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grimesgirll · 11 months ago

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you'd been begging daryl to take you hunting.

"why don't you take her?" rick implored. "she's not a bad shot."

"we'd be bowhunting, not rifle hunting." daryl distinguishes with a grunt.

"i can learn," you assure him, holding your compound bow in your hands. "technically, i've been shooting since i was seven."

"once a summer for fifteen minutes while peddling cookies," he states.

"c'mon, she learned a lot at camp." rick rebuts, grinning at you. "right, doll, didn't you learn how to build a fire and purify water?" you nod. "none of us have frozen to death or gotten diphtheria yet, so i'd say you should at least give her archery skills a chance."

"please?" you borderline beg, breath hitching as you see your morning not going how you planned. "i really wanna learn to track."

daryl doesn't say anything, just looks from you to the bow in your hand. rick interrupts whatever thoughts he has with a sigh. "daryl, why don't ya just take her? she clearly wants to go with you." he gestures to you. "how can you say no to her when she's asking so nicely? unless you think it's too hairy for her out there and we should just spend the day tucked inside here."

you whine at the idea. you want to be outside.

that spurs daryl into saying a rushed, "grab your heavy coat and your arrows."

you grin at rick who despite assisting in your victory, looks disappointed that you'll be gone for the day. while daryl is busy grabbing his crossbow, you slink over to rick, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“thanks,” you seal your gratitude with a kiss.

he wraps a firm arm around you. "you're welcome, sweetheart," your leader punctuates with a hand dug in your hair while he brings your face to his. you almost don't notice daryl until he's huffing by the doorway and you're kissing rick goodbye one last time and scrambling to grab your bow before dashing out the door after your boyfriend.

gone from alexandria, you and daryl take off on foot towards what he’d described as the best hunting grounds in the nearest fifty miles.

"be sure to quiet down," daryl tells you, abstaining from cringing as your boots crunch every leaf on the forest floor beneath them.

"sorry," you giggle. you try to quell your footsteps but it's hard when you're so captivated by the beauty of the woods.

before everything happened with the dead walking, you loved being outside. growing up in scouts and regularly camping had turned you into someone who was all too reckless outside for their knowledge of the woods. yes, you knew that predators and walkers lurked around every corner out here but you just want to crane your neck and stare at the sky through the trees, or let your eyes wander over the meandering streams.

that's why daryl is watching you like a hawk.

years of tracking has made him hip to everything going on around him. truth be told, if anyone or anything were on your trail, you were a dead giveaway. stomping about the way you are, you're bound to scare off any small game but he's trying to be patient with you. it's not like you had to keep it down at your hippie dippie kumbaya girl scout camp or on sunlit afternoon hikes. daryl, on the other hand, moved about undetected like it was second nature. had to be quiet if you wanted to actually to leave the forest with a meal.

he's watching you and the woods just to be safe. it's hard not getting distracted by you the way you're getting all caught up in the trees and the vivid greenery surrounding you.

the sight of you; pink lips parted just slightly with your head tipped all the way back to look for bird nests have his jeans getting cramped. you're just so excited to be outside.

it's not like you don't go on walks every day in alexandria with judith or join them on occasional outings beyond the walls. there's just not as much room for you to leave with how dangerous even just scavenging is turning out to be, so it's harder to get you out for a remote nature walk.

"what're we tracking for?" you ask.

daryl pushes a branch out of the way, holding it back as you pass under before catching up. "whatever you don't scare away with all that noise."

you snort. "so no deer?"

the redneck laughs. "not with the way you're tramping through here."

"what about pheasants?" you question, tiptoeing over a particularly rocky section of daryl's trail. "or do we need dogs to find them?"

"you don't need no damn dog to hunt pheasants."

"a decoy?"

"you just gotta' be patient." he clicks his tongue. "but it's not like you'd know anything about that." you let out a small whine and his breath hitches.

"just askin'."

"i know, girl."

"so what're you shooting for?"

daryl shrugs. "think' we can probably find something further up the ridge. rabbit, squirrel, something 'for you to aim at."

you nod and knock an arrow. following your boyfriend as he takes you past one of his favorite creeks outside of alexandria, leading the way as you pad along on the forest floor behind him.

your shotgun is slung on your back in its strap, understudying the compound bow you’d dug out of the armory. there were many fewer bow users in the apocalypse than there should’ve been. for every bow hunter, there were fifteen idiots blowing off the head of whatever or whoever they encountered with some barely functional, scavenged handgun. maintaining the skill and the arrows for a bow wasn't necessarily for the lazy.

you really didn't have much experience with archery or hunting for that matter. rick joked that you were a duck hunter but that had been dumb luck. while scavenging for gas along a riverside park, you'd seen some geese and fired your shotgun. rick couldn't be upset about the noise when your impulsive assault on the waterfowl was what filled your stomachs that night. and as a reward, rick filled you up just the way you liked it that night.

you'd go out firing on random flocks of geese more if it meant rick would fuck you the way he did that night. you were losing your mind - putty in his hands - from all the praise. his good girl who shot their dinner. marking every thrust with more praise.

the naughty bundle of nerves between your legs awakens at the thought of receiving the same treatment from daryl. he didn't love spanking your ass red or doling out punishments like rick, but you wanted to see his face after you caught something. after you shoot a deer with your bow. he would be so proud of you, giving you a celebratory kiss before helping you field dress your harvest.

whatever route daryl is following takes on an impressive incline, giving way to a fragmented vista of the tiny green valley. you wish you had binoculars. once your eyes stop scanning the sky for hawks, an auburn mess of hair catches your eye. even through his black windbreaker, you can see the outline of his muscles along his back. his form and thoughts of him taking you up against a tree cloud your brain until you hear your name.

