“How about...potato chips?” Beth asked, fiddling with her knife and a little piece of wood. “Have we done that yet?”
Daryl tossed another log on their fire, which they could afford to do here in this old barn. “Did snack foods a while back. Pick somethin’ else.”
She pursed her lips, eyes tipping up in that messy blond head of hers as she thought. “Um, shoe brands?”
That one made him scoff. “That’s gonna start and end at these boots.”
“You’re no fun,” Beth groused, though he knew she was only teasing.
A couple of minutes passed. Daryl stared into the flames of their fire and turned the rabbit on its spit, listened to the crackle of burning wood, the sizzle of dripping fat off a surprisingly plump rabbit, and the snick of Beth’s knife as she whittled something across the fire.
“Okay. I got one we haven’t done.”
Daryl looked up to find her looking very wide-eyed at him. “Spit it out then, girl.”
She blinked, very slowly, took a breath, and squared her shoulders like she was preparing to argue some important point. Instead of that, though, she offered just one word. “Sex.”
His turn to blink slowly now. “What?”
Beth shrugged, those dainty little shoulders of hers lifting up toward her ears and sinking back down. “We haven’t done that.”
He about choked on his tongue before she clarified.
“The game,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. “You know, the one where we come up with as many words as we can on the topic? Well, we haven’t done sex.”
He finally got his mouth working again as Beth stared at him expectantly. “What do you know about sex?”
Any other person in Beth’s position might get offended, but not Beth. Naw, she only laughed, a downright dirty-sounding one at that. “More than you think, Casanova.”
All right, so she had him there, right to the tips of his flaming ears. “I dunno...”
“Oh, come on, Daryl,” she said, switching from dirty to put-on whiny in the span of one pounding heartbeat. “Live a little.”
“Fine.” The heat in his ears spread down to his cheeks, and he was thankful for the shroud of darkness to hide in. “You go first, then, if you’re such an expert.”
It was Beth’s turn to flush—he could see it beating in her cheeks from here. But she squared her shoulders again and proceeded to open up a chasm in the floor just big enough to swallow him whole.
“Jimmy ate me out in the barn once.”
His first thought, before he fell through the floor, was just once? Then he came to his fucking senses and realized she was laughing at him, ‘cause that’s not how the game was supposed to go, it was supposed to be just words, which was bad enough, not a tick sheet of all the shit they’d done.
“Well, he tried to,” she continued, and would this dirt floor just hurry up and bury him already? “He couldn’t find my—”
She smirked like the devil and finished her sentence. “Clitoris.”
Oh fucking hell.
A delicate clearing of a deceptively dirty little throat, then, “it’s your turn.”
Fucking hell times two.
He glared at her through the flames, the ones from their fire and the ones in his face. It was entirely possible this little blonde woman smiling far too sweetly at him actually had more to say about this than he did—not a major feat, by any means, but an unexpected one. As unexpected as this game, which he should not be attempting to play, yet he found himself scouring his brain for something to throw back at her. Return the favour with a bit of shock value.
Ah. Well now that’d work.
“All right,” he said, meeting her expectant gaze and the challenge therein. “Riding a motorcycle, the way it vibrates, gets me so fucking hard.”
Beth’s eyes got very wide, and she let out a very soft little giggle. “You rode with my sister on that bike.”
Daryl snorted. “Yeah, well. Your sister ain’t got my cock in her sights, does she?”
Oh, that was well played. Beth’s mouth popped open and her eyes got even wider. But then she spoke and effectively stole back the lead. “Daryl. I think everyone has your cock in their sights.”
Back to choking on his tongue, except—well, she walked into that one, didn’t she? “You got somethin’ you wanna confess there, girl?”
He hadn’t thought her cheeks could get any redder, but they did. Clearly, despite the dark and the orange glow of the fire.
She shrugged, though, and flicked her gaze somewhere just over his left shoulder. “You got those arms,” she said, as though that explained everything. “Makes a girl wonder what else you got that’s worth ogling. Works real good for inspiration.”
She’d lost him there, clearly, and smirked at the look on his face as she explained. “For masturbating, Daryl. You know what that is, right?”
“You mean you—” He just stared at her across the fire. Cleared his throat again and wracked his brain for something else to say but coming up empty. “Fuck.”
“Oh, like you don’t know,” she said, shaking her head and grinning in a self-conscious little way. “Come on. Be honest. How many people did you fuck in the guard tower?”
“I ain’t had sex since before the world ended, Beth,” he said, speaking before he could stop himself. Something constricted inside his chest but when he looked up at her, she wasn’t smirking or gloating or anything like that. No, she had her head tilted delicately to one side as she studied his face.
When she spoke, her voice was soft. Barely audible over the fire’s crackling. “Why not?”
He could probably lie, at this point, but he didn’t really want to. Not with Beth, anyway. So he shrugged, glanced down at his boots. “Never liked it much, before, and I—” he cleared his throat, willing down the squirming gathered there “—you know. You know.”
