She hadn't been entirely sure she could relax, either, and she's still can't promise not to seize up. And yet she is relaxed, for the moment and hopefully beyond, uncertainty and all. Even the slowed pace doesn't give her pause as she thought it might, though her thoughts, sluggish from a moment ago, could be contributing. The exact reason is indecipherable and irrelevant besides; she's more than fine, and they're most certainly not done.

If Daryl shows any hint of that desperate impatience again, Carol's very much prepared to match his speed, jump in his lap and race to the finish, she's not so cruel as to tease him after what he just did. But this matches her mood, easy and exploring, savoring the slow build. She slides free the buttons he didn't get to, making an amused sound when she finds his zipper down almost like an invitation -- one she gladly accepts. Her kisses become more adamant on his neck; careful, though, not to leave any telltale marks, neither of them need that aggravation.