Chapter 1: Rippin' Throats
Notes:
We need more Daryl x Male OC fics. This is my second one & mainly to be used as a bit of fun when I am not writing my main long fic, which is the Outdoor Cat & Indoor Dog. That story is more serious & canon-adherent than this. This story is me playing in a sandbox!
Dedicated to my favorite commenter! Thank you for always being there with an inspiring word & to gush over my story!
This will be a short fic (edit: No, it turned into a medium length one, lol) about Daryl finding animalistic love with a cold bodied nerd. There will be some vampiric lore thrown in while other parts are turned on its head. Also a werewolf or two down the road! Need to work out what tags will be added, but some will be explicit. Please know that current tags are NOT complete though.
Fic Playlist
Pack travel song/ Bijou & Taylon's walker song - Good Omens Opening/Intro
Pack Song/General Vampiring - Good Omens End Titles/Outro
Taylon - Let Me Be With You (Chobits theme) & Just Haven't Met You Yet (Buble), & By Your Side (Little Vampire theme) & mainly Teddybear, but also Best Friend or Tarzan and Jane (Toy-Box)
Vampire-Daryl - You’re Dead (Norma Tanega - WWDITS theme) & Accidentally In Love (Smash Mouth)
Malifus - Lust Of Power (Gabriel Saban)
Bijou - Rasputin (Boney M) & A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square (Tori Amos version)
Shori - Caramelldansen
Adelaide - Queen of the Vampires
Chapter Text
Daryl wonders how they ended up on their knees waiting to die.
Granted, he has every intention not to die. He will swing his fists at the first opening and put up a hell of a fight. He is waiting for Rick to lead the charge, although if the sheriff waits much longer he will probably say fuck it and try to headbutt the nearest guy to him.
The bit of fabric tightly gagging him gives him something to bite on. He wishes it was one of these bastards instead.
Terminus… the clue is in the name, right? Terminate us. A place to come and be killed as part of their sick slaughterhouse. People had devolved more than he thought possible but there is no denying it is true. Not while kneeling on the cold concrete waiting for that possible last breath.
As Daryl shifts his knees a fraction of an inch, readying himself to move, there is a burst of terrified screams from the courtyard and alleys. Before Daryl rises to his feet, he catches the shift to blood curdling before the scream cuts off with a sickening and fatal abruptness.
With a tension-cutting shatter, the door slams open and three figures stride in towards them. Already Daryl and Rick are going for the Terminus bastards, but now they have newcomers to contend with, and everyone’s attention shifts briefly to the unexpected intrusion.
Two men and one woman in layers of clothes, with the appearance of survivors but the swagger of thrivers. All terribly pale though. The dark haired man in the center is tall and has a debonair air, wearing a black duster jacket reaching near the floor. Flanking him is a widely grinning blond woman in a leather skirt and layers of ripped tights in a rainbow of colors. Her jacket flares out at the back like a pair of suit tails with curves, and her blouse shows off ample cleavage. The last one is the least attention grabbing of the lot. Unassuming looking almost. His clothes looked formal in a way - black dress pants that clung tightly to thin legs, a jacket over a white button-up shirt, black scarf knotted in place of a tie. He is the only one with any concern resting on his diamond shaped face. Startlingly, his eyes are a pale lavender, framed above by choppy, short, pale blond hair that is just long enough to fall into his eyes.
They have swaths of dried blood on their fronts, but it does not exactly look like walker camouflage. There are no guts, brains, or sinew, just stains of dried blood. Old, dark blood. Still it could be a disguise against walkers - who knows what people are willing to use these days.
It is as good a time as any to continue fighting, but their raw, vicious outburst is thrown aside by the new trio as easily as a child might get thrown aside by an uncaring adult. Bob slams into the wall and is knocked half on his ass, while the rest of them barely manage to stay upright.
“You have been found wanting of your humanity.” States the central pale figure clearly and with great authority while staring at the Terminus men, lips set in a firm line that only wavers from a hint of disgust.
“And the penalty is death!” The lone woman among them says far too chipperly.
The third one heads towards Daryl, Rick, Glenn, and Bob, before spinning around. “It’s alright.” He remarks firmly. “I’ll protect you.”
Daryl was about to pummel the bastard either way, except the door opens and a Terminus resident with dirt streaks on their face rushes in. She takes aim at the pale figure before them and Daryl realizes how vulnerable they are here without guns, not to mention restrained. His crossbow is gone and the lack of weight is like having a missing limb.
Daryl knows he hears the gunshot aimed right at them. He heard it and saw the flash. But he does not understand what happens next.
The man in front of them unclenches a fist that Daryl swears was not up a second ago. A bullet falls from his open palm and hits the floor. Daryl’s mouth goes dry. There’s no way…
“That’s unkind.” States the man with a minorly irked tone, like he is speaking to a child that said a bad word instead of a murderous adult.
The other two have disarmed the Terminus folks and one - the woman - lunges for the newcomer in the doorway with a gun. To Daryl’s sickened shock, she goes for her neck and blood gushes abruptly from a sharp, artery-exposing, deep break. Snapped like a chicken wing, the woman dies instantly.
Then Daryl looks at their ‘guardian’ of sorts and realizes his mouth is open, panting like a dog while watching the rupturing arteries. Pearlescent white teeth catch the dim light, particularly two especially long canines.
Inhumanly long fang-like teeth, Daryl realizes.
He glances to the other pair, who each continue to move against the downed Terminus men. Their attackers are viciously dispatched, though instead of rising when the job is done the man and woman persist in pressing their mouths to the necks of the limp bodies in a perplexing display.
Their guardian says quietly, looking between the flummoxed four men. “Let’s get you free then, gentlemen.” He pulls out a knife and though Daryl mentally winces when he approaches, it is only used to saw through his wrist bindings, then Rick’s, and so on. They take their gags off as they are freed, dropping them to the floor.
“Taylon, I left you one.” The woman shouts to their supposed guardian, pointing at a dazed man in the corner.
Daryl stares at them and realizes what looked so odd when they fought - it was barehanded. In the rush of the moment he could not understand it. Now though, he sees no weapons except a few knives dangling off belts. The tall, leaderly one has a sword like Michonne’s but it stayed holstered the whole fight. No guns, despite rolling in here like the hell’s angels.
“I will wait. We have good humans here.” Their strange guardian says strictly, still standing before the four of them. He says it strangely, like he is apart from that. Aside from being paler than anyone ought to be in Georgia he looks normal. His two companions with bloodied mouths hardly do, though.
Even with Bob looking sick to his stomach from hitting the wall and being knocked for a loop, they still have one extra guy on them. Yet they do not attack. Daryl wonders if Rick saw what he did with the bullet. He wonders exactly what the hell he thinks he saw.
“We shall see. Less cruel than these, at any rate.” The dark haired tall man in the duster answers matter of factly while giving a kick to the body of the man he has finished sucking. He sports blood down to his chin, making the action undeniable. Then his head turns, piercing dark gaze settling on the four of them. “Are there more of you?”
Rick says nothing so neither does anyone else. Daryl stares at his mouth, noticing the woman has the same horrific face paint.
“I will not ask again. Are there more of you?” The stern figure demands while leaning in with a firm stare.
After a moment, Rick nods silently.
Instead of keeping his harsh stare on them, it turns to their pale blond headed guardian. “Reunite them. Supply them. Keep them safe until we are ready to go, then we turn them loose.” He gives Rick a look as if to say that is the agreement; no substitutions, no questions asked.
“What makes you the one callin’ the shots?” Daryl cannot help but remark with a hint of snark.
“We saved you, for one.” The woman pipes up with a pouty lip jutting forward and agitation lacing her words.
“Bijou…” Their peculiar protector, who flicks his tongue across his upper teeth hungrily, sounds disapproving but soft as he chides her.
The tallest of the lot does not even glance at his two companions before looking Daryl square in the face. “Because, human, you are living in our world now.” Then he nods to the woman. “Come, Bijou.”
“Well, if he won’t finish his off… Do let a girl have a nosh, won’t you?” She practically purrs it, getting a flippant nod before their supposed leader leaves.
“I shall surely still be hungry later.” Their guardian sounds oddly sullen as she prances over to the only Terminus attacker to still have their throat intact. That barely lasts a minute and Daryl winces as the sound of flesh ripping and a final gargle is more prominent in a silent room when the rest of the fighting has died down.
“Yes, you will.” Bijou half giggles and half gurgles out the words in blood, lips covered in glistening ruby red.
After a pout in her direction, he angles himself back towards the four of them. “I apologize for any emotional distress from that.” Their more dapperly attired guardian states, like he is the worst customer service agent in the history of the apocalypse. “Shall I assume your people are the others in that same big boxcar they dragged you out of?” He waits for Rick to glance at the others and then nod before speaking again. “Good, then let’s get them out.”
He leads them out the way they had come in, leaving behind the madwoman who is still biting into that neck with a walker’s desire, but a human’s ferocity and energy. Daryl swears she is actually slurping the stuff up and he wants to vomit. Honestly, who knows if this is better or worse than the Terminus lot, but at least they seem to not want to kill them right away.
He glances at Rick, knowing he is thinking the same thing; Wondering if that lunatic is serious about being willing to let them go. If nothing else they have gone from one problem to the next, just a little differently shaped.
Still, they get to the boxcar and the barrier to the door is removed. Their people come forward, but neither Daryl nor Rick nor Glenn moves to embrace anyone. They all keep the half suited, light haired stranger in their sights.
“Hello.” The lone stranger says to them all, getting bland stares in return. “I think you all should get something to eat. I’m sure these people have a kitchen with some scavenged supplies.”
Rick gives the others a look to back off. Trying to silently convey that these are not saviors. Not really.
“Who are you?” Maggie asks when nobody else will.
“One of the good guys.” Taylon smiles at her, yielding a flash of those especially long fangs. “My name is Taylon - like Taylor but with an n. Now, I’m sure you’re thirsty. We have no need of food and water so you will take all this place has.”
Someone lets out a sharp, begging scream nearby before gurgling into sudden nothingness. It makes them all go still for a second.
“I suppose there are a few hidden around still. It might be a little uncomfortable for a while.” He almost sounds apologetic, like a tour guide that knows this is a bum trip. “We will endeavor to keep you safe.”
“Why?” Daryl growls out, willing to ask the million dollar question when everyone stares at Taylon like they could just jump him and run right now.
“You show very little darkness in you, making you worth saving. Humanity is a bit off kilter, if you have not noticed.” Taylon says it a tiny bit pointedly.
“And you’re gonna solve it all on your own?” Abraham snarkily interjects.
“No, there are many factions working, as we always have done in the shadows of your world. Except now we no longer have to live in shadow.” Then he inclines his head in the direction they had come from before. “Malifus can answer your questions better than I can, but the long and the short of it is we are cleaning house of the bad and ensuring the good live.”
“The guy from before?” Rick asks when the stranger drops a name. Taylon nods in affirmation.
“That yer leader?” Daryl asks while they are pressing the guy for information, though it hardly seems to bother him.
“Yes.” Taylon nods once. “And you ought to know we have come from the north where there are proper sanctuary cities. Not houses of lies like this.”
“Where?” Rick asks sharply.
“Further north, like Virginia. Right where the winters are proper cold.” Taylon answers without delay or any hint of lie, but he is rather polite and punctual. Who knows if he is being honest, because frankly this whole group sounds deranged.
“How safe?” Tara asks quietly.
“Walled. Some have amenities. Most are in cleared areas. We are responsible for this section of the country.” He clasps his hands before him. “So, shall we?” He then waits for at least a few of them to move to follow him before leading the way as they exchange incredulous looks behind his back.
Daryl spots Glenn mouthing to Maggie ‘ They think they’re vampires.’ Then doubtful, shocked looks are swapped between them.
It sure as hell seemed like they had a fucked up belief. Maybe it was a defense against the horrors going on in the world now to pretend to be something as bad. Hell, Daryl is no shrink, but he knows you need to be some kind of nuts to believe that enough to bite somebody’s throat out.
They oughta be sick. Can’t be healthy drinking raw blood. Daryl thinks to himself while frowning as they slowly walk behind their pale but polite guardian. One thing that bothers him is the bullet that Taylon dropped during the fight. It had seemed exactly like that was the bullet fired by the woman from Terminus.
Nobody could actually catch a bullet like that though.
Has to be a trick. Daryl wonders what the hell kind of trick involves ripping people’s throats out though.
They pass the woman from earlier and Taylon calls to her, “Would you be so kind as to find them blankets?”
“It never ends!” Bijou scowls but wanders off, supposedly in search of blankets.
Someone with fingerless gloves and a leather jacket looks up as they approach. “That’s a lot of humans!” The stranger is dressed like he belongs with the peculiar group and Daryl notes only a knife on his belt. Definitely under-armed. “Their kitchen is here!”
“Thank you, Ferdinand.” To the group he says simply, “Come.” Taylon tells them, leading the group along. The kitchen is not like the slaughtering area. Although the meat is questionable looking, there is a pantry full of food and a supply of water and juice bottles, even some liquor. Rick and Daryl go through most of it, passing what they can use to their people to carry.
“You really don’t want any?” Rick asks doubtfully, hiding the distrust in his eyes rather than his words.
“No need for anything but blood.” Taylon shakes his head, leaning in the doorframe. “I miss food sometimes.” Taylon comments idly while they search. It is a sort of strange remark that sets Daryl’s teeth on edge.
Still, whatever is in the Terminus pantry is worth taking, except for the meat of course. That sickens him to see.
“We will have to find you a place to kip down.”
As they walk back through the very streets that they had run through earlier, they pass the boxcars. Four Terminus residents are being marched inside it, weaponless and limping.
“Don’t worry. We just need the food come morning.” Taylon assures them while turning to Rick and Daryl. “They will not harm you again.”
Food?
“How different does that make you to them?” Maggie quietly asks the question that had been forming in Daryl’s mind at that moment.
“They kill indiscriminately. We kill with purpose.” Taylon is firm on that point, sounding settled and set in it. He nods to them. “I will endeavor to see where you can spend the night. Excuse me.”
Everyone looks to Rick, who shakes his head slightly. After they were literally led to the slaughter by the Terminus residents and their dead-end maze, Daryl understands why Rick is hesitant to take an obvious looking chance to run. Even if he itches to bolt, he stays put. If the Terminus group could do what they did, then these crazy fucks would have them with ease if this was just a trap to make them run like they had earlier today.
When Taylon appears, he smiles with minor surprise and gestures to a building. “This is suitably large enough for everyone, come along.”
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Chapter 2: Between A Crossbow & A Hard Face
Chapter Text
They bring their people along tentatively, though he can almost feel Rick weighing the pros of running. He flanks the sheriff, side eyeing him cautiously but Rick does not make a move to run. His stare flits about the area, constantly assessing, but he stays on course following Taylon.
They follow the strange people into one of the Terminus buildings. It is like a wide open gymnasium, though devoid of religious writings and candles. There is a pile of dropped blankets on the ground, but otherwise the space is rather bare.
Taylon moves aside for them to enter. Daryl notes how Rick steps to the side, trying to keep distance between the two groups. “There is a bathroom through there.” Their guardian points towards the other doorway out of the room, on the far wall. In that old world, polite way he adds, “It would be appreciated if you stay here tonight and minimize the trouble your group causes.”
The building that Taylon gestures to gets peered into with great care before anyone enters. Everyone is still on edge and for whatever reason, he is not pushing. Perhaps he knows he does not have to - their options are limited. Daryl is wondering if they should have tried to run, even if he is wary of these unusual people.
His lack of crossbow comes to mind. His shoulder feels light and bare without its weight. Well before the walkers rose, that weapon had been on him almost every day for years. Maybe they’d let us raid wherever they put our shit. Since they had been allowed to take from the kitchen he does wonder, but Daryl bites his tongue on asking as he suspects they will not want to give weapons to them. Who would?
He will have to go a night without it, irritatingly. We got our hands though. Daryl reminds himself they are hardly defenseless, and hell, that group sure as shit did alright with just hands. Still, he knows he will not grow settled until he gets a few weapons back on him, particularly his crossbow.
The space is two open stories and appears fairly empty, like a gymnasium. Two exits - the door they are at and one far across the space that looks like it leads further into the building. Though, the open area takes up the main part of the space so it is likely nooks and crannies. Decently defendable.
“Mon chéri!” The madwoman called Bijou calls sweetly while waving over to their guardian. She approaches with her fist gripping the arm of a bloody man with wild, glazed eyes. He is bleeding heavily at his side where a gouge has been ripped from him. It is a miracle he is upright, barely breathing as she drags him along. “I brought you an apéritif.”
“I think it would upset them.” Taylon states without pause. “Particularly the little ones. Take them in there and I will have a respite.” Taylon then has to push as she looks on doubtfully, “Please?”
“Fine.” She turns grouchily to the group and remarks. “Come, my little petit fours.”
“Don’t call them that.” Taylon answers crisply while moving away from the group. He grips the shoulder of the half falling over Terminus man, allowing the bewildering woman to release him, breeze by, and wave at the rest of them. She saunters into the gymnasium-like space and after getting a nod from Rick, their people start to follow.
Daryl lingers back, watching their people - and a few new ones he does not recognize - slowly enter the room. Most hesitate. He turns slightly, watching their supposed guardian drag the man a respectful enough distance. Just behind a building’s corner, but all Daryl needs to do is step sideways and he has a solid viewpoint.
Taylon drags the stunned looking Terminus guard and Daryl’s eyes widen. He cups the man’s cheeks tenderly and stares into his half-dead eyes before he says something - just a little thing. Daryl swears he recognizes ‘sorry’ but he cannot read lips well enough to know anything more. Hell, just getting ‘sorry’ was impressive.
Then Daryl sees his thin lips pull back and those weird fangs sharpen in intensity, almost lengthening. They have to be fake though, so how they can change like that unnerves him. His heartbeat quickens when Taylon holds up the body as the man slumps, maybe half dead already.
His breath stills as Taylon plunges those inhuman teeth into the man’s neck. Unlike the others earlier, he sees Taylon from a side view. He can see the fangs sink into flesh all the way to his gums as easily as a hot knife through butter. Then Taylon’s mouth locks onto the throat. With his back finally turning, Daryl hears a keening moan of a hungry man finally tasting a meal, and it chills Daryl to his bones.
When Daryl turns back he catches Glenn at his elbow, ashen faced and gaping like a fish. He knows the younger man is trying to make sense of it all. He hung back and watched, too. Neither says a word to the other. Glenn steps inside, and Daryl stands protectively by the door. Whatever is going on, they need someone on guard.
He stands beside the door on the inside though, feeling clammy and unwell. Unwilling to be too near to… them.
The thought of being outside near people like that is different to Gareth. It is not pushed to the brink of humanity, it is devoid of it. There is something god awful about the way they bite into necks.
Daryl’s spine stiffens into a rod as he hears the measured steps on the gravel. One of them approachin’. He turns his head and waits, but sees only Taylon enter while wiping his mouth with two fingertips. Bloodless, and without any tells except for a quick flick of tongue across a still lengthy canine that appears with a brief parting of his lips.
“Are you…. Are you vampires?” Glenn asks in a half-awed babble, confusion saturating his words. He has not gone far from Daryl since they entered the room last.
“So you have heard of us?” Bijou remarks from well across the room with a pleased and amused croon.
Taylon crosses his arms idly over his chest, responding to her rather than Glenn. “I told you about movies, and Dracula.”
“I thought that was une plaisanterie - a joke, as you say.” Bijou answers while tipping her head back and cackling at the absurdity. “Humans are so silly!”
“You actually… think you’re vampires?” Maggie says while sounding as if she had tried to swallow down those words, but confused surprise forces them through.
“We do not think, we are.” Another says while entering the room and it unsettles Daryl immensely that he heard no footsteps. Maybe he is losing his touch. That makes six of them, s’ far. Worse, this new brunette one looks more akin to the new redheaded meathead in their own group, except with dark hair and the same unsettling paleness as the rest of them. His eyes are akin to lime green, though far more pale. Daryl is not far from him and can see the odd coloring, wondering how the hell these nutjobs have colored contacts. Who bothers with egotistical garbage like that?
“Look at their little brains. Oh, they must have snapped. The world is toying with their mind, they’re thinking.” Bijou says with a shake of her head, teasing her voice as if mimicking a frightened, generic American accent. Tara had just taken the last blanket from the pile, which Bijou stands near, but now she backs away and stares. Then Bijou returns to her initial lilting French accent. “No, my pet. We have been here for centuries in the shadow of your world and now it is finally as it should be.”
“A world of the dead.” Taylon adds as if that explains it, but it only builds on the confusion in Daryl’s mind. “But Bijou, do not mock them. It is a great deal to come to terms with.”
“More than the dead reanimating to eat the living?” Bijou snarkily answers.
“She has a point.” The newcomer that Daryl had identified as the sixth of the group pipes up with a smirk in Taylon’s direction.
Taylon meets Rick’s eyes and Daryl swears he catches a tired apology in them that the sheriff nods slightly to, even if his brows push together a little in confusion over it. Then the supposed vampire informs Rick, clearly finding him as the leader. “You should eat and rest for the night.”
“And then?”
“When we leave here come morning, Malifus will dismiss you from this place as well. Keep surviving.” Taylon is short and sweet in his answer, though Daryl knows he heard the leader declare that. He could easily be knowingly backing up a lie.
“We go our separate ways?” Rick asks to clarify, keeping his stare on Taylon like he is trying to find a twitch or a muscle out of place. Any sort of tell of a lie.
“That is how it always is.” Taylon answers simply without wavering.
“Ya do this a lot?” Daryl mutters doubtfully from a couple of yards away. Lunatics.
“Yes.” Taylon actually smiles when he says that, glancing in the hunter’s direction. “As I said, we are the good guys. That is part of our rules.”
Anyone that tells you that is probably worth keeping an eye on. A group ripping out throats hardly seems like ‘good guy’ material, but their entire modus operandi befuddles Daryl. They seem insane, but are worryingly calm and organized. At least the woman is definitely mad.
Sort of like the Claimers, who Daryl had not soon forgotten. Malifus was somewhat like Joe, though he wielded his control without the egotistical delight and fucking smarminess. Except Daryl knew it would be a problem the second their group got on the wrong side of that ‘code.’
“We had things taken from us. By them.” Rick tells Taylon in a low voice and it makes Daryl perk up his attention, knowing this would be the chance to get his crossbow back.
Taylon nods to him, turning to the sixth one with those disturbingly pale green eyes. “Stay here and guard them, Vin?”
“I’ll go with ya.” Daryl volunteers to Rick quickly. He avoids Glenn’s gaping, concerned expression but catches sight of it. He knows the kid is rattled from what they saw and likely from the fact that Taylon is eerily calm after… well, whatever the hell he did. Daryl is still uncertain what he saw but his doubts are growing just a tad quieter.
Still loud enough to snarl.
He and Rick share a wary glance, but he can tell from the lack of shakiness in Rick’s stare that the sheriff must not have seen Taylon, or his fangs sinking into that man. He has the privilege of quieter doubts than the hunter.
“I may know where your things are.” Taylon tells them while musing. “We passed a room of innumerable objects.” He waves them on and Rick follows, with Daryl hot on his heels.
“When you came in?” Rick asks quietly while sharing a glance with Daryl. Their people might have stumbled in but this group had basically broken down the front door; They entered clearly knowing something was wrong about this place.
“Yes.”
Taylon offers no more and they arrive at their destination then, putting a stopper in the conversation. Just one building over. He pushes open the door and peeks in first, which lets Daryl get a glance at heaping mounds of items. Bags, watches, glasses… so much from so many people. The vicious trophies of Terminus.
Taylon enters and three of his people look up. Distressingly, only one is not new to Daryl - the leather clad one that he recalls was called Ferdinand. These two new figures are women, but they hardly look meek or docile. One wields a baseball bat on her waist that bears a dried, bloodied end. Taylon joins them at a table, leaving him and Rick to their own devices.
They start to grab what they recognize - stolen clothes and the few trinkets they still have. Maggie’s gold necklace hangs on the very end of a track of dozens of necklaces and Rick snatches it, shoving it in his pocket. They are both looking more for their guns and in Daryl’s case, his crossbow.
Daryl glances over at their guardian, wanting to keep an eagle eye on him too. Instead his lips curl distastefully as Taylon lifts up a very familiar metal weapon off the table. He raises it with too much ease, turning it around as if it has no heft while inspecting it.
“Tha’s mine!” Daryl barks from across the room, rounding on the man that has his weapon. As soon as the words leave his mouth, the two women angle themselves towards him into a fighter’s stance.
Instead of a heavy reaction like his peers, Taylon’s peculiarly colored stare settles onto the crossbow before flitting over to Daryl’s face with surprising calmness. “Of course, if it is yours then here.” He walks across the room as if there is no tension and holds out the crossbow, which Daryl cannot help but snatch back.
As he turns to the sheriff, expecting a rebuke, instead he sees Rick’s gaze is fixated on one table. Its surface is mainly guns and ammunition.
One corner of that table is full of their guns, and he recognizes not only his but Glenn and Bob’s guns too. When Daryl looks back to the weapon table that the pretend vampires are standing around, he recognizes Michonne’s katana resting atop some melee weapons. The two women have returned to thumbing through the weaponry but hardly seem to be piling up anything to take. It is almost reminiscent of window shopping.
Rick puts two guns on his belt before taking a few more in hand and approaching Taylon. “These are ours.” His voice is firm.
“Well, good on you for finding them.” Taylon answers simply.
“I mean is your leader gonna attack us if he sees us armed?” Rick restates his concern plainly yet stiffly when Taylon seems to have his meaning go right over his little blond head.
The less modestly dressed of the women snickers a little.
“Ah no. We could care less if you have guns or whatever your choice weapon is.” Taylon is too uncaring about it. That just sets the hairs on the back of Daryl’s neck to rise. Nobody lets a captive wander around with weapons. It makes no sense.
“Why no guns?” Daryl asks what has been bothering him. Not one of their people appears to have a gun, when every damn living soul ought to have one these days. Even with his affinity for his crossbow, with its reload time sometimes he needs a gun. After the Governor and the Claimers he knows how vital a gun is against the less desirable livings too. So how could this lot roam in without them and take down an operation like Terminus?
How can they invite Rick to take his gun and Daryl his crossbow, without any serious weapons themselves?
“Just the sight of a gun invites a certain distrust, and we don’t need them.” Taylon responds simply. “You can search me if you don’t believe me.”
Hell, Rick actually gives him a brief pat down. He bends over to check around Taylon’s legs and back, before coming back up. Rick pats his chest and pauses, prompting the stranger to open his black jacket and pull out a silver flask. “That’s all.”
“Not even for protection - from walkers and people?” Rick asks while stepping back, satisfied with his search though one would not think so from the frown he is sporting. Daryl sees how the sheriff is struggling to make sense of this puzzle too.
“It is faster when you show them.” The black as night headed woman showing her cleavage states disinterestedly.
“Yes, please, get it over with,” follows up the other woman with minor irritation.
“Fine then.” Taylon states before… well, disappearing.
The hell did he go?!
There is no other way for Daryl to explain it. One second the man is there, the next Daryl is staring at emptiness and wondering what the fuck kind of drugs he is on and when the hell he did them. Then a bit of black flitters and the movement catches his eye. A bat?
Then the bat nears the ground and Daryl outright jumps. Like some twisted magic trick, there the casually suited, pale man stands once more. Right before him, when there damn well was nothing there a second ago. “Human form - bat form.” Taylon says firmly but clearly, like a parent showing a child something simple yet all new to them. “Ah… no, you’re still surprised. Again then.” With that, Taylon disappears before them once more. Daryl had been watching wide eyed, unblinking. There is no mistaking the sudden emptiness, save for a little creature in the air.
Daryl’s suddenly as queasy as the time he ate a gas station burrito three days past its expiration date and ended up shitting in a bush for most of the next day. Hell no…
Rick backs up until he hits the wall.
Taylon returns before them in all the speed of a snap of one’s fingers. He puts up his hands, palms open and up. “Now, now.” He speaks softly.
Daryl immediately points his crossbow at him. “The fuck are you?!” He growls out while keeping a steady aim as his reality shakes within him. There is no mistaking it when it happens only feet away from you - he was there, then a bat was, and then back again just like magic.
He was... no... Bats?
“Exactly what we have said from the start, without lying or dishonesty.” Taylon remains measured and eerily calm, particularly for someone with a deadly weapon shoved in their face. “Take a deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth.”
The hell is this?
Deciding they could fight their way out if needs be, Daryl flicks his gaze to Rick’s stunned, befuddled stare, before he pulls the trigger of his crossbow while keeping it aimed at Taylon’s face as he thinks it is time to down these fuckers. Hell, the disappearing trick makes him feel like his skin has been flayed off him, yet he still breathes - attacking feels like the only thing that can make it right.
Instead, Daryl’s bolt bounces off Taylon’s goddamn cheek and hits the floor like a child’s toy.
Chapter 3: Vampires Sing Like Angels
Notes:
Just something fun - if you know Good Omens, the sound Bijou & Taylon make is the singing child in the intro theme.
If you do not, Tube of You would have it - Good Omens Opening Theme. Better with at least a 2 minute long one. For example the sound is at 0:50-1:09 (for 2:12 runtime or for 10:47 runtime)
Not necessary to know for the chapter, just a bit of fun!Nikki - I threw in your line!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Daryl stares at his bolt resting on the ground.
The tip is destroyed. The fucking bolt has splintered at its end like it just hit a wall. It is unusable and more disturbingly, shows signs of hitting something hard and unyielding. The only thing standing there is Taylon and Daryl had watched it make contact.
His bolt bounced off a fucking person… bat… bat-person.
“The hell?” Daryl mutters, meeting those bewildering lavender eyes as Taylon takes a step towards them.
As he balks, the approaching man remains calm. “I have been entirely honest with you.” His voice has not risen nor grown angry, as if not even caring that Daryl has tried to kill him a second ago. “Do you accept that?”
After a pause that he spends gaping open mouthed, Rick hoarsely gets out, “Yeah.”
“Do you accept that we are vampires and that it is in your best interest to listen to us?”
Vampires… oh my lanta.
Rick nods dumbly, still staring with eyes as wide as saucers.
“Ya stopped a bullet earlier, didn’ ya?” Daryl asks after a second, deciding he wants to know and after what he has just seen it no longer sounds so crazy to say out loud.
“Indeed - to save your life.” Taylon reminds him, sending ice into Daryl’s veins. He is so casual with the admission, like it is not the maddest thing to admit to. “I was serious about our mission. We are the epsilon unit of the northeastern division of human affairs for the wildfire contagion.”
“You know it’s called wildfire?” Rick claps back with a minor delay, probably still trying to process the… vampire, it seemed.
That bolt should have killed him.
“It impresses me that you know that, too.” Taylon gives a bittersweet smile. “The virus was engineered by a vampire - that much we know.”
“Any of you?”
“We are not so cruel - nor important.” Taylon frowns. Rather matter of factly he adds, “Additionally, we are not scientists.”
“I really… I really don’t understand this.” Rick mumbles in confusion, running his palm down his face. Daryl can relate as his brain feels sluggish from the morbid hit his world view had just taken.
Is it that much more bizarre than the dead walking to take a bite out of us?
“What are ya?” Daryl settles on asking glumly.
“Keepers of humanity. It is our mission to eliminate the lingering dark elements and preserve the good.”
“Who decides?” Daryl asks while holding his stance, keeping more on his toes than he feels himself capable of.
“We have someone who can see hearts.” Taylon gestures to the women behind him. “It takes precious little observation that way.” With quick acknowledgement he adds, “Your group has nothing to be concerned with.”
“But you kill the bad?” Rick asks to confirm.
“Would you let a meal go to waste in a world like this?” Taylon answers crisply, brow rising an inch. “I daresay no, you know the value of food. So do we. Simple as that.”
“We’re not food?”
“Your group has very little darkness in them. Pain, yes, but darkness, no. Please rest easy.” Taylon repeats.
“Then why can’t we leave?” Daryl butts in with a firm push and a grunt.
“You know our location. You leave when we do, so that you do not decide to murder us in our sleep.” Taylon raises a brow at Rick, making it clear he knows the group is capable of killing even with those good hearts.
“I’d rather leave now.” Rick states cautiously, voice thick.
“But I’m sure you know I will say no. Tomorrow, come morning, you will all be freed.” Taylon nods to the pistol and handgun in Rick’s hands. “Take your weapons. They will make you feel better.” Then he cocks a brow. “If we wanted you dead, why save you?”
For later. For… food. Daryl is suddenly highly aware of his bare neck, body tensing as he considers that the only logical answer. The supposed kindnesses and life-saving crap, well, he can look past that because the farmer looks after his animals until they hit the slaughterhouse, too.
The hell is happenin’ these days?
“Well, finish finding your things.” Taylon casually reminds them before walking away. The two men turn to one another and he swears he has never seen Rick without a shred of color. The expression on his face is clear; we are in a viper’s nest.
They break from their sluggishness almost immediately, moving back to the gun table. It does make Daryl wonder what they could use against them if these bastards can catch bullets. Wooden stakes, is that it? Or silver bullets? Fuck, too bad we ain’t got any of that.
When they finish finding everything they approach Taylon wearily near the door, who leads them out. Rick walks with rigid legs like a doll with unbending knees. Daryl doubts he is any better. Both leave yards of space between them and the… vampire.
They’re all so pale.
He thinks of the people of Terminus getting their throats ripped open, recalling the horrific noises that built up one on top of another. Now he knows they really had been drinking their blood. Plus, in the alley, that meant Taylon’s fangs had been real…
They rip throats.
Glenn is pointing at the ceiling when they return, where a couple of bats seem to be roosting. Though Daryl looks up at them and realizes it has to be a couple of the.. Vampires. Why the hell would bats be in here otherwise?
Oh that feels wrong in his head, just like the thought of walkers had at first.
Vampires are real?
Daryl barely feels his feet as he returns to the gymnasium, feeling like an animal led to the slaughter in a maze of loading pens. Just waiting for the end. He leans against the wall, fighting the urge to scream for at least the next five minutes.
What the hell’s goin’ on?
They see more transformations, which makes members of the group jump and stare. Nobody says much except to express disbelief. Some members of the vampiric group enter the room, then a split second later where they stood is a fluttering bat, which then retreats to the ceiling.
“I hate sleeping at night - it is unnatural.” Bijou sighs while entering the space as five bats now roost fairly close together. Daryl has been keeping his eye on them, staying wide awake.
To be fair, almost no one is asleep. Who they hell can sleep through that? He spots Maggie keeping a hand over her neck while Glenn spoons her on the ground, still a little pale. The new group is tight to one another, just a little aways from what Daryl considers to be his true group. His family.
“You know the code.” Taylon murmurs far more softly and respectfully of the supposedly sleeping.
“Yes but it is inconvenient.” Bijou answers with the tone and scowl of a five year old denied a chocolate chip cookie. “Incommode bâstards,” she hisses.
“Bijou.” Taylon’s voice has the tiniest hint of warning, like a chihuahua’s bark. Still, she sends Daryl’s gut roiling just like the rest when she disappears and in her place a black bat corkscrews through the air up to the ceiling.
Six. Daryl thinks to himself before glancing across the room. The only still humanoid formed one of the lot is their guardian, who sits on the ground while leaning against the wall opposite Daryl. Seven.
Taylon shifts his gaze and suddenly they are looking right at one another. Daryl refuses to yield immediately, holding his stare with a stern look of his own. To his great discontent, Taylon offers a rather pretty, toothy smile from across the room. Something about the unnatural man’s attention suddenly sends Daryl’s gaze downwards.
This is going to be a long, uncomfortable night.
As he suspected, it was indeed a miserable night.
Long, unrelenting, and stressful.
Daryl kept looking up at the cluster of bats on the ceiling or checking that Taylon had not moved. Aside from checking outside a couple of times though, their guardian stays put. Not once in the night does Daryl feel safe. Hell, he feels like a beer mug perched on the edge of the bar counter.
Even while his eyes grow dry, like they have been open too long, Daryl forces himself to stay awake. In the wee hours a couple of people manage to sleep - like Carl and that new ginger bastard. The redneck hunter persists in staying awake, telling himself he can sleep when they are away from this group.
However when the first hints of light appear, most of them are still awake. Daryl watches the six bats flutter down in mostly a cohesive cloud before the group reappears together on the ground. Daryl’s heart leaps into his throat at the unsettling sight.
They all have hoods which they pull up. Gloves are removed from pockets and put on, causing Daryl to notice they are covering up their skin. Yeah, ‘cause don’t they burn up in the sun? Could we just… rip clothes and kill ‘em?
Though, they are not completely covered. As Daryl stares he realizes they are more shaded than anything. All in long sleeves that cover most of their skin, now that he stops to consider their attire more closely, but bits of flesh are visible. It causes him to wonder if maybe the reality is not as close to the movies as he thinks. After all, if you would disappear under a hint of sunlight you would probably wear a bit more than gloves and cloaks.
Better to not try if it don’t work. Great way to make enemies. Though he still suspects this peace is only tentative. Daryl has noticed the flasks and figures it is not moonshine in them. Once those run out, what will they do for blood?
“We’ll make sure you get safely on the road.” Malifus is overheard saying to Rick. It just sets Daryl’s teeth on edge. He will hardly feel safe until they put miles between them without seeing a single goddamn bat.
Six of them leave for what they call ‘breakfast’ and he remembers the box with the original Terminus residents. One guard - the bulkier, leather clad one- stays as they awkwardly shake off the night and wait tensely to be released while lingering near the exits.
“Just say the word, Hauss.” Mutters the redhead while looking to Rick with a frown. He hardly looks eager to try taking on the supernatural group.
The palpable tension pins them down and they wait. It only takes a few minutes for the six to return, seemingly satiated. A couple have bloody mouths that are being licked clean like he would do with barbecue sauce. Daryl tries not to look.
“There is a decent sized group of biters - or walkers as you call them - out front.” Malifus informs them. “So we will walk you a few miles down.”
“You sure?” Maggie asks quietly.
“We can smell them,” confirms the dark haired woman from the storage room yesterday.
“Get the luggage.” Malifus is busy ordering his own people, sending the two bulkier looking men (Ferdinand - stupid fucking name - and V-something, he recalls) outside. In a moment they return with heavily laden packs on their back and others in hand, which get passed around.
“Malifus, there is a good woman in the woods.” The quieter, most modestly dressed of the three women spoke up. It makes the others still curiously, making Daryl think they do not have whatever ability she does. “Unbitten. Strong. Armed. But pained. So many years of pain but now her soul is almost quiet.. and she knows them.”
Rick exchanges a glance with him.
Who’d be out there? Beth? Carol? When he thinks of the description, particularly the years of pain, Ed’s ugly mug comes to mind. His eyes widen at the prospect of seeing her again.
“She’s going to ambush us.”
Fuck.
The two goons who were sent for their bags drop everything and leave, returning with Carol struggling to escape their hold. One is carrying a rifle that has a bent barrel.
The second he sees her, Daryl moves to her side. He is ready to punch these bastards, vampires or not. Except, they take their hands off Carol once they get her inside the gymnasium. One seems to shove the small of her back, propelling her forward and half into Daryl’s arms. He clutches her tightly.
“Just do it.” Daryl mutters to Carol, hanging onto her arm to make sure to propel her forward. He knows that she is probably the most confused - the rest of them have been watching bats becoming humans so they know what they are up against. He sees her gape in confusion, shaking his head sternly once. Dangerous. His eyes try to tell her to yield and as they step outside the gymnasium he thinks he catches uncomfortable understanding passing her face.
At first the area right outside of Terminus is clear and they all begin to walk. The vampires mostly walk ahead, with their two thugs behind. The group - he guesses he ought to call them the human group - sticks a little more tightly together than normal. He keeps a protective arm around Carol while trying to whisper to her what the fuck was going on.
“We need to go west - Tyrese has Judith in a house.” Carol whispers back to him.
Heart leaping into his throat, Daryl stares wide-eyed. His lips part into a small, moderate smile. Lil’ Asskicker… He whispers to her to tell Rick his daughter is alive, but before Carol can step away from him the people in front of him slow a little.
They have only gone a half mile, but up ahead is a decent sized herd. Probably three or four dozen. Enough to give them a wide berth, had they not been led into it. As the walkers start to notice and turn towards them, the vampires keep strolling along.
Rick glances to his people and raises his gun. The hunter shrugs his crossbow off his shoulder and sets his gaze on the sights. Guess it’s time to see if they meant what they said.
“Down, humans.” Malifus commands without turning around to actually see their weapons raised. Daryl wonders if he has a sixth sense or just knows they would not walk into a walker herd without at least lifting a finger in their defense..
Rick inclines his head slightly at the others to back off, but his gun does not return to his holster even with it down.
“Bijou, Taylon.” Malifus commands. “Both for maximum efficiency since our guests smell alive.” He slows down, allowing Rick to fall into step beside him. They still advance but at a snail’s pace.
Bijou skips ahead with bouncy delight and a vivacious grin, while Taylon speeds up slightly with a more dignified step and a straight back. If anything he stares downward like the attention is bothering him. Neither questions their leader, so Daryl figures they have either done this before or they just obey him.
“You might like it.” Ferdinand chuckles beneath his breath to the stragglers in the back.
The walkers stagger towards them but the two front vampires advance unbothered. Daryl watches a few walkers raise their arms towards the duo, guessing that the undead are still somewhat attracted to vampires. Walkers will literally eat everything that moves. He wonders if a walker bites a vampire, could they get anything off them?
Bijou outright leaps into the herd and spreads her arms like a teenage girl starring in her own social media livestream. Taylon remains far more dignified and reserved, walking along quietly into the thick of it. Right when Daryl thinks they must be insane, their mouths open and strangely angelic, tenor voices leave them. The noises sounds more like it belongs in a children’s church choir than coming from two adult monsters.
The walkers actually lower their arms and start to turn away from them. They even turn their backs to the group. Slowly they shuffle away with their awkward, dragging steps. Like Moses through the Red Sea, the duo creates a wake of walkers that to Daryl’s shock, they begin to stride right through.
Even with them moving away, Daryl keeps his crossbow tight in hand. He whips his head around to see that they are truly moving away on all sides. A herd of this size.
“We told you that you are living in the world of the undead.” Malifus remarks quietly to Rick, but Daryl overhears.
“How does that work?” Rick asks him in a lowered voice, as if his living one might provoke the walkers. “The singing?”
“They sing the final dregs of life. The light from days unspent. Hearing life from the dead, to the dead, is an aberration that the biters shy away from.” Malifus states simply.
“Days unspent?” Rick questions in confusion.
“Bijou was turned in France three hundred years ago, so hers is coming to an end. Taylon though, was turned in America. He is barely a hundred. That is why they are capable of doing it. A few of us can control them with thought though.”
Three hundred years? Daryl thinks to himself. Barely a hundred?
“With your thoughts?” Rick repeats incredulously.
“I can become a bat, Rick. You think a walking meat bag is too much?” Malifus replies with the slightest hint of a dry wit.
The two leaders share a look and Rick nods with a slight nod, glancing to the nearby walkers’ backs as he walks through them. “You guys are for real.”
“Do you want to know what George Washington was really like?” Malifus asks after a moment between them, with Rick walking at his side.
“Sure.”
“A prick that smelled of cow dung and lit hemp.” Malifus answers cooly, making Rick chuckle under his breath. He reaches for his belt and pulls a flask off it, holding it out to the duo that fall back into step now that they have cleared the hoard.
Bijou takes it first and sips deeply, purring and taking another before finally passing it over. Taylon tips it back and finishes it, flicking his tongue across his bloodied fangs. He passes it back to Malifus.
“Sir, there are humans nearby.” The quieter woman says from behind them. “But they are nearing part of this herd that split. A mile out.”
“How can you smell them over this lot?” Bijou snickers.
“And their souls, Verity?” Malifus requests crisply.
“Good… except for one.” She murmurs.
Half the group groans, with Bijou being the loudest and most whinging.
“Because that’s always a fun kill,” Vin mutters from the back.
“You can wait for our protection, or go. We must investigate.” Malifus states to Rick, sounding not bothered either way.
Taylon catches Daryl’s eye and remarks, “Just like we did for you.”
He half scowls back, wondering why the hell the shyer one bothered to turn towards him. Yet he cannot help but think it was sort of useful to have their clearing a herd and letting them walk right through it.
With a lazy but clear implication Malifus adds, “Of course, it would take a halfhearted effort on our part to catch up to you.” Then he turns to his group and nods. “Go.” Within a second they are but flashes darting into the woods and disappearing. The vampires move with inhuman speed and it becomes obvious what Malifus meant by saying it would be effortless to catch up to them.
Carol makes a little squeak in her throat to watch them run with superhuman speed. It makes him wonder what she would have done seeing them turn into bats. Although considering what just happened, Daryl thinks she will believe him when he tells her later.
Rick turns to the others and they huddle up a little.
“We gotta get out of Dodge, these bastards are insane.” Abraham is the first to sharply interject.
“They can move whole walker herds out of the way though.” Maggie points out thoughtfully.
“Still scary as hell.” Tara says in minor awe, shaking her head at the shapeshifting they had seen yesterday. “They can fly.”
“They’re stronger than we are.” Glenn remarks dejectedly.
Daryl waits for Rick to look towards him before putting in his two cents. “If things go south, they’ll go fast.” These guys acted like they wanted to help but truth is they are something of a food source to the vampires. Part of him wonders if they will just end up bitten when their stores of blood dwindle.
“Rick, I need to tell you something - Judith’s with Tyrese in a house nearby.” Carol cuts in and that changes everything. Hurriedly, they take about the house nearby. The ashen look appears and Daryl can see Rick does not want to bring those monsters near Judith but his wide eyes are desperate. He needs to get to that baby girl knowing she is alive.
“We wait for the moment to run. When I say.” Rick tells them all quietly.
From several yards away, Malifus rolls his eyes and stalks into the woods, opting to simply give them a salute rather than sticking around. Apparently the vampires took their leave instead of waiting around, playing games. Almost like he heard…
Superhuman hearing… fuck. Daryl thinks to himself. Still, the vampires are gone from sight, they cleared the road which is empty ahead, and they have some supplies now.
As long as those freaks are gone, it will be fine.
Notes:
Current Fic Playlist
Pack Song/General Vampiring - Good Omens End Titles/Outro
Pack travel song/ Bijou & Taylon's walker song - Good Omens Opening/Intro
Malifus - Lust Of Power, Gabriel Saban
Taylon - Just Haven't Met You Yet, Buble, & By Your Side (Little Vampire theme)
Vampire-Daryl - You’re Dead, Norma Tanega (WWDTS theme!)
Bijou, flapper song - A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square, by Tori Amos
Adelaide - Queen of the Vampires
Chapter 4: Deer Popsicles & Diaries
Notes:
Enjoy a new chapter!
Yeah estimating 30K was a laugh, maybe 50K? I can't shut the fuck up.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It was fine for a while.
Maybe nine days, ten? It all sort of blends together in Daryl’s head now. Hell, today he got dizzy enough to have to stop waking and just take a breath.
They have been a larger group since Terminus, because the weird mission Eugene is on is reason enough for them to all stick together. Granted, Daryl thinks he is full of shit, but he keeps that to himself.
Now, their big group has gone through all the food they had carried from Terminus. Well not now, days ago. It had only lasted them four days, minus a smidgeon reserved for Judith. Keeping her from crying was too important not to keep her fed, nevermind the fact that she deserved it the most out of everyone there.
They had marched in the opposite direction the vampires had gone in, heading north. What little they would believe from their words, the idea of better and safer settlements were reason enough to turn northward.
Plus, it is not like Georgia has done them any favors. They have lost good people. Amy, Hershel, Andrea, Beth. They lost a home in the prison. They lost their sense of what the world is in Terminus.
So, fuck Georgia. It ain’t home anymore.
They moved miles every day, growing weaker as they found fewer and fewer supplies.
Each day Daryl would peel off and try to hunt. More often than not he found precious little - being forced to run parallel to the group so he did not fall behind made it difficult to track anything. Then he gets weaker, and just plodding along feels like a challenge.
When they run into walkers on the road and start pushing them aside, too tired to fight, that is when Daryl finally gets worried. Judith will eat up the last of the food one of these days and get too upset to console. They are lucky she is not a big crier, but without any food how much longer can that last? She already seems fussier by the day. He worries for her.
He worries for all of them.
They are plodding along tiredly, nearly stumbling, when some ravenous looking dogs approach. They snarl and leap forward, with Daryl lifting his crossbow to fire. He can take out one but fuck, are they all tired.
A dark blur rams into the dogs and within seconds they are all put down. The mangy mutts’ bodies lie broken and for a second all he thinks is. Dinner.
Finally, some fucking food!
Still, he jerks himself towards the blur only to groan. He recognizes the group of six standing in a cluster behind them.
Then the dark haired woman approaches them and sets down a case of water bottles with a stack of canned pasta on top.
