[fic] East of Eden
Title: East of Eden
Author: badboy_fangirl
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters/Pairings: Beth & Daryl POV; Daryl/Beth.
Word Count: ~3200
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 / Post-episode 4x10 "Inmates."
Summary:
Author's notes: Title lifted from the movie--just carrying the James Dean theme through to its natural conclusion :-)
Previous Chapters: In the same universe as Blue Jean Beauty Queen and Cool, Like James Dean and show me what this life is for.
She's lying beneath Daryl, her body feeling empty of bones, and she closes her eyes to watch James Dean float across that movie screen in her head.
East of Eden.
She thinks she knows what that means now.
Beth hugs Maggie goodbye, Maggie, through tears, vows she'll come back with Glenn, and when they let go of one of another, Beth knows she needs to find someone in the camp who has pen and paper. She might have burned her journal, but she needs to write down some important things her sister told her.
You know, just in case.
Daryl is very kind in those days following Maggie's departure. He's not walking around telling everybody Beth is his girl or whatever, and she'd probably die of a heart attack if he ever did anything like that, but he's not keeping his distance like he was. He doesn't force a smile when he looks at her anymore. He doesn't shy away if she walks close to him.
Beth is patient. Beth is James Dean.
It's funny, really. She thought Daryl was James Dean, and then she tried to do the right thing, the thing that would get her what she wanted eventually, and it's actually working, so she gets it now.
She's James Dean.
Yeah, that's right. Suck on that, broken world. Beth Greene? She's gonna get the guy she wants, and survive the Walker apocalypse, and maybe even be happy.
It's this crazy little miracle that nobody, especially not her, saw coming.
She makes a friend in the group of people who have already been at Terminus for a while. It's Cooper's girlfriend, Melinda. After he brings the fish, Beth makes a habit of going over to their tent everyday to make a swap of some sort. To her, it's just good sense to have a trade route, but a friendship blooms, too, and it feels nice.
It's also enough to make her very bold, especially once she thinks she has Daryl where she wants him.
She comes back to her own tent one day with fish, and peaches from a orchard on the far side of the camp, and something else. Something else that causes her to grin real big, and gets Carol to ask, "What?"
Beth just shakes her head. She isn't telling anybody anything.
Daryl pokes his head inside her tent flap that evening and says, "Cooper said I should take the night off, so you wanna go for a walk or something?"
Beth swings her flashlight his way and smiles. "Sure. That sounds nice."
She grabs her flannel shirt and steps out into the cool night. The thing is, since Maggie left four days ago, Daryl's been coming to her tent. The first night he came because he could hear her crying, so he scooped her up and held her tight. She fell asleep at some point, and when she woke, he was gone. He returned when his patrol shift was over, all but shuffling his feet on her make-believe doorstep and saying, "I had to go to work. I didn't leave--I didn't wantcha to think I left you."
It's funny how he does these things that she finds absolutely adorable, because two months ago she wouldn't have crossed Daryl Dixon's name with adorable, like, ever. But he is. He's so cute he makes her chest hurt and she just wants him so bad, in every way one person can want another that sometimes it's like she's choking on all the feelings he causes inside her.
Being cute would be way down on the list, if she was keeping a list. Maybe she'll keep a list. Maybe that's something else she should write down, just in case.
When he came back that morning to apologize, she'd invited him to sleep there if he wanted while she tended to her chores. He didn't have a tent, having given up the three allotted to their group to those they'd decided needed the shelter more. It had been a natural transition, and they were only sharing sleeping quarters, and they weren't even sleeping at the same time.
(Don't worry, Beth has a plan.)
They don't walk far from camp, but Daryl takes her hand before she can make a move on him, and the tight feeling in her chest loosens rapidly into this soaring sensation. For half a moment she's afraid her body might just rise straight up, like a helium balloon, and float away in some kind of ecstatic agony.
She can't speak, even if she wanted to, because her throat is full of all the words she would give him if he would just let her.
