3 Works by Winterum
Listing Works
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Summary
This is the part that Daryl savors, chews into with his canines. The watching, the waiting, seeing Rick thaw from the cold one layer at a time. It’s the heavy belt sitting on Rick’s hips that draws Daryl’s gaze, the way it leaves a faint imprint against the V of his pelvis. Every hard earned grunt and shiver from each other feels like a small victory and vengeance, because in the end, neither of them give in easily, even if it’s to each other.
But there are also nights when they hardly talk, and don’t touch at all. Seated opposite one another, or lying on something thrown on the floor to tamper the hardness. Just the rhythmic slick sound of stroking, and the quiet breathes that fill out the empty cell. Rick lost in his thoughts, and Daryl almost dozing, lulled by the odd pocket of peace, and the coiling wet smell of pre-ejaculate.
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It’s difficult. Rick doesn’t know why, but Daryl and he fall into brotherhood so easily, yet when it comes to this, every turn threatens to throw one or both of them around the bend and off the road. He doesn’t recall falling in love with Lori being this intense and testy, with barbed words and too much desire. It was easy before. They’d molded into one another, into wife and husband, into a comfortable Georgia house, into parenthood.
Until they didn’t.
“I'm not fighting you”, Rick confesses into the hot open air between them.
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Summary
Daryl is a vision on all fours, Rick thinks. Upright and filthy, with a crooked sneer, he’s dangerous. Untouchable. Opinionated with just a thin narrowing of the eyes.
But here, lying prostrate, back muscles long and streamlined like a prowling jungle cat, Rick finds his bones aching from desire. There's no fear. No hesitation. None of the usual priority of matters that holds him back from this.