Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2580848.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Walking_Dead_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Carl_Grimes/Rick_Grimes
  Character:
      Carl_Grimes, Rick_Grimes, Beth_Greene, Judith_Grimes, Hershel_Greene
  Additional Tags:
      Anal_Sex, kinda_sorta_a_little_bit_of_fluff_if_you_squint_really_hard,
      mostly_just_smut_though, Anal_Fingering, Father/Son_Incest, Emotional
      Hurt/Comfort
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-11-07 Words: 2130
****** Unspoken ******
by MCRmyGeneral
Summary
     "I was thinking of a story set very soon after Lori's death. Rick and
     Carl are both distraught. Rick is on the outskirts of the prison,
     outside the fence and Carl goes to get him to stop the madness
     because he's worried about his dad. Rick breaks down and is like "I
     have nothing left." Carl's like "You have me." Then Carl proves his
     love with sex."
Notes
     This was super fun to write! Thanks for the suggestion, cuz this is
     probably one of my favorite fanfics I've ever written!
     Sorry it took so long! I hope you love it!
      
     *Send me a prompt or request at ieroween1031.tumblr.com
Carl watched Maggie's hair blow around her face as she and Daryl sped out
through the prison gates. He knew he should feel some kind of anger or ill will
toward her. After all, she technically killed his mother. But all he found was
gratitude, deep beneath the anguish and the tears. If she hadn’t stepped up and
did what she did, he might not have a baby sister right now.
Carl panicked for a moment when he couldn’t see the infant, until he saw the
bundle of plaid in Beth’s arms. Once again, he tried to be angry. That child
was the reason Lori needed to be cut open, anyway. But once again, looking at
the baby brought no hostility. Just protectiveness, a territorial feeling. She
was his. His baby sister, his responsibility. He swore to himself and to the
child that he would always protect her. He’d do anything and everything in his
power to make sure she lived as happily and normally as possible. She was a
Grimes, and even if they didn’t have much, they'd always have each other.
He turned toward his father, only to find him gone. He rushed over to where
Hershel and Beth were seated on the metal bleachers.
“My dad?” he asked, his voice soft.
Beth shook her head apologetically, but Hershel nodded toward the yard.
Following his gaze, Carl saw that the wire that they'd used to patch the hole
in the fence was tangled on the ground.
Before he went after his father, Carl leaned down, kissing his sister’s
forehead. Then he turned and ran.
####
How had he gotten all the way out here? Rick wasn't sure. The numbness was
spreading through his body. But at least he wasn't crying anymore. He hated
crying. Especially in front of Carl.
He didn’t know where he was going; he was just walking. When he finally found a
secluded spot, one where he could barely see the prison through the trees, he
fell to his knees.
“Oh, God,” He sobbed quietly. So much for not crying anymore.
As he cried, it struck him that he wasn’t crying for Lori. As evil as it
sounded, it was true. Of course, he was upset to learn of her death. But while
the first ten years of their marriage brought them close, the last four or five
saw them gradually drifting apart. And while he was upset, he wasn’t as
distraught as he’d be if he’d still loved her. His and Lori’s marriage had been
crumbling for years, and while they tried their hardest to keep it together, to
give Carl a stable home and family, eventually the pieces turned to dust. Rick
had long ago acknowledged that it had happened before the dead had started to
walk, though neither he nor Lori were eager to admit it, even to themselves.
He’d spilled his tears for his once-wife. Those dried even before Maggie and
Daryl had left. No, the tears now were for Carl. His only son, his closest
friend. No child (and Carl still was a child, no matter how hard he tried to
prove it to Rick or even himself) should have to see their mother sliced open
and bled out. And what Carl had to do… One look at his son’s tear-streaked
face, and Rick knew. He knew that somewhere in the catacombs of the prison was
his wife’s body, with a bullet from his son’s gun in her skull.
