As she glances in the side mirror, she sees Daryl's face contorted in sweet torture. His thrusts are brutal, each one as powerful as the last as they pound her hips into the hard metal frame of his bike. Beth worries he's going to draw walkers as he gets louder, grunting like an animal as he pistons in and out of her.
She can feel the metal of his belt hitting her ass with each snap of his hips, his biceps bulging hard where they frame her on either side, boxing her in. His hot breath pants against the back of her neck, the aroma of cigarettes and engine oil filling her nostrils. Her pussy flutters deliriously around his thick cock as her impending orgasm pinballs around her body, teetering on the edge with each savage plunge.
His lips are moving against her ear, his voice a low rumble that vibrates all the way down her trembling body to her aching clit.
"Girl, I'm gonna make you cum so hard you see stars."
Beth's eyes fly open. She stares blankly at the metal wire of the cot above her as her heart jackhammers in her chest. Her pussy twitches beneath her ruined panties, clenching at the hollow emptiness between her thighs, juices dripping down to soak her ass and sheets.
"Fuck," she whispers, her breath whooshing out of her.
It's only when she lies down on her cot mid-morning to write in her journal that Beth remembers what she dreamt about last night. The image of herself bent over Daryl's motorcycle as he pounds into her from behind flashes through her mind so suddenly and so vividly that she actually lets out a startled gasp into her empty cell.
Where on earth did that come from? She's never thought about Daryl like that before. It's fair to say she's never thought about anyone like that before. Of course she noticed when he'd driven up to her daddy's farm on his motorcycle that Daryl was attractive, in a rough kind of way. Not like any of the boys she dated. He wasn’t a boy at all. He was the kind of guy her mother had warned her about. She couldn't help but notice his body, it was impossible to miss those arms in his sleeveless shirts and vest. But she'd seen his muscles as something functional, like his crossbow, not something to be lusted over. There hadn’t been a lot of time to think about anything except how to stay alive.
Besides he’s just so much older than her. She doesn’t even know by how much. He must be what, twice her age at least? Judging by his salt and pepper scruff, maybe more. Back at the farm he was Mr. Dixon. He probably sees her as just a kid, like Carl. That thought suddenly makes her irrationally upset and she has to push down the urge to cry. She huffs in frustration. Why should she care if he views her as just a kid? Everyone else does. But she does care, for some bizarre reason. She wants him to see her as a woman. She doesn't know why but it matters to her, it matters more than she likes to admit.
Her thoughts are interrupted by the same low rumbling voice from her dream and just like in her dream it sends a shiver running down to her pussy which trembles in response.
Beth drags her eyes up to the doorway of her cell and the looming figure of Daryl Dixon standing there. He’s looking at her expectantly, and it’s only then that she realises he must have asked her a question. He must have asked her a question and he’s waiting for a response but all she can do is stare back at him, her eyes impossibly wide as she feels a violent blush flood down from her hairline to her chest. Her cheeks feel hot and despite the dim half-light of her cell he must notice because he’s narrowing his eyes at her and his face is twisting into a frown.
She knows that she needs to find words; the silence is stretching to the point of awkwardness now. Her mouth opens but no words come out, instead she just sucks in a shaky breath.
Daryl clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
“I said do you an’ Lil Asskicker need anythin’?” he says, clearly repeating himself, still staring at her with narrowed eyes. He looks confused, maybe concerned even, but not irritated which is what she would have expected. That sends a pang of guilt down to her already churning stomach.
Her mouth opens again, she needs to find words, any words will do at this point, but still: nothing. No words come out. She just stares at him like a deer caught in the headlights, her face growing hotter and redder by the second. Her brow is starting to feel clammy and if her stomach turns over once more the only thing coming out of her mouth anytime soon is going to be vomit.
Daryl takes a step forward, his expression softening.
A loud cry breaks the silence.
Beth scrambles from her cot, inhaling so deeply her chest aches. She has never been happier to hear the sound of a baby crying. She dodges past Daryl and hurtles in the direction of Judith’s crib, feeling his curious narrowed eyes following her every step. Picking up Judith, she heads in the opposite direction, away from Daryl, and she doesn't look back.
Beth is relieved when she sees Daryl go out and thanks God when she overhears he's gonna be gone all day hunting. She doesn’t think she can handle the anxiety of possibly seeing him for the entire day, and she knows she can’t handle actually seeing him again. As if he's the sun, she doesn't think it's a good idea to look directly at him, but she's not sure she has the self-control to tear her eyes away.
She can’t stop replaying the morning’s encounter over and over in her head and each time she feels worse. Not only was her behaviour cripplingly embarrassing, blushing and gawping like an idiot, but it was rude. Her parents raised her better than to ignore someone when they spoke or to walk off without a word. Daryl must think she’s a complete brat by now, if he’s given her any thought at all.
It’s not until Beth's strolling into the kitchen to make Judith’s evening bottle that the tachycardia strikes again. She hadn't seen him come back. So Beth isn't prepared for the sight in front of her as she walks in to find Daryl busy cutting and skinning the catch from his hunt. Her eyes are immediately drawn to his flexing biceps as he tugs the skin away from the leg of the hefty deer strewn across the kitchen side.
On any other day Beth would have teased Daryl about getting blood all over the kitchen floor again instead of using the sink like Carol has asked him to countless times. Instead her pupils are yawning as she stands hypnotised by the straining muscles of his impossible arms, the same muscles that caged her against the seat of his motorcycle in her dream. Her breath catches in her throat at the familiar way his mouth tightens in effort.
