Work Text:
Daryl hadn’t entered the house since he and Rick had explored what lay in the basement a few weeks prior.
But he sure as hell looked at it a lot.
Keeping a careful eye on it, seeing if anyone came and went, if anyone used it. But there was no one. He didn’t even see anyone maintain it, which was weird since the lawn stayed perfectly manicured, and not an inch of dust layered the abandoned porch. Even his cigarette butts he’d thrown in the grass that first day had disappeared.
Whenever he stared at it, watched it, he’d usually end up chewing on his thumbnail nervously – thinking about the things he’d seen in the basement. The labels on some of those plastic tubs, things he’d only ever read about growing up, or had seen in sleazy sex shops when Merle would drag him in wanting to get more porno DVD’s. He’d never… played with anything, experimented, but he’d imagined it. Thought about it, tried to pretend he knew what it would feel like – to be stuffed that full, the vibrations, the restraint. And he was curious. He would admit that much at least to himself, but growing up the way he did – and living with Merle until the world ended – he never so much as entertained the thought of ever acting out his fantasies.
But now… the house was practically a gift wrapped opportunity.
It took him a few weeks to get up the courage to go back, on a night he knew some of the rookies were on watch, and the only people who could actually catch him in the darkness of the streets were already at home and taking advantage of the time to get some sleep. But Daryl couldn’t sleep, not when there was a window to actually get to the house and –
Hell, he didn’t know yet. But just the thought of what he could do was enough to churn his insides, make him squirm in arousal and leaving him half hard as all blood rushed south. It’d be better if he had someone to help him, since he hadn’t done anything like this before, someone he trusted to guide him. There was really only one person he trusted that much, though. And suddenly images of Rick between his legs, working something in him slowly, flashed abruptly and violently before his eyes – shaking him from his thoughts like a punch to the face. But that wasn’t an option, no matter how much he wanted it to be. He didn’t have the courage to ask Rick anything like that, embarrassment racing through him at just the thought. No, it was better he did this himself. He didn’t have anyone he could ask even if he wasn’t too chicken-shit to approach the subject, not with it being so soon for Rick after Jessie’s death, and everyone else already paired off or preoccupied with their own problems. His only problem was that he was insanely horny and going stir crazy inside these damn tin walls.
So, under the faded streetlights, Daryl left a little after midnight and finally made his way to the white house tucked against the back wall. Rick’s stolen keys clanking softly with each step in his pocket, Daryl’s shoulders hunched and walking quickly, his thumbnail torn and bleeding he was chewing on it so harshly.
He quickly climbed the dark steps, unlocking the padlock he and Rick had added, and slipped inside as quiet as a whisper. Locking it behind him to make sure no one would come in after him. He couldn’t relock the padlock, but the chance anyone followed him was slim – next to zero.
Nervous and breathing a little shakily, Daryl padded towards the daunting basement door, not sure why he was so wary of the basement and what it held. No one was there with him, even if he messed it up no one would see it – and he could just jerk off in peace. Still his insides squirmed and left him twitchy and anxious, his thumb almost permanently attached to his front teeth like a security blanket, but he pulled the flashlight out of his pocket and made his way down the dark stairs anyway.
At the bottom he flipped on the light, the room just as pristine and empty as when he and Rick had seen it weeks before, with the floor to ceiling shelves just sitting there waiting for him. He approached slowly, pale eyes tracing over each plastic tub, reading the labels carefully and deciding. He pulled down ‘Lubricants and Oils’ first, setting the dark tub on the ground, before looking up and trying to choose between ‘Plugs’ and ‘Prostate Stimulators’. He knew what he wanted, what he was looking for, but he bit his lip in worry that it wasn’t going to be there. Nothing matched the description.
He finally went with ‘Plugs’ and pulled it down, popping open the lid and seeing the vast array of anal plugs in all shapes and sizes. He’d only played with his ass a couple times before, and even stringing those words together in a thought made him flush red with embarrassment, but he also felt an ache deep inside him that throbbed in time with the blood rushing to his dick and making him uncomfortably hard in his jeans. He kneeled down, sifting through the contents of the box as he set it on the white carpet, marveling at the assortment and even blushing harder at the size of some of the plugs.
