Author's Note: Hope y'all enjoy!

Daryl Dixon walked through his front door and was promptly attacked by his wife.

Carol pounced on him, flying up into his arms. He grabbed her ass, holding her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Miss me?" he smirked. After two years of marriage, she was used to him leaving on week long hunting trips with his older brother, Merle. Normally, she greeted him with a smile and a hug. He'd take this over a hug any day, though.

She kissed him, and it went straight to his groin. She may have missed him, but he knew for a fact he'd missed her more. He'd thought about her all day, every day. Having no contact with her on his hunting trips always killed him.

"I did," she whispered when she pulled back.

She squirmed in his arms, and he let her down.

His breathing picked up as he looked her over. Her silver hair was spiked with small wisps curling around her ears. Her blue eyes were playful and bright. She wore his favorite nightgown of hers, the dark purple one that was way too short and sheer in all the right places. She looked perfect.

"See something you like?" she asked.

He just growled and pulled her against him, his hands going to her ass. He buried his face in her neck and latched on to the soft skin there, sucking, wanting to leave a mark. She sighed.

"Do you wanna go get cleaned up first?"

It took his brain a minute to process her words. He broke away from her neck, smirking when he saw the angry purple mark he left there.

"Cleaned up?"

She laughed. "Yes, you remember those things called showers?"

He scoffed. "Please, woman. You like it when I'm all sweaty and nasty."

She leaned forward and kissed him again.

"Yeah, you've got me there. I was just thinking that maybe you'd want to get cleaned up before dinner. Doesn't matter to me, though."

He thought about it. He would feel a lot better if he took a shower. He hadn't used hot water in seven days. Even though Carol liked him when he came home from work all sweaty, he doubted she would want to sleep with him if he was covered in seven days' worth of funk.

"Alright, I'll go get cleaned up."

She beamed up at him. "Great! Dinner will be ready when you get out."

"Thanks," he replied before heading to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, he was clean and dressed in his boxers and a pair of low-slung jeans.

He smiled when he walked into the living room.

There were pizza boxes and hot wings set out on the coffee table, along with a case of beer. Carol sat on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her, the nightgown riding up on her smooth thighs. She was licking hot wing sauce off her thumb.

Jesus Christ. Maybe he'd died on the way home and gone to Heaven. That couldn't be right, though. Carol wasn't dead, and he certainly didn't deserve a ticket into the pearly gates.

"Feel better?" she asked him.

"Yeah."

He sat down next to her and reached for a slice of pizza. She rose up on her knees and slid behind him on the couch, her thighs wrapped around his hips and her chest pressed firmly against his back.

Her soft hands went to his bare shoulders, kneading the muscles there. Daryl groaned. He was sore, and her touch felt amazing.

"What's gotten into you?" he whispered, not that he really cared.

She kissed his neck.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing…," he murmured as her hands moved to his back, rubbing away the soreness.

She laughed and nipped his ear.

He leaned his head back, his whole body buzzing with pleasure. She ran her nails through his scalp, and he moaned.

A noise brought Daryl out of his trance. He lifted his head sharply, waiting to hear it again.

"What's wrong, Daryl?" Carol asked behind him.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Like a whining sound…"

"I don't think so."

He heard the noise again, louder this time, right underneath him.

He stood up and turned to face his wife. He had a pretty good idea of what the noise was, but he wanted to hear it from her.

"Dammit," she sighed, settling down on the couch, "I was hoping to get you all full and relaxed first."

He squinted at her. "What?"

She stood up, and he moved over to give her space between the couch and coffee table. She bent down, and he took a moment to appreciate the view of her ass. She stuck her arm under the couch and pulled out a blonde ball of fur.

The puppy squirmed in Carol's arms, licking and nipping at her face.

"Carol, what the hell?" A week ago, they'd had no pets to speak of.

She held the puppy to her face and looked at Daryl from under her long lashes.

"Daryl, he's so cute! I found him wandering around the grocery store parking lot, no collar or tags or anything."

Daryl sighed. Money was already tight, and puppies were a handful.

"Carol, we never talked about pets."

Her blue eyes were as big as saucers.

"I know, but I couldn't leave him stranded. He was hungry.

Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Can we keep him?"

"Let me see him."

She held the puppy out, and Daryl grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

The pup looked healthy enough. He also looked full-blooded Golden Retriever, which meant he'd be huge.

Daryl held the puppy against his chest, scratching behind his ears.

"Ya know he's gonna be huge, right?"

She smiled at him sweetly.

"That means he'd be good protection for me during the day."

Daryl groaned. He couldn't argue with that, and she knew it. She knew he worried about her being home alone all day since she worked from home.

He wasn't going to win this fight.

"Fine," he said finally, handing the puppy back to her.

Her face lit up, and she pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Daryl. I know you'll love him as much as I do."

She kissed him, but he pushed her away with two hands on her shoulders. Then he gave her the meanest glare he could muster and pointed a finger at her.

"I ain't cleanin' up piss and shit," he growled, only half joking.

She just laughed and kissed him.

"Yes sir."

Author's Note: Please review! Thanks!