Half the group lunges towards the supplies - Abraham and Glenn nearly bump heads in their urgency. Some are less eager but eventually they all approach. The factory seals are all intact, and though Daryl would not put something past these weirdos, he is starving. Plus given that they never chased them down on the road, he doubts they are on the vampires’ radar all that much, Daryl grabs a can of Chef Boyardee and a water bottle. He plops down on the highway, letting his butt hit the pavement as he cracks the seal and tips the can into his mouth.
When he goes back for a second he remembers making it a point to keep track of the vampires. There were seven, not six.
Their leader is still as collected and apparently patient as ever. Malifus, he recalls. Still in that damn duster jacket, with his dark hair tied back.
The same three women from before - mad as a box of nails Bijou, who has added or ripped her tights so the outermost pair is now blue, the dark headed sultry one, and the quiet one that reads hearts.
The two tougher looking types - Ferdinand and Vin - are standing side by side and looking no less menacing than before physically.
So, where is the little one that had been their guardian? He wonders what could be out there that might kill a vampire. He almost thinks it is a shame since, out of all of them, Taylon had seemed the least destructive and frightening. Not much of a bar, but the guy had always treated them with some respect and at least he actively tried to avoid making them uncomfortable.
Tha’s too bad.
They eat and it does jumpstart everyone’s spirits, but one good meal is not enough. Daryl spots Malifus in a huddle with Rick and realizes he was so busy trying to scoop the sauce out of the bottom of the can without cutting his fingers that he missed something happening.
Fuck. Daryl thinks before rising to wearied, leaden feet and approaching Rick. Not too close, but enough to hear they were talking terms. Letting them help us because…
“I think you should consider the rogue werewolf carefully.” Malifus seems to be set with his words, silencing and giving the sheriff a moment. It makes Daryl wish he had gotten there a minute sooner to hear what the hell is happening.
Werewolves don’t… well fuck, if vampires are real then why not werewolves? Hell, I probably did see a chupacabra.
This world is getting stranger by the day.
Spotting the hunter at his elbow, Rick turns and gives him a worn-out look. “They’re giving us a chance to rest. Apparently, it’s going to be dangerous out in a few hours. A, uh.. werewolf’s been spotted in the area.” Rick finally gets out the word.
“Don’ really have a choice.” Daryl answers back quietly while suspecting that Malifus hears every word despite his lax staring in the other direction. They are closer to him that he was on the road when they parted, and Daryl was damn well sure he had heard that.
“That’s what I was thinking…” Rick agrees with a downtrodden hint.
Both men are aware of the group’s sorry state and the creatures’ abilities. If the vampires wanted to rip them all apart, now would be the time to do it, but instead they brought them supplies. Sure Daryl still has the farmer metaphor in his head, but he knows they are sitting ducks right now. So maybe, hell, he will take the farmer’s help today, and expect to run tomorrow.
“Ah good, he found a spot.” Malifus remarks before bringing his weathered, dark stare back to them. “We have a place you can rest.”
Daryl glances to where Malifus had looked and he spots the casually suited, short vampire with pale blond hair and strangely soft eyes. Still very much alive - or whatever the hell you call the undead - and Daryl is briefly glad. He had come out of the woods and Daryl realizes he was likely scouting.
It is Taylon that ends up leading the way to a gun store just off the main road. It is sheltered by a clump of trees and exactly the sort of little dive only locals would know about. Although partially picked over, there is still some ammunition and a few new guns. They start to look for rounds in the proper sizes and casings while the vampires flit off.
Daryl keeps his eyes on them again. Some guard the perimeter, others disappear and return with armfuls of supplies. They bring water and packaged food by the arm or boxful, then a whole goddamn deer that is dragged in and set on the ground. Daryl steps up when Vin asks, “Any livings good at gutting?”
Daryl notices the animal’s head lolls from a limp neck. A quick glance at its body confirms no gunshots or arrow piercings or even stab wounds. They had snapped the deer’s neck.
Hell, how close can they get?
Still, good eating. Daryl begins to gut the deer, slicing it open easily before bringing out a fileting knife and working to get a good cut. He knows Carol and Maggie are a little ways away preparing a fire to cook it, but when the hairs on the back of his neck stand up from close contact, he knows it is not either of the women.
Daryl whips around, spotting two vampires at his heels. Both pull back instinctively. The little one with the purple eyes, and the shy woman that reads people - which is an unnerving thing to know about someone standing this close.
Both vampires stare wide eyed like children caught in the kitchen while the cookies are still in the oven.
“We brought you this.” Taylon holds out a stainless steel butcher’s knife with a four inch wide blade. Daryl grunts as a thanks, taking hold of it.
Fuck, but his fingers are cold.
When he spots them continuing to stare, Daryl stares right back. Almost meekly, the wide eyed blond asks, “Are you going to cook the legs?”
“No.” Daryl states with mild confusion. It is something he has done before but was not planning on, even now. That is a real last ditch effort for food with deer having such spindly stick legs. It might be good in a stock or something, but they hardly have the time for whipping up that.
“Can we have them?” The woman asks gently.
It is a little strange, but Daryl takes the knife and brings it down like a cleaver to hack off the deer’s limbs. Why though?
He gets his answer when he hands the first leg over and the woman who takes it just sinks her fangs into it. Daryl pauses in hefting off another leg, glancing at her half-closed eyes and slightly moving lips.
Deer blood.
Then he spots the other one at his elbow. Damn, the guy is doe eyed and thirsty looking. He stares at the knife in Daryl’s hand with his eyes all wide and pearlescent at the whites, stealing the show a little from the captivatingly colorful irises.
So he cuts into another leg and hands it over, watching the vampire stick the open end into his mouth while he stares back at Daryl. After an awkward moment the hunter cuts the other two legs and sets them aside. For the first time their bloodlust is not so vicious - which he wonders is because it is aimed at a deer. If that was a human arm it would not be like someone sucking a popsicle.
There is no denying the lack of malice in their eyes, which go from hunger to contentment as they stand there eating while Daryl goes back to separating the meat from the animal. It feels odd with the pair at his elbows like a couple hunting dogs looking for scraps, but he finds it odder that their presence does not unnerve him so much this time around.
Daryl glances at them, though he finds one far more intriguing than the other. “Why bother with contacts?” He finally asks about the ridiculously unnaturally colored eyes.
Taylon glances down with a slight darkening coming to his cheeks that Daryl guesses is the vampire equivalent of being flustered. No ruddiness, just shadow, but the difference is noticeable.
“They’re real.” He finally states with definite mild awkward embarrassment coating his words, confirming to Daryl that vampires can blush.
That’s real? What about the lime green ones?
“Why?” Daryl finds himself asking since the woman takes a second deer leg and then wanders away. Taylon is slower to finish his, particularly when Daryl sets his sights on him. His lips still, like he is uncertain about drinking whenever Daryl is looking at him.
“Sometimes bodily changes happen when you turn.” Taylon states quietly once he retracts his fangs out of the deer, still looking up at Daryl. “And lavender.. was an important color to me while I was alive.”
“Yeah?”
“I won’t bore you.” Taylon murmurs awkwardly in return, fingers tightening around the deer leg like the answer is unwilling to be shared. Tension claws at his expressive eyes. It is the meekness that comes from shyness but Daryl has no idea what he did to make the vampire feel like that.
Realizing he has blood past his wrists, Daryl is suddenly keenly aware of how appetizing he might appear. Yet Taylon is hardly looking at him like a snack. Hell, the guy is barely looking at him ever since he asked about his eyes. He wonders if the coloring is a sensitive subject.
“They’re nice.” Daryl decides to err on the kind side more than he probably would normally. The words feel like they stumble out of his mouth. However, when you know someone can rip your throat out, it does push your polite buttons a little.
Taylon finally glances back up at him though he only drags his head to be level. His eyes rise a little bit further up, settling on Daryl’s face as a tentative smile briefly appears. The shadows darken on his jaws almost prettily.
“What’s deer blood taste like?” Daryl decides to ask just to stop all the damn staring.
“Gamey and less salty.” Talon offers up after a moment. “What does eating it taste like?”
“Exactly what ya said.” Daryl figures that much was obvious. Then again, before walkers he was not used to folk that do not eat what they hunt themselves. “You never ate deer?”
“No. I had lived in Chicago.” Taylon answers while idly stroking the deer’s calf. “Not much deer out there.”
“When you were alive?” Daryl asks, having noticed the first two deer legs were set back down neatly before each vampire took a second. Pale now, on both the skin and pelt, but otherwise intact. So, knowing that they seem to only be drinking blood, he figured the only chance to eat meat had to have been while living. When Taylon gives him a single nod, Daryl asks when.
“I was born in the early twentieth century.”
“Must’ve been exciting.” Daryl supposes, thinking of gangsters and prohibition.
“No, it wasn’t.” Taylon answers simply before wincing. “Sorry… it just reminds me of dying.”
Now there is a door to open. Clearly bothered by the subject, Taylon hardly seems eager to talk but he has not wandered away from him like the woman from before. “What’s that like?” Daryl cannot help but ask, knowing this is a rare chance.
Again he gets a curious glance from those stunning purple pools but Taylon only hesitates, he still answers. “Horrific but… like going home, too. I don’t recommend it.”
“Should I, uh, be worried bein’ like this?” Daryl holds up his bloody hands.
For a second he is worried because Taylon stares at him like he just rubbed himself in secret sauce for a cannibal. The expression passes quickly. “I’ll fetch a rag.”
“Thanks.” Daryl mumbles as he is finally left alone to finish dressing the deer meat.
Vampires are weird.
Venison piping hot and fresh after what little room temperature food they had on the road changes everyone’s moods. Granted, having full clips and water helps immensely too.
The vampires bring canned goods and ready-made pasta in pouches, so they eat like kings. When Rick tries to ration, Malifus tells him to eat as more will come. Rick listens to him.
They stay all the rest of the day and the night. Then another.
Color starts to come back into faces. He spots Carol smile and Maggie kiss Glenn. Rick plays with Judith, who laughs and lights up the room. They are brought diapers and formula by their dutiful seeming caretakers, so Judith makes nary a peep.
“I had a word with Malifus.” Rick tells the group on the second day. “He offered their protection to get us to a sanctuary. I know they make most of us feel uncomfortable, but I think we should take it."
People bust in with opinions but after the hell they had, most actually agree with Rick. The vampires had saved them, twice now; Once at Terminus and then again with food. Most think that any danger would have happened already. Only a few dissent but they have no better ideas and most agree to go along with it, if only for now.
Still doubting, Daryl only nods in agreement with the group. He knows they would be screwed otherwise. Particularly if they are honest about a werewolf roaming around, though Daryl knows that could be bullshit.
So the next day they all head out, together. Daryl makes sure his bolts are ready to fly, wondering if they could double as little wooden stakes if a need arose. Yet the group becomes calm within the first few miles.
The humans remain in the center of the now huge group, flanked by at least two vampires at all times. Usually the two tough looking bastards lead; Ferdinand and Vin. Bijou prances wherever she likes, while the other two women, Verity and Adelaide, take the rear with Taylon most of the time. Malifus roams, often among the humans, depending on who he is talking to.
They make good miles that first day before kipping down by a river. As they begin to spread out a little, Daryl settles himself beneath a tree to watch. The women that are not Bijou approach Rick to see Judith, though the sheriff keeps her in his arms rather than letting them hold her, like he would with human women. They waggle fingers at the baby, looking like any other maternal women. Malifus and his pair of enforcers walk the perimeter spaced apart from each other, while Bijou kicks the water and splashes around for a while before returning with wet tights and a voracious, wide grin.
Then he spots her coming over and his jaw tightens. When she nears him, his teeth are almost grinding slightly. Something about Bijou just puts him on edge, except as she gets closer her gaze starts to rise. When he follows it, Daryl realizes she is looking up into the nearby tree, where Taylon is perched.
Shit, I never saw him get up there.
The more studious of the group has one knee bent and resting on the branch he is on. He leans over his leg and Daryl can only see a pen moving from this angle. What do vampires write about?
“What name today?” Bijou calls up to him with a happy grin.
After a moment, Taylon leans sideways and gives a slight smile down to her. “Eleazar - maybe his name is obscure.”
“Oh, Eleazar… obscure and sexy.” Bijou giggles. “Don’t you ever get tired of waiting?”
“Yes and no, but he’ll know how patient I am at least.” Taylon leaps from the tree and lands with the grace that comes from not putting one cell out of place.
“So, what is Eleazar like?” Bijou asks while sliding her arm into Taylon’s. The small notebook is carefully slid into his inner jacket.
“Short, messy, and quick to anger - but not to me. I’ll be his rock.” Taylon states with prideful affection.
“That’s a pretty one… I would fuck him.” Bijou muses.
“Not if he is mine.” Taylon says especially quietly. If they were not just a tree over, Daryl would have missed it.
“No… Not then. Not for you.” She pats his arm then sighs. “I must have fucked thousands since were met… your dedication impresses me.”
“When I think of it… it doesn’t feel like a sacrifice. But when I am living in the waiting… sometimes it’s hard not to break down.”
“That is why you have me, until you complete your mission.”
“And you have me.” Taylon answers with what Daryl considers is more affection than he thought a vampire would be able to have. They are almost sweet together, like him and Carol but reversed.
Bijou pushes him abruptly, half knocking him over. “Jouons à chat!” She cries out with a sudden burst of excitement.
Then she disappears, or appears to. It takes a second for the disconcerting sight to register in his mind, while a little bat darts through the air. Then Taylon disappears too and, almost expecting it, Daryl finds it easier watching the second shift.
The two bats begin to zip about the clearing though he notices when one reaches the other, the direction changes. It is only as he wonders why they take turns being the aggressor that Daryl realizes what is happening as one bat bumps another.
They’re playing.
It’s tag.
The buxom, black haired woman called Adelaide transforms and joins them. To Daryl’s surprise, Vin, the most muscular one, gives perimeter duty to Verity and joins in too. The four bats create a soft chorus of flutters as they play above their camp.
Everything goes well, until one bat hits another and sends it tumbling out of the night’s sky to the ground. The little thing lands square on top of Abraham’s head and Daryl watches his hand with a wince. He swats at it like nothing, knocking it down too. Except as it falls, it turns back into Bijou and she lands upside down with her legs sprawling into Abraham’s back, sending him to the ground.
“Foul, Vindar! Tricheureuse !” Bijou cries out petulantly while thrusting a finger into the sky.
Abraham turns and goes to speak, only for Bijou to reach between her legs. He gets a finger laid over his lips by the blond banshee. “Next time, break a lady’s fall with those ginger curls instead of tossing me aside.”
The three others land and transform back into themselves, though expressions quickly shift as everyone is clearly fine. So the trio disperse; Adelaide back to Malifus’ side, Vin to perimeter guarding, and Taylon zips up into the tree near Daryl’s. In a second, he is out of sight.
“Wouldn’t have done it if I had known it was you.” Abraham offers her a gentlemanly hand to pick her up off the ground.
“ Oui? ” Bijou’s almost switched back to purring and sassy, giving the man a smirk from just inches away.
Daryl has to give it to him, Abraham’s got balls to have a vampire drop out of the sky and still try to flirt. Hell, it seems to have worked by the way they are staring at each other with brassy amusement and a hint of arousal.
“Bijou.” Malifus says warningly.
“Let me take him into the woods…” Bijou whines before shifting back to sultry. “I’ll keep him safe even if he screams, and he will.” She winks promisingly at Abraham. It is definitely not a scream of pain that she is planning.
“No.”
Malifus glances at Rick and it is sign enough for him to approach Abraham and wrap an arm around his shoulder with a tight hold, guiding him away and yielding a sharp word. Meanwhile, the vampire’s leader takes Bijou across the clearing after she throws Abraham a blown kiss with a smirk behind it.
Fuck’s sake.
Yeah, everyone’s fucking horny whether they are alive or dead. At least some things never change.
Notes:
Jesus, Bijou... lol
Also, Taylon is being so cute! What do you think his notebook is for?
Chapter 5: A Vampire's Favorite Blood Is...
Chapter Text
Daryl keeps an eye on the vampires because the mere fact they drink blood and murder people is enough to make him distrust them. A few days pass without issue and he grows less agitated by them, but keeps up the vigilance.
They are militaristic in maintaining a perimeter around the human contingent, leading to no walkers getting even remotely close to anyone. Not one person had to brain a walker, not since they showed up. They usually sing, though with only a handful of walkers they tend to break necks, zipping in close and moving with such speed that the humans can barely see. The walkers sure have no time to respond.
What is funny though, is that they are all different looking in bat form. Daryl always thought bats were the same, though maybe that was because his glances on them were brief. Some are brown, some black, and even a ruddy coloring. The sizes vary too.
Some are a foot long and the smallest a little three inch looking runt. He recognizes Ferdinand as being a large brown bat since they had those back home; Sometimes they would get on the property and roost. As the nights pass he recognizes Malifus and Adelaide as larger bats, Bijou as a medium black with silver tips and even some ruddy colors mixed in. It takes a few transformations before he realizes the runt is not Verity, but Taylon. He is the most interesting to look at though - ruddy colored fur with black leathery membranes on his wings and on his back hints of blond. Once Daryl realizes it is him, he thinks the blond makes it obvious. It kind of looks funny seeing his tiny three inch self, especially next to a larger bat four times his size.
Then one night he spots at least two vampires in their human forms flip their flasks over, tipping them back for the last drop. Now he is mildly worried, but conceals it. Daryl keeps his eyes open and observes the group closely, but none of them make a move in the next couple of days. He half expects to wake up and find someone from the human group missing one morning, but it never happens. Still, Daryl keeps a watch when Rick sleeps and vice versa.
It is like the sheriff knows, too, that peace is tentative.
Then the shift starts. At first it is merely less playfulness, less energy. Bijou does not prance around. Nobody plays games. When Taylon writes, which he seems to do every day, he does it on the ground behind a tree away from the others. Nobody enters bat form until they sleep. Their eyes begin to drag down when they are in human form. They start to remind Daryl of how his own group looked a few days before the vampires found them.
Then one day, they all stay in bat form except two vampires which swap throughout the day (one in front of the humans, one in back) and Malifus, who gathers the lot of them in his backpack and carries them through the day. A shifting rotation of slightly more tired vampires persists for a few days and the singing starts to wane. When one day the walkers turn away more slowly and Taylon clutches his chest, Daryl wonders what exactly the cost of protecting them is.
“Rick, I’d like to speak with you,” Malifus says quietly after most of the other bats (save for the constant perimeter guards of course) are resting in a little tuft of grass.
Of course, the hunter is edging over with wary ears. He does not care if Malifus knows he is listening in anymore - Rick would just tell him after but he does not want to wait. Plus a small part of him wants to hear Malifus finally say it.
And he does.
“We haven’t found anyone to drink in some time.” Malifus starts in only for Rick to come in fast.
“We’re not giving up anyone to die.” Rick is stern and swift in rejecting the claim, rubbing his scrabbly chin. Daryl is instantly proud of the sheriff for not backing down on that point against the monster.
“That’s not what I was asking.”
Oh?
“Although we have drained people dry, that is not the only way we can drink. We can take small amounts of blood from arms and legs without causing more than a mildly discomforting pinch.”
“Really?” Rick sounds doubtful but not rejecting him.
“Our fangs give off a mild anesthetic. After the initial breaking of skin, the pain is gone. Then it is no worse than giving blood at a hospital.” He explains stiffly. “It would be appreciated and save us from separating the group to go on hunting expeditions.” Malifus finishes directly, “Think it over and let me know.”
There was the catch. Either they get fed, or the group might have to split again. At least partially. Then again, Daryl thinks that with the current state of tiredness among the vampires that they are already operating at less than half capacity. The rotation will not work forever.
After he nods and walks off, Daryl approaches the sheriff. “You catch that?” Rick asks him quietly.
“Uh-huh. Was waitin’ fer it.” Daryl mutters, trying to keep his voice low even if the odds were good that Malifus could hear every word. The man could sure pretend otherwise rather cooly though. It unnerved Daryl at times.
“They’re not demanding it.” Rick states thoughtfully. “And they’re struggling to keep up now.”
If they demand it, we’re fucked. Daryl does not say it, lest Malifus hear, but he thinks they need a safety net. They need to find a way to kill them all - not exactly an easy thing to worm out of any of them in conversation. But they need to find a way, or Daryl fears he will not feel safe again.
“Volunteers only?” Rick suggests, earning a nod from the hunter. As he moves towards the others to ask for aid, Daryl tells him he will. He hardly wants to have a bloodsucker on him but knows if this is for the good of the group that he needs to.
Since he already agreed, Daryl stays apart as the others listen to Rick explain to the group.
“I know who I’d volunteer for.” Abraham says loudly enough for Daryl to overhear while looking over to the bat pile. Daryl just knows he is thinking of the brashy blond woman with the lowest cut top.
Rick glances away from him, not complaining. Probably since that is one willing person. Besides, he hardly thinks the pain will bother him - Abraham seems like that sort. Glenn, Maggie, and Tara step up next. Only Eugene throws up his hands and moves away after an awkward moment realizing that just about every other male had volunteered. A good chunk of the women too.
Daryl watches with narrow eyes and his trigger finger itching as Malifus and Rick stand opposite each other - both of course volunteering to go first in front of their respective groups. Malifus to demonstrate, and Rick because Daryl knows he will not risk anyone else until Rick knows it is safe. This could be a lie and if it is, he will at least put a bolt between Malifus’ eyes before one of the other vampires rips him to shreds.
Instead Rick offers his arm and Malifus takes it in both hands steadyingly. He bends over, being a bit taller than Rick, and makes contact with his bared fangs. Rick only flinches slightly when the skin breaks, expression relaxing out of pain and into only awkward discomfort. Daryl supposes another man seemingly giving your arm a hickey has to be strange, but it looks no more than that.
“Only hurts for a second.” Rick affirms to the others waiting nervously to be next once Malifus releases his limb, which bears a set of puncture marks and a spot of excess blood.
“It will end early if you wish, simply say.” Malifus tells the human group before looking to his crew. “Pair off.”
Bijou throws herself at Abraham’s chest, being the first to zip right over and claim her meal. Adelaide goes to Michonne next, giving her a respectful nod and actually asking if it is alright. He watches Ferdinand and Vindar approach Maggie and Glenn. Bijou is already taking the chance to press against Abraham’s chest, looking more like she wants his neck.
Which one’s gonna get me? Daryl suddenly wonders as he breaks his gaze off his family, realizing he did not think through that part. Though, they have more than enough volunteers. It is not impossible that he will not be picked. He thinks that he will probably be the last proverbial breadstick in the basket. Who’d want me, righ’ ?
“Um..” A voice at his elbow says, from a figure that had to be damn quiet since Daryl had heard nobody coming closer.
Daryl snaps to the side, spotting the shorter, pale blond, looking at him with that shadowy flush and an embarrassed, wide lavender stare. Taylon clasps his hands low in front of him and glances away before looking back up through his long lashes.
“Can I..?” Taylon asks him meekly. “Um, Darren, right?”
Least he pro’lly has smaller fangs.
“Daryl. Daryl Dixon.” Daryl grunts and lifts his arm, offering the toned limb forward without asking for a name since he already knows it. From what he has seen of the others, most get right on with it. Taylon though, he takes a few baby steps closer and slowly touches the offered arm with one tentative hand. Unlike with Malifus, who sinks right in and looks intimidating doing it, Taylon swipes his tongue over a patch of Daryl’s forearm flesh like a lapping cat. It makes Daryl recall the comment about anesthesia - for their prey. I knew he’s nicer ‘n the rest.
Though, a second later it strikes him as odd - having a guy’s tongue dart out and lap at his arm, wet and chilly. Then Taylon’s mouth slowly clamps down, all while watching tentatively. Almost like he is waiting for Daryl to shake him off. When nothing happens, that is when the little vampire chomps down.
It lasts a second, like a shot but worse from the thickness of the fang. Daryl is surprised how brief it is. He feels the first gentle suction, almost pulling at him. It is a mild feeling, to his surprise.
After a second, Daryl uses his free hand to reach into his pocket for a packet of smokes. He thumbs the lid open, lifts it up, and grabs one with his lips. If he is going to be a proverbial sandwich, he will at least take the edge off. As Daryl is returning the pack to his pocket and going for his lighter, he feels Taylon going still.
A soft, low moan sticks in Taylon’s throat, though he cuts it off quickly. Then Taylon’s gaze snaps up, eyes blown wide in utter shock. The mouth clamped around his arm relaxes a little, as Taylon almost pants.
Daryl stares back awkwardly, wondering what the hell is making him stare and sound like that. A quick glance at the other feeding vampires confirms that none of the rest are having such a visceral reaction. Everyone is looking bored, satisfied, or in Vin and Verity’s cases mildly embarrassed.
Then Daryl remembers vampire lore from Hollywood, and his own personal history. A vampire's favorite blood is… from virgins. Aw, fuck.
Daryl has never had sex.
To be honest, sex was hard to find appealing. Women never got his attention that way. Men might be nice to look at, but he knew better. There was no way a Dixon could ever be caught doing that - though teen dalliances meant that one did. His daddy beat it out of him as best he could, so in the end Daryl just avoided that section of life. Romance is bullshit anyway and never lasted.
Now he has become a target, all because he never got his rocks off. Why punish him twice?
For Christ’s sake.
It should worry him more except Taylon’s tongue sneaks in front of his front teeth and laps at his flesh. Half slitted purple eyes melting into a haze stare up at the hunter. A tiny groan gets cut off too.
Fuck, if he was on his knees…
Daryl tries to banish the sudden, perverse thought. He swears it is only because men do not stand in front of him, making noises like that. Sucking on his arm like that. Hell, anyone would have had a similar reaction, he insists to himself. Most of all, men do not stare doe eyed up at him with unnaturally pretty eyes that belong in lilac fields.
“You’re very interesting.” Taylon murmurs gently to him as soon as he pulls back a little, protruding fangs glistening red and retracting. His tongue flicks over them just as he closes his mouth, distracting Daryl.
If it had been Bijou that fed on him, she would probably loudly announce his sexual failings to the whole group. So despite the awkwardness, he is glad it is the shy one that… knows. He likes it an’.. an’ he’s keepin’ quiet. Maybe he ain’t gonna tell. Daryl focuses on his secret, pushing the unexpected eroticism aside for now.
Daryl spots a flash of red tongue as Taylon tidies his lower lip quickly. Then he pulls a cloth from his pocket and lays it over Daryl’s arm right atop the twin puncture wounds. A quick glance confirms none of the others seem to be bothering with niceties aside from maybe thank yous.
“Thank you, Mister Dixon.” Taylon’s Chicagoan accent makes a brief appearance before he transforms and flies off to join the group.
Somehow, Daryl thinks his secret is safe.
Notes:
Daryl's got some fun thoughts this chapter!
First blood drinking and Daryl's thinking of Tay on his knees - awww~
How'd you guys like their first blood?
Chapter 6: Bats, Book Bunnies, & Babynapping
Notes:
Taylon's book is 100% lifted from Chobits - The Empty City book series.
I have also updated the playlist for this fic & put it in the first chapter. Obviously, I had to add the Chobits theme 'Let Me Be With You' to Taylon's song list.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The next morning half the bats ride with Adelaide in her pack, who seems to switch sometimes to let Malifus sleep. The other half though, they spread out onto the humans. Literally onto them.
Almost like drinking from them shifted something in the vampires, and the humans do not mind the newer closeness. Daryl figures it is because they already got drank from, so the major fear for most is over.
Bijou is the first to zip in bat form down into Abraham’s shirt, getting him smirking as she moves around on his chest. He is snickering enough that Daryl slows down to not have to hear it. Fuckin’ hell.
Daryl glances over and spots leathery black Verity climbing into Maggie’s backpack before the light comes up too high in the sky. He is almost certain one of them is in Rick’s jacket pocket too, since all of a sudden it is bulging with something round. Not Malifus though, who walks along hooded and cloaked beside him. The sheriff does not seem to mind either presence.
Then Daryl feels a tiny weight, having barely noticed the movement of something so small. There is a cold little creature between his vest and shirt just on top of his shoulder, scratching around a little like it is trying to burrow in. He reaches onto his shoulder and cups the thing, pulling it out and spotting a hint of blond before curling his hands around it to protect from the sun. Taylon.
Realizing he is being claimed as a ‘ride’ but not wanting the little thing on his shoulder all damn day, Daryl instead drops the tiny bat just over three inches into his chest shirt pocket, closing the flap to block the sun. To his relief the little burrowing creature curls up and stills.
Every now and then he can feel a slight shift or Taylon will stretch then completely curl back up again like a discontented cat chasing a ray of sun to bask in. If that was it, Daryl might barely give it a second thought.
It is a little odd knowing it is not just a bat he carries though, picturing the wide lavender stare that is unlike all the rest. Imagining that man curled against his chest instead. Hell, Taylon looks a full decade younger than him and if he were alive, Daryl knows he might secretly think he was cute. Yeah… cute guys never just curl up on him like that.
It’s a bat.
As he walks he considers it a lucky thing that Taylon picked him to feed on since he dislikes him the least of all the vampires. He almost seems harmless and sadly sweet, though Daryl knows better.
Plus, nobody said anything nor shot him any stares. The other vampires do not seem to know about his lack of sexual experience. It is strange to keep a secret with a near stranger like that. He just knows that must be why Taylon reacted to his blood.
When Malifus calls for incoming walkers to be cleared some hours later, he pops his jacket pocket open and the first time he runs smack into Taylon, who materialized practically on top of him. After that, Daryl makes sure to stop walking before unbuttoning his jacket pocket when Taylon is needed.
When he is done clearing walkers, the colorful little bat disappears back into Daryl’s jacket. At one point he landed on Daryl’s shirt and the sun hit him, prompting the hunter to push him down in with a finger atop his head.
They pass through a small town and the vampires appear all of a sudden to descend on the place like locusts after Verity declares it clear of the living. Daryl feels fluttering on his chest and unbuttons his pocket, releasing Taylon to join the rest. The humans get to it of course, but in the time it takes to do one building the vampires can do four. Malifus opts to bring them to the largest building in town to spend the night, which is actually a library.
As they enter Adelaide takes her baseball bat to a still full vending machine before gathering the tiny bags with Verity, Carol, and Tara, bringing them into the main area. It is full of tables, plush chairs for reading, plentiful couches for lounges, and plenty of windows though they are all equipped with blinds, which Vindar brings three-quarters of the way down since it is still daylight out.
Once Bijou and Taylon come in with arms full of supplies from town - some two liters and canned drinks, canned foods, and pasta. Bijou carries much of her stuff in a large stock pot. Seeing it, Verity declares she will make a stew if any humans care to help. So, Carol and Maggie follow her, heading into the library courtyard to begin a fire.
It makes Daryl all the more aware that they are adjusting to one another. On day one, nobody would have gone out of eyesight with a vampire like that. Nobody would have dared leave the group. He spots Rick and Malifus prowling the library border, seeing their lips moving in turn as they talk about something and for once he does not feel a pressure to go listen. Things are… strangely calm.
Almost like when they had claimed the prison, which feels like a million years ago. Like the safety of the vampires is a buffer for the walkers, just as the fences were. Plus, as Daryl passes a lengthy conference style table that the rotating ‘search team’ is putting their finds on, he thinks that they have not been so well fed since leaving the prison either.
Sure, it is a little tit for tat with the vampires having fed on them now, but it is not that bad in practice.
Bijou grabs Taylon’s hand once their final finds are set on the table. “Let’s check for yours and Adelaide’s.”
“It won’t have mine.” Adelaide says from nearby, where she was sat showing a drawing technique to Carl with an empty notebook they had found. “This town is too small for a European publisher.”
“Then yours.” Bijou is firm on wanting to, so Daryl wonders if that is the reason Taylon goes along with her. Then again, the vampires do seem to have preferences for each other, and these two tend to stay near to one another. Wonder if it’s ‘cause they’re youngest? Although thinking that about someone triple, quadruple, or more his age is so peculiar.
The library’s center space is open and sprawling so when Daryl stands near a window with a lit cigarette he can keep an eye on most everyone. He watches Michonne rocking Judith before laying her in an empty return book bin that he knows is lined with blankets. Carl tries to copy what Adelaide shows him, looking more relaxed than he has in weeks. Eugene is off pouting into a volume on his own - don’ trust tha’ one .
There is a balcony area, a bit like a loft. It is full of chairs and has a nice bay window but mostly it is something of a children’s nook so he is surprised to see Taylon and Bijou making a beeline for it. They descend on shelves, then Bijou starts to squeal and they race down the stairs like a couple of bounding kids. Particularly funny on Taylon, who it fits a little less, particularly given that he seems to have a penchant for casual suits.
Bijou plops herself on an empty table, with Taylon taking a more respectable seat on an actual chair. They lean over the book, sharing a giggle before closing it a few minutes later. Daryl finishes his smoke before they are done, so he pops into the courtyard to check on Carol and Maggie. Both still alive, and trying to figure out which of the five spices they have to put into the stew. Verity tells them what she would put in before remarking wistfully, “I used to make this for my family.” Daryl thinks he overhears it is more a question of quantity between Carol and Maggie as he ducks out.
Hell, couldn’ bother thinkin’ of spices ‘n’ shit a couple weeks ago.
The book that the two young(ish?) vampires had found is sitting on the table, though they themselves are gone. He glances around but neither is in the main hall. Then he hears a moan from the direction of the bathroom and realizes from the deepness of it that it is Abraham.
Then a high pitched giggle that blooms into a groan is heard and Daryl realizes why the center area is suddenly mostly clear. Everyone must have left when those idiots started screwing around. Fuck’s sake. He has half a mind to break it up, or tell Rick. He is sure someone else will beat him to the latter though. Guess Bijou is done wastin’ time.
I did wonder what vampires write about. His gaze flits to the table where the book rests. On the front is a long eared pink rabbit, rather cartoony and cutesy, with a near identical magenta bunny behind it.
The name on the cover is not Taylon though. It says Rupert Claybrook as the author and Bijou Anouilh as illustrator. It is titled ‘The Person Just For Me’ with ‘volume one’ in the corner. The name is perplexing, but the thought of vampires writing books is bewildering enough to intrigue him. Especially kids’ books. It is a few decades old, despite the modern looking art. Written when he was a kid, in fact.
I’m going out on a journey.
A journey to another city.
I hope someone just for me will find me there.
The pink rabbit is pictured on a winding yellow road that runs into the sky, heading towards a single overly cartoony five point yellow star. Daryl flips the page, trying to ignore the sudden, heated exclamation in French that springs into the air.
But as expected, there isn’t anyone for me in this city either.
Everyone has someone already.
That is something I know well.
I know because I am me.
Okay that is kind of odd. Real wordy to Daryl. Not exactly a normal kids’ book but he powers on because that only makes it more intriguing. The pink rabbit stands center of the page, eyes closed as it holds the shining star from before that it had been traveling towards on the prior page, looking content.
A person that will like me for who I am.
A person that will like me even if I can’t make his dreams come true.
But… does a person like that exist?
It would be nice if that person exists.
His. That’s a very particular gender choice. Just ‘cause a pink bunny’s gotta be a girl. He decides, figuring it is a children’s book after all. Daryl flips the page curiously, glad the room is empty. The two rabbits stare back at one another on a blue page.
Will that person really like me and only me?
It would be nice if that were true.
Will that person really ask nothing of me?
If that person can’t like me for who I am, then that person isn’t for me.
The two colored rabbits were pictured staring at one another, each page asking ‘Really?’ before Daryl flipped it while an awkward feeling licked at him slow but steady.
Does that person really exist? The darker rabbit asked the cutesy pink one, getting a nod on the opposite page before the darker one asked, Then where?
The next page makes Daryl feel badly as the pink rabbit is on the side, staring adoringly into the starry sky at that one larger, yellow star. Now it is out of reach. He figures this is the ‘bambi’s mother’ moment of the book. Yet as he turns the page, the bunny is simply clutching its chest with closed eyes.
Probably very close.
I’m sure the person I can like is in a place not too far away.
The person just for me.
That confuses him as Daryl turns the page and it is over. He thought it was only just getting going. What a weird ending… weird book… Kinda sad but sweet, like him.
Daryl leaves it where he found it, deciding now is a good time to follow the others’ lead and take some time away with Bijou and Abraham finishing whatever the hell they are doing.
He knows, he just hates thinking of it.
Later that evening Abraham is the center of attention and the focus of the conversation for a long while. Sure Rick told him off, but that does not stop certain questions from coming up. Glenn is particularly intrigued and even Eugene lingers on the fringe of the cluster. Daryl was just passing by the group and overhears Abraham saying, “Cold tits - great tits but freezing. Fucking banshee!”
“Was all of her cold?” Daryl overhears an awkward but curious Glenn ask and is glad he was already walking in the opposite direction. It is a certain kind of disgusting to find them all gathered around to hear what the hell the sex was like. More like the shit Merle’s friends would do.
“Dad, Judith’s not asleep where I left her.” Carl says to Rick with worry, Daryl catching it from a bookcase over. He quickly alters direction and heads to the book return bin, peering in and seeing an empty indentation in the blankets. Daryl’s spine goes rigid.
“I’ll check north, you south.” Daryl tells him as soon as he gets near enough to catch Rick’s eye.
“Back here in three.”
They quickly fan out and begin scouring the area, with everyone they run into immediately dropping what they are doing to join in the search - vampire and human alike. When the vampires use speed to check the whole building, ten minutes is unnecessary.
As they all fill back in, Daryl looks around for who is missing. Judith is not old enough to get away on her own yet, after all. He counts all the humans and then when he counts the vampires, he only counts six. Not seven.
“Where is Verity?” Malifus sternly asks the others, coming to the same realization as Daryl just a few seconds sooner.
When the other vampires deny having seen her, Malifus bares his fangs and demands she be found. He turns a dour and disappointed eye to Rick, “I think I understand what is happening… She will not hurt the child.”
“Where’s my daughter?” Rick demands, tempering his rage just barely. It bubbles under the surface for all to see just the same.
“We’ll find her.” Malifus answers before the vampires all turn into bats and begin to fly off. For a minute Daryl is genuinely terrified that they are stealing Judith and this was their grand plan all along.
Except, within a minute, a bat returns and turns into Vindar. The sizeable man gestures to them to follow. “We found her in a field, but we only want Rick to come.”
Fuck that. Carl is hightailing it after his already running father and Daryl is right on the kid’s heels. Rick might need a hand and he does think the vampires are up to something. They follow fleet footed Vindar, who slows at times to let them catch up despite them running hard as they possibly can. Daryl’s chest heaves as they round a fence and enter into a park. At least it is open and walker free, full of a few fields and a smattering of playground equipment.
Malifus and Adelaide are both behind Verity, who is staring ahead at one of the fields. Daryl can see Judith in her arms and a slight shift proves the baby is still alive, though it does not relax him much. Daryl lifts his crossbow and trains it on Verity’s head, ready to fire the second she releases that baby.
“Verity.. Can you hear me?” Malifus says firmly yet quietly while stepping up at her from the side as the humans come to a stop. Rick staggers forward, only for Adelaide to put her hand up in a gesture to stop.
“Please… I want my baby back.” Verity whispers to Malifus, voice tortured and words sounding like each one has to crawl over broken glass in her throat to get out.
“This is Rick’s daughter.” Malifus keeps that firm but not harsh voice going, now at her elbow. He sets a hand on her shoulder. “Verity, do you know what you have done?”
“My baby boy..” Verity whispers despondently while pressing Judith a little more firmly against her bosom. She does not react to the touch other than to cradle the child. “I want my children.”
“Shhh..” Adelaide hushes her from the side, leaning in and gently sliding her hands beneath Judith. Although Verity outright whimpers, she does not fight the loss save for leaning into Adelaide and trying to hold onto Judith, but Adelaide is insistent on steadily moving without yanking the child.
“You committed a grave crime, Verity.” Malifus says with authoritarian firmness yet there is a disappointment in his voice too. It reminds Daryl of a principle that gives a damn actually being disappointed in you.
“I’m sorry.” Adelaide whispers to Verity before backing away with Judith in her arms. She keeps the child to her chest while backing up towards Rick, who moves forward.
It causes Verity to fall to her knees in tears. She sobs, “I just… their bodies… so still.”
Adelaide speed walks back the few yards to the humans, passes Judith over to her nervous wreck father, and then gestures with her hands as if trying to herd them out. “You have to go back to the library now. She will pay for the crime, but we still owe her dignity at the end.” Adelaide is firm to Rick, who looks ready to start screaming as soon as he finishes checking that Judith is all there. It unnerves Daryl to see him clutching at her with such worry.
The whole scene is frightening enough. Verity sounds incredibly broken and lost. Hell, she clearly did not even know Judith was Judith. The most important thing is they have her back. Daryl spots Rick peeling back clothes and knows he is checking for bites, but there are none. She really did just… want a baby.
Fuck. Verity must have been dead hundreds of years, but she is still mourning her baby? ‘I want my children.’ Multiple kids then, fuck. It strikes Daryl just what a loss they likely have all been through, as every one would have lost their families decades ago. What a screwed up existence.
They barely beat Malifus back to the library. He stiffly asks Rick to join him once he finishes putting Judith down. The sheriff simply clutches her close to his chest, throwing a narrow stare to Malifus. He might not be responsible but Daryl knew Rick would hold him to it since it was one of Malifus’ own people.
Ferdinand and Vindar are on perimeter duty, but even they approach when Malifus whistles. Daryl knows Rick is ready to rip into him, but watches him gather the vampires around a table. Then Malifus drops two long, bloody fangs onto it and everyone goes silent.
“Verity committed a kidnapping of a human, and has been sentenced accordingly. We are a group of six now.” Malifus gives them a second to absorb that startling fact as all their eyes rest on the fangs on the table. He stiffly adds, “One night of mourning.”
Bijou suddenly screams bloody murder at the top of her lungs and grabs her own fangs, pulling them while still screaming like a speared banshee. She does not stop until hers are ripped out, flinging the half bloodied, pearly crescents onto the table with Verity’s. All while screaming the worst sound Daryl thinks he has ever heard.
Notes:
Oh shit, kidnapping! Penance death! And Daryl read an adorable kids' book... because that's balance!
What do we think will happen next?
Anyone who knows Chobits, doesn't it fit Taylon?
Chapter Text
After Bijou’s scream, it takes a good ten minutes just to stop Judith’s onslaught of crying. The noise disturbed everyone but startled Judith so badly that Rick could not actually talk to Malifus for some time. He knew his priorities and after nearly losing her, the guy just needs to hold his baby girl.
After she turned into a bat and flittered away, Daryl spotted Bijou in her regular form lying outside on the ground on her side. Motionless and dead looking. Nobody approached her, so neither did he.
All the vampires had gone quiet. Their guards returned to patrolling. Taylon had taken his notebook and retreated up into the balcony with the children’s section. Daryl supposes he might be reading his other volumes for comfort.
Adelaide stares into the distance in thought most of the time. Just quietly sitting at a table with an eerie unblinking stare. All while Malifus finally looks to have lost that collected, settled state; The way he walks through the world in a measured way because he owns it.
The humans stick close to one another once again, though Daryl suspects the danger has passed. He thinks, particularly after Bijou’s reaction, that Verity is surely dead. A second death. A little later on, his suspicion is confirmed when Rick tells him late in the night that once he got a chance to talk to Malifus, that he admitted the penalty was death and that vampires are meant to follow a strict code of conduct, which Verity broke.
“This the end of the agreement?” Daryl asks him as they sit together while many others sleep. The humans are back to keeping up their own watch now.
“Thinking about it.” Rick answers in uncertainty, sounding like he is still weighing his options. The danger seems to have been singular and very personal, but it clearly rattled him enough to second guess the decision to let the vampires help them. “Or at least, if they have a code I want to know what it is.”
“Me too.” Daryl says it and means it. He needs to know what the hell kind of playing field the vampires are operating on, particularly if they are going to stay with them. Verity’s theft of Judith is a reminder how tentative the peace between them is.
“You can ask your questions.” A heavy, deep voice states behind them. It almost makes Daryl jump, having not noticed anyone nearby. Instead, he scowls as Malifus rounds the bookcase behind them, brow raised.
“What the fuck was that about?” Daryl spits out while Rick struggles to choose the first question.
Malifus’ gaze moves between the pair of them before settling back on Daryl. He knows the hunter was in the park and saw the whole scene unfold just as well as Rick did. He actually takes a seat on the ground beside them, back against the bookcase. “She has paid for her offense with her life and I will not speak a word against her.” The heavy admission then confirms what Daryl suspected - the fangs were simply proof of disposal. “You never compromise the safety of a human under your protection.” Daryl glances at him, curious on that since they were basically no better than cattle to vampires in a way.
“That a law?” Rick asks.
“It’s a code.” Malifus corrects the former cop. “We don’t have law enforcement, in your way. As we are operating as an official branch however, we are particularly bound.”
“Bound by?”
“Rules. Society will not get any better with chaos.” Malifus points out. “What we do is both a job and a duty.”
“Because if we die out, you do?” Daryl does not mince words, sensing they might finally hash out some honesty between them so he goes for the raw truth.
“It is more akin to us going from eating meat to being vegetarian.” Malifus quantifies it. “But yes.”
“If it’s a job, do you get paid?” Glenn asks from the side suddenly, prompting all three men to turn and stare at him after catching him eavesdropping. “Sorry - can’t sleep,” he sheepishly explains why he was listening in.
Malifus nods at him though.
“Really?” Rick asks incredulously.
“Our economy is one of bartering than a currency, though. We have years on, and years off. Adelaide and I have apartments on both coasts.”
“The two of you?” Glenn questions.
“She is my wife.” Malifus states simply, which Daryl thinks shocks them all. It damn well surprises him. They never acted romantic or anything personable. Never showed closeness, aside from Adelaide clearly being his number two.
“You still get married?” Rick questions of vampires, earning a stare in return from Malifus.
“We are just humans that have died.” Malifus reminds him. “Our differences are not as great as you imagine. Though I understand, Hollywood did a number on you.” Although it is a little patronizingly said, Daryl knows he has taken movie lore and used it in his own head. They have nothing else to go on, save for what the vampires show them. “Adelaide became blood bonded to me when I turned her. Vampires tend to only have a handful of responses when newly turned - bonding to their soulmate if they are near, though it is more normal that they kill a human nearby. Usually unfortunately a loved one is trying to save their life and failing to move away when the instinct first hits. Lastly, just plain screaming. I am told Verity screamed when she was turned.”
The living men grow quiet at the mention of what happened earlier.
“I do not say it to excuse her, for taking your child is unforgivable and deserving of the sentence as it was given.” Malifus states with such a firm yet roundabout way. It makes Daryl wonder what the hell those final moments in the park had been like for him. “Verity was found in rubble during wartime by Bijou, with the bodies of her children. She was inconsolable. It was my mistake not realizing being around a baby would affect her.”
Wasn’ that years ago? Daryl thinks, wondering how Malifus could have spotted that. Aside from treating Judith like a cute baby, Verity had not given off any tells that she was losing it. For a second, Daryl thinks of Carol when she saw Sophia stagger out of the barn as a walker.
“Before Carl, Lori had a miscarriage.” Rick quietly admits, reticent and reflective. “I thought it was the worst pain imaginable.”
“Losing family never fades.” Malifus admits. “The pain does, not the loss.”
Tha’s fuckin’ haunting.
Yet, somehow Daryl knows Rick is thinking they might be alright after all. As they sit together, feeling not quite so far apart, he finds himself wondering what such a long lifespan would be like. Years peeling away like the pages on a book, turning end over end while the world spins into a different version of itself every few years.
Blessing or a curse?
In the morning Rick confirms that they will stick with the vampires, who remain a mostly dour bunch. He also tells them that they are staying put in the library for the day. It will give them a chance to rest, though a quick glance at the way Rick side-eyes the fanged group suggests it is more a kindness. Daryl recalls Malifus declaring a state of mourning, so it seems Rick is fine with giving them the day.
Daryl makes his rounds through the building, spotting Bijou still laying out front on her side. He avoids that area on his next sweep. As Daryl takes a set of stairs, he is surprised to find someone sitting in the window. The day is cloudy and they are cloaked. Still, it is far from the main area that the group is staying in.
Then again, they are mourning.
“Hi.” Taylon gingerly greets Daryl when he glances over, looking a little startled. Now that Verity is gone, he is the only vampire giving off any kind of meekness.
The hunter simply nods in greeting and would have left it there, except Taylon watches every step he takes. When Daryl reaches the landing where Taylon’s window is, he turns narrow eyes on him. “What?” Daryl half barks out, a little unnerved by the slight haze to Taylon’s stare.
“I’m…. I’m hungry.” Taylon quietly admits, as if expecting the hunter to tell him off or balk. His gaze does not rise to meet Daryl’s eyes as he speaks. “When I.. drank from you I was surprised and.. and I stopped drinking early.” No need to say why he was surprised.
