No

Daylight crept through the cracks in the curtains as I woke, casting slivers across the rumpled sheets. The room was thick with warmth - the remnants of the night before lingering in the air like an intoxicating haze. I blinked against the brightness, the ache in my limbs serving as a vivid reminder of everything that had happened.

God.

A shiver ran down my spine as I sank deeper into the mattress, the memories pulling me under. Daryl - his hands, rough and insistent, pinning me beneath him. The growl in his throat as he whispered my name like a vow. The way his teeth had grazed my collarbone, claiming me, worshipping me with every primal thrust. He hadn’t been gentle. Not last night. It wasn’t the slow, tender lovemaking that we usually shared. It was raw and consuming, a collision of need and desperation that left me trembling.

And I’d never seen him like that before.

He'd always been careful with me - reverent in the way he touched me, even when he was overcome by hunger. But last night was something else entirely. He’d given in to himself, surrendered to the storm that raged beneath his skin. Every ounce of restraint had shattered, leaving nothing but pure, unrelenting desire. He hadn’t held back, hadn’t let a single moment pass without taking me. Over and over, like he was trying to stamp his name into my very bones.

I knew why.

We’d been through so much. The Saviors had taken and twisted, broken him in ways I could never fully understand. And even after he’d escaped, their shadow had loomed over us. Every sleepless night, every flicker of fear - it had all been because of them. But now?

They were finally finished.

And last night, my husband had reclaimed us. Every rough kiss, every almost-bruising touch - it was his way of taking back what they’d tried to steal. His lips on my skin had been a declaration. His body pressed to mine, a promise. He was free. We were free.

I turned my head, a soft smile curving my lips as I found him beside me. He was still asleep, his face slack with the rare peace that only seemed to find him in moments like these. His dark hair was a tousled mess, falling across his forehead. My heart clenched at the sight - this man, my man, who had poured every ounce of himself into me.

Carefully, I reached out, letting my fingers trace along his cheek. He stirred slightly, his lips parting with a sleepy exhale, but didn’t wake. I smiled, brushing his hair back from his face, letting my thumb graze his temple.

My lips followed the path of my fingers, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. The salt of dried sweat still clung to his skin, mingled with the faint, earthy scent that was undeniably him.

But the grime - the dirt and sweat that had clung to us both after the battle - none of it had mattered to him last night. He hadn’t cared. Not when he kissed me like he was starving. Not when he tore the clothes from my body as if the very act of touching me could cleanse away everything else.

I sighed softly, the warmth of him calling me to stay. But the stickiness on my skin told another story. My hair clung to the back of my neck, and I could feel the dried remnants of sweat and dirt caked beneath my nails.

Carefully, I peeled myself from the sheets, wincing slightly at the ache between my thighs. My body protested the loss of his warmth, but I ignored it. He needed his rest, and the least I could do was rinse away the evidence of the day before.

The adjoining bathroom was only a few steps away, the yellowed tiles cold against my feet. I twisted the knob, the pipes groaning in protest before warm water sputtered from the showerhead.

The mirror caught my eye as I passed, and I paused, unable to ignore the reflection staring back at me. My lips were swollen, kissed raw. Faint red marks littered my skin - the ghost of Daryl’s fingers, the scrape of his teeth. My cheeks flushed as the memories surged once more.

I ran the water cool for a moment, letting it shock my skin, but it did little to extinguish the lingering fire underneath. Even as I tipped my head back, letting the droplets run through my hair, I could still feel him. His rough hands. His breath on my neck. The way he growled my name like a prayer.

I turned the water back to warm and began washing my hair. Getting a comb through it was going to be interesting, my waves matted from the friction against the pillows, but I’d focus on getting it clean for now.

The water cascaded over me, rinsing away the suds as I finished, noticing the creak of the bathroom door. My eyes opened slowly, and there Daryl was - framed by the steam, that rock-solid body, that handsome face. His hair fell over his eyes, and a flush crept up his neck as our gazes locked.

I knew why he was in here. He still wanted more of me. I felt the same. But there was something else in his expression - a flicker of uncertainty, maybe even guilt.

The night had been intense. I knew it. I could still feel it in every part of me. And so could he.

I reached my hand out without a word. His eyes searched mine, but whatever he was looking for, I made sure he found it. With a soft sigh, he joined me in the shower, the water drumming gently against his skin.

