[23:13] Feral Daryl: They're celebrating. Grieving Olivia - but Daryl's return. Rick's spirit. Well - it's all got everyone's spirits up. Maybe even Carl's - except Carl's growing up quickly, having secrets like that. They eat. They laugh. they talk about nothing. They celebrate how Olivia was. They don't mention the... other guy. Not really. They talk about the future. About the Hilltop. About Maggie's baby. They talk a little strategy but.. not for too long, because that puts a dark tint on the mood - but Rick's back and oh he is thinking about it alright. Already he wants to go heavy into strategy, but not right now - not with Daryl looking like that. And they're eating. Good fucking food - that apple pie. Daryl's seated with Rick on one side - and Jesus on the other. He's drinking. A whole fucking lot. Hell everyone wants him to. Daryl gets the extra shots. Pats on the back. Daryl gets to drink..... Jesus' drinks that Jesus puts there conveniently or pours into Daryl's emptying glass that the guy doesn't even notice emptying. By the end he's loosened up. Had Rick's arm around his shoulder more than thrice, had both Jesus and Rick huggin' on him. There was guitar, and singing.. and some kumbaya because that shit's funny. Hell Darly even wrapped his arms around them and squeezed them close, but he doesn't... keep eye contact for long. His eyes are those slits into.... a heavy thought, pulled outward into the light by every bit of laughter and touch and care. But by the time the night wraps up.. well. They're wondering if he's gonna be okay and he nods, course, yeah. EVERYONE wants Daryl to stay the night with them. Daryl just shakes his head.. , asks for an empty room that's all he needs. Not much.

COURSE Daryl's shown to one such 'unused' room. He's too wasted to really recognize the faint scent of Jesus and the way it looks... to belong to Jesus, so he's thinking he's all alone when he gets out of the shower with nothing but a towel around his hips. He took a long one. Hot one. Scrubbed himself clean. Unless it was interrupted right then and there - but... either way, when he steps out he doesn't... anticipate Jesus there so he fucking JUMPS. He showered with a .. knife so he goes to grab it, but the moment he sees who it is he draws away. Takes a deep shaky breath - adrenaline rushing through him, and palms the back of his head. "...C'mon man." He grunts, opening the curtain and stepping out, steam washing around him like some hunter god - body thick with scars. He's tilting his chin up to look through that hair hanging in his eyes - cuz he never moves it out of his face, and presses the bottle of some of that Hilltop scotch to his lips, tilting it up for another swig, drunken eyes on Jesus. The other hand? Well that goes to the front of his towel that's starting to slip.
[23:13] Feral Daryl: and of course feel free to interfere if any of this is not like what Jesus would do)
[23:18] Feral Daryl: Aaand if you prefer grimy dirty Daryl i fucking love that shit too i just figured the character would just fucking throw himself into a shower.. shower cuz of all the bathtub waterboarding hehe)
[23:29] J e s u s watches Daryl savor the reunion with his friends with a somber, contemplative expression. He hides those smiles for when only Daryl is looking his way and gives the man an encouraging nod every time he pushes his drinks toward him. It's not that he's trying to get the older man drunk. It's just... he can see that he needs it, clearly. He can only imagine what must be going through the redneck's head after taking a life like that. He even chimed in to sing along as Daryl held him and Rick close.

At the end, with everybody heading to different rooms to sleep, Jesus takes it upon himself to bring Daryl back to his trailer. Maggie, Enid, and Sasha are all in the house now, a small group had formed together to insist on them being given their own rooms much to Gregory's displeasure. Jesus? He's a bit tipsy himself, couldn't let Daryl take all those drinks after all. So while the redneck heads to the bathroom to wash, he just stretches out across his couch. He's half asleep by the time Daryl comes out and chuckles softly as he lifts his head to watch him standing there with the knife. He should probably be concerned, after watching the way the man had smashed another's head in earlier that day, but he just smiles wide and pushes himself to sit up a little straighter. "Come on and what, Daryl? You can have the bedroom, the bed. I thought I'd stay right here on the couch. Unless you had other plans?" He sits up further, swinging his legs over the edge to give Daryl room to sit, if he decides he wants to at least.
