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Digging in

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Snow isn't something Daryl ever thought he'd see again, let alone have to worry about. Winters are usually pretty mild in Georgia, but not this one. No, this one’s gone and brought enough snow to make going out on runs too much of a risk according to the council. Daryl was voted down five to one and that places him firmly inside the prison gates for the time being.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Hershel had been saying for a while that they’d need to dig in for the winter, farmer’s intuition told him it was going to be a particularly harsh one. So, when the snow started to fall, and didn’t stop, the cupboards were full. The prison was prepared. 

The prison might have been, but Daryl Dixon was not. After a day and a half, he's already sick of the snow and sick of digging in. 

He spends the afternoon pacing the yard looking longingly through the fence, pining for the woods like a trapped animal. He starts to feel like an actual prisoner, counting down the days until he’s served his sentence and they let him out. 

But it isn’t long until he’s freezing his balls off, and stubborn as he is, he’s eventually lured inside by Carol and a bowl of hot stew. 

The others are huddled around tables playing cards, or inside their cells wrapped in blankets reading by candlelight. Getting all cozy and shit. Paper garlands wound around the prison bars to make the place look festive. 

Fuck that. 

Daryl’s on his feet and out of there before the stew hits his stomach and makes a circuit of the cell blocks looking for something to keep him busy before he starts bouncing off the walls. 

He chain smoked all his cigarettes yesterday which doesn't fucking help. Usually he’s better at rationing them out, but the prospect of being locked up indefinitely made him anxious. Anxious enough to bite his nails down to the quick before inhaling all his cigarettes. He decides to delve deeper into the prison in the vague hope of finding more. Hope is a strong word, but it gives him a purpose at least.

He’s made it to Cell Block E, which isn’t currently occupied, when he hears something that turns his head. Standing still, he tunes in to the sound of shuffling. His ears prick up at what he thinks is a moan. Maybe they missed a walker when they cleared this block out.

Daryl never thought he'd be so pleased at the possibility of finding a walker in the prison, but there's an added bounce in his step as he tracks the sound to the stairwell. 

Another muffled moan. Daryl pulls his knife out of its sheath as he rounds the corner.

What he finds stops him in his tracks, but it's no walker.

He’s frozen, staring straight ahead as another soft moan disturbs the silence, and his darting eyes take in the source of the noise.

He almost wishes it was a walker because at least then he’d know what to do. Instead, panic rolls down his spine and roots him to the spot. In front of him is Beth Greene, back braced against the wall and hand between her legs. Masturbating. 

Another little sound escapes from behind the hand clasped across her mouth as the other jerks inside the front of her jeans. His eyes fall to her open zipper, panties shaking under the frantic movement of her hand. 

He swallows hard, throat suddenly bone dry, and his eyes dart up to her face. Her eyes are squeezed shut - small mercies - and her cheeks are flushed a dusky pink.

Suddenly, the hand covering her mouth balls into a fist and her lips part to bite down on her knuckle. 

Daryl feels his own cheeks burn as he watches the skin turn white around her teeth, hears a high pitched whine slip out from behind them.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be watching this. He knows he should leave. That it’s wrong to stay here staring like some kind of Peeping Tom. That he is for sure going to hell if he wasn’t already. Only he can’t seem to control his legs. He can’t even control his breathing. 

Beth groans against her fist and the hand on the hilt of his blade tightens. The knife slips from his suddenly clammy palm and falls to the flood with a sharp thud.


Beth’s eyelids snap open and she’s staring back at him, huge doe eyes burning blue.

Shit shit shit.

“Daryl?” She croaks, confusion twisting into abject horror as he comes into focus.

He does move then, turning and stumbling back the way he came. She’s pushing away from the wall, hands fallen to her sides. He thinks she says his name again, but he can’t hear anything over the sound of his heartbeat thundering in his ears. 

He’s about to turn, get the fuck out of there, when suddenly she’s lurching forward, slipping on the melted snow he tracked in on his boots. 

She skids, and his arms fly out to catch her. 

