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Breathe

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“Dumbass. Come ‘ere dumbass!”

The twang of the bow tears through the air like a bullet.

“Daryl!” She calls desperately, his erratic behaviour frightening her.

“You wanna shoot?” He growls.

“I-I... I don’t know how!” She gasps breathlessly as he violently hooks his forearm into her shoulder.

“Aw, s'easy, come ‘ere!” He bodily drags her stumbling back into his chest, her tired muscles fitting perversely perfectly into his. “Right corner!”

She fights to catch her breath as he throws her away as easily as he scooped her up, releasing another bolt into the pinned walker.

"Let’s practice later!” Is the only thing she manages to say, whirling to face him as he reloads the crossbow.

“C'mon, s'fun,” he grunts.

God she’s so sick, because all she can think about is the rough quality of his voice slipping over her skin like oil, and watch the bunch of his muscles as he pulls the string up towards his chest.

“Just stop it! Daryl!” She screams, at a loss for words in the face of his tornado of emotion.

His thick hand lands on her arm, meaty and sweaty and hot. He spins her and grips her shoulders in a solid pin once more, his hand travelling from her arm to her collar bones, every single one of his rough fingers burning her skin.

“C'mere,” he growls in her ear, his hips pressing into her ass.

She struggles at his hold and the feelings in her belly being pressed against him like this. He growls something but she doesn’t hear, her wild eyes locked on the walker squirming against the tree.

“Just kill it!” Her voice is hoarse and it isn’t all from shouting as he lets her go.

Beth spins to face him and shoves him hard. He stumbles, dropping the bow and then down onto his ass. She expects him to shout and curse, but he’s laughing. Maniacally with an edge of insane on the end of it. The panic swallows her and she falls over him, covering his body with hers.

“Breathe,” she whispers over his crazy laughter that makes something hard and cold settle in her belly. “I’m here. Breathe.”

His laughter subsides into the hollow of her throat as she cradles his head. There’s just shaky breathing now, ghosting over her skin like a physical touch. She shudders and keeps whispering it: just breathe. He does eventually and then his hands are there on his next exhale, cupping her hips.

They pull their faces away from each other, the first thing she notices being his hair, which is mussed and dirty. Their eyes meet second as she takes his face between her dirty hands, trying to push the sound of the walker growling out of her ears.

"S'not supposed to be fun,” she reminds him gently. “They were people once. Like my Daddy.”

“Beth,” he whispers brokenly. “S'different.”

“S'not,” she says as firmly as she can without setting him off again. “That’s bullshit an' you know it.”

Daryl cowers under her eyes and lets his face fall against her chest. It rocks her frame into a shudder when his breath ghosts down the front of her filthy polo. The shudder flows through her skin and into his, wracking his body. Beth breathes deep and slides her fingers through her hair.

"Breathe,” she mumbles again.

He does, breathing deep and even straight down her top, against her bare chest and breasts. Her nipples pebble and she blushes because they’re pressed against him. The minute he feels them he takes a shuddering breath through his nose and squeezes her hips, his fingers flexing.

Beth’s chest stutters as he lifts her head and she doesn’t know who started the descent first but they crash into each other like planets colliding. His teeth slice her lip and hers cut into his gums but that doesn’t stop them.

Teeth and tongue and biting, the fierceness of their kiss doesn't ebb into soft but rather swells with more tension, her hips rocking against his. He groans into her mouth and then her fingers are twisting in his hair, yanking to bring him closer. His taste is ravenous and the sparks between her legs addictive.

She doesn’t ever want it to stop, not the way he’s pawing at her ass and the edge of her top like he can’t decide whether to take it off or not, not his hungry mouth or his rolling hips. None of it. She doesn’t want any of it to stop ever but then the walker moans and she’s yanked back into reality.

Daryl keens as she pulls away, his eyes wide and dilated beyond human possibility. The de-shivered mess that he is makes something between her legs ignite and she whimpers. His eyes flare as he squeezes her waist, surely leaving bruises and stares at her mouth like he can’t wait to get back to it.

“We need to finish the job.”

Whether she’s referencing them or the walker she’s not sure at this point, her heart racing and every nerve alive but Daryl nods like he knows. They stand clumsily, Beth’s legs wobbly as she approaches the walker with her knife and ends it. When she turns back to Daryl he has his bow back and is waiting for her.

She approaches him, shy now and conscious of how hot her face is and probably looks. Her hands are shaking as they make their way back up the porch onto the deck. She doesn't want to go back inside to the decay and the moonshine, to the sadness in Daryl’s eyes when he’s in there.

So she stops on the top step and just waits. She doesn't understand what’s happening to them, where and when they decided to do this but whatever this is, she doesn’t want it to be inside, she doesn’t want it to be tainted.

Daryl is the outside. His voice is rough bark. His muscles roots of the trees. His eyes are the morning sky and his mouth the firm line of hard packed soil. He smells like forest and animal and wind, something free and wild. He should be out here where he’s at home, where it’s okay for him to just be him.

If she’s lucky, she’ll get to share that space with him, that intimacy. Daryl takes a seat against the post and she considers sitting opposite him but doesn’t want to. She’s never thought of them like this. Everything she feels for Daryl is so innocent and new, so pure in its unpredictability.

Beth’s never thought of them like this but she’s not willing to pass up chances or give herself cause for regrets. She takes her own seat in Daryl’s lap, settling into him as he takes a breath and then stops breathing altogether, his chest still against her own.