(But remember, she's James Dean. She's doing this by following his lead. Or at least acting like she's following his lead.)
His fingers squeeze around hers, so she returns the pressure. "I talked to Rick," Daryl announces before clearing his throat noisily. Then he adds, "About us."
As if that weren't clear. Beth turns her head away and barely represses a smile. Still, she manages to make her voice a bit sharp when she responds with, "Did he give his blessing?"
She still doesn't care what anyone thinks. Well, check that, since Maggie was in full support, she felt she could afford to not care about anyone else, and she truly didn't, so it was a win-win.
Daryl makes a grunting sound that might be annoyance or chagrin, Beth can't really tell. "Aw, c'mon," he mumbles.
Beth stops their progression and turns to look up into his face. The sun has set, but there's still enough light in the dusk for them to see each other. "Maggie told me something Daddy said to her, and now I'm tellin' you, okay? So just listen. It was when he was helping everyone who was sick when we were still at the prison. He said that one way or another we're gonna die in this world, and he was choosing the way he'd go: helping those people. That was my dad, always hoping to help, to do good. I guess it sorta rubbed off on me, without me even realizing it. But Maggie told me that so I'd understand why she had to go after Glenn, you know, in case she doesn't come back. It's the choice she can make, and she made it. You're my choice, Daryl Dixon. You can tell me no, and you can find all the people who will back you up and say it's wrong, but in case you missed it, I don't give a shit. I--"
She doesn't get to finish, which is unfortunate because she's really on a roll, all the things in her heart gliding off her tongue perfectly, but words aren't necessary when he grabs her and presses his mouth over hers. It stops her breath, and her speech, and her very thoughts until her body just curls up into his, remembering and recognizing where it belongs.
His lips are firm, but his tongue is what turns her knees to jelly. She sags against him, but that's okay because his arms surround her and she's closer to him than she's been in nearly two weeks, though still not close enough.
She's really glad they hadn't walked too far from her tent; it won't take long to get back. She slides her hands up his shoulders to grip his neck, tugging him back gently so that she can speak again. "I've got something for you, in my tent," she whispers and his hips arch spasmodically against hers. She revels in what she can feel, and what it means, and how finally, finally, they can do something about it.
"Beth, we ain't gotta--"
"Oh, hush," she says and somehow she makes her legs work properly to lead him home. It had always been her idea, she knew they ain't gotta do anything. But she wants to do it all, with Daryl, forever.
Once they're back inside the tent, there are fumbling hands shoving outer shirts off shoulders, and undershirts up stomachs, and jeans over hips. Daryl runs his palms down her bare legs as he kneels to shove them off, and this hissing sound comes from between his clenched teeth. Beth smiles, feels the power that this has always given her, that he has always given her by letting himself be vulnerable. Now, he lets himself be vulnerable in many ways, but at first, it was only here, in the quiet panting breaths that issued from his lungs when they touched each other in the dark.
He doesn't comment, even though his hands are smoothing up and down her calves worshipfully, so she does. "I shaved my legs," she says around a giggle. "I'm like a real, live girl." His lips stop her words briefly as he quickly stands back up. Then he pulls back to breathe against the corner of her mouth, "You've always been a real, live girl. And you're fuckin' killin' me," he says, his voice a low throb she feels deep in her belly.
They're still standing and Beth uses her feet to push Daryl's jeans the rest of the way down, their socks and shoes kicked aside simultaneously. She steps closer to him so their bare bodies brush, and then she tells him the news she's been bursting with for the better part of the day. "I have condoms," she says, and she swears his cock grows harder, twitching against her abdomen.
"Beth..."
"Melinda gave them to me. Seven of them. I have seven of them. Seven condoms, Daryl, seven--"
"Stop," he begs, but she knows he means the words, not her actions, so she falls silent, but she never stops touching him. She doesn't think she could even if he asked her. Her fingers skim his shoulders and his chest, the inside of his elbows and his flanks. "Wait," he whisper-moans. "Who the hell's Melinda?"
