Chapter Text
The walk back was surreal.
Rick's mind was reeling between exhilaration and disgust. The disgust wasn't aimed at Daryl at all, but at himself, for what he'd allowed himself to do. He'd given in to a terrible impulse and he couldn't even imagine what was going through Daryl's head right now. He'd beat him, effectively raped him. And now the man was quietly following him back to the prison as if nothing strange had happened at all.
Daryl hadn't said another word since they'd started walking, just kept pace very slightly behind him, probably so there wouldn't even be accidental eye contact.
Rick knew he'd been horribly abused as a kid, not from his words but in the scars that marked his back and chest, in the way he would tense up whenever he saw him show anger at Lori or Carl, even though it was only ever verbal. In Daryl's family he was pretty sure that would have only been a warm up.
Was that why he was taking it so well, was he that used to being abused?
He hadn't imagined his hard-on though. He had to remind himself, that's what had egged him on. And that look in his eyes, so raw and wanting. And he hadn't resisted, not even a little, once he had gotten him on the ground.
Still, he'd been handcuffed. Maybe just too shocked to react properly. Maybe Daryl was still in shock, maybe he'd let loose on him unexpectedly once he came to his senses. It was a fact that sometimes people orgasmed even during a sexual assault, it was very possible that he had read it all wrong. His stomach was already in knots about it. It didn't make him feel better that he'd never been so turned on in his life.
Lost in thought, he barely heard Daryl mutter "S'it broken ?" His voice was soft and almost sounded remorseful.
Rick was so preoccupied he had almost forgotten about the throbbing pain in his face , but he already realized his nose was just bruised. It was swelling up something awful, but he'd be fine. He shook his head slightly, no, glancing over at the hunter briefly to get a read on him.
He wasn't looking back at him, so Rick said out loud "It's fine," surprised that Daryl could even be thinking about that right now, considering what else had happened.
They continued on without speaking until Daryl broke the silence again.
"Wasn't really leavin'," he mumbled.
"I know," Rick replied, not knowing what else to say.
"Next time you ain't gotta come after me, ain't worth the risk, " Daryl continued, his voice slightly gruff but still soft. Not a hint of anger.
"You sayin' you're better out here alone than I am ?" Rick asked teasingly, responding as he would've before. Right away he felt stupid for the light-hearted tone, but he couldn't help but try to deflect attention away from what he'd done. He couldn't believe how calm Daryl seemed.
"Think we both know the answer to that," Daryl muttered, that cocky, slightly sarcastic tone back in his voice, though his eyes were still on the ground in front of him. He hadn't looked up once since they'd started back.
Rick laughed slightly, relieved that Daryl seemed to be trying to make it ok, make it normal between them again, the same way he was wanting to. But the rest of the way back he was afraid to say another word, and Daryl too stayed silent. For now, it was enough for Rick that the other man didn't seem angry or hurt.
He tried not to let himself start thinking of what it might take to make something like that happen again, or to desperately hope that Daryl might want that too.
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The next couple of days Daryl avoided Rick. It wasn't hard, there was always plenty of stuff to do around the prison and Rick had his hands full with Carl anyway.
But mostly it was because he had no idea how to behave around the man now.
He'd kept his cool on the walk back to the prison together but inside his head was a confused mess.
You're gonna stay there and take what I give you. He heard Rick's voice in his mind, making him cringe with humiliation at how he'd obeyed, stayed there and let Rick expose him and whip him like that and then after, fuck, he'd been so hard it hurt, and he didn't want it to end there. Rick could have done whatever he wanted to him and he didn't think he would have tried to stop him.
Laying in his bunk that first night, his face burned just thinking of how it had felt to have Rick inside him. How the hell did Rick know he could just do that to him ? Then he remembered Rick's hand sliding over his erection when he'd stripped him and felt sick with embarrassment again. Nevermind that Rick had been just as aroused, it was normal for a man to want to stick his dick into something. Merle had known dudes in prison who'd done that and they weren't really gay on the outside.
