A/N: Ask and you shall receive! I've been playing with the idea of a sequel for a while, and I have an idea I feel good about. Let me know what you think!
Outside, the world was beginning to stir, the sleepy south coming alive on a Sunday morning. Cars rolled serenely down the street, heading to destinations unknown. The hotel at the end of the road was still mostly silent, its occupants sleeping off hangovers or enjoying a lazy weekend morning. In the honeymoon suite, a pair of newlyweds was stirring, doing their best not to wake the rest of the world up. The last of the summer sunlight streamed through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the king-sized bed and the couple twisted together atop it.
Rick kissed his wife on her shoulder, delighting in the contented sigh that fell from Michonne's lips.
"I thought you wanted to see the city today?" she asked on a breathless gasp.
Rick nipped at her, pulling her leg up over his arm. Michonne rolled backwards against him, pressing her rounded ass directly into him. He groaned loudly in her ear, sucking at her for good measure. "I've got everything I want right here," he told her, running his palm across her stomach.
She hooked her arm backwards around his neck, tilting her face towards him. Rick wasted no time in kissing her, parting her lips to deepen their connection. They had spent the better part of the week together like this. Rick regretted not a moment of it.
"Today's our last day," Michonne reminded him even as her hand guided his along her body. "Are you sure?"
"Baby," he ran his fingers along her skin, pausing to stroke the ticklish area below her hips. She inhaled sharply. "The only thing I want," he licked at her neck. "Is you," his hands slid between her thighs. "And me," she moaned, tightening around him. "Naked in this bed," he finished, pressing in deeper until her whole body shuddered.
"Is that all you want?" she asked, reaching back to grasp him. He faltered for a moment as her hand tugged him snuggly. He thrust his hips against her, unabashed as a moan fell from his mouth.
"No," he drawled, rubbing even harder at her. She began to writhe against him. "That ain't all I want." He pulled away just long enough to flip her over. She squealed delightedly, curling her hands into the sheets. Rick pulled her locs into his fist, tugging her hair all to one side so he could kiss her neck.
"Tell me," she requested, smiling devilishly at him over her shoulder. Her dark umber skin was covered in a light sheen, partly from sleeping so close to one another on a humid summer night, and partly because Rick could not seem to leave her alone for more than an hour at a time.
He cupped her ass, leaning over her until his chest was pressed flush against her back. "Why don't you tell me what you want?" he suggested, squeezing just to hear her squeal again.
Michonne pressed backwards into him, wiggling tantalizing. "I want my husband," she teased, voice heavy with lust.
"What do you want him to do?" Rick smacked her lightly, watching her body jiggle with the force. He smoothed his palm over her soothingly.
Michonne gathered her knees beneath her, presenting an enticing picture. "I think you know," she smiled at him, daring him to act on it.
Her smile melded into a pleasured moan as Rick slid home, fingers digging into her waist. His body responded to hers at once, ravenous, as though they hadn't been together dozens of times in the last week.
"Rick," his wife gasped, pressing her face into the pillows beneath her. "God…" She bounced backwards against him. Grappling against the sheets, she found his hand. She clutched it, panting in time with his thrusts. Her whole body jolted with the force of their affections.
Sweat began to drip down him, cooling his corded muscles. He bent forward, needing to feel more of her, his free hand running down her body in almost frantic patterns. Michonne voiced her approval unabashedly, tossing her head back. She began to shake, falling apart around him, pitching forward so she could muffle her pleasured screams in the pillow in front of her.
Rick slowed his movements, needing to see Michonne's face. She panted beneath him, shaking. He leaned forward, whispering in her ear. "Baby, turn over," he instructed. With a grin, she complied.
Michonne settled beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist. She stared up at him, her dark eyes heavily lidded, wearing an expression that always undid him completely. Rick lowered his mouth to her, kissing her, whispering endearments that were for her alone. She gasped, holding him, looking at him as though he were the only man in the world who mattered to her.