Beth throws her head back, laughing, and then she's hanging around his neck, using her weight to pull him down to the floor of the tent, to where she'd rearranged her bedding. She knew they would break the cot she and Maggie had shared, so she didn't even chance it.
Daryl puts his hands out to catch his body before it comes down into full contact with hers as she falls beneath him. Beth kisses his chin and his throat, and murmurs, "Melinda is Cooper's girlfriend."
He nods, his hair tickling her cheek, and makes a satisfied sound. Then his lips find hers again.
"I love you," she says softly, in his ear, while he's still laying atop her.
His chest shudders against hers, maybe in residual spasms of their pleasure, or maybe in doubt, she's not sure. But she tightens her hands against his lower back in reassurance, in hope. His lips brush over her earlobe as he pulls away. In the dark she can only feel his movements, not see what he's doing, but she's pretty sure he's tying off the condom and tossing it to the corner of the tent near the flap.
Then he lays back down next to her, and slides his arm under her shoulders to curl her into his side.
He sighs deeply. "I love you, too, Beth. But you know that, don'tcha?"
She nods against his shoulder.
"Rick said, 'Congratulations,' by the way, when I told him that I thought me and you were gonna make a go of this. You didn't really let me tell you what he said."
"You interrupted me, too," she says with a smile.
"Ha," he mumbles, his lips nestling into the hair on the top of her head.
"So, we're gonna make a go of this?" she reiterates when he remains quiet.
"If'n you want."
She pokes his side. "Seven condoms, babe. I want."
He laughs quietly beside her. "Six condoms, now," he corrects. "But let's try not to use 'em up in one night."
Beth wraps her arm around his waist and murmurs an agreement, even though the idea makes her pulse race.
Normally, he'd touch every inch of her first, but he can tell she don't wanna wait, and he sure as hell don't either, so when she nips at his bottom lip and then pushes him to the side so she can reach for her stash, he tries to catch his breath.
The worst part is he ain't gonna last for shit, and he knows it. Inside her. Inside Beth. He could come just thinking about it, so actually being there is gonna be...explosive.
He's trying to think of a way to tell her this when he hears the sound of a foil packet being torn open. It's so loud to his ears, he wonders if the whole damn camp heard it. "Um, Daryl?" she whispers. "I don't really..."
Her hand is against his stomach, and gliding southward gently. Her fingers brush against the hair below his belly button and he sucks in a breath because he'd almost forgotten that.
It's Beth's signature move. He thinks of it as the Ultimate Cock Tease, except that Beth never makes him wait. She just always strokes the line affectionately ("This is called a Happy Trail, you know," she said, giggling madly as she added, "and I can see why, because it makes you so happy when I do this!") and then takes him firmly in her palm.
He takes the Lord's name in vain, and then quickly apologizes because it offends Beth when he does that, but it's like she doesn't hear him anyway, because she says, "I've never put a condom on anyone before."
She sounds a little scared, and a lot turned on, and something possesses him for a short moment that isn't strictly lust because he manages to ask, "You have done this before, though, right?"
She nods, her hair moving over the arm he's got himself propped up on. "Yeah, me and Jimmy...one time. It wasn't very...well, but--"
"He go off like a bottle rocket?" Daryl asks, not because he wants to know about past lovers, but because at least she'll know what the hell is happening when he does the same fucking thing.
She snickers. "Well, yeah, but it was his first time, and mine, so you know--"
He steadies himself on the elbow he's got resting on her pillow. "It's you, Beth. You have that affect on men," but he's grinning as he says it, and he doesn't know what it is, but there's just no shame in the moment. He's not self-conscious. He knows Beth will accept him no matter what.
He wraps his hand around hers, feeling for the rubber with his thumb. It gets really hot and sweet between them right there, and the sudden knowledge that he'll be able to hold out for her hits him.
