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Show me your teeth

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The sun has almost completely set when Rick wandered up to the guard tower. He had a feeling he screwed up epically, especially with how Daryl wasn't really talking to him during the day. The leader just knew that something was very wrong and that he was the cause. He also had a pretty good idea of what that was... Swallowing nervously, Rick told himself to man up as he opened the door at the top of the tower and peeked inside.


There stood Daryl, back leaning against the wall, gaze focused on the forest. He didn't even look at the other man as he approached, closing the door behind him. Rick hated quiet days, even though this was their first one to be honest. Before, in the old world, Lori would often pull that card against him, at first every time he did something wrong, later whenever she felt like it. He always felt a bit more broken inside after every day like this, especially in the later period, when he just felt like a kicked puppy. A little late at home? Silence. Wrong food at dinner? Silence. Wrong movie? Silence. Lori had a headache? Silence. Rick hated those. So as soon as he noticed his best friend, his right hand man acting like that, he had to do something.


It just took an awful lot of courage to admit that he screwed up and had to make amends for this. And so, here he stood, hours after they came back from a run, one that had too many too close calls. Daryl seemed to be upset about it even more than Rick, but the hunter wasn't Rick's ex-wife. He was his friend, so instead of yelling at their leader or acting all scared and wide-eyed, he gruffed, called Rick a dumbass in his deep southern drawl and walked off in silence.


“Whadda ya want?” That same drawl greeted Rick now and the leader took a few more steps to the other man, trying not to get too close to the other, obviously still angry man.

“I want to talk” he offered, not really content with the way Daryl was decidedly not looking at him. The hunter huffed but stayed silent and so Rick pressed.


“Daryl, tell me what did I do?” He asked, voice serious but low. “I did something to upset you and you aren't even talking to me, and I need to know why?” He added desperately, too stressed to see the gentle shift that happened in the hunter's stance.

“Why?” Daryl looked at him finally, scowling like if Rick really was stupid. The leader blinked at the harsh gaze directed at him.

“Yeah, why do you treat me like some kind of a grumpy wife, Daryl?” That got him a reaction, although it was one that was not something he wanted. The hunter scowled at him even harder, before the words registered in his brain and he scoffed and looked away, practically turning his back to Rick. The man blinked in disbelief and cursed himself internally for screwing it up even more.


“Daryl, pl...” he didn't get to finish the sentence as the hunter was suddenly only about an inch away from him, seething in rage, eyes squinting with his anger.
“The fuck were ya thinkin'?” He growled shoving Rick's shoulder, making him stumble back a step. God the man had some strength on him. He got even closer, crowding Rick against the wall, and the leader found himself at a loss of words.


“Ya think ya so invincible, Grimes? Ya think nothin' will getcha?”
“Daryl, we've had close calls before!” He said in a surprisingly shaky voice. What the hell? Why is my voice shaking? But Rick knew why, because the hunter was one hell of a handsome man and his quiet fury made Rick want to drop to his knees and... well. He didn't have too much time to consider this particular train of thoughts as he found himself pressed against the wall behind him, Daryl's strong hands fisting in the collar of his shirt keeping him in place.

“Not close enough fo' bruises, ya dick!” Daryl seethed, using one hand to tug the collar of Rick's shirt to the side revealing a deep purple bruise that formed there after a walker bit into the collar of the other man's jacket. The hunter has never in his whole life been more grateful for leather and fur combination. It was durable enough to hold the teeth at bay for a bit, making Rick relatively safe until Daryl got to him and smashed the walker's head with his bare hands. The sheriff could feel the panicked and frantic hands on him. They tugged the jacket off enough to make sure that the skin was intact, before he called Rick a dumbass and walked away, silent and kicking everything that came within a two yards radius.


And now here he was, staring hard at Rick's bruise, jaw set and fists clenching even more. Rick swallowed, feeling the fury and coiled strength radiation off of the hunter.
“I'm fine, Daryl” he tried, but the hunter looked like he was in some kind of a trance, still looking at his shoulder. “Daryl, hey, I'm fine, you're fine, we're alive” Rick tried to make his voice as steady as possible. “We've been through worse. Why are you so angry about this?”