When she grabs his arm, Daryl feels sticky fingers curl against his skin and nearly busts a nut there and then. 

“Daryl, oh my god ,” Beth gasps, staring back at him.

She looks on the verge of a panic attack the way her pulse is rabbiting on the side of her pale, slim neck. 

“It's alright. Hey, it's okay really,” He chokes out as he watches white swallow blue in the middle of her flushed face. 

“There's just no privacy in the cell block, oh my god, I just - I'm really tense - I just thought -” She stammers, pitch of her voice ascending as her chest saws in huge gulps of air and she struggles to catch her breath. 

He feels her growing panic jittering in his own chest and when he starts moving his hands up and down her arms on instinct to calm her down she leans in and buries her face in his chest. 

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” He murmurs.

Swallowing down his own panic, he keeps stroking her back until her breathing evens out, until he’s fairly confident she isn’t going to have a full blown panic attack. And for a little while after that too, for good measure. Just to make sure she’s alright, he tells himself as he fills his lungs with the sweet smell of her freshly washed hair on a deep inhale.

Air blows in slow streams across his throat and Daryl starts to feel a different kind of tension. As his hands slow along with her breathing he realizes how much he’s touching her, a lot more than he ought to be, big palms spreading like wings across her shoulder blades. Shit. 

He's still holding her against his chest too, much tighter than he needs to be, if he needs to be at all. She turns her head and releases a little moan like the ones that drew him here, and when it vibrates soft and warm against his skin suddenly he's halfway hard. Wait, what? The heat of her breath feels like it's scalding him through his clothes somehow. 

She sighs, rocks her hips against him, and makes another soft moan, this one laced with need and that noise goes straight to his cock. His dick twitches in his jeans and a bolt of fear runs through him at the effect those little noises are having on his body - at the effect she's having on his body.

He shifts and pushes her away. Uses a little more force than is strictly necessary, but he needs to put some distance between them right fucking now before he loses control over anything else. 

“Uh, you want me to keep watch?” He asks as she gives him a startled look. 

“So you can, uh, finish?”  He can feel his blush deepening at the sight of her yawning pupils. 


“No,” She says, voice coming out thick enough to make his skin tingle.  

He bites his lip so hard his teeth nearly cut through it because he knows, hell he already knows what she's thinking. He's observant as fuck and he can feel the change in her breathing against his skin. He can see the way her pupils are dilating back at him like the night sky. Jesus Christ, he can fucking smell her, they’re so close and her jeans are still hanging open. Daryl doesn’t have a whole lot of experience with women, but he knows what a wet cunt smells like, had to put up with his older brother Merle shoving his fingers under his nose every time he fingered a girl in a bar enough to recognise it. He knows what it means too. It means he’s in deep, deep trouble.   

He might be Mr Popular around here with all the deer he brings back, but if he's found with his hands on Hershel Greene's teenage daughter he's likely to find himself on the other side of that fence, snow or no snow. Thinks he'd rather take his chances with the frostbitten walkers than at the end of Maggie's shotgun, which is exactly where he'll be if he puts a hand on her baby sister. 

So, it would be really fucking stupid of him to put a hand on her. Really fucking stupid. 

He swallows. His throat is so dry that it hurts. 


She just keeps looking up at him, eyes like saucers.  

Yeah, he's probably going to do something stupid alright. 

“What you want then?” He asks, because fuck he's gonna make her say it alright, if he’s gonna lose his balls he’s gonna make her say it outright. 

Daryl doesn't recognise the voice that crawls out of his throat, so hoarse and raw it makes his ears burn as red as her face glowing back at him.

“I want you to do it,” She whispers, and he's almost impressed, wasn’t sure if she'd have the nerve to say it, but Beth is full of surprises today.

“Do what?” He murmurs, tongue coming out to wet his lips. He knows, of course he fucking knows what, but now he wants to hear her say it.

This time she hardly hesitates.

“Want you to touch me,” She says, “Please, Daryl.”

God fucking damn it.

