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It was no easy feat, getting a finger inside Daryl Dixon’s ass. Rick had to work for it. And it took a couple of failed attempts before he got it right. 

First attempt, Rick tried it out. He just went for it, without even thinking. And yeah, Daryl had never exactly let him near that part of his body before, so maybe Rick should have known better than to dive right in. But their relationship was still new, and they had plenty left to explore about one another. Rick could count all the times they had sex on one hand. One time they’d exchanged hand jobs, the other three, blow jobs. But whenever Rick brought himself off, he loved to slip a finger inside his ass. It made him come harder than just jacking it alone. So it would only make sense that Daryl would love a finger in the butt, too. That’s how Rick rationalized it, at least. 

Back then, when their relationship was still new, nobody knew about it. Keeping it a secret meant they always had to dance around one another and pretend like they weren’t doing what they were doing. That meant they didn't get a lot of time to screw. It had been two weeks since their last opportunity to be alone, and oh, what a hellish two weeks it had been—positively littered with fire-hot looks across rooms, barely-there touches, and a mounting sexual tension that threatened to crush Rick under the weight of it. And a fucking absurd number of neglected boners. 

Rick's first attempt to get inside a finger Daryl's ass was on their fifth sexual encounter, after those hellish two weeks. Rick dragged Daryl off at the very first opportunity. They were both practically tripping over their feet from their eagerness.

Once the door closed behind them, they snuck in one, painful-hard kiss that, honestly, was only a formality. I love you, it said, but also, Yeah, yeah, I know! Get the fuck on with it! So, Rick shoved Daryl down on the bed and crawled over him. He yanked Daryl’s too-loose pants down to his thighs, and he pressed his tongue up Daryl's length in one broad stroke. Daryl arched up into it and cried out, saying something that sounded like it was meant to be, “Fuck, finally,” but came out more like, “Awww, fff—” and a gasp. But that was okay. Rick got the gist. 

Rick sucked Daryl down, hallowed his cheeks, and bobbed his head. He was on a mission to make the man lose his mind. Quick and dirty, that’s what they needed. And the faster he got Daryl shooting off in his mouth, the faster they could flip this show around, and get him under Daryl’s mouth. Because fuck, did he need it. He’d needed it for eons. His balls ached. 

Daryl’s body had rigidified. His muscles bound up tight and his fingers curled up in the bedsheets beneath him. He panted through the sloppy, wet slide of Rick’s mouth over him, and every now and then, on the particularly indulgent upward pulls, a panicked moan would escape Daryl, like he was scared by the intensity and speed of his approaching orgasm. Not even a minute in, he scrabbled for Rick’s hair and tried to pull him off, saying, “Shit, shit, shit,” but Rick grabbed his wrists, pinned them to the bed, and kept his pace.

“I’m gonna come, Rick,” he protested.

Rick ignored him. That was the point, after all. It wasn’t meant to last. Not this time around.

Daryl tugged against Rick’s grip on his wrists, so Rick released him. But Daryl kept his arms where Rick left them. Rick used his hands to work Daryl over: one hand on the shaft, pumping to meet his mouth, the other, rubbing over Daryl’s balls. It did wonders on Daryl. His shaking legs fell open. He held his hips up to give Rick room. 

Daryl’s words cut between gasping breaths. “God—fuck—fuck—” he said, “It’s—so—so good—gonna be so good.”

Rick groaned around Daryl’s cock. God, yes, he wanted it to be good. Rick would show Daryl exactly what he’d been missing the past couple of weeks. Rick wanted to ensure that every time Daryl touched himself—from now until forever—he’d think about Rick, and his mind-numbing blow job skills. 

Rick wanted Daryl to cum hard enough to see stars. He knew what did the trick for him, so he just went for it, without even thinking. He popped off Daryl’s dick, and sucked his own finger into his own mouth. Then he swallowed Daryl back down, and slid his finger between Daryl's legs.

Rick hadn’t even touched the hole. The second his slicked finger dipped between his tight-clenched ass cheeks, Daryl yelped, kicked away, and scrambled up the bed, almost hitting Rick in the eye with his boot in the process. He’d ripped his cock right out of Rick’s suctioned mouth, and received an unintentional drag of teeth up the length of the shaft for it. It probably really hurt. But Daryl sort of deserved it. It didn’t feel too nice on Rick’s jaw, either. Or his ego. 

Daryl pressed himself back against the wall and looked at Rick with huge eyes. Rick blinked back at him.

“What the fuck?!” Daryl said.

Rick scoffed. “Yeah, Daryl, what the fuck?” 

Rick’s eyes flicked down to Daryl’s cock. It had softened. Was he seriously that freaked out? By a finger?

“What the fuck were ya doin’?” Daryl asked.

Rick laughed awkwardly. “…Makin’…you…come?”

“You ain’t never done that other shit ‘fore.”

“There’s plenty of shit we haven’t done before.”

“Well not that. No. I ain’t inta that.” He pushed himself up off the bed and pulled up his pants. He fastened up his belt with a boatload of ‘tude and a backwards glare at Rick. 

“Seriously?” Rick said. Daryl walked away. “Are you for real?”

The door smacked closed behind him. Rick stared at it, mouth agape. His own dick strained against his pants, still offensively hard.

Rick did not get a blow job that day. It was four days before they had another opportunity. But Daryl didn’t say a word about the finger incident, and Rick didn’t dare bring it up himself. Not when his blow jobs were on the line. So, they didn’t talk about it. Not for months.

During that time, they fell into a routine—one that did not involve any interaction with either of their butts. It did, however, feature a comfortable, romantic love that made Rick happy beyond belief, and an ever-increasing number of blow jobs. At any available opportunity, they sucked each other off. The longer they'd been together, the worse it got—like the opposite of a honeymoon phase. Once they got comfortable in their relationship, they chanced riskier situations. They knew each other’s bodies well enough by now that they could both come in record time. So every time they had five minutes alone, they jumped on the chance. The last person walked out of the room? Blow job. Just the two of them in the car? Blow job. A mostly-private, mostly-safe location, and a few minutes before the rest of their run group would catch up with them? You better believe that Rick Grimes would drop to his knees and get to work. Things were fun. Easy. Rick had never been in a better relationship. He never really forgot about Daryl’s weird hang-up about his ass, but it was easy to push it to the back of his mind. 


Daryl was the one who brought up the topic of fingers again. They were out checking the snares. Rick went along with Daryl pretty often, because if he did, it meant he’d get his back against a tree and Daryl’s lips wrapped around his cock. They had already finished up that part of their expedition, though. Now they’d moved into the part with dead animals, wandering walkers, and quiet company. Which really wasn’t so bad. Rick liked the company, at least. 

Daryl asked, “Do you like that sort of thing?”

Rick had no idea what the hell he was talking about. “What?”

Daryl picked up his pace. “Do you like that sort of thing?” he said, like repeating himself would clarify anything at all. 

“What sort of thing?”

Daryl mumbled something, but Rick couldn’t hear. He caught up, so that he was walking in line with Daryl.

What?” Rick asked.

Daryl’s glanced at him. He gnawed at his lip. “Fingers,” he mumbled.

“Do I like fingers?” 

“Yeah. Fingers in—in—”

Oh. Oh!

Rick’s face burned up. Why did Daryl have to go and ask like that? It made Rick feel weird. Like he should be embarrassed for liking it.

“Well…yeah. I’m a man. Most men like it. Well the one’s who have tried it, at least. It feels good.”

Daryl looked at him skeptically, but Rick didn’t falter. Rick held Daryl’s gaze, until Daryl’s expression morphed from doubt to determination. “Okay,” Daryl said with a nod. 

Rick slowed, but Daryl kept going, leaving him behind to wonder what the hell had just been decided inside Dixon’s head. 


Thankfully, Rick didn’t have to wonder long. That night, Daryl cornered Rick in his room. He laid Rick down, spread him out, and (with startling purposefulness) fingered his ass with a spit-slick finger while Rick stroked himself off. It was the hottest thing Rick had ever experienced. There was hardly anything to it. Just Daryl’s warm hand on his knee. A single, thick finger moving slowly inside of him. Daryl’s heated gaze on Rick, watching him buck and twitch through every push and pull. 