She feels her face flush when he glances up at her from the corner of his eye. He doesn't move, doesn't turn his head. Only the way his hands slow in their movements give any indication he's noticed her at all.
On any other day Beth would probably have bounced over to coo at the size of the deer Daryl’s brought back and marvel at how well they're all going to eat tomorrow because of it. On any other day she’d thank him for all the trouble he’d gone to.
Only she's starting to feel dizzy just being in the same room as him, if she gets any closer she thinks she might pass out and the ache in her pussy has returned with a vengeance.
Without saying anything at all, she darts straight to where Judith's formula is kept and buries her face in the cupboard. She begs her hands to stop shaking as she pulls the tin down, closing her eyes and taking a calming breath behind the cupboard door.
As she stands shaking the bottle, her defiant eyes return to pour hungrily over Daryl's hulking form. The hard muscles in his arms tighten as he brings his knife down to hack strips of meat from the carcass. She watches in awe as his limbs move in fast, deliberate motions like he’s done this a hundred times. A building heat pulses through her body and when he cracks the deer's chest with skill and brutality, causing his biceps to heave, her thighs shudder and clench.
When she watches Daryl’s tongue dart out and run across his bottom lip it’s too much, her hands fumble and she drops the bottle with an echoing thud on the kitchen floor. His head snaps to the side, eyes zeroing in on the source of the noise, as Beth reaches forward for the dropped bottle. She feels her face grow hot as Daryl’s eyes flick up to hers and then her heart is pounding so loud in her ears she can’t function.
He’s faster than her, crouching down and plucking the bottle from the ground. Then he steps forward, and presses the bottle into her outstretched hand. When the tips of his fingers ghost over her palm a violent shiver racks her body. Daryl frowns, something uncertain flashes in his eyes as she clutches the bottle to her chest, all her muscles tense and curling in on herself.
Her mind is screaming at her to flee but her body is frozen to the spot, staring up at him with huge eyes as her rabbiting heart threatens to burst out of her chest. She watches as Daryl’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as they scan her reddened face.
“Girl, you’re shaking. You sick?”
He reaches a hand up towards her forehead, but she flinches back before it gets there.
His hand freezes.
Her churning stomach clenches with a fresh wave of guilt at the expression she watches spread across his face.
He looks hurt.
Without a word, she spins on her heel and bolts out of the kitchen. She moves as fast as she can without actually running, her heart pounding and her gut twisting all the way back to the cell block.
After she’s given Judith her bottle and settled her down for the night, Beth tells Carol she's going for a walk. She tucks her knife into her boot, just in case, and sets off, taking the long way round outside to her favourite spot behind the prison, breathing in the cool evening air as she goes.
The sun is starting to set and the sky is scattered with beautiful hues of orange and purple. With each step, Beth feels her shoulders relax as if a physical weight has been lifted off them, breathing deeply as she reaches her hiding place. She likes to come here to enjoy the peace and quiet; it's got kind of noisy in the prison since the Woodbury folk arrived. Not that she's complaining, but she's never once seen anyone else in all the times when she's come back here so it feels more private than her own cell. Maybe it's because she's a farm girl at heart but Beth has always felt more relaxed with the open sky above her head and fresh air in her lungs.
She doesn’t think she’s ever craved the solitude and tranquillity she finds here more than right now. Some time to think will hopefully help her to figure out how to be around Daryl without turning beet red and needing a defibrillator on standby. It’s beyond embarrassing. It’s ridiculous. But even the thought of him now makes her face feel warm and a flutter spark in her pelvis.
She's just about to take her usual spot on the steps leading to the building when she sees him. Daryl Dixon is leant against the back wall to the prison, smoking a cigarette. His arms are covered with sweat just like in her dream, his face turned up towards the sky, and although his eyes are obscured by his overgrown hair she’s sure he’s been watching the sunset same as her.
She feels the same damning blush colour her cheeks. Her feet come to a grinding halt as her stomach flips over, her breath catches in her throat and she cringes inwardly at her body’s wild and irrepressible reaction. Just setting eyes on him is enough to turn her into a blushing mess.
Hurriedly, she begins to change direction but it’s too late, his head turns towards her and his piercing blue eyes catch hers. Out of the corner of her eye she seems him push away from the wall, her already pounding heart skips a beat and she spins around so fast there’s a sway in her gait as she starts to walk away.
She hears the light tread of his boots follow in her direction and she quickens her pace, her heart jackhammering in her chest at the very real prospect of another painfully awkward encounter.
Her name on his lips stirs something in her chest, his voice a low rumble that sends heat searing down to her pussy and across her cheeks all at once. She feels hot tears prick at the corners of her eyes, forcing them shut and swallowing the lump in her throat. Pretending she hasn’t heard him, which is ridiculous given how close behind he is, she keeps walking because she really will cry in frustration if he sees her blushing like a fool again, and then he really will think she’s just a silly little girl. It makes no sense but she thinks in this moment she'd rather have him thinking she's a bitch than look at her like she's a child.
Her arm is nearly wrenched out of its socket as Daryl’s hand clamps down on her forearm and stops her dead in her tracks. She drops her face and looks at her shoes, sees his scuffed boots only inches away. He doesn’t let go but he does loosen his grip on her arm and she feels the heat of his palm burning against her bare skin. The flutter in her pelvis becomes a tremor.
“Beth, what the hell did I do?” He asks, somewhere between a frustrated huff and a whine, but with a tremble beneath it that makes her heart ache.
Beth’s head whips up, her eyes enormous in her flushed face, and he’s so close that she can smell the cigarette on his breath as she reluctantly meets his gaze.