And then, at the bottom, he found what he’d been looking for.
Different sizes and lengths of anal beads, some made of hard plastic and a few made of glass. Daryl swallowed hard, picking up a larger strand that had the largest bead go up to the size of tennis ball. Fuck, he wasn’t sure if he’d get all of that in him – not by himself. But fuck if he didn’t want to try – he should probably start smaller though.
There was a glass collection that had the largest bead about the size a golf-ball, and Daryl held it in his hands for a minute, looking at it and still not completely sure he could go through with this. He wasn’t really sure how it worked, what was the best way to do this without hurting himself, and wouldn’t that be a fucking embarrassing trip to Denise.
But he was already here, and Daryl really wanted to do this. He wanted to feel full, quivered where he sat at the anticipation of it, and fuck it all – he was doing this.
Quickly shucking his winged vest and leather jacket, he let the heavy material hit the floor, suddenly too hot in the bright room. He popped a few buttons on his shirt to try and cool down, knowing the flush in his cheeks had traveled down his neck and across his chest, and then tried to busy himself digging through the lubricant box. Luckily there was one specifically just for anal, making his choice easier – he couldn’t think much more on this or he wasn’t going to go through with it.
He dropped everything on the bed in the corner, the beads and lube and a larger plug that made his mouth water standing out starkly against the dark purple duvet. He quickly undid the rest of the buttons, the blush covering most of his torso now making it feel like his skin was on fire, starting to sweat at the mere indication of what he was about to do. He kept reminding himself he was alone, there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but… he was almost getting off on it. How filthy this was going to get, intimate parts of himself he hadn’t touched before, and the anticipation was choking him in the most erotic way.
Pale eyes found the corner where the mirror showed his reflection staring back at him, hands already on his belt and trying to undo his jeans, and it made him pause. He hadn’t ever really liked looking at himself, sure he had a broad chest and thick muscled arms, but he didn’t really have a six-pack like those guys in the magazines, scars littered his skin in grotesque patterns, and his hair always hung in his face. But he wasn’t here to look at himself, he was here to try and feel something he hadn’t ever had a chance to before. He was here to explore. So he purposefully looked away, kicked off his boots and let his pants drop to the ground. His erection strained against his boxer briefs, the fabric black and standing out against his lightly tan skin, but he climbed onto the bed and settled on his back. Wiggling around until he got comfortable, the curve of his spine relaxing into the plush material that was supported by the firm mattress. It didn’t have any give, which was just how Daryl liked it – it was like the bed was made just for this.
Which made him think, it probably was.
There was a mirror on the ceiling too, Goddamn it. And Daryl was suddenly seeing himself sprawled out on the dark purple duvet, flushed and breathing a little heavily, sweat making his long hair start to stick to his face – and he hadn’t even done anything yet. But he was about to. He closed his eyes, not wanting to watch himself, and let his hands travel across his skin. Down his stomach to the V of his hips to palm himself through the thin fabric.
He wouldn’t lie to himself about who he imagined was the one really touching him, rough hands and striking blue eyes that never seemed to blink, watching every inch of him as he reacted to each touch and trace of fingertips. He hooked his thumbs inside the waistband of his briefs, and slid the fabric down his legs, his dick springing free – aching and flushed as the rest of him. Fuck, he hadn’t been this turned on in his life.
His hand around his warm shaft made a gasp escape him softly, the pressure something sinful that he hadn’t been able to indulge in for the longest time. He slowly began to stroke himself, bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyes slitting open to see how hard he was aching. And also to grab the lube, squirting a good amount in his hand, and planting his feet on the bed in preparation for where his fingers were about to go next.
Daryl stroked himself some more, sending trails of fire up his spine and to every nerve-ending, making his skin buzz with pleasure, soft and barely there whines getting caught in the back of his throat. Until he remembered he was alone, again, and no one would hear him. He could scream if he wanted, he could cuss and shout and call Rick’s name if he wanted, and no one would be the wiser.
The thought was intoxicating.
