The Love of a Good Man - Chapter Four

Maggie wasn’t hard to figure out. She liked a good hard fuck. She liked to be manhandled and roughed up so Daryl gave her what she wanted.

Daryl wasn’t hard to figure out, either. He liked to be treated with kind, gentle hands. He liked to feel like Maggie was making love to him, not just screwing him, so on some of their trysts that’s what it was; slow, sensual sex. It was good for both of them.

Maggie lay in Daryl’s bed now. It was a rainy afternoon and Glenn was out on a run with Tyreese and Sasha. Normally she would have stayed home and fretted until he returned, but this time she’d only thought about running to Daryl’s room and hopping into bed with him. He was in a surly mood that day, and she didn’t know what set him off, but it had made for an awesomely rough fuck.She’d come into the room and saw him sitting on the bed, his head down in his hands. She’d asked if he was sick or what was wrong but he made it clear he didn’t want to talk. Instead he just looked up at her and said something that normally would have pissed her off: “Take off your clothes, whore.”

Instead of getting angry, Maggie had gotten wet. Well, wetter than she already was. She felt like a trained bitch in heat the way she got wet just seeing the door to the old office that had become their fuck-nest.

“What did you call me?” she said, with mock fury.

“Whore,” he said, getting up and approaching her like a hunter about to swoop in for the kill. “Whore,” he repeated.

Had Maggie not been so horny she would have stopped the whole thing to figure out what that look in Daryl’s eyes was about, but she didn’t, because she was enjoying being willfully selfish and getting what she wanted: Fucked by a big cock attached to a sexy man.

So he’d fucked her, not letting her get undressed but yanking down her jeans and hiking up her shirt to expose the good parts of her body. The parts that she wanted to share with him. His dick was out and she was face first over the desk in the corner with her legs spread as wide as the limitations of her jeans would allow and he was pushing into her. He was filling her up, stretching her, and there was no pain--hadn’t been for a long while. There was only intense pleasure in the feel of him squeezing her tits one moment then roughly circling her clit, trying to hurt her because he knew she liked the pain, but it was just too damn good, and every moan was a genuine vocalization of the pleasure he brought her.

When it was over he’d zipped up and gone to the bed to lie down. Maggie joined him. Now they were lying on his bed, her head on his chest, listening to his heart slow to a normal rhythm. Rain pattered on the window and she could no longer ignore that something was bothering Daryl.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’” he said.

“Somethin’,” she insisted.

He wanted to tell her to get out but he didn’t know how. He didn’t want to be rude and hurtful to her. He didn’t want to do something that would put what they were doing to an end, yet at the same time an end to it was exactly what he wanted.

“What do you care?”

“I care,” she said, looking up at him. He just stared at the ceiling.

“I’m likin’ this too much,” he finally admitted. “I’m likin’ you too much.”

Maggie swallowed, feeling on the verge of panic. He was falling, and being honest...she liked him a little too much, as well. “It’s only sex, Daryl. We agreed.”

He nodded. Yeah. Only sex. Wouldn’t it be his luck that the healthiest, happiest relationship he’d ever had with a woman came from one who made it clear she only wanted to use him, and be used by him?

“Can I ask you something?” she asked.

He grunted out a yes.

“You ever been serious with someone?”

“Once,” he said.

She was surprised he’d answer such a personal question. “And?”

“I loved her, she didn’t love me,” he said in bitter, clipped words. “I never let that shit happen again. Who needs that?”

“You can’t be afraid to love,” Maggie said. “I mean, someone else, not me.”

He snorted derisively and sat up, desperate to be away from her and her hurtful words. Suddenly what they were doing wasn't so fun anymore. “Just go, Maggie.”

She thought that might be best but she worried it would hurt him. Hurting Daryl was the last thing she wanted to do but she didn’t want their arrangement to get emotional.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do the cuddling and sleeping thing after,” she suggested.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do the thing at all,” he replied, bitterly. “You don’t care about that as long as you get off, though, do ya?”

“That’s not fair, Daryl,” she said, trying to not get angry. “You came into this knowing what it was. I didn’t lead you on.”

“Will ya just go? Get out!”

“Is that it, then?” she shouted. “You ending it?”

He didn’t answer. He just turned to the window and stared out at the rainy woods. He looked, for the first time ever to Maggie, broken. It was the slump to his shoulders. The tilt of his head. She wasn’t going to stick around to find out. Not because she was angry, but because she felt this terrible sense of guilt pooling cold in her belly.

…

She was never in the mood for Glenn anymore. He picked up on it, fast. At first the affair with Daryl had her hot for her husband, too, but now all she wanted was Daryl. Whenever she and Glenn tried to have sex she found him doing the same things in bed as he always had and it just wasn’t enough.

Like tonight. She’d stewed for a couple of days over her argument with Daryl and Glenn could sense she was down. He’d brought her wild flowers and a bag of stale chocolate kisses.

“Aw, Baby, you’re so sweet,” she’d said.

“I love you.”

There was this intense look in his eyes when he said it. She told him she loved him too and then lay down to sleep but Glenn had more in mind. She kissed him mechanically. She assumed the position only to have Glenn stop and look down at her with this wounded puppy look that pissed her off because it made her think of Daryl.

It made her think of the mistakes she was making, and how guilty she felt, and how she was hurting two men that she cared about. One she loved. The other she loved without being in love with.

