A Broken World

Fifty

Daryl

Daryl’s heart was pounding as he pulled her closer, feeling the heat of her body through the thin fabric of their clothes. Everything around them faded. The cold night air, the distant groans of the walkers—it all seemed miles away. All he could focus on was the feel of her pressed against him, the warmth of her skin, and the taste of her lips.

She was so close now, her breath mingling with his, soft and shaky, like she was holding back something. But he wasn’t going to let her. Not this time. He needed her just as much as she needed him. Hell, maybe even more. Years of wanting her, of regretting things left unsaid, of pretending they didn’t matter—none of it mattered now.

His hands slid from her waist to her back, pulling her tighter. She was intoxicating, like fire and smoke—so close, so real. He kissed her harder, feeling the heat of her mouth and the way her body responded to his touch. He wasn’t gentle, couldn’t be—not with her. Not after everything they’d been through, everything they had lost.

She pulled away slightly, her breath coming in soft gasps. “Daryl…” Her voice cracked, barely a whisper, but it was enough to make him pause. He couldn’t look at her and not feel every ounce of the past between them.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. She was looking at him with that same need he felt burning in his chest.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice rough. He needed to know. He wasn’t the kind of man who gave himself to something half-hearted. Not anymore.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

That was all he needed. He kissed her again, this time slower, more deliberate, tasting every inch of her. His hands slid down to her thighs, lifting her up effortlessly, pressing her body against the wall behind them. His chest was tight, every nerve alive with the heat of her.

The way she clung to him—her hands pulling at his shirt, desperate to feel him against her skin—made his head spin. He didn’t think. He just moved. The world felt like it was closing in on them, but it didn’t matter. He was done holding back. Done pretending.

Her lips were on his neck now, soft, teasing. He could feel the pulse in her throat, the heat of her breath against his skin. He let out a breathless chuckle, his fingers digging into her thighs as he moved against her, his pulse hammering in his ears.

"Daryl…" she whispered again, but this time, it was like a prayer, like a plea.

He didn’t have the words. Didn’t need them. He kissed her again, rougher now, his hands moving to her back, pulling her closer, wanting more. Wanting all of her.

He could feel the tension in her body, the way she was clinging to him like she was scared to let go. He didn't want her to let go. Not now, not ever. But he knew the damage they had both done. The years they'd lost. The mistakes.

But now? Now it was just the two of them. No past. No mistakes. Only at this moment. He wasn't going to let it slip away.

He pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, and for a second, everything felt still. "You still want this?" he asked, the words barely more than a rasp. He needed to hear her say it. Needed to know she was as all in as he was.

She didn't answer with words.

Instead, she grabbed his face in her hands, her lips finding his again, urgent and needy. She was everything he'd been waiting for. Everything he hadn't even known he needed until now.

"I need you," she breathed, and that was enough.

He kissed her harder, his hands roaming, pulling at her clothes, desperate to feel her skin. Every part of him was burning, every sense heightened. She was everything. He couldn't stop now, wouldn't. He wasn't sure he could ever let her go again.