When he was good and aroused, the very edge of close, he slid his hands down, one fondling his balls and the other starting to circle his entrance. He lifted his hips by pushing down with his feet, giving himself a better angle to reach his hole without making it awkward, though the whole thing felt a little awkward. He’d only done this once or twice, the first time when he was still in his teens – almost a lifetime ago. His own warm fingers still slick with lube traced the sensitive area, puckered and so filthy that Daryl knew his face was bright red. He couldn’t believe he was doing this – he also couldn’t believe it felt good. Felt amazing, the tips of his fingers teasing his entrance and dipping inside easily when he made himself relax. The pressure was different, only burned a little bit, and as he massaged each wall with his finger, he was able to bury it in himself up to his knuckle. It was weird, intrusive, but oddly arousing, despite how his dick had lost a little bit of interest. Daryl remedied that by beginning to stroke himself again, pulling at the appendage in the way he knew he loved the most, and soon the combined pressure was creating a whole new kind of pleasure to build deep inside him.
It felt amazing.
Holy fuck.
Daryl’s mouth was open now, panting as he worked his own finger in and out of himself, slick and greedy. It didn’t take long for him to try and fit another finger alongside his first, and that took a second to adjust as well. He held them there, rubbing at the edges of his entrance like he did the first time, and in his exploration he buried his fingers to the knuckle again and suddenly brushed over something deep inside that made his hips buck upwards. It was just a spot that felt heated, a bundle of nerves that was sensitive to the touch and had him crying out when he rubbed it, eyes snapping open when he did.
Well he found his fucking prostate.
It was a revelation that had him wide-eyed and surprised, panting so hard his chest heaved, and the image in the mirror above him showed how contorted and wrecked he already was at just fingering himself.
He didn’t know he was that flexible.
Gaze skittering to the toys beside him, Daryl saw the plug and the beads, and tried to decide what to do. He was eager now, his erection ached and wept pre-cum like a fucking leaking faucet, making it easier to fuck his fist. He couldn’t describe the amount of self-discipline it was taking to not just come right now like a fucking teenager, already so close to the edge that all he really needed to do was just imagine rough hands and the scratch of a beard on his thighs as a dark head of curls lowered down to where he had been giving himself so much attention he felt raw with it and –
Goddamn it.
A keen escaped him, vibrated up his throat and against his clenched teeth, and he had to remove all his fingers, not touch himself at all because he was about to come at just the thought of Rick’s warm breath on his dick, it was enough to send him over the edge. And then it would all be over, and he’d never know.
Daryl breathed heavily, tried to control his racing heart, and finally snagged the plug beside him, knowing he should try and start with it – and also wait and figure out what to do with the dark glass beads. He had brought over the short instruction manual too that had been with them, so he didn’t hurt himself. Generously applying the anal lube to the plug, glass just like the beads except clear in color, shining in the bright lights of the room, Daryl lifted his hips again and guided the toy to his well worked entrance.
The pressure was intense, stretching him and making him grit his teeth again, but after a few controlled breaths and some patience the glass toy was inside him. He let go hesitantly, almost worried it would get stuck, but once it was in he was full, stretched and filled so fully he had to take a moment to breathe. To adjust to the new sensations – he did it, he had it in him. And with the aftershocks of pleasure still racing through his veins, the smooth round head of the toy was jostled when his whole body twitched at the intrusion, and suddenly it was against his prostate.
The build-up happened slowly in an increasing crescendo as he shook and the toy shook with him, and the onslaught of pleasure that wrecked his body was devastating.
He almost couldn’t breathe, gasping for air with an open mouth, and trembling at the waves that flowed through him. One hand was back at his entrance in a moment, easing the plug just a little bit back so he could catch his breath, the other holding onto the base of his rock hard dick in hopes of staving off the orgasm that wanted to tear him apart at the seams.
Holy shit.
He hadn’t been expecting that.
Experimentally, he pushed the plug back in, and found himself gasping and grinding down desperately on the toy, practically fucking himself with it. The plug was large, almost the size of a dildo, he should’ve gone smaller – but just the thought of something that large inside him was enough to make him pant for breath.