Beth makes all things possible, from the ground up. He has no idea how this happened to him, but he's not throwing it away a second time. "I'll show you," he whispers, and putting his hand over hers, he guides her fingers to the head of his cock. It's torture, letting her do it, but if he has to die, he can't think of a better way to go.
When it's rolled all the way up, Beth's lips find his. "Please, now, Daryl," and it's an aching, needy breath that makes him feel like the fucking winner of the Daytona 500. All that speed, and a million dollars, too.
He climbs between her legs, but puts his fingers there first. She's crazy wet, and he slides two inside her, just to test her out a bit. She gasps and arches up into him. He strokes her a few times and then adds a third finger.
When the Lord's name falls from between her lips, he knows it's all good.
He hears her say I love you, but for all the blood rushing in his ears, it's like she's at the end of a long tunnel calling back to him.
It doesn't change the fact that it pierces his heart with the same bloody result as killing a Walker. He feels like he's gushing out, all over her, and that no rubber can protect her, or him, or anyone from it.
This is it; for whatever the rest of his life is, it will be him and Beth. And when they run out of rubbers, it'll be him and Beth and whoever else comes along.
He tells her they won't use them all in one night, but he's probably lying.
The sun is making its first appearance just as Daryl's world explodes for the fourth time in less than 12 hours. Beth is sitting on top of him, and she's fucking beautiful, her hair wild and her naked breasts flushed, and a distinctly smug look on her face as she peers down at him. They woulda been out of rubbers if he hadn't fallen asleep like a pussy, and if Beth hadn't let him sleep for like six hours because he looked like he needed it.
He never did tell her that he never managed to get more than four hours at a stretch since they stopped sleeping together, so he figures she's right. He just didn't want to waste time with something as stupid as sleeping.
But, back to the sun, which is giving them enough light now that he saw Beth's face when she was coming, and he knows that sight will be enough inspiration for the three they got left.
She snuggles down into his chest, and he sighs in blissful contentment. Whatever, he's a pussy. A fucking happy pussy and he don't care.
"I wanna ask you something," he says now, and he feels Beth's cheek plump up against his chest. She's smiling, because she knows he's whipped. She's thrilled. She's got him and that's what she's wanted--for a while now. And that's his question. "You 'member, our first night together? You said you'd wanted me to touch you, for a long time. When? When did you want me?"
Really what he wonders is why, but he'll settle for when.
She shrugs. "After we got to the prison. You were just all...you know, brave, and tough, and..." He jostles her a little, and she adds a bit shyly, "Sexy? I guess. I didn't really know how sexy back then, obviously. You just always--like when Zach died, you came to tell me, and you had a reason and all, but lots of times, after you went out on a run, you'd come tell me stuff. You always reported back. To my dad, or Rick, or Carol, you always came and told us, checked on us, asked what we needed the next time you went out."
She presses her face tighter into his body. "You were never gonna go for me, so it's not like I advertised. I kinda thought...maybe you and Carol..."
He puts a hand on the back of her head, hugging her against him. "Eh. It's not like that with us. We're like family. The kind you're born into, you know, not the kind you..." he trails off, his eyes popping open. Yeah, sex definitely makes him a dumb shit.
He shoulda latched on to the thing about how he would have never gone for her, corrected that crazy idea, but no, instead his mouth just ran away from him. Fuck.
Beth is like the softest, warmest, best blanket he's ever slept under, her relaxation is so complete, and since she takes a minute to respond he thinks (hopes) maybe she's close to falling asleep when she murmurs, "Not the kind you...what?" she asks.
Her cheek is plump again.
"Go to sleep, Greene," he commands, though his voice is so soft and tender, it gives him away as much as anything else.
She presses a kiss to his shoulder. "Yes, Mr. Dixon," she says solemnly.
Daryl does not think about what it would be like to call her Mrs. Dixon.