It's the please that kills him.

How's he supposed to say no to that?

So, he doesn't. He doesn't say anything. He presses her against the wall with his hand on her shoulder, and shoves the other down the front of her jeans. The front is already undone; button popped, zipper drawn. No belt, must have left it in her cell when she came here to do this. Fuck, if that doesn't give him a little push to give her what she wants, what she came here for.

His thick fingers card through the curls covering her mound - Christ , even her pubes feel soft under his calloused fingers - trails them down to her lips, already so hot and slick his breath stutters. He knew she was wet, nose so full of her scent he can practically taste her pussy in his mouth, but the reality, all warm and pooling against his fingers, is something else. Something better than he could have imagined. 

Her breath hitches and a little puff of air hits his throat, her fingers curling around his bicep, tacky with the same slick that coats his fingertips as he nudges them between her lips.

“Anyone ever do this for you?” He asks against her temple.

“Why?” There's a hint of petulance in her tone that should piss him off. It should, but it doesn't, it makes him want to shove his fingers deeper inside her, but he doesn't do that either.

“‘Cause I don't wanna hurt ya,” He snaps, trailing his fingers back to stroke her clit, softly, because he already knows the answer and he really doesn't want to hurt her.

Goddamn brat, he thinks, but he knows she's anything but. She’s always doing everything for everyone else, never thinks about herself, her own needs. 

Someone needs to, might as well be him. 

“You won't. Daryl, God, please, jus’ do somethin’,” She whines as he circles her clit slowly.

That ought to piss him off too, but it doesn’t. Gets his blood up in other ways. 

He buries a groan in the cradle of her shoulder. Takes everything in him not to nail her to the goddamn wall.

“Just give me a minute, Jesus,” He lets out a shaky breath, trying to get a hold of himself. He isn't exactly an expert at this to begin with, but he reckons he can get her there. Only he’s in serious danger of going off himself before he can start.

She exhales slowly against his throat, and her pussy lips jump against his fingers, dragging his attention from the ache between his legs to the ache between hers. If he’s going to do this then he needs to just fucking do it. And if he’s going to hell, might as well make it count. 

He starts kneading her clit against the heel of his hand, smoothing out those twitches into trembles, and smearing her slick against his palm until his whole hand is covered in it. He feels the wetness of her mouth against his throat as another little puff of air escapes on a soft moan that makes his dick throb. Christ almighty.  

With a tight inhale he shifts his hips away from hers, girl is already skittish as a colt without knowing that's there.

“That feel good?” He murmurs, rolling his palm so she makes that sound again. Thinks he might be getting as much from the sounds she makes as she is from his hand.

Her fingers tighten against his arms, nails scraping across his skin through his shirt and making it sing. She can rip his arms to ribbons if it gets her there, she deserves to feel good, whatever the cost. He doesn't mind it though, finds himself choking on a moan of his own. 

Yes, ” She gasps, “Please, Daryl. Please.

He doesn't know exactly what it is she's asking him for, isn't sure she does either, but hearing her say please with such urgency causes his cock to swell dangerously against his zipper. 

Better get on with it before he loses all ability to function.

He parts her pussy lips with his fingers, and strokes a fingertip against her entrance.

Sucking in a breath, Beth rocks her hips forward causing him to catch on her clutching hole. When his finger meets the resistance of her inner walls they both gasp.

Fuck , you're tight,” He breathes, bringing a boot between hers and kicking them further apart, “C'mon, girl. You want this, gotta let me in.”

Leaning back against the wall, she spreads her thighs and his finger slots inside down to the knuckle.

Her breath catches, and he panics for a second that he's gone and hurt her after all - stupid fuck - until she groans low in her throat and her walls pulse around him. 

He drags his finger out of her, slow enough to feel every inch of her soft walls, before he plunges it back inside.

She gasps and his fingers twitch at the sound, curling inside her and she likes that from the soft "oh" she makes, so he does it again.

He focuses on pulling those sweet sounds from her, each one rolling down his spine and filling his cock with blood until it's threatening to break his zipper.

