pairing: King!Daryl x Fem!Reader Summary: He misses touching you. What your King wants, you make sure he gets. Warnings: Poorly written smut; fingering A/N: Based on the werewolf AU version of Daryl created by @lazyneonrabbitt. I am obsessed with him.
As you sat mounted across his waist, both of you utterly bare, you took a moment just to admire him. He was so beautiful. Every feature that was human along with every attribute that was brought out by the wolf in his blood. The scars from the caged battles that kept you both safe.
“My beautiful King.” It was always endearing to watch the fierce fighter flush red and duck away from your compliments. In the cage, under the spell of the crowd, he vibrated with pride, the roaring cheers fueling him with the energy to perform. It gave him the strength to allow his body even more punishment that would leave him with likely at least one new mark he’d stare at with such disdain later. Not you. You looked at each one with awe, with gratitude, with love.
Leaning forward to bow over him, you kissed his eager mouth. Tongues tangled and explored but you didn’t allow it for long. You sat back, catching your breath while contemplating the words you needed to articulate what you were about to request of him.
“Would you—will you take out the caps?”
Aside from looking shocked, there was a clear apprehension. “Why?”
Tilting your head, you traced one of the scars below his eye with the lightest touch, just a whisper against his skin that had his eyes fluttering closed. “Because I’d like to have all of you tonight, just the way you are.” His lids lifted, blue and milky white watching you.
“Alright.” He was working the tip of a claw beneath the first cap while you reached toward the bedside for the container that would hold and later clean them. Opening the lid, you waited patiently, one hand holding the small box while the other smoothed up and down his chest to keep him grounded. When the last one was dropped into the container and the lid was closed, so was his mouth, lips pressed into a tight line.
“It’s okay, Daryl.” You were leaning down to press your mouth to his, but when you dragged your tongue over the seam of his lips, they remained closed. “Open up for me.”
“Gonna hurtcha.” He whispered, fingertips gliding up and down your sides while keeping his claws angled away from your skin. It took concentration, and sometimes you found that you wanted to feel the sting they would surely offer, the blood that would trickle over your flesh.
“Please trust me.”
And he did. More than anyone in his entire life, all of his trust was placed in you. With the smallest, softest smile, you tried again and this time he obliged, allowing you to lick into his mouth, your tongue brushing his before you were pressing the tip of the muscle against his jagged fang. You didn’t linger, tapping the broken tooth before moving to the next one, continuing your mission until you had shown each one the same gentle attention. Mindful of the broken teeth, you continued to tangle your tongue with his, feeling his erection press against your core, which you knew to be already slick and dripping for him.
“I’ll never understand ya, sweetheart.”
“You don’t need to. I’m a big girl and I know who I want.” You dragged your wet heat up his length and back down, coaxing a moan from him and then from yourself when his tip brushed against your swollen clit. “You make me feel so good, make me feel safe.” His breaths had quickened, hands sliding down your sides, to your hips, his right one carefully moving to explore where you were hot and needy. It happened so quickly. You rolled your hips just as his fingertip brushed your labia, his claw nicking the skin. You rose with a yelp, knowing immediately it had been an accident but the mortification in his expression told that he’d have a hard time accepting that. “It’s okay, Daryl. It’s okay. It was an accident.”
“Fuckin’ cut ya! You’re bleedin’! Fuck!”
Your fingers were pressed against the thin laceration, nothing more than what you could accomplish with a razor while shaping up the tuft of hair above your pussy. “It’s barely a scratch. See?” You held out your hand to show him a simple thin line of red. “I could do worse when I shave.” Daryl was sitting up, stiff from the earlier fight, and moving you from his lap whilst shaking his head so hard that his tied back hair was coming loose.
“Nah. Can’t do this. I hurtcha.”
You caught his shoulders as he tried to leave the bed, molding yourself against his back with quiet shushing sounds. “I promise it’s okay. I’m not afraid.” He rocked back and forth against you, moving your body along with him, murmurs of what sounded dangerously like I’m just a monster repeated over and over. “Daryl.” He didn’t respond. “Daryl, do you want to touch me?” He angled his head quickly, unable to see you with that eye, but he was listening. “I want you to touch me there, but do you want to touch me?” His chin lowered.
“Yes.” He whispered.
You nodded against the back of his shoulder, turning your face into his skin to lightly kiss the scarred flesh. “Then I have something for you.” He twisted at the waist to face you entirely, brow knitted. You touched his jaw gently before turning and crawling to the bedside table to open the drawer, pulling out an intricate box with the brand of the designer on the lid. You didn’t know the man, saw him with a hood hiding your face. It was better that way. You had provided the best measurements that you could and hoped they would suffice. Shuffling on your knees back to Daryl, you offered the gift.
He was hesitant, but one clawed hand finally accepted the case and turned it over and around with such curiosity. He gave you another quizzical glance before removing the top, his eyes squinting at the contents. “What is it?” Inside were five almost identical replicas of his claws, the ends rounded and dull. “I don’t—”
“I would use this glue,” you removed the styrofoam separator and held up the tube that lay underneath, “and put these over your claws. You could touch me.”
“How—I can’t fight with these.” He was holding one of the caps between two claws, scrutinizing every angle. You shook your head with a chuckle.
“We soak them in warm water after and they come off. The glue dissolves.” Shifting closer, you kissed his shoulder, just above his bicep. “You could touch me anytime you wanted once we’re safe here in our room.” His hand lowered, his head tilted as he stared at you, eyes shining. The beast that ripped others limb from limb inside a cage was your softest lover behind closed doors. He was extraordinary and he was yours. “Only if you want. I’ve had them for a while, but I didn’t want to pressure you or make you think anything about you needed to change.”
