"Shit girl, c'mon, like that, just like that."
Beth grins as she squeezes Daryl's wrists tighter, sitting up as straight as she can while she alternates between grinding her hips and working them.
Beneath her Daryl's shaking, skin sweaty and burning hot, all bare for her, his neck straining back and his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.
Above him she grins, grinding down so her clit is massaged, his cock pressing so deep her eyes are watering from the sweet torture.
Just one last flutter of her walls and his fingers are tensing, flexing to grab something but he can't because she's right on top of him, wrists caught between her two hands and her ass bouncing on his lap.
When he cums, it's in a condom, but it's nether the less inside her, making her tummy flutter and then his lips part erotically, his face tortured when he says, "Beth, shit, I fuckin' love you."
Jesus fucking Christ, she's a vision. Skin full of the honey glow emitted from the candles, her blonde hair a tumble of wild waves and curls from a downpour she was caught in before he hauled her inside to fuck her silly, even though somehow the tables were turned until she was riding him.
Fuck if he's complaining. He's always topped her. Bent her over or screwed her into the mattress, had her on all fours and even fucked her with her legs pressed up around her head, which is his favourite position because fucking her like that is unreal.
But tonight, she rides him, she controls him; she takes what she wants and decides when he gets his. It's not something Daryl expected to like because it's control and he doesn't sit well with anyone having it over him.
Beth though, she's a different story. He'd give her his heart still dripping in his proffered hand if he could, if she looked at him just right.
Regardless, the position is different and too damn much. There's been times where they've fucked and she's started crying after, sobbed in his arms after three or four orgasms.
No matter how many times it happens, he still gets scared shitless that he's done something wrong, that he's hurt her or gone too far, but Beth always promises that she's just overwhelmed, that it was so good and that's all she can really say.
Daryl's never really got it, until now. He thought it was just a female thing, too much stimulation or some shit. Damn if this position doesn't want to make him fucking cry though.
From her heavenly pussy massaging his dick to her gorgeous fucking body over him, her naughty little smirk and her ass as it bounces.
But most of all it's the fucking control. The helplessness, the mercy he's at under her body. She could do anything to him and she does.
Pins his wrists and bites his chest, licks his throat and his nipples, bends even further to brush her lips over his stomach until he's twitching.
Not that he doesn't like it because Jesus he does. The problem might be that he likes it too much, that giving up control is something he's wanted to do for a very long time.
Now he's doing that and shit, he's not an idiot, he knows what it means, but in the midst of the pleasure his girl gives him, there's a burning panic underneath his skin, like a dancing fire trying to make him break her hold, grab her hips and pound her.
Take control, show her who's boss; be dominate, be the figure he believes he's meant to be as a man. But he doesn't because it's too good and just for once in his damn life, why can't someone take care of him? He’s a mess and he feels sliced open and raw; an open book for Beth's intelligent eyes.
So he just says it.
"Beth, shit, I fuckin' love you."
He's cumming when it spills out of his mouth, his body so tense with the hardest fucking orgasm he's ever had and he feels like his soul has been torn out of his body through his spine with Beth's fucking fingernails.
It's unreal, how hard he cums and he isn't no pansy ass fag but shit if he doesn't have to blink rapid fire to stop tears.
Daryl expects her to say it back, even though he doesn't want to expect it because he doesn't want to deal with the rejection if she don’t, but she does say it back.
Except it doesn't sit right with him, doesn't feel right because she moans, "I love you too," and then reaches down to rub furiously at her clit and he's so distracted by the way she answered he doesn't even enjoy her cunt squeezing him when she cums.
When she collapses over Daryl, he doesn't move and then when he reaches his hands up to hold her, she rolls away onto her side, tucking her head under his chin.
He holds her but he's frowning where she can't see, trying not to feel like some sensitive little girl, but he feels fucking weird, especially over how she said, 'I love you' back.
It's the first time they've ever said it to each other, so shouldn't Beth be making a big deal over the fact that he said it when he was cumming?
Don't girls get all weird over that? Shouldn't there have been some kind of moment where she at least stopped to look at him and truly appreciate what he goddamn said?
Not just throw it back at him and then continue on with her orgasm. Did she even mean it? Did she used to throw it around, before?