Daryl glances down at the puncture wound in his arm while Taylon recedes in on himself a bit, almost like he hates himself for opening his mouth. Daryl knows that feeling too well.
“Never mind.” Taylon then adds in an expedient apologetic voice that makes the hunter wince at how quickly he backtracks like a kicked dog.
“Fine.” Since it did not feel anything too terrible and he hardly has a ferocious beast before him, Daryl finds himself agreeing. There is nothing intimidating about Taylon, not like the other vampires. His meekness actually makes Daryl more inclined to help him. So he holds out the same arm, prompting the vampire to leap from the window and land before him with wide, eager purple eyes.
Same as yesterday, Taylon takes a gentle, careful hold of Daryl and licks at his forearm to dull the skin before he begins. Having that cold tongue lapping at him immediately makes Daryl wish he had a cigarette in his hands. Abraham had said freezing, but he just finds it mildly cold. Not uncomfortably so.
Then he flinches when the fangs unexpectedly sink in, nearly on the same spot as before. Once again, it is not so bad after a couple seconds. Yet, just like before, Taylon softly moans at the taste of his virgin blood.
Daryl lifts his arm a little and Taylon follows, stepping backwards and hitting the wall. His head tips back, staying on Daryl’s arm. His neck is exposed, letting Daryl spot two faded, identically sized scars - fang marks. He eyes the man, knowing he could pin Taylon right here, leaving him moaning. It sure as hell does not feel like a simple feeding.
For a second it makes him think of Abraham and Bijou’s caterwauling from the bathroom. Abraham probably pinned her to a wall, like he is fixing to do all of a sudden. The hell?
“Why is… that what you guys like?” Daryl’s voice is thick on the question, trying to throw up some sort of distraction to his lascivious mind.
Taylon glances downward and immediately gets a shadow across his face that did not come on from any shade. He pants, thankfully just once, when he pulls his teeth off. “Would you want to eat some food that had.. intimate things done to it?”
How many decades old and he ain’t even gonna say sex?
Although he knows he is not exactly verbose and forward either, he thinks Taylon sounds just as innocent as him. Hell, maybe even a bit moreso. The shorter man lowers his jaw back down, returning his teeth into Daryl’s arm and continuing to suck on it eagerly. Daryl stares at him through narrow eyes, turning a little hot under the collar.
When Taylon pulls out for good and lets his tongue lap at the bloody wounds, easing the sudden minor pain a little, Daryl waits patiently while staring at him. The little handkerchief is folded neatly and returned to his jacket pocket before he straightens up a little, still looking that strange gray-flustered.
“Taylon ain’t yer name, is it?” Daryl finally asks to break the quiet and sate his own curiosity when Taylon slips the cloth back into his pocket and appears finished.
“It is. Why do you ask, sir?”
“Just wondered.” Daryl answers a little stiffly, not sure why the hell he gets addressed with a title. He sure as hell is not a man to be respected, let alone by something that, in spite of appearances, can probably kill him with a snap of his dainty fingers.
“Although, it was not when I was alive.”
Rupert Claybrook. Daryl thinks of the name on the cover of the book. It could have very well been a pen name but when he stares at Taylon, he thinks he does look more like a Rupert.
After letting his stare flicker across Daryl’s face, Taylon admits with hesitant shyness. “When you turn, you can choose a new name.”
“You chose Taylon?” Daryl asks in sheer shock. Out of all the names in the world, how the hell did he end up with Taylon? Then the little vampire’s gaze turns downward, half lidded stare now slightly dejected, causing Daryl to realize his incredulity probably sounded an awful lot like an insult. Shit.
They steep in the awkward silence for a minute before Daryl mumbles something about hunting and takes off down the stairs. He wishes he could take the words back or at least change the tone, because he did not mean to hurt the quiet guy just minutes after he was moaning around Daryl’s arm.
“I heard you're going hunting.” A voice interrupts while Daryl’s hand is on the library door. He growls agreeably in his throat and then flings open the door, taking off. “Best to not go alone.” With footfalls coming after his own, Daryl realizes he has company so he glances back and finds Adelaide at his elbow.
They only need to take a brief stroll before the town turns back to woods. As Daryl strides forward Adelaide sniffs the wind. “Two east, three miles in. One west, a mile and a half.”
“Deer?” Daryl’s words are questioning and perplexed, not realizing they could smell that well.
“Yes.”
With that information he shifts towards the west, since one deer is enough for this group. The meat will be good after the constant canned stuff. Adelaide falls into step and she is properly quiet. A damn decent show at not scaring off the critters like a novice would be.
They move swiftly and goddamn that woman, but about a mile and a quarter out he sees it. A nice looking doe pulling the bark off a tree with only her hind legs on the ground. Daryl raises his crossbow to take aim and suddenly a blur of movement stills him. Then the deer is outright pinned to the tree under Adelaide’s experienced and slender fingers. It squirms and brays in a high-pitched panic but Adelaide is like a leaden paperweight on top of a single post-it.
“Ain’t sportin’.” Daryl remarks while stepping over with his crossbow and taking aim all the same. He knows she is waiting for him to finish it.
“Maybe from that angle,” Adelaide is not as judgmental with her words as he expected. She has a measured way about her that, now that he thinks about it, does go with Malifus’ steadiness.
Daryl finally pulls the trigger to fire the bolt before he raises a brow at her. She could have snapped its neck - hell, maybe it was her that caught the first deer. She was only here to make sure he was not alone. Yet she hefts the now dead deer over her shoulder like it is a pillow and rises to her feet, following Daryl on the walk back like the strangest hunting dog he has ever had.
When they pass the front of the library, he notes that Adelaide gives Bijou a wide berth. Now that Daryl can see her from the front he is disturbed by bloody tear tracks down her face and a second set from her mouth. She looks gorgeously grotesque. The fangs on the table..
“That.. normal?” Daryl mutters, appreciating that vampires have good hearing for once so he does not need to raise his voice during uncomfortable conversations.
“The pulling of fangs is a most painful experience. Regrowing them is no joy either. But our fangs are important and ritualistic.” Adelaide waits until they have gone around the back to add, “Everyone mourns in their own way.”
Bijou needs to feel the most intense and visceral depths of her pain. That sort of fits her. Still, even he can imagine how much rage there must be in order to drive someone to do that if it really is the worst pain imaginable for them. So like gettin’ kicked in the nuts?
Adelaide leaves the deer in the side yard for Daryl to gut and she moves away from him, sitting on a stoop of the library. He guesses she is being a guard for him, since nobody else is around. He gets to gutting the deer, flinging the guts and the unnecessary exterior as far as possible. Once he is down to just meat he takes it into the courtyard for Carol to fry for tonight’s dinner.
The one unnecessary thing he does take is the legs. He gets the butcher knife and hacks them off. He offers one to Adelaide once finished, and then gives her a second to give away. Then Daryl leaves her, heading up the back staircase with the last two in his hands. His eyes linger on the window where Taylon had been earlier, but it is empty. Dammit.
Daryl heads further into the library, letting his eyes search the windows and seats. He finds Taylon alone in the historical fiction section, on his back stretched on a lounge sofa that had been dragged between shelves to be out of the windows’ reach.
Even for a library book, the one in his hands is so dog-eared that the cover is practically completely worn away. A faded, old fashioned shadow of an image of a heterosexual couple staring at one another from some romance novel barely remains. Likely due to the cover damage and fact the title is not even legible anymore, the library has added an inch thick slipcover running the length of it that reads ‘Historical: Penny Romance 1930s, Milton.’
When Daryl approaches, Taylon lays the book down on his chest, keeping it spread open to save the page he is on. He sits up a little, lips parting but Daryl does not let him speak.
“Here.” Daryl drops the pair of deer legs on the end of the sofa and then immediately turns and walks away.
“Thank you.” He hears while walking off, gentle and bearing a tad of curiosity. Though Daryl is unwilling to turn back, he is glad his gift is accepted. Maybe he has not offended the little vampire too badly.
If they are not going to break with the vampires, then Daryl would rather not make Taylon hate him.
“You are such an ass,” Ferdinand mutters from just behind Daryl. He has fallen back a few steps, near the end of the group as they walk along the next day. They have made excellent miles all day, likely from everyone being well rested.
“Yeah? Yet you still love me,” Vindar answers with snide confidence and adoration in equal measure. That is what sticks out about the comment between the chatter. That and the fact that they are the buffest, probably most butch pair of the lot of vampires yet clearly… are a couple. Just like Adelaide and Malifus, Daryl did not see that pairing coming either. Maybe they need each other now.
“Exactly. Which of us is stupider?” Ferdinand answers with a groan, before chuckling at that. When Daryl glances back, they are holding hands. It is almost, weirdly, nice to see two men being open in that way, even if it makes him slightly uncomfortable since he could never dream of being that open with anybody.
Malifus and Adelaide… Ferdinand and Vindar… Verity was alone.. Bijou is anybody’s. Daryl bites back a snicker at that thought as it feels unkind. Today the woman is quietly moving along, wincing every now and then. She spent the morning in Malifus’ bag but the afternoon out. As he walks along running through the vampires like a checklist, he comes to the last one who happens to be in his shirt pocket at the moment. Taylon seems unattached.
Not just single but alone and… like he thinks about it; That romance novel on his chest yesterday, and the way the kids’ book he seems to have written talks about finding that special someone. Daryl would have never thought of vampires as romantic or anything, but they certainly seem to be. Some of them, anyway.
The two men behind him definitely are. Taylon seems to be, or wants to at least.
As if he summoned the devil by thinking of him, Taylon suddenly appears before him. The hunter’s hard, flat chest hits him and they both jerk away from one another. Daryl immediately brings on a glare, though as he glances around he notices all the other vampires have gone as still as Taylon. He eyes the shorter man’s still, wide eyed look. Nervous, like a rabbit.
The hell makes a vampire nervous? Well, besides talking about certain subjects. Taylon is easy to unnerve. No, it is the rest of them that concern Daryl.
Even Malifus is looking unsettled as he turns sideways, head tipped back as he sniffs a long draw of the wind. “West.” He affirms out loud, sounding definitive. “We go east.” He nods to Adelaide and then turns around completely and faces the mortals that had been behind him. “Humans, you move fast, you move steadily, and if we tell you to do something you do it IMMEDIATELY.”
They take off from the road, with the vampires ushering the humans along as fast as they go. Vindar and Ferdinand fall back, with Malifus likewise landing near the end of the human pack. Daryl thinks Malifus is there to ensure nobody falls behind, because that is why Daryl falls to the back, too. He nudges Carol along at one point.
Then Daryl hears a feral, lupine howl.
Notes:
Oh shit, what is going to happen next?
Throw in a comment if you think everything will work out fine! Or throw down a comment to tell me how fucked up things are about to get! Dudes, I just want to hear what you think of it.What do you think of Taylon?
Chapter 8: Sinking Fangs
Notes:
Someone said they needed this; I am nothing if not obliging… lol sometimes - but hell sure, early chapter!! I don’t get many comments on this outside of the person it was written for, so I got excited.
I’m posting this from a farmer’s market that is being rained out. I can sell cookies and post gay fanfic - what a time to be alive!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It is daylight, but the light is fading. In less than a half-hour it will be nightfall. They would have been off the road by now except it was so empty out here. Just long stretches of single lane road.
They take off through the woods with Taylon and Bijou far ahead at the front. Abraham and Tara leap just behind them, weapons drawn and ready. Everyone heard the howl but he wonders if a werewolf would be out so early. Then again, vampires do not burn up in the sun and die, so who knows?
Suddenly a large brown mountain rushes through the middle of the group and a woman’s voice screams. A black blur is on it, starting up a monstrous yowling with an occasional yap. Daryl lifts his bow but is not sure where to aim at the flinging fur.
“Keep runnin’!” He shouts to Carol, pushing at her back so she keeps moving while he rounds on the two fighting forms. A second black blur leaps onto the brown mountain that now stops, shaking itself like an oversized dog that has not been brushed in months. Its features are that of a wolf, though more muscular.
A fuckin’ werewolf! Daryl then spots another monumental brown figure racing towards him, firing a bolt at that one. He is fairly certain the small black blurs are the vampires, but they fight so fiercely and fast that it is hard to tell. The werewolf howls and stumbles from his bolt getting lodged in its shoulder, but then rights itself and keeps running.
Suddenly a hand grabs his forearm, yanking Daryl along. “Come!” Malifus barks at him. He gets pushed harshly.
Someone screams close by and it is laden with masculine, raw agony. There is a long howl after the scream is cut off and Malifus’ breathing grows heavy. Still he nudges Daryl along like he had been doing to Carol a few minutes ago.
Then a brown form out of the corner of his eye rams him like a Mac truck and Daryl hits the dirt with every breath of air knocked out of him. He reaches for his crossbow as soon as he finds his hand empty, grunting as he crawls a couple of steps to reach it. When Daryl flips onto his back with the bow up he is being lunged at, but fires just in time to send the monster sprawling and howling a few feet away. Daryl kicks it in the muzzle before pushing himself to his feet and running off as fast as his feet could carry him.
As he turns over his shoulder, Daryl spots Malifus lunging at the werewolf with claws extended, grasping it by its hind legs. His new fight slows the creature and Daryl rushes away, checking around him for any more of the bastards. By now the rest of the human group has run off, so there is no one else around when Daryl loses sight of Malifus and the werewolf.
More than one… Hell, ain’t they a pack animal? Daryl listens but hears no other screams, grateful that it seems like his group has gotten away. Though he has no idea which direction they ended up in. The trees are thick in this part of the woods, obscuring most of the night’s sky. It is dark and quiet, until a twig snaps.
Then he hears a low, lupine snarl and pushes his heel hard into the ground in his zeal to escape. Daryl turns over his shoulder, looking at the creature. Gangly, almost five feet tall while running on all fours. Absolutely monstrous and unlike anything he has ever seen before. Fuck, it is gaining on him. Near enough that he now hears the thud of its paws with each step and the lupine panting from its open maw that sports glistening, dog-drool coated teeth with a pair of fangs that must be at least six times that of a vampire’s.
Daryl turns to aim his crossbow while running, which is probably where he goes wrong. He should have stopped. Instead, his steps carry on.
Then the earth falls out from under him.
Suddenly Daryl is tumbling end over end, grunting as he hits the ground at an angle. It is not flat and he keeps going down. He yelps as agony takes hold when he hits something hard, probably a rock. He has no time to absorb the pain, spinning down as he falls like a puppet with its strings cut. Daryl is sure he is not going to stop when he suddenly lurches to a stop.
He just hits something and everything changes. Daryl’s breath shudders as an even worse pain roars through him. Seering, blinding agony that focuses itself on his chest then fans its way out. Daryl takes in a quivering breath again but only manages to get it halfway in, going a little limp. His body feels weak as a kitten all of a sudden.
Daryl reaches to his chest, shaking hand fingering a stiff, bloody branch. Thick, six inches across and snapped. A young tree that had broken. It is sticking right out of his chest and Daryl realizes as he slumps further that this is it for him. A fucking treebranch through him.
Of all the things, he dies in the woods? Dies falling off something he would have never missed on a normal day, in a one in a million moment? How fair is that?
Still, he takes a deep breath but it stalls halfway. His lips tremble, realizing he will never breathe deeply again. Someone shouts in the distance but it is like hearing noise underwater. His limbs are turning to lead and he thinks that if they reach him and brain him before he turns, that it will be enough for him not to be a walker.
Maybe not the best life, or the best end, but it was good at the end, he thinks. A little nice there. Good with Rick and Carol, and all the rest. Coulda been worse. Then Daryl just wearily closes his eyes, more goddamn tired than he has ever felt in his life. He is faintly aware of hands wrapping around his shoulders and something wet hitting his neck before his body snaps into a convulsion like a thousand volts passing through him.
Then Daryl’s consciousness slips away and he is sure…
He is dead.
Daryl is sure he died…
He knows how it feels to have his heart stop, because that memory is there in his head even if all of a sudden he does not know why. Abrupt pain, and then nothingness. Like gently slipping away at first, until that last pain.
Daryl Dixon had to have died from that horrific, fatal chest wound, yet his eyes flutter open with tired, slow growing awareness.
Something cool and yielding but not unpleasant rests between his mouth. Not a gag or anything. Daryl drags his tongue slowly over the thing, realizing it is flesh. Eyes barely able to open, colors swarm in his vision. When he tries to open his mouth, Daryl realizes he is a little stuck. His teeth seem to be buried into the appendage thrust into his mouth. A slight flexing of his jaw and flaring of his lips confirms two of his top teeth stuck into flesh. Sweet, cozy fluid flows past his tongue like a savory syrup. The flavor is too appealing to make him tear his mouth away.
That and the tiredness. Fuck, but if he ran through the woods all day he would still only feel half as exhausted as this. He feels like he can barely lift his head, let alone yank himself away. Confused and a little thirsty, he swipes his tongue over the flesh and more fluid flows. Daryl sucks it in and is perplexed to hear a soft, pleasured purr in return.
The fluid is thinner than syrup but tastes just as good except savory. Almost gamey, except it lacks that distinctive touch. Not fowl. Not beef. Not goat. Not even possum.
Daryl has sampled all the forest has to offer but this flavor eludes and perplexes him. It also entices him. Never before had anything tasted so infallibly perfect. Savory yet sweet, like every flavor Daryl enjoys has been rolled together and then deep fried.
Why and how never reach his mind. Only the electric feelings that are ripping through his worn out frame that he is surprised to find himself keeping upright, albeit barely. His cock is warm and hard, drawing his attention. Like he woke up erect, and his cock found somewhere nice to burrow into. Better than waking up in the midst of a wet dream. Daryl flexes his hips, feeling that encasing rigidity teases him into a more wakeful state.
He does not think about much, feeling like his mind is walking along a tunnel. Nothing outside the tunnel matters except what lies at the end, which in Daryl’s case is, for whatever reason, is a body he has an arm around.
Daryl ignores the faint sound of voices that seem to be coming from a floor away. He presses his hips forward with a raging need, realizing a sleek, pale back is beneath him when he lifts his lips and glances down through dizzy eyes. His pelvis is pressed against a soft bit of cushioning.
Dizzy, he lifts his head slightly in the other direction and catches short, choppy blond strands. A blond halfway between white cream and haystack yellow. A slender nape swims in his vision before Daryl focuses on it and is able to actually see it properly long enough to admire it.
Something says that pale neck looks beautiful, so he shoots his mouth over to it and finds that locking feeling taking over after a small thrust of his cock. A second later, Daryl realizes his teeth are buried in the slender neck, and that savory syrup flavor from before is starting to flow. It has just a coppery kick to it that Daryl finds especially appealing through the haze.
He growls, hips jerking as a little more life slips into him. There is a whimper below him and Daryl rolls his hips experimentally, feeling that gorgeous tightness accordioning around him.
Then Daryl growls as brief pain hits, only to be replaced by stomach-clenching delight as he looks down and spots that blond head latching onto his bicep, knowing from the feeling that fangs are sinking into Daryl’s arms. The hint of blood on his skin does not bother him.
His hips experimentally thrust again, feeling the body beneath his quiver and the fangs in his arms jerk slightly at the same time. Everything good in the world is focused around his cock, like an ethereal perfection. Daryl grunts and starts thrusting less jerkily and staggeringly, starting to get into a rhythm.
For a while nothing really matters except how good his body feels. That tiredness fades away, although his muscles are lackluster but it barely matters. He grips onto the body beneath his own and keeps rolling his hips, making that indescribably good feeling continue.
The whole time he only heard one word clearly. At one point he tightens his grip once he gets enough energy, drawing the body beneath him closer even while it bites the arm pulling at him. The fangs dislodge from his arm as a weight hits Daryl’s shoulder and a male voice desperately whispers, “More.”
It is the only voice he can hear clearly as he thrusts and it is soft and impassioned and almost kind even now.
He knows it is Taylon’s voice.
Yeah… yeah that is who is underneath him.
Daryl’s gaze is less dizzied and hazed as he looks past Taylon’s bare shoulder. Shreds of fabric on the ground around them. He should be startled by that and vaguely his mind is questioning what is going on, but that thought is dulled and quickly drowned out by a desire to keep rocking his hips and making those deliriously good feelings persist.
The soft cushioning he felt is Taylon’s ass, which his fingers swipe across. He has no idea when he reached down there at all, finding moments in time are blurring together. A heavy head of confusion does not feel like it is helping. That seems to prompt the vampire beneath him to arch up.
The way his ass is raised a little, poking out prominently, does bother Daryl. Taylon’s backside brushes against Daryl’s crotch in that position but as they are already locked together, the grinding just feels incredible. Daryl thrusts and vaguely his mind points out he ought to be reacting more. He woke up balls deep in some strange guy, which is a first.
Like being drunk, none of it seems to matter.
He is vaguely aware that the vampire is sprawled beneath him. Daryl recognizes some hard ground while his head spins as his hips buck suddenly. It is the first real hard, effortful movement he has been capable of. He starts thrusting a little faster, listening to the harsh panting coming out of Taylon’s mouth. It falls against his bicep, fast and wet. When Taylon’s body jerks Daryl can feel it in his arm from that latched mouth.
That perky little ass rubbing wantonly against Daryl is suddenly pinned beneath his hips. Bodies bare enough, Daryl shifts there on the ground until he sinks every last inch of himself into the needy figure under his hips. He hears Taylon whimper and he finally tears his mouth off his neck and sinks his teeth - so damn long and sensitive - into the back of the smaller man’s shoulder while keeping one arm around him.
Taylon continues gently working his teeth on that arm, but the pain has long subsided. It is more like a pleasant nibble with sensual, constant tongue. Taylon presses back, rubbing that perky little ass right against Daryl’s pubic mound as the hunter lingers on a downward thrust. Daryl responds with a snap of his hips and Taylon tightens his grip on Daryl’s arm, keening high pitched and needy in his throat like some wild animal. His own arm wraps tighter around the hunter’s more impressive bicep, as if in need of hanging on.
It never crosses his mind, but Daryl hears a growl come from a voice that sounds like his own. He even feels it rattle in his throat. It sounds more animalistic than him though. Except he never knowingly growled.
None of that matters. All he knows that he needs to do is to keep thrusting, which Daryl does. Slow and deep now, making sure to push himself into the tight depths of the figure beneath him. Something more than the desire welling in his belly tells him not to stop.
Taylon arches up into him a little and Daryl presses his chest more firmly down on his back, pushing him down into the ground. His teeth sink deeper until he feels Taylon squirm and whimper but he yields and stills. Then Daryl holds him there on the ground, vaguely wondering why he can pin the figure when he is still exhausted. The thought barely lasts a second as his well engulfed shaft takes center stage.
Daryl’s hips jerk sharply before Taylon cries out, the noise higher pitched and sticking in his throat. There should be a hell of a lot more thoughts in his head but Daryl just cherishes the tight heat. Keeps cherishing and thrusting, now faster that his body feels less exhausted.
Something feels so good and it lures him with the promise of better. Daryl keeps up his body’s movements, feeling like he is right in the groove of something promising. The feeling mounts until something seizes inside him. Daryl jabs his hips rapidly as the friction looms around his nethers like a too tight, cozy glove. Daryl drops his lips and is sure he gasped as he came, hips gyrating jerkily as he lets the feeling roll out of him.
As Daryl finally pulls out, awareness hits him that there should be more going on. He should be worried about this. He should be thinking a lot more. But Taylon actually releases a tiny whimper in his throat as Daryl shakes his arm and dislodges his fangs. Two gouge marks bleed freely now that they are not plugged by teeth. Hands fall on either side of Taylon, propping Daryl upright. He realizes he is not panting after the exertion, not even a huff.
Did I just have sex?
He leans back a little, queasy and uncertain. “What?” Daryl mutters to the mostly naked man beneath him, only just noticing he is all covered in scratches. It is like he can finally start to see what is actually in front of him. His eyes rake over that pale, slender figure sporting at least six different bloody sets of two close together holes, most bloody. He vaguely recalls sinking his teeth into a shoulder and notices a mark there on the back of Taylon’s shoulder, making his gut clench.
“You turned.. and claimed me as your mate.” Taylon explains very quietly, as if uncertain what will happen next and fearing rage. He stares over his shoulder at Daryl, all shadowy flustered and wide eyed.
And well fucked.
Notes:
Oh shit! Mating bonding!! Daryl went to town on his little vampire~ What did you guys think of his death??
Chapter Text
Turned… mate….
There are a lot of troubling words in that sentence that Daryl’s brain tries to compute all at once. “I’m a… I’m like ya?” Daryl staggers out the words unsteadily. He tries to remember what the hell happened, as it feels like hours melted away. Almost like being drunk, just without any hangover.
“Yes.” Taylon confirms bittersweetly. “You fell in the woods… I’m sorry, Mr. Dix- um… Daryl.” Taylon then yields a small smile, like he is savoring the closeness of saying his first name. His eyes do rest rather adoringly on Daryl now, sitting upright, looking sheer in his nudeness, and covered in dozens of signs of what just happened; Scratched, bitten, bruised, and a little dirty.
“Tell me what happened.”
“Exactly that. You fell and were impaled - it hit the heart.” When Taylon looks away from him Daryl follows his gaze, wincing as he sees a terribly bloody half foot thick branch just feet away from him. They have been fucking right next to where he…. died.
“Malifus asked Rick about turning you up on the ridge and I… I flew down and turned you before they decided. You… you didn’t look like you could… last another second.” Taylon explains apologetically, looking down to the ground at the sorrowful news.
“An’ then?” Daryl persists, the words clammy in his mouth. None of this makes any sense.
“When you turned you.. ah… you grabbed me… and pinned me to the ground…. Um, you…” Taylon continues not looking at him, fixated on the ground in spite of how close and bare they are together.
“What?” Daryl fears the answer even though he knows it already.
“Ripped our clothes off and… neither of us are virgins anymore.”
Fuck, he feels it in his bare, wet cock. He knows he came just moments ago. He thinks he came several times; It is like he hardly cared about the details then, but now it is all catching up to him. That lead weight sits on his chest, which he reaches up to and finds a round impression where a hole should be. His skin is so raw and sensitive, but it is there.
Daryl tips his head back, looking up at the cliff. How the fuck did I fall off that? Now it does not look so dark out here and he can see it is a nearly sheer drop, at least a hundred yards down. No wonder he fell so far.
Taylon sits up straight and leans in, pulling back a little when Daryl jerks away from the sudden movement. “Will you.. kiss me now?” Taylon asks delicately, almost fearful sounding. Daryl pulls back further, watching those lavender eyes turn down apologetically. “I’m sorry… I forget it’s a lot…”
The oddest part is, as overwhelmed as he is, Daryl does wonder how Taylon’s lips taste. There is already a heat inside him from imagining pinning Taylon to the ground and driving into him again, since that would be the inevitable result of their kiss...
What the hell was that thought?
Yet the concern outweighs that desire. He is still shocked to know he died. The branch impaled in him had been such a piercing pain. He cannot forget it. Though, he merely feels tired now. Once again he reaches up to his chest, fingertips brushing the sensitive, new flesh where a gaping chest wound ought to be.
“That will go away soon.” Taylon tells him. “All your scars and marks.”
All scars? Curious on that, Daryl reaches over his shoulder and strokes what he can reach of his own back. His father had whipped him with his belt something fierce when Daryl was a real rotten kid or well, the couple of times his daddy had caught him with a boy or two. He learned right quick about stopping that. There is only smoothness beneath his fingers now though, shocking Daryl. His body has changed and he does not hate it.
“Tattoos?” Daryl asks quietly, not sure why it matters but he wants to know what the hell is happening to his body.
“Still there.” Taylon answers gently without needing to check.
“What else’s diff’rent?”
“You’re paler and your eyes are darker. Almost black.” Talon glances away from Daryl. “It’s… very attractive.”
Everything goes quiet between them for a second after that. The second part of Taylon’s words and their bare forms finally catches up to his consciousness too much to be ignored. He knows he should feel a hell of a lot more embarrassed to have just been bent over a naked guy. Hell, Taylon’s bare legs are still touching him.
We just... had sex.
“Why’d you let me?” Daryl finally asks. By the look of the graying, healing scratches on Taylon and the clothing shreds scattered around them, it looks as though Daryl had grabbed Taylon and just, hell, ripped into him like a cake at a personal party for one. Surely if Taylon had spent decades as a virgin, then he was not easy or slutty. It made no sense to Daryl that Taylon had been into him, of all people.
Taylon considers the question for only a second before forming his response, stare nervously raising to meet Daryl’s. “I read enough about blood bonds to know that’s what you were doing. You can’t form one if you aren’t.. soul mates and.. after waiting so many years for you I am not going to push you away.” His voice grows softer but a little more desperate. “And… and I need you to kiss me because I.. I kept my first kiss safe for you, too.”
“I can’t do this.” Daryl's pulling away as his blood turns cold in his veins. There is too much desire and need in those pale lavender eyes. Everything is too much.
Daryl’s chest is heavy with a pressure that has nothing to do with his recent death. Worn out, a little thirsty, and confused, Daryl just shakes his head. Ignoring his nakedness and emotions, Daryl pushes himself up to his feet and begins to walk away, catching a slight sniffle in his wake.
Daryl does not get far wandering naked in the woods before Malifus approaches him with a stack of neatly folded clothes in his size and a stainless steel flask on top. The thought of its contents is instantly abhorrent to him. No way in hell is he killing people just for food.
He may not be a great or even a good person, but when he was at the prison with the others he was not bad. That is the kind of person he wants to stay.
Not a blood drinker.
So Daryl attempts to push past him, only to have his wrist suddenly clamped down by a shockingly strong hand. He might be stronger than Taylon, but at least in his tired state, Malifus has him under his thumb. “No.” His voice is as equally unyielding as his touch. “You are not in a state to wander alone yet.”
“Where’s Rick? An’ my people?” Daryl asks through gritted teeth as he is forced to stay still, but he does finally grab hold of the clothes, shoving them in front of his crotch to feel less exposed. Not that he feels the cold of the night, but it is being so bare publicly that disturbs him.
“They have gone ahead. We got the rest of them all away safely. That was a few hours ago.” Malifus’ words make him realize he was not mentally checked out for minutes but hours, which is an embarrassment too. Yet Malifus carries on like he did not just see Daryl mounting one of his workers, or whatever. “One of the possible reactions a newly turned vampire can have is intense hunger. It leads many newly turned vampires to kill their loved ones. In fact this is the most common reaction. So we kept them separated from you for their own safety.”
In case I hurt ‘em.
Because I’m a.. vampire now.
Since he is different to his group now. Not exactly one of them. It is a painful realization that is like an emotional weight wedged between them. He finally has family, but now they are standing on two opposing clifftops with a chasm between them.
“Which is a moot point as you chose mate bonding instead, but no one knew that at the time.” Malifus points out, which all but confirms that he knows what went on at the bottom of the cliff.
“Can I see ‘em?” Daryl asks quietly, wanting Rick and Carol more than anyone at the moment. Just to have them look at him and see if their stares have changed.
“Not yet. You have only drank from your mate. You need food. Come.” Malifus leads him onward without releasing his wrist, as if expecting Daryl to run. The dour hunter follows after him though, biting back a pout.
“Can I… stop it? Not change?” Daryl asks with some minor hope. Whatever had happened to him fixed the wound in his chest. It saved him from being run through by that thick branch after falling. He almost feels alright now, save for the weariness.
“You can only die again.” Malifus says with certainty. “Your heart stopped.”
My heart stopped…
Daryl lays his free hand over his chest as if doing the pledge of allegiance, waiting a moment. He keeps waiting and waiting until he finally accepts the lack of heartbeat, eyes turning down. He might remember dying, but actually feeling it is the strangest part. I don’ feel cold…
Malifus leads him to a small cabin. It is mostly bare, reminding Daryl of a hunter’s retreat. Just a slab of wood to make a single room where you could drink the night away between days of hunting. There is just one cot, a tiny pellet stove, a bench, lockbox, wooden chest, and two chairs for furniture.
Pushing aside his recent death, Daryl thinks of the reason he is bare naked right now. He pauses to pull the boxers on, finding it a little awkward how Malifus got his sizes close enough to be comfortable. There is too much confusion though so he skips that question, thinking of the only one outside his death to matter. “Can I get out of the blood bonding thing?”
“Get out of?” Malifus repeats and Daryl thinks he might just be the first person to twist a hint of surprise out of the guy. “Do you understand what you are asking?”
“Look, I only jumped on him ‘cause he was righ’ there. Ain’t no reason to saddle someone with a guy like me.” Daryl informs him curtly. It is awkward as hell to voice out loud but he needs to end it and knows nobody else to ask about this vampiric crap. He might have accidentally taken Taylon’s virginity, but his has been lost too, so he will call it an accidental draw.
“You’re quite incorrect. Grabbing what’s close at hand is not what happens. You take what’s yours only if it is nearby.” Malifus clarifies. “Vampires operate on instinct more than humans. You cannot make a blood bond with any but your soul mate.”
Daryl swallows thickly at the awkward news. Sure, he might have side eyed Taylon a bit when they were alone as attractive but he is still only a hair’s breadth away from being a stranger. Soul mates are not a real thing, or he had not believed in them before. “So I can’t stop it?”
“I did not say that.” Malifus’ words turn on a cryptic dime, almost bringing on a glare from the hunter. “You drank each other's blood, but did you drink out of the sight of one another’s turning point?”
“Turning point?”
“Where you were first bitten, when you became one of us.”
Taylon had only bitten his arm, from what he murkily recalls. Minorly embarrassed, he thinks of the bite marks covering Taylon - his back, his arm, his shoulders, and the low part of his neck. Two puncture wounds, old and faded, were on his neck and Daryl does not recall seeing them torn when he stared at Taylon at the end so he says, “Uh, no?”
“Then you will both struggle until you make a decision. You must drink from one another there before it is sealed.”
“And if I refuse?” Daryl asks what is on his mind, finding it harder to keep his mouth shut from the awkwardness of the conversation. Nobody else will have answers about this weird ritualistic crap.
“To refuse a blood bond is to refuse the call of your soul. You may dislike it, but instinct is telling you where to go.” Malifus explains, “If you choose to refuse you will have to rip out Taylon’s fangs and all your swapped blood will drain from him. It is excruciating and breaks the bond completely. There is no return.” With the first real hard bit of terseness he has seen from Malifus, the older vampire adds, “I would be especially careful with him. The dream of you has been enough to sustain him for decades.”
“What?” Daryl questions in bewilderment. Dream of me?
Malifus chooses his words with seeming care but they reveal nothing to Daryl. “I think when we are done here, you should ask Taylon what such a bond would mean to him.”
Hell, he knows he left the guy crying and naked on the sight of his death and their seemingly vicious fucking. He is almost positive that Taylon will be glad to see the back of him.
“Am I one of you now?” Daryl wonders where he stands. He is one of Rick’s people still, right? This will not change that, he thinks. Yet he also, well, he wonders if he sort of fits with the vampires now too. He could end up with both, or neither group, and that awareness sets him in a mental limbo.
“If you want to be.” Malifus then gestures to the canvas cot. “There will be some discomfort during the final segment of the transformation, so I would lay down.”
“I’m fine.”
“I was being polite by making it sound like a suggestion.” Malifus corrects a little more sternly. “This isn’t a moment for alpha posturing.”
Daryl swallows a biting response, but he sits on the cot all the same. Malifus hands him the flask and Daryl stares before unscrewing the top and bringing it to his nose. The familiar savory, delicious scent he could not place hits and he realizes it was Taylon’s blood that had enticed him so much earlier. He had never thought vampires could drink each other’s blood.
“Really?” Daryl cannot help but ask with a glance at Malifus.
“That, or death.”
Although he likes the smell trickling up from the flask now, Daryl is aware of what it is. Blood. Probably from one of the dead Terminus bastards. Hell, they were willing to kill us. It sort of feels sick though, drinking someone that had wanted to eat him when he thought they were so deranged for it. Yet the lingering aroma is alluring and whoever’s blood it was, they are dead now anyway.
The simple fact is, too, that Daryl does not want to die. He knows how horrific that feels and even if he made peace with it in the moment, if given a chance he would much rather fight and survive.
Daryl finally tips it into his mouth, surprised by how good it feels against his tongue. He leans his head back a little more, increasing the flow and slurping it down as it slakes his hunger at last. A sharp grunt sticks in his throat, the noise half choked in surprise from the unexpected uptick in a now building tension within him. Some of his body is fine but other parts suddenly burn sharply.
Daryl lies back on the cot as it starts to overwhelm him, lips parting. The empty flask falls from his hand, clattering to the wooden floor. His gums turn to ice as he swears his fangs push out further. Fuck, his jaw is on fire now. Daryl suddenly pants even though there is no need for air, because it makes the pain subside a little.
A hand falls over his and, like a woman giving birth, Daryl clutches onto it, squeezing through the shots of pain coming on in waves. It is sharp and temperate and cruel. For what feels like several agonizing hours but is probably only minutes, Malifus lets him squeeze as hard as he wants without pulling away or reacting. Neither speaks or moves a limb aside from their connected hands.
There is a sensation of sweat on his forehead when the agonizing aches and pains finally subside. They do not ebb back, but stop abruptly. Daryl lays still for a near minute, half expecting it to start up again.
When he accepts it is over and sits up, Malifus drops his hand. His body feels a little different, sort of like waking up in a hotel bed and knowing it is not home. He reaches down the new unbuttoned shirt he had yanked on, finding faint ridges where flatness had existed before. Just a hint of abs. Hell, I’m fitter? If nothing else, this is one part of the whole nightmare that is not so dark. Having his musculature strengthened and the scars from his father’s ignorance removed is not a small thing at all. Although still unsettled, he at least does not feel worn out anymore. Heck, he feels halfway decent.
“Better?”
Daryl nods and takes a second offered flask from him, looking at it again and thinking of its dreary contents.
“You must drink.”
“This sucks.” Daryl mutters about the blood drinking, not appreciating what it might mean in the future. The only upside is knowing vampires do not need to kill to get blood, though that makes him think of the little vampire feeding on him. He pushes the thought out of his mind.
“Give it time.”
“How many times have you done this?” Daryl mutters, sensing how this is far from his first rodeo.
“Many.” Malifus affirms. “With Adelaide. With Taylon.”
“What killed them?” Daryl asks if only to delay having to drink the blood. He pictures most turning experiences like his own. Maybe he asks if only to change the subject off himself for a second, but he is curious.
“Adelaide was willingly bitten, alive. Taylon was pushed off a building." There is steadiness in his voice as Malifus stares at Daryl. "He was bitten to save his life, like you.”
Ouch.
Pushed sounded odd though. He hardly seemed like the type to antagonize anyone so Daryl asks, “Who pushed him?”
“I think you ought to continue this conversation with him.” Malifus states as if it is not for him to say and Daryl supposes that makes sense. Your death has to be an awfully personal thing, especially if it is murder (which Daryl assumes)
“Thanks.” Daryl mutters petulantly, as he suspects Malifus knows that is the last thing he wants to do. Talking to Taylon after their vicious fucking that he only half remembers, knowing they have… some connection. Something that Taylon clearly believes in, but Daryl does not. No, he does not want that stress.
“One last question - most of us change our names when we turn. What will yours be?”
“Still Daryl.” He answers without more than a single beat to think. That is something he knows for certain, despite the confusion and heaviness hitting him. He is not going to change the base of who he is - dead or alive. He still feels mostly like himself, just out of sorts. Like a building that has been moved six inches over.
“Rest for a while and then I will walk you back to tonight’s camp.” Malifus tells him with his hand on the cabin doorknob before pausing and adding, “We look after our own.”
Am I one of ‘em though?
Notes:
It's Nikki's fantasy, so I can give Daryl some beefed up muscles. I also love the lore idea of their body being influenced by their preferences so the outside reflects the inside (and it can explain in part why vampires are overall so sexy) There is a ton of lore in this chapter & I wonder how it plays out to the reader, any insight??
What do you guys think of Daryl refusing Taylon after that vigorous time? Or of Taylon's little admission that he saved EVERYTHING for Daryl? He just wants a kiss...
Chapter 10: Their Stares
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
As Malifus leads him through the woods, Daryl’s tongue runs over his teeth, focusing on his two rather prominent canines that had not been so long nor sharp yesterday. They sit well enough in his mouth, but are just so strange to feel brushing his lip when he cracks his mouth open.
The forest sounds so goddamn loud for the middle of the night. Every crack of a leaf they step on hits his ears like gunfire. The cricket chirps actually hurt his ears with their constancy and loudness. Daryl stops walking, eyes closing as all he hears is noise from all sides. Then a hand falls gently onto his shoulder and when he opens his eyes Malifus is there.
“Your senses?” He asks, waiting until Daryl nods. “It will calm. You’ll learn to turn it on and off.” He stands still with Daryl until it sort of levels off, though everything is still louder than he is used to. Then Daryl nods and they carry on.
He suddenly wonders if Taylon is still sitting at the bottom of the cliff in tears. A rather tragic picture indeed. Hell, why do I need this shit? He just died, for fuck’s sake! There is already way too much on his plate without adding…
Recalling his thrusting hips and how Taylon’s blood tastes like every good dish rolled into one stirs some emotions in him. It had been such a turn on to watch Taylon underneath him. He had a vampire yielding to him like they were both in heat. Even if so much of the memory is hazy, he knows it was not unpleasant. Just a little feral.
‘I.. I kept my first kiss safe for you, too.’
What did that even mean? He really spent years not even dating? Being around - and seemingly friends - with Bijou, who is hardly demure, for what must be years and still avoiding sex sounds impossible. Worse, it drives the guilt hard into his heart. Saving himself for years and he ends up with Daryl fucking Dixon…
That romance novel and his own sappy children’s book comes to mind, too. He can tell Taylon venerated the dream of his romance - of having a partner, a soul mate, whatever the fuck it is.. That must be dead now that the reality is so disappointing.
By now, Taylon must surely have realized what a let-down Daryl would be as a partner.
As they walk, Daryl wishes he could see his people without possibly running into Taylon. He needs time to think. Time to process this. Time to just… deal with the fact his heart is motionless in his chest, before he thinks about what to do with it. Raising a hand and holding it there, he confirms that eerie stillness again. No heart, no lungs unless he tries to breathe on purpose.
The fact that he cannot tell what temperature it is outside anymore gnaws on him, too.
The feeling of moonlight being more than enough to see in. Like everything is brighter all of a sudden.
Also he swears he is making less noise in the woods, like his steps are lighter. More fleet footed. His boots are not heavy at all.
Everything is a tiny bit different.
Daryl can see far ahead of them is a large building. As they approach Malifus tells him not to eat the human food in the warehouse. It is a depressing reminder that there will be so many little pleasures lost to him. He thinks of talking with Taylon about what venison tastes like, depressed at the thought of never tasting it again.
“Can I still smoke?” Daryl abruptly asks as soon as the thought hits.
“Yes.” Malifus affirms, immediately putting a tiny bit of distress to rest. At least not every damn thing he likes will be gone. “Wait here. We’ll bring one human out to make sure you’re not still in a state.” He pauses and lays a hand on Daryl’s shoulder, leaving him with one final reminder. “It is just a different state of being - one you need not be alone for.”
Daryl just grunts, saying nothing and prompting the taller man to leave him and head into the warehouse. For a moment he is alone in the overly loud woods.
Then Malifus appears with Rick at his side, gaze settling right onto him. He watches the sheriff balk for a split second, wondering how he looks. Rick’s brows knit together in worry. New clothes aside, he knows his skin is ghostly now, but he wonders if his fangs stick out, curling his lips a little just in case they do. Does he have bags under his eyes? How pale is his face? He was not exactly rosy cheeked on a good day, but how does he look now?
Then a noise pounds in his ear and he drops his stare off his friend’s eyes. Instead, Daryl eyes up Rick’s throat, watching one vein. He swears he can see it pop and knows the soft pounding sound in his ears is Rick’s blood pumping, taking a step back suddenly as the fear of hurting his brother hits. Staring at Rick, he can hear his heartbeat picking up. He knows he just made Rick nervous with whatever expression had passed over his face. His blood is moving faster through him now. Malifus lays a hand on Rick’s shoulder, observing Daryl too. Daryl turns his stare downward as the pressure of their combined attention starts to build along with the noise.
“I’m glad you’re alright.” Rick tells him without moving forward. The distance between them is palpable.
“Yeah.” Daryl mutters, not exactly feeling alright. He keeps his feet firmly planted, focusing on staying put.
Malifus approaches him and leans in, “Any struggle?”
“I hear.. his heartbeat.” Daryl whispers to him lowly, worried it means he is priming to launch himself at Rick like some beast. His boots stick in the dirt firmly.
“That’s not abnormal. Focus on the human’s voice or face instead.” Malifus quietly assures and encourages without any harshness.
The human.
Since he is not one anymore. The further reminder settles whatever he was going to say into a thick weight in his throat.
The door to the building’s front opens and Carol steps out. She does not hesitate to step over and throw her arms around him in a hug.
“What kind of trouble are you getting into?” Carol chides him while squeezing him without holding back. She releases him and Daryl actually exhales because it feels good to be treated a little more normally. She cups his chin and stares at his face more closely, making him wonder how different he looks. “You’re cooler.”
Malifus gives him a nod and very quietly remarks that he will be inside if Daryl needs him. He says it so low that Daryl doubts Rick and Carol heard it.
“Don’ worry.” Daryl assures Carol it is fine as Rick joins him, so she drops her hand. Neither seems to mind being close to him now.
“Malifus insisted I leave you.” Rick eyes him curiously. “You were.. ripping into the short blond one.” Daryl just grumbles in his throat.
Then he realizes they are staring like he…
“I didn’ kill him!” Daryl quickly puts down that assumption. He knows what actually went on is more embarrassing but he is definitely not that kind of killer. “Jesu-” He begins to say only to cut himself off. In movies, religious references tend to be painful for vampires but he notices nothing unusual. “Jesus.” He finished out half beneath his breath, feeling no different and glad for that.
“Look it’s.. whatever it is.” Daryl shrugs unhappily at the new reality that he does not want to focus on. He still feels like he is mentally catching up to what happened. “Let’s call it a night. I’m tired.”
Both of them are quick to agree and turn back inside. He does not want to say that it takes a lot out of you to die, but the truth is that their reactions are almost as tough as the physical changes.
At least Carol hugged him though.
Once they head inside, he spots Glenn and Maggie eyeing him curiously like some stranger. He knows Rick and Carol are trying especially hard, but they should not have to. He was one of them yesterday. Why does one fall off a cliff change that?
Daryl glances up at the ceiling, catching sight of a couple of bats up there. He wonders if one is Taylon, but cannot see their features well. One looks small though. How do I do that? He wonders, but continues to just stand there on two legs. Giving up for now, Daryl heads outside to sit and think for a while.
Being away from both groups actually feels easier. No eyes. No attention. Though, it is strangely discomforting to be alone with his new self. His dead self.
Not like life ever did me any favors. Daryl thinks, knowing his pre-apocalypse existence was borderline miserable. Life had improved with walkers around, because it brought on his new family. He had finally scratched out a life beyond being a Dixon.
Of all the stupid ways to die… in the woods, runnin’ off a cliff, where I shoulda known better…
Shit in the woods - my crossbow.
He knows it will be light in a couple of hours, so he rises from his dreary thoughts and returns inside to finds Malifus. “Lost m’ bow. Gotta go back ‘n’ find it.” He is not sure why he is telling him, though he figures after his reaction to Daryl trying to wander alone that there is a reason - and the one thing Daryl refuses to do is hurt one of his own people by accident. So he bites the bullet, and tells Malifus he is going to head out just in case there is anything he ought to know about leaving while ‘freshly turned’ or whatever they are calling it.
“It is on that table.” Malifus answers simply, cutting cleanly through Daryl’s thoughts. “I believe that Taylon brought it back for you. And pieces of your clothes.” Malifus gestures over to a table where Daryl is relieved to spot his crossbow, undamaged despite the fall. The fucking thing is tougher than he is. Malifus lifts a brow, “Have you two spoken yet?”
Daryl only grunts, loathing that he asked.
He leaves in silence, approaching the table where he finds the wings of his tattered vest, grabbing them and shoving them into a pocket. His crossbow is shrugged onto his shoulder, where it belongs. Its weight is more than halved, feeling like nothing on him.
Although the disappointment is clear in Malifus’ stare, all he says is, “Let’s fetch you a cloak. Daylight does not bring death, but feels awful.” He waves Daryl over to him and one of their bags, having a spare cloak. To his surprise, the vampiric leader actually swings the fabric around his back and pins the two sides together on him. “The longer you drag it out, the worse it will be.” Malifus quietly advises.
The thought of having a conversation with Taylon after their awkward shared first sexual experience makes him queasy. The man had died a virgin - what more proof did Daryl think he needed to know he is meant to be alone?
Soul mate… still feels like a mistake.