Maybe Rick just lost his shit because of the pain, Daryl thought. It hurt like hell to take a headbutt to the face. And he'd been a dick to him right before that, even bringing up Carl and the problems Rick was having with him. Maybe Rick didn't want to actually hurt him back the same way so he'd beat him like the punk he'd been acting like. But no, that really didn't explain it at all...
As soon as Rick had brought that strap down on him he'd been so stunned he couldn't even react. He'd gotten whippings all through his childhood but this wasn't anything like that at all. Something about Rick, with all that anger and frustration and lust focused on him and only him, as if for that moment he was actually worth all that attention, froze him to the ground, made him want to stay exactly where Rick had put him. There'd been no one but the two of them in that moment, no Lori, no Carl, no new prison residents or pressing duties. The pain didn't even feel like pain, it felt like Rick making him understand that he wasn't going to let him act like he could come and go as he pleased anymore, that he was willing to track him down and drag him back if necessary.
He should have been furious, should have wanted to pummel Rick into the ground. Instead his dick was throbbing so hard it hurt and it hadn't felt wrong at all. He wanted to take whatever Rick gave him then, and he didn't understand how he could be wanting something so humiliating, but he couldn't even think on it because then Rick had been right next to him, putting his hands on him like he knew exactly what he was doing. It felt like Rick had taken the control of his own body away from him and it felt better than anything he'd ever felt before.
Now he realized he had wanted Rick all along, practically since the time he'd taken him back to Atlanta to find Merle, just couldn't have admitted it, even to himself. He respected Rick, more than anyone. No way would he think about him that way. And he never would've thought in a million years that Rick wanted anything from him but his skills as a hunter and a fighter.
With all the new faces around, he'd started to feel like he wasn't all that important anymore, and he didn't know how to deal with that so he'd done like he always did when he was hurt and confused, ran off and then lashed out when Rick had cornered him.
But now he knew he could have a use to Rick, a use Herschel or Carol or Glenn couldn't replace. Hell, that Michonne couldn't even replace.
The next day, Carol had joined him for breakfast at one of the communal outdoor tables and he'd barely been able to listen to her. Rick was standing nearby giving orders to some of the newbies, delegating some of the less dangerous tasks, and the sound of his voice all confident and commanding took his mind somewhere else entirely.
He hadn't even realized he was staring until Rick had turned his head briefly and met his gaze full on for the first time since they'd come back, and he was too much of a pussy not to duck his head and flush so red that Carol had to ask him if something was wrong.
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Rick couldn't keep his eyes off Daryl. He watched him out in the yard, clearing walkers from the fences. Watched him bend under the hood of a car, tuning up some of their stockpile of vehicles. His eyes lingered on that sight a little too long, remembering the last time he'd seen him bent over, and felt his cock twitch traitorously at the memory.
He was smart enough to be discreet about it, but he just couldn't look at Daryl at all now without feeling an aching need start to pool in his groin. It even sent a jolt of arousal through him seeing Daryl shift uncomfortably on one of the benches in their outdoor eating area, knowing that he had been the cause and that Daryl would be remembering it at that moment too.
A long time ago, Lori had wanted him to be rough, asking for it in a slightly teasing way, so that he wasn't really sure how serious she was. And he'd tried, flipping her over, gripping her from behind, fucking her at his pace, not hers. It had turned her on, but not enough. She wanted more, and he knew then that all his fantasies were not going to be fulfilled with her the way he hoped they might.
Maybe it was how he was raised, that women belonged on a pedestal, or because she was so pretty and delicate, and because she was Carl's mother, but it wasn't a turn on for him to overpower her, have her submit to him, or to beat her ass until she squirmed. And the few times he had the desire, he just wasn't able to let go like that with her.
He was different now. What he'd done to Daryl felt closer to the time when he'd shot those men in the bar by Herschel's farm, when his gut had told him what to do and he'd listened to it without thinking. Or when he'd split Tomas' scull open with a machete.
His body did what it wanted to even if his mind hadn't had the chance to give its permission yet.
