Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3889135.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      The_Walking_Dead_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Daryl_Dixon/Beth_Greene
  Character:
      Maggie_Greene, Hershel_Greene, Annette_Greene, Shawn_Greene, Merle_Dixon,
      Glenn_Rhee
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Alternate_Universe_-_No_Zombies, Past_Child_Abuse, Explicit
      Sexual_Content
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-05-06 Updated: 2015-08-07 Chapters: 2/? Words: 2139
****** Like Lolita ******
by deanxi
Summary
     In which Beth Greene decides to seduce dirty redneck, Daryl Dixon.
***** ONE *****
[ photo 1_zpscxveiyiq.jpg]
Beth stirred in bed. The heat of a steamy, Georgia morning lay thick in her
room, hanging sodden and heavy about her. She had kicked off her white
bedspread and sheets hours earlier, her nightdress now bunched up around her
waist. No breeze was blowing through her open window. The moon hung low and its
milky light lay supine on her floor, a dim, inadequate lantern. She awoke,
vaguely aware of movement downstairs and stretched, wincing at the twinge of
pain between her legs. She reached down and brushed her fingers over her white
panties, squeezing her eyes shut and letting out a slow, quiet breath—her mind
wandering back to the night before.
Like every girl, Beth had dreamt about making-love. She had always been a
hopeless romantic and from the small sneaks she'd gotten from her mother's
novels, she had gotten a dramatized look at what sex was like. She would blush
at the thought of her lover seeing her in nothing but her skin, would daydream
about how electrifying his touch would be and how his kisses would cause her to
tremble. About that moment she would fall apart in his strong arms with her
head thrown back and her spine arching in soul-aching pleasure—
But now, she realized that it was all just fantasy.
Because Beth Greene had lost her virginity, and all she'd gotten in return was
awkward fumbling, sloppy kisses and uncomfortable pain in her nether-regions.
At first, she had just copped it down to being the first time. Jimmy, like her,
had no idea what he was doing and she knew he was trying his best, taking his
time to kiss and touch her. They had done it in the hayloft of her barn, just
like she had envisioned, on a soft blanket made of cotton—but when it was all
over and done, Beth was left feeling put-off and a little awkward. She didn't
feel like she had undergone some great transformation from girl-to-woman, like
Maggie said she would.
Even now, after doing it a total of six times, it still hurt and it was still
uncomfortable and she still didn't enjoy any of it. Where were the sparks?
Where was the passion? Where was the climax?
Would it always be like that?
Beth shuddered at the thought.
Letting out another sigh, she pushed out of bed. The house was eerily silent
then, and Beth tried to ignore the way the hairs on her arms stood on end as
she shed her clothes in the bathroom and turned on the shower. As she waited
for it to warm, she stared at her body in the mirror, scrutinizing herself and
wondering what was wrong with her. Jimmy was a complete gentleman, always
polite and charming with his laid-back, calm, and genuinely kind demeanor. In
the sixteen-years that they'd known each other, Beth could honestly say that he
was truly the most loving and caring boy she'd ever met. He was the type of
person who rarely lost his cool and almost never showed animosity towards
anyone. He wasn't perfect by any means, and the two of them had their fights
and disagreements with one another, yet he was always be the first to
apologize, even if it wasn't his fault.
Beth stepped into the shower and as the water from the showerhead rained over
her skin, she hugged herself. She loved Jimmy, she really did, but she wasn't
in love with him. He wasn't someone who gave her butterflies or caused her to
feel giddy inside at the very thought of him, he wasn't someone she dreamed
about or made her to blush. He couldn't even get her wet for God's sake. All
she could do was lay there awkwardly while he pumped away inside of her,
wincing and praying for it to be over soon.
Beth turned off the shower and retrieved a towel from the hall-closet. She
wrapped it around herself and wandered back into her bedroom, sitting on the
edge of the bed as she combed her fingers through her hair.