He'd kissed her for first time when they were barely 18 years old, just after their senior prom, after years of pining for her in secret. He could scarcely believe his luck when she'd responded, when she'd taken a chance on him, when she'd fallen in love with him too. Rick felt much like that teenage boy again as he caught a glimpse of the wedding ring on her left hand. His ring. He sported a matching gold band bearing her initials. Michonne's fingers found it, tracing the metal as she clung to his shoulder with her other hand. Rick took his time with her, rolling his hips to coax the moans he loved from her lips.
"Don't stop," she begged, pulling him deeper still. Her body molded to his, drawing him in.
"I won't," he promised. He began to move with more fervor, grunting. He muffled her pleasured cries with his lips, gasping as her second climax pushed him over the edge into his own.
Michonne went boneless against him, sighing contently. "We should just stay here," she breathed, laying her head against him. "Never leave the room."
He chuckled, kissing her shoulder again. "It ain't a bad idea," he admitted. "But I thought we had plans."
"Hmm," Michonne hummed. "Remind me what those were again?"
"You talked a big game about law school," Rick tickled her. "And I got a new job starting Monday."
"Oh right," Michonne smiled, pretending to ponder. "I think I remember something like that. Didn't we have a party?"
"Mmm hmm," he sucked gently at her skin, "We were having a good time with all our friends and family. But someone wanted to leave early."
"We didn't leave," she reminded him. "Just took a break."
"Is that what you call it?" he chuckled against her skin. Michonne laughed with him.
"The door locked. We were quick-"
"Not that quick," he protested. She began to laugh in earnest.
"Well, a bathroom isn't exactly the most comfortable place." She poked him accusingly.
Rick scoffed in mock shock. "Who's idea was it again?"
Michonne rolled over to face him. "Rick, it was completely your fault. You know I can't resist you in a suit. Or in uniform. You wore both that night." She began to play with his hair, eyes darkening the way they had on Draft Night. They'd managed to hold out for three hours at his party before she'd drawn him into the master bathroom.
"And you wore that red dress," he reminded her. "With the slit that went up to here," he dragged his hand along her leg, working up her thigh.
"Well," she grinned. "It made it easier, didn't it?"
A memory of Michonne with her skirt bunched up around her waist, biting his arm to stifle her moans filled his mind. "That was a good night," he held her closer.
Michonne nodded, "We've had lots of those,' she murmured.
It was an understatement really. Rick vaguely wondered how many people met the love of their life as teenagers. He wondered how many more couples managed to get through college unscathed, how many were blessed enough to follow their career dreams.
"I love you," he told his wife, tucking his head into the crook of her neck. Michonne held him back just as fiercely.
"I love you too, husband," she smiled, kissing his nose.
Rick rolled her beneath him again. Her legs curled up on either side of his waist. "At some point," she gasped, arching her back as they came together again, "we're going to have to leave this room. At least to eat."
He laughed, kissing her deeply. "Not yet," he pled.
"All right," she agreed, tugging his face down to hers. "Not yet."
-l-l-l-l-l-
"Could I please get a Neapolitan, and a...triple chocolate?" Michonne bent over to peer through the glass, staring at the containers of sweets inside.
"Want any toppings?" an uninterested teenage girl barely deigned to look up at them.
"Hot fudge," Rick piped up. "And sprinkles on the chocolate."
His wife shot him a delighted look over her shoulder, reaching back for his hand. Rick pulled her cozily under his arm. The employee dutifully scooped out their order into waffle cones. "That'll be $5.50," she intoned.
Rick slid her the bills. "I don't need change," he told her, handing Michonne her behemoth chocolate dessert. He accepted his own cone from the cashier.
The girl finally looked at him, her eyes widening. "I know you," she perked up, staring at him.
"Do you?" Rick asked, tucking his wallet away. He grabbed his wife's hand. Michonne looked on amusedly.
"How do I know you?" the cashier asked.
