Work Header


Chapter Text

Hello once again. I'm not sure why I keep doing this to myself. lol As I write each fic, I tell myself it'll be the last. Then it never is. Ugh. Anyway, I don't know for sure where this one is going or how long it'll be. Per usual. I'm not much of a planner. And yes, it's very similar to my one shot You'll Never Get Out of King County Alive. Thanks for reading and leave a comment so I know what you all think of it. ;)

Thanks ivyandocean (Lilly) for the Beta. 

He tried not to stare. Really, he did. He was Daryl Dixon. He didn’t care enough to stare. Didn’t give a shit about no one or nothin’. He was tough. Uncaring. Will Dixon’s son. Merle Dixon’s brother. He especially didn’t pay no mind to some girl dancing around in the street acting like a fucking idiot. So what if she had long legs smooth as silk. So what if her dime store dress cut just so on her thighs and if he watched closely enough, when she twirled around he caught a quick glimpse of her white panites. So what if her hair flowed long down her back. So what if her eyes never landed on him in return.

He didn't need her to look back at him. He knew well what those legs felt like under his calloused hands. Knew what that hair, now smooth and straight, looked like matted and tangled. How those eyes, bright and mischievous, could darken in ecstasy. And he knew how those white panties looked like dangling off her ankle as her legs wrapped around his waist, hanging on as he pounded into her.

No, he couldn’t let on that he knew her at all. Because she was her, and he was, well, he was himself. So he sat on the tailgate of his truck, sipping at the lukewarm beer, not watching her.

The townsquare, essentially a large parking lot with a pavilion and a couple of picnic tables underneath, was where the youth of the town gathered on most nights. Until they got too rambunctious and the Sheriff kicked them out.

At twenty five, Daryl was getting too old to hang out here. But he still had plenty of friends there, so he didn’t feel quite the interloper just yet. And by friends, he meant people he regularly got drunk with.

Currently there were a handful of people milling about. Sitting on tailgates, loitering on the picnic tables. Standing around. Nothing much was happening which was the norm for the piss-ant town they lived in. There wasn’t much else to do. They were mostly farm kids, worked as hard as any adult plus went to school. Well some of them anyway. A lot of kids, Daryl included, dropped out at a young age. He really didn’t have a choice. His daddy was a drunk and useless as a lump of coal. Merle did his own thing. Someone had to work a thankless job at the local mechanic’s shop.

One highlight that he hadn’t expected in his doldrum life was Beth. One day she was just there, like an unexpected angel droped straight from heaven. An angel with a devils tail who could do things to his body and mind that no one else ever could.

She and a friend, another blonde, were dancing in the middle of the lot to a thumping country song that blasted out from someone's car speakers. After a week of rain a puddle had formed and they were splashing around with barefeet like kids. It didn’t escape him that Beth’s toenails were painted a bright pink and for some reason beyond his level of understanding, it made him hard.

“If you stare any harder, your eyes are gonna’ pop right outcha head.”

Daryl moved his eyes away from Beth to Shane, a friend he’d had since grade school. He was, in fact, staring at Beth. “What the hell ever. I ain’t staring,” he lied.

“‘S okay, brother. I’m staring too. She a peach, that one,” Shane nodded, tipped back his bottle of beer and drained the rest in one swallow.

Daryl snorted out a humorless laugh. “That's for damn sure.”

He had to play along. Of course he did. He couldn't very well let on he knew Beth in any facet other than some random hot chick dancing in front of them.

Shane seemed pacified with Daryl’s general chauvinistic response and scooted his way back to the cooler that was stocked with more beer leaving Daryl alone to peer at Beth under the bill of his camouflage hat for a few seconds longer. Hopefully a little less apparent this time.

She seemed lost in the music, swaying her hips, moving her arms around. Graceful and fluid. Daryl’s best guess was that she probably had ballet lessons or some sort of formal training. She was the baby of the family. The princess of Greene Farms. She probably had everything her little heart desired up until recently. And that included Daryl, even though she acted as though he didn’t exist. That was the plan after all. He didn’t exist to her, she didn’t exist to him.