“You really do like it, huh?” Daryl murmured. He pushed in again.

Rick whined and slowed his stroke. He peeked at Daryl through lidded eyes. Daryl stared, transfixed by Rick’s rhythmic chest, burning face, and panting mouth. Daryl pulled out, nearly all the way. Rick groaned. Daryl shoved himself back in.

“Yes,” Rick said. “God, god, yes, Daryl, yes.” He fucking loved it. 

Daryl didn't know how to crook his finger right. The straight in-and-out method he’d taken up hadn’t even grazed Rick’s prostate. But it didn’t matter. Nothing had ever felt so good as Daryl lodged inside of him. Rick wanted more. He wanted Daryl to slick his hole up and push two inside. Hell, he’d take three, if Daryl would give it to him. Rick wanted Daryl to move faster, harder, to hold him down and finger fuck him until he couldn’t breathe right. Until he could feel nothing but Daryl thickness and his own pulsing cock.

But for now, one finger would be enough. He didn’t dare ask for more. He was so fucking close. 

“God, yes, Daryl,” he said. “Fuck me.”

Daryl breathed in sharp and moved faster. Rick gasped. 

“Yeah! Oh, fuck! Fuck—!” One of Rick’s hands fumbled in the sheet. He fisted it up and held on. The other hand flew over his cock. His back raised off the bed. 

“Please! Please, please, please.” He didn’t even know what he was begging for. But Daryl gave it to him. He hooked his hand under Rick’s knee and pushed up. He folded Rick in half under his strong grip, the finger still pumping fast in and out of Rick’s ass. It made Rick come.

Daryl held him like that and kept moving the finger inside him. Rick shuddered through his orgasm. It made his head spin. Each breath rattled through his body. It never felt that good when he did it to himself. Which only made Rick want to do it to Daryl that much more. Daryl should have the opportunity to know, firsthand, how good a finger can be. 

The last streak of come landed across his chest. Daryl pulled out, let him go, and Rick fell limp onto the bed. Rick’s breathing steadied as he basked in the warm, white glow. 

When Rick finally came down from it, he blinked up at Daryl, who was on his knees at the end of the bed, palming at his constrained cock. Rick pushed himself up. Rick pressed their lips together. Daryl wrapped his arms around Rick’s neck, and Rick wrapped his around Daryl’s middle, and they kissed with plucking lips and languid tongues.

Against Daryl’s mouth, Rick whispered, “Thank you.”

Daryl bobbed his head. Rick smiled.

It wasn’t long before Daryl’s need transformed their loving kisses into something desperate and hot. Daryl held Rick tight and rolled his hips against him. Rick felt the lump in Daryl’s jeans with every movement. Rick encouraged Daryl’s shallow thrusts against him by guiding his hips. But he didn’t take out his cock, like he knew Daryl wanted. He let Daryl kiss him, but he hardly kissed back. Rick stayed pliant and passive, let Daryl do as he please, but gave next to nothing. It only took a minute before Daryl got real tired of that shit. He groaned his irritation and dropped his head onto Rick’s shoulder.

Rick,” he said.

Rick dug his fingers into Daryl’s hips. “How hard are you?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice.

“Why don’t ya find out?” He pressed himself against Rick.

Rick chuckled. He skirted his hands around Daryl’s back. He continued to guide Daryl’s thrusts, but with each one, he let his hands slide lower, until they came to rest at the top of Daryl’s ass. Daryl hardly seemed to notice. 

“It turn you on, to fuck me like that?” Rick asked.

Daryl growled. He picked up speed. He was panting in Rick’s ear now. Much longer and he’d come without even getting his cock out. 

It seemed like the perfect chance to get inside Daryl. So, for his second attempt, Rick offered.

Rick slid his hands even lower, and splayed them open over Daryl’s ass. He pressed his lips against Daryl’s ear and asked, “You want me to do it for you?” 

Daryl froze. His ass clenched up tight under Rick’s hands, like he was afraid Rick’s rascally finger would bust through the jean wall and burrow inside him otherwise.

“Told ya. Ain’t into that,” Daryl said.

Disappointment settled heavy in Rick's gut. “Okay."

He didn’t want to push the matter. Not now, at least. He flipped them over and gave Daryl a damn good blow job. It lasted two minutes, and included zero fingers. 


After that, whenever they had the time and safety, Daryl would part Rick’s legs and push a finger into him while Rick worked himself over. Rick liked it even better than the blow jobs. Daryl still didn’t know to hit his prostate right, but Rick didn’t want to correct his technique. Sometimes Daryl would brush over it, and it’d be an unexpected (and greatly appreciated) surprise.

The first two times they used spit again, but then Daryl (Daryl!) picked up a bottle of lube while on a run. His coated finger could slip in without any resistance from Rick’s hole. It felt even better with the slick. Daryl could move fast that way. 

But it filled Rick’s head with ideas about more. He was left wanting, though he wasn’t brave enough to make the request. Even worse, having Daryl’s finger fucking into him on a semi-regular basis constantly reminded Rick how much Daryl was missing out. Rick never felt as good as when he had Daryl’s thickness buried to the last knuckle inside him. He wanted Daryl to feel that pleasure, too. Sex was about reciprocation, but their dynamic was starting to feel uncomfortably weighted in his favor. Even if Daryl didn’t realize it.

Third attempt, Rick asked him for an explanation.

They were eating dinner together, off away from the others. They sat on the floor, backs against the wall, plates in their laps. They’d been talking about plans for their next supply run, but the conversation reached its natural conclusion and they lapsed into comfortable silence. It was as good a time as any, so Rick decided to throw it out there, plain and simple. No sense in skirting around the issue.

“How come you don’t want me inside your ass?”

Daryl choked on his food. He hacked and beat his chest with an open hand. He had to swallow down his entire glass of water in thick gulps to clear the obstruction. Rick watched him with a raised eyebrow. Finally, after nearly two minutes of struggle, Daryl said, “What?”

“You won’t let me near your ass. Why?”

Daryl stared at him. His mouth hung open. He closed it. It fell open again. “Because I ain’t inta that.”

“Well you clearly never tried it, so I don’t know how you could know one way or another if you’re ‘into’ it. Why don’t you wanna try with me? I’ll do it right.”

“Because—because it’s…”

Rick raised his eyebrows. “It’s…?”


Rick laughed, but Daryl glared at him. Rick’s eyes widened. He fell silent. Oh. Daryl wasn’t joking. He didn’t want a finger in his ass because he thought it was too gay?

Rick licked his lips. His brow scrunched. He tilted his head and pushed a long sigh out his nose. “Daryl, I don’t know how to tell you this, but…we’re gay.”

“Fuck off.”

“We are in a gay relationship.”

“Shut up.”

“You are in love with me, another man.”

“Will you fuckin’ quit it?” Daryl looked determined to burn holes right through Rick’s head with his gaze alone.

Rick laughed, but it was out of discomfort, rather than humor. “Are you serious, Daryl?”

“Just ‘cause I’m with ya don’t make me queer.” He turned toward his plate and stuffed his mouth full. “Yer the exception, not the rule.”

It hit Rick in the chest. The bitter pang vibrated out into his whole body. It hurt from head to foot, and everywhere in between.

He pushed himself up and walked away.

“Rick?” Daryl called after him, but he kept walking. “Rick?”

He didn’t look back. 


They barely talked at all for three days after that. Rick stewed in his anger, and Daryl kept his distance. He’d cast regretful looks Rick’s way, and Rick sent dirty looks back. In the end, it manifested as their first real fight. Daryl caught Rick alone, and tried to apologize. He said that he didn’t mean it. Rick said that he obviously did. Daryl called himself a moron. Rick agreed.

The problem was, Daryl didn’t know the right words to say, and Rick was too angry to cut him any slack. So, things escalated until they were shout-whispering at one another. Eventually, after plenty of pointless squabbling, they reached the heart of the issue.

“You’re ashamed of me,” Rick hissed. “You hate that I’m a man.”

“I ain’t ashamed. I love you,” Daryl said.

“But you wish you didn’t. I’m just too complicated for you, aren’t I? Makin’ you question shit ‘bout yourself you’re not ready to face.”