The difference was, Daryl was still here, and with his rational thought restored, Rick didn't know what to do with these urges that had come to the surface. All he could think about was how thrilling it felt that Daryl seemed to have wanted it just as bad once they got started.
He'd been trying to ignore his attraction to Daryl for the past few months. He wasn't sure when it started but something about the way this normally rough and contentious man seemed willing to follow his lead unquestioningly and almost seemed eager to do whatever he asked got to him in the basest sort of way. After awhile Rick took to telling not asking, and it only made Daryl seem more willing. Over the months they spent together even the tone of voice Daryl sometimes used with him changed. It was softer, almost submissive at times.
One night he caught himself watching Daryl absent-mindedly sucking barbecue sauce off his fingers after they'd had a good hunt and the group was relaxing and eating around the fire. The image of Daryl's mouth on his cock sprang into his head, and he immediately shook it out, startled. Lori had still been there next to him and he'd felt like a pervert, what with Carl also a few feet away.
The image hadn't left him, though. It came back many times after that, Daryl on his knees in front of him, or crawling up the bottom of his bedroll and diving his head under the covers to pleasure him. Daryl was as silent in his fantasies as he was mostly in real life, but the idea of him greedily sucking his cock like it was all he wanted to do started making him able to come in half the time it normally took him those days. It wasn't like he hadn't briefly fantasized about Shane when they were younger, but he had chalked that up to some youthful confusion on his part. Besides, he reasoned, didn't most men have crazy fantasies they wouldn't act on in the real world ?
After Lori passed, those feelings had evaporated, or at least gone into hiding. He'd come to really care for Daryl. He was good with his kids, he backed him up with whatever he needed done, and had even forgiven him for Merle.
There was a tension between them, though, that only got stronger as they spent more time together. It seemed to make Daryl irritable and short with him, but Rick found he didn't mind. If anything, it made him start fantasizing again, but sometimes the scenarios were a little darker.
Shoving Daryl roughly over the hood of his old squad car, kicking his legs apart, pinning him down against the hard metal and fucking him senseless. Handcuffing him to the prison bars and stripping him naked, finally getting to see what was underneath those dirty clothes he wore like armor against anyone getting too close. In his mind, it didn't matter if Daryl consented, just that he got off on it too eventually. It was ok, because it wasn't like he had any intentions of making it reality.
When Daryl had run off without warning though, something in him snapped. The worry twisted his gut, and even though he knew the man could take care of himself and likely would've been back soon like every other time, he was furious that he felt so powerless to stop the man from taking so many unnecessary risks, and that Daryl didn't seem to give a damn who worried about him. He knew if Daryl hadn't pushed him, hadn't attacked him, hadn't looked at him the way he did, like he was daring him to prove something, that he wouldn't have lost control of himself.
Now that he knew the little whimpers Daryl made when he was getting close, knew how he nearly sobbed when he came, it took all his willpower to go about the business of setting up a prison government, coordinating runs, and spending enough time with his son to keep him on the straight and narrow, instead of trying to contrive a way to get with Daryl again. He was too old and had too many responsibilities to be obsessing on something so selfish.
Daryl seemed to be keeping his distance anyway, so Rick decided he'd let him for the time being, as long as he was staying put. What they'd done was not only gay but fucking kinky, and he was pretty sure Daryl was even less comfortable with both of those things than he was. He was having enough trouble trying to figure out what had gone wrong in his brain that he'd been able to do a thing like that, and the fact that he couldn't stop getting hard just thinking about it told him he really didn't have a problem with it at all, even though he knew he should. And that worried him even more.
His grip on reality had been a little slippery ever since he'd lost Lori but he couldn't even begin to understand how Daryl was thinking about it. All he knew was that he wouldn't force his presence on Daryl until he knew the right way to proceed. The last thing he wanted was to permanently destroy the trust they'd developed over the last year, any more than he had already.