While they were around other people anyway.

Because when they were alone, that was a whole different story.

. . .

“Damn, you look all innocent but you just trouble ain’t ya’?” Daryl hissed as Beth shoved him up against the door of his truck. Her hot hand traced down over his pecs, down his washboard stomach, following the trail of buttons down to his belt buckle.

Her knees came into contact with the dirt ground, she peered up to him, mischievous blue eyes shining with a devilish sparkle. “You have no idea,” she whispered. In his jeans, his hardened dick pulsed.

And to think he wasn’t even going to go out tonight. Shane kept on nagging him until he gave in, which didn’t take all the much nagging. He was tired from a long week at work, but also restless and getting drunk sounded like as good idea as any. So they went out the local bar. Nothing more than an old barn the owners had turned into a honky tonk where the beer was watered down and the whisky was cheap.  

That’s where he met Ms. Hotrod and her gaggle of friends. She told him her name, but it was loud inside the bar thanks to the live cover band blasting out an old song. Pretty soon she was buying him shots. How, he wasn’t sure, there was no way she was twenty one. The bartender probably didn’t care if she was of age as long as she had the cash to buy the alcohol. And it wasn’t too long before she was dragging him out into the field that served as a parking lot.

When her little hand clamped around his belt buckle, pulling the leather strap through the loop he jumped back as if she’d bit him.

“Whoa, what the hell you doin’?”

Beth looked up to him again, her eyes round with feigned innocence and she giggled. A pretty musical sound.

“What do you think I’m doing?” She asked, continuing to pull the belt through the buckle, rubbing the bump that had formed behind the zipper of his jeans with her other hand.

“Holy fuck girl,” he ground out between clenched teeth. He wanted to give in to the muted touch of her delicate hand rubbing back and forth through the fabric. Even through his foggy, whiskey drenched mind he knew he had to put a stop to it.

“Wait, hold up,” he finally stepped away from her and out of her reach. “How old are you?”

That giggle again. It did something to his stomach, made it quiver. Must be the alcohol, he surmised. Not her voice.

“I’m 21.” She said, looking him in the eye. The moon, shining bright against the ink black sky, reflected in her navy blue eyes. They were probably brighter in the daytime. Here in the dark, they were almost black.

“The hell you are. How old are you really?” He asked, cautiously taking a step toward her, he pulled her up by a yank of her wrist. No matter how badly he wanted to get blown by a beautiful woman, he didn’t want to go to jail even more. The last thing he needed was some pissed off daddy dragging him down to the Sheriff's office by way of shotgun.

Her lip protruded in a cute pout. “Okay, I ain’t 21. But I am 19. How old are you ?” She asked with mock authority, her hands going back to his dick, drunkenly rubbing him again.

He snorted, “Old enough.” The sensation of her hands as well and her hot lips on his neck, nipping his earlobe, silenced him for a moment more. “But you're drunk, we need to stop.”

One thing Daryl hated knowing  was he was the regret a lot women had the day after a drunk night at the bar. This girl was too young to start that bullshit. And he wasn’t so wasted he didn’t realize this.

Allowing himself to be swept up in her bubblegum mixed with whiskey flavored pink lips for a moment more before lightly grasping her shoulders, he pushed her away.

“You’ll regret this.”

“No I won't,” she squinted up at him.

“It wasn’t a question,” he said. “Why you so hell bent on fucking your life up?”

“How am I fucking up my life?” She asked. Folding her arms over her chest, swaying slightly.

“I dunno. Getting drunk at a bar before y’all is even 21. Hooking up with some random redneck.”

What the hell? Was he actually saying this? He wasn’t sure why he was so concerned. For some reason she seemed better than this.

She opened her mouth, probably to tell him a thing or two, but was interrupted by a burst of noise and laughter. The gaggle. Saved by the bell, or he just lost out on a night of sex, whichever way you wanted to look at it. At least she wouldn’t regret having sex in the parking lot with a man she didn't even know. He’d probably regret not going through with it, though. He already did, as his dick was still painfully hard.