For a moment, he simply stood there, head bowed as the warmth washed over him. Droplets clung to his hair, streaming down the sharp lines of his chest. I watched as they traced along the scars etched into his skin, the marks of a past he always tried to forget.

His eyes flickered upward, meeting mine once more. There was no mistaking the hunger that still simmered beneath the surface - but something softer rested there, too. Something fragile. His gaze lingered, drifting down the length of my body. My skin still bore the evidence of his touch - the faint marks along my hips, the shadow of his teeth on my collarbone.

He swallowed, his voice low and gravelly. “Did I hurt ya?”

The words twisted something deep inside me. The hesitation in his voice, the worry that darkened those gorgeous eyes - it was so achingly Daryl. Even after everything, after how desperately he’d claimed me, he still questioned whether he’d gone too far.

I stepped closer, letting the warmth of his body seep into mine. My fingers skimmed over his chest, tracing the water that clung to his skin.

“You didn’t hurt me,” I smiled, searching his face. “You never would... I loved every second.”

For a moment, he just looked at me - like he wasn’t sure whether to believe it. My thumb brushed along his jaw, coaxing him closer.

“You needed it,” I whispered. “So did I.”

Daryl’s hand came up, his fingers cupping my face with a tenderness that made my chest ache. He tilted his forehead to mine, his damp hair clinging to his skin.

“Dunno what came over me,” he rasped, “Jus’... needed ya.”

I smiled softly, the words warming me from the inside out. “I needed you, too.”

His lips parted as though he might say something more, but whatever it was never came. Instead, he kissed me. Slowly. Gently. It was nothing like last night - no desperate clash of teeth, no growled confessions of need. Just him. His lips moved against mine with aching reverence, his hands trailing along the curve of my waist.

The water poured down around us, drenching our tangled bodies as we stumbled together. My back met the cool tiles, but I hardly felt the chill. Daryl’s hands were everywhere again, but softer - mapping the swell of my hips, the dip of my spine. His thumb traced along my jaw, tilting my face to deepen the kiss.

“I love you,” I breathed against his mouth.

A soft, broken sound escaped him, and I felt it - the way his entire body seemed to sink into mine. His forehead dropped to my shoulder, his breath hot against my skin.

“I love ya,” he murmured, the words muffled and raw. “More than anythin’.”

My fingers curled in his hair, pulling him closer. “Then show me.”

And he did.

This time, there was no rush. No frantic edge of desperation. He moved with a gentleness that unraveled me - each touch, each lingering kiss, was a vow in itself. He kissed my shoulders, my collarbone, savoring every inch like I was something precious.

I gasped as his hands slid down, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrapped around his waist, and his mouth found mine once more. The warmth of the water mingled with the heat of his skin, and I melted into him.

We moved together, slow and unhurried. There was no need for words - everything we felt was written in the way he touched me, the way he whispered my name.

And when we finally shattered, it wasn’t with the fierce, consuming urgency of the night before. It was breathy. Intimate. Like the world outside didn’t exist.

He held me even after the water began to cool, his arms wrapped tightly around me as though afraid to let go. But there was no fear. Not anymore.

We were free. And we were ours.

After the shower, we sank back into the bed, and it wasn’t long until he was on me again. And again. And again.

Every time we were done, before long we were reached for each other again. It was like our bodies refused to be apart. I couldn’t stop touching him - dragging my hands over his chest, tracing the ridges of his muscles, memorizing the weight of him between my legs.

We weren’t just fucking. We were reclaiming. The room, the bed, each other. Every desperate moan, every whispered name was a declaration. A reminder that we’d survived.

Hours passed. Maybe more. Time didn’t mean a damn thing.

But eventually, a sharp knock jolted us from our haze.

“Hey, naked people!” Merle’s voice rang through the door, half-amused, half-disgusted. “Quit bumpin’ uglies. Yur needed.”

Daryl groaned, burying his face in my neck. I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped me. “Coming!” I called out, biting my lip to stifle another moan as Daryl’s mouth found my breast again, his tongue grazing over the sensitive skin.

“Goddamn, I know ya are. Jeez. Ya ain’t quiet.”

Daryl and I both erupted into quiet laughter, tangled together in a mess of sheets and limbs. But Merle's voice came again. “Office. Hurry up.”

“We should go,” I sighed, though I didn’t move.

“After,” Daryl growled, his voice mischievous. And just like that, I was lost again.