(Really, he doesn't.)
Author: badboy_fangirl
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters/Pairings: Beth & Daryl POV; Daryl/Beth.
Word Count: ~3200
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 / Post-episode 4x10 "Inmates."
Summary:
Author's notes: Title lifted from the movie--just carrying the James Dean theme through to its natural conclusion :-)
Previous Chapters: In the same universe as Blue Jean Beauty Queen and Cool, Like James Dean and show me what this life is for.
She's lying beneath Daryl, her body feeling empty of bones, and she closes her eyes to watch James Dean float across that movie screen in her head.
East of Eden.
She thinks she knows what that means now.
Beth hugs Maggie goodbye, Maggie, through tears, vows she'll come back with Glenn, and when they let go of one of another, Beth knows she needs to find someone in the camp who has pen and paper. She might have burned her journal, but she needs to write down some important things her sister told her.
You know, just in case.
Daryl is very kind in those days following Maggie's departure. He's not walking around telling everybody Beth is his girl or whatever, and she'd probably die of a heart attack if he ever did anything like that, but he's not keeping his distance like he was. He doesn't force a smile when he looks at her anymore. He doesn't shy away if she walks close to him.
Beth is patient. Beth is James Dean.
It's funny, really. She thought Daryl was James Dean, and then she tried to do the right thing, the thing that would get her what she wanted eventually, and it's actually working, so she gets it now.
She's James Dean.
Yeah, that's right. Suck on that, broken world. Beth Greene? She's gonna get the guy she wants, and survive the Walker apocalypse, and maybe even be happy.
It's this crazy little miracle that nobody, especially not her, saw coming.
She makes a friend in the group of people who have already been at Terminus for a while. It's Cooper's girlfriend, Melinda. After he brings the fish, Beth makes a habit of going over to their tent everyday to make a swap of some sort. To her, it's just good sense to have a trade route, but a friendship blooms, too, and it feels nice.
It's also enough to make her very bold, especially once she thinks she has Daryl where she wants him.
She comes back to her own tent one day with fish, and peaches from a orchard on the far side of the camp, and something else. Something else that causes her to grin real big, and gets Carol to ask, "What?"
Beth just shakes her head. She isn't telling anybody anything.
Daryl pokes his head inside her tent flap that evening and says, "Cooper said I should take the night off, so you wanna go for a walk or something?"
Beth swings her flashlight his way and smiles. "Sure. That sounds nice."
She grabs her flannel shirt and steps out into the cool night. The thing is, since Maggie left four days ago, Daryl's been coming to her tent. The first night he came because he could hear her crying, so he scooped her up and held her tight. She fell asleep at some point, and when she woke, he was gone. He returned when his patrol shift was over, all but shuffling his feet on her make-believe doorstep and saying, "I had to go to work. I didn't leave--I didn't wantcha to think I left you."
It's funny how he does these things that she finds absolutely adorable, because two months ago she wouldn't have crossed Daryl Dixon's name with adorable, like, ever. But he is. He's so cute he makes her chest hurt and she just wants him so bad, in every way one person can want another that sometimes it's like she's choking on all the feelings he causes inside her.
Being cute would be way down on the list, if she was keeping a list. Maybe she'll keep a list. Maybe that's something else she should write down, just in case.
When he came back that morning to apologize, she'd invited him to sleep there if he wanted while she tended to her chores. He didn't have a tent, having given up the three allotted to their group to those they'd decided needed the shelter more. It had been a natural transition, and they were only sharing sleeping quarters, and they weren't even sleeping at the same time.
(Don't worry, Beth has a plan.)
They don't walk far from camp, but Daryl takes her hand before she can make a move on him, and the tight feeling in her chest loosens rapidly into this soaring sensation. For half a moment she's afraid her body might just rise straight up, like a helium balloon, and float away in some kind of ecstatic agony.
She can't speak, even if she wanted to, because her throat is full of all the words she would give him if he would just let her.