“No! You got it all wrong, Rick.”

“I don’t. I got it just right. I’m your dirty secret. That’s why you don’t want anyone knowin’. Heaven forbid they think you’re queer.” 

Daryl expression darkened. He looked Rick in the eye, and Rick met his gaze unwaveringly. It was a challenge. Prove me wrong, Rick’s look said. Daryl turned and marched off without another word. 


That night at dinner, Daryl stood and called for everybody’s attention. A whole room of confused eyes turned to look at him, but Daryl didn’t look at any of them. He stared right at Rick, as if speaking to him alone. He said, like he’d practiced it in his head all day, “I’d like to say that me ’n’ Rick are together. Been goin’ on for a few months now, and we’re in love. And if anyone’s got a fuckin’ problem with that they can come ta me.” Then he flopped back down and started eating. 

Everybody looked around at each other, surprised. They all looked at Rick, too. Undoubtedly, they could see his bright blush, wide smile, and shining eyes. That’s all they needed to know it was true. 

But just in case they had any doubts, Rick said, “Yeah.” 

Heads nodded and grins crept up. A select few looked happy enough to do a goddamn dance on their behalf, but they restrained themselves, if only to preserve the calm, reserved atmosphere in the room. Their family knew better than to make a big deal about it. 

Someone said, “That’s great. We’re real happy for you guys.” 

The others murmured their agreement. Daryl pretended not to hear, but Rick took notice of his pleased blush, and the twitch of a smile at his lips.

Dinner continued on as normal, except Daryl and Rick both got a few pats on the back and whispered congratulations from people heading out with their cleared plates. Only a few were confident enough to approach Daryl, and even those that were, didn’t say anything to him. They communicated their approval with a hand on Daryl’s shoulder, a loud look, or a nod. Rick was beholden to every one of those that did extend their approval, because each gesture made Daryl sit up straighter and lift his eyes a little more often. Plus it brightened up that pretty pink tint to his cheeks. 

Daryl ate slow, and Rick did the same. Daryl didn’t look at Rick, even though Rick spent most the meal staring right at him. By the time Daryl finished eating, only he, Rick, and a few stragglers remained. Daryl’s gaze flicked up, and Rick's was right there waiting for him. The look in Daryl's eye stole the air right out of Rick’s lungs. He tingled all over—lively, dancing pinpoints all along his skin. The budding warmth inside him made him feel light and giddy. 

A message passed wordlessly between them. Now.

Daryl pushed up from the table. His chair screeched along the floor and his cup fell with a clatter. He announced he was going to bed, and strode out. Rick’s stomach flipped excitedly. He planned on waiting their standard twenty minutes before he followed Daryl, but then he realized they didn’t need those rules anymore. No more sneaking around. So, he said, “Me too,” and followed him out. Nobody said anything, but he did receive a couple knowing smiles. Rick’s face burned hot, but he smiled back. 


Daryl’s crushed his lips against Rick’s the minute Rick stepped into the room. Rick breathed in sharp from the initial shock. Daryl backed him against the wall, tangled his fingers in Rick’s hair, and kissed him with a ferocity that turned Rick’s bones to mush.

Rick’s knees threatened to buckle, so he grabbed onto Daryl’s shirt and hauled him in, so that Daryl’s body pinned him upright against the wall. Daryl slotted their mouths together and kissed Rick boldly. Rick matched every touch, slide, roll of Daryl’s tongue with his own. They kissed until they ran out of air. Then they kept kissing still. Finally, Daryl pulled off, gasping. 

“Ain’t ashamed. Ain’t ever. Love you.”

“God, Daryl, I love you, too.”

Daryl latched back onto Rick’s lips—a sweet, suctioned kiss so full of adoration that it made Rick’s heart speed up and his fingers tighten in Daryl’s shirt. Then Daryl slid his tongue back in, and Rick groaned. 

Daryl started on Rick’s belt. He fumbled with the latch as he guided them towards the bed. He got the belt and Rick’s pants unfastened. Then he pushed Rick back onto the mattress. Rick fell with a fwump. 

“Get ‘em off. Everythin’,” Daryl said. Rick scrambled to strip himself. He kicked and wriggled his way out of his clothes. Daryl opened his nightstand drawer and pulled out the lube bottle. The sight of it made Rick's body heat. He chucked his discarded clothes on the floor just as Daryl turned to look at him. 

Daryl’s eyes raked down Rick’s body, laid bare across his bed. If being ass naked while Daryl remained fully clothed wasn’t enough to make Rick feel wanton, then the way Daryl looked at him certainly was. Rick didn’t even want to know how he must look. Flushed red, chest heaving, cock painfully hard and leaking onto his stomach—all from a few kisses and the promise of Daryl’s finger. 

Daryl moved to stand over Rick. He stared down at him shamelessly, with lidded eyes and his bottom lip between his teeth. The longer he looked, the harder Rick’s breathing became. Rick’s hips started rolling on their own. He needed it so goddamn bad. Daryl smirked at him. He trailed a finger over Rick’s hipbone. Rick arched into the feather-soft touch.

“Beautiful,” Daryl said. “Every damn inch of ya.”

Rick’s heart fluttered. Daryl dragged his finger down the length of Rick’s thigh. Rick chased the touch. It brought his leg up and out. Daryl growled at the sight of Rick’s legs parting open for him. He brought his fingertip back up, toward the place Rick so desperately needed it. Rick spread his legs wider. He grabbed Daryl’s teasing hand. 

Please,” Rick asked. Daryl’s patience evaporated into nothingness right before his eyes. 

Daryl kicked off his boots and climbed on the bed. He settled in his usual place—criss cross, Rick’s legs on either side of him. Daryl’s jeans were rough against Rick’s skin, but he didn’t care. He laid his legs across Daryl’s. Daryl rubbed a warm, dry hand up and down Rick’s thigh and popped the cap on the lube. He squeezed a dollop in Rick’s outstretched hand, and Rick worked it down his length. He sighed. It was a relief to have his hand moving over himself. Having Daryl right in front of him, watching him do it, made it even better. 

“Need you,” Rick said. He shifted his hips up in invitation. 

“I got ya,” Daryl said. He coated his finger with an excessive amount of lube. Rick’s heart hammered. He sped up his stroke. 

Daryl slid his finger into place between Rick’s cheeks. He pressed against the hole and looked up at Rick.

“Okay?” he asked. He always asked. 

Rick nodded furiously. He dropped his head back, widened his legs, and raised his hips. “Yeah,” he said. Like he always did. But this time he added, “Fuck me hard.”

Daryl breathed in sharp through his nose. He pressed his finger inside. Rick’s hole swallowed up the intrusion. Rick moaned.

Daryl wasted no time. He fucked his finger into Rick in fast, straight thrusts. His hand smacked against Rick’s ass every time he buried it to the knuckle. Rick quickly devolved into a string of barely-sensical moans. 

“Yeah—yeah—oh God, Daryl.”

He tried to roll his hips in time with Daryl’s trusting finger, but he couldn’t move fast enough. He wanted more.

“Please, Daryl,” he said. 

Daryl didn’t hesitate to oblige Rick’s request. He put Rick’s leg over his shoulder, hooked there by the knee. He folded Rick in half and leaned his weight against him. Rick wouldn’t be able to get out from under him, even if he wanted to. Not that he’d want to. 

“Mmff…yeah.” Rick said. 

Daryl continued to fuck into Rick, but he slowed his pace. Rick whined his protest. Daryl slowed it even more. Each push and pull out of Rick’s ass became torturously drawn out. 

“I like ya like this,” Daryl whispered.

Rick whimpered and squeezed his shut eyes tighter. Daryl’s voice sounded criminally arousing. It was rugged, rough, and sex-deep. “Like—what?” Rick asked between panting breaths. He already had a pretty good idea what the answer was, but he wanted to hear Daryl say it.

“Beggin’ me. Ya want it so bad.”

“I do, I do.” Rick bobbed his head.

“I love givin’ it to ya.”

“I love—God, I love takin’ it. Love you inside me.”


“Fuck yeah.”

Daryl groaned. He sped up his pumping finger. Rick groped for Daryl’s shirt. Once he got it in his grasp, he yanked Daryl forward to kiss him. The move caught Daryl off guard, but he kept his finger moving when he fell forward.

