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Survival Isn't An Option	By : Pilgrim Category: S through Z > The Walking Dead Views: 6774 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or any of the characters from the series. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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          Lungs burning, eyes stinging and her ankle growing more painful with every second the walker tightened its grip on it, Isabelle kicked out. Skin sloughed off the walker’s arm where her foot contacted but its grip didn’t loosen. She was going to black out, with all the writhing and the underwater scream her air was completely out. A prickle stung at her skin as the walker tried to dig water loosened nails in for a better grasp. The tension released suddenly and Isabelle didn’t wait any longer to kick for the surface, grateful that the river was actually quite shallow, any deeper and she knew she wouldn’t have made it. Spluttering through the surface she coughed up the water that had squeezed into her lungs in the last seconds of frantic swimming. A hand clamped onto her arm and dragged her closer to the shore.
          Clambering up she lay sprawled in the morning sun, dirt and sand pressed against her face as she gasped and coughed life back into herself. Next to her Daryl sheathed his dagger and moved to smack her on the back. After a few moments she flailed at him to leave her before she coughed her very lungs up. Rolling onto her back and pressing her hands to her eyes as she coughed again, the last of the water leaving her. Slowly she remembered she was completely naked and moved her hands lower instead in an attempt at modesty before laughing at the irony of it. One glance at Daryl’s face and she lost it completely, breaking into hysterical laughter and pressing her hands to her eyes as the tears began to fall.
“What the hell’s so funny? You nearly got drowned or eaten, or both,” Daryl snapped gesturing towards the water, far beyond amused. He pulled his dagger free and began to clean it, keeping his eyes on the blade.
          Isabelle glanced at him again and struggled to control the laughter but it was no good. He looked like a pissed off drowned rat, clothes hanging from him and streams of water pouring down his face from his hair. For nearly five minutes she laughed, trying to keep it quiet, trying to stop and at the same time enjoying the simple thing that a laugh was. Finally, she choked into more controlled laughter and partially sat up, resting on her elbows as she flicked her feet in the water. “I go for a wash and I get dragged underwater and almost eaten. Alex was determined to drown me in that smaller river just last year. Seriously, rivers clearly aren’t good for my health. Then I’m led here, dressed in nothing more than my birthday suit and all you can do is clean your knife,” She sighed as the last giggle left and splashed water onto her face, cleaning the compressed dirt and sand from her.
“What you want me to jump you after you’ve almost drowned?” Daryl snapped, still focusing on the blade.
“No,” Isabelle fought down another laugh, limiting it to a snort. “The irony, you didn’t even look.”
“I’ve got some respect for women. You’re not just a physical object, you know,” Daryl grumbled, sheathing the dagger and looking straight ahead huffily. “I’m not a pervert.”
“Daryl, no,” Isabelle softened her giggle and smiled softly. “It’s nice, just unexpected. Never had a guy actually have some respect in situations such as this. Just shock from almost dying I guess,” She stumbled to her feet and headed for her clothes, Daryl still staring out over the river as she pulled her underwear on.
“You’ve been dragged naked from a river before?” Daryl muttered, sounding slightly less annoyed.
“Well, no. I’ve been in enough dancing situations where we’ve shared a dressing room with other dancers of both genders before,” Isabelle glanced back at him, he was still staring over the river pointedly. “Most guys don’t care if they’re caught staring or not. They seem to almost take pride in it.”
“I’m not like most guys,” The voice grumbled on.
“No, you’re not,” She turned to face him as she buckled the jeans and threaded the belt through. “Daryl, I’m not mad you didn’t look if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Did it hurt your ankle?” Daryl interrupted promptly, turning to look at her before snapping his head back straight when he realised she was only in a bra and jeans.
“Daryl, it’s only like a bikini top, it’s fine,” Isabelle muttered, pulling her jean leg up to inspect the ankle. Bruising and some broken skin but so minor it was barely noticeable. Hands joined hers as Daryl inspected it as well, apparently not trusting her analysis. She sank back to lean on the boulder behind her and let him look to his heart’s content. He lifted and twisted it, checking for any sprains or strains. “Some broken skin but no blood, I’m not infected, just a little sore.”
          He rolled the leg of the jeans back down slowly and looked up at her from his knees. There was something in his eyes and Isabelle smirked as she realised what it was. He had looked, he was just mortified that he had, and liked it presumably from his embarrassment. Slowly he stood up until his face was level with hers, his body close enough she could feel the heat from him. He looked as if he was going to do something and her heart skipped a beat until he turned away as if to walk off. Instinctively she grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. His loss of balance at the sharp action working in her favour as he landed on top of her, pressing her against the boulder. She kissed him instantly, afraid he’d run, and wrapped an arm about his shoulders. Her other steading both of their unbalanced weights against the incline of the boulder, if he moved away she’d slip straight off the boulder. His hands rested on her waist, lighter over the stitches, she could feel the insecurity about where to touch but at the same time she could feel he wasn’t willing to move away.
          She guided his right hand by the stitches lower, to her hip and curled his fingers about the curve. Heat flooded from his touch and she pressed herself against him with a moan of approval. It didn’t matter if he was unsure, as long as he was willing. His left arm curled about her waist, holding her closer. The kiss getting more urgent and her hands started working on his shirt, flicking the buttons free with disturbing proficiency as she pushed it down his shoulders. Instead of skin her fingers met the t-shirt he’d donned at some point. She leaned back and plucked at it, “Seriously?”