(But remember, she's James Dean. She's doing this by following his lead. Or at least acting like she's following his lead.)
His fingers squeeze around hers, so she returns the pressure. "I talked to Rick," Daryl announces before clearing his throat noisily. Then he adds, "About us."
As if that weren't clear. Beth turns her head away and barely represses a smile. Still, she manages to make her voice a bit sharp when she responds with, "Did he give his blessing?"
She still doesn't care what anyone thinks. Well, check that, since Maggie was in full support, she felt she could afford to not care about anyone else, and she truly didn't, so it was a win-win.
Daryl makes a grunting sound that might be annoyance or chagrin, Beth can't really tell. "Aw, c'mon," he mumbles.
Beth stops their progression and turns to look up into his face. The sun has set, but there's still enough light in the dusk for them to see each other. "Maggie told me something Daddy said to her, and now I'm tellin' you, okay? So just listen. It was when he was helping everyone who was sick when we were still at the prison. He said that one way or another we're gonna die in this world, and he was choosing the way he'd go: helping those people. That was my dad, always hoping to help, to do good. I guess it sorta rubbed off on me, without me even realizing it. But Maggie told me that so I'd understand why she had to go after Glenn, you know, in case she doesn't come back. It's the choice she can make, and she made it. You're my choice, Daryl Dixon. You can tell me no, and you can find all the people who will back you up and say it's wrong, but in case you missed it, I don't give a shit. I--"
She doesn't get to finish, which is unfortunate because she's really on a roll, all the things in her heart gliding off her tongue perfectly, but words aren't necessary when he grabs her and presses his mouth over hers. It stops her breath, and her speech, and her very thoughts until her body just curls up into his, remembering and recognizing where it belongs.
His lips are firm, but his tongue is what turns her knees to jelly. She sags against him, but that's okay because his arms surround her and she's closer to him than she's been in nearly two weeks, though still not close enough.
She's really glad they hadn't walked too far from her tent; it won't take long to get back. She slides her hands up his shoulders to grip his neck, tugging him back gently so that she can speak again. "I've got something for you, in my tent," she whispers and his hips arch spasmodically against hers. She revels in what she can feel, and what it means, and how finally, finally, they can do something about it.
"Beth, we ain't gotta--"
"Oh, hush," she says and somehow she makes her legs work properly to lead him home. It had always been her idea, she knew they ain't gotta do anything. But she wants to do it all, with Daryl, forever.
Once they're back inside the tent, there are fumbling hands shoving outer shirts off shoulders, and undershirts up stomachs, and jeans over hips. Daryl runs his palms down her bare legs as he kneels to shove them off, and this hissing sound comes from between his clenched teeth. Beth smiles, feels the power that this has always given her, that he has always given her by letting himself be vulnerable. Now, he lets himself be vulnerable in many ways, but at first, it was only here, in the quiet panting breaths that issued from his lungs when they touched each other in the dark.
He doesn't comment, even though his hands are smoothing up and down her calves worshipfully, so she does. "I shaved my legs," she says around a giggle. "I'm like a real, live girl." His lips stop her words briefly as he quickly stands back up. Then he pulls back to breathe against the corner of her mouth, "You've always been a real, live girl. And you're fuckin' killin' me," he says, his voice a low throb she feels deep in her belly.
They're still standing and Beth uses her feet to push Daryl's jeans the rest of the way down, their socks and shoes kicked aside simultaneously. She steps closer to him so their bare bodies brush, and then she tells him the news she's been bursting with for the better part of the day. "I have condoms," she says, and she swears his cock grows harder, twitching against her abdomen.
"Beth..."
"Melinda gave them to me. Seven of them. I have seven of them. Seven condoms, Daryl, seven--"
"Stop," he begs, but she knows he means the words, not her actions, so she falls silent, but she never stops touching him. She doesn't think she could even if he asked her. Her fingers skim his shoulders and his chest, the inside of his elbows and his flanks. "Wait," he whisper-moans. "Who the hell's Melinda?"