Rick gasped. His tight-clenched eyes flew open. The changed angle had forced Daryl to crook his finger—just right. 

Fuck,” Rick said. 

Daryl pulled back quick. He moved to withdraw his finger, but Rick grabbed his wrist and held him inside.

“No, no, don’t!” Rick said. 

“What? You hurt?” Daryl asked. 

“No, it’s good. Fuck, it’s so good.”


“Move your finger—Circles.”

Daryl blinked down at Rick. Rick’s eyes pleaded back. For good measure, Rick whispered, “Please.” Might as well, since Daryl liked him begging. 

Daryl bit his lip. He moved his finger in a slow circle. Rick gasped and arched off the bed. 

“Yeah!” he said, “Ohhh…yeah, yeah, yeah. Like that. Just like that.”

Daryl looked bewildered, but he did it again, and thanks to Rick’s continued garbled encouragements, a third time. Then Rick said, “Fuck, please don’t stop. Please,” so Daryl set a pace and rubbed away at that perfect spot buried deep inside Rick’s body. 

It was some next level stuff, that finger massaging Rick’s prostate. Now it wasn’t just the pleasure of Daryl’s thickness filling him up, but also the electric-current shocks that coursed up his spine. Every careful press of Daryl’s finger vibrated through Rick’s whole body—but in his cock most of all. It overwhelmed him. He couldn’t go on stroking himself off, or else he’d ruin things by coming too soon. So, Rick fisted his hands in the sheet and focused on the feeling of Daryl’s kneading finger. 

But then Daryl picked up speed, and Rick’s cock twitched eagerly against his stomach, no hand necessary. That familiar feeling of approaching orgasm mounted inside Rick’s abdomen, and he realized he might not have to touch himself at all. He’d wanted Daryl’s finger like this for so long, and it felt fucking perfect. He almost, almost could come from it alone. He just needed a little more. 

“Kiss me,” Rick said.

Daryl captured Rick’s lips. Rick tangled his hands in Daryl’s overgrown hair and kissed him with indulgence. Their tongues loved over one another. Daryl moved his finger through it. Rick’s chest rumbled with and endless stream of moans. 

Daryl broke away. He pressed his forehead against Rick’s and panted. “So—” He circled his finger. “—fucking—” Again, but harder this time. “—hot.” He pressed in as far as he could go, and set a new, goal-oriented pace, his finger against Rick’s prostate, moving hard and quick. It pulsed through Rick’s body.

“Two!” Rick cried. 


“Two, I need two! Fuck, Daryl, give me more.

Daryl’s uncertainty slowed his movement. Rick sobbed his frustration. “Please,” he said. All his hesitancy had fallen away. He was shameless. He needed that second finger like he needed the air in his lungs. Given how erratic his breathing had become, Rick thought maybe he needed the finger even more. 

“I don’t wanna hurt ya,” Daryl said. He kept his finger moving. 

“Won’t—Won’t hurt—So good—God, Daryl, you got no idea. No idea how good—please—lube—two…”

After a few moments, Daryl slid his finger out. Rick shuddered at the loss. But then he heard the cap of the lube bottle, and heat prickled across his skin.

Yessss,” Rick said. He turned his head to the side, the soft pillow pressed against his cheek, and breathed unsteadily.

Daryl’s two wet fingers lined up with his twitching hole. Daryl stroked them over the pucker. Rick body quivered in anticipation.

“Okay?” he asked. 



Rick sighed deeply and chased the tension out of his muscles. Once he reached the end of his breath, and his body had gone nearly-limp, Daryl breeched his entrance. Rick clenched around the intrusion. Two fingers felt different than one. Two stretched him out. 

Daryl stopped at the first knuckle, only his fingertips inside Rick.


“Yes. Give it to me.”

Daryl sunk inside, and didn’t stop until his fingers were seated. Rick’s hole opened to accommodate Daryl. It burned a little, but it didn’t hurt. It felt fucking amazing. Rick thought that one finger had filled him up, but one was nothing compared to two. This, this was what he’d been waiting for: to be stretched out by Daryl’s unyielding thickness.


Rick bobbed his head. “Move."

Daryl started out slow. But once he hit the right spot, it started up Rick’s mindless, moaned pleas, and it wasn’t long before Daryl was fucking Rick hard, with bent fingers. Rick didn’t touch himself, but he could feel Daryl’s movements in his cock. It kept twitching against his stomach expectantly, preparing itself for the orgasm building up in his balls. His hips started to roll in time with Daryl's thrusts, chasing the sensations that would send him over the edge.

Daryl leaned down to kiss Rick again. Rick whimpered against his lips.

“You’re beautiful. Got me so hard,” Daryl said.

Rick laughed breathlessly. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah. The way yer goin’ on…ain’t never been so hard in my goddamn life.”

Rick’s stomach flipped. He could think of somewhere Daryl could stick that hard cock of his. Did Rick dare ask for it? Maybe he should. He’d gotten this far, after all. He felt brave. So he said, “Lemme see.”


“Take it out. Lemme see.”

Daryl looked at him confused, like he didn’t understand Rick’s request. But then his brain caught up to him and he nodded. He slid his fingers out of Rick. He sat back, on his knees, and started on his belt. But Rick sat up, scooted in close, and shooed Daryl’s hands away. He looked Daryl in the eye as he worked his pants open. Once he’d unfastened everything, Rick pulled out Daryl’s cock and stared down at it.

It stood at attention, flushed red and leaking steadily. Daryl grunted. His hips twitched into Rick’s grip, but Rick held it firmly at the base. Daryl’s cock filled up his whole hand. Thick, Rick’s brain cried, and fuck yeah it was. He wanted it. He needed it. 

“Lube,” Rick said.

Daryl fumbled around the messed blankets looking for the bottle. He got ahold of it and offered it over. Rick took it, popped the cap with his teeth, and poured the cool liquid directly onto Daryl’s dick. Daryl hissed at the sensation. Rick dragged his hand up Daryl’s length, then worked it back down, thoroughly coating him with the slick.

Daryl’s face was flushed. His stringy hair had matted down to his forehead from the thin sheen of sweat covering his whole body. His lids hung low, his mouth hung open, and each breath came out loud. Daryl looked at him like Rick was the best goddamn thing to ever exist. It stirred butterflies up inside Rick’s belly. It made his heart pound, and his body heat with need. 

“Put it in me,” Rick said.

Daryl’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Put it in me,” Rick said. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Are you crazy? I’m gonna hurt you.”

Rick shook his head. He stroked Daryl up and down—a shameless attempt at persuasion. “I can take it. I need you inside me,” he said. “Please.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed, and he frowned. His eyes searched Rick’s. Rick could see the gears turning in Daryl’s head. Rick squeezed his cock and gave Daryl a small smile. Daryl let out a pained huff. “Will you tell me if I gotta stop?” he asked.

Rick’s smile broadened, and he pecked Daryl’s lips. “Of course,” he said. He gave Daryl a few quick strokes, then fell back against the bed, pulling Daryl along with him by the shirt. Daryl fell on all fours over Rick. He looked nervous. Rick leaned up and kissed him long and sweet. He spread his legs. 

“It’s okay,” Rick said. “Just go slow.”

Daryl nodded. He lined up his cock.

“Okay?” he asked.


Daryl breathed out shakily, and pressed his head against Rick’s hole. Rick relaxed his body, and Daryl pushed in.

And Daryl fucked him. It was the best sex Rick ever had. Daryl did take his time, just like Rick told him to—in fact, he went painstakingly slow. He moved carefully, and didn’t do anything until Rick asked (begged) for it. But Rick felt brave enough to ask for more when he wanted it, and by the end, Daryl was smacking his hips against Rick with every brutal thrust.

They both dripped in sweat and made a whole chorus of lewd sounds. It was mostly Rick carrying on, babbling out curse words and pleas, but Daryl contributed a fair amount himself. He got louder than Rick had ever heard him—which essentially amounted to a higher volume and frequency of his grunts—but each sound he made filled Rick with pride and fire. He’s making those sounds because of me, Rick thought. He loves fucking me. He loves how I feel.