[23:38] Feral Daryl leans in the doorway for a while, draping himself over it like some long cat - still holding the bottle. He's watching Jesus with those narrow eyes of his, though not narrowed. Just watching him. There's a sway to his posture, but his gaze seems clear despite the intoxicated veil of it. The man inside needed a drink - needed to get drunk, and he is. And there's a weird gratitude in his eyes - well, other than the obvious being saved, for Jesus to help him get the right level of drunk he needed. He turns, and fetches a pack of smokes someone no doubt slipped him [33.media.tumblr.com], lights her up, the towel dropping a bit to reveal some of the crack of his ass. He's still not drunk enough to let it fall - gets it bunched up, ties it, then slips into a robe - Jesus' robe, probably, or someone's. Lets the towel fall, and walks out, tightening the belt sloppily. "Yer' a piece of work." He tells Jesus, walking over and plopping down beside him. Elbows on thighs, bent forward, smoke in his mouth, bottle in another, he changes that order, takes a swig... takes a deeeep drag. Knows Jesus don't like the smell so he takes another long drag - and puts it out on his pie plate. The pie's long gone, he ate it. Clasping the bottle in both hands - holding it by the neck like some object of prayer, Daryl tears his gaze away from Jesus and looks between his bare feet. "...Thank you." Wasn't Rick who came for him. Wasn't Carl. Though he'd never even think about it like that and pity himself. But it was Jesus.
[23:53] J e s u s shivers a bit as that clear gaze watches him from across the room. After their last night alone together had ended rather abruptly, he couldn't help feeling like there had been some unfinished business lingering between them. So he eats up the way he lingers in the bathroom doorway, swaying, drinking, and eyeing him up with more hunger than he cares to admit. Then Daryl's pulling out a cigarette and he has to turn his face away to hide a vague grimace. So he's not looking as that robe is pulled on. It's definitely his and not quite long enough for Daryl's arms. But it looks real damn cute on him, so Jesus just grins as he strolls over wearing it and drops beside him. He shifts further onto his half of the couch, making sure to give the man all the room he needs, if only to resist the urge to reach out and touch. "Yeah, I have been told that," he agrees with a chuckle, only to sigh in relief when the cigarette is put out. When he looks back to find Daryl staring, he flashes him a smile only to take on a more serious expression when the thanks is given. "Of course," he answers, like it should be the most obvious thing in the world. "I wasn't going to leave until I knew you were safe."
[00:00] System: Skinny Steve Rogers is offline.
[00:02] Feral Daryl peers over at Jesus through his hair, turning his face a little, still leaning forward on his elbows, resting on thighs. Now it's like Daryl's the one who can't seem to take his gaze away. There are dark circles under his eyes, some sort of nightmares in the eyes themselves, but so much fierce spirit. So much animal instinct that woulda kept him strong for so long. Or maybe not so long. Not after what happened in that cell and the way Negan fed him and... He grunts, features darkening for a moment. And then he scoots himself closer to Jesus... moving his gaze away like a haughty fucking cat who comes over but won't admit it wants to get pet. Just... present himself a bit, and stare forward. And if Jesus is not getting the hint, then he scoots over to sit thigh to thigh. Touching. His hands are clasped now between his knees, hanging off into thin air, his eyes squinting at Jesus, gleaming with humor. "...you got such a fuckin' girly handwritin. Mightas well ave write: 'Loopdy loo ah come to save you'."
[00:02] System: Officer Shane Walsh is online.
[00:06] System: Skinny Steve Rogers is online.
