[fic] the feeling I get when I wake to your face (it's love)
Title: the feeling I get when I wake to your face (it's love)
Author: badboy_fangirl
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters/Pairings: Beth & Daryl POV; Daryl/Beth
Word Count: ~2700
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 / Spoilers through 5x02, with completely wrong speculation for upcoming episodes.
Summary: People wouldn't be happy until they did it-did it. Are you happy, people?
Author's notes: Final part of the Sexy Trilogy. Part one: we're drivin' cadillacs in our dreams and part two: turn my soul into a raging fire. Title lifted from Sugarland's song "Love."
Beth awakes suddenly and with total awareness.
It's hard not to be shockingly mindful of a naked man lying beneath you, especially when you've never had one before.
(Beneath you, or otherwise.)
Beth giggles at her own thoughts, and that's when the odd weight on top of her registers. Turning her head, she sees leather out of the corner of her eye. Even though a part of her has often imagined being wrapped in Daryl's Angel Wings, both figuratively and literally, she thinks it's a bit silly that he chose to use it as a blanket.
She shrugs a shoulder and one of the arm holes slides down over her upper arm. He moves under her slightly, so she knows he's not asleep. "Not much for keepin' ya warm, I know. It was the only thing I could reach from here."
From here, of course, means from underneath you.
Beth lifts her head and looks into his face, but it's long since fully dark now, so they can't really see each other.
It should make it easier to say. But she still chickens out.
"What?" he murmurs, and she doesn't know how he knew she was gonna say something that she didn't, but he does.
"I'm cold," she says, which isn't entirely a lie.
He jostles her slightly, rolling them both to their sides. They were already lying on one unzipped sleeping bag, but from the other side of the tent he reaches for a second blanket, which he spreads out over her. His hand pats her shoulder slightly as the blanket settles and then he asks, "Or do y'wanna put some clothes on?"
"No," she answers, probably too quickly, but that's not what she wants at all. "In fact," she says, rubbing her foot over the length of his calf muscle. "You're not naked enough."
He chuckles, but moves into a sitting position long enough to yank his pants all the way off. It takes a bit longer than she thinks it should, but then he mutters, "Fuckin' boots," and she starts laughing.
"Shhhh," Daryl hisses. "People are probably sick to death of all the noise we're makin'."
Beth blushes, because if laughter was all they'd heard, that would be the least of her worries. "I'll never be able to look Rick in the face again," she says, purposely lowering her voice.
"Awww, he'll be cool," Daryl defends. He lays back down, scooting himself closer to her, so she lifts the blanket up to get him under it with her. "But we should probably, uh...."
"Be more discreet?" Beth asks, smiling despite herself. She's like 40% embarrassed, and 60% proud.
"I was gonna say, move the tent away from this area," Daryl says, sliding a hand over her hip. The touch of his fingertips makes her belly flutter. His tone drops, but it's not for privacy reasons. "I like the sounds ya make."
His lips find hers without any problem in the dark, and Beth hums in her throat because she agrees. If the only music she could ever hear again was the sound of Daryl when he comes, she would be satisfied. It was not a sound she'd ever anticipated in her life, but now that she's heard it, she doesn't expect to be happy without it.
She wraps an arm around his neck, and their bodies naturally align themselves. The feel of his chest against hers makes her nipples go into hard, achy points, and she has this desire to lift her leg up to slide it over his hip, bringing that part of him reacting to her right to the heart of her body.
She doesn't, though, because she's not that brave, not just yet. Not to mention, they'd sort of already agreed they weren't doing this the traditional way.
(From the way Daryl's kissing her, though, she thinks maybe he forgot about that deal they made.)
The hand on her hip moves up, traveling along her side, tickling as his thumb dips down, brushing her navel, and then his palm cups her breast. He rubs the fleshy pads at the top of his palm softly over her, and her nipple tingles in anticipation of something more, so when he pinches it slightly between his thumb and forefinger, one of those sounds he loves leaps, unwarranted, from her throat. He pulls his lips from her mouth only to suck his way down her neck, and when he shifts her to bring her chest to his face, his erection grazes her pubic hair.