Teenage girls said that shit all the time. Did she say it to Jimmy? Was she saying it to some other guy now? Someone in the prison younger than him; better looking?
Zach was around her a lot and she always laughed at his shitty jokes and bad impressions. Was it that little fucker?
When she fell asleep, Daryl stroked her face with a shaking hand and he'd never admit it, not to a fucking soul, but he was ready to pray to whatever God or Gods or deity or shitty thing was around anymore, if they ever was, for Beth Greene to have meant it when she said, 'I love you.'
Daryl isn't talking to her.
At least, she's pretty sure he's not talking to her because he hasn't come near her once all day. He's never like that. Sure, no one knows that they're together, certainly don't know they're fucking, but he never ignores her.
He always finds some way to interact with her, sometimes even drags her around a wall for a quick kiss and a stroke to her cheek before he goes.
It's the biggest reason why Beth loves him. No matter what he's doing, no matter where he's been, who they've lost, how close they came to losing each other, he always takes two minutes out of the day to make eye contact with her and give her a big, beautiful smile.
She's pretty sure no one in existence has ever seen that smile and it does the craziest of things to her. Sometimes he even brings back little presents for her.
Things she needs but doesn't think to ask for. Hairbrushes and new shorts when the days are long and hot, long sweaters when the nights are cold.
Not that she really needs them, since the best present he ever brings her is himself. His hot skin and his smile that lights her up from the inside out.
Beth's breath catches at the thought of his expression last night, his body underneath her. The rapture on his face, his watering eyes even though he blinked so often nothing spilt forth.
God, she knows that feeling. The overwhelming love and desire and pleasure, like her body is being split open and offered to the person she loves so much it hurts.
She made Daryl Dixon feel like that and there was never a better time for them to drop the L bomb, in her opinion. It was perfect.
She fell asleep content and for just a few blissful hours: safe. So why the hell is he ignoring her today? She was so sure last night was everything she ever wanted and never knew she needed.
Beth thought Daryl felt the same way, but all he's done is prove that's not the case and now she can't stop feeling sick with humiliation.
Did he just say it because he was cumming? Heat of the moment? But it was so real.
The look on his face was so damn real and if it isn't, if he said it just for something to say, that will be so fucking unfair because his face shouldn't have lied so well.
Later on, she's wound herself up to boiling point and when he doesn't come to her cell like he does every night, she loses her shit.
She storms over to his cell, feet nearly catching in the sweatpants she wore to bed since it's a cold night and Daryl didn't come and join her in bed, the jerk.
She's so angry but worst of all she's scared because she doesn't want him to say he didn't mean it.
Doesn't want to hear him say that he said it in the moment and now he's embarrassed or worried she meant it when she said it back.
Beth's heart is racing when she yanks his curtain aside and she feels to shout but she still whispers. "The fuck is goin' on, Daryl?"
He looks up from where he's sat on the lower bunk. "Why you still up? S'late."
Beth locks her knees because if she steps any closer she's gonna strangle him. "That's all you gotta say? No excuses for why you been avoidin' me all damn day?"
He snorts. "Ain't my fault you said, 'I love you' outta some kinda fuckin' pity."
"You heard," Daryl mutters and then he gives her a sharp look when she starts laughing.
"That's what this is all about? You think I didn't mean it? How could you think that?" She whispers as she kneels down in front of him.
He's eye level with her on her knees and they're hard, cut off, like he's protecting himself. "Ain't it?"
"Of course not," she laughs softly, gripping his knees. "I meant it. Didn't you?"
He stares at her, his eyes sweeping her whole face. "Y'know I did, girl. You fuckin' saw me."
Beth nods with a smile. "Why'd you think I didn't mean it?"
Daryl shrugs uncomfortably. "Didn't seem like a big deal to you. Like you hear it all the time."
"I don't hear it, Daryl, I see it. When you smile at me; when you bring me things I need on runs. I feel it, when you look at me underneath you, fuckin' me. I hear it when you ask if I'm okay, what I did when you was out huntin' or on a run. I already knew. I knew before you."
He laughs but it's perplexed, confused almost and Beth laughs too because he's so damn cute sometimes. "Lemme show you," she whispers.
He frowns, until she begins to undo his belt buckle and then he smiles, that same dazzling smile no one else ever sees.