Daryl can't remember the last time he was hard, and now his dick is jumping with each ragged little breath that streams across his throat. 

He peels the hand that isn't buried in Beth's tight little cunt from where it's braced against the wall and tugs at his belt. Leaning his forehead against the cool concrete, he shoves his hand down the front of his pants and squeezes hard, just to stop himself going off like a rocket, but he can't help the groan of relief that spills from deep in his throat.

Beth's gaze flies up to slap him on the side of the face and he freezes.

"It’s ok. Touch yourself," she whispers.

"C'mon, Daryl. I want you to," she insists.

He thinks his brain short circuits at the needy hint of desperation in her voice.

She wants him to?

"The fuck?" He chokes out, head snapping to the side to catch her eyes, check he isn't hearing things.

"Only if you want to," She says breathlessly, "Turns me on, to think that you like doin' this."

Like it? Doesn't think there's anything that feels as good as being surrounded by her tight wet heat and the smell of her sweet cunt as she keens in his ear like a cat. 

Only thing better would be to get his mouth on her, find out what she tastes like. He'd drop to his knees right now if her cunt wasn't rippling against his fingers in a way that prevented him doing anything at all, except trying to make her do it again.

"More'n like it, girl," He murmurs. 

So, with one hand still knuckle deep inside her he shoves his other hand down the front of his jeans and fists his cock. 

Beth loops her arm around his neck to stop from sliding down the wall, sending her breath in hot streams across his collar bones. 

Daryl doesn't really know what he's supposed to be doing, but he pays attention. He's no pussy expert by a long shot, but he can pay attention to her. So that's what he does. He pays attention to the way her breath hitches when he kneads her clit with just the right amount of pressure. He pays attention to when he twists his fingers and her walls tremble, and he takes care to keep doing those things, just the way she seems to like him doing them, just the way that makes her pussy flutter against his fingers and her breath stutter across his skin. 

He keeps at it until her arms are tightening around his neck and her hips are shuddering as she cants them towards him. 

"Yes, yes, " She chants as something seems to take over and her hips start to jerk wildly.

" Beth ," He moans helplessly as she starts to fuck herself on his fingers like they're his cock, her hot wet pussy making a lurid sucking sound as she squeezes his knuckles tight enough to make him think he's lucky they're not or she'd snap the damn thing off.

He feels a needling of anxiety as he jerks himself roughly to the same rhythm as her hips. It was one thing when this was something for her, to help her out, when his dick wasn't involved. But as pre-cum starts to leak against his palm, helping his cock slide a little smoother in his grip, this definitely isn't just for her anymore, if it ever was. 

The closer he gets to his release, the tighter the knot in his stomach winds and the harder he kneads his palm against her swollen clit because he's not going to come before she does - fuck that shit - he’ll hold out even if it kills him, and it just might. 

The little whine that spills from her lips is a welcome distraction, and when he feels her teeth drag across his skin all those anxious thoughts turn to white noise.

All he knows is the warning pulse that runs across her inner walls and the shallow puffs of air that punctuate each roll of her hips.

His hand stills inside her as her hips shudder to a stop, his fist constricting around his cock just as her pussy clamps down hard around his fingers.  

When she starts to moan, Daryl thinks he blacks out. 

The sound of her release is soft and sweet,  like a song, of course it is, and just like a siren calling ships to wreck, she summons his release. He obeys her, emptying himself in his palm with a grunt.

She's still trembling when he drags his fingers out of her and braces his hand against the wall beside her head, trying not to crush her against it as he sways forward, knees threatening to buckle.

They stay like that for a few minutes, catching their breath as the choppy sound of air sawing in and out of their lungs bounces around the stairwell.

Beth's head falls back against the wall, her eyes closed, her face slack, pretty mouth parted around her shallow breaths.

His eyes drift to stare at his glistening fingers. His tongue slides out to wet his bottom lip and push the drool back in his mouth. He wonders if she'd taste as sweet as she looks, her come dripping down the back of his hand like juice from a ripe peach.