You know I ain’t good with people. You know I don’t like bein’ touched, unless it’s—fuck, unless it’s you. You know, Beth. You know.
He didn’t notice her come around to join him on his side of the fire until her arm butted up against his. “I know,” she said, and leaned her head over until it rested on his shoulder. “Should we play something else?”
She was giving him an out, bless her good fucking heart. But—and this was as much a surprise to him in the moment as it was gonna be to her—he wanted exactly the opposite. Reaching around behind her, he grabbed her ponytail and gave it a gentle tug, which made her pop her head back up to look at him.
“Naw,” he said, holding her gaze as he slowly drew his hand down to the end of her gathered hair. “And I do a better job with my hand, anyway.”
Beth let out another one of those soft little giggles, and swept her tongue across her bottom lip. “But why use your own spit when you can use someone else’s?”
“And what do you know about that, Beth Greene?” he asked, tugging her hair again, this time a little sharper.
“Well,” she said, making an effort to sound like a proper southern lady. “I always got Jimmy goin’ off like a rocket, and I could get Zack to make these amazing noises whenever I sucked his cock.”
“Jesus Christ,” Daryl breathed.
Beth laughed around the thumb she now had stuck in her mouth. “That’s what Jimmy always said.”
He was pretty sure his eyes rolled around his head at least twice. What he wasn’t sure about was why it took this long for him to start getting hard, but now that the blood started flowing, it seemed to be making up for lost time.
“That ain’t fair,” Daryl said, finding his voice after all. “Boy gets lost in your cunt, and you blow him anyway?”
“That’s a filthy word, Daryl Dixon,” Beth said, pushing at his sternum with a pointy little finger—pointedly ignoring his statement, too.
“What is?” he asked, poking her right back.
Up this close, he was pleased to see how fast the flush rose up along her neck and into her cheeks. “That word.”
It was his turn to laugh, now, considering she done all this stuff but it was a word that flustered her the most. “You gotta say it, Greene.”
Beth scowled at him, even as she fought an embarrassed little smile. She licked her lips again, opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, then finally took a deep breath and whispered, “Cunt.”
She was fucking adorable as hell, with her spit-shined lips and her hot pink cheeks. “Now use it in a sentence.”
“All right,” she said, breathing a little harder all the sudden, staring at him with an intense sort of gaze that he couldn’t break away from if he tried. “That word is so filthy that when you say it, Daryl Dixon, my cunt gets so fucking wet.”
Some sound came out of his mouth in response to that, but Daryl couldn’t have said what, because most of his attention was split between Beth’s filthy fucking grin and the pain of his cock straining against his zipper. Without even caring that she could see him, Daryl adjusted himself in his jeans, watching as her gaze flicked down to what his hand was doing and then back up to his face.
Daryl didn’t know where the words were coming from, but they rumbled out of his mouth like a force that couldn’t be contained. “Wet enough to touch yourself?”
Beth let out a shaky little breath, and shifted against the log they were sitting on. “Wet enough I don’t have to.”
His tongue felt as though it got at least four times thicker than it ought to be. “And how wet is that?”
She swallowed hard and blinked at him. “Wet enough to change your mind.”
She already had, long before they ever delved into this conversation, but he wasn’t gonna let her know that. Instead he palmed himself through the denim, arching into his own hand, to carry on with this sweet torture for just a little bit longer. “Yeah? And how you gonna do that?”
“I’d suck your cock,” she said, gaze flicking down to where he was still touching himself. “Except you’re hard enough that I don’t have to.”
“Maybe—” a shudder rolled through his body, as he gazed at her, her big eyes with the pupils blown wide. Oh, girl. “—maybe I’d wanna taste you first.”
“Maybe I’d let you,” she whispered, rocking a little against the log. “As long as you ain’t gonna get lost in my cunt.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Can’t promise I wouldn’t,” he said, drawing his own tongue along his lip, leaning a little closer to her. “But not ‘cause I couldn’t find what I was lookin’ for.”
She made a sound that was halfway between a giggle and a moan and leaned in, too. “You an expert on lickin’ pussy, Mr. Dixon?”
Moving closer now, he shook his head, dropped his gaze down to where she was busy working the seam of those tight as hell jeans against her clit. “I’m a quick learner.”
“You’d make me come so hard,” she said, eyes drifting shut now as her forehead met his. “I’d come all over your face.”
“And I’d lick you off my lips like grape jelly,” Daryl replied, drawing his thumb across her lip as he spoke.
Beth laughed, a gravelly, breathy thing which washed warm over his face. “I’d help.”
“‘Course you would, dirty girl,” he teased, bucking into his hand as she bit down on his thumb. “Fuck, Beth.”
“I—I don’t wanna play anymore, Daryl,” Beth whispered.
He groaned. “Me either.”
And he knew what she was gonna say, even before she laughed, but he let her say it anyway. “What changed your mind?”
“Oh, girl,” he breathed, finding the answer for her at last. “You.”