Beth throws her head back, laughing, and then she's hanging around his neck, using her weight to pull him down to the floor of the tent, to where she'd rearranged her bedding. She knew they would break the cot she and Maggie had shared, so she didn't even chance it.
Daryl puts his hands out to catch his body before it comes down into full contact with hers as she falls beneath him. Beth kisses his chin and his throat, and murmurs, "Melinda is Cooper's girlfriend."
He nods, his hair tickling her cheek, and makes a satisfied sound. Then his lips find hers again.
"I love you," she says softly, in his ear, while he's still laying atop her.
His chest shudders against hers, maybe in residual spasms of their pleasure, or maybe in doubt, she's not sure. But she tightens her hands against his lower back in reassurance, in hope. His lips brush over her earlobe as he pulls away. In the dark she can only feel his movements, not see what he's doing, but she's pretty sure he's tying off the condom and tossing it to the corner of the tent near the flap.
Then he lays back down next to her, and slides his arm under her shoulders to curl her into his side.
He sighs deeply. "I love you, too, Beth. But you know that, don'tcha?"
She nods against his shoulder.
"Rick said, 'Congratulations,' by the way, when I told him that I thought me and you were gonna make a go of this. You didn't really let me tell you what he said."
"You interrupted me, too," she says with a smile.
"Ha," he mumbles, his lips nestling into the hair on the top of her head.
"So, we're gonna make a go of this?" she reiterates when he remains quiet.
"If'n you want."
She pokes his side. "Seven condoms, babe. I want."
He laughs quietly beside her. "Six condoms, now," he corrects. "But let's try not to use 'em up in one night."
Beth wraps her arm around his waist and murmurs an agreement, even though the idea makes her pulse race.
Normally, he'd touch every inch of her first, but he can tell she don't wanna wait, and he sure as hell don't either, so when she nips at his bottom lip and then pushes him to the side so she can reach for her stash, he tries to catch his breath.
The worst part is he ain't gonna last for shit, and he knows it. Inside her. Inside Beth. He could come just thinking about it, so actually being there is gonna be...explosive.
He's trying to think of a way to tell her this when he hears the sound of a foil packet being torn open. It's so loud to his ears, he wonders if the whole damn camp heard it. "Um, Daryl?" she whispers. "I don't really..."
Her hand is against his stomach, and gliding southward gently. Her fingers brush against the hair below his belly button and he sucks in a breath because he'd almost forgotten that.
It's Beth's signature move. He thinks of it as the Ultimate Cock Tease, except that Beth never makes him wait. She just always strokes the line affectionately ("This is called a Happy Trail, you know," she said, giggling madly as she added, "and I can see why, because it makes you so happy when I do this!") and then takes him firmly in her palm.
He takes the Lord's name in vain, and then quickly apologizes because it offends Beth when he does that, but it's like she doesn't hear him anyway, because she says, "I've never put a condom on anyone before."
She sounds a little scared, and a lot turned on, and something possesses him for a short moment that isn't strictly lust because he manages to ask, "You have done this before, though, right?"
She nods, her hair moving over the arm he's got himself propped up on. "Yeah, me and Jimmy...one time. It wasn't very...well, but--"
"He go off like a bottle rocket?" Daryl asks, not because he wants to know about past lovers, but because at least she'll know what the hell is happening when he does the same fucking thing.
She snickers. "Well, yeah, but it was his first time, and mine, so you know--"
He steadies himself on the elbow he's got resting on her pillow. "It's you, Beth. You have that affect on men," but he's grinning as he says it, and he doesn't know what it is, but there's just no shame in the moment. He's not self-conscious. He knows Beth will accept him no matter what.
He wraps his hand around hers, feeling for the rubber with his thumb. It gets really hot and sweet between them right there, and the sudden knowledge that he'll be able to hold out for her hits him.