When we finally made our way into the office, it was obvious we’d missed a lot. Carol arched a brow, barely holding back a grin. “Nice of you guys to join us.”

I felt the heat creep up my neck, but I just shrugged, leaning against Daryl’s side. His hand rested possessively on my waist, as if daring anyone to comment.

Rick launched into the plan, outlining how the communities would work together now that the war with the Saviors was over. It sounded like major decisions had already been made - things that we should’ve been there for.

But the truth was, I didn’t regret a second of this morning.

After the meeting, Tara was telling me something. I half - listened, but couldn’t help watching as Daryl and Rick spoke quietly in the corner. Daryl’s body language wasn’t good - tense, guarded. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the clench of his jaw told me enough.

When we were alone, I didn’t wait. “What was that about?”

He hesitated. “Wants me to run the Sanctuary for a while. Wants us to.”

I blinked, completely caught off guard. “What… like, be there?”

“Mhm.”

My stomach twisted. “Well… how do you feel about that?”

Daryl just shrugged, but I could see the unease etched into his features.

I didn’t say anything else. Not to him.

But I had a few words for Rick.

~

Daryl was quiet in the afternoon, as we got on with jobs around the Hilltop, helping Maggie mark out a new area for crops.

When the two of them were deep in conversation about blueberry bushes, I slipped away.

“Hey,” I called, catching Rick just outside the medical trailer where Carl was recovering well. “I have a question for you... Have you lost your fucking mind?”

Rick turned, looking both confused and startled by the sharpness of my tone. “Athena-”

“You want Daryl at the Sanctuary?.” I cut him off. “The Sanctuary? Really?”

He sighed, already frustrated. “It’s not-”

“No.” I shook my head.

Rick ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. I could tell he was exhausted.

“No.” I repeated. “Have you forgotten what they did to him in that place?”

“Of course I haven’t-”

“They tortured him. Made him eat dog food. Beat him until he couldn’t stand. They wore him down until he felt like nothing.” My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. “You didn’t see what it did to him, Rick - not really. You didn’t hold him through the nightmares afterwards. You didn’t have to see him flinch when his own wife touched him... They made him believe he was worthless.”

“I thought it could be a way for him to reclaim it,” Rick said quietly.

I shook my head. “He’s already reclaimed himself. You don’t get to ask him to live with those ghosts.”

His shoulders sagged. “It was because I trust him. More than anyone.”

“Then find someone else. Don’t punish him for being loyal to you.”

He didn’t argue. He just nodded.

And that was the end of it.

After my talk with Rick, I didn’t stick around.

I ventured back to find Daryl. He wasn’t with Maggie anymore, she was talking to Carol.

I found him outside of the gates, near the tree line where the shadows gave him some cover. He was leaning against a tree, fidgeting with a stray twig between his fingers. The breeze tugged at his hair, but his face was hidden - that same guarded posture he always had when something was eating at him. He really didn’t want to return to the Sanctuary. But now he didn’t have to.

He didn’t look up when I approached, but I knew he heard me. He always did.

“Hey.” My voice was softer now, the sharp edge I’d used on Rick long gone.

His eyes flicked to me. “Hey.”

I reached out, brushing my hand along his arm. “We’re not going to the Sanctuary.”

Daryl froze. His eyes finally lifted to meet mine, confusion clouding the blue. “Huh?”

“I told Rick no.” I swallowed, the words sticking for a moment. “He can send somebody else.”

He blinked, like he hadn’t heard me right. “Ath, It’s alright-”

“No,” I repeated, stepping in closer. “You’re not going back there. It should be anybody else but you – but us.”

Daryl stared at me. I could see the unsureness behind his eyes - the guilt, the doubt, the belief that he owed Rick everything. That respecting his wishes was the only way to pay that debt.

But I wasn’t having it.

“I know why you didn’t fight him on it,” I whispered. “But you don’t owe Rick your sanity. You don’t owe anyone that.”

His hands found my waist, firm, but so damn gentle at the same time. “He thinks it’d be best.”

“Rick’s not the one who has to live with it,” I said firmly. “You are... and I don’t want to be in that hellhole either.”

Daryl didn’t answer, but his grip on me tightened. He didn’t want to admit how much the thought of that place still clawed at him. But knowing I didn’t want to go – that settled it for him. We weren’t.

I cupped his face, brushing my thumbs along his jaw. “We’re free,” I whispered, my forehead resting against his. “And I’m not letting you forget that."

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. ❤️