Daryl said, hot against Rick’s ear, “I’m gonna come.”

And fuck, Rick was gonna come, too. He felt so full. And Daryl was hitting him just right, with every snap of his hips. Rick's muscles were tight. His body trembled. It was difficult to get the words out between the gasps and moans, but Rick managed to whisper against Daryl’s cheek, “Come inside me, Daryl.” 

Daryl groaned and sped up thrusts. Rick tightened his grip in Daryl’s sweat-dripping hair.

“Won’t last. Touch yourself,” Daryl said.

But Rick didn’t need to. Not with Daryl fucking him, stretching him open, hitting his prostate on every thrust. Daryl, debauched and unraveling, buried deep inside his ass, and loving every minute of it. 

“Rick,” Daryl said, high-pitched and forewarning. He didn’t slow down. 

Rick's orgasm hit hard. His cock shot pulses of come up his chest. Rick thrust and shuddered and moaned through it. It was a miracle he didn’t rip Daryl’s hair right out of his head. Rick didn’t see, didn’t hear, didn’t feel anything but the rolling waves of pleasure that overtook him. He hardly even noticed when Daryl stilled inside him, hips pressed hard against his ass, and jerked through his own orgasm. 

Once Rick’s cock emptied out everything in him, it twitched happily on his stomach. Rick sighed and flopped boneless on the bed. He smiled wide, but didn’t open his eyes. Daryl huffed out a laugh above him. Carefully, he pulled out, and dropped himself down on top of Rick. It crushed the air out of Rick’s lungs. “Oooof,” he went, but he snickered and made no move to shove Daryl off. He could deal with being smushed. For a few minutes at least. He combed a lazy hand through Daryl’s hair. 

“Fuck,” Daryl said. 

Rick laughed. “Yeah,” he said.

“You didn’t even touch it.”

“Didn’t have to.”

Daryl didn’t say anything for a moment. Rick kept stroking his hair.

“Is it really that good?” Daryl asked.

Rick’s hand stopped. He refrained from laughing. Did Daryl really have to ask? He saw it for himself, didn’t he? Rick gently tugged Daryl’s head up. He kissed him, soft and tender. Nothing more than an attentive press of lips-to-lips. He pulled back and looked Daryl in the eye.

“Yes,” Rick said. “Having you inside me is really that good.”


After that, they established a new norm. Their hurried, risky blow jobs stayed the same, but now, whenever Daryl had the time to slip one finger into Rick’s ass, he made sure he had time to push in two, sometimes three, but always, eventually, his cock. Rick adapted to the new sensation of getting fucked, and he loved it more than anything else. Daryl filling him never failed to make Rick lose his mind. 

Daryl discovered how embarrassingly easy it was to make Rick beg for it. Daryl took advantage of it often. He would, with a mischievous smirk, take things torturously slow. Or, he’d go hard and purposeful, until Rick was nearly there, then he’d stop dead to yank Rick back from the edge just before he toppled over. Just to hear Rick beg.

Rick might have resented him for being such an awful tease, if Rick saying, “Please,” didn’t get Daryl so flustered. It would wipe that taunting smirk right off his face and replace it with desire, every time. Rick loved seeing Daryl like that, so he said it constantly during sex. It got to the point that Rick could say the word in any setting, and it’d turn Daryl’s face cherry red. “Please help me with this, Daryl,” Rick would say, and Daryl’d turn into a fidgety, stammering mess. “Pass that over, please.” “Could you please go talk to so-and-so.” “Come back safe. Please.” And Daryl would stare at his shoes and blush and bite his nail and do whatever it was Rick asked of him. Always. Rick started to think if he asked Daryl to please fetch him the moon, Daryl would drop it at his feet the next day. 

Over time, Daryl’s inhibitions fell away. He relaxed a bit—in their relationship, and in his life in general. Rick could tell that being out as a couple, and having their family’s unanimous support, meant a lot to Daryl. Rick appreciated their support, but he wasn’t surprised by it. The world had changed, after all. The social rules had, too. Nobody had time to care anymore about things like gay love. And even if such stupid social norms had been maintained in some parts of the new wasteland world, it didn’t matter to them anyway. They had surrounded themselves with good, loyal people. Rick never dreamed of their family being anything but supportive of him and Daryl. But Rick began to suspect that at one point, Daryl genuinely did fear their rejection—expected it, even. He always looked a little shocked whenever anybody said something positive about his relationship with Rick.

After a few weeks of being out, Daryl caught Rick of guard with a kiss. 

He’d just gotten back from a run. Rick met the run team at the gates. Daryl came into view. He looked damn fine. His loping stride made Rick’s heart flutter. Daryl had a backpack on one shoulder, and his crossbow on the other. He was absolutely filthy, head to toe. He had matted hair, his low slung pants were covered in mud, and a mist of dried blood speckled his skin. Their eyes locked, and Rick smiled huge. Daryl blushed bright and smiled at his feet. He walked right up to Rick. 

“Hey,” Daryl said. Then he kissed him. Right there, in front of everybody. It wasn’t anything more than a peck, and his face had turned red because of it, but still. Daryl kissed him, not even caring who saw. Rick’s smile hurt his cheeks. 

Once Daryl had done it the first time, the floodgates opened up. He became a PDA maniac. He’d quickly taken to kissing Rick hello and goodbye. Daryl would always take the seat next to Rick, and more often than not, cozy up to him. If they were walking with one another, sometimes he’d wind their fingers together, and they’d continue on, hand in hand. For some reason, that was the thing that would make Rick blush the hardest. But he loved all of it. Every touch felt like a silent, I love you.

But it still bothered Rick that he wasn’t allowed near Daryl ass. Daryl didn’t even want him touching it. A friendly smack on the butt would make Daryl go rigid. Rick’s hands slinking down too low during a heated make out session—same thing. Daryl’s ass was restricted territory. Rick didn’t like that he could make Daryl so uncomfortable with a single misplaced touch. Especially since he never meant anything by it. Daryl responded to Rick touching his ass as if he was worried it was part of some evil ploy to get his dick inside him. 

It wasn’t even about Rick wanting to fuck Daryl. He would be more than happy to, if that’s what Daryl wanted, but Rick would be just fine without it. Rick preferred getting fucked, and would regardless, even if fucking was on the table for him. Honestly, Rick didn’t even want his cock involved. He just wanted to get a finger inside Daryl. Because Rick knew that Daryl would like it, if he let himself. Rick wanted Daryl to experience every sort of pleasure. He wanted to make Daryl feel good, in ways that Daryl never even imagined. He hated to see Daryl held back by his own deep-rooted prejudices. But that’s what happens when you’re raised by a sick society with twisted ideals. Sometimes you absorb that shit into your mind without even realizing it’s toxicity.

But Rick didn’t want to push the matter. He respected Daryl’s boundaries. So, Rick put it in the back of his mind. They went months without saying a single word about it. Rick followed Daryl’s rules and stayed away from his butt. Daryl, on the other hand, fulfilled Rick’s requests to fuck him senseless.

On one occasion, Rick came the same way he did during their early days: a hand on his cock, and one of Daryl’s fingers inside of him. It had been so many days since Rick last came, he’d lost track. So, he knew from the moment he’d fallen into bed with Daryl he wouldn’t last long. Once Daryl had his fingertip rotating against that sweet spot inside his ass, it only took a few tugs on his cock before Rick shot his load. Daryl watched him through the waves of orgasm while he continued to work his finger, mesmerized by Rick. Every twitch, moan, buck, whine, thrust, completely captivated him. 

He waited until Rick’s breathing returned to normal. He pulled his finger out slow.

Daryl said, “You make it look real good.”

Rick chuckled at him. “It is good.”

“What’s it feel like?”

The question caught Rick off guard. He tried to mask his shock, but he blinked a couple of times before he could find an answer. “I don’t know how to describe it,” he said. “It’s something you gotta feel for yourself.”

Daryl frowned and dropped his eyes. He nodded. 

Rick couldn’t help but smile. Daryl was curious. It gave Rick an idea. A new direction to try out. 

Fourth attempt, Rick extended an open invitation.

“You know,” Rick said, “If you ever wanna try, we can. I’ll do it for you. Just a finger. Won’t hurt a bit. I promise you.”

