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Rick was horny. Not just your everyday, run-of-the-mill, noticed a butt or got his crotch caught in a strong breeze horny either. This was jerking it every spare moment, wrist sore, cock chafing, whythefuckcantIstop horny.
He tried to tell himself that it was just all the stress of trying to be a dad and a role model and a leader in whatever this world was, but the truth was that he hadn't been allowed to touch Lori since long before Shane had died back at the farm, and he was fucking desperately needy.
His eyes had been straying to the women in the group more and more often, trying to figure out who would be the most viable candidate, but half of them were off limits in one way or another, and to be honest, none of them were even doing it for him anyway. He'd tried jerking off thinking about Maggie and Michonne—easily the two hottest women there in his personal opinion. He'd tried thinking about Carol's pixie-like face and how Sasha's fierce attitude would translate to a bedroom situation.
But even if he managed to cum thinking about one of them, it wasn't satisfying.
And so Rick was horny and fucking frustrated because his body wanted him to get laid but didn't want anyone he might have even been able to fuck. It was like being hungry but not being able to decide on a restaurant while your stomach continued to growl, and it was fucking pissing him off, which only fed the endless cycle of hand-fucking that he couldn't fucking escape. Goddamn masturbation purgatory.
And that's what brought him out to the yard today, violently stabbing walkers through the fence with a crow bar, venting rage and vitriol into ears that had no idea what he was saying.
“I just. want to. fucking cum. In someone,” he grunted, the words coming out rhythmically between jabs. “I just. Want to. Fuck. Something.”
“Am I interruptin somethin special?” Daryl asked. “You flirtin with the walkers now?”
Goddamn him. Goddamn him and him being able to sneak up on you like his feet were made of fucking feathers.
“Sorry,” Rick said. “Just been a while.”
“Been a while for everybody cept Glenn and Maggie.”
“I should ban them from fucking just so they're as miserable as the rest of us,” Rick said, wiping the blood on his hands onto a rag he kept tucked in his back pocket. He wiped the sweat off his forehead too and looked over at Daryl.
“Good luck,” he said. “We'd be findin 'em all over the damn place tryin to sneak around to bang each other. Fuckin teenagers, both of 'em.”
“You need something?” Rick asked.
“Just came to help,” Daryl said. “Didn't realize you were trying find some walker tail.”
“Shut up,” Rick said, and he shoved Daryl, feeling the strong muscles of his biceps hidden underneath his shirt. Why had he started wearing sleeves?
Better yet, why the fuck did Rick care? He shook his head and went back to his task, trying to clear the fence so he could go out and check the snares. Something else to keep his mind off his dick, which was half-hard even now, even after he'd spent the morning vigorously masturbating in the shower.
Fucking annoying.
“You want me to go?” Daryl asked. And Rick looked over at him again, shook his head.
“Nah. Reckon we all need a little release,” Rick said. “May as well do something useful.”
“Mhm,” Daryl said, and he pulled his knife out, aiming it at the nearest available rotten head.
“Weren't you and Carol kind of...?”
“Pfft,” Daryl said. “Carol ain't my type.”
“You have a type?” Rick asked.
“Mhm.”
“Blonde or brunette? Boobs or butt?” Rick asked.
“Brunette and no boobs ever,” Daryl said casually.
“Sorry?” Rick asked. Was he trying to say... Or did he just have some weird thing for A cups?
“Don't care about the butt so much,” Daryl said. “Just like a good, hard dick, long enough to feel it in the right places.”
Rick accidentally inhaled his spit instead of swallowing it, and he started choking, coughing right into some walker's face. The thing gurgled at him, almost looking offended, and Daryl stabbed it in the eye.
“So you're gay?” Rick asked. “You've been gay this whole time?”
He thought about all the showers they'd taken "together" in the communal bathroom of the prison, all the times he'd changed in front of Daryl like it was no big deal. But he wasn't offended or worried or anything like he might have expected. No, instead he was confused.