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After several days, Daryl found himself craving Rick's attention. It was wearing on him, that the man was avoiding him. It started to piss him off, that it was Rick who had made the move, Rick who'd decided to change everything, who'd taken all the control, and then just backed off like nothing happened.
Problem was, he was so embarrassed he could barely look at Rick, let alone pick a fight with him. It was one thing for Rick to have handcuffed him, pushed him down, whipped him and fucked him. It was way worse that he wanted it to happen again.
He hated how he couldn't feel comfortable around the man anymore. He was used to their relationship the way it was. He'd pretty much become Rick's right hand man, the one he looked to to handle shit when he had other things to do, and he'd been fine with that. Happy with it, even. He wondered now if Rick was disgusted by how he'd let himself be treated.
That long winter after they lost the farm, Daryl had grown accustomed to being at Rick's side, hunting, going on runs, providing for their little group as if they were his family too. When he thought about it now, he remembered feeling things for Rick that he shouldn't even then, especially when he saw how confident he was, teaching them all how to move in formation, clear homes quickly and effectively, and how he actually was a pretty good hunter himself, even if his tracking skills were a little lacking.
Somehow when Rick was at the top of his game, issuing orders and expecting to see them carried out, guiding them through all sorts of danger, keeping their confidence up when it started to flag, it got his attention like nothing else.
He didn't mind at all when Rick would use that firm commanding tone with him, the one that assumed he would just be obeyed. He wasn't bothered when Rick ordered him to take an all night watch, or told him not to go off and hunt alone, or to stay close when they cleared a house. A couple of times he started to hear that voice in his head, when he was alone and wanting to stroke his dick, to relieve the stress and be able to settle in and fall asleep.
He didn't though, not even knowing where to take it at the time, and feeling so creepy about it that he banished those thoughts from his mind. But now, the sound of Rick's voice ordering him to do all sorts of things found its way into his head every time he was unoccupied and it took all his willpower not to give in to the urge to jerk off. When he finally did, he wound up coming in a matter of seconds , and all he'd had time to conjure up was the image of Rick, in his old sheriff's uniform, ordering him to strip. Lying in his bunk alone after the fact, he felt disgusting.
It didn't take long for Rick to start dealing with him again, asking his help with security around the prison, and with planning runs. It was always where other people were around though, never just the two of them alone. Rick seemed distant, couldn't really look him in the face, and while that wasn't such a strange thing for Daryl, it wasn't like Rick at all.
It hurt, and feeling that way always made him angry. So he found himself snapping at Rick whenever the other man tried to engage him , his tone more abrasive than he even meant it to be. He was as dismissive and irritable with his responses as he was with the new people he barely knew. Rick seemed to take it in stride, not reacting hostilely but not pushing to find out why. And that just made Daryl feel worse.
He was angry with himself most of all. If he hadn't provoked Rick so bad to begin with, he wouldn't have temporarily lost his mind and done something he obviously now regretted. He should have just sucked it up and dealt with his own frustrations without imposing them on Rick by acting out. Did he really think he had the right to distract Rick from his family and from all the other important shit he had to take care of around here just because he'd been in a shitty mood ?
He wished he knew a way to fix it between them but he'd never been good with words and the more Rick acted like nothing about this even fazed him, he only got angrier.
As shameful as it was, part of him was just hoping Rick would get sick of his shit again and just let loose on him like last time.
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Rick figured out pretty quick that Daryl was trying to provoke him.
He was being such an asshole there was no way it wasn't on purpose. Daryl was never one to mince words when he was pissed about something, but this was different. He didn't confront Rick about what had happened, but he was short and snappish when they spoke, sullen and irritable if he asked him to do anything. He'd still do it, because Daryl would always do what he asked even if he was a total dick while doing it, but it almost felt like he was dealing with Carl.
It made him near giddy with anticipation. Maybe he'd been right that Daryl had gotten off on it just as much, and this was the only way he could express it, by trying to make it happen again. It's not like he expected Daryl to come have a conversation with him about it. Once he thought it through, he decided he'd look for an opening somewhere. It wouldn't be easy with how crowded it was here.