          He stepped back for a second, pulling it clean over his head in one move before stepping back up. His bare torso against hers, the heat of skin on skin eliciting a moan as his lips captured hers again. Fingers pressed against her jaw, tilting her head sideways as he kissed down her throat. Pausing at her pulse to nip before kissing back up. Her heart was beating almost out of her chest; she was sure he must be able to feel it against his own. She wrapped her fingers into his hair, gently pulling him closer. Hands trailed down her sides, and his hips moved away just long enough for him to tackle the buckle on her jeans. Fingers easing them down until they were low enough for her to kick away to land near his own discarded clothing. Nails raked up her outer thighs lightly, making her shiver and moan. She was losing control of herself, lost in the sensation and the lust, coursing through her veins stronger than it ever had before.
          Fire was heating her core, streaking through her body and driving her onwards with barely any conscious thought behind her actions. Raking nails down his chest she moved to tackle his belt, making equally short work of it and snapping it away. They both stared down at his boots and the bindings on his ankles preventing any quick removal of the trousers. Isabelle grinned wickedly and wrapped her hand about his erection, stroking and teasing until his eyes rolled and his legs started to buckle. Before he could steady himself against her she pushed gently on his shoulders and he tumbled onto his back. For a moment she thought he might shout at her but she didn’t give him enough time as she dropped to sit on his hips. Bending forwards she kissed him in apology and then more firmly as she twisted one of his nipples gently. He bucked underneath her half in surprise and half at the rush of pleasure she knew it would have initiated.
          Kissing down his cheek, his throat, biting at his collar bones as she swatted his hands away from her. This was her time, this was one of her greatest skills, the tease was her forte. She wasn’t going to let anything distract her from driving him mad. She could feel his frustration at her control but it would be worth it and he didn’t seem that bothered to let her have her way. If anything he seemed more irate at the fact that he was not being allowed to touch her in return. They were both well aware he could easily take control if he wanted to.
Her teeth bit in a chastising manner at the other nipple as his hands fumbled at her bra before she could stop him. He sucked a breath in and removed his hands instantly. Leaning back, she tutted and snapped it free, allowing him that one desire. She tossed it aside before resuming her tease, still keeping his hands away. Kissing down his chest, trailing over his stomach, paying attention to the curve of the muscles that rested over his entire torso as they strained against the desire to move. He’d finally acknowledged his hands were not going to touch her no matter what he did and they flexed instinctively against the grass.
          Isabelle sank lower, sliding her body sensually down his as she kissed a path down not a millimetre missing out on the attention. Stroking and raking gently with nails and teeth, igniting little areas he hadn’t discovered yet, each one inciting more of a reaction than the last as the desire built. She moved to kiss his hip and begin working her way inwards only to feel fingers tangle gently in her hair and tug softly but firmly. At first she ignored it only for the insistence to remain, apparently he’d had enough of the introduction. He was struggling to control himself and his breath was making his chest rise and fall as quickly as if he had run a marathon. Letting him guide her back up she laid her body over his, kissing him tenderly as his arms wrapped about her. His fingers stroking small circles into her lower back were making her tingle. She rolled her hips over his in appreciation, sliding her legs to either side of his as she broke free of the hug and sat over his hips, her weight raised just enough to stop from crushing him.
          With a small grin she rolled her hips over him, his eyes rolled backwards for a moment before he glared at her as she stopped. Swiftly she stood, tossing her panties aside before kneeling over him once more. Her hand played over his head, teasing the sensitive flesh with the slightest of touches as he struggled to control his hips. “Belle,” He whispered, eyes pleading with her to give in and cease the pleasurable torment.
          Without a second’s hesitation she slid him carefully in, easing down in a sweet agonising slowness as he gasped and fought to stop his hips from surging upwards. She met his eyes and held them, daring him to move, daring him to challenge her knowledge at pleasure. He groaned and let his head fall back, letting her finish the painfully slow decent until there was nothing left for her to take, his chest heaving with the restraint and fingers digging into the ground. Isabelle bent at the waist, letting her hips roll forwards more slowly, savouring the sensation of finally owning him, of having control over the body and the man she’d desired for so long. She pressed a kiss to his lips softly, trailing her fingers down his arms, gripping his wrists and guiding his hands to her thighs. His grip tightened with something tangible to focus on. She kissed him once more before sitting back upright, arching her back slightly as she moved her hips slowly over his.
          Slow and steady was the plan, keep him on the brink until he couldn’t take it anymore. Circles, figures of eight, every rotation, every rise and fall making him gasp, moan, and groan. His hips shifting under her in barely contained excitement. Fingers digging into her skin and releasing as he regained control of himself every other second. Sweat was beading over both of them as she started to alter the pace, changing from slow to quick and back again. Isabelle felt herself beginning to struggle to contain herself. It had been so long and this was exquisite, every motion was driving her closer to the fall. Her breath hitched as he sat up, changing the angle without warning and sending stars exploding in her mind’s eye. Arms about her waist, holding her against him. Kisses pressed to her shoulders, her collarbone, he bit softly at her throat drawing a moan from her. Changing her pace to shallower but deeper she rocked against him, letting her breasts rub over his chest as she shuddered, arms about his shoulders for something to stabilise herself with. So close, the tingle starting in her toes already and she tensed against it, not wanting it to hit yet.
          Trying to slow it further as he sought her lips, dragging her back down to lay over him. His hips pushing up into her more quickly, more demanding. Her breath hitched several times as she kissed him urgently, every thrust sending her body in a spasm of pleasure as she struggled harder to contain it. Heat was flooding through her and her breath was barely more than a gasp in time with every movement, she was losing herself rapidly to the sensation. Like a tidal wave her orgasm hit and she pressed her face into Daryl’s neck to hold back the cry of release as her body convulsed around him. Delirious with the pleasure she was barely aware of his own final thrusts, his arms holding her completely captive against him. His own breath out of rhythm as the world slowly returned around them in a haze. For an age they lay, drenched in sweat, one on top of the other both too relaxed to move.
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Survival Isn't An Option