His cheeks were stained with shame at those thoughts, god he felt like such a slut. The whores that ached and pleaded for Merle’s cock at the strip clubs, obviously faking it – but Daryl wasn’t faking it, he wanted this shit up his ass so bad, he couldn’t even describe why. It felt so good, so fucking good, and set his blood on fire.
He was about to explode from the pleasure.
He stopped himself, quivering with the effort it took. He had been moving back and forth so the toy was thrust in and out of him, hips rotating in such a desperate attempt at riding the damn thing that was nowhere near big enough to satisfy the itch that made him want to scream in frustration – flushed red and sweaty and panting, so desperate for it. So fucking desperate for it, he wanted to be fucked hard and fast and with something much bigger.
He let out a huff of frustration, dissatisfaction fraying the edges of his patience and arousal, God it wasn’t enough.
But Daryl had prepared for it to not be enough.
His muscles trembled in small spasms, quivering and needy, sweat slicked and red skin aching for touch that wasn’t his own. He burned for it, and was once again reminded that he was dreadfully alone.
Time to take it up a notch, he supposed.
He eased the plug out of his gaping entrance, not able to help the disappointed sound at being so empty and still so fucking hard. But then he picked up the beads, rolling the cool glass in his slicked up hands, covered in lube and pre-cum and sweat, and swallowed hard again in anticipation.
The instructions mostly said to take your time and use a lot of lube, and to take them out right when he came – that it would be mind blowing. One of Merle’s girls from years ago had told him it would be, and he had wanted to try it ever since. That had been the first time he fingered himself.
Who would’ve known, 20 years later, that he was getting a chance to try it.
He was probably too old to still be experimenting like this, but fuck if his body wasn’t aching for it.
He lubed up each ball carefully, sliding them around on his fingers, still not quite sure how they would all fit in him. But none the less, he planted his feet once more, not giving his aching erection even a passing touch as he reached down once more and slid the first small sphere inside himself. He was already so open and aching for it that it went without a fight, along with the second one, and Daryl sighed at the full feeling once more, immediately trying to breach himself again with the third sphere.
This one took some coaxing, fingers teasing his entrance open and holding it so the third sphere could fit inside, stretching impossibly wide it seemed until it slid in and clinked against the second one, reverberating through the muscles. It made Daryl shudder, and he gave himself a moment to adjust again, the manual said go slow. So he held them in there with one hand, hips already rotating and fucking the air, trying to move down on something that wasn’t there, his other hand finding his own dick to stroke himself in time with his thrusts. The beads inside him moved with his muscles, rolling against his prostate once more, air becoming so hard to gasp and hold in his lungs with the heat that raced through him and left him wrecked. Every inch of him buzzing and so high on the pleasure that his mind had fizzled out to just the waves of ecstasy that assaulted him in time with his racing heart. Goddamn this was fucking amazing, why had he never done this before.
Huffing and panting for air, Daryl let go of his dick and reached down to start trying to move the fourth bead inside him. There was only five, and he wanted to know if he could fit them all. But it was going to take some effort, he could tell. He poured a little more lube on his fingers, tracing over the sphere and shaking with the exertion of keeping his hips lifted and holding what was basically a crunch up so he could try to push the toy further inside him. It took two fingers scissoring his hole, fingertips inside him and brushing against the warm glass beads already in him, and a little more force than he probably should have used to push the bead in, sighing when it was inside and he felt the soft clink of it hitting the others, his entrance closing up behind it.
“Fuuucckkk,” he ground out, God he was so full, and he still had one more to go. He was double fisting his dick now, ass holding on to the beads and thrusting once again so he could feel the toy inside him. He was so close, he was so fucking close, the blinding white edges spotted his vision that spoke of his pending orgasm that wanted to wreck him like a tidal wave. He was moaning and groaning with each thrust, and it would be so easy to cum in that moment.
Don’t.
He told himself that, the one syllable making him let go of his dick and throw his hands up by his head, breathing heavy and stalling his hips, still lifted and trembling.
Because that voice in his head sounded like Rick.
