Stress Relief
The moment Rick actually drops to his knees, Daryl’s body starts kicking into gear. It’d been too long. Longer than Daryl could bother to think about, and with the prison falling he’d almost been sure that he was never going to see Rick again, let alone touch him. Swallowing hard, he nods and cards the fingers of a hand through dark strands. "Alright, alright. Whatever y’say, hoss." Things had changed between them a bit when Rick’s personality shifted. Rick no longer had those soft edges; he was jagged. Sharp. Something to be touched and met with caution —- but still very much someone that Daryl loved. This wasn’t about their emotions, wasn’t about how happy they were to see each other alive… A few nights ago Rick had torn out the jugular of another man with only his teeth. Those men were going to kill them all — do horrible things beforehand. The stress was still something that clung to their bones and made muscles hurt, and even with changes Rick remained the person who could always spot when Daryl’s tension was being pushed to far. Daryl would always function as Rick’s right hand, would always take his advice and follow his orders, even if he wasn’t sure of them at first. If this was something they needed, he wasn’t going to turn it down. Back against the vehicle, he lets Rick deal with his belt and the bindings to his pants, suddenly aware of nerves causing a fluttering sensation in his stomach. Brows knit and he watches, always watches, as fingers move —- and he can’t help but admire the older man’s determination.
Once Rick was able to pull Daryls belt through the loops of his jeans and unfasten the button that paired with the release of the zipper, Rick stuffed his hands into Daryl's boxers and pulled him free. Daryls length dangled in front of Ricks face before fingers wrap around the shaft and start to stroke him slowly up and down. When they were alone and behind 'bars', Rick would have been more tender and gentle with the hunter and perhaps throw in a little build up before he would suck him off. But that wasn't the case---not right now anyways. Time was running short and he had to be quick.
Swirling his tongue around the head of Daryls member, Rick closed his lips around the top and started to bob his head. Blues hues kept contact with the archers own of the same color with every movement of Ricks head when he looked up. The feeling of Daryl's hands roaming through the ex-sheriffs thick black locks of hair alone could have set a bundle of nerves to stir up in the lower part of his body. Even if that did happen, there would be no time to take care of it and Rick would have to walk with an awkward erection in his pants.