Because his half-erection was steadily becoming a whole one.
Weeks of thinking about the ladies, and he'd ignored the hottest piece of ass in the whole damn place.
“Um, I've been gay my whole life, Rick,” Daryl said.
“Sorry, I know it doesn't work like that. Just.. wasn't expecting..” Wasn't expecting to want to fuck you today. Rick looked down at his crotch without even meaning to. When he looked up, he found that Daryl had followed his gaze, and shit, his black pants were way too tight for it to not be noticeable, especially now that they'd been eating good again.
“You bi, Rick?” Daryl asked. And shit, he didn't know how to answer that because ten minutes ago he would have said, “no.” But he sure as shit had not gotten a hard-on like that for anyone else since Lori.
“I...”
Daryl stepped a little closer, inserting himself into Rick's personal bubble. And Rick had to remind himself that they were outside where everyone could see them just to keep himself from slamming Daryl to the ground and dry humping him right there on the patchy grass like a wildebeest in heat.
“If you need it, I'm willin,” Daryl said, eyes floating up and down Rick's body and making every muscle the former cop had clench up. “Hell, been wantin to fuck you since back at the quarry.”
“What?” Rick asked, and he could feel the fucking need seeping into the fabric of his underwear. Daryl wasn't just coming on to him because he was sexually frustrated too. No, Daryl wanted him specifically. Had him too. The Hunter and his prey.
“What I think about when I jerk off,” Daryl said. “How you'd feel sliding into my ass. Sometimes I put my fingers in there, try to imagine, but it ain't the same.”
“Jesus, Daryl.”
When did that fucker get so fucking talkative?
“You wanna fuck me or not, Rick?” Daryl asked, and Rick threw down the crowbar.
“God, yes.”
“C'mon then,” Daryl said, sheathing his knife. Rick followed him, and damn it if it wasn't the longest walk in the history of fucking walks.
Daryl wove them through the halls of the prison and up stairs, and Rick found himself trying to make out the hunter's ass through his loose-fitting jeans with every step.
At one point, Carol stopped him to ask some question about dinner or, actually he only thought that's what the question was about because he was too busy staring at the faint hint of an erection in Daryl's jeans and trying to imagine what cocks tasted like to even listen.
“Whatever you think is best,” Rick said in a daze. “Daryl and I have to take care of something.”
Carol seemed satisfied enough with that answer and let them pass.
They ended up on the roof, the thin gravel covering it crunching beneath Rick's every step. And only his steps, too. Shit, Daryl didn't even make a noise on gravel. Sometimes Rick wondered if he wasn't a ghost who just got bored with being dead and decided to hang around just to fuck with them.
Did ghosts get erections and proposition people for anal sex?
Daryl led him to a little corner of the roof where he'd strung up a tattered tarp and made a kind of awning out of it. The space inside was filled with shit, almost like Daryl had made a little nest in there—some bottles of liquor Daryl had clearly found somewhere and never mentioned to anyone, some arrow heads it looked like he'd been making himself out of stone, some things so phallic-shaped that Rick had to imagine they were there for only one purpose and that just made his cock ache even more.
“Hold on,” Daryl said, and he crawled under the tarp, pulling out a tattered blanket and stretching it across the shingles where he'd cleared the gravel away. He motioned for Rick to join him and so he did, crawling underneath it.
“This your fort?” Rick teased, and Daryl rolled his eyes.
“Password is 'shut up and fuck me, Rick.'”
“That's a mouth full.” Rick laid on his side, staring at the man before him and realizing more and more every second just how damn beautiful he was. That hair that wisped up a little at the ends when he wasn't entirely filthy (and he wasn't right now), the biceps he could see when his shirt stretched just right, the broad shoulders that out-spanned his waist by a mile, those thin-but-very-inviting lips.
God, he'd never done this and he didn't know where to even start. Lori wouldn't even let him consider it, so he didn't even have any similar experience to go on there.
