Work Text:
x
The thing about prisons is that you can’t block out the noises that carry through the cell blocks. Oh sure, you can try, no harm in trying, right? But Merle, Merle knows that no matter what you do, there’s some noises that you can’t ignore, some noises that can really grate on a man’s nerves.
Noises like the sound of his baby brother bein’ bent over and fucked three ways from Sunday not more than twenty feet away, noises like them.
Oh, but he wants to scream. He can hear them, can hear the slick sounds of skin on skin, the choked gasps that his brother’s makin’, the grunts that pass the lips of the man who handcuffed him back in Atlanta and no matter how hard he tries, he’s picturing it now, he can see how Daryl would look, face flushed with arousal, pupils blown wide as he’s taken…
There’s fury curling and flickering in his belly and he can feel his teeth grinding harder in his jaw as Daryl’s little noises get louder, desperate, breathy gasps that are verging into moans. His dick is twitching merrily away in his pants despite his rage, blood pooling low and he can only rest his head to the bars of his cell and listen, listen to the way Daryl’s trying to hold it in, tryin’ to be quiet, like he knows that Merle’s not that far away and there’s so much anger snaking up his spine at the thought.
He knows what this is. This is that fucking cop’s way of staking a claim. This is him showin’ Merle just what he’s done, showing him that he’s turned his little brother from Merle, taken his loyalty and oh, Lord, if he can just get five minutes alone with Rick…
He licks his lips and thinks of how he could kill the cop, different ways, different scenarios that all end with the man’s blood smeared on Merle’s hand and how the blood would look grimed into his fingers as he holds Daryl in place, forcing him to see what was left of his fuckin’ fearless leader then.
A throaty moan interrupts his musings and he can feel sweat trickling down his forehead, streaking over his skin and he thinks of the way Daryl used to look at him, the way he used to listen to his commands, the way he fucking obeyed him, no matter what and he wonders idly when that all changed, if it was when they first came upon that sorry group of survivors at the quarry.
Daryl, his brother, his, goddamnit! Merle grips one of the metal bars before him, his chest tight. His long before they ever left their shitty home, long before they’d ever met these people and the idea that Daryl’s bent over for that cop, taking his cock, panting and all but gagging for it like some cheap twink in a porno is driving him insane.
The noises are louder and the sound of Daryl moaning is carrying to Merle’s ears, far above all other sounds. He can see it, see the way Daryl’s eyes would be scrunched shut, his lips parted as he pants for air, the way his neck would be canted to the side. There’s a shudder working its way through Merle and he feels dull pangs of anger when he thinks of Daryl writhing on the cop’s dick and just how many times has Rick slid into his baby brother, huh?
How many times has that cop pinned him to a wall, how many times has he held Daryl open, thrustin’ into him again and again, how many times did Daryl bend for him, and did he do it willingly? Did he hold his mouth open, swallow Rick down? He’s panting now himself, dick rock hard and rubbin’ all the right ways against his shorts and he hears Rick muttering to Daryl, words that aren’t quite filthy, words that make Daryl’s moans stutter sharply nonetheless.
He’s listening, still listening helplessly, as Daryl comes, his strangled sobs slamming into Merle’s cell, teasing and tormenting him, sending a sick thrill to his cock and he can hear the growl that follows as another sweat droplet falls into his eyes, burning, stinging when he hears Daryl whisper the cop’s name.
His jaw aches as he tries to unclench his teeth and his chest is a tight knot of impotent rage. He’ll kill the cop if it’s the last thing he does, even if only because he knows that this was all for his benefit, for Merle to know who’s side Daryl’s on now.
It’s a chilling smile that twists his lips as Daryl tries not to moan anew, the sound of skin moving over skin again and he thinks of how much he’s gonna love slitting the throat of the cop while he listens to them, a mere twenty feet away.
x