Daryl didn’t say anything.

Rick went on: “Don’t be afraid to ask. I’m tellin’ you now, the answer’s yes. Whenever you want. Just give the word.”

Daryl nodded. Then he rolled onto his back and Rick sucked him off. No fingers included, and not another word about them. 


Over the next few days, Daryl became weirdly contemplative. Every time he caught Rick’s eye Daryl’s brow would scrunch up, and his hand would jump to his mouth so that he could gnaw at his nails. Rick had a pretty good idea as to what Daryl was turning over in his head, so he didn’t dare do anything that might upset his silent self-exploration. Daryl would come to a decision soon enough. Rick only had to wait.

In the end, it took four days. That morning, Daryl hovered around Rick for hours. Daryl kept looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He was glaring, really. Rick didn’t think he deserved the ‘tude. He hadn’t done anything. It drove him nuts that Daryl looked like he had something on the tip of his tongue, ready to blurt out at any moment, but never said a goddamn word. Rick dealt with it though. He didn’t want to ask, ‘What?’ when he knew it would only scare Daryl off. So he mostly ignored him, except to bestow upon him the occasional, willfully-ignorant smile. Daryl would only frown back at him. 

When Rick wandered off on his own, Daryl followed him. He fell into step beside him. Rick glanced at Daryl with raised eyebrows. 

“Hey,” Rick said. 

“Rick,” Daryl said. He stopped walking. 

Rick stopped and turned to face him. “Yeah?”

“Tonight,” Daryl said. “One.” He held up a one. Rick’s heart hammered in his chest. His eyes flicked over to Daryl’s raised finger. Daryl looked at it too, then flushed bright red and quickly pulled the finger back into his fist. He cleared his throat awkwardly and dropped his hand. “One. No fuckin’ funny business.”

Rick pulse pounded in his head. “Okay,” he said. 

Daryl licked his lips. His eyes searched Rick’s. He seemed satisfied with what he found in them. He nodded once and walked away. Rick stood there, struck dumb, staring mindlessly at Daryl’s ass. Tonight. Tonight he’d finally get to touch it. Rick adjusted himself in his pants. How the fuck was he going to make it through the day, waiting on a promise like that?


Quite miserably, as it turned out. Rick made it through, but only barely. The day moved by at a snail’s crawl. Rick had to spend most of it avoiding Daryl because one look at him, and Rick’s brain would power down. He couldn’t get anything done like that. So, he stayed busy, kept his head down, and moved onto another task somewhere else whenever Daryl walked into the vicinity. Thankfully, it seemed like Daryl, for the most part, tried to do the same. They didn’t make eye contact once. 

Rick tried very hard not to think about their plans that night. There really wasn’t anything to think about, after all. Rick knew what to do. He’d done it to himself, had it done to him, so he knew the techniques necessary to make it good for Daryl.

He knew that if he started thinking about it, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He’d work himself up into a tizzy with all the pointless mental planning. No, it’d be better to let instinct guide him. So, all day he fought to empty his mind of what awaited him that night. It was an impossible task. 

Rick sat through dinner with a bouncing leg and a half-hard dick. He focused his eyes on his plate, but his stomach had twisted itself knots, and he couldn’t eat much. Daryl sat beside him. Rick could feel the heat of his body, which only made his dick situation worse. But they didn’t speak. They didn’t look at each other. Daryl was off in his own head, staring at his own, equally untouched plate. 

Finally, after a polite amount of time had passed, Daryl stood. He passed his leftovers off to one of the kids. Then he clapped Rick on the shoulder. “M’showerin’,” he said. “See you after?” Rick bobbed his head. Daryl clapped his shoulder again. He left his hand there for a second too long, like he was going to say something more. But he must have decided against it, because then he dropped his hand and walked away.

Rick sat there for another ten minutes before he passed his leftovers off and headed to the room. On the way, he looked at his hands, and his long, slender fingers, and thought about where they’d be in a few minutes. His fingers trembled.


Rick had been pacing the floors when Daryl walked in. Daryl had put his clothes back on to make the trip back to the room, but he looked shower-fresh. His hair hung in wet clumps in his eyes and he smelled like bar soap. Rick smiled. 

“Hey,” Daryl said.

Rick crossed the room. He raked his fingers through Daryl’s hair to pull it up out of his eyes. 

“Hey,” he said.

Daryl cupped Rick’s jaw and pressed their lips together. They kissed each other, slow and sensual. Their rolling tongues moved languidly. Rick's breathing turned deep and even. All his nerves from earlier melted away. What was he ever worried about? This was them. Rick and Daryl, Daryl and Rick. He didn’t have anything to be afraid of. 

“I love you,” he said against Daryl’s lips. Because he could. Because he felt it flowering in his chest.

“Love you too,” Daryl said back. No hesitation, his voice light as air. 

“You sure about this?” 

Daryl nodded. He started on the buttons of Rick’s shirt. Rick’s heart leapt into his throat. 

“Hold on,” he said. He grabbed Daryl’s hands to halt his work. Daryl froze, and blinked at him. Rick took a deep breath. “What are my rules?” Rick asked. 

Daryl’s face flushed and he dropped his eyes. Rick pulled Daryl in by the small of his back. He waited patiently for Daryl's answer.

Finally, Daryl said, “One. That’s it.”

“Okay. One,” Rick said. His hands inched down Daryl’s back. His fingertips came to rest at the top of Daryl’s ass. “Does that mean…I can touch it?”

Daryl snorted. “Don’t know how else yer meant ta do it.”

“And you’ll tell me if you wanna stop?”


“And you’re sure?”

“You tryin’ to talk me outta it, Grimes?”

“No! No,” he said. He pressed his forehead against Daryl’s. His wet hair stuck against Rick’s skin. “No. I wanna take care of you.”

Daryl sucked in a shaky breath. Rick chased it with a kiss. Daryl picked up with Rick’s shirt buttons. Rick started on Daryl’s. They stripped each other bare, and went on kissing all the way through it. By the time they were naked and pressed up against one another, skin to skin, they both had hard cocks and their kiss had become needy, careless, and saturated with spit. 

Daryl had his hands on Rick’s hair, his neck, down his chest—always migrating somewhere new. Rick kept his hands firmly planted on the small of Daryl’s back, his fingers resting lightly at the very top of his ass. His fingers twitched, itching to ease down lower, but Rick didn’t. He knew he had permission in theory, but after being trained for so long to never wander too close to Daryl’s ass, he felt nervous about doing it. 

Thankfully, Daryl noticed his hesitation. 

“Touch it,” Daryl said in Rick’s ear. He arched his back. 

Rick took a deep breath through his nose. Then, slowly, he skirted his trembling fingers down the gentle slope of Daryl’s ass. 

Daryl carried on without a problem. He kissed his way down Rick’s neck, like he couldn’t feel Rick’s fingers at all. His keen sucking on Rick’s throat encouraged Rick forward. He pressed his hands flat, and then he was cupping Daryl’s ass. 

“Mhm,” Daryl said against his neck, to let Rick know he was doing just fine. 

So, Rick took another gamble. He squeezed. 

Daryl jumped, and his mouth jerked off of Rick’s neck with a pop, but then he looked at Rick with startling passion, and Rick decided that Daryl definitely liked the squeezing. He tried it again. Daryl backed Rick into the wall.

Rick moaned when his heated skin hit cool wall. They kissed messily. Daryl leaned against him to pin him to the wall and rocked his hips. Rick gasped at the sensation of Daryl’s body rolling over his hardened length. 

“Ohhh, god,” Rick said. He dropped his head onto Daryl’s shoulder. 

Rick guided Daryl’s movements by pulling him in by the ass. It was delicious. With Rick adding the additional force behind each thrust, they achieved the perfect friction.

“’S’good. S’good,” Daryl said.

“Yeah. Real good.” Rick pushed a kiss against Daryl’s cheek. “Love touching you like this,” he said.

Daryl made a sound in his throat—high pitched and desperate. It stirred something up inside Rick, and he flooded with arousal. Rick picked up the speed and pressure of their grinding hips. 

“You like my hands on your ass, Daryl?” Rick asked. He squeezed roughly and Daryl gasped. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he buried his face in Rick’s neck and breathed heavily. Daryl’s skin was furnace-hot.