She makes another sound, arching herself, and then his hand is there, on her thigh, grabbing it and pulling it up over his hip just the way she wanted it. "Oh, god, Daryl..." she moans when the heat and hardness of his cock hits her just right.
She jerks against him, but he lifts his head, pulling back from her. "Sorry, sorry," he mutters and she curls her leg around him as he tries to retreat.
"No, no, wait..." she says, breathless and panting. She squeezes her eyes shut, and tries to get her mind on a rational thought. "You know, Maggie and Glenn have managed to do this for a long time without any babies coming along..."
"Fuck, Beth," Daryl chokes, and she's not sure what it means. Maybe he wants her to talk him into it, or out of it, but she's not even sure what she wants him to do right this moment. Agree or disagree?
She takes a deep breath, which is problematic in that it actually causes their bodies to caress each other some more. She tries to clear her mind. What does she want?
She just wants him inside her, and fuck the consequences.
Fuck, Beth...
She moves her hips against his again, pivoting herself so that she's rubbing against him just right, so that he can feel the warmth of her desire for him. "I want you," she whispers, but it feels louder than any other sound she's made all evening. Because she means something more than that. Because she feels something more than that. "I love you," she continues, her voice still and calm in the midst of a brewing storm.
"Oh, Jesus," he blurts, dropping his head down on to her shoulder.
She'd wanted to say it earlier, but it's so much more powerful now. She knows it's crazy and reckless, but maybe sometimes that's the only way to learn.
She reaches for his cock, and puts him right where he needs to be for the next easy movement on his part to be the one where they aren't separate anymore. "Do it," she says. She's not loud, and she's not quiet, not this time.
It's just what needs to be said, in just the right tone, at just the right volume.
Daryl's eyes come up to hers, deliberate, searching. She can feel their intensity, even if she can't see them clearly.
And then his hand moves to the small of her back, holding her in place. He uses the weight of his body to push her over, so they're no longer on their sides, but instead he's on top of her.
Her breathing ratchets up, and anticipation floods her, from spinning head to tingling toes. Then he's bearing down a little, and she can feel her body accepting him. It's not as simple as she thought it would be, but it's not painful, either.
They've been building to this moment for a long time; even when they were apart and she didn't know if she'd ever see him again, but her body recognizes him, immediately. He's her partner, her mate, the one.
Beth Greene never really believed in notions like that, she was too modern and there were too many boys to ever think that just one could somehow complete her.
But that was before Daryl Dixon showed up.
When he's all the way inside her, they both pause. Their breathing syncs up and Beth puts her hands on either side of his face, her fingers brushing his cheekbones while her palms feel the softness of his beard. She guides his mouth to hers, and kisses him deeply, letting her tongue imitate the penetration of his body into hers.
When she breaks away for another breath, she whispers again, "I love you."
That's when Daryl starts moving.
Daryl's never set much store by anything that was deemed normal or ordinary. In most of the places he'd been before the Walkers showed up, normal was a relative term, and growing up in poverty and dirt and ugliness was, by his community, normal.
He'd never felt normal in that place.
It wasn't until everything fell apart that he found his place. That he found himself. That he could say to his brother it wasn't okay for them to be redneck assholes. That he could think of being something other than a mean, dirty, awful person, just like his daddy.
He met men, who were men. Who were honorable, who tried to do the right thing, even when whatever the fuck the right thing was, was practically impossible to see.
He met women who wanted to do good, and be good, and who sometimes had to choose terrible things to see that good could come about.
And now, now he's in a whirlwind of passion with the brightest light who ever shined in the darkness of his life, and he's not too sure that he's choosing the right thing, but he lets himself off the hook.
Because she loves him.
And somehow, that makes everything all right.
He braces a hand on the floor next to Beth's head and thrusts his hips forward, and then eases them back, slowly, trying to find a pace that will build evenly for the both of them. Beth is eager, her hands gripping at his head, her legs slithered around his, her body warm, and wet, and open, but so damn tight that he feels everything as he moves in and out of her. Every sound she makes seems to vibrate right through him, and he wishes he had more experience with this, that he had some technical knowledge that might override the blinding, searing heat melting his brain at the moment.