He could barely see he was so cross-eyed, but as he blinked he could begin to make out the image of himself in the mirror after a moment. He was wrecked, red faced and slicked wet and practically vibrating out of his skin. Obscenely wide mouth bitten raw and scratches up and down his chest and torso, over his thighs, from his own blunt nails trying to control his urge to just cum and end the torment that was giving him the most pleasurable sexual experience of his life.
You’re almost there.
He was, but he didn’t know if he could do it.
He swallowed, closing his eyes again against the mirrored image of himself in such a mess he knew both his Pa and his brother were rolling over in their graves, and reached down once more. His thighs and hips trembled with the force of keeping himself lifted up for so long so he could maneuver himself into position. Just one more bead, and he traced over this one with more lube than the last combined, the sphere almost dripping in the fluid.
The pressure was insane, it wasn’t going to fit, he stretched himself so wide, having to use his thumb and forefinger after sinking three long digits in up to the knuckle, making the beads roll over his prostate again and punching another groan out of his chest. It almost hurt the pressure was so much, but he could do it – he knew he could do it.
Just relax, came Rick’s voice again, and Daryl tried to breathe, cheeks hollowing with the effort. And with an enormous amount of effort, he got the bead to squeeze inside him, past his aching entrance and inside to roll the other four further into him.
He had to once again hold the beads inside him, because it was too much – they shouldn’t be able to fit. But they did. Holy fuck they did. Daryl tried to breathe, but it felt like someone was sitting on his chest. He lowered his hips to the bed to try and relax, and the movement reminded him where exactly the beads were sitting, massaging his abused prostate to the point that he arched off the bed, rolling against the over-used channel in the most insane way. And then Daryl was rotating his hips again, trying to ride the beads all pushed together inside him like a giant dildo, his hand on his entrance giving just the right amount of pressure it was as if the beads were moving inside him. Fucking him deeply and fully, and Daryl could feel heat behind his eyes at the intense pleasure and pressure that wracked his body, rapture and devastating ecstasy so extreme it was going to tear him apart. He was about to fucking cry it felt so good, felt so much.
His other hand was back on his raw and straining dick, flushed so red from how much he’d neglected it and edged to the very brink of insanity, that the strokes were almost not even felt. But he felt the beads in him as he thrust into his fist, moving fast and reckless, and the hard glass revolted against the movement of his abdominal muscles, as if someone was thrusting inside him as well and Daryl couldn’t even think twice about who it would be. Couldn’t stop imagining what he wanted.
Fucking him hard and fast, strong arms and chest, dark curls dripping sweat onto his chest, blue eyes blown black, making sure he would feel him for days after.
His mouth was open so wide, slick with spit from forgetting to swallow for so long, that the cry he let out was loud – hoarse and choked off, echoing in the empty room – and Daryl arched so high off the bed at the pleasure that began to rip through him like a tidal wave. He barely had the thought to pull on the beads as he fucked his fist, his body releasing each sphere in a shockwave that had his muscles clamping down on nothing and making his orgasm ricochet like a gunshot against every bone and nerve ending. He came so hard he felt cum hit the bottom of his chin, splatter across his chest warmly, and a wrecked sob escaped his throat as wave after wave assaulted him. His vision was blacked out so intensely it had turned white, leaving him a trembling mess of fluids and loose limbs, red skin and stringy hair. The beads lay wet and used on the bed between his legs, and his hole felt abused and raw and so well worn it made him sigh shakily in satisfaction.
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
When he came back to himself, Daryl realized he had imagined – in striking and vivid detail – Rick Grimes bending him in half and fucking him within an inch of his life.
As he slowly became more and more aware of his limbs, fingers rubbing at his eyes with one hand and the other landing on his chest only to come into contact with the quickly drying cum that was stuck in his chest hair, he realized that was something he desperately wanted. And that gave him pause.
Daryl didn’t know if it could ever be a fantasy that would come to life.
But he had just proved to himself that he could be a determined son’uva’bitch when he wanted to be.
So as he sat up on the bed, his whole body aching and sated in the most gratifying way, he reached for his shirt to try and get some of the cum off his neck and chest and tried to think of any reason that he could to get Rick to step foot back into the Sex House.
He might have to get creative, but with a new found sense of ambition, Daryl was pretty sure he could find a way.