He was on his way to C-block to turn in for the night when he caught the sound of Carol and Daryl's voices ahead and slowed his approach to get a chance to eavesdrop.
He felt a little silly for the tiny spark of jealousy seeing them together always brought on. The two of them had gotten close and Daryl seemed to feel an ease with her that he never seemed to find with him. He knew Carol would've jumped on Daryl in a heartbeat if he'd showed the slightest inclination. At least now he knew his jealousy was a wasted sentiment there.
It didn't seem to be going so well between them right now.
"I just wanted to know if you were ok," Carol was saying, There was hurt in her tone, indicating he'd already put her on the defensive.
"Don't need you hoverin' over me all the time," Daryl practically snarled at her. "why don't you go take care'a them girls ? They need you, I don't." The last bit was said so scornfully Rick's temper flared. Carol took care of his daughter, she worked her ass off for everyone here. She didn't need to be the misplaced target of Daryl's frustration.
He sped up to approach them. Carol had already left Daryl's side and Rick saw her stalking away towards her cell, her back rigid, arms wrapping themselves around her thin torso. Daryl was leaning up against the concrete wall where she'd left him, his forehead resting wearily in one hand, his other arm wrapped around his body almost protectively, a mirror image of the way Carol had folded in on herself at Daryl's unexpected nastiness.
Rick could read the remorse in his posture. He hadn't meant to snap at her but he was like a cornered animal when he was upset. The guilt that bubbled up over that swallowed up his irritation. He was the one who had caused this trouble, he had to keep remembering that.
Daryl half glanced up at Rick, hearing him approach, but didn't say anything, instead lowering his eyes and dropping his forehead into his hand again. He didn't walk away though.
"Do you even realize what an asshole you've been the last few days ?" Rick asked, settling his back against the wall next to Daryl.
The younger man shifted his weight so their shoulders wouldn't touch. He shrugged, tossed his head slightly, like he couldn't give a shit.
Rick didn't buy that for a second. He was no better at masking his emotions than Carl was, really. But he had to keep in mind what had happened, that if he was wrong, Daryl had every right to hold it against him. All the times he'd thought Daryl might be attracted to him, the times when he seemed flustered at any prolonged physical closeness, the times when he seemed so eager for any hint of his approval, the fact that his was the only company he never turned down -he might have ruined all of that completely by mistaking Daryl's physical arousal alone for consent.
"Look, what I did back there was way out of line, " he started softly. "The way it happened, it was...wrong... "
"S'fine, just forget it," Daryl muttered irritably.
"I can't forget it," Rick said insistently. " You had every right to knock me out. Or worse. "
"Damn right," Daryl snapped back, his eyes still on his feet.
"But you didn't."
A long silence stretched between them. Daryl started chewing on his lower lip nervously, pushed himself off the wall, and didn't seem to know if he wanted to blow up at him, walk off, or something in between. Rick watched him fidgeting until he couldn't take the tension any longer. "So you got nothin' you wanna say to me ?" he asked finally.
The two of them had long communicated all sorts of things to one another without words when they hunted, when they fought side by side, when they were out scouting before they'd found the prison. When Daryl finally looked up at him his eyes were pleading, as if he wanted nothing more than for Rick to read his thoughts so he wouldn't have to say anything. He looked wounded, embarrassed, but nothing in that look seemed to be pushing Rick away.
He realized he was starting to get hard as his mind started considering the possibility that this might turn out the way he hoped it could.
He had to do something to know for sure, one way or the other. He couldn't keep things like this, with them barely able to face eachother. And if he was right about what Daryl had gotten off on, being soft about it wasn't the right tactic to use.
"Way I see it you have two options," Rick said, falling back on the calm, authoritative tone he used to use on suspects, the one he'd used on him the very first time they'd met, after Daryl had attacked him.
"One, you drop the angry teenager bullshit and we go right back to the way it was before. " He didn't bother to elaborate on what 'before' meant when it was so plainly obvious. "Or two, you get your ass down to the generator room right now and you wait for me there."