Fuck, navigating what’s going on inside himself now is challenge enough without all this. Except, to stop it he will have to put Taylon through an agonizing pain. Malifus said ripping fangs out. It would be easier knowing he would do it to himself, but doing that to someone else sounds downright cruel. Someone that does not want it done… that will be worse.
Why’s he even wan’ me? Daryl’s inner voice is petulant as he drags himself back outside, sitting down against the wall and taking out his cigarettes. Even if he does not need to breathe he still can, so he gets his cigarette lit and inhales. It does not quite hit the same - sort of like how that very first cigarette is the strongest, and it all goes downhill. Still mildly pleasing, but not the same.
Irked, Daryl sparks his lighter and stares at the flame. He puts the tip of his index finger over it, watching the flame lick his skin and not feeling the warmth. Not seeing it burn. It barely even hurts. Only when his nail sparks and lights does he pull it away, blowing his finger out and flexing it while staring. So fuckin’ weird…
The slightest sounds pierce his awareness, so when someone steps round the building he is already looking in that direction. His stress levels skyrocket as a familiar figure in a new casual gray suit peers back at him. The scarf around his neck is gone - likely ripped off during their vicious sex, Daryl thinks - but it has been replaced with a thin, ribbon-like black tie. “Did you want to speak with me?” Taylon asks especially quietly, prompting Daryl to think that Malifus or someone must have told him that to nudge them together.
Not knowing what else to say, Daryl mumbles, “Shit.”
Taylon comes no closer, limbs tightening a little. His arms wrap around his middle, chin dipping down as he seems to realize they were set up. “Oh.” His voice is thick with disappointment.
Frowning, Daryl states with what he hopes is a lack of irritation, “I jus’ don’ know ya.”
“I’m sorry it’s all happening at once.” Taylon apologizes for the overwhelming weight of everything coming at him altogether. At least someone recognizes that it is all too much.
“Hell, I always been alone.” Daryl mutters, “Died a virgin.” Irksome to say, worse to hear aloud but he senses a need to justify his keeping Taylon at arms’ length.
“So did I.” Taylon points out still just as quietly, inadvertently reminding Daryl that even his lips are untouched too. That hits Daryl with guilt as he recalls the feeling of pinning Taylon down. He might not remember much of the experience with any clarity, but he knows who was in control of it.
“Why’d ya want it then?” Daryl cannot help but ask from his unhappy seat on the ground. Surely there had been a point when Taylon could have stopped him? Not that he recalls, but he knows he only came to his consciousness part-way through.
“Because.. you’re the person just for me.” It sounds downright romantic when he says it, except for the obvious sorrow in his voice.
“Ain’t nothin’ special.”
“You are to me.”
Daryl grunts for a second before his lips form a word, “Why?”
“Because you are mine - um, could be mine, I’m - I’m sorry.” Taylon starts out softly yet strongly before stumbling quickly, almost sounding afraid to let his assumptions anger Daryl when the hunter is clearly fighting them. “That makes you more precious than anyone.”
“I shouldn’ be with anyone.” Daryl hopes that is reason enough but it only makes Taylon’s stare wilt.
Taylon hangs his head and diverts his stare away. “I’ll respect your decision.”
“Even if it means rippin’ yer fangs out?” Daryl asks, though he openly frowns a second later as the mere question causes Taylon to wince and a single red tear races down his cheek. He turns on a dime and speed walks back around the corner, out of sight.
Daryl sits there for a long while, trying to pretend he had not made a grown man cry just after that same man called him precious, and his. Basically begging Daryl with his eyes to accept him, and he just does not understand it.
I ain’t s’pposed to be with nobody.
Notes:
Damn Daryl, you try so hard to fight against your own urges…
Chapter 11: Don't Know What Ya Got 'Til It's Gone
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When they return to the road the next day, Daryl wonders if he is meant to behave like the rest of the vampires. He finds he does not care though, falling into the midst of the human group. Screw letting things change any more than they absolutely have to.
Carol walks beside him, which does make him feel slightly better. Most others are giving him space which usually would be fine, but it just highlights his differences.
Taylon in his bat-form disappears into Bijou’s backpack rather than going for his shirt pocket, and he does catch the Frenchwoman throwing a downright angry stare his way. He is not surprised by her loyalty, just irritated. Always knew Bijou’s trouble.
He wishes the rest of them could understand that it has to be a fluke, because he is not good at that sort of stuff. Never been into romance. Not meant for it. Plus, he had hidden his sexuality all his life. He hardly needs it dragged out in front of everyone now that he is dead.
As they walk he pulls back the long sleeve of the shirt Malifus had given him, cringing as it immediately feels like a flame licking at him. The feeling he missed from the lighter just hours ago is present now - just for sunlight. So Daryl yanks his sleeve back down, frowning as the discomfort fades. He can feel Carol’s eyes on him when he does it, but he says nothing and she does not ask.
He glances around a little later, realizing the vampires are one less once again. Daryl thinks perhaps he just missed someone disappearing into a bag or pocket but as the day wears on, he realizes they continue to be one less. He starts to wonder why until spotting Ferdinand walking very slowly at the back with his head down and red tear tracks down his face, with Malifus walking and talking beside him. They bring up the rear, so Daryl only notices when he turns around.
Five.
The werewolves killed Vindar.
He had been so caught up in his own death that he had not noticed. Shit.. He realizes that is now two in a short period. Surely with their long lives that is unusual. He died keepin’ us safe - well, not me, fuck…
The whole situation is screwed, and all Daryl can think is he hopes he never sees a werewolf again.
Outside of when he is requested, Taylon does not appear. He is as downtrodden as the rest of the vampires, whose state of mourning seems to be continuing now for Vindar, yet Daryl knows he is a big reason for Taylon’s drawn, glossy eyes and the fact he seems to be hiding in Bijou’s bag all day long.
They find an old theater to hole up in after trekking all day. The humans drag in blankets, mats for padding staged falls, and a few soft set pieces and furniture. Anything worth sleeping on is brought onto the stage. When Daryl brings Carl over a blanket as he is building Judith a new crib, he finds the boy nearly jumps from his presence.
Carl was fine with me before…
He cannot help but feel his heart contracting from the knowledge that he makes the kid uncomfortable all of a sudden. Daryl knows he is not a smiling person, so it is not visible fangs. It has to be how pale he is.
As he walks away Abraham eyes him like he is a walker just waiting to turn, and Eugene stares like he is a subject worth studying. Their looks are insults on top of the injury Carl just gave him, though Daryl reminds himself he is just a kid and if the tables were turned Daryl would definitely be wondering.
He still feels (mostly) like himself.
Still sounds like himself.
Still thinks like he always has.
Daryl knows he is still the same man, just different. A little altered, but underneath the same. Undead, but not far gone.
Then as he moves to the fringe of the theater, heading up the aisle, he hears Bijou cry out behind him. Daryl glances back, watching Taylon approach a metal garbage can that someone had lit a fire full of playbooks in on stage, to add some warmth. The further north they go, the cooler it gets.
Taylon shakes his head up on the stage, saying something to Bijou, who is quite animated. He then flings something in his hand and Daryl sees a slew of pages sail into the fire before the pouting, shorter vampire turns and stomps off. Bijou turns back to the flames and thrusts her hand in, yanking a notebook out and slapping it against her body until the flames die down. Frowning deeply, Bijou hugs it against her chest. Even from afar, he recognizes the little notebook that Taylon carried and wrote in just about every day. He had always figured it was a journal - if you live a long time with a human body, and a human memory, it makes sense to write down details that might fade over time.
Why do I know him throwin’ that out is my fault?
When he passes Ferdinand, Daryl gets a glare that cuts into his chest. He knows the man is still mourning so he tries not to take it to heart. Hell, Ferdinand has looked like he oscillated solely between miserable and angry all day. Most vampires have changed the way they look at Daryl since turning, but Ferdinand is caught up in his own emotions and Daryl hardly blames him.
Daryl thinks of the pair of them holding hands while walking at the back and playfully chastising each other just to ruffle the other’s feathers. Openly and wholly loving, and now gone.
Who would actually want to put themself in such a position? Once again he wonders why Taylon acts like he wants Daryl. The idea of romance is definitely better ‘n’ the real thing.
Malifus checks in with him but Daryl waves him away, not wanting to talk. He does not need to be told twice, at least.
He roams around the back of the old playhouse, since most of the others are in the front. He is tired of their stares. He spots some low hanging rafters backstage, then to his discontent he sees the tiniest bat of the group and swears the creature’s ruddy little shoulders shake. Can bats cry? Laden with guilt, Daryl changes direction before the little thing sees him.
Being alone feels right, so Daryl finds a tiny dressing room and lays down on a hammock in there, probably for some ego inflated starlet with dreams of Hollywood that never made it out of their small town. He grabs a blanket out of habit, only to realize the temperature will not change, yet he covers himself all the same. It feels familiar and right.
I can still fall asleep an’ wake up like normal.
When Daryl wakes up again his first thought was how peculiarly neutral he feels. Neither hot nor cold. Then he recalls why, slumping back down.
Fucking died…
The thought of Taylon staring with wide, begging lavender eyes is the second thought for his waking mind. He can barely fight back the urge to roll over and pretend this is not his life. So Daryl tells himself he must force the issue today. I don’ wanna hurt him, but I can’t do it. Cruel t’ drag it on.
He’ll be better off.
Still, he recalls Bijou’s agonizing scream after Verity’s death, and how she had brought that pain on, rather than suffer through the night with only her emotions. Plus Malifus’ remark of Daryl’s blood draining out of Taylon sounds no more comfortable. The whole experience will probably pain him horribly.
‘That makes you more precious than anyone.’
He will have to find the words to explain to Taylon that he is wrong, but it riles his insides up like he is a butter churner. There is such a gentle but clear desire in Taylon, though Daryl keeps thinking it is a need for romance. Not a need for him.
If Taylon does not know him, then he cannot love him; What more is there to say?
When he dares to show his face, Bijou is the first to settle her vivacious attention on him. She swoops forward as soon as Daryl enters the backstage area, as if she had been laying in wait. “You fucking swine!” Bijou snaps at him worse than a cobra with its tail being stepped on by a giant. She is unrelentingly brutal in flinging her anger at him, snarling with her words and eyes alike.
As she stomps off like a storm wave receding as quickly as it had crashed to shore, Malifus approaches him and sighs. “Do not let her anger affect you.” Then he eyes him with more care and declares, “We should have you practice your bat form. Follow me.”
“Yeah, they’re close.” Daryl mutters, understanding it a little. He knows Bijou is just acting out like an irate kid whose best friend just got dumped. Stupidly immature. Still he decides that trying to turn into a bat might be a rare silver lining to all this. Being able to fly must be the one high point - could make hunting a hell of a lot more interesting, that is for sure.
“Exactly. She’ll miss him.” Malifus’ words are crisp and about as nonchalant as the guy seems able to be, but make Daryl mentally stumble.
Miss him? “What d’ya mean?”
After a second of yielding a more critical stare to Daryl, Malifus seems to realize he is missing a piece of information. “Taylon requested a sabbatical. He said you made your choice.”
They had not made it official - not ripped fangs - but Daryl knows he has maintained the same stance all this time; That it cannot be true and he is meant to be alone. Romance never came for him and never would, that was Daryl’s belief. Yet, he never thought Taylon would leave. To actually just disappear like that is more than jarring.
“Gone fer good?” Daryl asks stiffly, nipping his lower lip between his teeth.
“No, maybe just a few months or a couple of years.” Malifus states it factually, not pushing on Daryl which surprises him. He expects blame, but it does not sound like Malifus is actually angry. He does not sound bothered at all.
Potentially years? That slows Daryl up, envisioning not running into the meek little vampire again. All because he scared him away. It sounds like no time at all the way Malifus says it, but Daryl still has a human’s view on time, and it sounds like ages.
Taylon is gone.
He leads Daryl along to a smaller open space. Maybe used for rehearsals or practice backstage. All that matters, he guesses, is that it is open enough for him to… be a bat?
These days, life is so weird. Life or whatever the hell ya call this.
“Now, I want you to close your eyes. You will not have to once you master it, but it will be helpful in tuning out excess stimuli as you learn.” Daryl obeys Malifus and closes his eyes all while wondering what the hell had prompted Taylon to decide to take off. Well, besides him constantly making the guy cry by refusing him. Crap… It makes it harder to focus on Malifus’ words,telling him to envision things a certain way and feel his body but all that goes in one ear and out the other.
Yet still, Daryl senses the feeling Malifus is telling him to chase and he closes his eyes. That animalistic yearning is easy to sense and move towards. Daryl suddenly tightens up and he gets shorter. He is staring at Malifus’ waist and the guy is wide as a fucking house. Hell!
His vision swims and Daryl swears he is falling to the ground. His arms out in front of him flap fruitlessly, but they are not his arms. Well, they go up when he moves them up and down when he flails downward, but they are leathery with a long shining membrane. A dark bat’s wing.
Just when he nears the ground, fear of falling raging through him like a sensory overload, Daryl snaps his eyes closed. Then Daryl thinks of his humanity and with a jerk everything becomes rather small again - although no, as his vision shakes he realizes it is not small but normal sized. Two hands thrust forward to grip his arms. Bent knees wobble, barely able to keep himself upright.
Yeah, he has arms again. Those bulging biceps in the foreground of his vision are definitely his. Fuck’s sake. Daryl takes a sharp, shallow series of breaths while Malifus keeps a firm grip on his biceps. He is not sure if he needs to be steadied, but if so then Malifus is keeping him upright. “Very good.”
So I’ll be able to fly...
“Felt like hell.” Daryl admits it hardly was good from his end. The physical transformation barely bothers him. It is the way everything shifts in his perspective that is the problem. The whole world feels like it turns on its head.
“It’s jarring to shift your perspective without expecting it. You’ll transition more easily soon.” Malifus keeps his arms forward, as if ready to catch Daryl should he spiral out of control again. “Try sitting on the ground and doing it again.”
“Stupid.” Daryl grumbles while still bending over and getting down onto the ground. He sits down with his knees bent in front of Malifus, glancing around. The area is empty and although he knows it is dark out, he sees in the room just fine.
Daryl closes his eyes and focuses on that feral feeling on the edge of his awareness. It is easy to tap into it and a second later his eyes open. Everything looks sharper yet rounded at the edges of his vision. Everything is larger and looks humongous from his vantage point only inches off the ground.
Well at least he does not have to worry about his balance so much. At the worst, he can only fall so far. A tiny distance, it looks like. Hell, he can see Malifus’ black boots and knows he is not taller than his ankles. He must be a smaller sized bat, he realizes. Kinda Taylon sized…
His arms are heavier in a way now, though he stretches them and realizes it is just awkwardly bulkier. When Daryl looks at it, his arms are more like dark ruddy brown bones between black, flappy membranes. Now that he is able to not worry about balance or flight he stretches out, looking down at his legs.
My feet are tiny and clawed.
His toes are barely able to latch onto the floor, though they are a little long for the size of his teeny feet. Still so small though. Hairy as hell and nearly the same color as his furry, boney wing joints. As Daryl stares down at his body he spots fur the same coloring albeit a bit lighter and brighter. Ruddy without losing that heavy brown quality.
Daryl jumps off the floor while flapping his wings, doing a tiny spiral before falling back down to the ground and landing with a small stumble. He did not fall though. Better. Daryl tries again and repeats the movement without the stumble.
Above him a crane arm seems to swing, casting a shadow, though as Daryl looks up he realizes it is Malifus bending down. “Try to land on my arm.” He holds the appendage steady, causing Daryl to flap all the harder to reach that height. Then he lands and tries to tighten his toes, only to tip forward and fall ass over head.
Well he did manage to latch onto the fabric of Malifus’ sleeve, so he hangs off the bottom of his sleeve instead of sitting upright. Although he never intended to end up this way, Daryl actually finds it sort of peaceful from this angle. Instead of the blood rushing to his head, it is more like he slips into a bed molded to his body.
“Good.” Malifus lifts his other arm, though to Daryl it is like the staircases moving in the Harry Potter movies. “Try to go from there, to this arm, Daryl.”
I’m upside down so I gotta flip… Daryl takes a tiny breath before releasing his toes and throwing his weight while letting his wings flap. The world does spin a bit, though not as terribly as before. He thinks expecting it helped. Once he gets upright, Daryl keeps flapping and after a moment it reminds him of treading water.
“Steadier strokes, not sharp flaps.” Malifus’ slightly loud voice tells him and Daryl tries to listen.
Daryl’s arms - wings, whatever, he is still adjusting to these new terms - create smoother flaps that stretch his limbs all the way out. He puts less effort into keeping himself upright this way. Then he flies up and lets himself float down onto Malifus’ offered up second arm. Although his balance is unsettled, he does not tip. After a second he sits comfortably and relaxes.
Just to make sure he has it, Daryl pushes his little feet into Malifus’ arm to get a bit of a springboard. He makes sure not to flail his wings, flapping them instead. Daryl flies around the taller vampire’s dark head before coming down a little lower and thinking of his human side. His proper arms and legs flitter through his mind and he envisions how it feels compared to this.
Then he is bent forward, slightly stumbling but at least his feet are on the ground. Proper feet in their boots, not little spindly bat toes. Full clothed and no wings.
“Very good.” Malifus’ approval hits as Daryl is back to his usual self. “You’re an eastern red bat.” Malifus tells him, sparking a memory of those sorts of bats when he was alive. They are native to Georgia so he ran into them a time or two. Red little buggers that could sneak through small holes in boards.
He takes in a breath and feels less peculiar about the whole thing. The actual transformation had been painless and without discomfort, but it surprised him how intense the shift in viewpoint was. All the same, he had flown even if it was only through a few feet of distance. To him, it had been a half mile.
Still, being able to fly is less impressive knowing Taylon is gone.
Notes:
Poor Vindar. Poor Ferdinand.
Also ooofff! Little awkward tension & not much conversation. Seems like Daryl is struggling in more ways than one.
We finally get some... Bat Daryl!!
AND TAYLON PEACED OUT OF THERE!!!
Chapter 12: A Composition Of Exaltation
Summary:
If you’re super tender hearted, grab a tissue. I needed one when I wrote it. Then again I am a squishy bastard!
Chapter Text
He scared Taylon away.
After leaving Malifus, Daryl is sitting off alone backstage, letting his thoughts ricochet around in his head. He worries where the little vampire has gone to. The werewolves are not exactly far off. Hell, Vindar was strong as shit and they finished him off. Surely he was twice the size of Taylon, and had looked like a right tough bastard. Taylon hardly seems like a risk taker. If anything, he looks as close to a marshmallow as a vampire can get.
Except, Daryl has hurt him. Rebuffed him at every turn. Daryl just never found a reason to believe in fate. As nice and admittedly cute as Taylon is, that does not mean they are meant to be, or anything extreme.
But the fact he might be in danger sticks in Daryl’s mind.
Bijou approaches and flings something at him. A small book. It springs open, flying through the air with the cover flaps down, hitting his chest and falling into his lap. Taylon’s notebook. He only knows it because it came out almost every day to be jotted into.
Even when it hits him, Daryl expects the pain to be worse since he knows he drove Taylon away. Instead, it is like a large, tanky, but simply irritating mosquito. He looks up at her with a scowl from his seat on the ground, though he knows precisely why she is angry. If anyone had driven Carol off, he would be all snarls too.
“Fucking monster, after all that time!” Bijou snaps at him like he is the cruelest beast in the world, making him raise a brow. He has seen her murder multiple people, yet here she is snapping at him like Daryl is a serial killer.
“Whatcha want, Creme Brulee?” Daryl snaps at her instead, already feeling like he has precious little patience for Bijou on a good day, and this is not a good day.
“Tu comptes beaucoup pour lui.” Bijou yowls out a slew of French, sounding like a petulant cat. Her foot stomps a couple of times, reminding him of a child whose anger is seeping out, uncertain how to process it all. “Ramène-le, enfoiré!” She thrusts a finger into his chest and prods him angrily while hammering on in words he does not understand, but he hears the rapidity and anger in them. There is no mistaking Bijou’s casting blame.
When she walks off, still caterwauling in a mix of languages, Daryl simply sighs and tries to pretend it did not happen as the wave of embarrassment hits while Tara, Maggie, and Eugene look on. Everyone is staring and he suspects, everyone knows. Word probably got around.
Dead and gay.
Hell, he never even got to make the choice to come out. Daryl had every intention of dying with that secret. Although as he thinks about it, he supposes he did. He did die without anyone knowing. Now it is different.
At first he picks up the notebook intending to put it away, hefting himself unhappily to his feet, and carrying it backstage to find somewhere to stick it. It is good to get away from the stares. Maybe he should give it to Malifus, though he supposes Bijou could have done that. If he ain’t comin’ back.. Daryl fiddles with it in his hand, chest going leaden again.
Bijou’s angry he’s gone.
It definitely feels like a violation of privacy to have it in his hand. A tempting one too. Taylon wrote in this thing every day they were on the road, so he suspects it has all his thoughts and feelings written down. Did he write ‘bout me? Daryl frowns, wondering if he had even been on Taylon’s radar before they knew… what they supposedly are to each other.
He did pick me to drink.
He always looked to me.
When they were liasoning early on, Daryl knew Taylon had taken him seriously - human or not. Even when it was clear Rick was their leader, Taylon had paid him more attention than most. It makes Daryl think of the way he stared all doe eyed and soft spoken while trying to get a drink from him.
Am I in here? Daryl sets the notebook down backstage near some of the ropes and pulleys operated by stagehands once upon a time. He needs the notebook away from him because it is so damn tempting to look, but he does not want to. He is more respectful than that, he tells himself. Except, he’s gone.
‘Cause I drove ‘im away.
Daryl swears he would not normally dare while turning back around and snatching up the notebook with a deeply etched frown. He half steps behind the stage curtain, trying to hide himself away while doing something that feels inescapably wrong.
The first page is not a page. There is writing on the inside of the front cover on the upper right hand corner that Daryl eyes first. A neat little column of information, tidily written in especially flowing cursive.
~ Taylon ~
*Rupert Claybrook*
Forever 27
Chicago & Proud
Burn this after second death :)
Like he suspected, a human name and a vampiric one. Yet there are too many more pressing questions, so Daryl turns his attention to the pages that are surprisingly stuffed. Every line of the notebook paper has not one but two or in rare cases even three actual lines of tiny, neat writing filling it. In the margins are a day and month, with years at the top of the pages.
Never in his life has Daryl seen a page so stuffed before.
Every line begins with a date, then a name. He starts flipping through with rocks pooling steadily into his gut like a quarry landslide happening inside him. It is not a diary or a journal…
This is something else and it immediately makes Daryl uncomfortable, even before he fully realizes what he is reading.
May 6: Marcus would be authoritative, brave, & handsome. He would be a hard worker & I will kiss his heavy brow when he tires.
Oct 23: Javier will be tall, so I’ll have to tip my head back. That will make it nicer when he kisses me, even if I can’t reach him. Blue eyes.
Daryl flips a page, his core muscles tensing.
Dec 10: Deacon shall be sassy, but will know how to make me laugh. He’ll like forehead kisses. Sharp nose.
Feb 27: Brendan will have a short temper. Curly hair. A big smile that I’ll be able to bring out, only me, because of my love.
A few more pages are flipped through, with that sinking feeling growing. It is page after page of dated names and descriptions. Definitely not a diary recording daily events or moments in his life. Just dreams and dreams of… What his soul mate could be.
He is not sure what spurs him but he flips to the year he was born. Pages of tiny writing are passed by. Rows and rows of different names as it takes years. Then he hits his birth-year. Almost immediately near the top his heart stops. The first page of the year he was born, right near the top - there it is.
Jan 6: Daryl will be loyal and strong - of both heart and of body. Buff sort. He will never love anyone but me & I will fill his heart.
Daryl’s gut clenches like he has food poisoning. He freezes and has to reread the words over and over before they stick. On the day he was born, Taylon had dreamed of him. Written about who he would be - except it seems like a better version, since he hardly sees himself as strong hearted.
On the day he was born, Taylon had known.
Hell, his own daddy had been drinking at the bar when his mother headed to the hospital, cigarette in hand. According to the story from Merle, he was lucky they remembered to pick him up on the way out of the hospital. Even Merle had said baby-Daryl’s initial crying turned him off the kid for a few years. Nobody had been excited about him coming into existence.
Except according to this, Taylon had been thinking of him, miles away. Completely unaware, but dreaming of Daryl all the same. Happy to have him in the world. Excited, even.
Waiting eagerly, while nobody else in his life gave a fuck.
The heft of the prior pages reminds Daryl how long that wait had been, even before he was born. It floors him that Taylon had written a children’s book, when Daryl had been a child. Like a constant, desperate calling of Taylon’s soul, wrapped in a subconscious awareness.
Suddenly that feeling like this is all in error vanishes as Daryl thumbs the page awkwardly of the year he was born. The shock is undeniable. His name is right there in faded, aged pen, in the tiniest neat scrawl. Almost forty years ago, Taylon knew somehow.
Loyal… except he has been threatening to break away from Taylon ever since he learned of their connection.
Strong… hell, maybe his body, but the mere thought of publically being with another guy makes him balk. Daryl knows he had never overcome that in life.
Buff… enough to rip Taylon’s fangs out like he has been threatening, digging in that feeling of being a heel.
Never loved anyone before… well, that much is right.
‘I will fill his heart.’
From the first day Daryl took a breath, Taylon had just wanted to love him. Been desperate to give him affection, and be near him. He had spent so many years as a kid wishing someone would give a damn, and now he knows someone had. Far away and without a beating heart, but a full one all the same.
Meanwhile, Daryl has only upset him since learning they shared a bond. He had thought it was a terrible thing for Taylon to have fallen in love with the idea of him. To love someone without actually knowing them could not be love at all, that had been his stance.
Yet Daryl cannot deny how seeing his name written years ago feels like proof he is wrong. Proof that this is something more than either of them. From that very first day, he had someone out there wanting him, after going through life feeling utterly unwanted and unloveable. While he was always feeling alone, Taylon was spending every single day thinking of him, somehow. Like he could love Daryl from afar if he just tried hard enough. Logging dreams and turning his wishes into stories for others.
All while waiting… and waiting.
There are many pages and so many names. Decades before and after Daryl’s own page. He flips through to confirm his sinking suspicion that Taylon never skipped a year, a month, a week - not even a day.
Taylon does not want to pick out bits he likes nor does he already have one specific vision of who he wants. He just wants whatever Daryl is offering. An almost unconditional offer of love. Suddenly it does not look quite so childish or dreary.
He starts flipping pages again, keeping a finger on the page that has.. him. The last sentence aside - the first two fit well enough to startle him. When he sees an usual page that bears more than sentences on names, he pauses and squints down at the tiny, tight writing. It is more like a diary entry, spontaneously splashed between two dates in the mid-80s.
If he accepts me - for saying when is too forward since we have not met - I am genuinely afraid I might die a second time from being so happy. That would be much better than falling. I’ll fill the pages that remain with our names, side by side, or maybe just his. I bet it will be beautiful. Such a beautiful name because it will be his.
Christ, it has the energy of a teenage girl’s diary entry, except darker.
But what if he hates me? Dead hearts still break.
All I’ve ever wanted would burn away if he finds me wanting, and he probably will. I am far and beyond not the strongest or bravest or most handsome of vampires. I began as an errand runner and bellboy, and ended my breathing days no better. I am not stunningly gorgeous, like Bijou -
Here, there is a line in green pen, making an arrow with a comment in the margins in different, curlier handwriting:
Yes you are, mon ami! But thank you ;)
A second arrow drops down from the curly, feminine scribble back in the original handwriting:
Bijou, stop reading when this is clearly private!
Daryl would have snorted in amusement if the subject matter was not so close to his heart. His eyes return to the main paragraphs.
I am not stunningly gorgeous, like Bijou, or physically fit like an enforcer. I have no skill outside of song and that will fade, unlike a percipient. There is no talent in me. No great strength. I am so ordinary. Nothing special at all.
I would be easy to leave unloved. Maybe that is why I wait. Maybe I am meant to be loveless forever because there is not enough in me worth loving. I am weak. There could be nobody for someone like me.
But if there is and we could find each other, I will show him the one thing I do well. I have something - I have great love. I feel it building inside me every day.
I will envelope him in such affection that a single week will feel a lifetime. I will caress away his every fear. I will love him openly like I have only ever dreamed. I will make up for all my shortcomings with a GREAT LOVE.
Please find me. Hasten yourself to me, or to be born. Please. Get yourself into this universe because sometimes I am selfish and I want you near me. I want to see your face and know your name. To hold you and have you hold me. It feels like that will never happen. I will wait as long as it takes but please find me. Please, please, please find me!
Daryl flips back to the page with his name and stares after finishing the desperate, lonely diatribe. He never needed anyone - definitely nobody strong or overly talented, though he does not think Taylon is as weak as he believed himself to be on what… had to be a dark, lonely day.
But if Daryl did want anything he decides it would be emotion. Dixons never exactly gave any of that. Great love?
He stares at his name on the page in the entry on his birthday. His name is even spelled the right way. Not Darryl or Darell or anything else. Right day. Right month. Right year. Undeniable with how spot on it is.
Fuck, that is hard to look at yet just like a car crash he is so enraptured that he cannot look away. Taylon was dreaming of him with a sorrowful, yearning desire that blows him away. That is the sadness Daryl has felt in him since the start.
Like he missed me, ‘fore he knew me.
Then he thinks of how whenever they stopped travelling for the night, Taylon would sneak off and write in the notebook he is holding - dreaming of Daryl. Day after day. He flips the pages and sees decades of names neatly scrawled. Different names every time. There are no other Daryl’s that he sees. It is not a fluke. Taylon got it exactly right. The page is old and its writing is faded, making it undeniable how long ago it was penned.
He thinks of Taylon covered in scratches and bites, giving him that wide, beautifully begging amethyst stare as he asked for a first kiss while his body was utterly ravaged and marked up. Not upset about the sex, but so… desperate for affection from Daryl.
And Daryl thinks how he turned Taylon away directly after the chaste request, chest growing heavier. Even so, Taylon had still looked on him like he was desirable after that. Up until… he left.
Out alone where werewolves roam, because that beats… being rejected by Daryl again. Hell, it must be so… painful. All that sad hope.. fer so long.. an’ I more ‘r less told him to fuck off.
After his father's show of violence upon catching him kissing a boy during teen years, Daryl had sworn off romance in all its forms. Yet he had at least gotten a little attention. Just a tiny bit, but something. Taylon has not a drop, like a thirsty man in a desert. Daryl thinks maybe that the idea of saving himself must have mattered; So that his partner would be the only one to know him. Like a gift.
Instead, Daryl had thrown him on the ground and rutted him like an animal. Sure he was barely tapped into his consciousness at the time, but it is still there in his memories. He knows he did it because he remembers exactly how good it had felt. Not that it is any excuse, since when he did get his mental state under control he refused to even give Taylon something as small as a kiss.
At every turn, it seems like he had slipped up yet Taylon was there still quietly begging for attention that Daryl would refuse. Yearning to love him like no one else ever had. Until Daryl finally said no enough that he scared Taylon away, from everyone.
I gotta find him.
Notes:
Daryl does not have a canon birthday so I used Norman Reedus’.
I had to run through and re-bold everything… and it made me start crying.
I’m curious - did you predict what Taylon was writing about in his notebook, or not? I'm really curious to know what the readers thought he was actually writing before this chapter's reveal!
Either way, did you like what it was?Also, am I the only one who actually cried? lol
Chapter 13: Strawberry Ice Cream
Notes:
I mean, sometimes a bro just has to be a bro. BECAUSE YOU ASKED!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Daryl hunts down the only person that he thinks will help him to actually find Taylon. Knowing that he is also the smallest of the vampire bats does make Daryl worried he could fit into any nook or cranny in a building or a forest, and be impossible to find. Even just flying a few miles out would yield thousands of hiding places for one so small. So Daryl believes he needs the help.
Daryl needs someone that knows his… whatever Taylon is to him. Putting words on it feels strange at this point. He pushes the thought aside and focuses on looking for Bijou, but thankfully she is not exactly quiet or subtle so it takes barely two minutes to locate her in the front lobby.
“You,” Daryl says stiffly to her as soon as the woman settles her unhappy pout on him. “I need yer help.”
“With?” Bijou answers crisply with her pout growing into a near snarl.
“Where is he?”
“Oh, now you care?” Bijou claps back with venom on her tongue and ice in her heart. “Why should I let you hurt him again?”
Okay, fucking fair question and an annoying one at that. “Just help me find him.” Daryl all but repeats himself. “I don’ wanna hurt him.”
They glare critically at one another for a moment. Bijou taps her fingertips against the peeling lobby wallpaper, clacking them while contemplating him with a narrow stare. After a moment she speaks curtly. “Taylon would not go too far and, if he is sad - and he absolutely is - he’ll be somewhere sweet.” Although Bijou digs into him at every given opportunity, she does at least yield the information he wants. Somewhere sweet? “Like, human sugars and candy and patisseries, that kind of sweet.” Bijou says before hitting the hunter on one of his sizable biceps with a scowl. “Don’t be an asshole!” Few people that short and petite would dare to come at him but she leans in like a chihuahua with rabies.
“I’ll try.” Daryl mutters with a petulant touch while pulling away from her. At least Bijou is not insisting on coming along to help and has told him hopefully enough.
There are only a few hours left before daylight, so Daryl tightens the hooded cloak Malifus gave him before he goes for the window. It is a small perk to be able to leap from a window, become a bat, and take off flying. He spins a little at first, more falling than flying for a second before he rights himself.
It still feels strange as hell to see the world from a different perspective even if he reminds himself to be ready for it. Things are half out of focus until he really stares at them, then everything in that area comes sharply into hyperfocus with more precision than his human side.
Daryl heads towards the town that the theater house is on the edge of, immediately trying to discern the different buildings while he looks for something that would fit what Bijou said. There is a corner shop that he figures might have sweets, but ends up with a reeking stank from molded produce, milk, and breads. He next tries a bakery that likewise long ago ended up stinking of mold and musk. Figuring that most options would be rancid, Daryl’s hope wanes until he spots a candy store.
This is definitely the right track, so Daryl corkscrews to the ground and returns to his regular form. He half falls forward but it is not a bad landing, all things considered.
The big vats of pick-your-own candies in front had long ago been emptied by bugs, filled with their discolored refuse instead. However behind the counter are many shelves of wrapped candies - bars of chocolates, bags of gummies, and individually wrapped hard candies and lollipops. Factory sealed and thus safe. A whole row is gone, like someone ran a hand along it to take a variety of all but the chocolate.
He looks about before stepping further into the shop, peering cautiously around the counter. Bags of gummy worms, bears, and drops have been emptied in the middle of a ring of bubble gum and lollipops. The old wrappers were tossed into a pile feet away. In the middle of the candy mountain is a very still, familiar little blond-red bat that looks like it got all tuckered out and fell over onto a pile of gummy candies.
Wings and paws are outstretched and his breathing is even. Mostly dried blood has run from his head, probably his eyes, onto some gumdrops, like two red rivers in a macabre Candyland game. Although he knows he found Taylon, he also found him asleep after seemingly crying his eyes out.
Shit. Daryl sets his crossbow on the counter, sitting down on the ground and leaning back against the counter. Maybe I should jus’ wait.
Then he hears tiny thuds, looking down as the mound of candy shifts and pieces roll or bounce down. He must have made a noise. The little bat is turned towards him, scrambling backwards down the mini candy mountain. Almost like a mouse seeing a wolf.
He swallows back the discomfort of Taylon’s startled reaction. “I don’ wanna have this conversation as a bat… can ya be a person?” Daryl asks while making it a point to not say human. He does not need to start out kicking himself for putting a foot in it.
A second later he is staring back at the wide lavender eyes he likes, except they are as skittish as a doe in an open field that a mountain lion just stepped into. Dried, caked blood has run down from the corners of his eyes.
Damn it is nice to admit, even if only to himself, that Taylon is cute. Terrified, though.
Taylon’s gaze lowers to the ground, bloody tear tracks on his cheeks like a dagger in Daryl’s conscience. They mirror the ones on the bat from moments ago. “I thought so... Just.. do it.” He begins to open his mouth, with Daryl recognizing him sorrowfully offering up his fangs. Did his lower lip just wobble?
“Uh-uh.” The hunter corrects, awkwardly reaching up and pushing gently on his chin to close his mouth before Taylon starts crying again. Now that Daryl has turned, Taylon does not feel cold at all. After a second his hand reaches up further to take hold of the smaller vampire’s cheek. Not even a hint of fuzz and damn soft. Taylon opens his confused, glossy eyes and stares forlornly back at Daryl, like he is seconds away from tears. “Taylon.. your notebook..” His gruff words struggle to pull together. “You wrote my name in it.”
“I wrote many names.” Taylon affirms with his gaze flickering nervously up before falling back down, like holding it on Daryl’s makes him so nervous. Although, he is sitting there, not fighting the hunter’s touch in the slightest.
“On the day I was born.” Daryl butts in to press how it means much more than just it being in there. More than just spelled right. There must be thousands of names on thousands of days, but only one on the day he was born - and it is his. “The exact day. An’ you got what ya wrote half righ’.”
“Oh?” Taylon glances up curiously, stare growing wide.
“You knew,” Daryl states hoarsely, wishing he had the words to explain why it means something to him.
“Why were you reading it?” Taylon whispers with a worried glance up that instantly reminds Daryl he probably had crossed a bit of a line by opening it.
“Bijou gave it to me.” Daryl deflects the blame swiftly. “I was puttin’ it down...” Okay, he knows he opened it purposefully but he did start to put it down at first. That should count a little bit.
Taylon stares downward, cheeks darkening like a flushing Hollywood actress in a silent era film. “It’s.. embarrassing.”
“It’s.. good.” Daryl knows it sounds stifled since the words are not coming easily to him but he pushes forward all the same. “Nobody ever gave a damn ‘bout me like that.”
Taylon lifts his stare again but that shaky quality is mostly gone. Still tentative but a little firmer, he declares softly, “I always have, even if I did not know your name or face.”
Damn, that’s sweet.
And offering to be all Daryl’s with such desperation. He caresses the soft cheek the same temperature as his hand, that strange neutral he is still adjusting to.
He lowers the hand on Taylon’s cheek down his jaw and then stops on his neck, right where those old bite marks are. “So I jus’ bite ya, here?” Though now, the marks from their vicious first sexual experience are gone. Only those original ones remain, now beneath Daryl’s thumb. They feel no different to the rest of Taylon’s soft skin.
Fuck, his eyes shine at Daryl. The way hope leaps into them all but cements Daryl’s decision. There is no backing out when Taylon edges a couple of inches closer and stares with those pearly whites so bright and glossy. Taylon gives a tiny nod and then glances down below Daryl’s chin, likely to his first bite. “Yes and then.. I will bite you, if- if you accept it.”
“Am I enough?” Daryl cannot help but ask as doubt rears its ugly head. “Jus’ a dumb fuckin’ redneck..”
Taylon’s brows furrow slightly as if it is obvious and simple. “You are everything to me.” Not will be, not could be, already enough. Daryl swallows down a surprisingly heated lump in his throat to feel so categorically desired from someone the universe is screaming at him to be with. His body is pulled towards Taylon now that Daryl is not trying to actively run from him.
“C’mere.” Daryl growls out half beneath his breath. Why the hell’ve I been fightin’ somethin’ like this?
Taylon scoots over the short space between them behind the counter and lays a cautious hand over his bulky forearm. His touch is hoveringly light, as if fearing it will all disappear and Daryl understands why he is nervous. Hell, so is Daryl, but he also knows there is something between them and it has been brewing since they met, or maybe since the day he was born, or further still.
Somehow Taylon waited for him well before Daryl was even a twinkle in an eye, loving him from afar.
Daryl keeps his hand on that slender throat, near the faded bite. He glances to Taylon’s half closed stare and open, parted lips that he knows have been left so wanting. Thumbing the skin, he thinks of that deep romantic streak in Taylon and how it will be directed to him in a way. Not to the thought of him, but the real man from now on.
He just has to reach out and take it.
Daryl leans in and lets his lips part, tongue lapping once over the patch of skin like Taylon had done to his arm before biting him, back when he was alive. The smaller vampire’s breath shudders but he holds still in wait. Daryl leans back slightly and sets his index finger right beside one mark to ensure he does not miss the little circular scars. He briefly catches Taylon’s mostly closed eyes and parted lips like he is holding a breath he does not need. It is rather alluring.
Leaning back in, Daryl presses one fang right alongside his finger. As he starts to sink his teeth in, his hand slides down Taylon’s throat, thumb rubbing back and forth as he steadily drinks the sweetest thin, savory syrup blood. He is uncertain how much drinking they need to do, so he flexes his jaw and lets that instinctual suction continue for a couple of minutes, while Taylon keeps his head tipped to the side and lets Daryl go at him.
The hunter pulls back with a groan, actually feeling like he does need a breath as he rubs his tongue over his fangs to taste Taylon’s blood. Two steps up from what Malifus had in that flask.
Daryl pulls back enough to remove his fangs, laps his tongue over the wounds, and then pulls the rest of the way back. He caresses Taylon’s cheek while wondering why he has a hint of strawberry ice cream flavor to his blood - Daryl’s favorite dessert on the rare occasions he would get to have any.
“Yer turn?” Daryl suggests when he notices that Taylon has sat shocked and not moved a full minute after he had unlatched from his throat. He watches the shorter figure’s glazed eyes open back up and they rise to Daryl’s neck in a dreamlike haze.
Deciding to help the shocked seeming vampire out, Daryl reaches both hands around his slim waist and draws Taylon up onto his lap. Daryl keeps one arm around his waist as Taylon sits side-saddle on Daryl’s lap, simply leaning against his chest with a tiny smile for a moment.
Then Taylon grips the shoulder of his cloak and shirt tight, holding a fistful of fabric. He leans in tentatively, eyes sliding closed. It is sensual but sweet. Daryl keeps his head tilted sideways a little in offering, waiting.
Daryl feels that lapping tongue signaling tenderness just before a gentle kiss to his throat that makes Daryl’s heart feel like it is beating just for a second. Then comes a slight piercing from those fangs, but that goes away almost immediately. Instead he ends up with sensual sucking to his throat, as Taylon’s hand slides up Daryl’s shoulder and delicate fingers caress the base of his neck.
Daryl stays still except to tighten the arm around Taylon’s waist, fingers sliding under his suit jacket to the white shirt underneath. He caresses his side lightly as the older vampire drinks steadily from him. Something warm settles in his chest and he swears if it is the last sensation of warmth that he ever feels, it will be alright.
When Taylon pulls back after licking him clean, tongue lashing over his fangs, Daryl has to do a double take on his half-lidded eyes. “Tay, open yer eyes more.”
The vampire shifts his gaze, widening it a little while looking into Daryl’s eyes adoringly. The wonderful lavender is still there, except now a dark ring encircles his pupil like a doughnut. The middle fractals of Taylon’s iris just changed color.
“You called me Tay,” Taylon whispers blissfully.
“You have black rings.”
“In my eyes?” Taylon asks quietly while staring back at him. Then Daryl realizes Taylon is looking more closely at him, like he is really trying to stare into his eyes. “So do you, but yours are purple.”
My eyes changed too? They were only just looking at one another before the mate biting, so it had to have just happened. He knows it must be related, which is why Daryl asks gruffly, “Like, lavender purple?”
Taylon nods before the comprehension comes over his eyes, expression lighting up in adoration.
He got black - an’ he said my eyes turned black before - an’ I got lavender.
He thinks of his scars disappearing off his back and the way his eyes had darkened - how his body had changed in death to reflect his mind more than his living body had. It makes Daryl think that accepting one another as mates - and he thinks that term needs an update but does not have a new one yet - must have brought on a physical change in them, too. Which is not exactly his color, of course, but it is strangely nice to have a visible sign that this is the right path. But slightly embarrassing too.
“Why’d ya like it so much?” Daryl asks while letting both arms slip down to Taylon’s waist as they stay close together after the bite.
Now Taylon looks embarrassed, but Daryl figures if he is going to have that on his face he ought to know why. He knows Taylon said it was important to him in life, but never explained why.
“When I was in my twenties, pastels were the in color palette and.. lavender became the signal for men who… men who enjoyed the company of other men more than women. I would wear it, hoping someone would see me.”
Daryl knows that Taylon had been more than a virgin when they met. Now that he thinks of it, he remembers that he is still unkissed, too. “Nobody did?” He still asks all the same.
“Um… Actually I.. I only worked up the courage to go to a pansy club once.” He catches the lack of understanding that must be painted across Daryl’s face. Daryl can feel his brows screwed up. “Uh, it would be the precursor to your modern gay bar, I suppose. I was maybe five minutes in the door and… and the police broke it down.” Taylon sighs deeply.
“Ya got arrested?” Daryl questions. “Fer?”
“Being a homosexual.” Taylon says as if it ought to be obvious, shaking his head. “Just being in a place like that made you guilty. No trial necessary.” His hand comes to rest against Daryl’s chest, sliding underneath his shirt. “It made me… so happy that your era progressed to gay marriage and - and adopting children. I - I was thrown in the back of a police truck and my father was so ashamed but I kept wearing lavender, usually as ribbons tucked under my sleeve.”
“Not all rosy but… hell of a lot better than that.” Daryl thinks of his father and the scars that are no more, knowing that modern men were not all advanced. Yet he opts not to say anything about that while holding Tay tightly in his lap. Not even getting a kiss and still landing in jail - well fuck. “Musta sucked. So that’s why yer eyes changed color?”
“Yes, I would no longer need to wear it.” Taylon leans into the crook of Daryl’s neck, voice softening. “When I turned, the one thing that gave me strength was knowing I had a better chance to find.. you. I would not have been able to meet you otherwise, Daryl.”
“Romance matters t’ ya that much?”
Tay leans back to lock eyes with him, blown nervous but strangely certain all the same. “Love is all I have ever wanted.” Briefly he nips his lower lip and quietly corrects himself before settling back down as if embarrassed, “You are.”
Ain’t never been kissed and it’s s’ damn overdue.
He cups Taylon’s cheek, turning his gaze back up so that Daryl can reach his lips properly. It is like the second their eyes meet, staring into one another’s matching gazes, that Taylon can see what is coming. His dark-ringed lavender stare grows glossy, with the whites shining magnificently as his eyes grow to saucer size, gazing with years of pent up desire quietly locked away but barely visible beneath the surface.
Taylon sets his hands just on Daryl’s shoulders, half closing his eyes after facing him. He leans in, gaze closing the rest of the way. Daryl catches sight of him and almost pauses; It is wrong but cute - lips way too pursed. Far too naively prepared. Too overdone, because Taylon does not know any better.
Daryl figures they have all the time in the world and hell, Tay fits damn nice on his lap. So Daryl just leans in, lips far less puckered. He caresses Taylon’s cheek one more time, briefly hoping he is worth the wait just before their lips meet.
Hope I’m worth all that pain… all them years…
At first it is the tiniest, still touch, with Taylon edging back a little in shock or maybe awe, before he nudges forward again like a frightful prey animal. Daryl makes the connection again, moving his lips slightly to entice the older vampire’s mouth to relax, which it starts to do. Then instead of just a tiny peck he can actually catch Taylon’s lower lip beneath his own.
Ya taste so good, an’ if yer mine I’m gonna keep ya happy…
Daryl’s lips keep brushing slowly and delicately, with Taylon catching on that he ought to move his instead of leaving them pressed forward like a duck bill. His unhurried, naive mouth is worked over by Daryl’s lips slowly. They are shy, soft, and Daryl swears Tay even tastes sweet.
Daryl waits until they have progressed to more open mouthed kisses, like he is slowly working Taylon’s inexperienced lips apart little by little. It could be mistaken for easing Taylon in, except they have already had sex. That hazy time feels like another lifetime though. Everything was rushed and in a confusing daze. This is… different.
Gonna keep givin’ ya all the kisses ya can take…
Then Daryl nips his lower lip, tongue swishing across it a second later. He has the lavender-eyed man pressed to his chest, arms tight around the hunter’s shoulders like he needs something to hang on to. Slowly Daryl edges back the chasteness a little further with each caress of their lips, which has picked up a little since they started.
Tay’s fingertips ease along Daryl’s nape, trickling down before running back up. The slight, delicate touch is sweeter than anyone has ever treated him, but he thinks that is rather appropriate from Taylon. Everything is slow and delicate, making Daryl remember when they had sex Taylon had been pinned. This is probably his first time really touching Daryl.
Actually, he realizes it is probably Tay’s first time touching anyone like this, because he waited for Daryl, and Daryl alone.
So Daryl makes it a point not to follow the animalistic lust calling to him like a siren. It beckons him to dive in, but Daryl stays on the edge of that feeling. His lover’s patience inspires it easily. He caresses Taylon as gently as he can manage, letting their mouths build slowly. For all his inexperience, he at least has a modicum more than Taylon, and yet he can feel how overwhelmingly heady this is.
He has someone now.