“What?” she said, snapping at him, deflecting, trying to staunch the guilt bubbling into her belly.

“Things seem different lately,” he said.

“Would you just spit it out, Glenn?”

“Are you fucking someone else?” he said, a little heat tingeing his words.

“No. Maybe I should. It’d be different from the same old routine we have.”

She regretted the words almost immediately. Glenn’s eyes watered at that, got red, and he turned away.

“Glenn, I’m sorry. That was a rotten thing to say.”

“I get it,” he shrugged. “I’m not enough for you anymore. So, who is he?”

“There isn’t anyone.”

“Rick?”

“Don’t be stupid, Glenn! I’m not fucking anybody else!”

She was afraid. If he said Daryl’s name he’d see it on her face. She just knew it. Why couldn’t she have just faked it? Why couldn’t she have just remained miserable? Suddenly it didn’t seem as though having this secret to herself was all that fun anymore. Not with people getting hurt. Not when the weight of her actions, and all she stood to lose, began to hit home.

What did she expect? That she could play with people’s feelings and not get someone hurt? Get her own feelings hurt? Make herself miserable?

“Glenn.”

“What do you want, Maggie?” Glenn implored. “What can I do differently?”

“Nothing. You’re perfect the way you are. I’m just…I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“You never are.”

He got up and pulled on his jeans.

“Where are you going?”

He didn't look back at her this time. “For a walk. I need some air.”

She watched him leave and wished, for the first time, she had someone to talk to about the mess she’d made. Instead she plopped back on the bed, turned to the wall, and cried.

…

The last person Daryl wanted to run into was Glenn Rhee. Yet here he was, stomping toward him, looking hurt and angry.

Oh fuck , Daryl thought. He knows .

He steeled himself for the angry confrontation, for a well-deserved punch to the face. He capped the bottle of whiskey he’d been sipping on and put it on the steps beside him and watched Glenn approach. Rather than sling accusations at Daryl he leaned against the wall and looked up at the moon which was intermittently shrouded in clouds.

“I think Maggie’s fucking around,” he finally said.

Daryl’s entire body sagged in relief. Glenn only had suspicions but he didn’t know for sure.

“I doubt it,” Daryl said. He hoped he could convince Glenn he was wrong. The pain in his friend’s eyes ran deep and Daryl knew he was personally responsible for it.

“She has to be,” Glenn said. “She never wants to have sex, or if she does she seems bored with me and…I know you don’t like to share.”

“I don’t,” Daryl said, being honest.

“It’s just different with her now. If it’s not another man what could it be?”

“Have you tried asking her?”

“I did. She swore there isn’t someone else but that has to be it. She’s never been so cold, distant. It’s like whoever she’s with makes her happier than I can.”

Daryl quickly opened the whiskey and took a swallow. He then shoved it at Glenn who eyed hesitantly before taking a sip.

“Don’t be dainty. Be a man and drink,” Daryl said in annoyance.

Glenn looked angry at that comment and stepped up to the challenge by taking too big a swig of the whiskey. His eyes burned, his chest burned, and for a moment he was afraid he’d lose his breath.

“Atta boy,” Daryl said.

“You think I ain’t a real man?”

“Yeah, I think you're a real man, but my opinion don’t count. Maggie’s does,” Daryl said.

“You mean she thinks I’m not a real man?”

Yeah, she does , that’s why she’s been fucking me every chance she gets for the past month , Daryl thought, but there was no way he’d say that to Glenn’s face.

“Well?”

“What ya want me to say, Glenn?” Daryl snapped, feeling guilty. It burned his gut harder than the whiskey ever could. “I ain’t some marriage expert. I don’t know what Maggie thinks. Ain’t my job to. If you think she feels like you ain’t a real man you need to find out why and then change it. Man up and fix it. That’s all I got for ya.”

Daryl wanted so much to be angry with Glenn but he couldn’t find it in his heart to do so. All he could do is feel guilt and shame. He cared about Glenn like a brother. Then he’d stabbed him in the back by fucking his wife. He could only hope Glenn never found out. He’d lose Glenn’s trust and friendship and that didn’t sit well with Daryl.

“You ever thought,” Daryl said carefully, “maybe you’re too much of a good guy?”

“What do you mean?” Glenn asked. He looked so fucking young and innocent Daryl wanted to cry.

“Maybe she wants a bad boy. I don't know. I see how you handle her. Maybe she’d get a kick out of you maybe manhandling her or something. Being rough. Say mean shit in bed, call her names.”

“Oh man,” Glenn said, shaking his head smiling for the first time that night. “You don’t know Maggie at all.”

I know her better than you think , Daryl thought, but that was just something else he couldn’t say.

He shrugged. “Just a thought. Give it a try. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could get slugged?”

“That could be fun if you handle it right,” Daryl said, trying to joke.

Another smile curved Glenn’s lips. “Maybe.”

“I ain’t never been married,” Daryl said. “Never will be, neither, but I’ve lived long enough to know that shit gets stale when people been together a long time. Do something different or she just might get a wandering eye. Now get the fuck outta here. I wanna drink in peace.”

Glenn clapped Daryl on the shoulder. “You’re a real friend, Daryl. Thanks.”

A real friend …

The guilt was so intense Daryl thought he might just vomit up the whiskey he’d drank. He watched Glenn leave and then capped the bottle. He and Maggie were gonna have to have a talk.

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