[00:07] Feral Daryl grins
[00:10] J e s u s smiles at first as Daryl watches him. But as time passes and the man's gaze refuses to waiver, he starts to feel a little unnerved. He shifts a bit as those features darken, forcing himself to look at the book he'd left sitting on the coffee table. He doesn't take the hint when the older man scoots closer. At least not at first. It's not until their thighs are touching that he realizes what he's after. With a smile, he slides a hand up to give his shoulder a squeeze. The next comment causes his brows to knit together though and for a moment he's confused by the comment. "Well, next time I come to your rescue, I'll be sure to write that down for you," he promises as his hand sliiiides across that other shoulder to draw Daryl in closer, real sly like. He's leaning in too, resting his chin on the shoulder of that robe, his robe. "I thought I'd lost you, you know. Would have been a damn shame.... a waste..." He shifts a little closer and his nose might just brush up against the shell of the redneck's ear, just barely, before a warm breath washes over it.
[00:18] System: Skinny Steve Rogers is offline.
[00:22] Feral Daryl breathes deeper into the closeness. A little faster too. There's a rise and swell of his chest, collarbones sharp like crossbows, jutting out into the muscle of broad shoulder. Jesus resting his chin on it like that... gets Daryl looking. Turning his head. Putting their faces too damn close for their own good. His narrow eyes roam over that pretty face, the large - beautiful, really, blue eyes of the other. His gaze flickers between them, and his breath falters a little when that little nose brushes his lobe. He puts the bottle down - it's so damn precarious on the edge cuz he's not even really paying attention to it, and moves, gripping Jesus by the throat. The gesture might even come off as hostile. He's so fast. So strong. With so much desperate need in it. Except if Daryl was attacking - he sure has a funny way of doing that crushing his lips to the other's. Shoving him into the armrest, lifting up onto his knees on the couch. His other arm scoops Jesus' own thighs, and legs, right onto the couch, under him, and the redneck lays right on down. He's so damn warm - like a furnace. And he's growing hard too - and he's not shy about the way his hips roll right into the other's, brushing groin to groin. Except his own cock's just behind the fold of that robe. Damp hair still wet from the shower falls over Jesus' face. He tastes like liquor and smoke, and warmth, and he's inhaling all the warmth that Jesus has to give. His hand? Loosens on that throat, now that the prey is caught... he still pins his shoulder, just to make sure Jesus won't be running off, like it was Jesus who ran off that last time. "A waste." Daryl repeats, voice low, breathed like a secret. But he's not talking about his own life. His hands? They hurry with need - pulling off Jesus' cap, shoving apart his jacket, unbuckling him, pulling clothes up, over, in that desperate effort to show him as much flesh as possible.
[00:23] Feral Daryl >_>
[00:23] Feral Daryl: shut up
[00:37] J e s u s wasn't really sure what he'd been expecting, but he smiles at the way Daryl looks at him and it grows wider when that bottle is set aside. But then the older man is gripping him by the throat and his eyes widen as his expression crumbles away to sheer surprise. He gulps against that grip and lets out a startled groan into Daryl's lips as he's pushed back against the armrest. For all of his fighting abilities, the smaller man makes no effort to resist as he's manhandled but his heart is pounding and he lets out another, more certain moan into Daryl's lips as he feels the man's hips rolling against his own body. His tongue flicks out against Daryl's lips and when that grip on his throat finally eases up, he draws in shaky breath and stares up at the biker with an awestruck expression as his shoulder is pinned instead. "Yeah... a real waste," he agrees in a breathless tone. He grins as his cap is shoved off though, helping the older man to shrug his coat off. Then his pants are being opened and he lets out a weak laugh as he tries to help. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it onto the floor, leaning up to try to kiss the man again while those hands are distracted with pulling his pants off. Not exactly what he had in mind but he's definitely not about to complain.