He tries to think, but the reality is just Beth. Beth. Beth. Beth. Beth. Each stroke takes him further into her, deeper into this place of unreality where she loves him, where she wants him, where she whisper-pleads, "Yes, yes, oh, oooooohhhhh," and he doesn't want it to end, he just wants her to be in that place forever, the one where it's so good, but not as great as it will be, where the heat and fear mix into something that annihilates everything he thinks he's ever known.
She chokes on his name, and the begging reaches new heights as she strains beneath him. He uses his free hand to grab at her leg, slinging it over his elbow. It opens her up even more, shifting her wider to accept him, and the sound she makes then takes them both to the summit. She sobs out something that might be words, but it's too garbled to know for sure, and then she clenches, her whole body clamping down around his all at once. Sensation like he's never known rushes through his spine and out his arms and legs, and he collapses against her, sure he'll never move again.
(He actually meant to pull out at the last minute, but this just proves that that's the dumbest form of birth control ever.)
He must fall to sleep, which would make sense, because he's fucking exhausted, but he doesn't stay out long. He hadn't been able to sleep the whole time she had because it had been too precious, the sound of her breathing, the feel of her on top of him, but after his third orgasm in a short amount of time, he has no choice but to catch a few winks.
When he comes to, her hands are softly stroking through his hair, and she's humming some little song, something that feels familiar, so it's probably one of the songs she sang when they were at the funeral home together. He shifts his body, and their skins peel apart with minor stings. Beth gasps a little, this time not because of something sexy going on with them, and Daryl mutters an apology. "You shoulda woke me up. I had to be crushin' ya," he scolds, moving his body to lie beside hers.
She turns into him and her lips caress his throat. "I figured if I died, it was the way I was meant to go," she giggles, and he realizes she's teasing him. Which makes him feel almost as happy as when she said she loved him.
He hugs her against him, and plants a kiss in her hair. This is the rightest he's ever been, and maybe it will feel awkward in the morning light, and when they inevitably face their friends who will most definitely harass them for their loudness, but as her arm surrounds his waist and her hand smooths over his back, he doesn't think anything can make it less than what it is.
"This's where you belong," he murmurs.
She nestles closer to him, rubbing her cheek to his chest. "How so?" she asks.
"With me, in this tent," he says. "You need to give your tent back."
"Okay," she says, and then she yawns, and he's pretty sure he's never heard anything quite so adorable.
He suddenly feels suspicious. "So, that's it?" he asks. It's too easy.
"Well," she says, and her fingertips start a thrumming pattern in the crevice of his spine. "You could say something that would make it a little more official."
He could. But it scares the shit out of him.
"Hmmmm," he says non-committally.
Beth is undeterred by his reluctance, however. "You could say you're gonna make an honest woman of me." He can hear the smile in her voice when she continues, "Because knowing you, that's something that bothers you. It would bother my dad, too, and you're more like him than you realize. Or, you could say I'm gonna ask Maggie for permission to court you, but that's kinda too old-fashioned, and a bit of letting the horse out once the barn door's been shut, anyway. Or, you could just tell me I love you. Since I already know you do. Or, y'know, just do whatever you want. I'm not picky."
Daryl's throat feels tight when he asks, "How do you know?"
"Oh, Daryl," she sighs, holding him tighter. "How could I not? Even if we hadn't gone through all we have, this night, this whole thing. I haven't been around the block much, but this was pretty special, don't you think? I'm pretty sure you don't bring all the girls back here for something like this."
"'Course, I don't," he spits before he can control his tongue. His fingers mirror the rhythm of hers on his skin, only he lets his hand drift lower and lower down her back to the top of her ass, because she's so sweet right there, he can't touch her for long without palming a whole butt cheek in one of his hands. "You're the only girl, Beth." He knows that's a declaration of sorts, one she might like.
"I know," she says happily. Her tongue flicks out, dipping into the hollow of his throat.
"Y'gotta stop," he groans, because just that small movement causes his dick to twitch. "You're literally gonna kill me if you don't."
Beth laughs, and then uses his own words against him again. "Hey, you said this was the way to go. I'm just puttin' it to the test."
He moves his hand from her ass to cup her face and bring her lips to his. He presses his mouth hard to hers, but doesn't try to take it deeper. "I love you," he whispers.
