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He's so close to euphoria, he can taste it on the tip of his tongue. He can't refrain the desperate moans that slip and slide from his saliva stained lips; even with his face pressed deep into the paper-thin sleeping bag, the sounds he makes echo around them. His cries of pleasure only spur his lover on, Glenn mewls in satisfaction as Daryl buries himself deeper and deeper until he's flush against him, his stomach flat against his back. Large, rough hands tangle between Glenn's slim fingers, resting above his mass of glossy, raven hair.
Daryl always wonders how the kid manages to maintain such lustrous hair in an apocalypse. However, his mind is otherwise occupied with making the lean, sweat covered body beneath him quiver and break. Daryl picks up his pace, bringing Glenn so deliciously close to orgasm, before bringing the tempo right back down to shallow, burning strokes; his hips rotating to the left to hit Glenn's prostate. Daryl feels almost powerful when he's denying Glenn his climax, he groans as his lover's muscles clench and tremble around his throbbing cock; Glenn will get his happy ending, but not before Daryl's tortured him, sweet and slow.
Glenn's unable to speak, his mouth remains in a slack 'O' as his eyes roll back, his nerves are on end from the amount of pleasure he's enduring. If he could form words, he'd beg and plead with Daryl to just grab his waist and pound him within an inch of his life; but all he can string together is a long line of moans and pants. He feels Daryl's slick skin glide over his, the motion is so fluid and the heat between them is volcanic. When Glenn realises Daryl is going to drag his build up out for as long as possible, he uses his trembling thighs to push back and meet Daryl's thrusts.
Daryl smirks knowingly, Glenn needs to release. The hunter runs his hands down to tuck under Glenn's frame and he pulls him up, sitting back on his knees to sit Glenn on his lap, legs splayed and chest heaving under his fingers.
"You want it so bad boy, then get ridin'" his voice is rough as bark yet smooth as velvet; the southern drawl always seems deeper when he's aroused.
Glenn mumbles a mixture of filthy words in Korean, before tightening his legs around Daryl and beginning to bounce on his lap. He's in control now, and he needs to come before he explodes; he goes for gold, rocking his hips every time he lands down on Daryl's thick erection. The air around them becomes dense with flustered groans and the slapping of skin against skin. When Glenn leans in to dip his tongue in Daryl's ear and lap at the shell, the hunter growls in ecstasy, hands desperately tugging on Glenn's hips to slam him down over and over again.
Daryl throws his head back when he feels Glenn's muscles tighten around him, he howls a string of cusses as he coats his walls with his seed, in turn feeling Glenn spill all over his thighs.
They stay still for a moment, breathing heavily as they collect composure; the group are expecting them back any minute, and so basking in the after glow will have to wait today.
"Daryl, I..."
"Shh now, let's get you cleaned up."
Daryl knows those three little words are wanting to fall from Glenn's mouth, but he can't bare to hear it just yet; he's happy with the kid, and he's never cared for someone like he has Glenn. He just has a terrible feeling in his gut that if Glenn says those words, the Dixon curse will rear it's ugly head and take Glenn away from him, leaving him alone once again.
So they reluctantly get dressed and head back to the others, anticipating sun down when they'll be together again. Just how Daryl thinks it should be.