Daryl huffed, releasing his hold and turning away, he walked two steps away and stopped. Rick waited, licking his suddenly dry lips, watching the other man. And then abruptly Daryl turned back to him, closed the distance between them and crushed Rick between his body and the wall behind him. Rick squeaked in surprise, his brain grinding to a halt when he felt Daryl's soft lips touching his own. The hunter pressed into him harder, one hand traveling to Rick's hair and grabbing it, keeping him in place, the other landing on the bruise, just where the neck met the shoulder, squeezing and making Rick gasp out in pain.


And then Daryl's tongue was pushing inside his mouth and Rick had to close his eyes in pleasure, kissing him back, feeling the hand in his hair tip his head back. The hunter broke the kiss for air, mouth landing on Rick's exposed neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave bruises. The other man groaned, hips bucking up into Daryl's hard body and he could do nothing to stop it. Not that he wanted to....


He moaned when the hand in his hair disappeared and suddenly he found himself stumbling forward, Daryl's solid weight not keeping him up anymore. He blinked his eyes open in confusion to see the archer standing before him, a look of horror on his face. Rick bit down a laugh at the scared expression, knowing that Daryl was probably beating himself up for what he just did. God, if he only knew how many quiet night fantasies in Rick's cell starred him bossing the leader around like that.


Rick managed to keep a straight face and in one slow motion sank down to his knees. He watched in delight how Daryl's eyes widened at the sight and grabbed the other man's belt, tugging him closer by it. Once Daryl stepped close enough, Rick opened the belt and slid it from his cargo pants, throwing it to the ground. He opened the man's zipper and leaned forward, moaning at the heady masculine scent he found there. Rick pressed his lips to Daryl's already hard member and started to mouth at it through his boxers all the while looking up at the hunter. The sharp intake of breath and a shuddery exhale was all he needed to know he was on a good track. He tugged the waistband of the boxers down, licking his lips when he finally looked at the sight before him.


Daryl was big, bigger than whatever he's had in his mouth back in the times he was still free and experimenting with dudes from his block. Rick licked his lips again, mouth watering at the sight and a thought sprang into his mind – I want that. So he dove in, running his tongue around the head first to get a good taste, before he hummed thoughtfully and took Daryl inside his mouth, going as far as he could and wrapping his palm around the rest of his length.


The archer moaned above him, hands flying to Rick's hair and fisting there. He didn't tug or pull, he just let them rest on his head, almost as if he was afraid the leader would disappear any second. Rick had no such intentions in mind as he worked on Daryl, eyes closed and lips stretched perfectly around the heavy length in his mouth. He could feel the hunter trying not to thrust his hips up, but even though his iron self-control was admirable, his body moved on its own accord like he couldn't help himself. One particular thrust brought him to the back of Rick's throat and before Daryl could even start murmuring apologies, the sheriff moaned a little happy sound and tried to take him in even deeper.


The hunter couldn't really believe what was happening. Rick was like an algae eater he used to have in a little fish tank before the world went to shit. The creature was just as set on sucking on every hard surface with the determination of a starving man. Daryl moaned, back arching on a particularly delicious suck and oh fuck what was this man even doing with his tongue? And then the archer made a big mistake of looking down and actually seeing himself moving in and out of those kissable and fuckable lips, seeing Rick's eyes closed in delight as he moaned around him, and holy shit those eyes opened and looked at him and Daryl was just done.


He tried to tug Rick's head off him, tried to move him away, tried to do anything to let the man know how close he was. But that fucker only hummed in agreement and took him in deeper, and Daryl could do nothing else but growl out his name and let the pleasure wash over him. Rick felt his body go rigid as a board before the bitter-sweet taste poured into his mouth. He swallowed everything, happily listening to the bitten off groans and moans above him, and carried on with light sucks and strokes through Daryl's orgasm. He was hard and throbbing in his own pants, but it could wait for a second more, the view before him too delicious not to feast his eyes on it.


The archer was breathing heavily, his body still shuddering with aftershocks when he pulled off, licking his lips and smiling at him.
“You worry too much about me, Daryl” he said loud enough for the other man to hear. Daryl's eyes snapped open and he looked down at him with his piercing eyes. And then, before Rick had time to do anything really, he found himself on his back on the floor, the archer's solid body pressing him down and keeping him in place, while Daryl chased the taste of himself in Rick's mouth.