“Roll over,” Daryl said, pushing Rick from his side onto his back. And for once, Rick was happy to let him take the lead. At least until he got his bearings.
Daryl wasted no time in rubbing Rick through his jeans, and damn if he didn't moan like a cheap whore at the feeling of even being touched by something that wasn't his own hand.
Daryl's eyes fluttered close at the sound and he mm'd softly.
“Shit, that's even better than I thought it would be,” Daryl said.
“Reckon that'll be enough for you?” Rick asked, looking down at the outline of his erection. “Get to all them places you were talking about?”
“Mhm,” Daryl said. “Gonna cum for sure.”
Rick nodded.
“When's the last time you had a blowjob?” Daryl asked, and Rick hated that he knew the exact answer.
“On my birthday, about six months before I got shot.”
Lori didn't like big things in her mouth. Made her uncomfortable. Hell, she even cut her food up into little bites. It had been cute when they'd first started dating, but it was one of those habits that bugged the living shit out of him in the later years, especially when she was still working on cutting up her food and he was already finished eating and ready to fucking go home.
Daryl nodded and leaned down, moving Rick's shirt up and licking his tummy right about his jeans. He moved his lips across the entire expanse of skin above Rick's waistband, scooting the denim out of his way so he could suck on the flesh stretched tight over Rick's hip bones, leaving little purple marks above the protrusion.
God, this was gonna be good.
Daryl moved his head down and licked the leather right next to the buckle of Rick's holster belt.
“Love this,” Daryl said. “Drives me fuckin crazy.”
“My belt?”
“Mhm,” Daryl said, running his tongue across the leather from the buckle to the little silver grommets. And fuck, it was kind of turning Rick on even more than actually having Daryl's mouth on his skin.
“Makes your hips look hot as shit slung across 'em like that.”
“Can't believe you wanted me this whole time,” Rick said. “Should have said something sooner, Daryl.”
“Sorry,” Daryl said. “Didn't think you'd go for it or I would've.”
He switched his tongue to the other side, this time letting it trace the leather all the way to his gun holster before flicking it across the little snap that held his gun in place.
And with the hot bloom of want that brought, Rick finally found his sea legs, slipping back into the dominant persona he'd always had with Lori, the same one he'd had with Daryl if only he'd realized sooner what it could have meant.
“Suck on it,” Rick said. “The holster. I want you to suck on it.”
Daryl looked at him with dark blue eyes, pupils wide with lust, and then he leaned down and licked at the slightly pointed leather tip of the holster. He stared at Rick deliberately as he swirled his tongue around it, letting the former cop get a taste of what he would do to his cock in a minute, and then he started taking the thing into his mouth, stretching his lips as the leather widened out. The hunter choked on it, and Rick started to apologize like it was somehow his fault, but Daryl only moaned, forcing it further in as water filled his eyes and spit leaked out and dribbled down his chin, pooling and then falling onto the ratty blanket next to Rick's thigh.
God. Damn.
“Stop,” Rick said, and he sat up, expertly unhooking the holster in a short few seconds before dropping it over to the side in between a half-empty bottle of Jack and a Men's Fitness magazine with some beefy looking shirtless guy splashed across the cover. Rick couldn't tell in that light if the magazine was just damaged or if there was a cum stain on the guy's face. And why did he kind of want to lick it a little if it was the latter?
He eased back down on the blanket and let Daryl take over undoing his jeans, mouthing him through the denim before he unzipped them. Rick arched his hips up while the hunter worked his jeans and underwear down, and then Daryl fucking swallowed him whole without warning, and Rick had to bite the meaty part of his palm to suppress the loud, rough groan that came pouring out of his mouth.
Daryl's mouth was perfect. Rick had forgotten how good it felt just to be inside of something warm and wet, and that was without everything else the hunter was doing. Daryl used his tongue as expertly as he used his bow, swirling it around the head of his cock, lapping at his slit, flicking it against the sensitive spot on the underside. He suckled his balls one at a time, let them each pop out of his mouth with a wet squelch.