He was quiet for a moment, simply staring at you but you could feel the love and adoration radiating from him in waves. He handed you the box but before you could even dare think he didn’t want it, he presented his right hand. You sighed in relief, so thankful that you hadn’t upset him. In fact, you could almost see a hint of excitement in the way he watched you apply the caps.
“Okay!” You exclaimed as you released his hand. “Now we just wait for the glue to dry and oomf!” His mouth was on yours, kissing you carefully but desperately, like he’d never tasted your lips before that moment. You allowed him to guide you onto your back, but you stayed at your side, using the new caps to grip your waist firmly with a low groan. What sounded so erotic actually made your heart clench. He was so satisfied with being able to fully touch you that you could feel his cock twitch against your thigh. You shifted yourself onto your side, facing him while your smaller hand encircled his wrist, lifting his palm to your breast. “Touch me however you like, King. You would never hurt me but now you don’t need to worry that you can.”
He exhaled in a rush, his mouth on yours, his large hand squeezing, kneading the soft mound, using the blunt tips of the caps to pinch your nipple. The casings were still hard, so he was careful but it was enough stimulation to have you arching toward him with a drawn out moan.
“Fuck.” It came out in a shaky breath, his hips jerking against your thighs.
Somehow fighting your way through the haze of lust that was slowly overtaking your senses, you studied him, knowing exactly what he wanted; what he needed. Once again, you took hold of his wrist and guided him to the warm, wet apex of your thighs. The glue had certainly dried and the heat you were steering him toward would not be enough to dissolve it—because you were almost certain it would take you mere moments to orgasm once he touched you.
One blunt claw skimmed across your labia and it was enough to have you arching and moaning his name, drawing out a whimper from the man at your side. You pushed your hips closer, his cock trapped between your bodies while he used a single clawed finger to prod at your entrance, still seemingly unsure.
“It’s okay, Daryl. I want it.” You ground your hips down and tried to take him in but he moved his hand just in time. “I need you, King. I promise if it hurts at all, I’ll tell you to stop, okay?” It was always about his pleasure when in your quarters. He gave so much outside of that door that he deserved nothing less than to be treated like royalty. And he wanted this. You wanted him to have it, though you couldn’t lie. You wanted it just as much.
He was hesitating, studying you, before tentatively dipping the tip of the claw into your wet heat. Your walls clenched in a desperate attempt to pull him inside. It was almost new to feel like you like this, something from long ago, a memory to which the wolf in him forbade access. Daryl probed deeper, stopping at the first knuckle while his good eye watched your chest begin to heave.
“It’s okay. Keep going. It feels good.” You panted. Ever so slowly, so gently, he slipped in until the heel of his palm was flush against your skin. You arched toward with a guttural moan, a hand gripping his bicep. When he didn’t move—either too lost in the awe of watching you, of remembering, or too afraid to hurt you—you took the initiative to begin rocking your hips, grinding your stiff clit against his palm.
The sound he made was almost a purr, pleased and content. He began to move with you, pulling the digit nearly free when you rocked back and sliding home when you pushed toward him.
“I remember.” He whispered. You knew what he meant and didn’t let him dwell, capturing his lips and snaking your arm beneath the one he was using to work at you. Your fingers danced down his spine, nails raking back up only to repeat the movement. The second time, however, you moved your fingertips all the way down the base of his tail stub.
“I’m glad you do, but things are different now.” You kissed him again, soothing any worry your words may have conjured. With your lips brushing his, you continued. “And that’s okay. You’re still my Daryl. You’re just my King now too. That’s never going to change.” The final word broke off as another digit was worked into your slick cunt, the claw caps bumping that spongey bundle of nerves deep inside of you with each thrust of his hand.
You knew he was self conscious about the small tail that remained when he would shift back. You were still trying to help him work through that. There were parts of the wolf that he had accepted would persist, stay with him forever, but this one was shameful to him. He was embarrassed, though you couldn’t understand why. He needed to work through it on his own but you were there to help. Always. With gentle movements, you found that spot that always had him in a frenzy within moments, and began to massage it with the lightest pressure. It didn’t take much.
“C’mon, darlin’, ya know how I—” The words fell away to somewhere unknown, a drawn out groan vibrating from deep within his chest. He was rutting against you, his cock sliding between your tightly pressed bodies while he continued to finger-fuck you straight into oblivion. The experience was unique, likely not attempted or even thought of by anyone else. Then again, your relationship itself was unique. The other handlers possessed wild beasts that had either lost or never had any humanity. And you had your King.
“I’m gonna cum.” You warned softly, slotting your mouth over his once again, always mindful of the sharp edges of the broken teeth. He rutted and you rocked, chasing your bliss together, as one. You could feel his cock twitching, your attentiveness to his nubbed tail in conjunction with the friction of your body and his was sure to be his undoing. His claw-capped fingers and rough palm on your clit was lifting you higher and higher until you tumbled off the precipice with a cry. “Fuck, King, yes yes yes!”
The knot at the base of his human cock was pulsating as he followed you over, spilling onto your stomach and chest, as well as his own. He grunted and whimpered, bending forward to hide his face against your shoulder. Daryl continued to thrust lazily, even after you had stopped massaging him, His fingers continued to drag inside you with a slow push and pull that prolonged your ecstasy. Finally, you were both still, intent on catching your breath.
“Daryl.” You breathed, urging him to lift his head. He obliged, his face remaining downcast. “Look at me.” He did. You took a moment to just burn the image to memory, but didn’t stare too long lest he become anxious. “You don’t ever need to hide from me.” His fingers were slipping out of you while you pulled your arm from beneath his to place your palm against his cheek. “You’re beautiful to me. And you always will be.”