dadyl | 𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 ;

[ Oh, that's nice. Gabe hums into the kiss, running a hand through Daryl's hair. Gentle, this time. There's something in the air. A sea change. Something calmer, a little quieter, and the sick feeling is still there but it's lessened, softened. They can survive it. He shivers, hissing out a sigh as Daryl rocks against him because that feels good, too. That's real, that's his.

Fuck. ]

Maybe.

[ He adds a bit of a drawl to it, his original accent bleeding through. All the consonants going sharp. He cups Daryl's cheek for a moment, then - just because he can - bops him on the nose. ]

What if I was?

[ He likes that accent when it shows up. It's one of the few almost homey things that Daryl has found in Hell, other than his own people. Little things that make him feel slightly less than completely displaced.

But when he's literally bopped on the nose he blinks like a cat and then has to turn his face away to laugh. It's soft and it's short, but it's real. Daryl lets his forehead fall against Gabe's shoulder as he sighs out another almost-chuckle and turns his face into his neck. ]

I'd say you got bad taste.

[ It's just the truth, self-depricating as it sounds. But he's also curious in a way he might have been able to ignore without Hell's magic echoing through him, making curiosity feel hot and important. There's another way he can do what's needed, he realizes. ]

Tell me what you were thinkin' about.

[ It's rumbled very quietly but it has a whisper of authority in it. Daryl punctuates the command by kissing Gabe's pulse, letting his teeth and lips drag. ]

[ Gabe snorts at that, cupping the back of Daryl's neck. A fond gesture. At least they can laugh, a little. Even under the circumstances. ]

Excuse you. I have awesome taste.

[ He sighs, groaning as Daryl drags his teeth along his neck. Goddamn. ]

Thought about your hands. How your calluses feel. Goddamn, I thought about that a lot.

[ Daryl isn't expecting the flattery to go right to his groin but it does, settling on a boil where they're pressed together. He's never considered that something like his calluses might be attractive to someone. Something that marks how worn he is, or how old. It makes him pull back to look at Gabe properly. Shy. ]

Yeah?

[ He tries not to sound disbelieving and decides to test the admission, letting both hands drag firmly from Gabe's hips to his waist under his shirt. His skin is warm again even after the cold shower and Daryl tries not to worry. ]

What was I doin' with 'em?

[ Oh, fuck. Gabe hisses, his stomach jumping, and bites back a whine. He lies back down and pulls Daryl with him, rocking into it. He fights the urge to lean forward and just bite Daryl on the shoulder.

Slow. This ought to be slow. ]

Holding me still.

[ He grins. ]

Up against a wall, while I got my legs around you.

[ Daryl throbs just hearing the suggestion but his arms also ache at the thought; he's still exhausted from the panic of the rescue, from the days after spent awake and watching out for Carol. He's tired to the bone, overheated and off-balance from the magic, but the image is also setting him on fire. ]

Put 'em around me now.

[ He wants a part of it, at least, and he wants it immediately. When Gabe obliges, Daryl runs his hands over his thighs and squeezes hard, holding him to the mattress with rocking pressure. ]

Against the wall, huh? [ He teases it with a quick kiss, but then he breaks away to ask carefully: ] Thought you didn't want me holdin' you down?

[ Goddamn, those hands. Gabe bites off a breathless groan, arching under Daryl. Holding tight. Everything aches now. He's inching back up towards overheating but it's slower this time. The sick feeling is there but less. It helps, to focus on the physical. Daryl's weight over him, the way he feels when Gabe wraps his legs around him. Holds him close.

He shivers, one hand on the back of Daryl's neck. An anchor point. ]

It's okay. If you don't pin my hands.

[ Sometimes he can handle that. Sometimes he likes that. Not tonight. But the rest?

The rest, he thinks he'll like just fine. ]

[ It's been impossible for Daryl to forget how responsive Gabe is, but it still makes him stare. Makes him bite his lip and rumble out a groan because the friction is so much and not nearly enough. He nods thoughtfully against the hand gripping his neck. Everything in him screams that it's important to give Gabe what he wants. It's imperative. ]

Alright.

[ He says it quietly before sitting up and leaning back on his thighs to give Gabe room. The sight of him lying there hard and straining his pants makes Daryl a little breathless though, and he spanks Gabe hard on the flank. ]

Get up, then.

[ It startles laughter out of him, sharp and sudden and yes. Adrenaline kicking right back up, keeping him here. Right here, right now, in this moment - and there's a part of him that instinctively wants to turn sharp because why the fuck not, but he holds back. He remembers himself and when he pushes himself up on his elbows, his expression is serious. ]

I'm not laughing at you.

[ He remembers. He's good at that, too. And then he starts undoing the buttons to his shirt. ]

Help me with this.

[ Daryl's heart clenches when Gabe laughs, but it isn't until he'd told that he isn't being laughed at that Daryl realizes he didn't take it that way this time. Something easy has settled between them. He isn't jumping at every response from Gabe anymore and looking for the malice in it.

It's all just... easy. ]

I know.

[ He pats the same spot he just smacked, pausing to squeeze in a reassuring way. It means a lot to him that Gabe is still being careful. He doesn't seem like the type who often is. ]

Yessir.

[ And it means that Daryl gets to tease him back. His own shirt is still hanging undone and open and he gives Gabe a hand doing the same, then slips his rough hands under the hem of whatever Gabe's wearing as a second layer to offer to get it up and over his head. ]

You gonna handle my belt for me?

[ He doesn't need the help. It just feels exciting and sickly right to ask for it. ]

[ And just like that, they've got a balance. Give and take. Gabe hums, pleased and utterly unafraid to show it, and shivers at the feel of Daryl's hands against his skin. It's good, the way the calluses catch against his scars. Keeps him focused, keeps him centered in the moment and in himself. He grins, shrugging his undershirt off as well. Lets it drop. ]

Mhmm.

[ He runs his hand down Daryl's side until he finds his belt, curling his fingers around it. Then he gives it a tug, just to fucking do it, and grins. ]

Yeah.

[ He grins, because he feels alive and in control of himself for the first time in a while - at least since he got fucked up on Hell's latest game - and he goes for Daryl's buckle. Gets it loose and then yanks it off in a smooth, fluid motion. ]

[ Daryl huffs out another laugh and catches himself smiling when Gabe tugs on his belt like reins. His hips lurch forward when he's caught slightly off-balance but then Gabe is unbuckling him and Daryl has to remind himself to take a breath.

It's playful. Daryl couldn't have expected it any less. ]

Thanks.

[ His voice has pitched lower again and before he can get carried away, Daryl rolls off of him and gets off the bed. Then, the moment Gabe sits up, Daryl reaches down smoothly to grab him by the waist with both hands and lift him up onto his feet. He hooks the fingers of one hand into Gabe's belt to tug him close. He doesn't quite have the confidence to smirk, but the entire thing is a cocky maneuver nonetheless. ]

How d'you get t'me like this? Huh?

[ He knows that Hell's magic is fucking with him. He knows he's been dosed or high or not himself every time they've fucked. But he isn't stupid enough to try and tell himself that's all it is. Neither does he really expect an answer, he realizes, so before Gabe can say anything, Daryl kisses him again. ]

[ Oh, damn that's hot. Sometimes it just hits him sideways, how strong Daryl is. Gabe huffs, breathless already. Hell magic, adrenaline, some mix of the two. Whatever. This feels better than suffering through another round of fighting it, trying to force himself into equilibrium. It's better than wanting to go down on his knees because whatever the magic - fuck, magic is real - whatever this shit wants, it seems to go best when it's mutual. A team sport, he thinks inanely, and that's when Daryl kisses him.

Gabe sighs into it, running his hands down Daryl's sides. ]

Dunno. I'm just me.

[ He leans back and grins. ]

C'mere.

[ Daryl doesn't have to be told twice, and even if he wasn't being compelled by a will other than his own, the command would have resulted in the same thing. Daryl has never minded being directed by someone who knows what they're doing and he backs Gabe slowly into the wall beside the bed, following the lead of that grin and the hands that are already making him shiver.

He gets a thigh in between Gabe's legs and Daryl holds him there with it, using the pressure of something solid behind the other man to fully impose his size on him. Daryl finally shrugs out of his shirt and, lips hovering above Gabe's but refusing to close the distance, he takes Gabe's hand and puts it on the waistband of his jeans. Holds it there. Daryl's whole body seems taut with anticipation but when he speaks, his voice comes out surprisingly steady. ]

You gonna let me out?

[ Without his belt his jeans are riding low on his hips and there's hardly anything hiding what wants attention. ]

[ Yeah. That hits the fucking spot. Gabe lets Daryl walk him back and his breath hitches once his shoulders hit the wall, everything ratcheting up. All the adrenaline without the sharpness of a fight and oh, fuck. He could just grab Daryl and grind against him. Ride that edge higher and higher until it crests.

He grins, curling his fingers into the hem of Daryl’s jeans. Popping the button. ]

Gonna make you work for it.

[ A soft, breathless promise. But he doesn’t waste time, just presses his hand in and curls his fingers. No preamble. He’s shivering a little. ]

C’mon.

Oh, yeah?

[ There's a hint of amusement in Daryl's growl but any sliver of game he might have had flies out the window when Gabe takes hold of his cock. His forehead clunks against the wall behind Gabe for a second or two as he tries to grab the edges of the moment and hold on. He lets out a slow, stuttering breath and thrusts against Gabe's body, thoroughly distracted for a few long, deliberate rocks. ]

Can't get your legs 'round me with these on.

[ He pulls Gabe's belt open one-handed but it isn't without fumbling. Daryl is finding it hard to concentrate with the hand in his jeans toying with him, but he turns to press a hot kiss to Gabe's ear before remembering his job. ]

Take-- take 'em off.

[ Hah. That’s a hit, clearly. Gabe grins, shivering at the kiss to his ear, and bites off a groan. There’s a part of him that wants to just get Daryl off with his hands, so he could hear it play out, but he has a feeling it wouldn’t be enough. Hell magic is fun like that. ]

Yeah.

[ It comes out more than a little breathless. He keeps a hand on Daryl’s cock just because he can, and just shoves his pants down low on his hips. After a moment, he remembers to toe out of his boots, too.

Fuck, it feels good to do what he’s told. That might hit him strange later, but not right now. Right now, it feels like a great fucking idea. ]

[ Daryl surges forward once there aren't any layers left between them and grunts against Gabe's neck when they connect. For a flash, Daryl considers telling Gabe to get on his knees. The image has been lurking in his head since Gabe had mentioned it but Daryl fights the urge to demand it even now. He doesn't like being focused on like that, he's almost sure of that no matter how much the magic insists it would be a good idea. Can he come up with some other order? What does he want enough to ask for it?

It's trying so hard not to take that gets Daryl thinking about giving. ]

Turn around.

[ Daryl grabs Gabe by his hips, fingers rubbing against scars. He's a little rough and more than ready to help him if he hesitates for too long. ]

An' put your hands on the wall.

[ Gabe’s taken a lot of scars over his life. Some of them have faded to the point he doesn’t remember what caused them in the first place. There are a few that he had surgically removed before they could fuck up his mobility. And then there are a few that lingered long after the fact, marks that he’s carried and occasionally taps his nails against. Tracing the shape of them and remembering. There’s a deep slash on his right side, curving along his hipbone, and that’s one he lingers over from time to time. It was the first scar that Jackie gave him, a parting gift from the job that forced them into collision, and it never healed right. He traces it sometimes. Remembers. And now Daryl’s doing the same and it curls through Gabe, heat and intensity and everything. His breath hitches, his hands running down Daryl’s back.

Tracing scars. Feels like a theme with them. He doesn’t linger but he doesn’t avoid them either. ]

Yeah.

[ His voice is rough. He’s hard enough to break rocks and Gabe shivers when he does what he’s told, pressing his palms flat against the wall. ]

[ Daryl feels a stab of dark satisfaction when Gabe does as he's told, enough to offset the lurch of physical disappointment he feels when Gabe stops touching him. He moves in on him immediately, hands still on his hips as he rubs up against Gabe, gaining his confidence back from behind as he drags himself, hard and hot, over Gabe's ass. He notices the bite scar he'd left on on him the first time and closes his mouth over it again, sinking his teeth into the skin in a faint ghost of the gesture. ]

Good boy.

[ He says it without thinking, rough and low and full of praise, and drags his hands from Gabe's hips up to his shoulders and back down again. Daryl only hesitates for a moment before reaching around to feel how hard he's made him. ]

Oh, fuck.

[ He breathes it against Gabe's neck, stroking him in an almost exploratory way from root to tip and back down again, learning him properly for the first time. ]

Oh, fuck.

[ In a different moment, with someone else, Gabe thinks he would have snarled at whoever threw that at him. With a stranger, it would have been a taunt. Something worth responding to with violence. In another moment, he would've obliged. In this one, he just groans, bowing his head and shivering all over as Daryl sinks his teeth into Gabe's shoulder.

Fucking hell, that should not make him as hard as it does.

He rocks back, liking the way that Daryl presses against him. Boxing him in. And the way that Daryl touches him now, the feel of his calluses. He grins at nothing, breathless. ]

Yeah.

[ Fuck, yeah. ]

[ Daryl loves the way he shivers, decides quickly that he likes having another way to make Gabe feel good, and Daryl groans behind his ear and touches him in the rough-but-teasing way he himself likes to be touched - on the very rare occasions that someone has been there to do it for him. Every time Gabe rocks back Daryl surges forward, making the other man work to keep any space between himself and the wall, cursing hot under his breath as he leaves a wet trail of precum on the small of Gabe's back.

And then suddenly Daryl has let go of him and pulled away to yank Gabe's pants down to his ankles, kneeling as he does so. ]

Get outta these. Now.

[ But Daryl is growing impatient and the moment Gabe has stepped one foot out of the tangled trap of denim he yanks his hips back so Gabe has to double over if he wants to keep his hands on the wall like he was told. ]

Fuck... Lookit you.

[ It's rough, it's got that edge that Gabe craves every goddamn time he lets a man back him into a wall and handle him. Every time he lets it swing toward sex and not violence. He drags his nails against the wall and hisses, bowing his head. He keeps his palms flat against the wall, like he was told. Like Daryl wanted. And he shivers, hard and wanting, and bares his teeth at nothing. Or everything. It's one of those moments.

He liked the feel of Daryl's hands on him, dragging down his sides, and especially on his dick. And he likes them on his hips now, the feel of his calluses catching against the scars there. ]

You better do more than look.

[ He grins, his head bowed. ]

I'm not gonna break.

[ Daryl can't help but smirk at that. ]

Yessir.

[ He knows he has the magic to blame, at least in part, for his own mouth. For the things he finds himself staying to - and commanding of - Gabe. It's giving Daryl the urge and then taking away any filter he'd usually have in place to stop it.

So he doesn't stop himself from spanking Gabe in response to his little challenge, sharp and reprimanding. He pauses to spread him open with his palms, squeezing a little too hard. ]

We'll see.

[ Daryl's tongue is more confident than the first time. He never forgets what he's learned once he's learned it and he remembers exactly what Gabe likes - intensity. Roughness.

But as promised, he starts slow. ]

Oh, fuck.

[ Yeah, he remembers this. Gabe bows his head and bites off a hiss, shivering all over as Daryl spreads him with his hands - rough, callused, fuck - and licks him. Just commits. Just goes for it.

Fuck, that's hot. That's never once failed to get him going. Gabe groans, digging his nails into the wall, and doesn't fucking move. He wants to touch himself, but he doesn't. He holds. ]

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