He feels her eyes hot on the side of his face and drags his gaze sideways. The eyes that meet his are like two coals; dark and smouldering with enough heat to set him aflame

“Thanks, Daryl,” She says, her voice so low and throaty his breath flutters. 

He snorts, “I should be thankin' you.”

“Can if you want,” She says, a smile tugging at her lips.

That should piss him off it too, but it doesn't, it really doesn't.

Daryl rolls his lips together and her eyes follow the movement.

“There somethin’ you want?” He murmurs.

Whatever it is he'll go out and get it for her at first light. Fuck the council and fuck the snow. 

Beth nods. She seems shy all of a sudden, eyelashes batting her flushed cheeks. 

“Spit it out,” He grunts, more urgent to know than irritated, “What you want, girl?”

“A kiss.”

His heart jumps. What? 

She's looking up at him with those big Bambi eyes, but somehow he's the one who feels like a deer caught in the headlights. 

The confusion must be etched on his face.

“You know, your lips on my lips,” Her mouth pulls to the side, eyes teasing him. 

“Know what a kiss is,” He snaps. 

He just doesn't know why she wants one.

“That's what I want,” She says quietly, but more firmly this time, more sure.

He rolls his lips together again, eyes dropping to her pink mouth, frowns at it like it confounds him. Because it does. He said he knows what kissing is, but that's really just in theory. 

In practise, he thinks it scares him more than when she asked him to touch her. At least he understood what was in that for her. But this? He has no fucking idea why she'd want a kiss from him , of all people. This girl has the prison lining up around the block to kiss her. Can't walk three feet without turning heads. 

He's been staring, frowning, for a little too long now because she bites her bottom lip in a way that makes his spent cock twitch.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to," She says quietly, "I jus' thought-"

He cuts her off by bringing his hand up to cup her cheek, covering half her face with his palm, fingers still tacky with her come curling around her jaw.

"Didn't say I didn't want to," He murmurs, tilting her face up towards his.

Her smile grows a little wider at that.

Because of course he does. Of course he fucking does. 

He feels her swallow convulsively under his fingers, and his throat aches as he does the same, mouth still bone dry. 

Then he's leaning forward and watching her eyes flare for a split second before he covers her mouth with his. 

Her lips are soft and warm, making his tingle on contact, but when she parts them beneath his, her mouth is just as hot and wet as her pussy. 

He whimpers like he's been scalded and she opens her mouth wider to swallow the sound before he pulls away, cheeks burning.

Beth's kissed pink lips hang open but before she can say anything Daryl gets there first.

"Don't you dare fuckin' thank me for that," He growls.

Her mouth pulls into a wide smile and when she laughs it's soft like her singing voice. Reminds him of the moans she makes when she comes. Then she's sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, eyes sparkling up at him, all bright and teasing in a way that makes him want to kiss her again.

"'Kay, I wont," She concedes.

Daryl huffs. Thank fuck for that.

" - not this time, but -"

This time?

He cuts her off with a frown, but it's drawn of confusion, not anger. Her pretty pink lips twist into a coy smile, batting her lashes up at him, sweet as fucking honey, confident he's gonna give her whatever the fuck she wants because she thinks she's got him wrapped around her little finger. 

Goddamn brat.

She's right, of course. 

His hands snake around to the small of her back and her eyes flare when he yanks her forward and covers her mouth with his a second time.  He kisses the grin that's pulling her lips apart, licks her teeth as he coaxes her mouth open with his tongue. She buries her hands in his hair as he fists the fabric at her back, releases another one of those soft moans that make Daryl reconsider his position on being stuck inside the prison. 

He's pretty sure that when Hershel said they'd need to dig in for the winter and make the best of it, this wasn't what he had in mind. 

He's almost certain the old man would beat him upside the head with his prosthetic if he had even an inkling of what occurred in this stairwell concerning his youngest daughter.

But when Beth licks her tongue into his mouth, Daryl decides he's willing to give digging in a try.