“Fuck yes,” Rick sighed, fisting his hands into the blanket. Where Lori had always treated them like a chore, Daryl seemed to be fucking enjoying this blowjob to no end. And fuck, the fucking gagging too. Daryl didn't seem truly happy until he was straight-up choking on Rick's cock with his lips nearly at the base. And Rick sure as shit wasn't gonna complain. Being that deep in Daryl's throat felt fucking fantastic. Hell, he didn't even care if they fucked anymore. This was wonderful.
The hunter looked up at him with wet, spiky lashes, and Rick could just see the smile brightening those sapphire eyes. Daryl pulled off, catching his breath and stroking Rick's spit-soaked cock with his hand.
“Need you,” he said. And Rick nodded. He wasn't going to deny that man shit after that.
“I've never done this, so you'll have to do whatever needs to be done,” Rick said.
“Not a problem,” Daryl said, undoing his jeans and pushing them down. Rick was surprised to find he actually had on underwear today, because Daryl rarely ever did. Anytime they'd undressed for a shower or had to change, Rick would strip to his underwear first while Daryl would let his jeans fall, stark naked from the waist down.
Come to think of it, that was a weird thing for him to have noticed anyway. Maybe he was gayer (bi-er?) than he thought.
Daryl shimmied the rest of the way out of his jeans and undies, working them over his boots and tossing them up against the wall of the low wall of the roof, and then he crawled over into the corner, shifting some stuff around like he was looking for something in his stash of random goodies.
Rick watched, unable to keep his eyes off the little pink pucker of Daryl's ass peeking out from within the cleft. Kicking his boots and jeans off the rest of the way, Rick rolled onto his knees and put his hands up without a second thought, grabbing Daryl's cheeks and spreading them open so he could look at it better. Daryl glanced back at him over his shoulder, patiently letting him knead and squeeze and take it all in with his eyes.
God, that looks... tight.
Rick moaned a little just at the thought.
“If you wanna do it, I can tell you how,” Daryl said.
He didn't know what “it” was, but yes, please.
“Okay,” Rick said, and Daryl reached his arm back, offering him a little bottle. Rick took it and Daryl reversed crawled back out onto the main part of the blanket, leaning down onto his elbows with his ass straight up in the air.
“Gotta stretch me open before you fuck me,” Daryl said. “Otherwise it fuckin' hurts. I like a little hurt, but not...yeah.”
“How do I do that?”
“With your fingers,” Daryl said.
Rick looked down at his hand and then at the bottle.
“If you ain't comfortable, I can do it,” Daryl said, and Rick shook his head looking back at Daryl's ass. No, he definitely wanted to play with that.
He popped open the bottle of lube and squeezed a little onto his fingers.
“One at a time,” Daryl said. “Tell ya when you can add another.”
Rick pressed his index against Daryl's entrance, and the hunter flinched away.
“Not that hard,” Daryl said. “You gotta ease it. Same with your dick later.”
“Sorry,” Rick said, and he grabbed Daryl's hips, pulling them back where he wanted them so he could try again. This time he teased a little before gently pushing, wondering if Daryl's body would stop resisting or if it just kind of did that the whole time.
But at some point his finger seemed to make it past some invisible barrier, and it slid in the rest of the way like butter, swallowing it in to the knuckle. Well, that answered that question.
Rick slowly moved it inside of the other man, assuming that's what he should do and that if it wasn't, Daryl would say something. He was pleasantly surprised when he found Daryl rocking back onto it, letting out the shortest, quietest little moans Rick had ever heard, each one a single, barely-audible little “m.”
It was pretty damn adorable actually.
“Nother,” Daryl said, and so Rick maneuvered his middle finger inside too. He started trying to memorize the way Daryl felt inside, moving his digits around the inner walls of his entrance, marveling at the texture, similar but slightly different to what he was used to. His fingers brushed over something a little harder than everything else, and Daryl bucked, his quiet “m” turning into a slightly louder, “mmm.”