She stepped back just as the the group of women rounded the corner.

“Hey Beth.”

Beth. Her name is Beth .

“Where were you?” The ringleader, a tall brunette with short hair asked.

“I was just going out to the car for a second. Got a headache, was looking for some tylenol,” she lied smoothly, slowly stepping back from Daryl. She didn’t seem quite as drunk as she did only a moment before.

Daryl took out a cigarette from a pack in his breast pocket, lit it. Leaning casually on the truck door she had just practically slammed him up against. Playing it casual, he was far enough away to not appear to be with Beth in an obvious way. Hopefully, anyway. The brunette was not someone he wanted to grapple with.

“Oh, well come on. We’re goin’ to the truck stop. Get some pancakes to sop up the alcohol we drank.”

The gaggle of women walked off toward an SUV parked a little further away. Beth fell into step behind them. And when she looked over her shoulder, he sent her a wink to which she smiled in return. A full fledged, perfectly straight, white toothed smile.

. . .

Daryl took his time opening the bottle of beer Shane handed off. Took a swig, counting a full ten seconds before he returned his eyes back to Beth. She had stopped dancing and was talking with the blonde. Her smile wide and her face expressive. He wondered vaguely what they were talking about. Probably shopping or school or some dumb shit.

She and Daryl didn’t talk much when they were together, but he knew she had been attending the small college about twenty minutes up the highway. She was going to be a teacher. Or was it an engineer? What the hell ever. It didn't really matter now though, because rumor had it, she had to quit. Work at the family’s failing farm. The economy had taken a shit, and everyone, not only the Greene’s, had fallen on hard times.

When he tried to bring the subject up, her eyes turned sad. Doleful. It sent an ache through his chest that he had no idea what to do with. She abruptly changed the subject by straddling his lap and doing that thing with her tongue and his ear that drained his brain of all coherent thought.

He was barely hanging on to what Shane was rattling on about, lost in thought about Beth and her sweet mouth, when a man came up behind her. No one Daryl recognized, he put his arms around her waist. Tall, crunchy looking styled hair. And was he wearing dress pants? Daryl waited, willing her to push this pretty boy’s hands off her hips. But she didn’t.

Daryl felt his shoulders tense. His hand gripping the tailgate when not only did she not push pretty boy away, she leaned into him, looking over her shoulder at him. When her head came back around her line of vision passed by Daryl. Holding it only a beat before moving on. In that brief second he saw something akin to trepidation. Regret.

. . .

The last thing he expected was to ever see Beth again after the night at the bar. Let alone when she showed up at his at his work the very next day. At first he thought he was seeing things. A brief and all too quick flash of blond hair and a flowing dress walking past the bay door of the shop he worked at. Blinking, he realized he hadn’t been seeing things. There she was again, walking past. This time she stopped, leaned against a tree and it was unmistakable. She was staring right at him.

Once they made eye contact, she gave him a quick once over before she turned on her heel and walked away. He’d be an idiot not to follow.

“Hey, Tyreese. I’m takin’ my lunch now.”

Tyreese frowned slightly under his ever present knit hat. Usually Daryl stayed in for lunch. More times than not working through his break. Tyreese nodded and Darl took off through the open bay door.

At first he thought he’d lost her. Looking to the right down Main Street, then left. Then straight where a side road led to the pavilion. Another glimpse. White floating on the breeze. Practically jogging, he reached the deserted pavilion and when he thought he’d lost her again, there was a tug on his wrist, pulling him in between two buildings that bordered the parking lot.

Again she pushed him, this time up against the brick building. “What is with you?” She snapped, surprising Daryl.

A breeze blew through the alleyway, blowing her hair off her face, her cheeks pink with … with what he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t optimistic enough to think it was desire. She appeared pissed off at him, eyes shimmering. He was right, they were much brighter in the light of day.

He didn’t even know her, why would she be pissed off at him? He always did like a challenge, though.

“What’s with me ?” He asked, trying his best to hide the grin. This was an interesting turn of events.  