The leader growled, hips bucking helplessly in the air, a low groan escaping his lips just to be swallowed by Daryl. Rick felt two strong hands tugging at his belt and lowering the zipper down, before one of them sneaked in and wrapped around his throbbing length. He threw his head back with a curse, his own hands scrambling for purchase on Daryl's shoulders. He moaned when suddenly the cool air hit his skin and looked down to where the archer was working his trousers and boxers down to his thighs. And then Daryl smiled like a cat that finally got the canary and lowered his head to lick at him, from root to tip, and fuck it shouldn't feel so good. That little pink tongue circling the head before it wriggled into the slit at the tip and Christ, Rick almost saw stars right there and then.


But Daryl pulled away from his cock, licked a broad stripe all the way from Rick's navel to his neck and settled himself half on top of the other man, one thigh between Rick's legs, propping himself with a hand next to his head. Rick wanted to lean up to kiss him, but as soon as he opened his mouth two of Daryl's unoccupied fingers appeared between his lips and he closed them, sucking on the digits. The noises he made right then were filthy, and he knew it well, watching in delight as Daryl's eyelids fluttered and a breathy 'fuck!' escaped him. And then the fingers disappeared and Daryl's hot mouth was on his and he thought he was in heaven, but then the slippery digits appeared somewhere else and damn it he had no choice but to arch his back and moan like a cheap whore.


“Jesus fuck, Daryl!” He almost shouted, when the archer pushed pushed both fingers into him, slowly but with unrelenting pressure, and soon they were buried inside him, stretching him wide. It burned, but it was also so delicious, and the stretch was just ideal, and Rick couldn't help himself and started to move his hips a bit. The hunter growled straight into his ear and started to move his fingers in and out of him, his spent cock giving a valiant twitch at the tightness he felt clenching around his digits. It was obscene, and the sight of Rick, writhing around him, moaning and whining was just plain filthy. He licked his lips in anticipation and crooked them searching for that one spot, and Rick actually fucking mewled and started babbling incoherently, tossing his head from side to side on the hard floor.


Daryl watched in awe as he trashed around, a litany of “please, Daryl, fuck, please” falling from his lips interlaced with the most beautiful sounds the archer has ever heard. He finally took pity on the begging man and lowered his mouth to his ear.

“Touch yerself, baby” he rasped, speeding up his movements, seeing with his peripheral vision as one of Rick's hands unclenched from his jacket and traveled down between them. He grabbed his leaking cock, squeezing it tightly for a second, before he started to stroke it in time with Daryl's fingers.


“Fuck, Daryl...” he groaned his other hand still fisted in the hunter's jacket. And suddenly Daryl wanted nothing more than to see this man fall apart, to see the bliss and pleasure written all over him and be the cause of this event.

“Jesus, ya have any idea how hot ya are now, Rick? Ya look like a twen'y dollar whore, all moanin' and whinin' on my fingers... I could just keep ya like this, huh?” He asked, licking the ear and applying even more pressure to Rick's sweet spot. It worked, the man underneath him going tense in anticipation of the release.


“Daryl, fuck, please...” The archer was sure he didn't even know what he was asking for, the brain stuck on the pleasure coursing through him.

“Ya want to come so badly, Rick? Do it. Make a mess, come on” he growled harshly and with one last lick and bite to his ear, Rick came all over himself. He kept stroking for a bit more, body trembling and muscles clenching, enjoying Daryl's fingers still moving in him, drawing the orgasm from his body. Soon it was too much and he let go of his spent length, but clenched his teeth when the movement inside didn't cease.


He opened his eyes wide, both hands clenching on Daryl's shoulders and jaws clenching on a whine.
“Dare!” He wheezed, trying to squirm away from the fingers, but the hunter held on. He kept moving them at a slow pace, not pressing enough to be very painful, but just enough to make Rick squirm and try to shift away.

“What the... Dare... Fuck!” The leader gritted out, body shuddering with the onslaught of sensations provoked by the clever fingers milking him. And then he heard a low and dangerous growl followed by that deep southern drawl he came to love.

“This...” Daryl pressed a bit harder on his oversensitive prostate making his breath hitch and his spent dick jump, “this is mine, and don't ya fuckin' dare to hurt yerself, got that?” Daryl asked, pausing his fingers' relentless movements. Rick breathed in and out, relaxing, before he yelped as the fingers pressed again.
“Yes! Fuck! Yes, I got that! Shit, Daryl...” But the archer seemed to be satisfied with the answer as the fingers left his ass and he was turned to his side and pulled into a fierce hug. He huffed out a laugh, latching onto the hunter with all the strength left in him.

Who would have thought the big bad wolf liked to cuddle, huh?