“That's something, huh?” Rick asked, rubbing that little spot in a circle and admiring the way Daryl slowly balled the blanket up in his fists and rocked against his movements. He couldn't help but reach down and grab his own cock with his other hand, stroking loosely as he watched the hunter come undone with every little rotation.
“Feels good, but you need to st-o-op, oh fuck.” Daryl whimpered. “Don't wanna get close yet.”
Ah. Rick backed off.
“Kinda scissor your fingers a bit. Stretch me open so you can fuck me.”
Rick did as he said, V-ing his fingers wide, admiring the way Daryl's asshole gaped when he he did it, staring inside of the other man and knowing he was going to get to slide into that space in a minute, that it was going to be his cock making him sweat and tremble like he had a few seconds ago instead of his fingers. Shit, he had to "mm" at that himself.
Finally, Daryl seemed satisfied with whatever progress they'd made. He looked back at him over his shoulder.
“Stop,” Daryl said. “Can't wait anymore. Hell, been waitin years for you already.”
Rick pulled his fingers out, trying to push down the little electric waves of excitement now coursing through his whole body. He was finally going to get laid. And he was going to fucking enjoy the fuck out of it too.
He wiped his digits clean by spreading the leftover lube onto his cock, and then he added a little more, slicking up his erection and hoping he'd used enough.
“Can't believe I never realized how fucking gorgeous you are,” Rick said.
“I ain't,” Daryl said. “You're just desperate.”
“Are too.” Rick pressed the head of his erection against Daryl's stretched out asshole and pushed, willing it past that spot of resistance but trying not to force either. And, oh God, when he finally did slip inside, it was pure fucking bliss. He sighed in pleasure at the same time that Daryl moaned.
“Don't move yet,” Daryl said. “Need just a second.”
Rick bit his lip. Don't move. Don't move when everything is so hot and goddamn fucking tight. It took every ounce of willpower for Rick to take control of his hips again before they could buck of their own accord. He waited patiently while Daryl adjusted, wiggling just a little.
“Okay,” Daryl said. “Fuck me.”
Rick didn't have to be told twice. He pulled out, leaving just the head of his cock inside and then he rolled his hips, sliding back in.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Rick said, starting to build a slow rhythm, holding onto Daryl's hips. Shit, if he was being completely honest, Daryl felt better than anyone or anything he'd ever stuck his cock into in his entire life.
He felt Daryl buck back onto him, pushing his ass toward Rick's pelvis. So he wanted it harder. Rick could damn well do harder.
He picked up his pace, thrusting into Daryl until the hunter was a groaning mess underneath him, shoving back into his every movement and begging him not to stop.
“Oh, I won't,” Rick said, burying his length in the other man again and again, his sweaty hands sliding on the skin of Daryl's hips.
“Gonna...can't...soon,” Daryl said, reaching down and wrapping his own hand around his cock. Rick leaned over and pulled it away, replacing it with his own. They'd all done enough touching of themselves lately. Was what started this whole thing in the first place. The least he could do for the man currently alleviating all of his mounting frustrations was let him have his hand instead. Rick milked the hunter while he fucked, matching the pace and enjoying every single sigh and moan and curse word he pulled out of Daryl's lips.
“Shit, gonna cum soon too,” Rick said. He could already feel his balls drawing up, getting ready to spurt his orgasm right into Daryl's willing body.
“Fuck,” Daryl whined. “Fuckin fill me with it, Rick.”
“Only after you cum,” Rick said, giving his hand a gentle twist around the head of Daryl's cock. The hunter looked back at him, biting his lip, his moans escaping through his nose. Rick watched his face go from mostly smooth to completely fucking wrecked, the entire thing screwing up before his mouth shot wide open and he groaned loud, his cock twitching in Rick's hand.