With a sigh, she glanced at the clock and realized that Jimmy had invited her
to have breakfast at Mickey's Diner in forty-minutes.
Silently, she prayed she'd be able to make it through without breaking down.
***** TWO *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 [ photo 1_zpscxveiyiq.jpg]
"Now that's a nice fuckin' pair of melons right there with an apple-bottomed
ass to match," Merle whistled under his breath, tipping back his drink and
swishing it in his mouth.
Daryl's gaze slipped out to the female tittering away with her girlfriends at
the bar. Propped up on six-inch spikes that jacked her ass up obscenely under a
mini-dress that barely covered it, her legs went on forever. Daryl had always
been a legs man.
"You gonna hit that, brother, or am I?" Merle hissed, leering at him out of the
corner of his eye.
Grunting, Daryl tipped back the rest of the beer in his hand, gasping as he set
the thick jug down without comment. The woman wasn't bad looking—she was
wearing too much make-up and her hair had been bleached yellow—but she was
better then the usual girls Merle pointed out to him.
"C'mon, Darylina," Merle taunted with pursed lips, shifting his lounge against
the wall. "Don't be shy, y'little pussy."
Daryl cut his eyes over at his brother with a deep frown. He wasn't shy, he was
patient—there was a difference. He'd spent his entire life living off scraps
that fell from the table so he had to be. He'd never been good enough to get a
seat.
The girl turned over her shoulder with a coy tuck of her chin and looked
straight at him.
"There it is, man," Merle egged him on in a hiss.
Daryl simply grunted again and picked up his empty jug of beer. He could feel a
slight buzz tingling at the back of his skull and felt his hands trembling for
another drink as his mind began to wander—as it always did when he wasn't drunk
enough. The longer he stayed sober, the more distinct the voices in his head
became. His mind was a chaotic jumble of pictures and sounds—memories he didn't
want and literally had to fight to push away—and the only thing that could push
them away was getting as smashed as possible.
His hand flexed against his empty jug, "Imma' get another beer," he grumbled as
he shoved off the wall, only to have his brother grab his arm, tight.
"You lil' Nancy," Merle hissed. His narrowed eyes flickered back-and-forth
between his own, voice low. "Sometimes I wonder 'bout you, boy."
Merle always did.
When Daryl was younger and less haggard-looking, he had gotten a lot of
attention from the opposite sex. But after a few cold looks and cutting words,
he was quickly recognized as a man that was not to be approached. After a time,
Merle and his buddies had begun to get suspicious and rather than fielding
obnoxious questions about his sexuality, he had indulged in some periodic,
uninspiring one night stands. Always at their home, never at his trailer, and
he never stayed the night or phoned them.
Still, Merle often looked at him like he was now—like he was a disappointment.
Like he was a pussy.
Daryl felt his anger spike. "Fuck you, Merle," he spat, face quickly growing
red and fists clenching. "I just ain't in the mood."
Before Merle could answer back with a snarky reply, Daryl yanked his arm away
and stalked toward the bar.
While the bartender refiled his jug, he pulled out a pack of smokes from his
pocket, quickly lighting it and sucking down the addictive nicotine. He let a
string of smoke descend from between his lips after a moment and rolled his
cigarette between calloused fingers.
It wasn't that Daryl ignored women or didn't like being around them, he simply
didn't bother himself with them. He didn't really bother himself much with
anybody, to be fair. He had always been quiet and reserved for as long as he
could remember, not saying much at all while his thoughts ran rampant and
scattered through his unbridled mind. Pursuing women bored him and he just
didn't enjoy it—he wasn't a girl-chaser, and he never had been one to begin
with.
He wasn't awkward around women, by any means, it just seemed that he always had
trouble trying to strike up a conversation with them, mostly because he was
never truly interested. After a while, he would get frustrated and his temper
would make an appearance—and then they'd leave in a huff, and he would stand
there wondering why he didn't feel more bothered.