"yeah," you answer, looking up at daryl who's stopped to pause below a short, dense pine. he motions for you to squat with him and you do, settling into a perched position with your loaded bow sat on your knees.

“right here is the perfect pass along the ridge to come up and over the mountain,” daryl explains, blue eyes catching a bit of sunlight. “a bunch of game will be scampering around as the day goes on. won’t see any deer right before noon though. not that they’d wanna walk up here with your loud ass.”

you snicker before sending him an apologetic look. “sorry, dare’. i’m not used to being quiet like that.”

i know, baby, he wants to say but just points to your knocked arrow. “wanna have that ready. never know when a squirrel’ll come skippin’ by.”

“yes, sir,” you croon, smirking at the way his eyes darken and he playfully ruffles your hair.

settling into a cozy state of surveillance, your eyes start to droop. rick had kept you up after daryl went to bed. this was before you woke up with the urge to accompany daryl on his hunt, so you probably only got four or five hours of sleep. typical rick keeping you up with sweet temptations like his hands on your breasts, his warm mouth on your torso, licking down to your clit and reigniting that fire that’s consumed your core earlier in the night.

you start to feel it stirring when your mind wanders to the man sitting beside you. you smile sweetly at him when he catches your gaze and ask an innocent question about pheasant hunting again that breaks the silence.

then you’re relaying the story about the time your cousin fell out of his tree stand after one too many beers.

daryl guffaws. “that’s some’ shit merle would do.”

"yeah, it was pretty stupid of him."

the quiet returns. you sigh. the silence meant to lull the local game into a false sense of security is boring you. you came out here for some one on one time with daryl and to learn to track, not to sit in silence in the cold for god knows how long.

you close the distance between you and daryl. tucking yourself into his side, you earn a look from him. "i'm cold," you commiserate.

the archer has to look away from your doe eyes to keep his zipper from popping. he mentally debates pulling you closer until he gives in and tugs you to his chest, ruining your position holding your bow.

both of you know you’re eventually going to do what you do best in the cold; get distracted by warming each other up. it’s evident from how you sink back further against daryl. nonchalant even when you feel his hardness against your ass.

“feeling warmer,” you update him.

“good,” he murmurs when you press your head back to his chest. you feel warmer; despite your layers, daryl has gotten your core going enough for you to feel it from head to toe.

you imagine a wave of pleasure, not just flickering body heat as you turn around and face his groin on your knees.

“not out here,” he mutters with a gasp of your name. his belt falls and your hands start on his zipper, progressing the metal zip all the way down until a sturdy hand grabs yours. “don’t you wanna catch something?” he reminds you of the reason you even trekked up here.

you shake your head yes.

“then what’s this all about?”

you roll your eyes. “dare’, I’m bored!”

“i told you that half’a hunting is waitin’!” daryl chides, pushing your hands down.

tears well in your eyes. the older man exhales; he’s fucked.

“dare’-,”

“don’t you start.” he tells you, grasping your chin in his hand and leaning down to kiss you. you tilt upwards eagerly into the kiss from the pine needle littered ground. “you’re gonna scare anything left up here.”

daryl disconnects from you when your bow is lowered to the ground. his thumb slips into your mouth and without hesitation, you treat his thumb to the same treatment he’d gotten last night.

it’s not long before he’s finally saying, “fuck it!” declaring out loud what you’ve been yearning for the entire morning.

with another smirk, you strip him of his pants until he’s popping out of his boxers. your mouth is on him an instant - it’s cold after all. first thing, you envelope him in your mouth, pulsing downstairs again when his hands find warmth in your hair. you don’t need him to guide your head down to the base of your cock for you to take him into your throat.

the black shotgun you’d proudly toted - even after it’d been confiscated at terminus - is deposited hap-hazardously on the ground while your bow is on the other side of your legs. daryl’s ditched his crossbow at this point, opting to explore the far reaches of your throat with his cock while the bow stands against the other side of the tree.

your boyfriend’s breath hitches again. you overfill as much of his cock as you can into your mouth until you slide yourself up and off, taking a break to catch your breath.

fucked out and face flush in spite of the cold, daryl is pleasantly surprised when you dive down to pay his balls some serious attention. you loll each one into your mouth, leisurely progressing up his length with gentle licks until you’re gingerly kissing the head, locking eyes with him.

disregarding the chill beneath your knees, you dip your mouth down on him again, licking a new trail up his rock hard cock. thinking about how painful it must be in this cold, you give into him when he thrusts into your mouth.

hands in your hair, daryl is in heaven. getting head under the trees? sign him the fuck up. you two have fooled around outside before of course but that wasn't usually by choice. without having to worry about a horde of walkers hot on your trail or horrors like cannibals hunting you, he could lean back and just enjoy the sight of you between his legs, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.

for a moment, he worries that the sounds you make as you swallow his length will attract walkers but he's too hard to care. you bob up and down, trying to take more of him each time. his hands guide you until he's bucking in your mouth and feel him spill down your throat.

daryl's gonna have to take you hunting more often.

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