“You’ll like it when I get inside even more,” Rick said.

Daryl groaned.

“It’s gonna feel so good, Daryl. You’re gonna love having me inside you.”

Rick pulled him in on an exceptionally hard thrust, and Daryl moaned. “Stop. Gonna come,” he said. Rick stilled their thrusting. He walked Daryl backwards, until they hit the bed.

“How do you wanna do this?” Rick asked. “On your back?”

Daryl licked his lips. He glanced at the bed, then eyed Rick wearily. 

Daryl climbed onto the bed and sat on all fours, ass on display. Rick’s heart beat furiously. It drowned out everything else and made his body heat all over. Daryl glanced at Rick over his shoulder. He blushed all over when he saw Rick’s face. Daryl groaned his embarrassment, and buried his face in his arms. His back arched beautifully.

“Don’t gotta look at me like that,” Daryl said. The mattress muffled his words. 

“You look good.”

Daryl groaned again and Rick laughed. He rubbed a reassuring hand over Daryl’s back. The first hint of contact made Daryl jump, but he relaxed once he realized Rick’s intention. 

“It’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you,” said Rick. 

Rick grabbed the lube from the nightstand. He climbed onto the bed behind Daryl. It was difficult to keep his breathing steady with the vision laid out before him. Daryl kept his head down and his ass up. ‘Good,’ couldn’t even begin to describe how Daryl looked. Rick didn’t have the words for it. It made Rick’s insides flutter and his heart pound and his palms sweat. 

“You just gon sit there starin’?” Daryl said.

“N-no.” Rick scrambled to uncap the lube. He poured it over his pointer finger. His eyes flicked up to Daryl. He sat unsettlingly still. Was he even breathing?

“Hey,” Rick said. He put his dry hand on Daryl’s outer thigh. Daryl jumped at the touch. Rick frowned. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. Daryl… We don’t have to do this. I don’t want to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.” 

Daryl tensed up. “I wanna,” he snapped.

“You’re nervous.”

“‘Course I’m nervous! Never done this shit ‘fore. Stop worryin’ and jus’ get it over with.”

Rick’s frown deepened. “Why do you wanna do this?”

Daryl sighed, irritated. He looked over his shoulder. “I wanna do it ‘cause I’m sick of not knowin’. I ain’t scared of shit. I won’t be scared of this. Not anymore. So, I gotta try it.”

Rick didn’t say anything. Daryl studied his face.

Daryl said, “Stop worryin’. I want it. I trust ya. We wouldn’t be here right now if it was any different.” Daryl buried his face back in his arms and pushed his waiting ass out towards Rick. “Go on,” he mumbled.

Rick’s hesitance disappeared. Daryl wanted to face his fears, and he trusted Rick enough to do it with him. It was an honor. One that Rick wouldn’t allow to be wasted on him. He’d do it right. He could be what Daryl needs. Attentive. Careful. Confident. 

Rick put on his leader voice—the one he’d learned back before, working as a sheriff. The one he used these days when he spoke to his people, or challenged his enemies. It was a certain inflection he took on that communicated authority, power, and honesty. He rarely used his leader voice with Daryl. He didn’t need to. And most times, it felt false to use it when talking to him, anyway. But if there was ever a time he needed to, it was now. Daryl had to know that he was in good hands. That Rick would take care of everything. 

“Okay,” Rick said. He ran his open hand down Daryl’s back. “Stay arched for me, alright? Just like you are. I’m gonna go slow. One finger. If anything hurts, you let me know. If you need me to stop, you say ‘stop.’ You understand?”

Daryl nodded, his face pressed against the mattress. 

“What are you gonna say?”


“That’s right.”

He rubbed circles on Daryl’s back. He put a bit of pressure behind his movements, hoping to ease some of the tension out of Daryl’s muscles. It seemed to do the trick. Daryl sighed contentedly and sunk deeper into the bed. 

Rick said, “It’s not gonna hurt. It’ll feel real good. If you want me to do anything different, tell me. I’m gonna say what I’m plannin’ on doin’ before I do it, okay? You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me surprisin’ you with anything.”

Daryl nodded.

“Alright. I’m gonna jerk you off a little.”

Daryl grunted his approval.

Rick poured a thick coating of lube over his palm. Then he reached around and grabbed Daryl’s cock. Daryl gasped at the contact. Rick set an even pace. 

Daryl’s dick was harder than Rick expected. Rick’s own cock was hard enough to hurt, but that was because he had Daryl laid out in front of him, awaiting Rick’s finger, and how the hell could he be anything but rock hard, looking at something like that? Rick thought for sure that Daryl’s nerves would have flagged his arousal, but they hadn’t. 

Rick started with a quick pace, but only a minute later, Daryl’s breathing dipped lower and Rick knew he’d come if Rick kept it up. So, he slowed his hand to a lazy stroke and let Daryl unsuccessfully chase after more with his bucking hips. 

“Rick?” Daryl said, his voice pitched unusually high.


Daryl didn’t say anything. Just whimpered and held his ass higher. 

“Okay. I’ve got you. Can you keep going for me?”

Daryl shifted his weight onto one arm. He replaced Rick’s hand with his own. His hand moved a good deal faster than Rick's had. He grunted through the motions. 

Rick settled back on his knees and looked at Daryl. Rick stroked down his own length a few times—a momentary indulgence he had to permit himself. He bit back his moan.

“Okay,” Rick said. “I’m gonna spread you open now.”

Daryl breathed in hard. “Yeah,” he said. 

Daryl’s voice caused something wild to spring to life inside Rick. His cock twitched excitedly. He did it without hesitation. Rick put his hands on Daryl’s ass, pulled him open, and stared at that impeccable pucker. 

Rick breathed in sharp. It was perfect. “Can I touch it?” he whispered.

“Okay—yeah—yeah,” Daryl said.

Daryl sounded ready. Hell, it sounded like he wanted it bad. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to end up on all fours, ass spread in front of Rick. So, Rick leaned in and touched Daryl’s hole—with his tongue. 

Daryl gasped loud. He bucked, but Rick held him steady.

Rick pulled back. “I’m gonna lick it,” he told Daryl. Then, he dove back in. Rick licked in broad stripes between Daryl’s cheeks. 

Daryl groaned. His pumping hand stopped, and he started rocking his hips back and forth between his clenched fist and Rick’s exploratory tongue.

“You—fuckin’—crazy?” Daryl asked between gasping breaths. His tone sounded exasperated, but his desperate panting and rolling hips gave him away.

Rick didn’t answer him. His mouth was currently occupied. He ran his tongue up and down Daryl’s center. Occasionally, he caught the rim of Daryl’s twitching hole, but he didn’t push his tongue in. That would require another notification for Daryl, and Rick couldn’t bring himself to pull his face out of luscious heat of Daryl’s ass. 

Rick mouthed at the fragile skin. He licked and licked, until Daryl’s entire ass was sticky with his spit. He kept going until his face cheeks were sticky with it, too. Daryl fell apart underneath him. First, he had to get used to the new sensation. But once he gave himself over to it, he lost himself to the pleasure. It wasn’t long before he was quivering all over and moaning into the mattress.

“Fuck, Rick.” Daryl whined helplessly. “Rick. Rick. I want it.”

Rick pulled back, breathing heavily. “Want what?” he asked.

“The finger. I want it.”

Rick’s heart went double time. He scrambled for the bottle. He recoated his finger with a thick layer of slick and lined it up with Daryl’s hole. 

“Okay?” he asked. He pushed his fingertip against it.

“Fuck,” Daryl said. 

Rick traced small circles over the hole. “Tell me when.”

Do it.”

Rick pressed his fingertip in; he stopped at the first knuckle. Daryl’s tight heat enveloped him. It clenched hard around Rick’s finger. A pained grunt squeezed itself out of Daryl’s throat. 

“Did I hurt you?”

Daryl breathed heavily. “No—no. Just—” He swallowed. “Feels weird.”

“Just gotta relax. It’s okay.”

Rick didn’t move his finger. He held it as still as possible and rubbed the small of Daryl’s back. He waited for his ass to relax around him. Daryl shook and breathed raggedly, but eventually, his body adjusted and the muscle softened around Rick’s touch. 