“There you fucking go,” Rick said, catching a little on his fingers and tasting it curiously. Salty and a little bitter. Not something he would crave, but definitely something he wouldn't mind swallowing down if Daryl was into that.
“Your turn,” Daryl said
“Tell me how much you wanted me. What did you fantasize about?”
“In the beginning, kind of just wanted to lure you into the woods. Would think about you pushing me up against a tree and just railin me,” Daryl said.
Rick closed his eyes, letting Daryl's words float into his ears, picturing it all like his own personal porno.
“Don't stop,” Rick said.
“Used to imagine you coming into my tent at night, not sayin a word but just crawling on top of me and takin what you wanted, what we both wanted.”
Rick groaned, thrusting into Daryl harder and harder as the hunter talked. Rick was so close, literally teetering with one foot over the fucking edge.
“Used to imagine you handcuffing me to the bed in your cell and fucking my mouth.”
“Oh fuck,” Rick said, the word dragging on for an eternity while his cock twitched his load right into Daryl's hole. He fanned himself across the hunter's back, panting against his shoulder blade, feeling his erection slowly soften inside of him while he caught his breath.
“Jesus, Daryl,” he said, when his breathing had finally slowed and he let himself slip out, unable to ignore the cum that dribbled out when he did. “Thank you.”
Daryl rolled over onto his back, seemingly not giving a shit that he was leaking Rick's semen all over the blanket. God, if Rick did need to jerk off after this, that image would fucking do it for him for sure.
“You start getting hungry again,” Daryl said, “you know who to look for.”
“That goes both ways,” Rick said. “Don't think you can't come find me just cuz I haven't come to you. But, shit, I'll probably be back tomorrow.”
“Fine with me,” Daryl said, lifting his head up to cross his arms underneath it, the whole action stretching out the muscles in his chest just beautifully even under the shirt he hadn't bothered taking off. Rick reached over and touched, because how could he not?
Well, if I ain't bi, then Daryl's one hell of a fucking exception.
“What did Carol say back there?” he asked, brushing his fingers over Daryl's covered rib cage.
“Asked if you needed your sheets washed,” Daryl said, watching Rick's hand explore his torso. “Guess you did well enough answerin.”
“I thought she'd asked about dinner,” Rick said. “Couldn't even think.”
“Well, you were close,” Daryl teased, and Rick used his hand to pop him on the stomach.
“Fuck you, Daryl.” No, but seriously, I want to fuck you even more.
“Need to finish clearin that fence so we can check the snares before somethin else does.”
“Probably,” Rick said, sighing and sitting up, looking over at Daryl with his lip between his teeth. “Can I just do one thing first?”
“Sure,” Daryl said, sitting up too. “Whatever you want.”
He reached over and cupped Daryl's chin, leaning in slow before pressing their lips together, figuring it couldn't be that much different. But it was. Daryl's lips were less full and less tender, his face scratchy and rough. But he used what he had so well, letting their mouths flow together, his tongue writhing against Rick's in perfect waves.
Damn, Rick should've started with that.
The former cop pulled away and punctuated his kiss with a wet little peck, and then he found his clothes, tugging his jeans and his boots back on before wrapping his belt around his waist. His gun holster was still wet with little patches of spit the air hadn't quiet claimed yet, and Rick left it that way, wishing that even those would never dry. And by the time he'd looked up from fastening the difficult buckle, he found Daryl dressed too.
“Where's your bow?” Rick asked. Damn, he really must have been distracted to not notice Daryl's bow hadn't come up here with them.
“Left it leaning against the inner fence,” Daryl said, blushing a little. And Rick couldn't help but smile. Looks like they were both in another world there for a second.
He stood up and offered his hand to Daryl, pulling him off the ground, and together, the two of them made their way back to the fence. They took up the same positions they had been in earlier and worked side-by-side, a team just like they had been from almost the beginning. Just now it was in more ways than one.