Notes:
Nikki - no begging even required from him when Tay is that desperate for Daryl.
THE EYE COLOR, FUCK! YAY!!!
SHOUTOUT TO VINNY AND HIS SOUR GUMMY WORMS!!!!We did it, guys. Coupling achieved! Feels like being in NASA as the rocket touches down & everyone in the control center is high fiving!!
Chapter 14: Adorably Perverse
Summary:
Oh, it's gonna start getting weird ya'll - insert depraved laughter here.
I got the idea for the ridiculously long kiss from Alice & Hugo's first kiss on the Vicar of Dibley. Daryl & Taylon are recent former virgins so it felt appropriate!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
They have been kissing for hours.
Daryl is not exaggerating. A little rubbing and surely plenty of idle, curious touching, but mainly they have kept their lips passionately against one another’s for hours. From awkward naivety, to hungry passion. Not that he minds a second.
It hardly feels like any time at all of course, but when the sun came up there was no denying it. They had to leap behind the counter to avoid the burn of sunlight on their bare skin, clawing their way back onto one another like two frantic cats tossed into the sea scrambling back onto a boat. That was the only time they had really moved but they came back together swiftly.
Taylon moans in his throat, sliding his arm around the back of the hunter’s head. His upper arm slides onto Daryl’s shoulder, tightening his hold as Taylon melts further into the kiss with Daryl’s tongue deep in his mouth. He shifts and Daryl’s arms slide down to his waist as Taylon moves to straddle his lap. Daryl’s attention flickers as something does seem to be stirring in his lover.
That shift of position gave Daryl’s lower chest enough of a brush to know Taylon has a hardness in his pants too. The second Daryl feels it he is reminded of his own hard prick languishing during the hours that he has kept himself from driving into the shorter man like he wants. Forcing himself to give Taylon what must be the longest first kiss that anyone has ever had.
Feels well deserved for someone who waited patiently to love him.
When Daryl finally pulls his tongue back he is rewarded with a half-purr and Taylon instinctively flaring his lips to expose his fangs. Eyes closed, Daryl feels the slight clink of their teeth touching before something long rubs down the length of one of his fangs before caressing slowly back up. The same thing simultaneously happens to the other fang, prompting Daryl to realize that Taylon is brushing their fangs together. He growls approvingly, letting his palm slip down the back of tight pants to finally start caressing his mate’s bare ass while the other hand starts working shirt buttons loose.
He brushes his own fangs back, loving these feral kisses growing rougher but it just makes him need more. Daryl needs to feel him without that near-drugged haze of his deathly transformation hanging over them.
Annoyingly, Daryl has to let Taylon’s bottom go because his fancier fucking clothes are more complicated and need two hands. The buttons of his shirt are particularly stiff. “Why the hell ya wear suits now?” Daryl asks while working the buttons free, tempted to just rip everything off. It is intoxicating to know he can. Just thinking about it makes his nails feel like they are elongating, like they want to rip into something. What is the point of even casual suits in the apocalypse?
“I usually had but… when fashion turned casual I.. I decided to keep them..” Taylon half stumbles over his words, wearing that shadowy blush all down his jaws. Their faces are inches apart. “I like it and.. and I thought it would help make a… a good first impression on… you when - when I would meet you.” Fuck, he is so goddamn cute the way he looks to Daryl with those big doe eyes while admitting Daryl spurred so many of his choices before the man had even set foot on earth. “Now I am… used to them.”
“Yer adorable,” Daryl growls out heatedly.
Taylon actually whimpers at the praise, fingers tightening on Daryl’s shoulders. The soft noise sends a spike of arousal to Daryl's groin.
“I want ya naked.” Daryl mutters with minor lustful frustration as he has barely gotten the shirt buttons undone, revealing the pale flatness of Taylon’s chest, only to be reminded that pants still create a chasm between them.
Like a well trained pet, Taylon eases back off him and quickly unbuttons his trousers, sliding them off. Although his face is near grey with what must be a strong blush, his briefs are slipped down too, revealing a cock smaller than Daryl’s. Slim white limbs come out of shrugged off clothes.
That’s all I had t’ say? Daryl wonders in surprise as Taylon hurries to divest himself of his clothes before settling back down onto Daryl’s lap like a shy, naked gift as the hunter rakes his eyes over him. The shadowy blush has completely taken over Taylon’s face.
“Now me.” Daryl says quietly, deciding to push his luck and damn, it actually works. Taylon pushes out of his lap again and gets between Daryl’s legs and his fingers fumble but they get Daryl’s pants unzipped, belt undone, and Daryl lifts his backside before rising to his knees for a second and involving his own hands to get them all the way off rather than making Taylon fight gravity and their position. Fuck, the fact Tay is swiftly and willingly doing it despite his shyness - because Daryl said - is too much of a turn on.
The only thing he leaves is his shirt, already unbuttoned, for Taylon to push off his shoulders - because as soon as he does, bringing him closer to Daryl, the hunter catches his lips and makes him smile shyly into a kiss. Daryl presses on the small of his back to bring them tight together.
Got a naked guy in my lap that can’ stop thinkin’ bout me. All horny - all mine.
He pulls back slightly as Taylon caresses his jaw, getting a feel on his beard, he thinks. He catches half lidded, pleased eyes and meets them, slowly bringing on a slight smile as Tay gives him a little beaming one. Every time he is reminded of how hard his cock is, he spots that cherubic face and his urges quiet, overwhelmed by a desire to make Tay feel secure after all the stumbling it took to get here. Not thrown down on the ground like a piece of meat.
Though, with Taylon being invitingly bare, he cannot help one hand from sliding down and gripping the otherwise thin man’s perky backside. Fuck, he likes how that feels, especially with Taylon taking that same moment to press a tender kiss to the bottom of his jaw. A soft delicate touch that promises Taylon will take every moment he dreamed of and make reality a hundred times better for them both. A promise that says he already likes all that Daryl is.
Never really been alone, an’ never gonna be again, huh? Daryl meets his lips eagerly, taking what is… his. That is a heady thought. He intended to keep it gentle but within a moment those soft lips are too yielding, too inviting for his tongue. Especially with a handful of Tay’s soft rear.
He needs to fuck this sweet man.
Daryl keeps one hand on Tay’s bottom but puts the other gently on the back of his head so that he comes along with Daryl while the hunter lies back down on the ground while going slow enough to not break the kiss. The weight of another man should be heavier than it is, with Taylon instead being comfortably light. Tay stretches slightly and yields himself, ending up using Daryl like a mattress save for his lifted head and upper torso as he of course does not break that kiss.
Taylon cups his jaw tenderly, making Daryl think no one in his life has ever touched or treated him as gently as this. He can almost feel Tay’s emotions as waves of appreciation, affection, and happiness, like they are bleeding through their kisses in turn.
Feeling urged on, Daryl rolls over to get on top. He has to ease up his touch on his… lover? Maybe. Either way, Tay’s backside is released by Daryl so he can get between his slim legs. “Mhmm.” Daryl groans and licks his lips at blond hair spread out on the floor with gumdrops and gummy worms up near his head. Blown wide, trusting lilac eyes with that perfect ringed reminder of their ethereal connection rest in a field of gray that constantly shakes just a little bit from the panting coming out of his slightly plumped, finally well kissed lips. Not to mention a slim pale neck just begging for a bite, still bearing those invitingly open, slightly bloody bite marks.
Unable to fight the desire, Daryl bends down and parts his lips, baring his teeth and gums just before sinking back down into those waiting neck punctures. He spreads his lips just a little while flexing his jaw, getting the bleeding to speed up. Tay moans underneath him wantonly, prompting Daryl to start lightly dry humping their nethers together while he sucks the blood from his throat.
Fuck, rubbin’ up on another guy… And they are both equally hard for one another, cocks brushing together erratically.
Taylon is so fucking gorgeous and undeniably his. He died alone, so why not live a better afterlife? It feels overdue but also right on time. Now he will not be alone.
Damn that blood tastes so much better than anything he ever ate when he was alive. Then he groans as he feels Tay take one of his arms, bringing it to his lips and biting into Daryl’s forearm too.
Some minutes later, after they have been circulating their blood between one another and savoring the grind of each other’s bodies, Daryl’s too hard from desire and Tay is still moaning around his forearm. Flexing his hips, Daryl’s cock brushes his lover’s while shifting back down. He groans in time with Taylon as they rub together, raising his jaw to pull his mouth off Taylon’s neck. He never lapped at it afterwards, so dual rivulets run down that pale neck.
The tip of his prick follows Tay’s down to his cock’s base, then balls, and encouragingly Taylon’s legs lift as if beckoning him to go further. They lock around Daryl’s waist and his ankles settle against the small of his back. There could never be a better confirmation of what he wants than that.
The hunter pauses to press a kiss to his forehead, unable to reach his lips but savoring Taylon’s adoration as the shorter man still drinks from his forearm. Daryl rocks his hips, fighting the urge to drive right in as his tip finds a familiar, puckered hole. His fangs are bared instantly and Daryl leans back to focus. He might have already fucked Taylon once but he does not remember starting it.
Daryl pushes his hips forward slowly, easing the end of his cock into Taylon’s tightness. A small weight ends up pressing on the bottom of his spine as Taylon’s ankles tighten on him, fangs stilling in Daryl’s arm as he keens in his throat.
He makes sure not to put his weight on Tay, keeping it down on his kneeling legs while driving in all the way. “Feels so tight…” Daryl groans, wondering if there is anything he can do besides take a second to just hold still so he does not cum straight off the bat.
“Because I-I died a virgin, I’ll always go back to being this tight…” Taylon tells him between a slow building panting breath.
Shit! Is that like… the afterlife version of winnin’ the lottery?
“How am I not gonna break ya?” Daryl mumbles against the top of his head while keeping himself still for a moment longer, wanting the answer before he starts moving his hips.
“You um, actually are stretching me enough.. to tear me a little right now but… my body is slowly healing around you, making it tighter and.. I really..” Taylon catches his eyes a second later, eyes wide as he is looking absolutely caught. “I-I like that.. I like the little bits of pain.”
Ya didn’ know that ‘bout yerself.
Daryl suddenly wonders where the hell that comment about pain came from. Is Tay.. is he secretly a little freaky? He wonders if it could be a vampire thing, since their bodies are just plain different to how they were while alive. Taylon’s ankles pressing into his lower back do make him think it is more than a generalized thing. Then again, Daryl is not sure he feels the same; pain does not sound appealing to him at all. Either way, Daryl swallows down a thick set of nerves as he realizes the added benefit of this is that he has a little more wiggle room, which is probably going to be useful since neither of them has any idea what the hell they are doing.
Unlike their real first time, this time Daryl is focused on staring at the eyes that inversely mirror his own now. So foggy in arousal, so fucking adoring all the same. He jabs his hips to test what Tay said about pain, keeping his eyes on Taylon’s face so that he catches the jerking features that comes up for just a split second, instantly melting into an aroused moan.
Yeah, he likes it.
“Tay…” Daryl starts to thrust at a decent speed, fingers clenching into two fists as his lover’s body spasms, sending Tay arching beneath him.
“Daryl!” Taylon softly cries out as his ankles tighten on Daryl, head tipping back and partially dislodging his fangs. That only makes him cut into Daryl’s arm a little with each jerk of the newer vampire’s hips. The heavier blood flows straight down into Taylon’s waiting, tipped open mouth that Daryl’s arm rests over.
“Gimme yer arm, Tay.”
Instantly an appendage is offered straight up and Daryl sinks his teeth into Taylon’s dainty wrist. Not just the fangs, though those pearly crescents of course go the deepest, but all his front teeth. He sinks his teeth in so he can keep Tay’s wrist in his mouth with just his teeth while still thrusting.
Shit, this is perfect. Everything feels more incredible than his body ever once felt while alive. Taylon’s body is achingly tight, like he was made just a size too small but Daryl fits anyway. He thrusts in unsteadily, sometimes getting Tay’s tip grazing his upper belly and reminding him this is where he should be.
Blood is coming out of Tay’s wrist fast, maybe he hit some artery. It tastes better than every good flavor he liked in life all rolled into one, flowing constantly across his lips. So much so that he can feel it smearing across the outside of his lips.
“Daryl.” Tay chokes out adoringly before sinking his fangs into the arm over his lips, back arching. Then Daryl feels fingertips idly brushing his coarse beard as the hand of the other arm - of the wrist he is sucking - caresses his jaw.
Fuck he’s so sweet.
So obvious from one glance at his newly recolored eyes how madly in love with Daryl that Tay is. He pants harshly against the hunter's arm, staring back at him like he cannot believe Daryl is real, and buried deep inside him. Slit eyes, trusting, and wholly loving.
Then Daryl’s eyes close when everything is too tight. That backside is crushing him and his arm gets a snap from a sudden, harsher pain. Taylon’s back is rigid yet in an elegantly erotic curve as Daryl’s hips briefly buck, as time slows down between them. Daryl sinks his fangs in gums’ deep, holding fast as his hips buck with a rippling series of overwhelming pleasure running through. He knows with each thrust of his hips that he is cumming inside Tay, eyes closed and heart strangely full as his pleasure overwhelms him like a full moon to a werewolf.
When he catches a breath he never felt himself starting to take, Daryl releases his fangs out of Tay’s wrist but he keeps it in his mouth to rub his tongue on the dainty appendage as the blood flow slows.
Tay likewise laps at his arm before letting Daryl take it back so he could pull out and lay down beside him. Though, something stings his arm and Daryl jerks away.
“Late day sunlight.” Tay warns, reaching for Daryl and drawing him cocooningly nearer, huddling behind the counter while hiding their nakedness from the light. “Did Malifus show you how to become a bat?”
Daryl nods, adding with a little self-satisfaction, “I flew here to find ya.”
Tay smiles and presses a quick peck to his shoulder. “I’m so glad you did… um.. It would be easier as bats, in there.” Taylon nods to the counter they are taking shelter behind. It has a corner door open and it does look dark inside. “We can come back out at night.” Since Taylon has known Malifus a hell of a lot longer than Daryl, he figures if Tay is in no hurry, then they do not have to worry about falling behind.
“Can we have sex as bats?” Daryl asks as it comes into his mind, finding too much connection between his brain and mouth all of a sudden.
Despite being completely naked, bitten, and seeded with Daryl’s cum, Taylon still gets coquettishly shy with the question. Big lavender eyes look up at Daryl through thick lashes, nodding twice. “I’m yours now.” The words are a tiny reminder of their connection’s permanency, but mostly Daryl thinks Tay is telling him it is open season on his body.
So, Daryl slides open the door to the counter a little further. He watches Taylon disappear and be replaced with a tiny tricolor bat, which flies into the dark depths of the cabinet.
Mine now. Daryl thinks before transforming himself, managing it for the first time with his eyes open. He flies right into the cabinet, eager to take more of what is his.
Notes:
Oh shit, Daryl did not expect Tay to like it freaky-deaky style!
Daryl is slowly getting into being in charge in that way.I'm not adding it to their song list (because it belongs to Adrian & his ex) but Barbie Girl by Aqua came up while I was writing some smut between these two and... yeah... yeah... fuck it is kinda right for these two, LOL!!!
Good news - Next chapter is BAT SEX!
Bad news - I only wrote a couple more chapters after this. FUCK! Any words of motivation are appreciated!
Chapter 15: Bat Cum
Notes:
Happy one month fic anniversary!!!
I’m using both bat and wolf mating & pack habits together as the lore-basis of a lot of this. Also just me being weird.
Making no pretense with that chapter title - no siree!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The cabinet seems to be mostly paper bags on the left side, plus some rolls of receipt tape. Everything looks humongous at this size. However, the right side has a mountainously large, manufacturer’s size bag of loose gumdrops and gummy worms that are most likely meant to refill one of the large, now bug filled vats of pick-your-own style candies.
When Daryl arrives, Taylon has already ripped open the plastic bag of candy and unleashed the sugary scent into the air. A few gumdrops and worms escaped the bag, and one tumbles down near Daryl as he enters. He watches Tay hurriedly shifting around at the top of the bag, enlarging the space and evening it out. It reminds Daryl of a nesting bird.
Though, the comparison becomes more apt when Tay splays out in the center of the gumdrop mountain, on the flat top he created. Backside lifting, immediately piquing Daryl’s attention. He flutters up to the top, dislodging one gummy worm on the way with his clawed, long toes. Then he goes still, waiting.
That adorable little bat with blond highlights over its back has its haunches in the air while its upper body nestles down into the candy. His wings are bent and drawn tightly against Tay’s body, making Taylon look all the smaller and more inviting. Of course, with his backside in the air, and his body still in wait, the invitation is clear. The mating gesture is obvious but Daryl still lets his beady eyes rake across his lover's furry form while settling behind him. His feet clutch into the candy, pressing into the pleasantly squishy floor/bedding combo.
As Daryl leans over him, he realizes he is probably a half inch taller and a bit larger than Taylon. He guesses that must make him nearly a four inch bat - still small, but he is aware that even a slight difference feels great when he is in such an itty bitty form. He feels himself tower a little over Tay, wings fluttering and cock already hard. It hangs heavy and wanting, feeling a little too large. His prick definitely seems longer than it ought to be, but all Daryl cares is that it is hard again.
Unlike before when he really had to think about his actions, there is a siren song from Tay’s body to his own. Daryl steps behind him, feeling a small squeak rise out of his throat where a groan should be. Daryl’s bat body tips forward, letting him bury his nostrils into Tay’s back fur. He smells of the woods after dark and some unfamiliar mammalian scent.
Then Daryl smells something familiar that intrigues and confuses him, dropping his head towards it. It smells like leather in the woods, with a smoky hint but he swears he knows that scent. Daryl starts letting his tongue flick, sensing it is the best way to figure out the familiar yet new smell. Like his cock, his tongue feels unnaturally long. It flicks over Tay’s body, making him shiver and let out little squeaks. He lets out the loudest when Daryl’s curious, hummingbird-like tongue flicks in between his lover’s furry little backside. The smell is strong down there but he knows it is not Tay.
Then Daryl gets a taste of it and he realizes that what he is smelling is himself - vampiric cum bearing his woodsy scent coating his lover from the inside. He flicks his tongue twice back inside. A pleasant chitter noise escapes Tay, before Daryl is hopping back up into that haunch-hugging position and sliding inside him. It takes an extra couple hard jerks of his bony little hips with Tay being smaller than him.
After that everything just focuses tightly around their bodies. Daryl does not know how, but his body urges him not to move away. So he thrusts more like he is humping, never pulling fully out of Taylon. His shaft is too big for the smaller bat and he can feel the slickness that comes with blood, but he keeps going because Tay has not stopped his quiet, pleased high pitched squeaks that Daryl knows has taken the place of his moans. Never woulda guessed he’s kinky.
He does not think Taylon knew either.
Buried in Tay’s fur, smelling him while grinding into him, Daryl loses track of everything but his wheeling climaxes. Each time that one comes on, he stays buried deep and digs his claws into Taylon’s sides. He possessively rests his leathery body on top of Tay’s afterwards, as if expecting another bat to come along any second and mate with him. Sometimes he nips down at the back of Tay’s neck, or nuzzles with his now pointier nose, but mostly they lie still together between sessions.
Daryl never pulls out, keeping him plugged with his soft but still long shaft until he is ready to go again, almost like a ruddy blanket on top of Tay. When the urge renews, Daryl’s back arches and his wings flutter before coiling tightly in against Tay as he starts up the almost rabid humping. Neither cares that reproduction is not the goal, or that no other bats are around.
It stays feral, protective, and tight like that, over and over. At one point Daryl notices a little blood drying on his cock’s base and he stops to finally pull out and lick himself clean, catching sight of Tay’s furry, still raised up backside and his abused entrance; Wet, stretched, and glistening with flecks of white and red. With instincts running him, Daryl lets his long, probing tongue flick in and out of Tay over and over, tasting the pair of them, until he only looks sopping wet. Then, hard again, Daryl flutters on top of him and thrusts back in, starting up again.
“Daryl…” Tay moans at one point in a high pitched voice that he actually understands. It surprises him, as Daryl never really thought that they could actually talk in this form.
Then again, they have not had a need for words for hours - a thought which arouses Daryl, and leads him right back to his mating thrusts. Thoughts slip away but not in a haze like the first time. Daryl is so focused. He lets his much tinier fangs hit Taylon’s fur, though it is thick enough to only shallowly break skin. He still likes having a neck to grip onto though.
When his lover whines lowly beneath him after another climax, Daryl pulls out and starts letting his tongue run over Tay. He is not sure why but it feels good having that colorful fur under his mouth. He fights to start at the top and pull back as far as he can, licking with the grain of Tay’s fur. Then his lover half turns beneath him, finally coming out of the mating position he has spent hours in to start licking back at Daryl. Their long tongues briefly meet a couple of times while they are trying feverishly to clean one another’s upper bodies and rougher, more angular faces, all wet, soft, and caring.
Almost like his human brain is coming back, when Tay sits up and presses into Daryl he finds himself bursting from emotion instead of instinct. In bat form, Tay’s head only just reaches the crook of his taller mate’s neck. He nuzzles in with a tiny deep purr, rubbing under Daryl’s chin and cooing in a way that says he is Daryl’s.
Fuck, he really is mine.
Flinging one leathery, thin wing around Tay, Daryl keeps his snuggling mate close. His wings are more than large enough to engulf his lover and himself, with only gummy candy under their feet. Tay keeps adoringly nuzzling his neck like he needs to scent mark Daryl, and the hunter chitters back approval now and then, as Tay coos.
After they had curled in on one another’s furrier forms for some minutes, Tay ends up asleep upright in his lover's wing wrap. Daryl tips his limp body over back into the gummy candies before laying down like he had during their feral mating, though he does not thrust into him. He does bring his wings in tightly against Tay though, and he nuzzles his face down into the woodsy scented fur of his mate’s upper underbelly. No clutching claws, just one limp, leathery body on top of another.
Daryl wakes up as a bat and would be shocked, except the furry body beneath his is invitingly cozy. A perfect mattress. Too cozy to do more than burrow against his lover even further. He is half curled, he finds, like a little C-shaped creature that has wound itself around Taylon’s body. His feet tucked just under his mate’s, while his face nuzzles into his neck.
The nuzzling slowly grows more energetic.
Hit with the urge to wake him, Daryl starts rubbing his long nose into Tay’s throat. Like a truffle pig, his nose brushes through fur to nudge the dark flesh below. His mate’s cock lengthens from the attention of Daryl grinding down on him. He grunts a couple of times, but it comes out as sharp, high pitched little barks instead.
When his lover whines as he wakes, high pitched and adorable, Daryl flips him over with a bite to the neck and a push of one wing. Tay does not fight it and immediately arches his backside up. They slip back into their feral bat rutting far smoother than they should, given what a new couple they are.
He really has to push those hips to get past Tay’s tight entrance though.
Daryl loses count somewhere after his fifth or sixth climax for that session. They turn into a mound of instinct and shallow thrusts between jerking, furry bodies for hours. Daryl drools a little and his long tongue flicks out to catch it, not bothering him with its awkward size anymore.
Once certain any more will kill him, Daryl flops onto Taylon’s back while still thrust inside him. It just felt right to curl into Tay, keeping his lover’s ass filled from his long bat cock buried completely inside him. When they started Tay was barely sticky, and now his backside is soaked. Haunch fur not damp, but wet. Every inch of Daryl’s cock is pleasantly moist.
Had they been regular bats and one been a female, their breeding would have surely been successful.
Instead it is a different sort of success as Daryl stays filling his still softly panting lover with what is a sizable, long prick even when soft. Like his toes and tongue, all his appendages are proportionally far longer now than in his human form.
Tay’s completely flat against their gummy ground, looking like a bearskin rug except more leathery in places. Even with the panting, he is obviously content. Daryl is not certain why he knows the difference to the tiny noises coming from him, but he does. Everything in bat form seems to operate on instincts that Daryl has no problem yielding to.
After nosing the back of his neck, Daryl sits up and pulls out of Tay with an effortful pull of his hips. In the back of his mind it does freak him out ever so slightly - like a distant yell - that he immediately bends his head down and lets that lengthy tongue flick across his own cock until it is clean and shrinking. Daryl flutters his wings slightly and then dips his nose down, getting in between Tay’s especially thin, bony legs and flicking his tongue across his lover’s soaked entrance. Taylon cheeps a couple of times like a bird, chin still resting on a gumdrop, and holds still while Daryl follows the instinct to clean him. Daryl never thinks twice of slapping his tongue across his lover’s sticky rear that tastes strongly of Daryl himself and his lover’s blood. Even ignoring Tay’s insides, just cleaning his backside actually takes the longest.
A half minute after the red bat stops cleaning, the tinier tricolor bat sits up and nudges himself into an upright position under his mate’s chin. They cuddle like that for a couple of minutes with minute hummingbird shakes, before Daryl flies out of the cupboard with Taylon following right behind. When Daryl reappears in human form behind the counter he almost immediately gets an armful of Taylon, who seems to have appeared as close as possible to immediately tangle together. They return to the final hold they had as bats, with Taylon tucked under Daryl’s chin and nuzzling, though he no longer shakes.
Which, Daryl is honestly glad for. Not just because it feels good holding onto him, but because everything he did as a vampire bat hits differently with his humanistic sensibilities back. That memory of heat on his cheeks hits and he thinks he must be blushing.
Fuck, he tastes his own cum in his mouth and that is strange as hell.
Daryl barely got started wrapping his mind around being out to anybody. Now he just… flicked a really damn long tongue in and out of Tay’s ass, and rutted against him for what must have been the entire day because it is dark out again.
Not that Taylon seems to mind. Hell, he is pressed even more flush to Daryl, like he cannot help but want to mesh their bare skin together. Daryl’s shoulder is being lightly caressed, but otherwise he seems quiet and based on the little soft smile on his face that Daryl catches when he leans back for a second, Daryl thinks content. So much happier than their first time, especially with Daryl holding onto him now.
Taylon likes me tearing his ass up. Fuck, he’s… Daryl cannot find the word for it. There is still such an innocence about him, but deep down Tay likes Daryl going further than Daryl thought himself capable. That had been especially rough at times and he thinks if he were alive that he might have done things differently, but doing this dead, well, that is a different story.
Those bat instincts are something else, too. His body knew what to do every step of the way but it still baffled him after the fact. He never thought he would be into that kind of thing - humping, getting painfully rough, and licking ass. That last one had been such an overwhelming desire to clean Tay up that he never thought about it as uncomfortable until now. He might not know zoology but Daryl knows enough about animals to know that was a mating instinct. Especially the way his body had insisted it stayed pushed inside Tay, keeping him filled and corked with the hunter’s seed.
And Tay had loved it.
Deep down, Daryl had too.
Even now, the thought of licking all through that fur and pressing himself flush to that shuddering body is starting to turn him on.
Daryl’s cock is proportionally so damn huge in bat form too. It feels like fucking with a water bottle.
Hell, bat sex is damn good, he decides.
He stares down more critically at Taylon’s bare body, but the bites and scratches are already scarring over. The worst is his side where Daryl guesses his hind claws had dug in; Those marks are still red and look large on Tay’s human side. The rest are only faint gray reminders of the intensity of their sex. Daryl is minorly relieved by the speed of healing, but then again the vampires all look pristine. If they did not heal, well, he guesses they would look like walkers.
Daryl lifts a hand to see his own arm scarred over already, just a few shades darker than Taylon’s. He figures it will get quicker with time, though it is already impressively fast to him. He knows Tay barely thinks anything of it, making Daryl wonder how long until he forgets his slow, human healing. Until it becomes the past instead of the only thing he has to compare his afterlife to.
Yet, with Tay snug against him with those waves of love rippling out from him, Daryl thinks it will be alright. Not what he expected, but the apocalypse is nothing if not surprising.
And he is not alone now. Not in the way he has Rick, Carol, and the group, but differently. More intense and passionate and private. More like his own special treasure.
He thinks of Taylon’s book and how his lover had yearned for someone just for him. Daryl gets it now that he has a person of his own, winding a tight hold around his slim waist. A peck is felt on his rough chin as Tay smiles up at him with unabashed, soft joy just before Daryl steals a deeper kiss.
A very precious person just for him.
Notes:
How do you celebrate a fic anniversary? With bat sex on a gummy mountain!
Chapter 16: Stay This Wet
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
They attempt to get dressed, but Daryl snakes his arms around Taylon’s waist when outerwear starts to go on, and pushes him back onto the counter just to kiss him for a while. Tay’s lips are a little on the thin side, though they have plumped a bit from being so well kissed. Nice, soft and yielding now.
Maybe Tay is too accommodating. His legs spread as soon as Daryl pushes up on him, making it feel impossible for Daryl to pull away.
Once pressed flush to one another, they are able to feel how hard the other is already under their clothes. Daryl grabs his lover’s slim ribbon-like tie and undoes it, pulling it out of Taylon’s white collar and tying his wrists together with it instead. The urge came out of the blue but feels right. He smirks a little at that flushed, pleased looking face meeting his own stare after. Tay leaves his wrists above his head, back against the countertop obediently as Daryl undoes all those stupid buttons that he is starting to hate.
But… Daryl has a thought that is spurring him.
He remembers when he had first pressed into Taylon in bat form, his lover’s bat-bottom was full of human cum. Now he wonders if his human backside is full of bat cum, as Daryl had only licked a little out of him - a thought that still gets him nervous.
Tay’s probably pretty sticky from the continuous climaxes, if it did transfer between forms. It is such a temptation to picture.
Fuck, he needs to know.
So Daryl hurries to peel off clothes that had only just gone back on Taylon’s body minutes ago as his lover gazes up at him, never questioning the sudden onslaught of passion. The sappy lavender stare does not try to stop him once, urging Daryl into a quick kiss that turns less and less brief as Daryl enjoys losing himself in it. By the end he has to stop himself to get Tay’s pants and briefs back off, letting his own belt and pants fall down his legs.
Taylon’s legs are not spread enough for him to tell so Daryl pushes them further apart, making no pretense of privacy, only to find his hole already glistening wet. There are some dried flecks on the cheeks of his ass that catches Daryl’s stare. He is not sure why that is such an erotic sticking point for him, but it is.
Theory proven, he could have stopped there.
Except, Taylon is laying back naked on the candy shop counter with his legs spread, and Daryl holding his ass cheeks apart. Tay has not questioned his lover once either, including letting that thin ribbon remain binding his hands when anyone could have pulled them apart.
That complete trust is as new and startling as it is arousing.
So Daryl takes a hold of Taylon’s thighs, drawing his spread body closer. He takes a page out of his bat-form and immediately shoves in and begins thrusting without pausing, groaning. Tay’s legs snap around him greedily as he gasps.
It is better than he thought - his mate is beyond slick and he can feel his cum from earlier within his lover’s cavern as Daryl overfills him again. He pushes in harder, bringing Tay’s sac against the top of his pubic mound within the first couple thrusts just to watch the older vampire arch harshly against the countertop and cry out in agonizing pleasure.
“Yes, Daryl!” As his legs tighten needily on Daryl’s back, the hunter smirks a little. Tay’s secretly dirty. Not just in liking the faint wisps of pain, but how eager he is to go along with it all. To drop all his clothes and spread his legs apart even if it makes him flustered, because that is what Daryl wants him to do.
Not to mention how filthy it is that usually tidy seeming Tay got dressed with his ass so slick.
That slippery hole makes Daryl think. He knows he saw something on television once about female bats holding sperm for an while, and he wonders if Taylon could just leave himself filled all the time. Doing it once had felt so damn good to slip back inside, what would happen if they kept it up? Now that is a thought that brings a sensation of heat over him.
Daryl… wants that.
He’s gonna stay like this. Daryl decides as the greedy thought circles in his mind like a cat before a lit fireplace. Feeling that urge almost fluffing up his pride, Daryl bends down, caresses Tay’s hip, and whispers commandingly in his lover’s left ear, “Yer gonna stay this wet all the time, back here.” He gives Tay’s ass a tap. “Only I can clean ya.”
“Uh-huh.” Taylon whispers back obediently, nodding quickly as he looks up doe eyed and grey cheeked. There is a shy hint of pride in his stare up to Daryl, like he knows he is stirring an awful lot in the hunter’s chest. “Always,” he promises with an obedient hint of his bat-like coo. “Give me more?”
Daryl rolls his hips, nearly biting through his lip with his fangs at the thought of his mate being so willing and eager to take on both his orders and his cum. This knots him up inside.
He pulls out so he can flip Taylon over onto his belly, smirking deeper as he looks even more on offer with his splayed legs draped over the counter, chin resting on it now, and still tied wrists hanging over the other side. Every second Tay is gut-clenchingly eager.
It reminds him a little of that ass up position in bat form. I fucked him for hours like that. Best of all is how hungry Taylon still is to be fucked and take Daryl’s cock again.
More impressive, he thinks, is the lack of tiredness or any urge to stop. They have kept going for so many hours. More than a human should be capable of. If anything he barely has to rest before wanting to jump Taylon’s inviting body, outside of that midday nap they had shared. Somehow knowing their bites and cum transfers between forms makes it sexier, too.
Taylon whimpers in his throat as Daryl pulls him off the countertop with ease, because he is remarkably light. Too damn light. It takes practically no effort at all to hold Tay panting by the thighs, and drive back in. It’s like he’s… weightless. Daryl savors Tay’s back against his chest before driving into his lover like a willing cock sleeve.
“You’re so strong!” Taylon manages to heatedly say while his voice seems to quiver, having just laid his tied wrists behind his lover’s head. Now both arms lie back on Daryl’s shoulders. He leaves his bent legs in Daryl’s arms, not fighting the growingly frantic fucking nor trying to take control at all.
Is that it? It’s me, not him? Daryl wonders briefly, though the most important thing in the moment is to keep driving in and out of that agonizing slickness while holding Tay around his middle.
They are definitely going to lose another hour - and Daryl does not give two fucks.
Taylon has to use the counter to keep himself upright when Daryl finally sets his well fucked body back down on the ground. Taylon’s bodily shakiness both instills pride in Daryl despite his sexual novelty, and prompts him to ease his arms back down around his lover’s waist, finding it no problem whatsoever to keep him upright. It is richly satisfying to watch him get his bearings over the next minute.
Best of all, Taylon’s clothes are put back on while he is still full of Daryl’s cum. So much more full than before. He obeys the order given in the heat of the moment. It does something to the hunter’s subconscious to know of that secret, like he is marking him and also leaving something for next time. Just thinking of it stirs his paint.
Tay will bear the proof of their mating and seems to have no hesitation. He only pauses to button their shirts properly, fixing Daryl’s first, then his own, and yielding a quick, chaste kiss to his lover’s jaw.
A flash of teeth and fangs is seen before Taylon’s smile shifts back to that shy, more usual one. He glances up repeatedly at Daryl through his lashes, as if he can hide his excitable emotions. Daryl catches his eyes at last though and Tay grins suddenly like a giggly schoolgirl, eyes so adoring on him.
That lavender with a black ring, like he is always carrying Daryl with him.
Leaning in with searching eyes to study the colors, Daryl gets two arms laying over his shoulders. Taylon then outright giggles, leaning his forehead against Daryl’s shoulder and hiding his face.
“What?”
“Just… you.” Taylon answers like he is trying to hide the joy in his voice. That is when Daryl realizes he is happier than he knows what to do with.
‘Cause I came to find him and made him.. mine.
He decides to make it a point to tip lovestruck Tay’s head up so he can kiss him, savoring the sound their lips make. Though, adorably, Taylon is back to that blossoming smile as he is held close.
“Don’t ya wanna go back?”
“All I want is to stay in your strong arms.” Taylon answers lovesick and sounding too happy to think straight, which is cute in its own way. Daryl does not think he has ever seen this sort of unfettered joy from him.
“Tay…” Daryl murmurs, having seen the moon hanging low in the sky and been reminded why (at least in part) he came to find his lover. The werewolves could be out there and if they start screwing around again they will miss their chance to fly back. He doubts the sun feels better on bat form than it would on his humanoid one.
“And hear you call me that..” Taylon whispers back, cherishing the nickname Daryl had chosen for him. That adoring voice makes it easy to caress him.
“We’ll never end up leavin’ here.”
Tay is giving him a stare that says there are worse fates than spending the rest of their endless lives having sex on countertops and candy piles. Still, he has eased up a little at least. Though, Daryl knows from his lover’s behavior that he has a little more control so he shakes his head no.
He opts to put his proverbial foot down, if only to keep them both safe. “When we get back, maybe, but I gotta take ya back.” He catches a little nod of agreement from Taylon, feeling both settled and surprised that his words keep being obeyed. “Is it safe?”
“If we fly high then it will be fine.” Taylon answers softly with a nod, while stroking one hand adoringly along Daryl’s right shoulder.
“Those bastards killed Vindar, didn’ they?” He does not admit it makes him worry.
“Yes.” Taylon sighs and inclines his head slightly forward with regret.
Fuck. He really had broken his heart with his refusals if Taylon would have rather come out here anyway. Daryl leans forward and kisses his brow, knowing he will not make that mistake again. Those adoring, delighted lavender eyes peek up at him through long lashes, reminding Daryl that a lot has happened in a few hours… er, at least a day. He is not used to this strange shift in how time passes. It feels like hours but the darkness of night proves it is much longer.
Damn there is so much of this that he is not used to. With his concerns returning to getting them back to the others, he thinks about the werewolves. It makes him wonder about his worry on what could kill a vampire, too. Before he had wanted to know just to satiate his own mind so that he could defeat them, if need be. Now he is one of them and he wonders what can kill him a second time - or Taylon.
“Werewolves can kill vampires?”
“Their claws can tear us enough that it is too great to heal.” Then Taylon adds, “Not light like in films, but they were right about a stake to the chest.”
“Already did that.” Daryl remarks on his first death, the quip earning a small smile from Tay. It does make him think though. “What killed you? The first time.” Daryl asks him curiously while still holding him loosely around the waist.
Tay stares downward with parted lips, eyes nervous but searching for the right words.
“Ya don’ have t’ say.”
“It’s complicated but vampire hunters - Van Helsings.”
If vampires and werewolves are real then of course some group of assholes has to hunt ‘em.
“Vampire hunters killed you… as a human?” Daryl questions whether he is understanding this right. Maybe Tay misunderstood. He had asked about Tay’s death and surely that meant going from a human to a vampire. So why would vampire hunters kill a human?
“That’s the complicated part.” Taylon answers quietly with a shake of his head. “My father ran booze through his hotel during prohibition and vampires began using it as a point of contact. At the time I was - I was moving guests’ bags but the Van Helsings came accusing him of being a vampire conspirator. They threw him in the street and shot my father.”
“I’m sorry, Tay.”
He shrugs, not too bothered by the mention save for a glint of sadness in his eyes. Daryl does not see that Taylon is truly bothered though. It reminds him that this all happened so long ago, well before he was even born.
“I didn’t know what was happening but a guest told me, all a-panic, that there were ruffians on the roof.” As Taylon carries on explaining, Daryl’s expression crunches. “We were trying to make that a nice lounge area there, back when nobody else was doing it. I went up there and Malifus, Bijou, and the others were there being attacked by the hunters.” He shakes his head at the memory, as if chiding his past self. “I stupidly - stupidly stepped in, and thinking they were humans said we do not allow that sort of behavior in our establishment, thank you very much… and one of the hunters grabbed me and threw me.” Daryl can barely picture it. The distress comes in a little clearer as the memory of the pain of death returns. “I hit the ground… so hard but buildings were much shorter then, so I lived but I was broken and not long for this world.” Daryl knows how those final moments are yet he finds it strange that they both died from falls. “After killing or scaring off the Van Helsings, Malifus came down and found me bloody but living. He warned me and then turned me.” Daryl wonders about Malifus in that moment. The fact he warned Taylon before changing him is something he wants to mull over, but he knows now is not the time. “I left with them that night and I was pronounced officially dead a few years later by the Illinois State Court.”
Poor Tay. His lover’s death sounds awful, though Daryl doubts there are many good ways to die. Especially if you are turned during a moment of panic while someone is trying to save you, like they had both been. He remembers what Taylon said about the others hesitating while he rushed to Daryl - because they are meant for one another.
He slides his hand beneath Taylon’s soft jaw, tipping his head up so he can look in his eyes. Daryl leans in and kisses his forehead, lightly rubbing the back of his head and letting his hand keep going down Tay’s nape, then neck. When his hand finally reaches down to Tay’s hip it stops.
They have each other now and he can tell from the look in Taylon’s eyes that he not only knows it, but has been breathing that fact in like an air he needs. Daryl thumbs his chin gently as they stare at one another for a minute. Neither says the dark truth that they both needed death to find one another.
Honestly, Daryl can accept being dead to have this. What did life ever do for him?
Notes:
Anyone else lose their shit when Daryl told Tay he will be a little cum dumpster? Did I go too far? Curious what you guys think of that, and of Tay’s method of death?
Chapter 17: What Is Normal?
Notes:
Daryl & Tay rejoining the group! The journey to Alexandria continues, with some awkward cuddles!
Getting more of this written & we are definitely gonna pass 80K for a total wordcount - fanfiction gods & comment fairies, please give me strength!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Let’s go back,” Daryl gruffly mutters while lifting his crossbow off the countertop at last. If they wait any longer they will surely be in trouble with the sunlight.
“When we do… and we have to sleep, will you hold me?” Tay’s final request is a soft and gentle one accompanied by begging, wide lavender eyes.
“Sure.” Daryl figures it is not much to ask and it obviously will make his mate happy. Besides, he can use it to nudge Taylon to the door, even though he knows he has not exactly been firm about them leaving. He has not pushed much despite them first trying for the door hours ago. “But we gotta get there first, Tay.”
Taylon nods while giving him that adoring and obedient stare.
Approaching the door with the care he tends to give in walker-infested areas, Daryl peers at the open street and is satisfied with its emptiness. He holds one of Taylon’s hands, glancing at him. That looping, ribbon tie is loosely done around his neck, as if Tay expects it to be pulled off again. Just the thought is tempting, but Daryl pulls the door handle instead.
Taylon transforms into a bat and flies through the open door, with Daryl taking a step forward before closing his eyes and thinking of that leather, furry form that he actually does not mind so much. Then he is corkscrewing through the air before mounting high to follow after his lover.
Adorably though, Taylon loops around repeatedly to fly nearer to Daryl as if making sure he can gain height without any issue. They rise above the rooftops together, then pass over the woods with trees growing smaller. Daryl swears he feels a hint of coolness from the air for a second as a breeze from behind hits them, carrying them with less effort.
It is actually nicer flying with someone close by. They both repeatedly fly nearer to each other, as if trying to cross paths but they never get close enough to touch.
They sail and soar before circling down over the theater building. Taylon flits near him, making sure Daryl comes to a steady stop near the ground before they both transform. As Tay pushes open the door, holding it open for him, it hits Daryl that they will be ‘together’ in front of both their groups. That will surely change things.
Yet he only needs a sniff of the open door to realize something is slightly amiss. They enter the building and Daryl swears it is quieter. There had been a faint noise, like a generator going, but it is gone now.
No soft lulling heartbeats.
“My love, they left a note.” Taylon remarks near a table at the front that had been filled with playbooks when they had last been here. Instead there is a single page, which now rests in Taylon’s hand.
My love? Daryl cannot help but be a little surprised by that, but he approaches Tay all the same. Guess he’s just two steps ahead.
Instead though he just sees scribbles that make no sense. Luckily Taylon immediately explains. “It is coded - it reads; Taylon and Daryl, we have gone on ahead. We will meet you a few miles north, or in Alexandria if your mating takes too long.’ And it is signed by Malifus. Dated yesterday.”
Kinda embarrassing. He never told Malifus where he was going or why, either. Then he wonders if Malifus taught him to fly so that he could go after Taylon safely. He cannot help but get more embarrassed. Mating? He called it that, fuck. Yet to his surprise, his shy lover hardly seems at all bothered or shy about the note.
Sensing they would not be at the theater for long, Daryl goes for his bag before pausing. “Want yer notebook?” Daryl asks, knowing he had left it backstage.
“I have you now.” Tay remarks with quiet but pleased contentment. It embarrasses and flatters Daryl in equal measure that Taylon’s routine writing exercise can be set aside, because he has the real thing now. Still, he likes the thought of his name written on his birthday and what it means to him, so he walks backstage to get it. Maybe he will keep it for himself now, especially that one page. His page.
After tucking the notebook away, Daryl rejoins his lover to fly out. They have precious few hours left before sunrise.
In fact that becomes a problem when they have flown along a couple of hours later without spotting their group. Their people must have made good time. Before the sunrise hits, Taylon begins to descend and Daryl follows him. His lover is cautious.
Once near enough to the ground they transform and pull their cloaks up. Taylon takes an extra pair of gloves from his bag and puts them on Daryl’s hands with a loving glance to his face. “We can keep walking, but if you are tired you can lay in my bag in bat form and sleep.”
“Same t’ you.” Daryl offers him, knowing he already did not mind carrying Taylon in his shirt pocket before. Now it will be all the better.
Taylon leans in to kiss his cheek and gets close, but pulls away when a ray of the first morning’s light hits his outstretched face. He winces from the brief burn. Daryl reaches both hands to his lover’s hood and tugs it further forward. Then he leans in so that Tay will not be endangered, meeting his lips for a quick peck.
When he pulls back his hooded lover smiles happily at him before they take to the road, following it north like they were told.
Taylon is quiet company when it is just them on the road. He has been smiling an awful lot more than normal, which Daryl knows is about him. He knows it because when he glances at Tay sometimes and catches his eye this bashful look hits and yet he only looks all the happier for having met Daryl’s gaze. It is peculiarly bewitching.
It is cute.
Daryl might be nervous about taking Taylon - a male and a vampire - back to his group with the new title of lover. That is a hell of a change, particularly when most of them have yet to adjust to his new state of living. It feels almost like piling on.
In spite of his nerves, Daryl is eager to get his afterlife started now that he has accepted his adoring lover. He wants to be with the one that has waited for him. More importantly, he does not want them getting caught out by werewolves again.
As they walk he thinks of their raucous, long lived sex. Taylon’s perky ass comes to mind, knowing it is full of proof of their time together. It heats Daryl up in that artificial way to think of Tay’s perky backside being slick and sticky right this second, knowing he asked for it, and his lover obeyed.
Hell, not even that. Begged sweetly for more. Tay had immediately taken to being Daryl’s little cum bank.
Every inch of Taylon had been offered up so willingly. He knows a part of it is that desperation from waiting, making Tay all the more eager to please his long awaited lover. As his mind runs across that body, it hits Daryl then that for all the hours they had spent together, he had not gotten to know his lover’s cock at all.
Don’t think I even.. touched him there. His focus had been on Tay’s backside, not front. He knows his lover was not left wanting, but he thinks now that perhaps next time he will pay Tay’s slim body more attention.
Next time… nice thought indeed. The proverbial road stretched out before him is so much longer and, he thinks, fuller. Even if he is dead, he has someone beside him that cannot stop smiling at him.
Smiling, because Tay is thinking of that future, too.
Overjoyed to be with him.
Tay… It had felt so natural and normal to call him that when he had let Taylon finish bonding to him. Every time since, it felt just as right. Rupert…
“Why Taylon?” Daryl asks after they have been walking in a peaceable silence for some time.
“I liked Talon but not the inflection of it.” His lover answers back peacefully in the quiet. Trees on either side shade them, providing an added calm to the walk.
“Talon?”
“Something tough…”
Daryl nods, though he thinks if you call a marshmallow a rottweiler, it is still just as squishy. Still, it is kind of cute how Taylon had crafted his own name while trying to fit into what he must have seen as a new, tough vampire image. Yet, clearly the years must have not changed his personality as much as Taylon probably thought the bite would.
“Rupert ain’t bad.” He means it, too. It is cutely fitting for his lover.
“Feels so old fashioned now. So weak.” Tay admits quietly. Then he turns to his lover, peeking out of his hood. “You didn’t change yours?”
“No.”
“Daryl is beautiful.” Tay answers with pleased satisfaction.
The hunter snorts at his lovestruck response. “It is t’ you.” He reaches a gloved hand out and lightly taps Tay’s backside, thinking of what is buried within.
Daryl earns a smile thrown his way as Taylon steps closer to him. He knows they could probably speed this up, though he has not tried using any vampiric speed yet. He knows one of them could turn into a bat and ride the other to save energy. But he thinks they are not doing any of that for a reason - knowing how much better it feels now to walk near one another.
So, Daryl keeps up their trek as is, not minding a single second of it.
It is past nightfall when they finally catch up to the others in a tiny town just off the main road. Once the dark hit, they could fly together and then it became easy to spot a bit of light and soar towards their people.
Ferdinand is standing outside, staring attentively ahead though he looks over as they approach. He must be on guard. The buff man gives them a stiff nod and no resistance as they pass. Daryl still feels that his stare is not quite right when it rests on him but at least the anger is gone, as if dulled.