"Have a good one," Rick hazarded a smile, tugging his wife away. Michonne followed, leaving a bemused employee in their wake.
"Do you think she'll chase you?" Michonne laughed, licking at her dessert.
"I didn't think they'd know me out here," the thought sombered him, but Michonne did not look as though it upset her.
"Baby, you're about to be way more famous than that," she reminded him. "Get used to it, Mr. Number-One-Draft-Pick."
He smiled, taking a lick of his own cone. "It's just Rick," he protested. "Same as I've always been."
Michonne walked closer to him, stealing a bit of the strawberry from his cone. She smacked her lips dramatically. "I know that," she assured him. She handed her ice cream to Rick. He gamely traded her.
"You could always just get strawberry," he pointed out, watching his wife tear into his dessert.
"Yours tastes better," she said, happily eating.
"Maybe we should get actual food," he suggested.
"Can we get it to go?" she gave him a suggestive look. "It's our last night in that beautiful suite."
Rick kissed her, enjoying the taste of the ice cream. The cones were gone by the time they arrived back at the hotel, but Michonne was no less sweet. He scarcely managed to get the door to their room shut before she was on him, tugging his t-shirt over his head.
"We're going to need to get some new ones," she smiled as she threw his red Trojan's jersey to the ground. "I waited four years to get you in blue." She unzipped his jeans, letting them fall to the floor.
The thought of Michonne in his number sent his pulse racing. "I'll get you some," he promised. "They'll look better than that UCLA crap."
"Hey…" she warned, biting lightly at his shoulder. Rick only chuckled. He pulled his wife into his arms, hiking her up. The fabric of her sundress was cool in his fists as he pushed it up around her waist.
"Don't think I'm going to make it to the bed," he grunted. Michonne drew him in for a burning kiss, rolling her hips against his.
"Then don't," she gasped.
With a wicked grin, Rick turned them against the wall.
-l-l-l-l-l-
"You know," Michonne smiled at him as he settled into the seat next to her. "I think I could get used to this."
"Used to what?" he asked, buckling himself in. He stretched his legs out in front of him.
"The famous Rick Grimes," she teased, leaning towards him. She kissed his cheek, smoothing his hair back.
"Stop," he blushed, glancing around the cabin of the airplane.
"What?" she shrugged. "You worked hard for this."
"I haven't even done anything yet," he reminded her.
"Just got top pick in the rookie draft," she reminded him. "One of the youngest Dodgers in history." Her pride was evident in everything from her voice to her expression.
"It's embarrassing," Rick muttered. The attendant at the gate had almost screamed when he walked up. Before Rick could even introduce himself, they'd been upgraded to first class and shuttled forward through the lines.
Michonne stroked his face, holding his chin between her hands. "My modest country boy," she mused, kissing him. "This is just the beginning, you know?"
"Yeah," Rick ignored a group of businessmen glancing at him excitedly. He sunk down in his seat, leaning his head against his wife's shoulder. Michonne stroked his hair, running her fingers through his curls.
"Relax, baby," she soothed. "We'll figure this out. We always do."
"You've got law school to worry about," he said, squeezing her leg. "I hear Berkeley ain't easy."
She laughed, shaking her head. "I hear the same about the MLB." She lifted the arm rest between them, settling comfortably at his side. "But it's just two years. We'll fly back in forth. I'll study when you're on the road, and when you're home…" she ran her hand up his thigh suggestively.
"Don't start that," he cautioned lowly. "I don't think the bathroom up here is big enough. Not even in first class."
Michonne laughed, but moved her hand to hold his. "It's going to be ok," she reaffirmed, laying against him.
"I know," he leaned back, turning his attention to the flight attendant's safety presentation. "It's us."
"And we always figure it out," Michonne shut her eyes. She was asleep before they took off, leaving the south behind them for the sunny shores of California. Rick held her, staring out the window, watching the world below.
Sighing, he pulled the Dodgers cap over his eyes, settling in beside his wife.