He feels her smile, and then the wetness of her tears.
This time, they both sleep.
Author: badboy_fangirl
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters/Pairings: Beth & Daryl POV; Daryl/Beth
Word Count: ~2700
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 / Spoilers through 5x02, with completely wrong speculation for upcoming episodes.
Summary: People wouldn't be happy until they did it-did it. Are you happy, people?
Author's notes: Final part of the Sexy Trilogy. Part one: we're drivin' cadillacs in our dreams and part two: turn my soul into a raging fire. Title lifted from Sugarland's song "Love."
Beth awakes suddenly and with total awareness.
It's hard not to be shockingly mindful of a naked man lying beneath you, especially when you've never had one before.
(Beneath you, or otherwise.)
Beth giggles at her own thoughts, and that's when the odd weight on top of her registers. Turning her head, she sees leather out of the corner of her eye. Even though a part of her has often imagined being wrapped in Daryl's Angel Wings, both figuratively and literally, she thinks it's a bit silly that he chose to use it as a blanket.
She shrugs a shoulder and one of the arm holes slides down over her upper arm. He moves under her slightly, so she knows he's not asleep. "Not much for keepin' ya warm, I know. It was the only thing I could reach from here."
From here, of course, means from underneath you.
Beth lifts her head and looks into his face, but it's long since fully dark now, so they can't really see each other.
It should make it easier to say. But she still chickens out.
"What?" he murmurs, and she doesn't know how he knew she was gonna say something that she didn't, but he does.
"I'm cold," she says, which isn't entirely a lie.
He jostles her slightly, rolling them both to their sides. They were already lying on one unzipped sleeping bag, but from the other side of the tent he reaches for a second blanket, which he spreads out over her. His hand pats her shoulder slightly as the blanket settles and then he asks, "Or do y'wanna put some clothes on?"
"No," she answers, probably too quickly, but that's not what she wants at all. "In fact," she says, rubbing her foot over the length of his calf muscle. "You're not naked enough."
He chuckles, but moves into a sitting position long enough to yank his pants all the way off. It takes a bit longer than she thinks it should, but then he mutters, "Fuckin' boots," and she starts laughing.
"Shhhh," Daryl hisses. "People are probably sick to death of all the noise we're makin'."
Beth blushes, because if laughter was all they'd heard, that would be the least of her worries. "I'll never be able to look Rick in the face again," she says, purposely lowering her voice.
"Awww, he'll be cool," Daryl defends. He lays back down, scooting himself closer to her, so she lifts the blanket up to get him under it with her. "But we should probably, uh...."
"Be more discreet?" Beth asks, smiling despite herself. She's like 40% embarrassed, and 60% proud.
"I was gonna say, move the tent away from this area," Daryl says, sliding a hand over her hip. The touch of his fingertips makes her belly flutter. His tone drops, but it's not for privacy reasons. "I like the sounds ya make."
His lips find hers without any problem in the dark, and Beth hums in her throat because she agrees. If the only music she could ever hear again was the sound of Daryl when he comes, she would be satisfied. It was not a sound she'd ever anticipated in her life, but now that she's heard it, she doesn't expect to be happy without it.
She wraps an arm around his neck, and their bodies naturally align themselves. The feel of his chest against hers makes her nipples go into hard, achy points, and she has this desire to lift her leg up to slide it over his hip, bringing that part of him reacting to her right to the heart of her body.
She doesn't, though, because she's not that brave, not just yet. Not to mention, they'd sort of already agreed they weren't doing this the traditional way.
(From the way Daryl's kissing her, though, she thinks maybe he forgot about that deal they made.)
The hand on her hip moves up, traveling along her side, tickling as his thumb dips down, brushing her navel, and then his palm cups her breast. He rubs the fleshy pads at the top of his palm softly over her, and her nipple tingles in anticipation of something more, so when he pinches it slightly between his thumb and forefinger, one of those sounds he loves leaps, unwarranted, from her throat. He pulls his lips from her mouth only to suck his way down her neck, and when he shifts her to bring her chest to his face, his erection grazes her pubic hair.
She makes another sound, arching herself, and then his hand is there, on her thigh, grabbing it and pulling it up over his hip just the way she wanted it. "Oh, god, Daryl..." she moans when the heat and hardness of his cock hits her just right.