When the pair of them walk through the door, immediately their presence starts turning heads. Carol is the first to greet Daryl, coming to his side. She reaches for him in concern. He brushes her worried look off with an insistence that he is fine.
“You disappeared,” Carol remarks with mild concern still pressing forward.
“Had somethin’ t’ do.” Daryl knows she is aware, or must be sort of, but he does not want to piece the words together.
Carol glances behind him before meeting Daryl’s stare again. “I’m happy you got something good out of this.”
As if reminding him that Carol means the person at his side, Malifus approaches Tay, giving Daryl a single nod as he draws close that says all is well. It unsettles him a little that the older vampire had known exactly what he was going to do. He still thinks Malifus made it a point to teach him flight just so he could track Taylon down.
He walks back with Carol to the others to catch up, not feeling bothered by her living presence. Only then does he realize the forest was not so loud with Taylon. Once he thinks on it, then Carol’s heartbeat comes to mind.
Better. Much better, since he can push the thought away as easily as bringing it to him.
“Everybody’s sleeping except Rick and I.” Carol tells him, which does warm his icier heart a bit. They were the two who Daryl would worry most about, and it seems like they felt the same.
“Finally!” Rick exclaims while spotting the pair of them approaching, rising up to his feet. He leaves the sleeping group and approaches them, then clasps Daryl’s forearm while looking him over. “Where’d you go?”
Hell, looks like whatever Malifus figured out, he kept it to himself…
Carol clears her throat and her gaze moves back over his shoulder. Rick follows it to Taylon who is… fuck, he is grinning like a teenager whose crush has asked them to the school formal. He is smiling so brightly while speaking to Malifus, who keeps that steady stare unaffected save for the tiniest upturn to his lips.
When Daryl had turned back from where they were looking Rick sets a raised brow on him and Carol’s got this irritating little quirk up on her lips like Malifus. Daryl sticks his hands in his unfamiliar pants’ pockets, stares at the ground, and says nothing for a minute, not until their silence persists.
“Nowhere.” Daryl eventually mutters, unsure how to explain the stark change in his love life.
“We should sleep.” Carol breaks up the trio with that knowing, happy smile.
Many of the group are already asleep so as they leave him, Daryl glances over to Taylon, finding him likewise finished talking and staring Daryl’s way. Malifus transforms and flies up to the cluster of sleeping bats on the ceiling. Taylon and Daryl gaze across the space at one another for a second. Then Daryl holds a hand out and Taylon immediately approaches.
Daryl grabs one of Tay’s hands once he is close enough and walks him over to the pile of sleeping humans. He can faintly hear their heartbeats but pushes that aside.
It never strikes him to be concerned, since Taylon seems so harmless. Plus Daryl’s own hunger is gone. All that matters is returning to his people.
Laying down near Rick like everything is normal settles him slightly. It is weirdly nice knowing that Tay wants to lay down with him, even if Daryl knows the others will see when they wake. Though, pushing away Tay is not an option. Not anymore.
Taylon had never slept so close to the humans but he does not refuse, laying right down beside Daryl and snuggling against his chest with a small smile. One arm immediately lays over Daryl’s chest, causing him to look over. Then Daryl reaches out and pets his hair as they drift off, tired from the journey and from all the changes.
Sometimes though, change is good.
Hmm…?
“Should we… wake them?” Glenn’s voice whispers from just above him.
Steps are growing louder as Daryl feels himself coming into his consciousness.
Some’in’ tastes good…
“I don’t think that’s safe.” Rick murmurs in response, voice close, as Daryl senses a tasty weight in his mouth.
The steps cease close by. “Malifus said to leave them.” Carol’s voice is the final push to his awareness. “It’s… it’s normal.”
Then a hint of strawberry flavor passes his lips and Daryl realizes his fangs are buried into Taylon. Blearily, he opens his eyes and lifts his head only to find his fangs slipping out of his lover’s neck. Three sets of legs in his periphery, with Tay’s body firmly against his front and he faintly feels something on his arm. A cursory glance confirms that Tay has his fangs in Daryl’s forearm and is drinking him while snoozing. They had to have started drinking from each other in their sleep, which the hunter supposes is why he tastes blood and is licking his own fangs. They have flipped in the night too, with Daryl squarely on top of Taylon’s back.
Glancing up, the embarrassment hits them all as Rick, Carol, and Glenn are standing in front of the sleeping vampires.
“Morning.” Rick is the first to break the tense silence from above, obviously fighting to keep a somewhat neutral expression and failing just a little.
“Uh huh.” Daryl answers quietly, sitting up and making sure his fangs are tucked under his lip. It would have been a nice way to wake up except he feels the pressure of their living stares. Glenn looks shocked.
“Does that hurt?” Carol asks in minor concern, as Tay is still sucking Daryl’s right arm in his sleep while the mark Daryl left on his throat bleeds.
He shakes his head no, genuinely not bothered by it at all and knowing Tay will be fine. He cannot explain that it tastes good and makes him feel closer to his lover, like things are settling into place. He knows it would sound crazy so he simply shakes his head and leaves his arm laying there for Tay to keep drinking from.
Glenn is the only one openly looking worried, but also the first to move away. Daryl thinks the awkwardness has hit him hardest. Well, next to Daryl. It is more than a little disturbing to know his friends had watched him spooning Tay and sucking his neck like he is a goddamn lollipop. He figures his romance is blatantly out in the open now.
“We’ll be over here.” Rick tells him, leaving second with Carol hot on his heels.
Not wanting that awkward gray flush to hit his dead cheeks, Daryl sits for a minute to gather himself. He eventually reaches down and takes hold of Tay’s jaw with his free hand, gently removing him and freeing the hunter’s bare arm.
Daryl licks his bicep to stop the bleeding. As he does he watches Tay sleep, especially eyeing up his bloody lips. They look so fucking kissable that it lights a fire inside him, but he knows most of his people are within a stone’s throw. So he simply leaves Tay where he lays to join them.
The newer group - Abraham’s weird expedition - all stare openly at him. At least the people he knows try to be subtle about it, but he still spots their long glances and feels the weight of their stares on his pale skin.
Not like I asked for it. Daryl wants to remind them, slightly irked to have been forced into this position. All he had done was try to run and fallen. Any of them could have been in his goddamn shoes. Still though, he knows he has traded life for something far sweeter in death, but their stares still bother him.
“I forgot and made you a bowl.” Carol explains why she has two before passing it down to Carl. It makes Daryl remember he is just that much different to them, but he shrugs it off in front of them. Carol means well, she always does.
At least being near them is not a problem. He is glad he can sit among his family and still feel like one of them even if everyone is eating except him.
Oatmeal was never that good, but it smells like shit to him now.
After he had sat with them for a while, and it feels like fewer people are staring at him, it hits him how best to explain it. So Daryl pulls out Tay’s notebook and opens it to his page, before handing it to Carol.
“Cute.” She tells him after spotting his name.
“My birthday.” Daryl taps the date to underline its importance. "Day I was born." He had never told Rick or Carol or any of them when his birthday was, because who gives a shit? Now though, it matters.
“Oh… that’s wild.” Carol whispers as the gravity of it hits. She stares for a time before handing the notebook to Rick, who raises a brow to him.
“He’s mine. How it is.” That is all Daryl gruffly says to explain it away while not meeting their eyes as he speaks. Should be ‘nuff said. He hopes they understand now why he was suddenly so set on finding Taylon that he left them all behind. In retrospect he knows how it might look to have left, and he wants to assure those that matter that he is still on their side.
It is just… Taylon is someone special to him. Meant to be with him.
Maybe they will not question Tay’s presence since he will surely be around more, too.
“Is he staying with us, or you staying with them?” Rick asks from beside him while holding a half eaten dish of oatmeal.
“Dunno.” Daryl answers seriously, genuinely uncertain where he now falls between the two groups. He had never broached the topic with his lover either, not that they talked all that much. Daryl certainly feels no urge to leave his own group, but he doubts after decades that Tay will leave his people just because Daryl asks.
Then again, Tay does have a penchant for following Daryl’s orders but… he does not want to give an order that Tay will dislike and maybe grow to resent him for. He does not want to force him into anything that would upset him.
No, Daryl has no idea what the hell the future will hold.
“Maybe there isn’t an us or them anymore.” Carol points out quietly, making Daryl think. He hardly wants to be a bridge between them but knows that it sure feels like it now.
But like Carol said, sides are growing more muddled. Tay is with him, in that way; He is certain they would never turn on one another. Malifus has never guided him wrong and reminds him a little of Rick. Even Bijou had only been acting out at him because she cared about Tay - and now he understands her ire. If he had spent the whole apocalypse listening to Carol fantasize about some guy, and then Carol’s perfect guy dropped out of the sky, fucked her, then pushed her away, well… he would have been pretty pissed at the bastard too.
With that in mind, Daryl rises to his feet. “I’ll be back.” Daryl assures his family while knowing he has to go to Taylon. Leaving Tay to wake up alone after their first real sleep together is probably not what he should have done.
Notes:
Awkward moment there for Carol, Rick & Glenn! Hah!
There are new tags I added for potential future scenes - good or bad? Yay or nay? Please let me know what you think about a possible Merle introduction & the other tags (the pseudo-foursome tag!!!!)
I can hear Nikki's joyful screaming already for the new tags, lol!!!!
Chapter 18: Our Blood, Our People
Summary:
If you can guess Bijou's crime, I'll update both my fics right now, lol
Notes:
So remember how I amended this to 80K? I don't think that's gonna be right either. I think we'll hit 100K at the end if I add Merle and DC. I just can't shut the hell up... This was supposed to be 30K when I planned it!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Poor Tay is already awake though, sitting up and looking around in confusion when Daryl approaches. He brightens at the sight of Daryl though, stirring a little confusion within Daryl as well as flattery to have anyone looking for him.
Daryl sits right down beside Taylon and is rewarded with a smile and Tay’s hands descending gently on his forearms. “Daryl..”
“Was jus’ talkin’.” He assures his lover while vaguely wondering who is watching them. Daryl leans in and whispers quietly. “We bit each other, in our sleep… that normal?”
“Yes, for a.. bonded couple.” Taylon’s voice gets all soft as he grows shy admitting it is not necessarily a ‘vampire’ thing, it is a ‘them’ sort of thing. “It’s very romantic.”
“Not sayin’ it ain’t, but why?” Daryl presses for a reason as to why it is a couple’s thing. He has never seen any other vampires sharing blood like this. They never dig their teeth into each other.
“Every drop circulated through one another makes it not your blood, or my blood, but our blood.” Tay answers with a romantic twinge and that small smile growing rosier without any added hue.
Like a shared heartbeat between two silent hearts, Daryl thinks. He guesses it does not matter but the romantic aspect is more appealing than it merely being about hunger. But like Carol said, sides are growing more muddled. While Taylon might have been one of ‘them’ before he is now Daryl’s. That changes a hell of a lot, at least it does for the hunter.
Daryl cups his lover’s chin and pecks his lips once, since Tay is sweet and he had to wake up alone. “C’mon. Sit with us.”
“Of course.” Taylon answers with a small smile, following after him with an ease that Daryl is glad is there. Like Taylon is so eager to slot right into his life.
Carol and Taylon congenially greet each other, before Rick asks his lover how close they are to the sanctuary town. To Daryl’s surprise, Taylon says it is only a couple of days away.
“The walls are high and the people are kind.” Taylon tells them of the place they are traveling to. “Many of them have been tucked away since the start.”
The fact its walls have kept it going long enough to let its people be spared from hardening is what Daryl focuses on. Even if some of them are soft, he knows having vampires there will keep the walkers at bay. A safe place will mean the world to them all, but especially Judith and Carl.
“What’s the living situation like?” Rick asks, searching for more answers for his family. The hunter knows he is worried for his children and hardly blames him after Terminus was such a horrendous disappointment. He also knows that Rick does not share the same belief in Taylon anymore and that just days ago, Daryl himself was trying to find an advantage over the vampires. So he does not take the sheriff’s wariness to heart.
“Houses to spare so I expect you will get some of your own.” Then Taylon turns to him alone with a small smile. “Our base is the largest home, and I would be very happy to share my room with you.” Tay’s voice is sweetly soft at the end. And yer bed. Daryl knows that is implied from the shine in his lover’s stare while they look at one another.
The seconds linger richly between them before Daryl realizes how quiet it has become, glancing over to see Rick staring in shock and Carol grinning at him. They both heard that.
“Any running water? Electricity?” Rick asks after a beat of awkward silence.
“Limited, but some.” Taylon confirms, turning away from the hunter. “Getting the grid back online will take much time.”
“The grid?” Rick questions, likely having thought such a thing was long gone.
“Well, vampires knew it was coming and put a plan in place. This of course includes eventual widespread electricity and infrastructure. However, we are still in the early days so goals are short term, but the town itself will be more than able to keep you comfortable and secure. There is a school, a general store, an armory, a church, and a little playground.”
Daryl reminds himself that to long-lived vampires, months would seem early. He knows Taylon has mentioned it before, but it feels strange hearing it from the other side now. People without a heartbeat, like him, had known the wildfire virus was coming and prepared for it, without telling the world. Granted, who would have listened to another quack screaming about the end of the world back then?
“Is there going to be any more being fed off of?” Carol asks him curiously, causing Daryl to realize that by bringing Taylon over he had inadvertently exposed his lover to his friends’ curiosity. Luckily though, he does not seem to mind.
Wasn’t he.. Yeah.. he was in charge of humans. Daryl recalls what his lover had said about them being a division for ‘human affairs,’ back before Taylon had been his lover. It makes Daryl realize from Tay’s current ease and the fact he was the one always shepherding his group and watching over them, that Taylon is in charge of… well, managing the living. That feels like the right way to put it, though he still feels like he is doing them a disservice to phrase it that way.
It also makes him wonder more about the vampiric group.
“We only did that because we were in a bind out here. In a sanctuary, there is no need.” Taylon assures Carol, adding a little pat on her forearm which she does not flinch away from. Daryl knows he feels cool to the touch comparatively, remembering how it felt when his body had been warm. He is glad Carol is not shying away from Tay, nor Rick, even if their curiosity for him is a little self serving. “However, some humans do go into the larger cities to swap their blood.” Tay then adds, shifting all their attention right onto him, including Daryl’s.
“Wait, really?” Glenn asks while leaning into the conversation. He must have been eavesdropping.
“It is a powerful currency and the experience is more like giving blood at a hospital or a Red Cross, so humans do not mind coming back after the first time.” Taylon leans in and whispers in Daryl’s ear very lowly. “Those have been run by vampires for as long as I can remember.”
Bet a lot of shit was.
“What are the cities like? Changed?” Glenn asks, now turned completely around and in a semi-circle with the rest of them. After a moment, Maggie walks over and sits beside him, listening in.
“We have refashioned some major cities into vampiric strongholds. They have been reconfigured into various districts. Many vampires live in them, and some human families, though fewer. Alexandria’s shipments come from D.C. - which for us, is now short for Death’s Curtain.”
“Death’s Curtain?” Rick repeats incredulously.
“You talking D.C.?” Bijou pipes up, grinning while walking by and catching an earful. She shifts direction and settles down on Taylon’s other side, now between him and Carol. The odd woman has turquoise tights exposed today.
“I was merely explaining to our new friends.” Taylon tells her.
Daryl notes that Taylon is far more warm and welcoming to his group, likely sensing that Daryl is trying to get them all to get along, if only to ensure he can be around them both. It is a little selfish on his part, but Daryl does not mind losing his old life except for the people in it. He wants them brought along into this strange, new madness.
“Is Daryl coming to D.C.?” Bijou asks, making Daryl wonder what she means. He supposes the vampiric group must have it in their sights for a future trip. That is so many miles away.
“We have not talked yet.” Taylon murmurs softly, making Daryl curious from the hesitation in his voice as he overhears them. “I was explaining that cities still exist and D.C. was first, and that there is blood donation there.”
“Oh yes. That makes the money, honey.” Bijou laughs freely while turning back to the mortals. “Plus, a human cannot get into a vampiric city without a blood donation, unless you get an official summons.”
“Wouldn’t it be dangerous to go?” Carol questions curiously. “If you aren’t a vampire.”
“Not at all!” Bijou chuckles as if that is obvious. It makes Daryl want to scowl but he merely narrows his eyes on her. Luckily Taylon is more yielding.
“Carol, it is safe thanks to having a percipient at the entrances. Those are the vampires who read hearts. Once assessed as good, you would be free to roam within.” Then he adds knowingly to assure her, “You ought to be safe since harming a human within city walls is against the vampiric code of conduct, and city laws.” Taylon turns and lays his hand on Daryl’s upper chest at the mention of their code. “You will have to be caught up to speed in time, but we do not have to worry yet.”
“Is it tough?” Daryl questions, though strangely Tay’s assurance is enough for him to not worry on having to adhere to something unknown. Whatever rules Taylon and Malifus follow, they do not seem cruel or cowardly ones.
“No, simple.” Taylon assures him while leaning in a little closer to Daryl. “Obvious things, really - like never turn a child.”
“Nobody wants eternal puberty.” Bijou scowls.
“And if someone fucks up?” Glenn curiously asks.
“Don’t.” Both Bijou and Taylon say in unison.
“Don’t?”
“Simply do not do anything against code.” Taylon says it strictly.
“Is there someone enforcing it?” Rick is the one to ask that, cogs clearly turning in his mind. Malifus had enforced it among their own group, but surely there are rogues and more.
“A treasonous enough error would result in the attention of the High Council. Possibly a decree of death. It ought to be up to the head of your clan, normally… Simply put, do not violate code.” Tay then turns to Daryl alone. “Although, my love, it is likely nothing you will ever want to do.”
Carol’s lower lip actually falls an inch when Taylon calls Daryl ‘my love’ aloud in front of the rest of them. The hunter tears his gaze off her, looking at how innocently Taylon is staring at him. Like he either does not see it as a big deal, or it rolled right off his tongue unnoticed.
“ ‘kay.” Daryl murmurs to yield a response that his lover seems to be waiting for, while knowing they are definitely being stared at. He keeps still, like a rabbit, until the feeling of their stares passes.
“The cities are fun - party districts never stop.” Bijou pipes up, and for once Daryl is glad for her stream of chatter. It fills the quiet and diverts attention off the fact that he and Tay are still staring at one another.
When they get out on the road that day, Daryl thinks about what he knows of the vampiric group. It sounds as if D.C. is their next stop after the sanctuary. He knows picking up the mess of them in Terminus had not seemed like a plan. Neither had safeguarding them. Whatever they are up to next, it sounds like it will take a journey.
Taylon is of course in step beside him, fallen towards the back of the pack. That makes it easy for Daryl to lean in and ask. “What’s in D.C. fer ya?”
“Checking in and reporting our duties is the official reason, but it is good to unwind there. Really, we just like going.” Taylon admits to him, which surprises Daryl. He would have expected some big mission or something grandiose.
“Yeah?”
“It is a lively place for a fun night out, but I also have a little apartment with Bijou. It is a nice place to spend our months off.”
“Ya get time off?” Daryl then raises a brow at the picture that is painted which is so much the opposite of what he expected. It is also a little strange but sweet to picture Bijou and Taylon setting up house together. He recalls from the story of Tay’s death that Bijou had been mentioned as being there, so he knows the Frenchwoman has been beside him all this time.
“Yes, only we take weeks and months off, not days like humans. Time is fluid that way.”
Daryl nods a little, having been feeling that. It has shifted when he is truly enjoying himself to zipping by. Time has changed how it feels in death.
“I could always ask for a deferment.” Taylon pipes up after the quiet stretches between them.
“Fer?”
“To not go to D.C, if you do not want me to.” Taylon softly answers.
Oh… I didn’ say nothin’ so he thinks I’m worried? Or he thinks I don’ wanna go? Maybe I’m not invited - I’m a vampire but not part of their group or division, whatever the hell they call it.
“Dunno yet.” Daryl shrugs in the uncertainty. It is nice for his lover to offer to stay, though he wonders if Taylon actually could. Would he get into trouble? Maybe that deferment thing is the way out of trouble. “Could I go with ya?” Still, Daryl is not sure how he will feel about leaving the group in a new place to trot off after his lover. The thought of abandoning his mortal family does not sit well with him, but neither does asking Tay to change what he does for Daryl’s sake, especially when it is part of his job.
“Of course you can… I daresay Malifus would let you join our division if you agreed to it, but I know you have a loyalty to your people.”
Daryl turns and eyes his lover, surprised at how glad he is to hear that Taylon knows his people matter too deeply to him to give up. He reaches out and takes hold of his lover’s gloved hand, squeezing it tightly. “They’re family.”
“Then they’re my family too.” Taylon whispers loyally to him, leaning in so they brush one another’s arms while walking. “And I promise, they will be safe in the sanctuary.”
“Any vampires there?”
“Of course. There is a permanent protector stationed to every sanctuary city, and Alexandria has Rotterdam.” He grows more thoughtful. “He is a quiet, rough around the edges sort. Polite and very good at keeping an eye on the sanctuary. Then we have two of our team held back there. Shori is a percipient and historian. He is such fun to be around, and very kind. Then there is the newest addition to our team, Merle. Surly, but a good enforcer.”
“Sounds like my brother.” Daryl remarks quietly, remembering Merle’s razor-sharp tongue and surly disposition, but his brother had been able to get shit done. It must be a curse of the name. However, he focuses on the jobs of the vampires. “So ya got a heart reader…” Daryl has figured out that is what that odd ‘percipient’ word means by now, recalling Verity in his memory. “Security..” He thinks of the bulky figures of Vindar and Ferdinand, and how they had always been patrolling until Vindar threw himself between the humans and werewolves. He figures that Rotterdam and Merle are tough bastards too if they take that same role.
“We call that a percipient and an enforcer.” Taylon gently explains to him, head tipping to the side as he regards his lover. “Are you trying to figure out what our jobs are?”
“Yeah.” Daryl murmurs a little shyly.
“You may just ask me, love.” Taylon reminds him gently. The hunter’s hand is squeezed. “Malifus is alpha, and Adelaide is beta.” The terms are peculiar when used outside the animal kingdom but Daryl knows enough to see it as leader and his number two. “Enforcers physically keep everyone safe. Percipients read humans. My capacity is human management.”
“Human management?”
“Speaking with, and safeguarding, the mortals we run across. A liaison.” Taylon explains what Daryl had suspected before - that his lover’s job is solely to watch over the living. He had been attentive and careful to not offend them back in Terminus, definitely showing his role. “It is nice having someone permanently looking after any we happen across.”
It fits Taylon too. That sweet, caring nature is what people need while confused and afraid.
“So, what’s Bijou?” Daryl asks after deciding everyone else made sense - Malifus, Adelaide, Vindar, Verity, Ferdinand, Taylon, but what the hell is Bijou meant for?
“Every group needs a wildcard, although…” Taylon finally sounds like there is something not-so-easy to admit about their job. His voice drops to a whisper that is only for Daryl to hear. “It is a punishment for Bijou, to be in humanity’s service.”
“Punishment?”
Taylon bites his lower lip and then shakes his head shyly, his words growing softer. “It is a long story, and I feel this is neither the time nor place, my love.”
“Fair ‘nuff.” Daryl answers with a nod, knowing they have plenty of people around them. He hardly needs to push any buttons when they are so close to the sanctuary that his group needs. Yet it does make him wonder what Bijou did that was criminal enough to escape death but warrant a tour of duty for humanity, in a society that seems to not value life.
Still, he has enough to fill his mind without worrying about Bijou - like what the hell he will do when it is time for Taylon to go to D.C.
Notes:
Elongating the fic because I love the idea of Death's Curtain & want to include a vampiric city. That's quite honestly why I know this fic will be longer.
MERLE MENTION!!!!!!!
Fucking Daryl.. guess it's a common enough name down south but come on. We know!Any guesses for Bijou's crimes? We know harming humans is a no-no, and that kidnapping a baby was an instant death sentence... so what's bad enough to be worth servitude but cannot be charged with death? It is so specific that I WOULD BE SHOCKED if anyone will guess it BUT if you do, I'll immediately post the next chapters of this fic & my Cat & Dog main fic. Both insta-updates on offer (8K total!) because I bet that it's an unguessable crime! Please prove me wrong!
The hints I'll give is that Bijou's crime has something to do with her soul mate, a well-known (vamp lore/media wise) vampiric power, and a country (not France!) Also, I left another big hint, but you gotta find that yourself.
So, what did Bijou do?
Chapter 19: Strawberry Tea & Shy Exhibitionism
Notes:
If you didn't guess last chapter's question, you totally should try. :p
Slightly delayed because AO3 was down for maintenance when I tried to post this earlier!
Ugh I am so BEHIND!!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Daryl can smell the dead well before they are in sight of them. The horrendous, acrid aroma of decay fills the air and brings creases to his brow as he frowns. It smells like walking through a decaying field of sick near heaps of old trash. Like time has done horrible things.
Malifus calls Daryl's lover away to help clear a path through a small herd ahead with his gorgeously sweet voice. Daryl slows a little with the rest of them, though they barely have to stop. Three or four dozen walkers around them and they just keep moseying on. It still amazes him to see.
This is why they got this shit under control, Daryl thinks to himself. The vampires can control the walkers and, based on their physical adeptness, he thinks that even if some walkers were to end up where they should not, that the speed at which they could be put down by a vampire would prevent catastrophes, like what happened in cell block D.
He thinks back to the sickness at the prison - if they had just one vampire back then, they could have smelled the first person that turned and snapped their neck before anyone else could be bitten. Same with the Governor - if one vampire had been there, they could have rushed out and ripped his throat open. Problem fucking solved.
Whatever problems are in the group’s future, he knows an awful lot of them will be taken care of thanks to the presence of the good undead. That is what he thinks he will call them. Walkers are dumb beasts, but still bad. Vampires though, they are different.
They have to be, since Daryl is one of them now.
After clearing them past the herd, Taylon returns to him and murmurs a request to Daryl to lift his cloak with a tired but polite please, so after a hesitation Daryl lifts one arm and shields him with his cloak. A second later his mate has transformed into his bat body, and is zipping into Daryl’s hood.
A furry, tiny little creature shifts within the right side of his hood. His sharpened hearing catches the adorable little squeaks coming from Taylon’s bat form as he moves around on Daryl’s right shoulder. Telling Daryl in a high pitched, whispered squeak that he is tired, and just wants to cuddle him. The hunter steps with a bit more care while feeling the minor weight move around.
When it stills, Daryl reaches his fingers in and strokes the little bat all curled up and pressing into the side of the hunter’s neck. He feels the tiny animal move slightly after the lengthy stillness, and a little wet nose nudges his finger before a fresh round of squeaks hits his ear - Tay telling Daryl how wonderful he is.
Paws smaller than his fingertips curl around Daryl ring finger, so he leaves it there to be held and takes his middle finger to slowly rub along the top of Taylon’s head. More precious little squeaks hit his ear but as he glances around, he notices nobody else is looking. Almost like nobody else hears the high pitched little cries.
‘Cause they don’t. He realizes his living family is immune to those tiny noises. Not just in understanding them, but seemingly noticing that frequency at all.
It is Daryl’s hearing that has improved.
His fingers eventually close around the creature’s back, cupping him and acting almost as a blanket. When Taylon snuggles down quiet at last, Daryl pets his little bat body until he stills save for shifts from him breathing. Then Daryl simply walks along while regarding the tiny, barely noticeable weight.
Around the afternoon Taylon reappears and offers to switch places with him. He opens up his own cloak, though he has to stand on tiptoe to really cover Daryl, which makes the offer all the sweeter and more enticing. After a shrug, Daryl transforms and flits into his lover’s hood. He finds where Tay’s shoulder meets his neck and stretches out. Like he is copying Daryl’s actions, too, Taylon’s fingers curl around Daryl’s less nuzzling body. His lover’s soft hand cups Daryl’s entire bat body.
It is not just comfortable - it makes him feel spoiled to get an afternoon nap.
They stop in the early evening by a bastion of roadside Americana - a small diner across from a gas station, with a tiny six room motel right alongside it. No amenities, but it has rooms with beds so the vampires likely stopped there for the humans' comfort.
“Tomorrow if we make especially swift time, or press on into the evening, we will reach Alexandria.” Malifus is overheard telling Rick as Daryl eyes up the various people splitting away from the group to check out the hotel. Some even look a little relaxed and in good humor while talking about who is sleeping in whose room as they split the six rooms between them. It feels like Terminus was a lifetime ago.
“We can get up real early.” Rick offers, looking a bit more eager at the mention of the sanctuary that they are gunning it towards.
Then a voice shouts from across the street as the diner’s door is thrown open. “There is still a pilot light in the stove!” Bijou calls out jovially. “And mix and syrup - I’m making pancakes!”
“We can find eggs if there are nests close by.” Adelaide suggests while passing her husband. “Taylon, come give me a hand.” Then her eyes alight onto him as Daryl finds himself awkwardly stuck between where to go next - to lay claim to a room, or follow Taylon. “Daryl, I think you would do best going three quarters of a mile into the woods in that direction. Some protein would work well.”
Although he raises a brow at the suggestion, Daryl lifts his nose and takes a whiff of the air. He smells that slight hint of fur and venison. When we went huntin’, Adelaide could smell deer and track ‘em… That’s what she wants me doin’.
Taylon follows after Adelaide, leaving Daryl to his own task, which he finds rather suits him. It does not bother him, since it is exactly what he would be doing most days - feeing the group by hunting. Except it is less of a guessing game now. As he begins to move through the woods he speeds up a little. As he zips faster, the limbs of trees do not blur together and he does not miss a root and trip over it. He reaches a speed that his human body would have been stumbling at, before baring his fangs in a mock grin as he smoothly moves along.
The deer smells strong this close and Daryl can even tell its direction simply by turning his head since its heartbeat is pulsating in his ear. He smells earth and dirt under hooves. Bugs and flecks of dirt in fur. He can even smell the salt of its flesh.
It takes next to no time at all to spot the deer up ahead. As he lunges forward, the deer’s heartbeat grows more frantic. Those panicked final moments rush through him as the creature tries to flee but Daryl is astonishingly fast. The deer springs, but Daryl rushes.
As his fingers grip the soft brown pelt harshly, he drops his head and brings his elongated fangs down to the deer’s neck. The raging urge strikes to stop that incessant heartbeat roaring like an ancient war drum, and he sinks those fangs into the struggling body. The comforting satisfaction lasts a split second, as his reeling mind realizes this is meant to be for everyone - for the living.
In a rush, he yanks his fangs off and wrenches his fingers tight enough to break flesh. They keep pulling as Daryl growls, a roar ripping out of his throat as sinew begins to break. Blood spurts and flesh tears, with the scent of raw unabashed carnage hitting his nostrils. A terrible ripping of flesh is heard. Daryl keeps pulling both arms apart, rending the head off the deer. A bit of spinal column is the last to pull loose, hanging like a sick spaghetti.
Daryl sinks his fangs into the cheek of the deer once the head is loose, now certain he would not contaminate the rest. He growls into the empty forest as he drinks, holding one of the deer's soft ears. He greedily lifts his jaw once done and shifts to let himself drink from its throat, while not thinking too hard on how violent he had just gotten. It needed to be done.
Unlike with Adelaide that first time, as a human, now it is... invigorating to hunt that way.
Daryl walks back a little blood coated, but there will be deer meat to go around. What else matters?
When Daryl returns, everyone is in the little diner. Someone had gotten a basement generator running and shut all the blinds so the vampires could walk around uncloaked. It is a little bizarre for Daryl to walk into the artificially lit place and spot Maggie, Glenn, and Carol at one table, right beside another with the Grimes’ family plus Michonne.
They look to him, most expressions questioning the blood on his front, but Daryl walks the headless deer carcass on his shoulder right into the back. He only stops at the kitchen. Daryl lays it on a table and asks Malifus if he has it from there, earning a nod in response and a 'well done.'
Then Daryl heads to the bathroom, ignoring how strange it feels being in a diner setting with everyone. Humans in booths, and vampires in the kitchen. The lights are on and there are little salt and pepper shakers in each booth, like the world is not over. Maybe in some ways, it is not. Just different. A hell of a lot different.
His lover falls into step beside him, joining Daryl in the bathroom to get cleaned up. They both pause to lick at the deer blood with pleased stares at one another; Daryl licks his own hand before catching Taylon swiping a finger full. He especially likes when Tay laps at his throat, coming away red-lipped. Then they break apart.
“You made a mess of yourself.” Taylon teases him cheekily, taking a wad of toilet paper in hand that he pads gently at Daryl with. Although Daryl walked in with the intention of cleaning himself, he finds he only has to hold still and let his mate do it. It is kind of nice to be cared for.
“Kinda got my blood pumpin’ t’ hunt like that.” Daryl admits it is different, and has stirred his senses in a feral kind of way to run through the woods and launch himself at his prey like a wild dog.
“I have never been a very good hunter.” Taylon admits, which surprises him. Daryl had thought it was all vampiric instinct. He never thought any of it was his mortal skillset transferring over. “I am not surprised you are.”
“No?” Daryl is not surprised either though, not when he thinks on it. Of course he would thrive in this, while Tay is too delicate for it. He thinks direction is obvious already, but if he can learn to break down distance like Adelaide then he will be able to keep his group very well fed. He is not sure how well stocked Alexandria is, but it will not matter with a skill like that. Even if it means his crossbow is obsolete, it still rests on his back.
“No.” Taylon pats the blood off him with gentle motions, eyes lowered. He reaches for a fresh wad of toilet paper and continues his gentle ministrations. His lover has different sorts of talents.
“Do ya sew?” Daryl asks out of the blue while thinking that he will be alright tonight, but this shirt is not long for this world. That brings his vest to mind - he is going through clothes like they are nothing.
“Yes.”
“Can I give ya somethin’ to sew onto maybe a cloak?” Daryl thinks that is more likely to survive, especially if he can find a sturdier one than mere cotton.
“Of course.”
Daryl leans forward to press a kiss to Taylon’s temple. He has not known what to do with the angel wings on his vest, outside of keeping them. It got too ripped apart to be put back together as it was. Plus, he feels that need for a better cover for him during the day. Something larger and longer feels appropriate. It will be nice if a garment can bear his wings again.
Taylon smiles up at him after the hunter pulls back from the kiss. Then he playfully taps the toilet paper against Daryl’s collarbone. “There was a time when everyone knew how to darn a sock or sew on a button.” He comments with a raised brow, “None of this going to the store and buying a new garment nonsense.”
Daryl’s lips quirk as Taylon actually sounds his age for once, except it comes out oddly adorable in a twenty-seven year old's voice. “That righ’?”
“I finished every evening fixing whatever had happened to my clothes that day, and started every day with a shoeshine.”
Daryl’s lips part a little further. “Uh-huh.” Tay sounds obstinately cute and it brings on a flare of artificial heat, almost like a memory of warmth.
With a streak of honest correction, Taylon amends himself. “Actually, I truly finished the very end of my days with a cup of tea.” Then he gains that rosy gray to his cheeks, voice softening when he admits, “Your blood.. tastes like my favorite strawberry tea.” His fingertips caress lightly over Daryl’s skin. “We would make it with the leaves and berries both, and only alpine strawberries.”
Much sweeter. Very fitting for his lover indeed.
“Yers tastes like strawberry ice cream. My favorite dessert.” Daryl admits while finding it a cozy coincidence that they both get the flavor of strawberry off each other. He is almost certain that it is not something blood tastes like, it is just the pair of them. Something they both loved in life, and get to keep loving within each other. He wonders if after circulating their blood by drinking it from each other, if maybe it just all tastes strawberry flavored.
“Oh.” Tay murmurs in awe, clearly seeing the romance of the more-than-coincidence.
Daryl wraps his arms around Tay’s waist to draw him close, no longer giving a damn about any streaks remaining on his shirt.
Tay seems to forget all about them, too. He drops the final wad of toilet paper and slides his arms around Daryl’s neck as the hunter leans in to kiss him. His lips part eagerly as Daryl pushes his tongue past Tay’s lips, feeling a greedy need to taste his mate at that reminder that they fit each other in such a strangely perfect way.
Then Daryl pulls back, pressing his forehead against the top of Taylon’s blond head in a huff. “If we start, we won’t stop.” Everyone else is right outside.
“And that is.. bad because..?” Tay’s heated voice tries to understand the problem, making Daryl bite the inside of his own cheek to keep control of himself.
“We better go back out t’ everyone else.” Daryl mutters, shaking his head. “Can’t get stuck in here fer hours.”
“But… when everyone is asleep?” Taylon asks hopefully while not lifting his nervous gaze any higher.
“We’ll find sumwhere later.” Daryl promises, fingers tipping his lover’s chin to get Tay’s lovesick eyes to meet his own. He can tell Taylon is thinking about being fucked from the heat in his stare. If Daryl had not stopped them, Tay would have done anything he wanted there in that diner bathroom.
They had slept for a while on one another in bat form today, and he is really not that tired from the long walk. Not like his human self ought to be. So Daryl proposes, “We take turns sleepin’ durin’ the day, an’ fuck all night?” When Taylon nods, looking wide eyed and excited at the prospect, Daryl lets his thumb run over his lover’s lips. How the hell does all night still not feel like enough?
Knowing they will start something if they linger, Daryl releases him and pulls away. He holds the door open, waiting for Taylon who does delay. When they walk back into the diner proper, the group is being served plates of food by Adelaide, while Bijou is still flipping pancakes - Literally flipping them up into the air with gleeful delight. The deer’s remains are only a memory and a bloody puddle on a stainless steel table. Now, it is venison steak and cuts that rest on plates. Fresh as could be.
Honestly, he is slightly jealous. He misses the flavor of venison, although it had been present in the blood of the deer when he ripped into it, that is nothing like flesh beneath your teeth. Nothing like a savory, well cooked steak.
Still, he slips an arm around Taylon and walks over to an unoccupied booth. Instead of climbing in across from him, Tay sits right beside him. Daryl scoots further in once he realizes his lover is coming, ending up against the wall. Tay rests his head on Daryl’s shoulder, snuggling in, and all of a sudden he does not really mind where he is.
Everything is nice and cozy for a few minutes.
People fill their bellies around him with breakfast for dinner. Utensils scrape lightly against plates. Everything feels startlingly normal under artificial lights, split into little groups at clean tables, with cushioned seating. Adelaide even goes around offering seconds.
“Are we having fun yet, as you Americans say?” Bijou says after a few peaceful minutes had gone by, plopping down into the booth across from the pair of them. It irks Daryl to have her at their table.
“Bijou!” Taylon says, clearly far happier about her presence. He sits up a little, though his hand stays on Daryl’s shoulder and the hunter keeps his around Taylon’s waist.
“I guess there is no point in asking what today’s name is?” Bijou teases Tay with a bubbly, excited grin. Her forearms are on the table, leaning forward as she regards Taylon more than Daryl.
“No.” Taylon answers happily with a widening smile as they share a giggle.
Although Tay was instantly pleased, Daryl knows he has never been on Bijou’s good side. His stare is far more wary. A moment later, he knows he was right to be hesitant.
“You better be treating him right.” Bijou prods in Daryl’s direction with a single digit. He grunts at her once. “Otherwise I won’t give you the present I got you two.”
“A present, Bijou?” Taylon asks with instant intrigue.
“Oui, mon ami .” She nods to Tay before turning a crisper stare onto Daryl. “A well overdue one - a bit like you.” Bijou teases Daryl, making him harden his stare on her further.
“Bijou…” Tay says warningly, only to get waved off by her and sigh. He does not look overly bothered though, and it all melts away as Bijou takes a satin pillow out of her bag, setting it on the table. Dark blue with a sheen, and soft looking, the pillow is a little fancy, but it is small. Definitely just enough to even really lay a head on at night, without any tossing or turning. Daryl does not understand why Taylon looks at it all enamored.
“I went searching for something nice for you, then found this!” She leans in with a conspiratorial, heated stare that Daryl instantly does not like. “And I can keep it in my bag for you two during the day,” Bijou says with rich satisfaction, grinning boisterously.
“I love that - thank you, Bijou.” Taylon is quick to slide out of their booth and wrap his arms around her, joining his friend in a childish giggle that Daryl does not understand.
How is keeping it a gift fer us, if it stays in her bag?
Daryl says nothing at first. He waits for Bijou to skip off and Taylon to return to their side of the booth, before asking Taylon what the hell that was about. Instead of an immediate answer he gets a muddled stare in return before the clouds clear. “It is for us in bat form - during the day…” He waits but Daryl keeps staring in confusion. Then Tay gives a shy but savored, knowing look to still-confused Daryl, “So that during travel you and I can retreat on it to cuddle, nap, and.. you know.”
Fuck.
“Feels… weird.” Daryl is not sure what Bijou would hear exactly, but he suspects it is not nothing. If they had sex in bat form, right in her backpack, surely she would know about it.
“Does it?”
“Her hearing us. Anyone might.” Daryl murmurs quietly, not even wanting to be overheard on the subject. Sex is a private thing.
“Oh.”
Oh? Daryl then realizes that aside from a shy hint here or there, Taylon has not shied away from certain mentions of it. Tay will not say the word ‘sex’ but he looks unbothered now. Daryl frowns and then eyes his lover questioningly. “That doesn’ bother ya?” Daryl questions whether Bijou’s presence would be a problem for his lover.
“Well, it is only a small chance to be overheard, and I have seen everyone else in my group engage in.. that act - in both forms.” Tay flummoxes Daryl by admitting he has been right there for it, while failing to say the goddamn word itself. “It has been many decades.” He shrugs a little, as if that explains it. Maybe it sort of does, because over time you run into all sorts of shit when you live on top of other people - he learned that at the prison - but the varying levels of shyness, openness, and pure lust are throwing Daryl for a loop. Tay then adds, “Mating need not be terribly private in bat form. It would not bother me at all for us to make love right here as bats.”
Daryl is silent. His mate admitting he would gladly get fucked by Daryl in front of their groups is stunning news. Even if as bats, still. Holy shit. He would have thought Taylon would be more private about romance with that shyness in him. Instead, Tay is… offering to fuck him right here on a tabletop, and not like he is hungry for it. All casual. Just like it is normal, or at least not so abnormal to merit any huge reaction. It stands out sharply to Daryl.
“And as people?” Daryl questions not because he has interest in doing anything so outlandish, but because he needs to know what the heck is going on in Taylon’s head.
“Well… It depends what we would be seen doing.” Taylon answers quietly while glancing up from his snuggled in spot against Daryl’s side. "Although, if you really wanted something..."
Daryl glances around to confirm nobody is near enough to listen, nor seems to be. “What would ya wanna be seen doin'?” Daryl cannot help but ask in a whisper as the vampiric sense of shame is a fascinating dual edged blade. He could say something sweet and get Tay turning grey, so it floors him that exhibitionism is suddenly firmly on the table.
“In the heat of the moment, when you are thrusting inside me.” Taylon's response is surprisingly quick and seems to need no thought.
“That?” Daryl asks in deepening shock, expecting the opposite. He expected his lover to think it over more, too.
“Yes.”
Even if he does not want to, the fact he can is illuminating. “Us fuckin’ in front of everyone.. sure?”
“Yes.” Taylon nods again before biting his lower lip. “Have I… offended you?”
“Jus’ really… really makin’ me think.” Daryl answers softly, a little blown away. “So, what wouldn’t you want ‘em t’ see?”
“The before and after.”
“Huh.” Daryl wants a fucking cigarette right now, goddamn. He tries to wrap his mind around it sober though. Fine mid-thrust, but not the rest of it. The lovey-dovey type stuff. Kisses beforehand. Gettin’ tied, bitten, an’ licked…
So, the animalistic side that everyone has, Taylon would happily show; That thrusting need that they all share. Being filled and fucked, that is fine.
But their growing, blushing relationship with needy kisses, exploring touches, and eagerness to please is just for them. The pieces that make it their own, are for them alone in Tay’s eyes. Strangely sweet and private, almost shy.
Weirdly romantic sort of, but mostly bizarrely arousing to know his partner has no problem being spread and filled in front of everyone that knows him. Strange as hell to know Tay will blush over saying the word ‘sex,’ but not the act put on display.
Fuck, I don’t care if it’s a vampire thang or whatever the fuck time brings. Tay is the dirtiest kind of filthy!
It makes no sense how a person can retain such a sense of innocence while being downright naughty and pervy, but Tay somehow manages it and, fuck, that turns Daryl on while being confusing as hell.
“So, we very well could tomorrow, if you would like.” Taylon does not say what but Daryl knows he means have sex all day long in Bijou’s bag, fucking as bats on a satin pillow. “It is very nice of Bijou to do for us.” Tay comments happily on their satin pillow gift, before lifting apologetic, lavender ringed eyes. “I know she has been sassy to you, but she will calm.”
Obviously he sees that Bijou is protective of Tay, who Daryl does think is a bit on the soft side. He may dislike her, but at least Daryl understands where she is coming from now. She is still annoying, but almost tolerable now.
“Maybe.” Daryl will decide later, knowing already as he hugs Taylon against him that once the mortals are asleep they will still start screwing around. Not right out in front of them, which Daryl knows he is going to be thinking about an awful lot tonight, but in some secluded spot. Somewhere quiet. They are both too hungry for one another not to.
Notes:
No reveal from Bijou or any sign of Merle yet, but holy fuck Tay... really? Just wanting to get railed by Daryl in front of everyone, no big deal here...
Chapter 20: Times They Are A-Changin'
Notes:
Fucking with Aaron for literally the pure fun of it.
"The line, it is drawn, the curse, it is cast
The slow one now will later be fast
As the present now will later be past
The order is rapidly fadin'
And the first one now will later be last
For the times, they are a-changin'"
- Bob Dylan, The Times They Are A-Changin’
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Even a full night of passion is not enough.
They are up on top of a high kitchen cabinet, right near the ceiling, when everyone starts to trickle outside. The kitchen had been quiet all that time, save for the quiet squeaks and the slap of leathery flesh. It is not until Bijou pops her head in and calls out to them to ‘Come along’ that Daryl even realizes it is daylight again. The night passed in a flash.
After a rushed cleaning of his lover with his bat tongue, Daryl flies down and transforms into his usual form. He reaches for his and Taylon’s discarded cloaks before looking down curiously at them. The blue satin pillow comes to mind.
The kitchen door opens, with Bijou popping her head in as Taylon transforms, landing a little shakily on his feet. Daryl is sure, and proud, that his lover’s knees are weak. “You two coming?” She asks in a giggly voice.
Daryl merely grunts in return.
Bijou slides her bag off her shoulder and pops the top. Inside is the pillow. “Want a ride?” Then she looks beyond Daryl, to Tay. Her words surprise Daryl by not being teasing or playful, simply direct. “You deserve it.”
She ain’t tryin’ to be perverse. Bijou really cares for him. Knows he waited. Saw him wantin’ to be loved. And… Daryl bites his lower lip as he would rather like to get to keep going, too. To keep pounding Taylon’s tight little, cum filled bat body. He knows his lover aches for him too, so without needing to ask Daryl transforms back into his bat form and zips into the Frenchwoman’s bag.
Fuck his doubts, he decides.
Death has a certain freeing sensation when it comes to decisions. They come more easily to him and he finds himself caring a little less. The pillow feels like a dream to have caressing his entire form once he lands on it. He takes in an unneeded breath just to feel the rise and fall of his chest.
The fabric catches his attention but Daryl looks over as Tay’s tricolor bat form lands beside him. A little cheep is given from Taylon in thanks right before Bijou closes the flap, securing it with a couple of snaps. No light is sneaking in.
Taylon stretches out and paws around on the pillow too, getting a feel for the lush fabric. Daryl is more interested in the space itself, so he tries to stand and finds the top is just too high to touch the tips of his pointed, leathery ears.
Plenty of room to move, stretch, or flip one another around. A nice comfortable, soft floor. Cozily dark. Good.
Damn good.
Once the jostling stops, Daryl supposes Bijou has them on her back and has fallen into step. Then he hears his name, realizing Rick gives a holler for him. Instead, Bijou answers. “It’s fine, I have the pair of them. Carry on.”
Daryl flutters his wings, finding his wingspan is too great to manage a full stretch out. However, that is his only complaint. Not a big one, either. He wishes Bijou had not said anything about them, but then again of course Rick would look for him. Still, nobody knows exactly what they are doing and other vampires slept during the day as bats.
His spreading wings had grazed Taylon accidentally moments ago, but now they seek him out to flutter against him. Catching the hint, Tay shifts over to him. Daryl starts to nuzzle his maw into the soft fur of his lover’s head before working down his back as they press close together. Once Daryl rises back to full height, Tay tucks himself under Daryl’s chin and coos.
Spending all day like this… It is so worth whatever the hell Bijou might hear.
Daryl’s toes curl into the satin as he feels Taylon shifting down into a mating position minutes later. His lover’s backside presses up invitingly, barely brushing. He cannot help but flick his tongue across his lover’s fur, aroused but also markedly happy. He takes in the woodsy scent of his lover, feeling it is all the stronger after their time trekking under and over the trees together.