He watched as Daryl took in those words. That in itself made his cock stiffen even more, the way he glared at him indignantly but just as quickly slid his eyes away and swallowed nervously, looking like he just couldn't figure out how to keep looking tough or nonchalant now.
Then Rick played it cool, heading off towards his own cell without another glance at him.
By the time he got to his quarters, his heart was racing as he realized there was a pretty good chance he might find Daryl waiting for him downstairs if he kept his nerve long enough to check.
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It had taken Daryl about twenty seconds for his stunned brain to react to Rick's words, for his legs to stop feeling so rubbery all of a sudden that he thought he might not be able to walk straight. There was not a second of doubt in his mind what his choice was though.
Now he was pacing the length of the generator room, chewing on a ragged thumbnail while he tried to get his heart to stop pounding so hard. He didn't know what to expect from Rick at all.
Fuck, he was so hard now. He tried to find a way to settle himself in his jeans so it wasn't so obvious.
What the hell was taking Rick so long ? Was he taking his sweet time on purpose ? It had to have been like five minutes already. He said "right now", what, he couldn't be bothered to hurry up himself ?
Ain't waitin' here like a bitch all night, he thought, temper rising along with his anxiety. Then Rick was coming through the door and Daryl started to panic a little, not ready for this at all now, whatever "this" was.
The Rick that stepped into the room wasn't the same Rick from upstairs though. Daryl could tell his mood had changed. He looked thoughtful and a little tired, not like the man who had given him an ultimatum that made all the blood rush to his head and made him forget all about how ashamed he'd felt about what he'd been wanting.
His stomach felt queasy all of a sudden. This was the Rick that was regretting all of it, he thought. He was humiliated by how horny he'd gotten, but at least that sickening feeling made his erection flag a bit so it wasn't as obvious.
Rick was standing there not too far into the room, hands on his hips, head down. Probably thinking of the best way to tell him they needed to forget all about that crazy shit and go back to worrying about keeping this place running right.
He started feeling angry all over again, at letting himself get his hopes up that Rick might actually want him like that, and at Rick for making him feel that way in the first place if he was just going to pull the rug out from under him after.
"So what do you want ?" Daryl said finally, unable to contain his impatience.
Rick's head jerked up at that. He laughed a little. "Didn't expect you'd make this easy," he said, shaking his head.
Rick kept his eyes on him, and Daryl started to feel naked under that stare, like the other man could just see all the perverted shit he'd been thinking. It made him fidget restlessly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Part of him wanted to bolt from the room, the other part was rooted to the floor, desperately hoping.
"I want you to say it, " he heard Rick say firmly. " So there's no mistake, no bullshit. Tell me you want this. "
His stomach flipped. Rick sounded so calm. How the fuck was he so calm ? His own throat was so tight he could barely swallow, let alone speak. Rick was waiting though, apparently he had to actually say something.
Want this so fucking bad, he thought. But he couldn't bring himself to sound that pathetic out loud.
"M'still standin' here, ain't I ?" he snapped instead.
"Yeah." Rick said. He almost looked amused. "You are."
He stepped closer to Daryl, enough that they weren't even two feet apart. Anyone else that close always set off his defenses but right now he was dying for Rick to lay his hands on him again. He didn't even care how.
"Bend over the table," Rick ordered then, his voice husky. His eyes indicated the long work table that had been set against one wall.
Daryl blinked, startled. His cock swelled at those words but his heart started hammering in his chest and he hesitated again, his eyes on a piece of floor to the side of Rick's boots. This ain't normal, the voice in his head was telling him.
"You changing your mind ?" Rick challenged.
Daryl let his eyes meet Rick's briefly. He'd never seen him look at him like that. Shit, he'd never seen him look at anyone like that. Like he fucking owned him.
He moved. Slowly, over to the table Rick had nodded at. He stood there facing it , uncertain how to continue without knowing what was going to happen, hands drifting to his belt buckle, wondering if Rick wanted him to take down his jeans. He stopped, his face growing hot as he remembered he was still marked where Rick had whipped him.
