...
Sasha wasn't quite so sure why she wanted to stop Daryl from
killing a man who'd intended to rape her, and kill her after, but she felt she
needed to find him and talk him down. She had a feeling he was on the
verge of losing something precious, some part of himself that would forever
change him, but not for the better. The way he'd stood there, so calm and
collected while a stranger violated him, forced an erection on him, and forced
him to stand there and be fellated against his will…he'd taken it all like this
wasn't his first show in the arena of sexual abuse.
His back. Good God, Daryl's back was a nightmare landscape of scars.
Evidence of true, disturbing violence. And they looked so old, those scars,
like he'd carried them from birth. She felt something deep inside her respond
to him. She'd wanted so much for those four men to go away so she could just
cover him up, hold him, tell him everything was going to be okay, like he'd
needed someone to do for him when he was a child. They'd failed him then,
everyone in his life. She didn't want to fail him now.
The feel of Seb's hands between her legs was fresh. She cringed at it,
felt her stomach threaten to heave up her meager dinner of jerky and chicken
broth. Sasha hurried to cut her feet free, looked around at the bloodied bodies
of the men Daryl had killed, and then collected their guns and ammo. She was
grateful for not just the flashlight she found, but also for the unopened
package of D batteries in one of their backpacks.
She worked quickly, efficiently, hoping to God Daryl would just take care
of business and come on back. The only thing she really wanted right now was to
get back to the prison and her brother Tyreese's kind, strong embrace. She'd
like to sit with his girlfriend, Karen, talk about something normal over a cup
of tea. She wanted a cold shower to wash away the grime of this run gone
horribly wrong.
When Daryl failed to show, Sasha did the only thing she could think of—she
flicked on the flashlight, kicked dirt over the fire to extinguish it,, and
then made sure the men who lay dead would never get back up. After that she
grabbed Daryl's heavy ass crossbow and set off in the direction he and Seb had
taken. It wasn't exactly hard to track them. Hell, she had no difficulty doing
it and she had very little tracking experience. The ground was all tore up
where they'd run off. There were deep gouges in the spongy forest floor from
Seb's heavy boots, and softer, more shallow prints from Daryl's bare feet.
"Please! I only did what Henry wanted me to!"
Seb. He was still alive.
Sasha hurried off in the direction of the screaming and pleading. He was
sorry he'd touched his girlfriend. He would never hurt another living soul.
Daryl assured him that he wouldn't. He'd make sure of that. Then the screams of
agony ended. Sasha ran, hard, knowing she was going to find Seb dead at Daryl's
hand. She was sure she'd find something else dead in Daryl. He was such a good
man, so kind, even though he had a gruff exterior. He wasn't the
rip-them-to-shreds kind of man, or so she'd thought.
The wet sound of ripping flesh made her lose her tenuous hold on her
dinner. She couldn't recognize the form of Seb's body as being anything human.
He looked like ground beef, in all honesty. Daryl drove his knife into him
again and again. He turned the blade on Seb's head, making certain he'd never
rise again.
"Daryl, enough!"
He turned to her, then, his face and chest completely red with another
man's blood. She could smell it, fresh, hanging in the warm summer night air
like a stinking cloud.
"Oh, Daryl…There's walkers coming. Come on. We need to go."
He got up, still completely naked, and stalked off into the night. Only
his butchered back was clean of blood. His round, firm ass cheeks bounced with
deceptive playfulness with every step. He didn't seem to need the flashlight,
even though it was black as pitch, but Sasha did, and she kept shining it ahead
of them, illuminating the path, occasionally revealing a walker that wandered
through the night.
"That goddamned light is just ringing the dinner bell for those
things," he snapped.
"I can't see. You can't either."
"We got a half-moon," Daryl said. "You could see if you'd
shut that thing off and let your eyes adjust."
She flicked it off, reluctantly, and followed his directions to close her
eyes for awhile. When she opened them a minute later she was surprised at how
well she could see. The light wasn't great but it wasn't pitch black like she'd
initially thought. Daryl was moving again, barely making any noise. He was
stealthy, going through the woods like he'd been born in it, raised in it, and
would only agree to die if he could say goodbye in it. There were no more
walkers. Only the sound of a creek rushing by. High and moving hard from a
recent rain.
Daryl sat down on the shore, dropping his knife and wrapping his arms
around his knees. He bent his head and curled in on himself. Sasha expected him
to cry, finally overwhelmed by what had happened to him tonight, but he
remained silent. He was probably one of those guys, who would rather
die than cry in front of someone, especially a woman. She sat down beside him.
"Why did you kill him? I mean...why butcher him like that?"
Daryl's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug.
"You tore him to shreds."
"He was gonna rape you, Sasha. Why do you care?"
Sasha shrugged this time, even though Daryl couldn't see it. "I was
afraid if you killed him like that you'd lose something inside. I don't know
how to word it better than that."
"Nah, I get it," said Daryl. He sounded weary, suddenly. As
weary as she felt. "He was gonna take something good out of you. Make you
into something sick and twisted, just like that guy said. You woulda been
bitter, too. Trust me, I know."