Beth makes all things possible, from the ground up. He has no idea how this happened to him, but he's not throwing it away a second time. "I'll show you," he whispers, and putting his hand over hers, he guides her fingers to the head of his cock. It's torture, letting her do it, but if he has to die, he can't think of a better way to go.
When it's rolled all the way up, Beth's lips find his. "Please, now, Daryl," and it's an aching, needy breath that makes him feel like the fucking winner of the Daytona 500. All that speed, and a million dollars, too.
He climbs between her legs, but puts his fingers there first. She's crazy wet, and he slides two inside her, just to test her out a bit. She gasps and arches up into him. He strokes her a few times and then adds a third finger.
When the Lord's name falls from between her lips, he knows it's all good.
He hears her say I love you, but for all the blood rushing in his ears, it's like she's at the end of a long tunnel calling back to him.
It doesn't change the fact that it pierces his heart with the same bloody result as killing a Walker. He feels like he's gushing out, all over her, and that no rubber can protect her, or him, or anyone from it.
This is it; for whatever the rest of his life is, it will be him and Beth. And when they run out of rubbers, it'll be him and Beth and whoever else comes along.
He tells her they won't use them all in one night, but he's probably lying.
The sun is making its first appearance just as Daryl's world explodes for the fourth time in less than 12 hours. Beth is sitting on top of him, and she's fucking beautiful, her hair wild and her naked breasts flushed, and a distinctly smug look on her face as she peers down at him. They woulda been out of rubbers if he hadn't fallen asleep like a pussy, and if Beth hadn't let him sleep for like six hours because he looked like he needed it.
He never did tell her that he never managed to get more than four hours at a stretch since they stopped sleeping together, so he figures she's right. He just didn't want to waste time with something as stupid as sleeping.
But, back to the sun, which is giving them enough light now that he saw Beth's face when she was coming, and he knows that sight will be enough inspiration for the three they got left.
She snuggles down into his chest, and he sighs in blissful contentment. Whatever, he's a pussy. A fucking happy pussy and he don't care.
"I wanna ask you something," he says now, and he feels Beth's cheek plump up against his chest. She's smiling, because she knows he's whipped. She's thrilled. She's got him and that's what she's wanted--for a while now. And that's his question. "You 'member, our first night together? You said you'd wanted me to touch you, for a long time. When? When did you want me?"
Really what he wonders is why, but he'll settle for when.
She shrugs. "After we got to the prison. You were just all...you know, brave, and tough, and..." He jostles her a little, and she adds a bit shyly, "Sexy? I guess. I didn't really know how sexy back then, obviously. You just always--like when Zach died, you came to tell me, and you had a reason and all, but lots of times, after you went out on a run, you'd come tell me stuff. You always reported back. To my dad, or Rick, or Carol, you always came and told us, checked on us, asked what we needed the next time you went out."
She presses her face tighter into his body. "You were never gonna go for me, so it's not like I advertised. I kinda thought...maybe you and Carol..."
He puts a hand on the back of her head, hugging her against him. "Eh. It's not like that with us. We're like family. The kind you're born into, you know, not the kind you..." he trails off, his eyes popping open. Yeah, sex definitely makes him a dumb shit.
He shoulda latched on to the thing about how he would have never gone for her, corrected that crazy idea, but no, instead his mouth just ran away from him. Fuck.
Beth is like the softest, warmest, best blanket he's ever slept under, her relaxation is so complete, and since she takes a minute to respond he thinks (hopes) maybe she's close to falling asleep when she murmurs, "Not the kind you...what?" she asks.
Her cheek is plump again.
"Go to sleep, Greene," he commands, though his voice is so soft and tender, it gives him away as much as anything else.
She presses a kiss to his shoulder. "Yes, Mr. Dixon," she says solemnly.
Daryl does not think about what it would be like to call her Mrs. Dixon.
(Really, he doesn't.)