He heard a loud metallic click and turned around to see that Rick had walked to the door and was locking them in. Suddenly he could barely breathe.
Rick turned back to him. "Thought I told you to bend over that table ?" he asked. His voice was only slightly playful.
Daryl swallowed hard. His mouth had gone dry. "So I just gotta do whatever you say now ?" he muttered thickly. He didn't even know why he asked the question, it was all he wanted to do now.
Rick started back towards him, his steps slow and deliberate. "You got a problem with that ?" he asked sternly. The look on his face was so intense Daryl dropped his eyes again. His cock started to throb though, and he found himself turning slowly around to face the wall behind the table again, his body almost acting on its own. But something in him still resisted actually bending over like that. He couldn't help thinking Rick would think less of him if he did. How couldn't he ? Despite how hard he was he started to lose his nerve. If he fucked this up, how could they even begin to make things normal between them again ? How the hell would he be able to face him at all ?
"Daryl. Turn around." Rick's voice was deep and soothing all of a sudden.
He realized he'd been clutching the table edge so hard his knuckles were turning white. He let go and turned, and before he knew what was happening Rick was pulling him close by the shoulders and kissing him. He hadn't been kissed by anyone in years and this was so different than kissing some drunk bitch outside a seedy bar. The feel of Rick's tongue as it slipped between his lips and met his own was like an electric shock through his body. Rick's mouth on his was bruising, possessive, and all of his doubts about the other man not wanting this just as bad went out the window. It took him a couple of seconds to remember to start kissing back and when he did Rick's grip on him tightened almost painfully. Daryl couldn't help but moan and thrust against him, forgetting how shameful this was. Without warning, Rick broke them apart, spinning Daryl around and shoving him roughly over the table.
"Stay down," Rick said gruffly, pressing a hand down on the middle of Daryl's back. Daryl felt an irrational urge to resist, just to feel Rick push down harder and tell him not to move again but his urge to obey was stronger now and he remained frozen exactly where he'd been pushed.
Rick's hands slipped underneath him to unbuckle his belt and undo his fly. He seemed to be fumbling a bit so Daryl moved his hands down, eager to help now.
"Hands on the table," Rick growled.
Daryl obeyed immediately, snatching his hands away and bringing his palms to rest on the surface.
"Keep 'em there." Rick ordered, and Daryl felt like he could almost come just from listening to that voice.
A distant voice in his head was trying to tell him to stop this, to realize how fucked up it was to let himself be treated like this, but he was too drunk with arousal to pay much attention to it.
Rick's hands brushed over his cock while he got his pants undone and he whimpered slightly at the sudden contact with his oversensitized flesh, afraid he might just lose it if Rick got handy too fast.
He felt his jeans slide down over his hips, felt the cool air hit his bare skin, revealing all those faded welts from the other day. For a second Daryl wanted to run from the shame of it, but then Rick made a low, throaty moan as his hand smoothed over his ass and he stilled, relieved by the sound of Rick's approval. The hand moved off him and he heard Rick undoing his own pants behind him.
He waited, legs trembling, cock leaking precome. His jeans had fallen around his ankles but he didn't dare move to pull them up or step out of them.
Rick didn't make him wait long but he didn't loosen him up with his fingers first this time. Instead, he felt hands pulling him open, tightly gripping his ass on either side. Daryl squirmed at being exposed like that but he forced himself to stay down like he was told, gasping as he felt himself breached by the head of Rick's cock. He could feel the lubrication and he knew then that Rick had already known how this would go, that he had set this up, and there was a relief in that, knowing Rick had a plan for this too, like everything else.