“It’s all gone,” He whispered to himself, his head in his hands. “Your best
friend, your wife. Shane’s gone, Lori’s gone. The world is ending. There’s
nothing left. You have nothing. I have nothing,” He whispered to himself.
“Fuck you,” Came a stern voice from behind him.
Rick looked over his shoulder to see Carl standing a few feet away, having
followed Rick to ensure he was still sane. Or well, as sane as he was before.
“Carl, I-“
“Nothing? You have nothing, Dad?” Carl yelled, and a flock of birds scattered
at the sound. “You have four walls and a roof protecting you from the undead.
Do you think the same can be said for all the other survivors? You're
surrounded by people that love you, people that would kill for you. You have a
beautiful baby girl. That child is a miracle. You have a son. A son that loves
you more than anyone else in this world, in ways you can’t even begin to
understand. You have a family. It’s broken and mismatched, but it’s a family
nonetheless. And that family depends on you, they need you. You lost your wife,
and I'm sorry. But don’t you dare say that you have nothing. What am I, Dad? Am
I just nothing to you?”
Rick shook his head as Carl's harsh words sank in. The kid was right.
Regardless of recent events, he was one of the luckiest people in the world.
How could he have been so blind?
“No,” He whispered, holding his hand out to Carl, who took it willingly,
hugging his father securely. “You’re everything Carl. Your sister, too. You’re
my everything. You always have been. You're what’s kept me strong this long. It
was never your mother; it was always you,” Rick whispered fiercely.
Carl sniffled, the last of his tears drying. “I love you, Dad.”
Before Rick could answer, Carl had leaned in, kissing his father softly.
Rick's first reaction should've been to pull away. Maybe slap the boy, and tell
him that this was wrong. But he couldn't bring himself to do that. Not when he
was finally realizing how much he wanted this, his son. Not when they'd both
lost so much. They couldn't lose each other.
Rick softly pulled the sheriff's hat from his son's head, tossing it to the
ground and then tangling his hand in Carl's dirty, stringy hair, softly licking
his way into the boy's mouth.
Carl pulled away from his father's lips, but only to take a breath before he
was back at it, kissing him with an intensity that Rick had never seen from the
boy before. But he liked it. The slow tenderness they'd started with was
burning off quickly, like alcohol reducing on a flame as both men came to terms
with their hidden desires, leaving them both gasping for air and clawing at
each other's clothing.
Rick grabbed Carl by the shirt and pulled him to the ground with him, flipping
him over onto his stomach almost effortlessly.
Carl smiled as he let himself be thrown around like a rag doll, drunk on the
fact that finally, finally, after months of lust and confusion, his father was
touching him.
Rick was nearly growling as he yanked at Carl's jeans, pulling them down and
then off in mere seconds, the animal in him surfacing. For two years now, he'd
watched his boy grow into a man, and now, on top of him with one hand wrapped
in his hair and the other in his mouth, Rick was able to recognize what he'd
been feeling for so long. As he fell out of love with Lori, his feelings for
his only son grew stronger. Remembering Carl as his son, and very underage left
a guilty taste in Rick's mouth (deep down, he was still a man of the law, with
those same morals buried somewhere within him), but it was quickly forgotten as
he lost himself in the way Carl was tracing his fingers with his tongue, making
sure they were good and slick to make the prep less painful.
Deciding to later focus on how Carl knew what he was doing, Rick instead
centered his entire attention span on the image of his fingers lost inside his
son's reddened, stretched hole.
"Dad," Carl groaned below him, and Rick froze.
"Carl?" He asked warily, hoping he hadn't been too eager and hurt the boy. Or
that Carl wasn't about to ask him to stop. He honestly wasn't sure that he
could now, with the boy opened and ready, tight and wet around his fingers. He
was almost salivating for the boy, and if he was stopped now-
"More," Carl moaned, wanton and needy and Rick had never heard anything as
arousing as his son's sex voice. He hoped this wouldn't be the only time he'd
get to hear it. "Fuck, more, please, D-" He cut himself off with a gasp when
Rick curled his fingers. Carl dug his own fingers into the dirt, arching his
back when Rick brushed that spot again. He didn't know what it was, but it
punched him in the gut with arousal and blurred his vision.