[00:52] Feral Daryl leans down over Jesus, spine arched, wanting, getting.. paused for a moment by that kiss. Nobody ever kisses him. It's a gentle thing, gives him a little start, spooks him maybe. So his hand pauses with the clothes tearing and goes up to take that bearded jaw and run his fingers through the facial hair. Then take a handful of that silken head hair, and pull that closer against their face, so he can smell it too while he kisses him, that greedy tongue softening enough to make it... almost tender. When he pulls back his eyes are lidded slits of feeling. He grabs that jaw, harder now, and growls right into that face sternly "Don't ever do somethin' stupid like that 'gain for me. Y'know what he'd do to ya? Lookin' like this? With them pretty eyes?" Then his brows draw up like he slapped Jesus. Ugh why'd he have to mention him. He shakes his head, those damp hair saving him like a curtain falling over his face. Then leans down to kiss him again, possessively, making his claim. Daryl sits up to shove Jesus' boots off. Then his socks. The rest of his pants. He squeezes the balls of his feet. Hell, he brings one right up to his mouth and nibbles on the blade of that foot, looking right at him, like a playful animal driven by instinct. Then, he looks about, at the little space the couch offers, tears off the rest of Jesus' pants, and scoops him up, like a fucking damsel, staggering a little with drink. Somehow they make it into the bedroom, where Daryl throws Jesus on the wide bed, and tumbles in after him. He straddles the man, then lifts up, hands working to draw off whatever rest of clothes Jesus might have till he's naked. Yeah the briefs come off - and he's startled for a second to see him. So fucking pretty and... male. Staring at Jesus' cock as though in a daze, he unties the belt of his robe, and lets it drop down his scarred shoulders and muscled limbs, exposing a hard stomach bruised in a few places, an erect, nice cock, curved, with plum-sized balls. He moves right on over Jesus, and takes his throat in his lips, and breathes into it: "...You wan' it? Ah wan' it, ah wanchu bad..."
[00:52] System: Daryl-Dixon is offline.
[00:56] Feral Daryl: probably pretty hairy unless Negan ... shaved or trimmed him in which case he's not gonna be showing it off much and duck on right over Jesus. Daryl likes carryin' the little guy btw)
[00:57] J e s u s: Omg lol I'm dying.
[00:58] Feral Daryl grunts "This ain't funny! I'm bein all romantic n' shit"
[00:58] J e s u s: Romantic caveman
[00:59] Feral Daryl drops the hair he's been smelling and grunts
[01:00] J e s u s: "Me stick dingdong in you bumbum." omgggg okay okay I'm posting.
[01:00] Feral Daryl ....
[01:00] J e s u s: Shhhh, I totally blame the wine/cough syrup combination, it is totally hot though I'm just being a dork.
[01:01] System: Tony Stark is online.
[01:01] Feral Daryl does see Daryl trying to play it off like they're totally not gay but if he sees Jesus making eyes on any other dudes he's gonna be all 'Keep them pretty eyes on me!' )
[01:16] J e s u s looks a little uncertain when Daryl pauses like that, half worried that maybe the kiss had been the wrong move to make. He'd never forgive himself if he manages to scare Daryl away after coming this far. But then he feels those fingers lacing through his chin hair, working into the silkier strands on his head, and he smiles as the kiss is returned, eager for a chance to lose himself in it. He winces when his jaw is grabbed though, looking up into Daryl's eyes in surprise when he's scolded like that. His brows draw together a bit, because those last two questions really help to paint the picture for him and he's staring up at the biker with an expression that's... well, it's not quite pity, but something damn close. He doesn't say anything though and groans when those lips press against his own like that. He opens his mouth in surrender to the claim, tongue reaching out to brush against the man's lips. Then his boots and socks are being tugged off and he can't help chuckling softly as his pants are tossed aside to boot. The attention to his feet draws a pleasantly surprised murmur from his lips and he lats back to watch in amusement as his feet are rubbed and nibbled at. Something about the way the older man stares at him while he does it makes him shiver. Before it can go much further though, he's being hoisted off the bed.

