Shoot Me Again
by Leela

When she slipped into his tent that night and he didn't wake, she knew he must've been on some pretty heavy pain killers. Andrea doubted herself for a moment –

(he looked so... soft, so vulnerable, so un-Daryl)

– but the adrenaline rush from earlier still had her reeling, and as she kneeled by his cot and began to unbutton his pants she could already feel a wetness between her legs.

(Her tryst with Shane had been rushed, uncomfortable, and to make matters worse he didn't even make her orgasm.)

When she pulled his zipper down he finally moved (and began to grow hard), and his eyes got wide as he struggled to make out what was happening in the darkness.

He finally put two and two together and his body tensed, but he didn't run away and that was all the encouragement she needed.

"The hell?"

"Shh."

She pulled his pants down, underwear with them (his body aiding her as if it had a mind of its own), and he was already rock hard when she ran her fingers through his length, all the way down and up again.

(He was so hot when she pressed a kiss to the vein running up his shaft that she thought it would burn her lips.)

Daryl sucked in a deep breath and he looked at her, confused, but his eyes were already dark and his hips involuntarily thrust upwards. "The hell are you doin'?"

"Apologizing."

She took him into her mouth then, her fingers curled around his base, pleased with the long moan that escaped him. He tasted like nature, dirt, trees, smelled like greenery and bark and for some reason it made her even more wet, more eager as she took him into the back of her throat over and over again.

Daryl grunted, breathing hard, his fingers blindly finding a strand of blonde hair and grabbing onto it for dear life.

"Told ya we were good," he sighed.

Normally Andrea would've laughed at the slurping noise that came out when she squeezed him hard out of her mouth, but she was beginning to feel a frustration bubbling in her stomach.

"I know."

"So wh-"

"Daryl, just shut the fuck up."

He did.

She took him into her mouth again, her tongue curling around his head, sucking the drop of pre-cum that had accumulated there. Her fingers moved from his inner thigh deep into the curls of light brown hair and she gently squeezed his balls.

"Shit," he grunted, eyes shut.

"Shh."

He cursed again, but much quieter this time, and as Andrea continued her fingers fumbled with the button of her jeans, pulling her own zipper down and trying to please herself as well as him, but she'd always been a clumsy mess and she growled at her inability to perform both tasks simultaneously (she'd never been able to pat her head and rub her stomach at the same time, either).

When his eyes opened again he moaned and chuckled at the scene.

"Come 'ere," he whispered, hooking his hands under her armpits and pulling her up, their mouths crashing together in a mess of tongues, lips, teeth scraping and before Andrea knew it he had her pinned to the cot, his rough hands inside her pants, trying to touch her and get rid of all her clothing at the same time.

She sighed loudly when he entered her, trying her hardest not to make a sound, but fuck, he fit inside her in all the right ways. He thrust in and out of her with admirable work for someone nursing several wounds, and she wondered what sex with Daryl would be like without his injuries before she stopped thinking altogether.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heel hitting his ass as he pushed in and out of her hard, his tongue on her neck, her chest, her breasts, her cheek, her ear, and Andrea could feel all the hurt, the anger and frustration from the past weeks being cleansed away by his saliva, hot on her skin.

"Come on," he growled into her ear, his fingers finding her clit and drawing circles around it over and over until finally she closed her eyes and let every part of her go, her insides clenching hard, and he came soon after, biting the side of her neck and collapsing on top of her, his breathing ragged and raw.

She immediately missed their connection when he pulled out of her, but his body curved against her back and his breath was warm on her neck, his hands still touching, searching, memorizing her.

"Fuck," he sighed into her hair, still trying to catch his breath, his fingers curled around her breast. "You need to shoot me more often."

Andrea chuckled into his pillow, feeling him smile against her skin. Within seconds they were both asleep.

the end

Now you all owe me some Daryl/Andrea porn.