His wings stretch slightly, scooting further to press right up against Taylon’s backside. Knowing he is sliding into the already wet tightness, he does not hesitate to thrust in. The slight squeak he gets from Tay is sharp, but one of strained pleasure.
It is sinful how perfect that slick cavern is. Too tight, but ready all the same. Daryl’s breath shudders as he pushes himself all the way in, feeling that initial fight from his lover’s vice-gripping inner walls. They really do always feel so damn tight that he does not doubt Taylon was right about his body staying virginal.
His back arches, knowing Tay’s feet are clinging to the satin floor as he pushes back to make sure not a millimeter is lost between them. Once they are both locked together, Daryl gets his rapid humping going and for a time everything is heaven in the dark peace of Bijou’s backpack. Her gait must be steady, for it hardly feels like they are travelling. Not until later, when Daryl has been thrusting steadily for some time.
“What did you mean, you have them?” Daryl overhears Carol’s voice asking.
“They are in my backpack. I think that is enough said, oui? ” Bijou answers amusedly.
“How cute.” Daryl overhears Carol say, bringing a scowl out of him. If he were not balls deep in Taylon he might start getting annoyed. Instead, he just keeps thrusting, bending down and sinking his fangs into his lover’s neck.
We ain’t cute. Just Tay.
Hours bleed together so pleasantly whenever they have sex in bat form. Instinct overwhelms Daryl in a way he likes, guiding him so that he seems to lose his whole sense of self and ego. At times they rest motionless in a heap together, or Daryl licks or noses at his fluffy and leathery lover, and at others Daryl gets going with such fervor he can hear the slap of his balls swinging into Tay’s backside while he thrusts.
Then seemingly out of the blue, Bijou taps her bag and announces the nearing end of the road to them, but she does not rush them out, which is lucky for them. They can finish.
Daryl had not expected to like their little hideaway as much as he had, but the day had been blissful. Just the two of them shifting in the dark together, moving to achieve bliss over and over together. Mostly Daryl, though Taylon came to life more between sessions; His nuzzling under Daryl’s chin gets the hunter as near to purring as he thinks a bat can get as they finish up in a cuddle.
“We are nearly in sight of Alexandria, you two.” Bijou reminds them, drawing Daryl’s attention.
He licks Taylon clean, well, semi-clean. That tricolor bat rump is left fairly untouched inside, save for Daryl to check that Taylon is wetter than ever. For some reason letting his tongue wander never bothers him in bat form. Thinking of it after the fact, well…
When he crawls out of the bag a minute later it becomes immediately clear from the darkness that it is nighttime. Feeling safer without the threat of sunlight, Daryl flutters out and transforms back into his usual self. Taylon joins him a second later. They both fall easily into step with the others.
Bijou flashes the pair a slight, knowing smile, but her relative silence surprises Daryl. No cocky, cheeky little remark about their sex life. He thinks it must be for Taylon’s sensitivities but then, after the conversation in the diner, he does wonder.
Daryl bites his lip and looks ahead, wanting to see the city. “Wanna speed up?” He asks his lover if he would join him in moving towards the front of the group.
“We could fly ahead.” Taylon suggests after watching his face, making Daryl think he must look curious.
So he nods. He catches Carol glancing back just before he turns to his bat form, though once transformed he hardly notices slight details like faces. He and Taylon are too busy flying higher than the group, quickly gaining ground on those down below.
He flaps steadily, following after Taylon, until he spots metal sheeting rising high into the sky from down below. They flutter together as if treading water as Daryl stares. There are streets of houses that look normal. No dilapidated buildings. No half rusted signs. No broken down cars in the middle of their streets. Safer and cleaner than most places. Light comes from an awful lot of the windows - electricity.
They come back down near the high gate when their groups approach it. A couple of humans open it but one fit, pale, fanged bastard is among them. Daryl catches Malifus telling him a time for a meeting. Definitely one of theirs.
An older human woman with blond hair and a no nonsense attitude approaches to greet them, introducing herself as Deanna. She tells them there is a house ready for them to use tonight, then tomorrow when it is light they can see the place a bit better.
In minutes it becomes clear that the humans are being taken by Deanna to the house to eat and sleep, while the vampires are going off to their own abode. The need to guard the humans so fiercely seems gone now that they are in the sanctuary. Mission accomplished, it would seem.
Even if Taylon assured him it was safe and his fly over had looked fine, Daryl still wants to be close to his people this first night. He can almost smell the anxiety coming off them.
“What are you thinking?” Taylon inquires gently while turning to Daryl.
“I should stay with ‘em. Fer tonight.”
“That’s alright - I understand.” Taylon leans in and Daryl comes down to meet him for a chaste kiss. “We have plenty of time, my love.”
Whereas his friends are mortal. They are limited and doomed to decay. Little bit dreary to think on, but he appreciates that Taylon does not mind this first night apart. Before he turns to rejoin his fellows, Taylon hesitates, “May I come back to bring you blood?”
“Yeah.” Daryl agrees to that, figuring he could use a drink. Better to not be hungry around his people for a full night, too. Nice 'a Tay t' think of me...
Tay throws him a loving stare before transforming and flying away. He can tell from afar which home is theirs - a large multi-story with all the blinds closed several streets over.
Still, Daryl ignores that and follows his group into the house Deanna has given them for the night. He needs to make sure they will truly be safe here before Daryl can even think of breaking away, if he thinks of it at all.
Although anxious, they settle into the home uneventfully. There are some proper bedrooms upstairs but they all spread out in the living room on the floor, just in case. Even with the vampires’ assurances, they are among other people now. The prison, Terminus, and everything in between have shown them exactly how people can be, so it is better to be cautious.
Still, they eat their fill of food brought to them by a couple of Alexandrians. Some of them clean up in the surprisingly functional bathroom. Though, when one Alexandrian approaches with a box while reeking of wet dog, Daryl sits straight up. His gaze pivots to the front door, where a dark brown haired man is passing Rick a box of toiletries.
That man smells like the night Daryl died, and the reason hits him like a freight train.
Daryl leaps to his feet and strides across the room, fangs bared and hissing as he knows that man is dangerous. He inserts himself between the stranger and Rick, who looks surprised by the sudden hissing, protective streak.
“Whoa, whoa! It’s alright.” The man shouts to him as Daryl comes forward with wild eyes and his proverbial guns blazing.
“Werewolf!” Daryl snarls at him accusingly.
“Yeah?” The Alexandrian asks in stark confusion while throwing his hands up innocently, palms open.
“It’s true - Aaron is a lone wolf though.” The human woman beside Aaron explains, frowning as she holds a box of blankets for them. “He’s part of our community.”
Daryl eases back slightly. “The vampires know?” The woman nods and he tries to put his fangs away but they cannot help remain out in a slight sneer. Of course if he could smell it, they could. Still, fuck those dogged bastards, the lot of them!
“Yes. It’s a personal truce.” Aaron explains while eyeing Daryl with uncertainty. He stinks of an unwashed, wet dog and it makes Daryl want to throw him outside.
“You’re a werewolf?” Rick asks in shock. The only real tell is a long scar running along Aaron’s cheek. Yet given how dangerous the world is, people are all sorts of banged up these days.
“Not a bad one.” Aaron is quick to interject yet he keeps the bite out of his words. There is only a sincere but dogged persistence.
“Fuckin’ dog!” Daryl growls out in doubt. He might be willing to wait to go after him, but those furry fuckers are the real reason he ran off that cliff. They caused him to die that night, but that was a pack. Not a lone wolf, and not Aaron, but his rage still simmers as he tries to focus on the logical side of it - Aaron is not responsible. It was not him.
Yet that smell is driving Daryl to want to drink. Fuck, won't even be able to....
Luckily his lover appears in the open doorway a second later and he does not panic at seeing the werewolf. Daryl knows if he can smell the mutt then so can Tay. He is still grouchy in spite of the lack of a reaction.
“My love!” Taylon hastens to his side, eyes blown wide and cheeks gray-flustered. There is a flask in his hand but he pays it no mind since Tay is a little frantic. “I told your name to one of our clan and they had to come. He says he is your -”
Taylon and Daryl look over as another bat flits into the room before transforming to a human form; A beefy, semi-muscular man with precious little hair, a bit of a gut, and a scowl that Daryl knows well. Daryl bets a handful of jaws in the room drop because his sure as hell does - the man is pale and fanged. Undead, but not a walker.
There stands his brother, Merle Dixon.
Notes:
Not to sound like a beggar, but comments would truly make my day (especially today 'cause I really gotta write more so the motivation is always appreciated!)
We got Merle back!! Fuck yeah! Brotherly convo next chapter that makes me want to prance like a show pony. BISEXUAL VAMPIRE MERLE!!!!
Chapter 21: Ties That Bind
Notes:
Giddy up for the two chapters of the Merle express!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Hell, little brother!” Merle shouts in surprise, the southern twang familiar yet shocking. Daryl cannot believe he knows that boisterous voice and the man they owns it.
Merle reaches out to clasp Daryl’s right shoulder as he lunges forward and cuts the distance between them. Daryl is left standing there stock still as he simply stares for a second.
He had thought for sure that Merle was dead.
When last he knew, Merle had tried to not let the Governor get an advantage over them. He had decided to free Michonne and do the right thing. Then, Merle disappeared. All Daryl found while looking was a gorey barn full of walkers. No sign of Merle. The assumption was a walker bite on the way out due to the sheer volume of the biters in the area, but Daryl never saw anything to prove it conclusively.
That was months ago, and way back in Georgia.
Honestly, Daryl had thought Merle was dead for some time now. When there was no sign of him after the Governor it seemed like the obvious conclusion. Finding him here is like sticking a fork in a socket.
Yet here Merle is - undead but looking well enough. He is a far paler son of a bitch now, and as Daryl stares at him he recognizes a darkening to Merle’s eyes similar to his own. No longer brown, but near black. No nice colorful ring or anything like what Daryl has though, just one solid color. Merle’s lips even have a pale, blueish hint to them. Unlike Daryl’s improved abs, physically Merle looks much unchanged. Even that bit of gut from too many daily beers remains.
The only real change is that back in Georgia, Daryl had found Merle’s arm attachment amid the bloody mess of the walkers in the barn. That had been his primary reason to assume Merle was long dead. Yet now, that piece has been replaced with a sheathed blade on a titanium base.
“Well damn!” Merle is half smirking while raking his dark stare over him, like he is checking that Daryl is still in one piece. It is then that Daryl remembers Taylon telling him they had a vampire named Merle in their group; A surly enforcer. It never came to mind that it could be his brother though.
“Merle?” Daryl murmurs dumbly, awestruck to see him again. Neither is alive but they are still both upright and kicking. The world has yet to defeat the last pair of Dixons, even if it stole their heartbeats.
Odder still… His brother is here, and has known his soul mate for days, weeks, maybe even months. How long has Merle been a vampire? How long has he been here? How did he get out of Georgia? All of Daryl’s questions begin to pelt his mind like raindrops in a storm.
“Merle?” Rick asks in a voice that suggests the shock is not exclusive to Daryl alone.
“Officer Friendly, still alive.” Merle lets his eyes rake across the visible members of the group that linger in the living room. Some old, some new, but surely Merle can see they are all human save for Daryl. “C’mon, lil’ brother. Leave the livin’ to their games.” Merle tells Daryl, and without anything but surprise in him, Daryl follows.
They head into the front yard and Merle pulls out a pack of smokes, lighting up. Apparently his after death penchant for smoking remains just as strong as Daryl’s.
“Yer here.” Daryl states again in shock, though it is finally beginning to ebb away. The questions in his mind are growing louder to replace it, like who turned him, and when?
“Look atcha.” Merle shakes his head as they stand still and stare at one another. Merle looks so unchanged, but Daryl knows he does not. He wonders why his muscles tightened and scars dissipated when Merle looks almost the same.
It seems not even vampiric healing can mend arms either.
Daryl glances around them as it is quiet in Alexandria, where there are no distant walker moans outside. The pair of them standing here feels like being back in a too-nice neighborhood while casing houses. The memory stiffens his limbs and brings a leadenness to them as they stand there, regarding one another.
“Didja turn back with the Governor?” Daryl asks, trying to figure out when Merle turned. It is as good a place to start with as any.
“Fuckin’ mess.” Merle mutters at the recollection, sticking a cigarette in his mouth and setting the pack on a bit of fence. He slides his lone hand into his pocket for a lighter. Daryl does not bother asking, reaching over to snatch one out of the pack while it is open. Merle would not offer, and Daryl would not ask; That is how they used to do things. He spots that it makes Merle snicker. “Yeah, the bastard.” Merle begins once his cigarette is lit and the first few puffs have been taken.
“What happened?” Daryl presses curiously while eyeing the area. The street is quiet and peaceful to stand out in, which still unsettles him.
“Governor shit the bed.” He growls. “Tried to turn me out fer helpin’ ya. Jus’ lost it all.” Merle’s words are sour and still riddled with the venomous anger of a man betrayed.
“Malifus find ya then, an’ turn ya?” Daryl guesses, figuring that if this group is involved then it would have been their leader’s call. He had gotten the sense that Taylon turning him was an anomaly.
“Nah.” Merle snickers more openly. “This idiot, Claude.”
Huh. Daryl is surprised that it was not this little group here. By the sound of it, Merle had his own adventures before finding Alexandria.
Merle waves with his cigarette in hand. “S’pposed to have been investigatin’ the Governor, but turns out, Claude was high on drug blood all the time. When the Governor thought he had me finished, I tricked Claude.” There is that egotistical, proud shine to his brother’s morosely pale stare that Daryl remembers well. “Made him think I was offerin’ him my blood and took his, hah. When another group found him, they killed his incompetent, chicken-shit ass and asked if I wanted to join the division. Got reassigned here in Alexandria last month.” Merle shifts his cigarette between his lips as they quirk upright in a mock smile. “Gettin’ paid to live in a cushy place just to walk a town a couple times, fight a few weak fuckers? Shit.”
So Merle had not been turned willingly, but he is here all the same. Enjoying the gig. Strangely it seems exactly right for his brother. A definite far cry to the romantic turning that Daryl had, but doing so with trickery feels very Merle Dixon.
“Gonna tell me what got ya?” Merle asks while giving him a firm stare, expecting this to be tit for tat.
“Werewolves chasin’ me. Ended up goin’ off a cliff.” Daryl states his death quicker and with far fewer details. It still brings a certain fresh horror to think of it. That branch running him through is such a visceral memory that he pushes the burning sensation from his mind.
“Hard luck.” Merle shakes his head and Daryl swears it is as close as a commiseration as he will get out of Merle. It kind of touches him a smidgeon.
“S’alright.” Daryl truly does not mind in the end since in his eyes he has traded one life for another.
That semi-calm fades fast as Merle’s eyes alight on him with a savoring sort of smugness. “Been palin’ around with yer lil’ cumrag there.” He rolls the cigarette to the other side of his lips, letting it hang there for a second. “Think I didn’ smell ya all over him?” His voice rests on the edge of cruelty, lips parting slightly in a sneer.
Daryl goes silent as fresh shock hits his already shaken mind. Merle knows all about Taylon and him?
No easing Merle into Daryl’s sexuality, it seems. His father’s views on homosexuality had been bluntly, bruisingly clear. Growing up, Merle was only a step behind their daddy in his beliefs, and Daryl had just tried to shut his mouth whenever it came up. Back then, Daryl had tried to ignore his own thoughts about men, so it never became an issue.
How does he know?! Then it hits Daryl. Smell. Cumrag.
“You smell.. that?” Daryl quietly questions as his mouth tightens, turning parched.
“Every pale sum bitch without a pulse, and probably the neighborhood mutt, smells it.” Merle states with such amused confidence that it floors him, “From virgin to lil’ cumrag.”
The instant crest of shock bends and folds like the prison fence under the weight of a hundred walkers. He never thought their bonding would cause any kind of scent change, and he certainly has not noticed anything. Except…
Filling Taylon’s ass and leaving it that way.
Daryl thinks about how much sharper his eyesight is and how he can hear the squeaks Tay makes in bat form. He could smell the walkers well before they came in sight of the herd. His undead senses are sharper.
Every other undead’s senses must be, too.
Fuck, every vampire has known they have been more depraved than the norm and just said nothing! Not even Bijou had poked fun at them for it - that is the most surprising for him of all. Daryl cannot wrap his mind around that.
Merle though, he sneers.
“An’ if he’s lettin’ you fuck him, that means yer the one he been waitin’ for. Ain’t that some shit?” Merle asks lowly, enjoying the mockery of his little brother with all the joy a child would have for a tasty ice cream.
“You saw him waitin’?” Daryl asks sullenly. His brother has had time to get to know his lover and it is a different kind of startling. It hits him then that Merle must have even seen Taylon writing in his notebook. Merle got the chance to watch Taylon be lonely.
“Simperin’ fuckin’ pussy.” Merle remarks lowly.
Immediately, Daryl bares his fangs as his lover is disparaged. “Don’ talk about Taylon.”
“Some fuckin’ fire. ‘Bout time.” Merle snaps back and shows off his own fangs with an audible clap of his teeth. They are equally long and slightly more curvaceous than Daryl’s. Then there is a hard edge of tantalized irritation in his brother’s dark stare. “Can’t wait to hear the shit yer gonna give me.” Merle snickers with raging, knowing eyes. Worryingly, it reminds Daryl of his expression when they were young and teenage Merle had told him he had broken Daryl’s little toy firetruck. Especially painful to him as a kid, as he could have counted the number of toys he had owned on one hand.
“Fer?” Daryl asks stiltedly.
“Later.” Merle shrugs it aside for now and that alone piques his interest. His brother spat out whatever was in his head, never giving much of a damn. So if Merle is clamming up, then he knows Daryl is going to raise hell.
A part of Daryl really wants to start raising it now.
Instead, he focuses on the sharp shift in his reality while surveying his sibling. “Can’t believe yer here, an’ turned.”
“Believe it.” Merle answers with a slight nod. “So much better.”
“S’ what I think.”
Merle’s stare turns approving and he nods, as if glad they are on the same page that they have gained more than they lost. Well, that is Daryl’s view. He believes Merle did not look at it further than the immortality and strength. Maybe the ability to fly too. Daryl suspects his brother sees it as something to level the playing field in the apocalypse.
Meanwhile, he sees it as a worthwhile sacrifice to bond to Taylon and be with him permanently.
“Ain’t we got this shit figured out?” Merle then gestures over his shoulder. “Ya got fangs - whatcha still doin’ with Officer Friendly, huh?”
“Still need people.” Daryl answers without delay, not ashamed of his protective streak. It is the way he views them as family that caused him to break away from Merle way back at the prison. “Makin’ sure this place is safe.”
Instead of giving him hell for going soft, Merle’s eyes narrow curiously on him. “You just turned.” Merle states it as a fact while eyeing him up carefully. It makes Daryl wonder if it is a smell or a look that gives it away.
“Only been days.” Daryl states quietly.
Merle waits a beat of silence before sullenly remarking, “Place is safe. They’ll be fine.” Then he nods back towards the house the humans are in. “Yer boytoy brought ya blood but it ain’t the fun kind.” Like a large, petulant child he adds, “Wastin’ time t’ not come.”
When Merle walks away, Daryl is left to wonder. His sibling turns into a bat - larger and darker than his own form but he cannot tell much more than that as bat-Merle disappears down towards the shaded-windowed house.
It is tempting now that he knows Merle is here to follow after him, and his brother does not seem to be lying about it being safe here. Neither does Taylon. Yet he had told Rick he would be there. Daryl had given his word.
Rick is his brother in a different way, blood or not. So Daryl turns and heads back inside, willing to stay the entirety of the night on watch.
A small part of him had been glad that the Dixon chapter of his life had fully shut before Taylon found him. His lover is too gentle and sensitive a soul for someone like Merle Dixon. So how the hell is it that they already know one another?
How is it that Merle has joined Malifus’ division?
Seems like fate wants to slap me upside the head to yell ‘here I fucking am!’
Daryl is irked, but partly pleased. While Merle is the last presence he needs around as he turns a new page, that is still his brother. Still his blood. Hell, Merle is the last of his blood left.
Something strikes him as odd about the fact that Merle… knows.
Merle had cracked wise about Taylon, but had not berated Daryl or called him any slurs. He is shocked that his brother never called him a fag or anything of the sort.
Daryl ponders that through the night - his brother ought to have hit the roof for him being with a man. Not just fucking, but Merle even knew they had bonded souls, yet he did not give Daryl hell for it?
No, that was not like him at all.
Come morning Daryl waits for everyone to finish breakfasting to pull up his cloak and head into the street. It is a short walk to the multi-story with the shut blinds. Its small lawn is unkempt and a bit overgrown, making it stick out all the more, but otherwise it is merely a sizable house. He thinks it is large enough to turn into a mini-fortress though.
After a short knock at the front door, Daryl waits until it opens a moment later. “In, in!” A voice bids him to hurry so Daryl moves fast. Only when it shuts is the vampire who opened it visible, having hidden behind the door.
Daryl eyes the round faced figure, not sure from their androgynous build whether they are male or female. Since their hair and clothes lean female he will guess that. A mess of dirt brown hair done in two pigtails fan out from its volume, coming down above her shoulders. She is dressed skimpily with bits of upper thigh and her petite midriff showing, which makes Daryl think that is why she pulled open the door from the other side.
“Oh, you’re Merle’s brother, and Taylon’s mate! Daryl right? May I take your cloak and crossbow?” She asks in a cheerful voice that is not too girlish, making him question his assessment. Though Daryl doubts it matters. He shrugs off the offer as almond eyes stare at him welcomingly.
The new vampire gives a wide smile and gestures to an open doorway, stepping forward to lead the way. “We’re just getting ready for a movie! But first, a delivery had preceded your arrival yesterday! We have some exceptional blood. What can I get you? We have everything but pedophile - because who can get that these days!”
“What?” Daryl asks, not understanding the question in the slightest.
“Daryl!” Taylon calls out, spotting him as they come into the doorway. He rushes to Daryl’s side and hugs onto him, brightening the hunter with how happy he can now make someone just by walking through a door.
“I was about to get him a drink.” The androgynous vampire explains by his side. “What would you like?”
“Yeah…” Daryl hesitatingly says in confusion, still wondering what the hell that was about. Does that mean it is not donated, but from people who are dead? Humans that committed crimes? Would that make it taste better or worse - or is it about the morality of it?
“Shori, get him rapist.” A familiar voice states with a sneer. “Daryl always liked licorice.” Through an archway, Merle is looking over from his place in a reclining chair. He gives his sibling a little smirk. He does not get up like the two shorter vampires, instead he simply locks his smarmy stare onto Daryl.
Notes:
Sapphio - I was waiting for this reveal from Merle since you asking about them smelling it!!
Superstar69 - Good start to your Merle fix?
I find that Merle is fun in this context. Nothing like death to pull that stick out of your ass!
Also Shori is introduced, yay!!
So what did Merle mean? We shall see!!
Chapter 22: Shori?
Notes:
Cute chapter, heck of a difference with bisexual Merle.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Oh.” The androgynous vampire that must be Shori comments quietly, while seemingly realizing how green Daryl is, “Murderer and rapist is easy to come by these days. Murderer has a nice woody taste and metallic finish, while there is a licorice aftertaste to rapist.”
“Grab me a murderer, and Daryl can try mine too.” Taylon calls to his back cheerfully after a long glance during which Daryl never stepped in. The whole thing is strange and off putting.
Not that he wants to drink good people but…
And Merle is here.
Daryl eyes up his brother where he sits, turning back to Taylon and pulling him into the hallway to have as private a word as they can. It is only made slightly better to have Merle out of sight. “Taylon, I found out last night that…” How does he put it though without sounding perverse? Daryl leans in to whisper it in his lover’s ear. “Everyone can smell me on ya, back there.” The words are stiff and clunky in his mouth, working their way out of him awkwardly.
“Yes?” Tay asks him in wait, expecting more. He stares up patiently.
Daryl stares back blankly. Surely that is enough explanation. Unless…
“You knew?”
“Of course.”
“It didn’ bother ya?” Daryl asks in confusion.
It is finally Taylon’s turn to look a little perplexed. “Why would it upset me to have people I care for know I’m yours completely?”
Daryl continues to stare at him, even when Tay starts to look as if he is questioning his own words. Although he knows Taylon has complicated views of sex, this really takes the cake.
I don’ get how he doesn’t like saying the word sex, but he’d let ‘em watch or he’ll walk around smellin’ like a porn set…
Taylon had seemed so straightforward when they met but Daryl swears that man is too many layers of confusion in a casual suit. He is self contradicting but somehow it still seems to make sense; Their relationship is a long awaited source of pride for Tay.
Yet, after being a virgin for so long, he does not mind his friends, his companions - whatever you want to call this screwed up little family group - he does not mind them knowing Daryl pounds his ass like it owes him money?
Tay sets his hand gingerly on Daryl’s forearm. “Is it alright I spoke up for you?” Taylon softly asks in worry. It makes Daryl blink owlishly, having not thought him offering to get a second drink was anything but a kindness.
“Yeah.”
“You became quiet before.” Tay murmurs as if further justifying himself. It is then that Daryl realizes he is nervous about speaking for him - speaking for them like a couple. It is a small thing, but new.
“It’s good ya did.” Daryl rubs his arm gently, not minding it. He is no good at small talk and while Shori probably meant well, it confused him with the whole type of blood question. “What was that?”
“We prefer to kill the unworthy, so there is more of their blood. Most of the willing human blood is kept in large cities. It tends to be categorized by crime since it influences flavor.” Taylon explains to him, filling him in like always. That initial bump in the road feels less odd once it is explained. Then he leans forward, hands resting on Daryl’s shoulders. “Oh my love, are you glad your brother is here?”
“Sorta.”
“It is shocking too, I’m sure.” Taylon leans in to kiss the lower edge of his jaw, about as high as he can reach. Then Taylon whispers into his ear as best he can, “I am so glad you are my mate and not him - you are so much nicer… and more handsome.”
Daryl snickers a little at that, ruffling Tay’s hair and nodding. He knows that is for damn sure. “He been.. alright?”
“Surly and open with his colorful opinions, but a good enforcer.” Taylon tells him while cocking his head. “We were going to drink blood and watch movies before bed, but I can come with you.”
Colorful… good word for Merle.
“No, sounds fine.” Daryl does not want to drag him away just yet, still bearing a need to feel this place out. Plus Taylon does not need to upend his life every second Daryl is around. It might be good to see what vampires do. He swears he expected them bent over a table of maps and fortresses, plotting.
Instead, they re-enter the living space as Shori returns from a different archway with a small tray bearing large wine glasses filled with a liquid far darker than red wine. As Daryl takes his, he can see how viscous it is as it moves slowly within the glass. Blood.
A lump sticks in his throat when he finds it smells pleasant and earthy, rather than disgusting. Still, Daryl does not hurry to drink while Tay takes a sip and hums at ease, telling Daryl he can try his whenever he wants.
Meanwhile, Daryl is watching Merle rise up out of his lounging chair and take his glass, downing half of it rather quickly. “Yer gonna watch kid shit.”
“It’s called Corpse Bride and it is wonderful!” Bijou replies poutily from the couch, leg reaching out so she can lightly kick Merle in his left ass cheek as he passes by.
“Don’t spill ma drink, woman!” Merle snaps at her, barely bothering to react to Bijou blowing a raspberry his way. He does not stop, so he is not actually bothered.
The Frenchwoman pauses her cattiness to take a glass from Shori and offer an appreciative thanks in a far happier tone. Hers is the last glass on the tray, aside from Shori’s own one, which is taken before the tray drops down to their side.
Then Daryl’s eyes widen as Merle slides an arm around that model-thin waist and gives a tug. “They’ll be watchin’ somethin’ better.”
Shori looks up to throw fluttering lashes Merle’s way and follows along eagerly, hips swaying the skirt on their waist out with an extra little swish.
What the fuck?
“Oh, but Shori, you like Corpse Bride!” Bijou calls in their wake, but Shori just giggles and keeps walking.
“They are watching Black Hawk Down - Merle is not coming back.” Taylon replies while lowering himself down on the couch beside Bijou. It actually feels like an ant is trying to crawl under his skin to hear his soul mate speak of his brother that way.
“Ugh, Shori.” Bijou grumbles softly. “Lapdog.”
“Merle’s… with Shori?” Daryl asks to make sure he has this right. The hairs rise up on the back of his neck.
“Yeah. They aren’t mates or anything, just dating. but they can’t keep their hands off each other.” Bijou remarks irritably. “Shori could do so much better.”
Shori definitely could, holy hell. How the fuck was Merle going around with a vampiric bit of tail?
Yet there is something that presses on his conscience - what gender is Shori? Although Shori sports a girlish appearance (best looking chick Merle’s ever gotten by far) Daryl holds some uncertainty there. Shori has a tangible sort of androgyny in places. Daryl does not recall much chest, and that voice was at times neutral though mostly feminine.
“Is Shori a girl or a guy?” Daryl asks the only question that matters to him at the moment.
“Guy. Shori likes girls’ clothes.” Bijou is the one who answers, but Tay gives him a smile before his stare on his lover turns curious.
Fuckin’ hell, Merle!
Shori’s a guy!
It was mostly his father who gave him hell for even glancing at a boy, but Merle had called gays fags and fairies at every opportunity. Merle had made sure to put that ‘lifestyle’ down in front of Daryl because ‘it was weak.’ He would have never let Daryl get away with looking at another man, which had been one of the handful of reasons why Daryl had never explored his sexuality, and died a virgin. Yet here Merle was, with a guy.
His skin is aching like it has a sunburn as Daryl sets his bloody wine glass on a side table. He tells Taylon that he will be back, heading out the archway that Merle and Shori had gone through. Luckily between the raised volume and his keen ears it takes only seconds to head towards another hallway, where he spots a much larger living room. There are many flat sectional couches all pressed in a U-shape, surrounding a large flatscreen.
For throat rippers, it is homier than Daryl expected; Paintings dot the walls and an oriental rug rests on the ground. On one sectional is Adelaide, curled half against Malifus. He has his feet up on an ottoman, with a blanket thrown over their lower bodies. It is the most relaxed Daryl thinks he has ever seen the pair of them, although Malifus’ stare sharpens as Daryl enters. The fit bastard they had seen at the front gate sits alone, eyes returning back to the screen as soon as they saw it is only Daryl. On the last section of couch, to his chagrin, is his brother.
With Shori.
Merle is sitting normally, but the petite vampire is sitting sideways across him. Shori’s legs are draped across the redneck’s lap. His brother’s hand is on one of Shori’s knees. Their closeness is blatant, and strikes Daryl as odd since, even gender aside, Merle never actually acted sweet and romantic. Not outside of one liners to pick up chicks in bars while drunk.
“Very interesting to have the two of you.” Malifus comments quietly from his space on the couch, surely now aware of the Dixons being brothers.
Daryl simply grunts, not here for him.
From this angle, Daryl can see black shorts under Shori’s white pleated skirt. Now that he really looks, Shori has shapely, womanly legs half hidden under knee-high black socks, capped off with such a tiny waist, but the red tube top clings flatly to his front. Androgynous, but definitely has a cock under that skirt from what Bijou has said.
Merle’s a goddamn hypocrite!
After Merle eyes him with a narrowing stare, he reaches for Shori’s legs and shoves roughly. As the androgynous vampire glances over to his… lover? Whatever - Merle distangles them and rises to his feet.
Daryl turns so Merle follows after him in a cool stride and, knowing they all have good hearing, Daryl walks all the way to the front door. As far as he can get them away from the others, save for Tay and Bijou, but Daryl would rather them than the others.
“Well? Say it.” Merle snaps at him to spit it out.
“Yer fuckin’ a guy!” Daryl only lets a fraction of the exasperation he actually feels escape into his words, like always.
“Uh-huh.” Merle mutters while thumbing one of his fangs before hooking his fingers into his belt and waiting. It only riles Daryl up further that Merle is so goddamn nonchalant about it.
“After all the shit I got?” Daryl snarls in return, unable to believe that Merle is trying to shrug the whole shift in his sexuality aside. “All the shit I had to hear? ‘n’ ya called Taylon a boytoy, really?” It feels screwed and impossible that Merle could even try to poke holes in Taylon’s masculinity when Merle’s own partner is androgynous and dressed in a tube top with a skirt.
“Most of that was daddy.” Merle deflects far too easily, which only makes the rage simmer deeper inside him.
“Not all.” Daryl is insistent and almost venomous, unable to wrap his mind around his brother screwing around with another guy after the years of drought that was Daryl’s sex life, all thanks to being a Dixon that liked looking at men.
“I didn’t know.” Merle states defensively.
“Know what?” Daryl is waiting for a spark to start a fire. He expects Merle meant something about the Dixon way of thinking, but instead his brother is throwing him a sullen frown.
“Didn’ know that Shori wasn’t no girl.” Merle admits with a scowl, shocking the younger hunter. “Jus’ crawled into my lap one night.” His expression begins to brighten saucily. “By the time he had finished suckin’ me off I didn’ much care.” Maybe that made more sense - at least a little of it. Merle would have been easily fooled by Shori’s androgyny. That cherubic face, shapely legs, tiny waist, and those pigtails could have anyone thinking Shori was female. Yet, Daryl knew there would have come a point where it was blatantly obvious, and yet Merle had carried right on. Clearly had to have.
Merle knows Shori has a cock now, and had it practically stuck in his lap a minute ago. Whatever initial confusion there was, that is long over.
“That makes it okay?” Daryl is viciously snapping like a bear trap.
“It ain’t?” Merle’s voice is just as vicious, but sarcastic. “We’re dead! An’ I thought you of all people would like that!”
Me of all people? Daryl’s gaze narrows as Merle references his sexuality. Like he has always known and never cared. Except Daryl knows how much it had mattered to the Dixons in life. He lived through it.
Daryl wants to scream at how fucked up and unfair this is but he does not have the words to explain it. Everything his mind conjures sounds homophobic so the words die in his throat. He had to be punished for every little glance at a guy during his life, but Merle gets to waltz in with Shori like it is nothing? What the hell kind of afterlife is that?
“Fuck you!” Daryl opts for the safe bet. It is a tried and true winner for when he does not know what else to say. Merle snarls at him for saying it, calling him an asshole before they both stomp off in different directions.
Merle heads back to the larger group watching a war flick, and Daryl falls onto the couch beside Taylon so hard that his lover and Bijou pop up a little further down the couch. They are watching some weird cartoonish movie that he barely pays attention to. It does make it feel a bit like he is in the room where all the kids got sent, while the rest of them watch the ‘adult’ movie. Honestly, he would prefer to see Black Hawk Down again after thinking movies were gone for good.
There is electricity in this house, and he knows from his initial flyover and seeing the lights in the windows that the whole community has it. There are creature comforts here, and they will have more movies. No movie is worth being near his brother at the moment. Fuck Merle.
Daryl tries to bottle up the raging anger inside himself as Taylon snuggles in against his side now that Daryl is back with them. He pays his mate far more attention than the childish movie, wrapping an arm around Tay’s middle. After a while he reaches for the blood glass and starts to drink. It does taste fine, almost savory.
The movie carries on in the background as he thinks about Merle, and Shori. Holy hell. Shori had seemed nice and helpful at the front door. Someone more on Bijou and Taylon’s level, than on Ferdinand and Malifus’. How the hell is he with Merle?
As the anger subsides, calmer and more curious thoughts sneak forward. It seems… Dixon men have a penchant for the shorter, youthful types. Slimmer and less muscular. They both clearly like sweethearts without rough edges. As Taylon twines himself around Daryl’s arm, he thinks that they both like cuddly types too since Shori was draped over Merle’s lap when he saw them. Neither of them got any of that in their lifetimes.
Even if Merle insists it all started because of a little confusion, Daryl knows his brother let it continue. They may not be blood bound, but Merle has to like being physical with Shori a little.
He has to like being with a guy.
And it is not that Daryl would care, not really except… Why does Merle get to be with a guy without paying his dues, like Daryl had? He suffered to get here. Before walkers, Merle fucked around with girls in bars and put Daryl down for not doing that. Meanwhile Daryl would turn his eyes away from men, doing nothing because the option was too terrifying to dare. Now, what?
He is just supposed to be happy for Merle, like he never got?
The whole thing reeks of unfairness.
As Daryl is mulling and stewing, the movie turns to another song. Except this time it is harder to tune out because Taylon and Bijou start to sing back and forth. They say the lines perfectly in time with the characters on the screen, turned towards one another and gleefully reciting them.
It is clearly a well loved movie between the pair and it reminds Daryl that there are relationships here with a hell of a lot of longevity. Bijou gets less annoying each day, or it seems that way.
Then the side characters quiet as the walking corpse - a literal walker but with heart - takes control of the song. Both Taylon and Bijou stare at her instead, and in unison they parrot her sorrowful words, which Daryl cannot help but feel was written by a vampire.
“If I touch a burning candle I can feel no pain.
In the ice or in the sun it’s all the same.
Yet I feel my heart is aching.
Though it doesn’t beat, it’s breaking.
And the pain here that I feel.
Try and tell me it's not real.
I know that I am dead.
Yet it seems that I still have some tears to shed.”
Both Taylon and Bijou have red tears by the end of her song, even as they sing along. Though they do not have their ethereal, walker controlling voices, there is a soft honest connection to the words and they harmonize well together. It is pretty.
And the song is… sadly right. They have lost the ability to take on certain pain, which he knows from trying to burn himself and the temperature disparity, but his heart is still prone to anger and confusion. There is plenty of fear and agony in this world to hand out to everyone in spades, whether they are living or undead.
After the song Taylon leans into him and Daryl wipes the red tear tracks away for him. A smile is projected his way from his lover for that, before Tay squirms down as if Daryl is a cozy mattress, hugging onto Daryl’s bicep through the finale. He likes being able to be that for Taylon.
Verity… Vindar… Instead of focusing on the movie, Daryl thinks that vampires have plenty to lose as well. Yet sitting here with them, knowing Merle is nearby with a partner he does not fucking deserve, that they are not plotting but sitting watching a movie, and that Daryl is with his own lover… it does sort of close off the thought that there is any point in the humans trying to rebel.
No point in looking for weaknesses. Not because the vampires could not be fought, but Daryl no longer sees them as potential fearful overlords. They are just people, at a different phase of life.
They are all trying to survive, the how of it just varies depending on whether your heart beats or not.
Rick and the others will just have to get used to the new world order and hopefully, Daryl can help with that.
Notes:
Nikki is on a sabbatical so I couldn’t check if Corpse Bride is an okay add. Hope so! It feels appropriate for a cutesy movie that would show up in the TWD universe. Plus it came out before 2010 so it works, lol
Tay knew about the scent the whole time…
What do you guys think of Merle and Shori?!
Also that excuse… And Daryl’s reaction…
Chapter 23: Untouched
Notes:
Ah Tay, he does love being Daryl's precious one!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The cartoon corpse movie finishes well before the war movie, but Daryl does not want to face Merle again so soon. Not even to catch half of a good flick. So when Taylon and Bijou remark that it is time for bed, Daryl follows them up the stairs. He expects some bat nest or maybe a supersized king bed for them all, but instead the hallway they walk up to looks as normal as any house.
Bijou blows them both a kiss and says adieu before slipping behind one door.
It is then that Daryl looks about the upstairs landing and notices nameplates on the doors. Bijou’s says hers. Simple but elegantly painted plaques attached at eye level of each door. Some with one name but most bear two.
Adelaide & Malifus
Ferdinand & Vindar
Taylon
Rotterdam & Petra
Verity
Shori & Merle
Of course that last one irks him. Merle has been in Shori’s bed long enough for it to be the norm. Yet he still had the balls to call Taylon a boytoy. Didn’ Bijou say they’re datin’? Tay’s my actual mate. Bonded t’ me. Mine.
His lover opens the door with his own name on it, and only his. Though given how he waits and holds it open for Daryl, he suspects it is only a matter of time before his name is tacked on, like how Merle’s was.
If he wants, Daryl is sure he can make a home here. The only problem is, Rick and Carol would not be here. Still, he pushes that thought aside for now. After staying awake on guard on top of the prior long day, he is ready for some sleep.
Once he enters, Taylon takes his cloak and crossbow and hangs them up with a few cloaks in mostly browns and blacks. He finds a place for Daryl’s bag near the door too.
The room is large for a bedroom, but would make for a small apartment. There is a twin bed against the wall, which would be enough for Tay alone but will be a tight squeeze now. No coffin. Daryl thinks to himself of the Hollywood staple as he finds it lacking in them, save for one.
Instead of blinds, Taylon has boarded up the lone window in his room. They still keep the natural light at bay. He flicks a switch and two corner lamps come on, bearing soft, phosphorescent light. The room has an old fashioned feel to it, particularly with a couple of high backed chairs near a fireplace, reminiscent of a sitting area or a parlor. A few nice, spindly legged side tables dotted around that Daryl would consider fitting an elderly person's abode. An old rolling top desk, of course. Daryl reaches into his bag and removes Taylon’s notebook, setting it down in the midst of the empty, clearly tidily kept desktop. The leatherbound cover looks as if it belongs there on the polished wood.
His hand comes to rest on the back of the chair in front of the desk - also wooden and firm, without any accouterments save for a slim pillow. It fits Taylon. This may be a base of operations, but it is also a long-lived in home.
“As humans or bats, my love?” Taylon asks him curiously while unbuttoning his shirt. That alone draws Daryl’s eyes for a second, grateful to not have to deal with any blasted stiff buttons.
Then he realizes Taylon is gesturing to his bed and the space behind it. After a second of pause Daryl reaches for his shirt, wanting to get more comfortable too. As they both undress further, he lets his stare wander.
While the solid burgundy comforter looks inviting, something else draws his eye. There is a long wooden shelf behind the bed, loaded with a diorama type mix of boxes. Everything within is doll-like, yet it only takes a few glances for Daryl to see the difference. There are no plastic, rough edged pieces nor any whimsical children’s toys, but soft looking, mostly fabric items. Little bean bag looking spaces, or pillows, or even whole boxes where the entire room looks soft.
It is a perfectly bat-sized space.
Taylon’s bat shelf draws his curiosity, so Daryl answers by transforming and flying into it. Now that he is properly sized to step inside, it becomes far more fascinating. The inside has been done with care instead of a slapdash fashion. Walls and ceilings are painted while several floors are carpeted or entirely made of pillow. Two rooms are detailed enough that paint becomes like fake wainscotting, running the length of the room. The little doorways between rooms are perfectly sized for his bat-form to hop or crawl through.
One room even has mesh in the ceiling, while another has wooden poles. Roosting areas for being upside down, he realizes after a moment.
Mostly it is a variety of textures, but there is one room with a little set of firm chairs around a teeny table. None have backs, which would make it easier for them to sit in bat-form, he thinks. Mostly though, there is no furniture, yet it seems terribly cozy.
Daryl finds a room with a nice velvet pillow taking up half the space, watching Tay crawl in and join him. They start to curl up side by side in the middle of the pillow. The box-room actually has a little blanket too, which his mate bites a corner of and then drags across his body. They do not need the warmth, but it feels nice to be covered.
Feels nicer getting Tay’s head under his chin as he crawls over and gently nudges in. They cuddle together, drifting off without needing to say another word.
When Daryl next awakens he finds his nostrils in Tay’s fur, taking great lungfuls of him in. After sleeping snug side by side, he wakes half on top of Taylon. He can smell his own coagulating scent and is reminded of what Merle said. Everyone has known, yet nothing was said until Merle had wanted to be an ass and lash out at him.
Daryl nuzzles the fur beneath him, because to him it smells good. His mate does not deserve Merle’s ire. His mate, who does not care if everyone in the room smells Daryl’s cum inside him. Nor would his mate mind if they all watched Daryl fill him up with a fresh batch. It is a delicious kind of confusion that bubbles up his belly.
Least Merle shouldn’ say much shit about Tay’s gender now. The one upside of Merle being with Shori is that he could eat his own goddamn words now, at least by Daryl’s reckoning.
Fuck Merle though.
Yes, he is glad Merle is alive. Of course, Daryl is pleased that his brother is not stumbling around as a walker in Georgia. A large part of Daryl knows he might have never discovered what happened to Merle and been left in the lurch forever.
It is better to know and have him close by, yet it makes him nervous. Merle hardly brings anything good out of him. Not before, and not now.
Tay does. He considers how much happier he has been since bonding to Taylon. Rick might have taught him to be a better man, but actually being happier is down to Tay’s affection. Being with Taylon is like having everything he thought was outside his reach… partly due to Merle.
Shit, he wants to hate Merle for taking something he once laughed at!
Instead, Daryl flies down and transforms on Taylon’s twin bed. He stretches out in his boxers, waiting as his lover squeaks and flutters after him a moment later. Amusingly, Taylon lands on his chest in bat form and Daryl realizes he fills out the bed so much that his lover is being cautious. “You can lay right on me, Tay.” Daryl assures him, reaching down carefully and stroking atop his little furry head with the tip of his index finger. His lover has the cutest little leathery ears.
A moment later Daryl gets a weight against him as Taylon appears in his usual bipedal form. The blond looks a little flustered from their sudden flushed bodies, but he is smiling softly. Better still, Taylon is bare save for a pair of briefs that Daryl knows will take a half a second to slide down. Their legs shift as they grow more comfortable while pressing together.
Taylon nips on his own lower lip, gaze soft on Daryl. “I’ve dreamed of having you in this bed.” The soft, sincere words are whispered in the quiet of the room.
“Yeah?” Daryl asks curiously, unsurprised by his sweet, dreamy lover. He sticks his arm under his head and regards Tay. He knows it is going to nudge his lover to ask, “What’d we do when ya dreamed?”
“A lot of this.” Taylon admits while idly caressing along Daryl’s bare chest. “And kissing.” There is a tiny, short giggle given at the admission.
“Not more?” Daryl’s voice is gruff and low as he asks. He knows how dirty Taylon can get, but also that it is a more recent development. Still, his brow crests when Tay shakes his head no.
“It felt... like a disservice to think of you in a crude way.” Taylon quietly explains, as if already aware he has been a touch too careful.
Daryl’s lips crack apart in amusement at Taylon’s strange sense of morality. Unwilling to say the word sex, unable to daydream of sex with his soul mate, but perfectly happy to be soaked in semen while the world knows it. Still, it does bring to mind one curious thought that Daryl asks. “Then what’d ya think of while touchin’ yerself?”
“I did not.”
What?
After a second, that madness processes. The depths of Taylon’s patience astounds Daryl sometimes. He knows he had gotten comfortable with his own hand plenty of times, so it is shocking to think of Taylon abstaining for what amounted to decades.
“Never masturbated?”
“No.”
“Damn shame.” Daryl mutters quietly, words slipping beneath his breath. Then Daryl thinks of his regret from their last erotic tumble; Not touching Taylon more. His lover’s admission is a reminder of how physically starved life has made them both. Tay's cock is virginally untouched. Luckily, he thinks he knows exactly the remedy.
“Well, that is not a terrible thing is it?" The words shyly tumble out of Tay's mouth. "I would only have been able to dream of you, but doing that to thoughts of you… it sounds quite crass.” Taylon starts to gain more gray tones while leaning forward and half cuddling against Daryl’s chest in embarrassment. “And I liked the thought of.. of you being the only touch I know.”
“No.” Daryl answers lowly, not wanting to make his lover too self conscious. It is not terrible, just surprising. He does not know of many who could have abstained from even touching themselves. Then when Tay carries on, Daryl swears he feels a warm glow, like a fireplace, as he is reminded that Tay kept himself safe like a gift for Daryl alone. Stacks of choices made throughout his life, all for want of love for Daryl. “Good thought.” Daryl mutters savoringly, easing strands of blond back from his lover’s half-hidden face while trying to wrap his mind around just how untouched his lover is.
If Taylon is his, then Daryl does not want him waiting much longer. With Tay snuggled against him it is easy to grip the sides of his briefs and pull them down. After a second, Tay shimmies and then shifts his legs to kick them off. Once he is bare, Daryl sets a hand on his lover’s smooth backside.
As tempting as that rounded rump is beneath his hand, and more tempting still for the precious cargo it carries, Daryl has something else in mind but it is not until this moment that he realizes how to take it. He scoots over until his back is against the wall and then shifts sideways to have Tay sliding off him a little. Once his lover gets the hint and is curiously on his back, Daryl reaches down, touching his flat stomach.
Daryl is staring right into those ringed lavender pools, so he watches them naively widen as Tay feels his curious fingers going lower. Then they pop as Daryl brushes his lover’s cock.
“Oh my stars!” Tay’s body arches and breath hitches.
He can see his lover’s brows jump high before his eyes snap shut. The half hard, small cock in his hand stiffens beneath his touch. Lines appear and clench in Tay’s forehead.
Daryl fights himself to not go further, or faster. Ain’t ever touched himself…
Tay’s lower lip quivers wordlessly as a haze comes over him. His fingers tighten on Daryl’s shoulder.