Letting out a startled cry, he laughs as he's carried through the trailer to the bedroom, bouncing a bit as he's dropped on the bed. He's just scooting up a little closer to the headboard when Daryl comes dropping down after him, tugging off his boxer-briefs and tossing them the way of the rest of his clothing. Sprawled across the bed naked, Jesus is struck by a sudden and unfamiliar feeling of self-consciousness when the larger, rugged man stops to stare down at him like that. He's sprawled, much like he'd been when Daryl and Rick had caught him after stealing the truck and had their guns aimed on him. Only there's nothing to block the view of his body now and just when he's starting to worry, Daryl undoes the belt on that robe and lets it fall away. He gulps and drinks in the sight with a hunger of his own, gaze flicking back up to Daryl's face when he's asked if he wants it. All at once, a grin is stretching wide across his lips and he nods his head. "Of course I want it," he gasps softly, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world. Then he glances toward his nightstand. "There's lube in there. Not sure if you've ever, uh, done this before... but we're going to need it."
[01:19] Feral Daryl groans lustily "of course he's sprawled like that"
[01:19] J e s u s: Knew you'd like that.
[01:20] J e s u s: Was tempted to link it in the post but something told me you have it burned into the backs of your retinas already.
[01:20] Feral Daryl actually has it pulled up on a tab
[01:21] J e s u s: Lmao had a feeling you were oggling it.
[01:26] Feral Daryl: We sharing Daryl or we making him a no homo virgin)
[01:27] J e s u s: Up to you
[01:28] System: Tony Stark is offline.
[01:28] System: Officer Shane Walsh is offline.
[01:34] Feral Daryl: Pity? Oh if Daryl detects a fucking ounce of pity he's gonna give Jesus a real fierce gaze, the cut-that-out gaze, because Daryl doesn't do pity! Well, it's his defense mechanism. But he can't get mad at Jesus like that and besides... no way in hell does Jesus know about that. Now... that insecure little bit with them puppy eyes sprawled out like that? Makes Daryl damn near shudder, like an excited animal ready to mount another. His hand feels Jesus' chest, fingers over nipples, the curve of the armpit. Then down that hand trails, over hips... pointedly going.. err.. around his package, because... "Course ah done somethin' like this! Ah done loadsa things!" He bristles, all super experience. Well. He's 'done' Merle if we're sharyng Daryls, but otherwise.. he's also done loads of them hookers Merle paid for! Even if Daryl really didn't like doing it like that... for money. But an ass is an ass and... when he goes to take and fondle Jesus' cock, there's something familiar in the way he does it - at least to a man who has experience with that... sorta thing. But hey - whether he did or not... he's been in Negan's captivity and that sure as hell was something - as far as experience goes.

But he strokes him more like he strokes himself. Doesn't know Jesus or how to touch him. And when Jesus mentions lube Daryl looks on over towards the nightstand and reaches for it. Squirts it onto his palm and... rubs it all around his dick, and dips his hand lower under Jesus' balls, and rubs him all up there. He even shoves a pillow under his ass cuz... even though Daryl's not really an eye contact kinda guy he's really liking to look at them pretty eyes. Tentatively, he presses against that little pucker with his thumb, till it gives, then slides it inside, working the digit in slow strokes. His adam's apple bobs, and his face is a little flushed, probably from the alcohol, and his dick is hard, hard despite all that, hard and curved and veiny and pale and leaking. He's got no idea what to say now, so he doesn't say anything. But he looks hungry. Doesn't dwell on it. Pushes another finger in, puts their cocks together, and strokes them. Working a third lubed finger in, he pulls them all out in favor of putting his cock there. Oh he's not all tender gentle like Negan. He's driven by a primal lust, when he starts to push inside, hips and pressure breaking through that tight pucker. The redneck grunts, draws in hoarse breath, starts working his cock in with short rolls and thrusts, leaning over to bite at those pretty lips, swallow the moans and gulps of pain, lean down and bite the throat in that almost feral way signifying he's alpha.