“I practically threw myself at you last night.” Did throw herself at him, but she wasn’t about to admit that. She felt her face burning in embarrassment as it was already. “And you just,” she faltered for the right words, “Just pushed me away. Surprised you didn't pat me on my head before you sent me on my way.”

“I didn’t send you on your way. Your friends came out looking for you. And now, wouldn't it a’ been hard to explain what you were doin’ with my dick in your mouth?”

Her eyes went huge, he’d bet his next paycheck no one had ever spoke to her like that before.

“You woulda’ liked it,” she countered.

Daryl put up his hands in surrender. “No denying that.”

To that she smiled, her whole face lighting up like a the sunrise after a stormy night. “You’re enjoying this ain’t you?”

“What’s not to enjoy?” He asked. A beautiful woman pissed off, but not really pissed off, at him. He’d spent worst moments in his life.

When the breeze blew again, tossing her hair up and into the air, his hand moving on its own accord, wrapped around an unruly chunk of it. Clutching it at the nape of her neck. Giving a slight yank.

“You was drunk. ‘N I don’t take advantage.” At one time he might have done just that. Take advantage of the situation and the girl. Not now though. Not anymore.

She snorted, an unlady like sound her mother would have disapproved of. And wasn’t that ironic? She was standing in an alleyway with an almost complete stranger talking about his dick. What would her mother have to say about that?  

“You wasn’t taking advantage. If anything I was taking advantage of you. And I wasn’t that drunk.”  

Wasn’t really drunk at all. She just wanted to feel something other than the gloom that enveloped her day in and day out. And the man that she’d been flirting with all night seemed like the type to oblige her. Apparently she’d been wrong. That surprised her when few things in this world did. Which, admittedly, got her curiosity up, bringing her down to where he worked.

It was just a guess on where he worked. His work shirt read King Auto Repair above the right breast pocket. So she decided to go check it out, and there he was looking even better than she remembered. Sleeveless navy work shirt, muscles straining at whatever he was working on under the hood of a car. He wasn’t wearing that camouflage hat he’d been wearing the night before and his hair was shaggy, falling down into his eyes. Her fingers practically itched to run through the dark locks.

It all went as she’d planned. When he looked up from the engine and glanced at her, she stopped, posing herself next the the tree protruding from a small mound of dirt in the sidewalk. He looked straight at her, recognition showing on his face. And when she walked away, he’d actually followed her. Just as she’d hoped.

Brow frowning, curiously she asked, “Why’d you do that? I ain’t never met a guy that wouldn't take it if a girl was giving it away.”

“‘Cause you didn’t want it. Not really anyway.”

That stopped her in her tracks. How was it he, someone she didn’t know at all, read her so perfectly well. She did want it, but not that way. She’d never been promiscuous. Things had just been going downhill at a faster speed than she was able to keep up with. The whiskey loosened her mind a little and he was damn handsome. He was different from all the other guys she’d been with. Different not necessarily in a bad way. So why not? People hooked up with people they didn’t know all the time. She was an adult after all, could make her own choices. No matter what her parents or sister thought.

Even now she felt a pull toward him. That difference showing again.

“Well ain’t you the last decent man.”

He shook his head in the negative. “Ain't even close.”

With that she pounced on him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her height and crushing his lips with her own. Sucking hard at his bottom lip before pushing her tongue into his obliging and waiting mouth.

He had a second to catch her before she wrapped her legs around his waist, holding her with his forearm bracing under her ass. Spinning around he pushed her back into the brick. Light as a feather, he held her there taking control of the kiss. His tongue protruding her mouth, exploring. Angling his head for better access.

The starchiness of the fabric of his uniform rubbing against her thighs, the skirt of her dress falling back and scrunching up around her hips. She took it all in, her sensitive skin feeling every brush of movement. Her lips tingling against his, his tongue sending shivers down her spine as he ran it along her bottom lip.

With one hand still hanging on around his neck, the other hand wasting no time in delving down past his belt buckle again. Somehow, he really didn’t want to take the time to figure it out, she undid the buckle and the button. Before he realized it, she unzipped his fly and had her hand in his pants, searching for the best angle to get to his hardened dick.