“Ya said I can be the only touch ya know.” Daryl reminds him quietly while rapidly developing a feel for Tay’s smaller cock. Saved fer me…
His lover spreads his legs further, though Daryl needs no help. With virginal, blushing admiration, Taylon looks up at him through long lashes. “Yes… and I mean it.” Tay tells him adoringly before biting his lower lip and groaning in his throat as Daryl strokes him. If this body is his, then he is going to show his mate pleasure worth waiting for.
‘Cause he knows he’s mine.
“Tay..” Daryl growls out while his feral side tells him to lunge and jump, but his mind reminds him to be calm and slow. His fingertips uncurl and move down his lover’s shaft, applying a touch of pressure as they come to Taylon’s almost smooth sac. Although doing this to someone else is new, Daryl opts to focus on how good he is making his patient lover feel.
“Oh my love!” Taylon gasps and rocks his hips twice into Daryl’s tempting hand.
Thinking of how badly Taylon has waited for this only instills a further proud confidence in him. His palm engulfs his lover’s scrotum with a firm caress before he returns to a wrapped fist and starts to work Tay’s shaft over again.
He’s mine to hold an’ kiss… mine to bite.. an’ fill…
Arching back into the bed, the pleasure is written all over Taylon’s blown wide expression that melts into a near closed one a second later. It is like his eyes pop open at the surprise of it all before closing in bliss, and it all cycles through again within a minute. He keeps biting his lower lip and staring in desperate adoration at Daryl when his eyes are open.
Taylon’s cock is much smaller than his own but Daryl kind of likes how that simplifies things. His palm can keep most of his lover’s shaft at once, so when he strokes he keeps touching much of his lover.
Tay knows he belongs under me.
“It good fer ya, Tay?” Daryl murmurs curiously as the hard cock in his hand begs for its release.
“Yes, Daryl!” Tay cries out for him desperately as his hips give a sudden rocking.
Daryl gives a few firmer strokes and has his lover’s hips jerking into his hand seconds later. Taylon is panting gorgeously, though it stalls abruptly as he cums a few white ribbons onto his own belly.
Daryl strokes him slowly to make sure his lover enjoys himself completely, feeling proud to have brought on that level of pleasure. Hell, Tay had never gotten anything like that before and Daryl is glad to be his first.
First everything.
Grateful even. It is shocking, old fashioned, and sweet as hell how much Taylon abstained from pleasure to preserve all of that for Daryl. To let his lover be the only imprint on him. To share those first moments together. To let his lover shape Tay to his desires.
To show Daryl the depths of his heart.
After taking his hand away from his lover’s cock and seeking a new place for it, Daryl settles on one of Taylon’s nipples and finds his already panting lover growing more shallow of breath. The nub grows hard and easy to tease in seconds. His lover’s body is so responsive, and blessedly all his.
And they both know it.
“Oh Daryl!” Taylon moans wantonly beneath him as the hunter bends down and lashes his tongue over the untouched nipple, quickly teasing it to an equal hardness to its neighbor. Instead of simply nipping at them, Daryl works his tongue with playful tenderness. “Daryl!” He finds he likes Tay’s shuddering breaths and desperately whispering his name. He thought it would be a short respite but he finds himself rather enjoying Tay’s chest.
When the hunter sits up, his lover whimpers in want, so Daryl tips his head back down and takes his teeth over Tay’s neck before kissing down it and lapping at his hard nipples one after the other. Once Tay whimpers again, Daryl lets his teeth close around one, getting a little rough and bitey.
Untouched and mine… precious even…
Fuck, but Tay makes a few noises that are the most keening kinds of whining. Daryl reaches between his thighs and squeezes his lover’s sac while listening to Tay whine in his throat as Daryl keeps nipping at his chest. After each overly rough bite he makes sure to lap his tongue over them. It makes Tay sound like he is trying not to be noisy, but cannot help each sensually sweet noise from escaping him.
Daryl must have worked his lover’s chest over for an hour, finding Tay wanting him to stay and Daryl enjoying the teasing.
When he stops a little later, both nubs are red, a little chewed, and protruding. Taylon is flushed and begging under his breath for more. Daryl kisses the center of his chest instead, heady like he has feasted and drank from his lover’s body.
He reaches for Tay’s legs and rolls him slightly sideways, getting his lover’s knees bent. Daryl shifts one of his legs up, sliding his hard cock near to his beloved’s entrance. Tay lifts one leg, hooking it around Daryl. He finds himself leaning in, putting one foot on the floor just before lining himself up. Now at a forty-five degree angle rather than head on, not only can he slide right into his lover, but he can look down and watch Taylon’s greedy, round cheeks swallow his cock up.
“Look at that ass.” Daryl mutters while reaching down between them to caress it.
“Still wet.” Tay whispers in promise, biting his lower lip for a second as Daryl’s fingertips caress one of his exposed cheeks. He whimpers in his throat at the first hard thrust, head falling back against the mattress.
And he is soaked, too. By now Daryl has fucked and finished inside Tay enough that he feels the wetness the second he eases past Tay’s tight ring. That fucking gorgeous little piece of muscle that constantly constricts on him makes Daryl forget all his senses and start thrusting just to fight its elastic perfection. In seconds, he is rocking in and out of his slick lover.
His balls slap against Tay’s cheeks within a minute. They grow a little sticky from how wet he is. Unlike their bat sex where Daryl is mostly humping, his cock drags in and out of his lover, taking his seed with it.
Wanting to carry on with being better to Taylon, Daryl reaches for his mate’s shaft and starts to stroke as best he can while thrusting. It takes more focus. His lover spasms more than usual, and begs him. Daryl keeps his hand going, focused on claiming his lover’s pleasure like it is a job. The clenching muscles tighten faster, with Taylon climaxing again abruptly with jerking hips and a cry of Daryl’s name. Unlike before, neither of them lasts very long.
Daryl speeds up until the pleasurable supernova hits and overtakes him. He makes sure to push as his climax hits, buried deep to not waste a drop. Then he sighs softly and grunts. A lump rises in his throat as he looks down and watches his cock slide wet and soft out of Taylon. As he pulls out, he swears his throat seizes as pearls of white follow the tip of his cock and leak out of Tay’s spasuming, puckered hole. He actually watches it drip and contract.
Daryl curses beneath his breath to see a lengthy strand of cum running down Tay’s taint. It starts to pool on the bedsheets. He looks like he belongs in a porn video and yet Daryl is strangely proud.
In seconds he turns and rakes his teeth over his lover’s hard, protruding red nipple. Tay whines deep in his throat from the touch, raw and sensitive.
“Ya like that?” Daryl asks quietly to be sure he is not going too far. They look like they have been through the ringer.
“Yes.” Tay whispers heatedly and with a lick of sin. “Oh yes.”
Daryl starts to smirk, realizing while mortals would be stopping, that they are barely getting started. Tay is reaching back to take hold of any bit of Daryl he can reach, getting some shoulder. The hunter tips his head and nips at his lover’s fingers before shifting position to get to straddling Taylon.
Then Daryl is eagerly leaning back down to continue savoring the blond’s body beyond his dripping hole. He only takes a gentle bite that does not break skin, lapping at Taylon’s throat eagerly before pulling back. Pleased but slightly taken aback eyes rest on his as Tay looks towards him, still looking all aflutter.
“Oh Daryl.” Tay begs him adoringly.
“Mhmm?” Daryl murmurs in return, flicking his tongue on Tay’s collarbone as he travels along flat and angular pale stretches. His lover tips his head back obediently, but when Daryl reaches his neck he makes it a point not to bite him. Just to kiss his flesh like Taylon is the only man in the world.
“You’re being so gentle tonight, my love.” Tay whispers against his lips after catching his breath once they pull apart.
“I wanna feel you. Touch you.” Daryl tries to explain it but knows it falls short. Now that he is no longer so horny that he cannot focus on much else, Daryl has put his lover’s faithful wait center stage and feels it is owed a due of affection. Those waiting lips and formerly untouched cock deserved this.
“Do I feel good?” Tay whispers to him softly.
“So good, Tay.” Daryl promises his lover adoringly, not wanting him to doubt it for a second. “Ya like it?”
“You feel so good.” Tay’s quiet words are soft yet heady with emotion. “Your mouth, your hands... You.. touching me.” The soft, shy way he says the last comment leaves no room for it to be misinterpreted as anything but the earlier handjob.
“You wanna be touched again?” Daryl offers while already putting his lips on his lover’s throat. He is going to work his way down and enjoy every second.
“Yes, please?” Tay whispers appreciatively. “You’re so good at it.”
“Ain’t ever done this before.” Daryl does not mind admitting his novelty so much, when he knows he is excelling.
“It’s an honor.” Tay whispers, words soft and appreciative. There is care in each one but awe too, as if still trying to believe Daryl is his.
“Honor’s all mine, trust me.” Daryl promises, gruff and low but sincere.
“Daryl, you are so sweet.”
He nearly snorts against Tay's flesh at that, flicking his tongue instead for a second. “Never been accused of that.” When he watches his lover's body twitch from his words, Daryl blows against his lover's wet chest.
Taylon whines in his throat before answering, with his words panted out a little. “I would, if you would not mind.”
Goddamn, Taylon is sweet as hell.
Daryl begins to stroke his lover with a little more confidence than the first time. “Could keep this up all night.” He pauses his work to bend forward, flicking a nipple before sliding his tongue across it. “These might not take it all night.” Daryl teases Tay over how quickly his sensitive, virginal body has responded and grown raw. Though, even for a vampire, maybe an hour of nipple play is a bit much.
“I do like being so sensitive.” Tay admits softly, words lascivious yet soft.
“Yeah?” Daryl asks with immediate intrigue, dropping his lips back down to one nub and dragging his teeth over it to listen to Taylon’s gasping breath jump in his throat. His lover’s legs squirm and Daryl’s sides are briefly clasped by eager thighs. He sits up a little straighter, cupping and massaging Tay’s sac to focus on his chest.
“Everything is sharper.” Tay explains it in a near breathless voice. "I want you to push me harder."
Daryl works his fangs over them until he can feel Taylon shuddering under him. His lover’s nipples surely must ache but Taylon is not trying to stop him. No, instead he whines and moans, only ever asking for more.
The hunter starts to suck his lover’s chest harder, not stopping as he knows those raw, painful nubs are twisting Tay’s nerves in a good way. His own cock is hard and wanting, but seeing precum pooling on Taylon’s tip redirects his attention every time. God, does it make Taylon pant and struggle to keep his mind together.
After a second of awe, Daryl inserts two fingers inside Taylon. He starts to stroke them in and out to make his lover even filthier while sucking more fervently on his chest. It makes Tay’s voice hitch as it gets messily noisy when Daryl’s fingers move faster.
For the first time, the goal of the evening does not seem to be to fill Tay’s backside, but rather to completely empty his sac, and Daryl truly does see it as a damn honor.
Notes:
Damn, Tay - your nipples are not chew toys...
So good news, bad news.
Good news is I have two finished chapters, featuring more moments with Merle, Rick & Carol.
Bad news is, I am catching up to where I had stopped writing. I want to, 1) Give this story a proper sendoff with the final DC chapters being well written instead of rushed, and, 2) Make sure I do NOT fall behind on my posting schedule in my main story, The Outdoor Cat & Indoor Dog.
So, once I post the next two chapters of this fic, there will be a pause on the last few chapters of The Good, The Bad, & The Bloody. As long as I do that, there will be NO pause on The Outdoor Cat & Indoor Dog. So apologies for the break on this story, but also, this way it is worth waiting for!
Chapter 24: Chaffing & Chatting
Chapter Text
Taylon’s body is raw when they finish, cuddling in human form on the too tight bed. Only a couple of bruises and hickeys, as most of the damage is centered on his painfully looking, chaffed, long nipples. The hunter thinks he might have swallowed most of Tay's top layer of skin.
Granted, when Tay’s backside was visibly too invitingly sticky, Daryl lined them up and pushed inside Taylon again. They still had a few rounds of sex, just not as much as their rabid, humping nights/days. Daryl was better focused on his lover’s body this time.
More aware of Taylon’s devotion, it had become necessary to shower him with affection. Which is why Tay is laying on his chest with a soft grin, getting his hair tousled. It hits Daryl then that he would have never thought himself capable of being so physically comfortable with someone else.
“Your mouth is so powerful…” Tay’s words are adoring and lovestruck, but Daryl knows he earned that awe. His jaw had tired repeatedly, but he had forced himself to work through it. He never expected his lover would get so into nipple play. “And your hands are magical.” The gentle, content words are heavy with his lover’s appreciation. Daryl knows he is being savored and he lets the bed hold them while caressing Tay’s upper body idly.
Could carry him right into the hall, living room - do they have a kitchen? We could leave the room an’ fuck right out in the open. He’d like that, fuckin’ kinky vampire that he is.
He is not going to of course, but the knowledge he can is a heady draft. As they cuddle, Daryl thinks of the growingly long list of things he is now capable of or allowed to do. So many are simple things that he could never imagine, such as how they are cuddling together now, but others are raucously depraved, like the thought of fucking his mate more publicly.
What would people think if they saw?
People... shit.
That is the moment that he realizes this lustful haze has gone on for what feels like hours, and if it actually feels like that then it must be longer. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face, wondering how the others in his group have managed during the time.
“We lose a day?” Daryl asks while considering that surely they had gone on for so long that it must be a full day spent in the bat-rooms and then the full sized bed.
“I think we might have.” Tay murmurs with a pleased uptick following. “I would not consider it lost.”
“No.” Daryl agrees, though he is thinking of his living family. If a whole day passed, then they would have gotten out into the community. They would have explored without him. “Should get dressed. See Rick.” His words are apologetic, knowing that this terribly cozy snuggle will have to end for that.
As Daryl climbs out of bed and reaches for discarded items of clothing, Taylon sits up and watches him. Daryl glances over and spots blond strands sticking out at odd angles and he can smell how cum drenched Tay is from here. Now that the scent of the room has dulled, Tay’s backside is deliciously more prominent in his nostrils.
His lover’s eyes are soft on him too. Daryl can tell Tay is thinking of how much he adores his new lover; His one and only.
“We need to get you a wardrobe.” More thoughtfully to himself Tay adds, “I can clear closet space for you today.” He shifts the bedsheets and when one dips down, Daryl spots a still red, chaffed nipple and is briefly tempted but he focuses on Tay’s words.
It is then that Daryl realizes that, being a bit of a larger man than his lanky lover, that none of the clothes in this room will fit him save for what he brought in on his own back. “Yeah,” he murmurs while supposing rewearing the clothes from before will do. Not like he changed a hell of a lot on the road, or before then anyway. “‘S fine.”
Once dressed, Daryl bends over to kiss Taylon’s lips as he bids him goodbye. He cannot help but reach down and pinch a prominent, hard nub, just to hear his lover gasp like he is disintegrating. “Won’t be long.” Daryl gruffly promises, words low and secretly delighted. His sensitive, mentally spinning lover can barely manage a flustered nod.
Daryl plays back that moment in his mind repeatedly on the walk over.
After speaking with Rick, Daryl parks himself on the front porch. It feels easier to belong there than inside, where people have started living. Although he was away for a little over a day, things already feel changed inside. Settled.
He sits out front before realizing as his back hits the wall that he left his crossbow behind, back on Taylon’s desk. It irks him, even if it makes sense since his hands and fangs are lethal weapons now.
Then the front door opens and someone new yet familiar appears. The collared shirt, the lack of creases, and her tidily combed hair… Who is this woman? It brings a slight smirk and raise of his brows.
Carol stops on the front steps, sitting down on the same one as Daryl. They catch one another’s eyes and she rolls hers.
“We’re both trying to fit in.” Carol points out after a moment of pleasurable silence. Then she asks curiously, “How is it over there?”
Daryl supposes that is true. He does not want to be an outsider to the vampires, because then every time he visits his lover it will be awkward. Or there will be parts of his lover’s life he is excluded from. Especially after knowing Merle has joined the pack, it feels all the more important. Yet he does not want to feel like he is slipping away from the living either.
“Not what I expected.” Daryl gives her an honest answer as he thinks of the group instead of just his lover, which is sappy stuff and surely not what Carol really wants to know. “They watch movies an’ sleep in beds.” Daryl remarks with honest awe at the simple things, which he finds the oddest, having expected much darker stuff.
Carol meets his eyes with a raised brow before she chuckles, shaking her head. “I think Malifus had a point. They were people.” She reaches over and pats his arm. “Some still are.”
“They’re alright.” Daryl quietly agrees, not showing that he is genuinely glad that Carol sees it that way. Particularly when Rick had mentioned scoping out defenses minutes ago. Daryl does not see the point in guns when they have fangs, but he knows he would be struggling if he still had a pulse.
It is different when you are stronger.
“Merle being here…” Carol exhales as if still trying to wrap her mind around the other Dixon not being dead. It is a reminder of how much has happened so fast.
“Yeah.” Daryl agrees that it is wild to have Merle actually here, though he knows he is the only one to be any kind of glad about it. Even then, there are too many accompanying emotions to let him really feel happy about it. Merle being here makes things more confusing, not better.
“What?” Carol asks while angling her body more towards him.
Daryl bites the end of a nail and glances at the road. The shaded porch covers him from the bright sunshine dotting the street. “What if he fucks it up?” Daryl asks her quietly. He has no one else to share such a thought with. Even Taylon might not understand, but Carol knows Merle as he was when he was alive. He thinks she will understand; Daryl finally has something good, and his own. Something he never was allowed to have before - and Merle was a part of holding him back from that, when they were both still alive.
“Don’t let him.” Carol reaches over and squeezes his knee. Her eyes burn briefly with that ferocity and fire of her confidence. “And don’t forget, you are stronger than when he last saw you.”
Taylon’s love feels unbreakable though, and coupled with Carol’s words, it makes Daryl realize it is not the fear of losing Tay that is bothering him. He knows he has his remarkably devoted lover, reminded of the fact Tay’s blood is in his veins and their stares will always be connected. It is Merle spoiling everyday moments…
Merle making some comment or Daryl feeling his stare. Of sitting in some vampiric common space and having to share it with his brother’s snark…
And his brother’s boytoy. Fuck Merle’s language, if anyone is a boytoy, it is fucking Shori!
After a beat of quiet, Daryl murmurs to her, “Merle’s datin’ a vampire.”
“Is she.. like Merle?” Carol asks curiously, words careful but curious.
Are they an asshole, she means. A racist prick with a fucked up moral code. Someone like Merle.
“He’s.. nice.” Daryl grunts out unhappily before waiting for the proverbial penny to drop.
“He?” Carol repeats incredulously.
“He.” Daryl stiffly mutters, voice low as that hangs in the air between them
“Wow.” Carol exhales and nods while wrapping her mind around that shift. She lays her hand on her knee and leans back a little, clearly having expected that no more than anyone expected Merle to be here with fangs.
“Yeah.” Daryl answers with a snip as he hunches forward a little further.
“You sound pissed about that.”
Do I? Daryl honestly is not sure, but he knows the words dropping from his lips are tight and feel shorter than usual. He knows Merle sure as hell does not deserve to be happy with another man after the life he lived. So, he decides to admit it if only to Carol, who he would consider his closest confidant. “Am.” Daryl mutters half beneath his breath, accepting that he is.
He fucking knows there is a new rage inside him that was born the second he saw Shori draped across Merle’s lap.
“Okay.” Carol answers gently, sitting ready to listen.
He reaches for his cigarettes, waiting until he has gotten it lit and taken a couple of puffs before he says anything. He appreciates that Carol does not push him in the meantime. “I toed the line - he runs across it.” Daryl lowly releases his gruff and unforgiving words.
“That must feel unfair.”
Unfair does not begin to cut it, so he scowls yet nods. “Yeah.”
“But, you don’t have to toe it anymore. You shouldn’t forget that.” Carol pushes for him to see the bigger picture than just Merle.
It does make him nod to her. Maybe Carol has a point. Life has changed - hell, his ended. Now he does feel looser and less worried, not to mention how fulfilled Tay makes him feel. His concerns have shifted. Merle's feelings are not a priority for him anymore so at the end of the day, fuck Merle.
"Fuck Merle." He decides to say it aloud, gruff but honest and unbridled. Carol chuckles at that and he feels damn good about it.
Merle ruled enough of his life, but Daryl does not have to give him any of his afterlife.
Everything had been fine until they headed inside and started dispersing to their own spaces. It highlights the lack of a bed with them for Daryl, though he understands. He would sleep anywhere Tay was. There is no point in staying here.
He spends a little time on the porch before taking flight, knowing they do not need constant protection. He still does a lap around the perimeter to be sure, passing Ferdinand on watch at the front gate.
As long as the vampires are vigilant and the walls hold, this place appears secure. The people have stuffiness but are not threatening at all. Still, it feels odd to leave his group again and return to the vampires’ home while knowing there is not exactly a place for him at either of them.
Yet as he knocks, no one answers so he pushes in and peeks his head in. Daryl calls out a hesitant greeting and hears Shori’s cheerful voice, “Upstairs!”
Daryl mounts the stairs slowly and finds a whole lot of hustle and bustle in the upstairs hall. Malifus has dragged a twin bed into the hall and is leaning it against a wall, nodding to Daryl as he passes.
Bijou, Taylon, and Shori have removed boxes and are walking in a row to carry them. When they near, Daryl turns around and walks the way he had come to be in step with Taylon.
“Hello, my love. Are they alright?” Tay asks after the humans with kindness.
“Yeah. Settlin’ in.” Daryl answers before giving a nod to the vampires seemingly cleaning house. “What’s goin’ on? Want me t’ carry that?”
Taylon’s eyes turn a little sadder, though nobody seems boisterous or excited for the task at hand. They just work efficiently and quickly, all together.
“We are clearing Verity’s room and Vindar’s things.” Taylon explains softly. “There will be a wreath burning ceremony for them both later.”
Clear their things then mourn. That must be how they do it.
Daryl nods. “Lemme help.”
Chapter 25: A Bat Blowjob & A Memoriam
Summary:
This fic is now being paused at this chapter! Details in end notes.
Notes:
Little bit of Merle this chapter, and some bat cock. Oh my!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Daryl helps them move boxes before popping outside for a smoke. When he returns he does not knock but heads right inside, straight up the stairs. Like ants when the picnic is over, they are all gone now.
He starts looking at the plaques when he notices there are changes. Verity’s is gone. Vindar’s is there still though. Aside from a neat stack of boxes in the hall, there is nothing else lingering from the earlier activity.
Taylon’s door has changed too. He spots the longer plaque right away and is staring when his lover comes upon him in the hallway.
Daryl & Taylon
He turns his head to his lover, spotting his widening grin. Surely Tay had been waiting for him to see it.
“Do you like it?” He is asked with an eager, baited breath.
Daryl grunts as he stares at his name. He suspected they might do it sometime - thinking either Malifus or Taylon would. They would be the ones wanting to show Daryl he has a place here. Yet he is surprised it happened so fast.
And the humans did not leave him a room or a bed. Not that they had to but… he thinks they already know where he wants to lay his head.
Or more specifically, who he wants to lay it down beside.
Daryl strides over to his lover. When they enter Taylon’s room - or theirs now, he supposes - there is another surprise or two waiting for him.
“Ya got a new bed?”
The mattress steals his immediate focus because it is large and sticks further out from the wall than the twin. It could fit the pair of them side by side now. The bedside table has been moved to accommodate the larger bed taking up more space. Lastly, a surprisingly large pile of clothes is stacked on the desk chair. Mostly darker colored garments, though there is some red plaid in there.
“We did.” Taylon amends a little sweetly before shrugging. “Verity took a queen when we moved in, so we put my twin in that room for whoever is assigned next.” There is a knowing look on his face that says they needed the extra space. With a twin they had to be half on top of one another at least, which Daryl had actually liked but knew it would not work long term.
It will be nice to stretch out in though, and he does fall onto it after shrugging his cloak off. “An’ the clothes?” He asks about the clothing pile.
“Since we were dealing in the basement storage already, I brought up clothes that looked your size. You can go through them later and I’ll take away what you dislike.” Taylon explains while sitting on the edge of the bed primly. “If you come to D.C, we can make it a point to look for clothes.”
“Think I might.” Daryl states idly while letting the bed take hold of him for a second longer. “Rick said he was curious about it.”
“We could take a few humans, but it would elongate the trip terribly... I do not know if Malifus will want to.” Tay's voice is doubtful.
Oh. Must be a vampire only thing, which had not crossed his mind.
“Do ya fly there?” Daryl wonders if that must be why and when Taylon nods, he is proven right. He knows flight is much faster, even as a tiny bat. They were only walking along because of that need to protect the human group. He reminds himself it is an important journey and not a field trip, mentally deciding he will tell Rick that he would report back on it. The hunter sits up, sitting beside Taylon on the edge of their new bed.
“In a week it will be all over and done with.” Taylon then murmurs, “I hope you come.”
“Then I will.” Daryl agrees. “Long as this place is safe.” That is the only addendum he will make, since he will only leave his family in a true sanctuary.
“Really?” Tay asks quietly with a little awe, clearly not having expected this. As Daryl nods, he feels Taylon leaning in and instead of merely letting him cuddle Daryl tips his chin up and steals a kiss.
“I’m glad you kissed me.” Tay whispers afterwards, lips not far from Daryl’s.
“You coulda.”
“I can kiss you first?”
“Course ya can.” Daryl knows he has started most of their more physical moments but he never thought Taylon was holding anything back. So he figures, awkward as he might find it, that he will be a little explicit with Taylon. “You can always kiss or touch me, Tay.”
His lover stares up at him while considering what must be a tempting offer since Taylon is smiling with a hint of shyness up at him.
Then Daryl starts to think back, realizing unless Tay offered to do something for him, that Daryl had been the one doing the instigating and touching. “Ya know that, righ’?”
“I do now.”
It hits him that being from a slightly more prim and proper time, that maybe Taylon has some particularly old-fashioned views about who does what in the bedroom. Views that Daryl knows need to be brought up to date.
“Tay, it feels good when I touch an’ kiss ya?” He waits to get a nod from his attentive lover, whose focus is riveted solely on Daryl. “Well… feels good t’ me too.” It is embarrassing enough that he feels a slight queasiness at the very bottom of his gut when he says it, yet he knows now that he needs to spell this all out for Taylon. “And I gotta know you can take what ya want. If I ain’t makin’ you happy, what’s the point?”
The mention of Daryl caring for his happiness brightens Tay’s expression jovially. “I can take kisses, and touch you, and tell you everything…” Taylon murmurs softly as if he has to say it all aloud for it to be real.
Daryl feels him lean in close. He expects the cuddle and slides his arm around Tay’s waist in return, but rather than kissing side by side, Taylon leans across and whispers in his ear, “When I was looking for clothes in your size, going up and down the stairs, I felt a little of your love sliding out of me. I became so wet down there that I could feel it with every step.”
“Fuck.” Daryl immediately leans his head forward and kisses down his lover’s neck, as that is probably the most lurid thing Tay has ever said to him. It is the strangest kind of sweetly perverse thing to hear Tay call Daryl’s cum ‘love’ but he supposes his lover would never use the real term. So shy and sweet…
“You said only you can clean me - will you?” The soft words are so gentle yet perverse. “Please, my love?”
“Fuck… yeah…” Daryl mutters while still swiping his lips along Tay’s neck as that heats him something fierce. The blissful feeling disappears after a second as the body beneath his lips suddenly disappears. When Daryl opens his eyes, there is a little bat in the middle of the bed. He raises a brow as it lays itself down on its belly and lifts a visibly sticky rump.
It makes sense, Daryl supposes, since he has only ever stuck to his own bat form when licking Taylon clean. It is a part of their vampiric mating ritual that Daryl has come to accept, though he now finds himself mulling it over in a new way.
When Tay assumes their mating position, Daryl is usually in bat form, so it strikes him as odd being able to see it from this vantage point. The little ball of fur waits patiently, haunches up and wings tightly drawn into his body. His lover is sticky enough that Daryl cannot spot his entrance, just the slick mess of it.
With a careful hand, Daryl slides his rough palm under his lover and lifts the bat up to his face. In a moment of complete trust, Taylon lies still in his palm in the same position. Daryl could have closed his fist and crushed him, but instead he simply observes the little bat whose cheek rests on his ring finger. Though darker, Daryl can see the purple in his lover's now beadier eyes. He can discern slight blond coloring of the ends of the shafts of fur, and the richer reds beneath them.
Most of all though, Taylon is a sticky little mess between his haunches. What would probably just bring his human ass cheeks a bit of a shine, instead rests in visible dollops between leathery legs.
Knowing it is his own, and bearing a growing curiosity, Daryl lifts the bat in hand up to his lips. He notices how still and patient his lover is - and trusting. His whole being right in Daryl’s hand, and Taylon does not blink an eye. The intensity of his lover’s trust is a firm reminder of how deeply Taylon cares for him.
Knowing he can show that same care in his own way, Daryl brings his hand a little closer and lets his tongue run along one bony, leathery leg. It quivers at the attention. His chin hits his palm as Daryl’s tongue wanders further, caressing right through a sticky glob as his tongue hits Taylon squarely in the backside, getting a squeak out of him.
Daryl has never licked his lover in human form, but finds it is bringing on fewer intrusive thoughts to do so now, with Tay as a bat, than whenever he had thought about it. The salty, viscous drops are swallowed easily enough, turning fur wet with saliva instead. Daryl laps away with growing confidence, grunting once as he lets his tongue tip roam along his lover's lower body before sliding up Tay’s back. The tiny creature in his palm shakes, forepaws splayed out as he lies flat on his belly while his breath shudders as Daryl is running against the grain of his fur.
After observing the fact that his lover has clearly enjoyed being cleaned, and knowing his mouth is empty now save for a salty aftertaste, Daryl shifts the creature in his hand to roll Taylon over. He has to involve his other hand to get it done without risking Taylon falling, but he soon has the vampire bat on his back with a protruding little cock between them. Knowing it is so slight a feeling with their size difference, Daryl does not hesitate to lift his palm to his lips, bringing his lips over Taylon’s cock.
So tiny is his shaft that Daryl barely feels it, sucking his now keening, louder squeaking lover. He knows Taylon has never had blowjob before so he watches in minor amusement at the writhing of the pleasured creature. It takes barely a moment before Tay’s body jerks, a little flick of salt hits his tongue, and then the bat falls limply against his palm. Pulling his hand away, Daryl smirks slightly as Tay pants in his hand. He caresses his lover’s head with tiny, tender pets, before bringing his hands down to the bed. Slowly he pulls them apart, laying the bat down carefully. In a second, Taylon transforms before him - naked and breathless but smiling softly.
“Roll over.” Daryl tells him directly, watching as his beloved does exactly as commanded. The hunter leans down and spreads his lover’s backside, cheeks stretched apart as he takes a peek. As expected, getting a cleaning in bat form has tidied his human one. “Yer all set.” Daryl tells him with a slight firm pat to Taylon’s right ass cheek after releasing him.
“That was… phenomenal.” Tay says breathlessly, while turning his head sideways on the pillow. He does not shift away or try and hide his body from view now that it is done. Nor does he reach for the bedsheets.
Daryl swells with pride to hear how blissful his lover sounds. Tay looks positively spent and content. He nods once and turns away from the bed, deciding to go through the clothes that Taylon had thoughtfully brought up for him. He quickly creates a pile for keeping and one for discarding. Though after a moment, Daryl glances back to the bed and sees no change.
Just splayed, stretched, and happy Tay. Softly smiling with his eyes closed and cheek against the pillow.
Fuck, if he ain’t the sweetest thang.
It would have been stranger for the hunter if they were both in their human forms for that licking, but Daryl thinks he is feeling more comfortable about that now. Perhaps later he and Tay can lick every inch of each other and see where it takes them.
Or maybe he can get a blowjob off Tay. Now that is a deeply rewarding thought too.
As Daryl is thinking of his richly besotted lover and Taylon seems to be sliding into lust-satiated sleep, there comes a knock at the door. After briefly glancing to his lover, who lifts his head slowly, Daryl steps over to the door. He makes it a point to ensure it is only open a crack, so that Tay’s lavishly spread out, bare body will not be visible.
“Yeah?” Daryl asks as he finds himself looking down at Bijou’s surly stare.
“We’re going in fifteen or twenty minutes. Tell Taylon.” Then as she turns, and with a smirk she adds, “Name looks good hanging there!” As Bijou saunters away, Daryl glances down at the plaque on the door before closing it.
Daryl & Taylon
“Ya hear that?” Daryl asks his lover while turning around. He figures so, since Taylon has sat up and looks as if he is trying to wake.
“I’ll have to get dressed.” Taylon says more to himself. “My goodness…” He murmurs half beneath his breath while rising. Then he catches his lover’s stare resting on him and flusters, reminding Daryl of a deer in headlights before looking away shyly. Just for a second though, returning his stare onto Daryl adoringly before Taylon bites his lip and smiles. Then he crosses the room to the closet.
Daryl finds himself growing cozily softer at the thought of how sweet Taylon is. His varying expressions have grown on the hunter after seeming plain back when they met. Daryl definitely thinks cute is a fair description. Though, when Taylon passes him, it does make Daryl think ‘what a fine ass.’
He pulls some garments off the keep pile that are steadfastly his style and begins to pull them on. Though he did not know Vindar and Verity well, he knew enough to feel like he ought to go to the wreath laying ceremony. To show his face, and be counted among them in this dark moment.
Maybe Tay will need him, too.
That protective need to safeguard Taylon comes from sensing that there will be tears, and like he had done last night, it feels like the task of wiping away those tears falls squarely on his shoulders. Just as pleasuring Tay is for him alone, so is guarding the softer man’s happiness, and cushioning his sadness. Daryl bites back an actual growl in his throat as the thought spurs an urge to act inside him, but there is nothing to do now but pull a leather vest over the shirt he had just put on.
Strange how instincts work now. That one was whip-like and sudden.
Like there is a sharper edge to certain feelings. A greater intensity. Yet others are missing or softened, like the lack of pain at certain injuries or how he had eased up on Bijou making him feel embarrassed. He had noticed the subtler changes that came with his death, but found it all balanced out.
Particularly with Taylon beside him.
Once they both dress - Daryl in black denim pants, a long sleeved black shirt, and a leather vest, and his lover in a casual black suit with a white shirt and long black tie - they head out together.
Tay pauses on the landing, waiting for the front door to close before walking down and grabbing Daryl’s cloak. The hunter raises a brow at him, bending his knees to make it easier for Taylon to put it on him. He watches the focus in his lover's stare while tying it carefully. Then Daryl flips up his hood before plucking up a gray cloak that looks about his lover’s height. “This yers?” Once Tay nods, Daryl slips it onto his lover’s shoulders, ties it, and then flips up the hood too.
“Thank you, my love.” Taylon murmurs to him. They both pull on their own gloves before heading outside with bowed heads. The sunlight is not terribly sharp, but its mere presence is enough when it is so close to midday.
The others are lingering out front, but Bijou walks back and takes hold of Taylon’s hand. Daryl instinctively falls back a step, watching the pair of them from behind. They tighten their arms on one another, and Bijou lays her head on Taylon’s shoulder.
The group moves now that it is complete, and Daryl follows.
He spots a couple of his people and gives them nods in passing, but only Rick approaches and falls into step with him as they walk along.
“Hey,” Daryl greets him.
“Hey. We’re checking out more of the place, if you have time.”
“We’re doing somethin’.” When Rick gives a curious stare, he elaborates. “Ceremony for Verity and Vindar.”
“After she took Judith?” Rick asks in minor surprise, the sound barely there but Daryl knows him well enough. He had not thought that Rick might still hold a grudge against Verity, even after death.
Then again, anyone that dared go for Judith would face his wrath.
Daryl supposes he should have said something more general but it is too late now. “An’ Vindar died t’ save ya. Yer point?”
“Just trying to figure things out.” Rick remarks quietly, slightly placated when he is reminded that both sides of the coin exist in the immortals. Verity might have done wrong, but Vindar did right; Both at great personal cost.
Besides, in the end Daryl thinks Verity was just a sick woman. Everything worked out - Judith was unharmed and Verity paid a fair price for putting the baby girl in harm’s way. It did not erase the years the group had known her, or their need to mourn.
Daryl has always thought these sorts of things are more for the living to mourn, than for the dead to be celebrated.
“I’m goin’ fer him.” Daryl decides to bluntly inform him of the truth, knowing that at the end of the day he wants to be there for Taylon. His lover could need a shoulder to cry on.
Daryl’s shoulders sag a little and a scowl settles over his face a second later as Rick throws him a small smile. He shakes his head a little, as if he has never heard Daryl talk like that.
“Maybe we see you later?” Rick asks instead, earning a nod from Daryl before the sheriff peels off and heads back to the heart of the community.
Daryl shoves his hands in his pockets, keeping Bijou and Taylon within sight as he acts as the group’s caboose. He catches up to the rest of them when they all stop at the gate. Rotterdam is there, having a word with Malifus, Adelaide and Ferdinand in a huddle. Shori and Merle are quietly talking off to the side. Daryl comes to Tay’s free side and watches him and Bijou. Her bouncy hair rests on his lover’s shoulder.
“Rotterdam is paying his respects now since someone must of course stay in the sanctuary.” Taylon tells him when their eyes meet.
Good. They’re takin’ their guard seriously.
It takes a couple of minutes but then they take off again, passing through the open gate. At one point Taylon kisses Bijou’s cheek, and moves ahead to clear a few walkers with song, before coming back and clasping her hand. They shift off the road, into the forest where the shade is plentiful and the birds sing freely.
Daryl is not certain what they are looking for, until he hears the soft bubbling of a stream. He can tell by its noisiness that it is an active one, and is proven right when they reach it. He sticks near his lover as the awkwardness starts to come over him. Daryl has never been good in social situations.
They stand astride the river and Tay rubs Bijou’s arm before she steps up to Malifus on the bank. So does Ferdinand. Then Malifus begins to speak in a somber, reverent tone. “We are here to remember two that have died again - Verity Brooke and Vindar Devi.”
As Malifus speaks, Daryl realizes Bijou is standing there for Verity, and Ferdinand is standing for Vindar. Each has a representative for the ceremony, which makes him think that should anything happen to one of them, that it would be him or Taylon standing up there. He steps closer to his lover as the dark thought takes over, sliding his arm around Tay’s waist.
They live for so long… an’ I might too. But we all get it in the end.
As expected, his lover turns and angles his chest towards Daryl’s. The shorter vampire leans in, encouraging Daryl to wrap both arms securely around him.
When Daryl glances beyond his lover, his breath sticks in his throat.
Not too many yards off, Merle is standing right beside Shori. He had barely paid his brother any attention on the walk in, but now Daryl’s stare is glued to him. The short, androgynous vampire has likewise turned and pressed his face into Merle’s chest and his brother is holding onto that slim waist. Not letting his hands wander, just holding Shori as his shoulders shake.
Comforting his… lover… not completely unlike Daryl is doing.
Hell, a lot like what he is doing. It sticks painfully in his throat to see any kind of similarity, and when Merle glances over and catches his eye, Daryl makes sure to throw his stare down at the ground.
Merle ain’t ever done that fer anyone. Not me.
Even when their mother had died when Daryl was young, Merle never physically comforted him. Never gave him an ounce of what Shori seems to have in droves.
Never said anything without tryin’ to be a dick.
The oddity of it consumes him for a second. Merle was never kind, to anyone.
Merle never dated, not really. He slept with very few chicks more than once, and usually it was because they wanted to ride his bike. That was the extent of it though. It was never anything beyond two dates usually, and sure as shit never emotional. He never showed up when they needed him. They never got him to lean on. Merle Dixon laughed at emotions all his life, and about giving a shit outside of anyone but himself.
No, Merle never gave a damn about anyone, and nobody had been long term for him. So, what the hell is this?
When Daryl glances back over a couple of minutes later, he spots Merle rubbing the small of Shori’s back with a hard-set expression. He cannot help but think that Merle might actually give a real damn about Shori, and maybe that is the strangest thing about today.
Notes:
Good news is, I sorted out the issues that were tripping me up in my main fic, the Outdoor Cat & Indoor Dog.
Bad news is, I have not written more of this fic yet. So the Good, the Bad, & the Bloody will be paused from now on, until when I get it finished. I still have DC (Death's Curtain), Mothman, more Merle & Shori, and the fate of the human group to get to!
I don't think the wait for another chapter will be terribly long (I did start it already!) but it will be more than the typical three days, but you guys know I write a lot & post a lot. Minus a little dabbling, these two fics have been all I've worked on since March. This won't be a long wait, but I want to finish this one strong so give me a little time & we'll get to chapter twenty-six!Comments appreciated!
Pages Navigation
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Thu 22 May 2025 06:05AM UTC
Last Edited Thu 22 May 2025 07:06AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 1 Thu 22 May 2025 08:18PM UTC
Last Edited Fri 23 May 2025 12:39AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Fri 23 May 2025 12:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 1 Fri 23 May 2025 01:44AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Fri 23 May 2025 03:36AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 1 Fri 23 May 2025 03:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Fri 23 May 2025 09:01AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 1 Fri 23 May 2025 08:26PM UTC
Last Edited Fri 23 May 2025 08:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Fri 23 May 2025 10:34PM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 1 Sat 24 May 2025 01:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Sat 24 May 2025 11:13PM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 1 Sun 25 May 2025 12:53AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 25 May 2025 01:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Sun 25 May 2025 01:42AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 1 Sun 25 May 2025 03:51AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Sun 25 May 2025 04:30AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 1 Tue 27 May 2025 12:52PM UTC
Last Edited Tue 27 May 2025 12:52PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Wed 28 May 2025 02:13AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 1 Wed 28 May 2025 03:15AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Wed 28 May 2025 06:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 1 Wed 28 May 2025 11:50PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Thu 29 May 2025 01:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 1 Sun 01 Jun 2025 12:12AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Mon 02 Jun 2025 02:03AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 1 Mon 02 Jun 2025 02:27AM UTC
Last Edited Mon 02 Jun 2025 02:31AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Mon 02 Jun 2025 03:12AM UTC
Last Edited Mon 02 Jun 2025 03:14AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 1 Mon 02 Jun 2025 03:41AM UTC
Last Edited Mon 02 Jun 2025 03:42AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 1 Mon 02 Jun 2025 06:59AM UTC
Last Edited Mon 02 Jun 2025 07:20AM UTC
Comment Actions
(12 more comments in this thread)
NikkiOh on Chapter 2 Sat 24 May 2025 12:32AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 2 Sat 24 May 2025 01:25PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 2 Sat 24 May 2025 11:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 2 Sun 25 May 2025 12:45AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 2 Sun 25 May 2025 01:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 2 Sun 25 May 2025 01:15AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 2 Sun 25 May 2025 01:45AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 25 May 2025 01:46AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 2 Sun 25 May 2025 01:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 2 Sun 25 May 2025 02:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 2 Sun 25 May 2025 02:05AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 3 Sun 25 May 2025 05:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 3 Tue 27 May 2025 12:57PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 3 Wed 28 May 2025 02:17AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 3 Wed 28 May 2025 03:17AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 3 Wed 28 May 2025 06:01AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 3 Wed 28 May 2025 11:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 3 Thu 29 May 2025 02:11AM UTC
Comment Actions
sapphio on Chapter 3 Sun 25 May 2025 08:29AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 3 Tue 27 May 2025 12:59PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 4 Wed 28 May 2025 07:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 4 Wed 28 May 2025 11:41PM UTC
Last Edited Thu 29 May 2025 01:08AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 4 Thu 29 May 2025 01:48AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 4 Sun 01 Jun 2025 12:08AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 4 Mon 02 Jun 2025 01:50AM UTC
Last Edited Mon 02 Jun 2025 01:52AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 4 Wed 04 Jun 2025 02:03AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 4 Wed 04 Jun 2025 05:33AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 4 Wed 04 Jun 2025 06:21PM UTC
Last Edited Wed 04 Jun 2025 06:22PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 4 Thu 05 Jun 2025 01:26AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 4 Sun 08 Jun 2025 08:05PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 4 Sat 14 Jun 2025 04:18AM UTC
Last Edited Sat 14 Jun 2025 04:20AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 4 Sat 14 Jun 2025 11:50PM UTC
Last Edited Sat 14 Jun 2025 11:50PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 4 Sun 15 Jun 2025 05:33AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 15 Jun 2025 05:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 4 Mon 16 Jun 2025 01:37AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 4 Wed 18 Jun 2025 07:31AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 5 Mon 02 Jun 2025 07:19AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 5 Wed 04 Jun 2025 01:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 5 Wed 04 Jun 2025 05:16AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 5 Wed 04 Jun 2025 06:03PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 5 Thu 05 Jun 2025 01:12AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 5 Sun 08 Jun 2025 07:49PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 5 Sat 14 Jun 2025 03:48AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 5 Sat 14 Jun 2025 11:32PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 5 Sun 15 Jun 2025 05:19AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 5 Sun 15 Jun 2025 11:57PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 6 Wed 04 Jun 2025 06:14AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 6 Wed 04 Jun 2025 07:09PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 6 Thu 05 Jun 2025 02:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 6 Fri 06 Jun 2025 12:20AM UTC
Comment Actions
Lilapple (Guest) on Chapter 7 Fri 06 Jun 2025 08:15AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 7 Fri 06 Jun 2025 07:25PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 7 Sat 07 Jun 2025 04:51AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 7 Sun 08 Jun 2025 08:18PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 7 Sat 14 Jun 2025 04:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
sapphio on Chapter 8 Fri 06 Jun 2025 09:38PM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 8 Fri 06 Jun 2025 10:49PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 8 Sat 07 Jun 2025 05:28AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 8 Sun 08 Jun 2025 08:22PM UTC
Last Edited Sun 08 Jun 2025 08:40PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 8 Thu 12 Jun 2025 02:03AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 8 Thu 12 Jun 2025 07:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 8 Sat 14 Jun 2025 05:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 8 Sat 14 Jun 2025 01:24PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 8 Sun 15 Jun 2025 04:38AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 8 Sun 15 Jun 2025 11:56PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 8 Wed 18 Jun 2025 06:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 8 Thu 19 Jun 2025 02:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
SuperStar69 on Chapter 9 Mon 09 Jun 2025 10:52PM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 9 Tue 10 Jun 2025 08:05PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 9 Thu 12 Jun 2025 01:33AM UTC
Last Edited Thu 12 Jun 2025 01:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 9 Thu 12 Jun 2025 07:17PM UTC
Last Edited Thu 12 Jun 2025 07:17PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 9 Sat 14 Jun 2025 03:40AM UTC
Last Edited Sat 14 Jun 2025 05:04AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 9 Sat 14 Jun 2025 11:31PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 9 Sun 15 Jun 2025 05:12AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 9 Mon 16 Jun 2025 12:03AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 9 Wed 18 Jun 2025 07:06AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 9 Thu 19 Jun 2025 03:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
Airam91 on Chapter 10 Tue 10 Jun 2025 08:56PM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 10 Wed 11 Jun 2025 11:38AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 10 Thu 12 Jun 2025 01:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 10 Thu 12 Jun 2025 07:20PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 10 Sat 14 Jun 2025 05:05AM UTC
Last Edited Sat 14 Jun 2025 05:05AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 10 Sat 14 Jun 2025 01:13PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 10 Sun 15 Jun 2025 04:22AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 10 Sun 15 Jun 2025 04:38AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 11 Sat 14 Jun 2025 05:42AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 11 Sat 14 Jun 2025 01:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 11 Sun 15 Jun 2025 04:40AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 15 Jun 2025 04:41AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 11 Sun 15 Jun 2025 04:56AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 11 Sun 15 Jun 2025 04:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 11 Sun 15 Jun 2025 05:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 11 Sun 15 Jun 2025 05:03AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 11 Sun 15 Jun 2025 05:31AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 11 Sun 15 Jun 2025 05:46AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 11 Mon 16 Jun 2025 12:06AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 11 Wed 18 Jun 2025 07:08AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 12 Sun 15 Jun 2025 04:16AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 15 Jun 2025 04:16AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 13 Sun 15 Jun 2025 05:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 13 Sun 15 Jun 2025 05:24AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 13 Sun 15 Jun 2025 07:40AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 15 Jun 2025 08:10AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 13 Mon 16 Jun 2025 02:33AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 13 Wed 18 Jun 2025 08:05AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 13 Thu 19 Jun 2025 03:36AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 14 Thu 19 Jun 2025 03:27AM UTC
Last Edited Thu 19 Jun 2025 06:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 14 Fri 20 Jun 2025 04:04AM UTC
Last Edited Fri 20 Jun 2025 04:06AM UTC
Comment Actions
NikkiOh on Chapter 14 Fri 20 Jun 2025 04:30AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anonymous Creator on Chapter 14 Fri 20 Jun 2025 02:23PM UTC
Last Edited Fri 20 Jun 2025 10:27PM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation