dadyl | 𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 ;

[ 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. ]

[ He likes making Gabe swear and shiver. He likes it even more when Gabe keeps doing as he's told and keeps his hands flat on the wall. Prone. It makes Daryl want to try and see what would break him and he redoubles his efforts, dragging his rough chin across him and finally pulling away to tease him with the tip of his thumb. ]

Tell me.

[ It's only half of a command that he growls out because he's too turned on to think the sentence through. He knows exactly what's in the nightstand of the bed he's barely slept in and he reaches without looking for the drawer and for the lube he'd found there that he'd never thought he'd have occasion to use.

Now, feverish, the thought doesn't stall him like it normally would. ]

Tell me to do it.

[ He warms up the lube in his palms before reaching around and stroking Gabe a few times with a slick fist, sliding the thumb of his other hand halfway inside him at the same time. ]

I like it when you talk.

Fuck.

[ It comes out rough. Earlier, Gabe thought a fair amount of dying. About what it might feel like to have his tech cook inside his skull. How long it would take, what the damage would wreck before it finally dropped him. A bad death, on top of all the rest. And maybe he'd deserve that for all the evil shit he's done, like karma. Survival has a cost. The captain liked to say that. She'd talk about life being an endurance sport. She was always a bit morbid like that, but she wasn't wrong.

The thoughts slip away. Gabe whines, digging his nails into the wall, and shivers all over. There's nothing but this now.

Good. ]

Fuck me.

[ He shivers again, fucking into Daryl's hand. Wanting it rough, wanting to stop thinking so goddamn hard. And it's easier now, with the physical so close at hand. The way it crashes over him, the way that Daryl commits without the slightest sense of hesitation. There's nothing but this. ]

Make me feel it.

[ Daryl surges to his feet at the command, letting Gabe work his hips on his hand but only for a few hungry seconds - only until the second command hits home. It sizzles like lightning, that familiar request, even though Daryl had never expected to hear it again. He pulls his thumb out of Gabe and immediately, with only a couple of stuttering strokes of his cock to slick himself up, replaces the lack as he pushes inside of him all at once. Measured but without quarter.

The sensation of sinking into him like that overcomes Daryl's senses and he lets out a short, hoarse gasp against the back of Gabe's neck. He rocks him forward farther instead of pulling out to thrust, forcing him closer to the wall while both of Daryl's hands find their anchor on Gabe's hips to hold him in place. He drags Gabe's body off of him as much as he pulls himself out and the tip nearly escapes him before Daryl rocks back into him with abandon, pinning Gabe fast against the wall. ]

You--

[ He grunts between words as he fucks him, hard and relentlessly deep. It's a punishing pace from the start but 'slow, slow' is still playing endlessly in Daryl's mind. He wants to do this right. ]

Uhnng-- you f-feel it? Huh?

Edited 2021-09-08 01:14 (UTC)

[ Oh, fuck. Gabe nearly yells at the shift, adrenaline surging as Daryl gets to his feet and gets to work. And for all that Daryl seems to hesitate or stumble over things when they talk about it afterward - and that's a quaint thing, talking about it afterwards - there's no hesitation now. No stumbling, no second-guessing. Gabe always liked that in a man. And he likes how Daryl pins him against the wall so there's nothing to do but take it. No space to think, to get lost. No time to get caught on the sharp edges when all he's got the breath to do is react.

Fuck, yeah.

Gabe moans, bowing his head. Loudly, shamelessly. Why the fuck not? His hands tremble but Daryl's hands feel good on his hips. Catching against scars, holding him steady for it. An anchor. He's hard enough to break rocks and there's nothing to do but ride the wave until the end. And what a fucking ride. ]

Haaa - yeah. Yeah, I - feel it.

[ Daryl chases those sounds, wants to capture that unabashed moan somehow and he finds himself sucking a mark onto Gabe's throat to make up for the impossibility. He's been given an order, been told what to do. Even without the influence of magic Daryl has never had trouble applying himself to directions. Now, it's all that matters to him in the world. For now.

His hands slide from hips to waist to chest and Daryl holds Gabe still like that, enveloping him, arching into him and sucking mean, demanding kisses from his throat to the back of his neck to his shoulders. A growl, a pleased threat, rumbles in his chest like it might in a big cat. By the time Daryl's hands drag down Gabe's arms and then brace against the wall beside Gabe's splayed hands, all the better for leverage, he doesn't even realize what he's doing.

When he first hooks his thumbs with Gabe's fingers, it's an accident. But then he laces them tighter doesn't let go. ]

[ Back when hey first met, Gabe didn't have a great sense of what Daryl looked like. None of the details, anyway. Just his general shape, the fact that his hair's longer. That he's got calluses on his hands. Nothing that would mark a man in a crowd, none of the details that Gabe used to take pride in memorizing. His whole world used to be wrapped up in his sight. What he could pull from the details, untangled from the larger picture. It felt like the world ended when he went blind.

It didn't. It just shifted. And he adapted. And he knows what Daryl looks like now. The angles of his face, the feel of his chest pressed against Gabe's back, the valleys and plains of his scars. How it feels when Daryl fucks him into the wall, his hands dragging against Gabe's arms and the lines of scar tissue and tattoo ink there. And then the angle when Daryl braces against the wall to fuck him harder, and deeper, and how it feels when Daryl laces their fingers. That little squeeze, another point of connection.

Gabe shivers, pressing his forehead against the wall. There's nothing to do but take it, ride it. Adrenaline spiking, the world narrowing to just this. Nothing but this. He moans, rocking back against Daryl as much as he can. Matching the rhythm. ]

Bite me.

[ It comes out hoarse. ]

Now.

[ As usual, particularly in a state like this, Daryl doesn't have to be told to do something twice. He lets out a pleased grunt of a laugh against Gabe's shoulder and turns to sink his teeth into the juncture at the base of the other's neck. He does it hard and holds him there, just like the first time he'd bitten him but this time he doesn't have fangs to dig into him with, he doesn't have the unhinged feral instinct, and so Daryl doesn't draw blood.

But it's close.

He feels the reaction ripple through Gabe and his jaws clench harder, his grip as punishing as his thrusts that are getting away from him by now and Daryl suddenly has to pull back. He lets go of Gabe's neck at the same time as he drops his hands and steps back to pull all the way out of him. Daryl shudders at the loss. His chest is still heaving and he swallows, concentrating hard and trying not to come for a few seconds until the danger has passed. ]

Shit. [ He swallows, determined. ] Turn around.

[ He doesn't wait for compliance. He'd almost finished too quickly and there's something else he was supposed to do. Something he'd promised. He turns Gabe around with rough hands on his arms and waist and then, without waiting or warning him, lifts him up a few feet and pins him against the wall. ]

Legs around me. Right?

[ It doesn't draw blood but the bite echoes through the whole of him like an electric shock. Gabe gasps, his nails scraping against the wall. For a moment, there are no words. There's nothing but the adrenaline, his blood kicked up and Daryl fucking him like they're the first bastards to think of it. There'll be a mark, Gabe thinks vaguely. Something he'll be able to touch, to trace with his fingers. Something to remember.

And then Daryl stops. Gabe gasps again, his chest heaving, too breathless to curse at him and demand he get back to it. Fuck.

Fucking hell.

He turns, his back pressed to the wall, and then -

Oh. Well, then. Gabe's grin goes wide. ]

You're fucking strong.

[ That's fun. That's real fun. He loops an arm around Daryl's neck and then shifts to wrap his legs around him tight. ]

Do it.

[ That grin. He isn't ready for it and it makes his stomach clench low enough that Daryl throbs. He can't help people much here. He can't protect them from what this place throws at them, from the torture they can't predict. Nobody needs Daryl like they needed him back home.

But making Gabe smile like that hits him harder than he was expecting.

Then those legs lock around him and take some of the weight from his arms and Daryl reaches down with one hand to angle himself and lower Gabe until he's sliding back inside as though he'd never left.

It's a little easier to keep control of himself like this, he has more he has to concentrate on, but none the less, Daryl knows he's on the clock. The angle is a little shallower but being face to face, feeling Gabe grinding against him as they move together, it has him on the edge. He doesn't know if he's allowed to go for a kiss so he buries his face in Gabe's collarbone instead, gasping and letting out grunts of effort as he fucks him. ]

My n-name.

[ Even with his mind a frantic, scrambling blank, the urge to find a command to give comes back to him. ]

Say it. Wh-when you come.

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