Rick leaned over him, groaning into his back as he fully entered. Daryl shuddered as Rick's length brushed against that sensitive spot inside as he started to fuck him slowly, opening him up enough that he could take him all in. His own cock was aching from the lack of contact, bobbing between his legs and the table, and he wondered if Rick meant to do this to him, make him so needy by leaving his cock unattended that he couldn't control the way his hips were twitching every time he hit that spot, couldn't keep from gasping at each intense jolt of sensation. He longed to move one hand from where it was planted on the table and just relieve some of the building pressure, but Rick had been pretty clear on that so he found himself trying to trap his dick against the table edge just a little, to feel some kind of friction. It wasn't working and before he knew what he was doing he slid a hand down between his legs to rub his throbbing dick.
Rick suddenly leaned up off him and smacked his ass, hard. "What did I say ?" he asked harshly. It didn't really sound like a question.
Daryl jumped, startled by the pain of the blow and the way it made his muscle tighten sharply around Rick's cock, but more startled by how it made him obediently drag his hand off his cock to rest it back on the table, so close to coming now he couldn't even see straight.
Rick stopped moving then, fully sheathed inside him, and Daryl squirmed against him uncontrollably, a pathetic little whine escaping his lips before he could help it.
It seemed like Rick was trying to keep himself from losing it too, the way his breathing sounded so heavy and erratic, the way Daryl could feel his cock pulsing inside of him.
He felt Rick's hand close over him and he gasped and jerked his hips involuntarily, moaned softly as Rick ran his fingers over the leaking tip of his dick.
A second later Rick brought those fingers to his mouth. "Clean them off, " he ordered, his voice almost unrecognizable it was so hoarse and strained.
Daryl responded without thinking, parting his lips to let Rick slip his first two fingers into his mouth. He sucked at them, tasting his own salty bitterness against his tongue. Rick let out a moan and slowly started to draw in and out of him again, each stroke against that little spot making him shudder helplessly on the edge of coming. He started thinking of Rick's cock in his mouth instead, the thickness forcing his lips wider.
In his mind he could almost hear Rick ordering him onto his knees, telling him to swallow every drop. He felt Rick's other hand close around his aching member again as he started to pound into him faster and deeper. The pace quickened until suddenly Daryl's vision was blacking out and he was coming, whimpering around the fingers still in his mouth as he thrust erratically into Rick's palm.
Rick pulled his fingers from his mouth so he could brace himself with his hand on the table as he started to lose it. Daryl felt the other man's seed flooding into him and he pushed back against him, clenching around him tightly, wanting to give Rick as much sensation as he could, and he thrilled at the obscene moan that forced out of the man.
After, Rick collapsed over him, the heat of his body warm against Daryl's back. Daryl felt him rest his forehead between his shoulder blades as he caught his breath. Rick slipped out of him now that he was spent and Daryl felt the come leaking out of him, felt the wetness dripping down his thighs. His own mess had wound up partially soaking into the front hem of his shirt.
Now that he came he felt filthy, and not just his body. What the hell was Rick thinking of him now, after all that ? He was dreading straightening up and facing him, full of his seed, and the taste of his own come in his mouth.
"We should get cleaned up, get back upstairs," Rick said, his voice still husky as he lifted himself off of Daryl. " They'll be wondering where we are."
Daryl had completely forgotten about that. Jesus, how the fuck was he supposed to walk upstairs like everything was normal now, all flushed and sweaty , fucking spunk all over his damn shirt ?
Apparently he wasn't moving fast enough for Rick, because after a few seconds he felt a cloth brush up between his legs to clean him off. He jerked away and went to yank up his jeans, embarrassed at being touched down there at all now that he was coming down. Rick stepped back, giving him space, using the other side of the small towel he'd brought to wipe Daryl's come off his hand.
Daryl flushed as he thought of licking it clean for him, disgusted by his own impulse. Worse was his urge to ask Rick if it had been ok, and if they'd ever do this again. Fucking pathetic, he thought.
He waited silently while Rick put himself away and straightened his clothing, a knot forming in his stomach. But then Rick looked at him and smiled crookedly, a playful, somewhat predatory smile. A smile Daryl realized was all for him.
"So," Rick drawled, his tone light now. "Is this how I'm gonna keep you in a better mood from now on ? "