He dropped his head, sucking lightly at the skin of her neck, placing wet kisses along her protruding collarbone. The v-neck of her dress gave him easy access to her sternum. Roughly he pulled the strap of her dress and bra aside and quickly descended onto her nipple. Sucking, grazing with his teeth.

Arching her back, the brick of the wall digging into her shoulders, she moaned from deep in her throat. What it was about this man, she wasn’t sure, but it felt like if she didn’t have him, she would regret it the rest of her life. She’d had sex before. Mostly groping clumsily in the backseat of an old car. It being over too soon, leaving her unsatisfied and wanting more. There was a good chance this might end the same way. She had to find out.  

Abruptly Daryl pulled back, eyed her suspiciously. “What are you all ‘bout, girl?”

“Just lookin’ for a few minutes of mind-numbing sex,” she answered. Chest rising and falling with lost breath. “You game?”

“Hell, yeah,” he ground out.

Still, he looked at her with those steel blue eyes. Waiting for the bottom to fall out, waiting for her to back out. He’d had his fair share of quickies, one night stands. Up against the wall in the middle of the day was a new one for him though.

“I ain’t drunk this time,” she smiled coyly.

This was very true.

“Well, in that case.” He chuckled before attacking her mouth once again.

. . .

Girl came prepared, had a condom right there in her purse. Was she so cock-sure he was going to fall in line and give her what she wanted now that she was sober?

She’d be correct if that was indeed what she’d been thinking.

When he woke up that morning, he hadn’t expected to have sex in the alleyway between the town's only grocery store and the pharmacy. But that's exactly what had happened. He’d never been so happy to work a saturday in all his life.

. . .

When she walked into the bar the night before with the gaggle of women, he scoffed, thinking “What the holy hell is this?” Once the group spread out a bit, he zeroed in on Beth. There was something about her he couldn’t quite pinpoint. She looked familiar in a small town, everyone knows everyone kind of way. Blonde hair, bubbling smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was a story there. He could tell there was more to her than a pretty face.

He’d taken all that in in about two seconds before rolling his eyes and turning back toward the bar. She wasn’t for him, that was sure enough. The bartender at the bar, the one that had a few miles on her and had creases at the corner of her eyes, she was more his speed. Huge boobs pushed up within an inch of their life. Painted on bright red smile. Been around the block a time or two. Yep, she was more his type and they’d proved compatible in bed a few times. This fresh off the farm, blonde hair, blue eyed girl wasn’t even an option. Didn’t even consider it.

He thought all this while brooding over his beer, ignoring the too loud band and people. He’d almost forgotten about her. Almost, when she’d scooted up the bar and knocked his elbow. She apologized, but he knew, just as she knew, it was done on purpose.

. . .

Showing up the next day at his work was definitely unexpected. About as unexpected as the sex. He held her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist, her underwear hanging off her ankle. His calling her trouble the night before had been spot on. She was hot and wet and ready for him.

And tight. So friggin’ tight. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think this was her first time. Judging from the look on her face as he pounded into her and exited completely before plunging back in, she was enjoying it just as much as he was. She was beautiful and he didn’t just think that because of their current predicament. She really was. Her body was lean, her ass, as he braced her with the cup of his hand, curved around perfectly.

He knew he needed to slow it down before he embarrassed himself. Yes, this was technically a quickie, still he didn’t want it to be too quick. At the angle he couldn’t reach around to get her off, so he only hoped this was enough for her.

He suspected it was enough.

Her breath was coming quicker and quicker. The moans that came from deep within her throat were getting louder. Her body tightened with every thrust and once he felt her clench around his dick, he let himself go.

Then, she did the strangest thing. After straightening her painties of course, she leaned up on her toes and brushed a chaste kiss along his cheek, and slid a folded piece of paper into his pocket. And then she sashayed away like nothing happened.

Waiting until she disappeared around the corner, he fished the paper out of his pocket. Her number was scrawled out in pretty bubble handwriting.

He knew before he replaced the paper back in his pocket, he was going to see her again.