When his jug was filled to the brim, Daryl quickly threw it back and swallowed
it down until it was half-way gone.
This was his life these days. When he wasn't following Merle around, he was in
the forest hunting or drinking himself into oblivion. It was easier that way.
After drinking through five jugs of beer and inhaling a half-carton of smokes,
Daryl pushed off the bar stool. He lit yet another cigarette, his footing a
little unsteady as he stumbled toward the door and shoved it open. He was
quickly hit with the cool night air. The sky above was the color of mud,
cloaking the parking lot in a strange, chocolate-colored pall. Behind him,
broken streams of moonlight were filtering in between the swirling wreaths of
fog and dust that hung suspended in the air. His gaze crossed over to the trees
surrounding the seedy, backwoods bar.
He was just about to take a walk over to take a piss when Merle called him.
Daryl glanced across the parking lot and found his brother already waiting,
leaning back against his truck and lazily buttoning his jeans while watching a
girl sashay tipsily back to the bar. Daryl's eyes lowered when she passed by.
"See y'around, Merle," she called out shrilly, hurting Daryl's ears. Grimacing,
he tossed his smoke onto the ground next to a pile of cigarette buds. Unlike
Merle, who had several go-to girls back at the trailer park, Daryl didn't have
the heart to hit them up more than once. He could always see the yearning for
more in their eyes and it made it harder and harder to turn away.
Continuing his unhurried amble across the lot, he met Merle's smirk with a
sneer. "That was fast."
"She's done me before," Merle chuckled, "Short n' sweet . . . and cheap."
"Hooker?"
"Fifty-bucks 'n a drink," His shoulder hopped and he grinned. "'Didn't feel
like spendin' time on the bullshit wind-up. And I got forty-minutes of head,"
Merle sniffed a laugh as he turned and opened the driver's side door.
Daryl grunted irritably at the fogged up windows.
Like all men, sex smelled good to him, but he wasn't really in the mood to
steep in his brother's purchase-high for the long ride home, so being the
considerate asshole he was, Merle rolled down the windows for the drive back to
their trailer in the woods. Daryl watched the miles go by while he silently
listened to hardcore porn and posturing from the driver's seat until his ears
bled.
Daryl sniffed. He wished he could bleach some of those images from his memory.
Merle had lost his virginity at age twelve and had been heartily fucking out
his rage with increasing kink ever since. Daryl, on the other hand, had popped
his cherry the day before his twentieth birthday. Finally, simply unwilling to
watch any longer, Merle had taken him up to a strip club and paid a girl to
show him how it was done.
And the rest was sorry, sordid history.
As they turned onto familiar dirt roads, Merle cocked his head, rearranging
himself in his seat, "I'm headin' up to Little Rock tomorrow. 'Gonna get me
some quality drugs 'stead of the shit I'm been sniffin' lately. Probably gonna
be gone a few weeks."
Daryl silently nodded and turned to the window beside him, rubbing a hand over
his glazed eyes. As sick as it was, Merle was the only one who really
understood. Talks like this in the car were the closest he ever got to a heart-
to-heart.
"'Think you can hold up the fort without me?"
"'Course, learned everthin' from you, didn't I?" Daryl muttered.
"That's right, boy and you best always remember it! All them years I spent
tryin' to make a man outta you," Merle chuckled to himself and pulled out a
cigarette, lighting it with one hand before he propped an arm out the open
window, "Ain't nobody gonna care about you like I do, little brother. Ain't
nobody ever will."
Daryl slumped against his seat and closed his eyes.
"I know."
Chapter End Notes
     I'm going to be ultra-cautious here, because I want to make sure that
     no one is surprised by this story's content. This is a story about
     the development of a teenage girl's sexuality with an older man in
     his mid-thirties—so it might offend some people who, for one reason
     or another, don't like to see such things openly discussed.
      
     So basically, if you are not into the whole Lolita/nympet thing, I
     suggest turning back now.
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