“Breathe,” she whispers against his lips.

The mood is soft and the night is still, her words quiet and touch gentle but Daryl cannot be tamed. He reacts in a blur of frenetic energy, his arms coiling around her desperately as his mouth claims hers. Her hands grip his shoulders as she finds a comfy place in his lap, rocking as she kisses him back.

He groans and a hand finds its way into her hair, cradling her skull as if protecting it from invisible projectiles while his other flattens her spine. Their bellies are pressed together, skin to skin where strips have been revealed by their bunched clothing. She’s only had sex twice before but God she’s never wanted to so bad.

Daryl’s rough hands and greedy mouth, his frenzied need is intoxicating and her thighs are shaking with her arousal. Sticky want dribbles between her legs, slicking her inner walls as she rolls her hips against the hardness nestled between his legs. He growls this time and twists his fingers in her hair.

Beth gasps as he yanks her head back, tearing his mouth from hers to press hot, sloppy kisses against her throat. Her hands fumble blindly at his vest, pushing and twisting to get it off his body. He helps her shrug it off and then pulls away to yank her own up.

Her bra gets tangled in there on the way and when he clears the fabric from her head she’s topless. A hot flush splashes against her chest and cheeks, heart beating so hard it echoes in her ears.

“Jesus, look'at ya,” his ruined voice whispers and she shivers.

Passionately, he attacks her breasts, sucking and biting, sweeping his tongue out to flick and tease over first one nipple and then the other. Beth moans as her chest heaves with crackling energy, sliding into her womb like jagged edges of lightening. Both hands reach for her jeans and she mimics him.

While he fumbles at her button she fumbles at his, her hand presses to his bare stomach revealed by his top for half a heart beat. It’s enough to make him stutter, his hips flexing and clipping her neatly between her swollen folds. She spasms and falls against his chest.

While she's as limp as a doll, he jerks on the back of her jeans, yanking them down to her knees. The taut fabric bites into her flesh, stinging harshly. Pushing up on his chest with her hands, she glances down as he pushes the front of his jeans open and pulls out his cock.

Her mouth floods with saliva as she takes in the weeping head and the smear of pre cum at the tip. He glances up at her through the strings of his hair and it’s the end of her sanity. Her cunt gives a desperate clutch and then she’s possessed. She takes his mouth violently and withers against his hot flesh.

Daryl growls in her mouth and fists himself, taking her hip with his free hand and helping to arrange her. She sinks down on him half way before the breath punches out of her, so tight and snug she’s lost the ability to think in more than one word sentences. Hot. Thick. Tight. Fuck.

His teeth bite down on her lip, jerking her back to the present and she pushes down, popping the last few inches of him inside. They knotch together and the feel of his thick thatch of pubic hair against her makes her blush so hot she feels her ears burn. A gust of cool wind brings her temperature down a feel degrees in the next instant and she remembers that they’re outside.

A small, young part of her is embarrassed and scared by this act of taboo but the new, fiercer part of her doesn’t care and rolls her hips in a slow, luxurious dance. The sound that comes of out his mouth and presses against her lips is unholy. Her cunt clutches and he chokes into stillness.

There’s a heartbeat of nothing and then he pounds her into silence. The jackrabbit pace of his hips is the end of her days of being able to think and she is nothing but sensations. His hard, thick cock slamming into her pussy, every vein stroking her slick walls, every thrust bringing her closer to the edge.

His mouth back on her throat pairs perfectly with his hands squeezing her bare ass, massaging and spreading as he fucks her. They’re making so much noise she knows she should be watching the treeline but for what she’s not sure because she’s not even sure of her own name anymore.

Everything is so deliciously, excruciatingly tight. Her cunt, her core, her spine. The skin around her exposed clit and her chest. Tight, tight, tight. Everything shrinking, everything growing smaller, swelling, God, so swollen, hugging him inside her, keeping him in.

Daryl’s voice is loud and drunk on sex, his words nothing but her name, over and over again. Beth, Beth, Beth. Her name in repeat, pressed into the hollow of her throat like a promise, like a secret. Ruined and broken and gorgeous and she can't. She can’t cope, she’s going to explode, she’s going to combust, she can’t survive.

It’s too much, it’s too good, it’s too sensitive. She doesn’t want it to stop and she wants it to be over all in one instant. She wants to curl in a ball and protect it in her belly, this feeling, this completely overwhelming feeling but she also wants to throw her arms wide and let it out and scream.

“Breathe,” Daryl gasps raggedly against her throat but she doesn’t.

She screams.

Two seconds in and Daryl is making a noise she wants to record and play over and over again with his cock shoved so deep inside her she doesn’t know where he begins and she ends. It unmakes her, unravels all the stitches holding her together and leaves the vulnerable core open.

The orgasm steals her sight and the world goes black as she slumps against him, her face buried in his neck and her hands clinging to him for dear life as he fucks her deep and hard. He groans out a gravelly string of curses mixed with her name as he slides out after his next thrust, spilling hot cum across her ass and spine.

His dick jerks and spasms as Daryl sobs against her chest, hips twitching. Beth’s still so lost inside herself, in the mess of her mind, lost in the aftermath of her skin being peeled from her bones that she says the first thing that comes into her head.

“You're gonna miss me so bad when I’m gone, Daryl Dixon.”