And that, Sasha realized, was what had enraged Daryl. She was going to
lose whatever innocence she had left, whatever good was still inside her. Seb
had wanted to rob of her of that, and Daryl wanted to make him pay for it.
After all, he'd lost all of that long before the Turn to people just as bad as
Henry and Seb. His back was proof of that.
"I've got your clothes," she said. "You should wash up, get
dressed."
Daryl didn't immediately respond. He just sat there, head down.
"I'll go with you," she said, tugging off her shoes.
She stripped down to her underwear. She wanted to bathe anyway, and the
water here wasn't any colder than what they had back home. It was certainly
fresher. She looked in her supplies. She liked to keep a rag with her but she'd
forgotten one now. She saw Daryl's red one, the one that always hung from his
back right pocket, and pulled it out.
He allowed her to lead him into the water. He dunked under with her, like
some baptism in the depths of hell, and came up with blood still caked on his
body. After Sasha gargled and rinsed the sour taste of vomit from her mouth,
she used his red rag to scrub the blood away, and was careful to clean the rag
thoroughly after. Her touches were gentle but Daryl's attention was on her face
until she couldn't take his stare anymore and she looked up at him.
He turned away from her, let his head hang back as he gazed up at the half
moon. He didn't cringe when Sasha ran the cloth over his chest and down the
rippled muscles of his abs. Her hands were tempted to run lower but she stopped
and threw the rag onto the grassy shore. There was a scar low on his belly,
just above that patch of brown hair threaded with some gray.
"How'd you get this one?"
"Bar fight in '96," he answered. "Some guy tried to gut
me."
"Why?"
"I'd just fucked his wife in the bathroom. She wasn't wearing a ring.
I didn't know she was married."
"Would that have mattered?" she asked.
"Fuck yeah," he said. "That what you think of me?"
"I don't know you well enough to know."
He regarded her, his eyes looking like shards of arctic ice in the
moonlight. "Would you fuck somebody's husband?"
"No. That what you think of me?"
"I don't know you well enough to know," he said, throwing her
words back in her face, like she'd done him.
Sasha's mouth tilted up in an uneven grin. That's when she became aware
she was stroking the scar over Daryl's patch and he was getting hard again. He
was staring at her face, his body still, and her fingers slowly halted. She
was, she realized, dripping wet from the water, her underwear thin and easily
transparent to his sharp eyes, even in the light of a half moon.
His rigid, turgid cock was thick and veiny, hanging there, a heavy column
of thick flesh. She wondered if he wanted to forget the touch of the other man,
Henry, who'd violated him, by being touched by someone else. The way her center
quickly turned to liquid heat at the sight of Daryl's erection, Sasha knew she
certainly wouldn't mind having Daryl help her forget Seb's touch. There was
only one way to find out if he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.
She took Daryl in her hand and began to stroke him, making him even
harder, something she wouldn't have thought possible before she touched him. It
was like he'd turned to stone in her hand.
"You sure about this?" Daryl asked, his voice husky, rough.
"After what just happened—"
"I can still feel that sonofabitch," Sasha said. "I want
his hands gone. I need to be touched by someone I want."
The smile that came to Daryl's lips was almost imperceptible. She sensed
it more than she could actually see it, but it was there, right there, in his
eyes. It was the most understanding, yet at the same time the saddest, smile
she'd ever seen in her life. He was like a wounded dog being petted by a gentle
hand for the first time in its life. When that smile faded, what was left was
pure lust.
Daryl rested his big hands on Sasha's hips. Despite the chill of the
water, a sharp contrast to the balmy night air, his hands were really warm. His
calloused fingertips were a direct contrast to Seb's baby soft fingers, when
they skimmed just inside her panties. He ran his hands up her back and deftly
released her bra clasp before pulling it off and throwing the thin scrap of
material on shore, where it landed in a wet heap over his crossbow.
By the time her mouth met his, a slow, experimental graze of the lips,
Sasha's pulse was pounding. Daryl's hands excited her with their slow
gentleness. His skin against hers was so warm as the cold water rushed around
her thighs, making her feel as though they were both moving fast through the
water by magic, somehow. When Daryl plunged his tongue into her mouth, dipping
in to roughly explore, she forgot all about the water, all about the cold in
her feet and the ghost of Seb's unwanted touch. All there was now as Daryl, and
his mouth that tasted vaguely of tobacco and the salty jerky he'd eaten for
dinner.
His hands gripped her bottom and pulled her against his twitching
erection, which was now trapped between their bodies but still in her grip. She
moved her hand with deliberate strokes, putting pressure on him as she moved,
making him pant against her neck as his lips gently planted kisses along her
jawline and up to her ear. Sasha felt her thighs tremble when Daryl reached low
and pushed her panties aside and then lifted one of her legs up to place it
around his waist.
"If you want me to stop…" he ground out, his voice choked with
need.
"Don't you fucking dare," Sasha said.
Her fingers gripped his strong shoulders when she felt him seeking
entrance. When he pushed in, slowly and steadily, she felt as though the core
of her body caught fire and it rapidly spread through every single inch of her.
No comments:
Post a Comment