[01:56] J e s u s could never pity a man like Daryl, if only because he knows the man would never have it. He loves that hungry look in the hunter's eyes though, the way that hand roams over his body. There's something feral in him, or maybe that's just the booze, but whatever it is it makes the smaller of the pair incredibly aroused. To make matters better, that hand doesn't seem to shy away from his cock, which throbs and twitches visibly in response. He scoffs at that apparent offense and drops to sprawl back against the bed with a roll of his eyes. "Pardon me for not realizing your expertise," he teases, glancing up at the older man once again with a fond smile. Then that calloused hand wraps around his cock and he tips his head back with a groan of approval, arching up a bit into the contact.

If Daryl doesn't want to talk, they don't have to talk. He sighs and rumbles out soft sounds of appreciation as the redneck jerks his cock, only to rake his fingers through his hair and grin when the lube is brought into play. His head cants to the side a bit and he takes an opportunity to admire the sight of the older man stroking it onto himself. But when that hand slips between his legs, he spreads his thighs and even lifts his ass up a bit to give him as much access as he needs. Because even if Daryl is insisting that he's a gay sex guru, he has a hard time believing it. The pillow draws another chuckle from him but he's happy for the extra lift and certainly doesn't dispute the position. He enjoys watching the man's face as those fingers slip inside of him, one after the other, face tipping up toward the ceiling a bit more as he's filled. Then those fingers are pulling out and Daryl is slipping up between his thighs, making his heart skip a beat. If he'd been expecting a tender moment though, he's in for a surprise. The initial penetration is a bit more rushed than he'd been planning, making the younger man grunt softly and wince beneath his drunken partner. "Nngh, fuck Daryl," he gasps as those short but determined thrusts start pressing their way deeper into him. He reaches up to grasp at the man's shoulders as his mouth is bitten and kissed at like that. The bite to his neck draws a startled moan from him though and his thighs press against the biker's hips as his body arches in response. Daryl's being rough, almost too rough, but that doesn't seem to discourage the stiff cock still aching between his own legs. With a sound that's dangerously close to a whine, he slides a hand down to start stroking himself slowly.
[02:11] Feral Daryl works his hips until that full insertion, too fast for the gentleness. There's a nervous, eager shiver in the way his muscles flex, and sheen with sweat. Has he ever been on the.. giving end? With a man? There's a kind of alien awkwardness to him, first in the shift of his stomach to give Jesus more space to stroke himself... then in that... actual staring of the man masturbating while he's working his cock all the way in, with grunts, and huffs of air, growls. He'd been holding his cock straight in the beginning but now the hand falls away so he can pull at an asscheek to further work himself in, moving like a wave, oncoming and merciless in the strong rhythm he establishes without much time for preparation. Oh he wants this, and when he lifts his face, hair trickle over Jesus' face, hanging around Daryl's. He tries his fingers for those pretty lips - dips them inside, to see what happens. Pulls them back slowly, and puts them into his own mouth, sucking his taste, then ducking down to take him in a kiss. And then he lifts up, puts Jesus' knees up over his shoulders, and starts to fuck him.

The bed groans and shudders - headboard slamming against the trailer wall. Loud, lewd noises of balls slapping against buttocks join the savage rutting grunts, sharp intakes of air. He flicks the hair out of his eyes when it starts to grow wet with sweat, and gleams with it. His abs work hard, flexing, while his ass becomes a block of iron, drilling that dick into Jesus with a ferocious need. And when he grows close - several times - he just stops.. midway, breathing hard, chest rising and falling like after a marathon, which this damn near is. He concentrates, closes his eyes, opens them again. Thinks of walkers - keeps going. He shoves Jesus onto his side, and hugs his legs against his chest, fucking him from an angle. Then he rolls him over onto his fours, hand gripping those silken long strands, sniffing them as he pounds that ass so hard it jiggles. "...Jesus, god damn... I'm.. I gotta.." the biker breathes hoarsely, when his heart's really thudding, as he's bowed over the other, lips and facial hair brushing against that man's ear. He fists them locks, draws them back, bites the nape of that throat, and sheaths himself with a low needy grunt. A shuddering breath follows, and warmth floods the other as the biker pumps his ass full of seed.