“Okay,” Daryl said. 

Rick slid in to the next knuckle. Then, since he received a pleasant moan from Daryl, he pushed in the rest of the way. They both gasped when Rick’s finger bottomed out. 

Rick paused for a moment. They sat there, trembling together. Rick’s finger was completely buried inside Daryl’s body. Daryl’s hole clenched and unclenched around Rick as he adjusted to being filled. 

“How’s that?” Rick said softly.

Daryl shuddered. “It’s—it’s good.”



“Do you want me to move?”

Daryl pushed back against Rick’s hand. “Yeah.”

Rick made a sound in his throat. His cock hurt from how turned on he was. He could hardly stand it. Slowly, he eased his finger out of Daryl, almost all the way. Then, even slower, he pushed it back in. He watched himself disappear into Daryl’s tightness. The sight of it made him dizzy with desire. He pulled out and did it again. And again. He kept going. 

“Fuck, Daryl. You’re doin’ so great. Takin’ it so well.”

Daryl groaned. He started rocking his hips to meet Rick’s gentle thrusts. 

“It feel okay?” Rick asked.

Daryl nodded, up and down, his face buried in his arms. 

“You’re so goddamn hot,” Rick said. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Daryl breathing picked up. He rocked back on Rick’s finger faster. He let out strangled little moans every now and then. He tried to choke them out, but Rick’s ears honed in on Daryl’s every sound. They fed directly into his arousal. 

“Tell me what you want, Daryl.” 

Every breath came out heavy. Daryl had to fight through it to find his voice. “Faster,” he said. It was barely more than a whisper.


Rick set a new pace. He fucked in and out of Daryl’s ass, hard and fast, with a single, straight finger. The smack of skin on skin could be heard with every inward stroke. The new pace initiated a change in Daryl. He’d tensed up and gone completely still, just taking Rick’s finger as it fucked into him. His legs trembled mercilessly. Barely contained moans rumbled in his chest. Rick continued on that way, with the single-minded purpose of finger fucking Daryl senseless. He could barely hear Daryl’s sounds over his own irregular breathing. But he heard Daryl’s moans climb in pitch, until they sounded more like whimpers.

“Stop.” The word cut through everything else. Rick stopped dead, pulled his finger out, and sat back on his knees.

“Gotta flip over,” said Daryl.

Daryl rolled onto his back. He blinked up at Rick. Daryl skin had flushed red all over, but on his face most of all. His chest rose and fell erratically. His pupils had blown wide. He looked wrecked—and Rick knew he looked the exact damn same way. 

Daryl started stroking his lube-shined, painfully-hard cock. He rolled his hips into the movement and watched Rick watching him. Daryl bit his lip. Then, he spread his legs. Rick breathed in hard.

Rick assumed the position. He sat between Daryl’s legs, criss cross, one hand on Daryl’s knee. He slipped his finger between Daryl’s cheeks and pressed the tip against his hole.

“Okay?” Rick asked.

“Yeah…” Daryl said. He spread his legs wider, shifted his hips up a bit. “Fuck me, Rick.”

Lord. Rick moaned low in his throat. His cock twitched. Rick gave it a pity stroke to try and get it to shut up.

Daryl watched him with narrowed eyes and a fiendish smirk. “You like that?” he asked.

Rick was too far gone to be embarrassed. He nodded. “I’m so fucking hard.”

Daryl smiled wide. He pulled up his length, tight and slow, to draw Rick’s attention to it, and to showcase its hardness. “Me too,” Daryl said. “I guess I like having ya inside me.”

Rick laughed breathily. He slipped his finger halfway in. 

Daryl arched his back. “Yeah, Rick. Like that.” He worked his hips against Rick’s hand. Rick slipped his finger in the rest of the way, and Daryl moaned. “Fuck me. Please.”

Rick breathed in sharp. Jesus fucking christ. No wonder Daryl liked that word so goddamn much. Please. It set Rick’s whole body aflame. He wanted nothing more than to oblige Daryl’s every request.

Rick crooked his finger. He searched the inside of Daryl’s walls until he found it—the spot. He knew he’d hit it because Daryl gasped, and his hand went still on his cock. 

Rick,” he said, sounding slightly panicked. 

Rick rubbed the spot in a tight little circle. Daryl gasped and arched off the bed. 


Rick fucked his bent finger against the spot. He moved at a brutal pace. And Daryl fell apart.

“Ohhh—Fuu—uuuu—uuck,” Daryl said. His hand flew over his cock. His legs shook. His eyes rolled back and his lids fluttered closed and he pressed his head back against the mattress. It lasted almost no time at all. Half a minute, maybe, of Rick’s finger working over Daryl’s prostate, and he was twitching with his coming orgasm.

“Rick! Oh, fuck, Rick. Don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop!”

Rick had never heard Daryl cry out like that. It awakened something animalistic inside of Rick. He growled in his throat. He grabbed Daryl by the leg and folded him in half, the same way Daryl did so often for Rick. Rick loved it. So it would only make sense that Daryl would love it, too. 

Oof,” Daryl said when Rick’s weight landed against him. His eyes flew open. “Ohhh, shit. Shit. Shit. I’m gonna—” Rick captured him in a kiss, and Daryl whimpered in his throat, now that his mouth was sealed shut by Rick’s lips and tongue. Daryl bucked and twitched and shook. Rick fucked him through it all.

Then Daryl arched high off the bed. His sounds strangled off entirely. His body stilled, all except for his hips, which spasmed wildly. Rick could feel the orgasm coursing through Daryl as his hole clenched tight around his finger, again and again. 

When it was over, Daryl fell boneless underneath Rick with a heavy, contented sigh. Rick eased Daryl leg back down onto the bed. He pulled his finger out carefully. Then, Rick sat back on his knees, between Daryl’s spread legs, and jerked himself off. It only took a few fast strokes before he came with a gasp and a full body shudder. Daryl watched him with slitted eyes as Rick shot hot lines over Daryl’s stomach, alongside the mess from Daryl’s orgasm. By the time Rick worked through the last of it, Daryl was absolutely covered in the sticky—two full loads painted across his torso.

Rick sighed and collapsed on top of him. The come squished between their sweaty bodies. Rick scrunched his nose up and laughed. 

“You’re gonna have to shower again,” Rick said.

Daryl laughed. “Two showers in one day? Hell nah. Yer lucky I took the one.”

“I’m gonna have to take one, too. We can do it together.”

Daryl ran his fingers through Rick’s hair. “Okay,” he said. “In a lil bit.”

They fell quiet. Nothing but steading breaths and the soft sound of Daryl’s fingers scraping gently across Rick’s scalp. 

Things were different now. Rick could feel it. Daryl’s aura had relaxed. Rick hadn’t even realized it, but all the time that Rick had known him, Daryl had carried with him an undercurrent of tension. He had walls up. But now, this new Daryl, laying under Rick? He was well-fucked, come-covered, and completely at ease with it. The last of his walls had fallen away. Nothing stood between them now. Daryl had no reservations. No worries. No doubts. Just boundless respect, love, and trust. And it went both ways. Every ounce of positive energy Daryl poured wordlessly into Rick, Rick reciprocated. They’d entered into new territory. It was a big open field, bright with sunshine and wildflowers. They had all the room in the world. 

Rick felt relaxed enough to sleep. Daryl’s warm body and soft stroking hands coaxed him towards it. Daryl’s breathing had slowed down too, like he was on his way to sleep right alongside Rick. Minutes passed by that way. Just as Rick was about to be pulled under, Daryl said, serene and sleepy, on the same breath as a contented sigh, “M’gay.”

Rick smiled. He nestled his cheek against Daryl’s chest. “Mhm,” he said.

“Always been. Shoulda known.”

Rick kissed his chest. “S’okay.”

“Yeah. S’okay.”

Then they went quiet again, and Rick almost fell asleep for a second time. Just before he lost himself to it, Daryl breathed in deep and stirred. “Next time,” he said, “I wanna try two.”

Rick chuckled softly. “Sure, honey. Whatever you want.”

Rick didn’t look, but he could tell that Daryl was smiling. Rick was smiling, too.

They fell asleep that way.