"Like that?" Rick asked, cocking his fingers again, and Carl's entire body
trembled as he whimpered. Rick was desperate to get inside the boy and fuck him
into the ground, but he was afraid of going too far or too fast. That worry
quickly evaporated however, when Carl grunted out a "Please, more. Your cock,
just fuck me already, please."
His son's filthy mouth was a turn-on straight outta left field, but Rick went
with it, giving in by withdrawing his fingers and pushing into his boy.
Carl moaned the entire time Rick was inching his way into him, a low purr from
his chest.
Rick surprised himself when he didn't lose his orgasm as soon as he was inside
the boy. Lori had always been adamant about not allowing anal sex, which meant
that this tightness was something completely new to Rick, almost overwhelming.
As he settled against Carl's ass, Rick thought proudly that he had just claimed
his son's virginity. At least, he better have. Something else to ask Carl about
at a later time.
"Harder," Carl gasped. Rick wasn't aware that he'd begun moving at all yet, but
he obeyed, picking up his pace and thrusting into the boy quicker and harder.
Carl shuddered with arousal as his wish was granted.
"Jesus Christ, Carl," Rick groaned, already on the verge of orgasm.
Carl smirked, like he knew exactly how great a fuck he was. It was a teasing,
cocky smirk that made Rick kinda want to smack him, but mostly it just made him
really fucking horny.
Rick tightened his grip on Carl's too-long hair and thrust a little harder
still, knowing that in addition to a sore ass and scalp, Carl would be sporting
some beautiful, hidden bruises for the next few days.
"Dad, Dad, Dad," Carl gasped with every thrust in. Rick felt a little guilty
that he wasn't helping Carl get off, but he was pressed completely into the
ground; there was no room for him to snake his hand beneath his son and help
him off. Not without changing his pace, and that was not happening.
It didn't matter, though, because seconds later, Carl was shooting into the
leaves beneath him, a moan of "Fuck, Dad!" spilling from his swollen, bitten
lips.
Carl's orgasm had him tightening and clenching around Rick, and that sensation
had Rick barreling toward his own release, emptying himself into his son, fully
claiming him.
As an afterthought, Rick leaned down, biting and sucking none-too-gently on
Carl's neck, where the bruise would be barely hidden beneath the boy's shirt
collar.
Carl smiled and gasped, enjoying the sensation. He'd never gotten a hickey
before. Good. That meant the boy was Rick's and only Rick's.
With one final sharp bite and a lapping of the blood he'd managed to pull from
Carl's skin, Rick pulled out of his son, who mewled in disappointment.
Rick collapsed beside Carl into the leaves, both men's chests heaving with
pants.
Carl looked like he'd been fucked well; his hair was mussed, his lips were
swollen, his face was red. And he was breathing like an 80 year old man with
asthma.
When Carl met Rick's eyes, he froze.
"Dad," he panted, "Did we just make a mistake?" His voice sounded small, like
he was scared. Nervous about his father's answer. Nervous about being pushed
away, or called sick.
The vulnerability in Carl's eyes, and even moreso in his voice were almost too
much. Rick couldn't believe that this perfect, brave, strong, beautiful boy was
his, in every sense of the word.
Rick didn't answer him. Instead, he reached over, grabbing him by the elbow and
pulling him closer until Carl's head was resting on his chest. Still Rick said
nothing, hoping that Carl would grasp that Rick was on Cloud Nine right now,
and he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. He ran his fingers through
Carl's hair, picking out the leaves and twigs. He leaned down and kissed the
top of his head.
Carl sighed. "Yeah," he whispered, listening to his father's heartbeat, "I love
you, too."
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