She jerks against him, but he lifts his head, pulling back from her. "Sorry, sorry," he mutters and she curls her leg around him as he tries to retreat.
"No, no, wait..." she says, breathless and panting. She squeezes her eyes shut, and tries to get her mind on a rational thought. "You know, Maggie and Glenn have managed to do this for a long time without any babies coming along..."
"Fuck, Beth," Daryl chokes, and she's not sure what it means. Maybe he wants her to talk him into it, or out of it, but she's not even sure what she wants him to do right this moment. Agree or disagree?
She takes a deep breath, which is problematic in that it actually causes their bodies to caress each other some more. She tries to clear her mind. What does she want?
She just wants him inside her, and fuck the consequences.
Fuck, Beth...
She moves her hips against his again, pivoting herself so that she's rubbing against him just right, so that he can feel the warmth of her desire for him. "I want you," she whispers, but it feels louder than any other sound she's made all evening. Because she means something more than that. Because she feels something more than that. "I love you," she continues, her voice still and calm in the midst of a brewing storm.
"Oh, Jesus," he blurts, dropping his head down on to her shoulder.
She'd wanted to say it earlier, but it's so much more powerful now. She knows it's crazy and reckless, but maybe sometimes that's the only way to learn.
She reaches for his cock, and puts him right where he needs to be for the next easy movement on his part to be the one where they aren't separate anymore. "Do it," she says. She's not loud, and she's not quiet, not this time.
It's just what needs to be said, in just the right tone, at just the right volume.
Daryl's eyes come up to hers, deliberate, searching. She can feel their intensity, even if she can't see them clearly.
And then his hand moves to the small of her back, holding her in place. He uses the weight of his body to push her over, so they're no longer on their sides, but instead he's on top of her.
Her breathing ratchets up, and anticipation floods her, from spinning head to tingling toes. Then he's bearing down a little, and she can feel her body accepting him. It's not as simple as she thought it would be, but it's not painful, either.
They've been building to this moment for a long time; even when they were apart and she didn't know if she'd ever see him again, but her body recognizes him, immediately. He's her partner, her mate, the one.
Beth Greene never really believed in notions like that, she was too modern and there were too many boys to ever think that just one could somehow complete her.
But that was before Daryl Dixon showed up.
When he's all the way inside her, they both pause. Their breathing syncs up and Beth puts her hands on either side of his face, her fingers brushing his cheekbones while her palms feel the softness of his beard. She guides his mouth to hers, and kisses him deeply, letting her tongue imitate the penetration of his body into hers.
When she breaks away for another breath, she whispers again, "I love you."
That's when Daryl starts moving.
Daryl's never set much store by anything that was deemed normal or ordinary. In most of the places he'd been before the Walkers showed up, normal was a relative term, and growing up in poverty and dirt and ugliness was, by his community, normal.
He'd never felt normal in that place.
It wasn't until everything fell apart that he found his place. That he found himself. That he could say to his brother it wasn't okay for them to be redneck assholes. That he could think of being something other than a mean, dirty, awful person, just like his daddy.
He met men, who were men. Who were honorable, who tried to do the right thing, even when whatever the fuck the right thing was, was practically impossible to see.
He met women who wanted to do good, and be good, and who sometimes had to choose terrible things to see that good could come about.
And now, now he's in a whirlwind of passion with the brightest light who ever shined in the darkness of his life, and he's not too sure that he's choosing the right thing, but he lets himself off the hook.
Because she loves him.
And somehow, that makes everything all right.
He braces a hand on the floor next to Beth's head and thrusts his hips forward, and then eases them back, slowly, trying to find a pace that will build evenly for the both of them. Beth is eager, her hands gripping at his head, her legs slithered around his, her body warm, and wet, and open, but so damn tight that he feels everything as he moves in and out of her. Every sound she makes seems to vibrate right through him, and he wishes he had more experience with this, that he had some technical knowledge that might override the blinding, searing heat melting his brain at the moment.
He tries to think, but the reality is just Beth. Beth. Beth. Beth. Beth. Each stroke takes him further into her, deeper into this place of unreality where she loves him, where she wants him, where she whisper-pleads, "Yes, yes, oh, oooooohhhhh," and he doesn't want it to end, he just wants her to be in that place forever, the one where it's so good, but not as great as it will be, where the heat and fear mix into something that annihilates everything he thinks he's ever known.
She chokes on his name, and the begging reaches new heights as she strains beneath him. He uses his free hand to grab at her leg, slinging it over his elbow. It opens her up even more, shifting her wider to accept him, and the sound she makes then takes them both to the summit. She sobs out something that might be words, but it's too garbled to know for sure, and then she clenches, her whole body clamping down around his all at once. Sensation like he's never known rushes through his spine and out his arms and legs, and he collapses against her, sure he'll never move again.
(He actually meant to pull out at the last minute, but this just proves that that's the dumbest form of birth control ever.)
He must fall to sleep, which would make sense, because he's fucking exhausted, but he doesn't stay out long. He hadn't been able to sleep the whole time she had because it had been too precious, the sound of her breathing, the feel of her on top of him, but after his third orgasm in a short amount of time, he has no choice but to catch a few winks.
When he comes to, her hands are softly stroking through his hair, and she's humming some little song, something that feels familiar, so it's probably one of the songs she sang when they were at the funeral home together. He shifts his body, and their skins peel apart with minor stings. Beth gasps a little, this time not because of something sexy going on with them, and Daryl mutters an apology. "You shoulda woke me up. I had to be crushin' ya," he scolds, moving his body to lie beside hers.
She turns into him and her lips caress his throat. "I figured if I died, it was the way I was meant to go," she giggles, and he realizes she's teasing him. Which makes him feel almost as happy as when she said she loved him.
He hugs her against him, and plants a kiss in her hair. This is the rightest he's ever been, and maybe it will feel awkward in the morning light, and when they inevitably face their friends who will most definitely harass them for their loudness, but as her arm surrounds his waist and her hand smooths over his back, he doesn't think anything can make it less than what it is.
"This's where you belong," he murmurs.
She nestles closer to him, rubbing her cheek to his chest. "How so?" she asks.
"With me, in this tent," he says. "You need to give your tent back."
"Okay," she says, and then she yawns, and he's pretty sure he's never heard anything quite so adorable.
He suddenly feels suspicious. "So, that's it?" he asks. It's too easy.
"Well," she says, and her fingertips start a thrumming pattern in the crevice of his spine. "You could say something that would make it a little more official."
He could. But it scares the shit out of him.
"Hmmmm," he says non-committally.
Beth is undeterred by his reluctance, however. "You could say you're gonna make an honest woman of me." He can hear the smile in her voice when she continues, "Because knowing you, that's something that bothers you. It would bother my dad, too, and you're more like him than you realize. Or, you could say I'm gonna ask Maggie for permission to court you, but that's kinda too old-fashioned, and a bit of letting the horse out once the barn door's been shut, anyway. Or, you could just tell me I love you. Since I already know you do. Or, y'know, just do whatever you want. I'm not picky."
Daryl's throat feels tight when he asks, "How do you know?"
"Oh, Daryl," she sighs, holding him tighter. "How could I not? Even if we hadn't gone through all we have, this night, this whole thing. I haven't been around the block much, but this was pretty special, don't you think? I'm pretty sure you don't bring all the girls back here for something like this."
"'Course, I don't," he spits before he can control his tongue. His fingers mirror the rhythm of hers on his skin, only he lets his hand drift lower and lower down her back to the top of her ass, because she's so sweet right there, he can't touch her for long without palming a whole butt cheek in one of his hands. "You're the only girl, Beth." He knows that's a declaration of sorts, one she might like.
"I know," she says happily. Her tongue flicks out, dipping into the hollow of his throat.
"Y'gotta stop," he groans, because just that small movement causes his dick to twitch. "You're literally gonna kill me if you don't."
Beth laughs, and then uses his own words against him again. "Hey, you said this was the way to go. I'm just puttin' it to the test."
He moves his hand from her ass to cup her face and bring her lips to his. He presses his mouth hard to hers, but doesn't try to take it deeper. "I love you," he whispers.
He feels her smile, and then the wetness of her tears.
This time, they both sleep.