Chapter 1: Mints

"Have your mints, " Rick offered, as he lightly tapped her hand three times.

Michonne barely heard Rick above the sound of her own heart racing, fueled by the rush of adrenaline that involuntarily coursed through her body in what must have been a reflex reaction to his touch. She had experienced something akin to this particular sensation before in those moments when they shared a furtive glance; an unspoken, mutual understanding; a quick brush of his fingers against her skin. But here they were, alone, relaxed, and at the moment, not fighting for their lives. 'This is different', she told herself in the split second before she curled her fingers upward to interlace them between his lingering ones. Even if she had wanted to, she was powerless to stop herself from revealing her insatiable need for the man she considered her best friend. 'This is what I want for me,' she finally admitted to herself, while she waited nervously for his reaction.

Rick swallowed reflexively in response to Michonne's subtle, intimate overture. It had taken him a second, but once he processed what was happening, he became fully invested in ensuring that it continue. He excitedly, yet gently, responded in kind to Michonne's gesture, humbled by the fact that she had exposed her vulnerability by seemingly making the first move, although his initial contact had been, as always, an invitation. As slight as her movements were, he understood that it was a risk for her to open herself up to him, let alone anyone, in this world gone to hell.

'God, she's so beautiful', he thought, as he turned to gaze into her eyes. The smile on his face grew wider when he saw her look of trepidation dissipate briefly into disbelief before fixing on desire for him. He wanted her, too. Badly. And now that they were finally able to breathe, they could acknowledge the feelings that had slowly developed between them. Rick knew she was waiting for his next move, but despite his eagerness, he wanted to take it slowly and savor every moment of discovery, at least initially. Still holding her hand, he leaned into her, his mouth watering in anticipation. As she brought her lips to meet his, the distance between them eliminated, he knew that this was the beginning of something different. Something right. Something perfect.

Michonne struggled to catch her breath in the brief, yet decidedly infinite time it took for Rick to bring those perfect lips of his to hers. As she closed the gap, every nerve ending seemed to quiver in anticipation of the kiss for which she realized she had been longing. The sexy combination of lust and tenderness he conveyed with the first touch of his mouth to hers started a chain reaction sending all sorts of electrical activity throughout her body. 'I can't believe this is happening' she admitted to herself, her thoughts racing to catch up to their diligent tongues, and yet what was happening was the only thing that made any sense to her.

"Wait..wait..wait a minute," Rick whispered, annoyed by the physical nuisance that was his gun and holster. "I got…a gun between my legs. Need to get it out. Damn it." He reluctantly pulled away, unstrapping his belt and placing it on the coffee table, muttering "Fuck" just before hearing Michonne's bashful laughter, the sound of which drove him wild. He turned back toward her, his eyes teeming with hunger, and murmured, "Ok, I'm good to go."

"Good," Michonne responded as she entwined her fingers through his curls, quickly getting over her shyness. Rick moved in for another fervent kiss, his tongue obviously eager to make up for the precious few seconds spent apart from hers, and Michonne had no qualms about granting him entry. 'God, he feels so good', she thought, getting lost so completely in the warmth of his touch that she wasn't sure she ever wanted to be found.

Dissatisfied with their upright position on the couch, Rick slid his hand down to her waist and expertly guided her lithe body below his, but not before taking a moment to smile and gaze into her radiant eyes, silently conveying all the things he needed her to know. He loved that she seemed a little shy, almost demure, and utterly removed from the steel-eyed, fierce, take-no-shit-from-anyone fighter that he admired so. This version of Michonne, he surmised, was ever-present but hidden away from everyone save a precious few who were given privileged access to her heart. In this moment, Rick was cognizant of just how fortunate he was to be one of them.

Michonne, in turn, marveled at his eyes, the depth of their blue rivaling that of the sea, and the dichotomy they posed. They could be tempestuous and savage, a necessary response to the brutality of their world, but more often than not they exposed the decency and compassion of the man who brought her back to life. As Rick took command of this fortuitous turn of events, he paused one more time to take in every feature of Michonne's gleaming face, unable to suppress that impassioned, almost disbelieving grin of his. "Fuck," he shouted in his head while every part of her, from her luminous complexion, to her full, succulent lips decimated what little self-restraint he had left.

Michonne whimpered, breathy from the physiological effects Rick's touch was having on her, and as his dexterous hands and tongue continued scouring for rewards, his low moans sent her over the edge. She was no longer responsible for her actions, she realized, having abandoned all inhibition and rational thought. "What is this man doing to me?" she questioned, unable to discern anything other than the fact that she liked it. Tremendously.

Michonne could feel the physical manifestation of Rick's feelings against her thigh, his hardness a direct contrast to his loving, affectionate overtures. She could tell that he was hungry for her, his ravenous mouth another dead giveaway, but despite his healthy appetite, he managed to imbue his touches with a tenderness she found absolutely enthralling.

Rick's fingers began a playful dance along Michonne's hips, gliding and waltzing their way up underneath her shirt along the contours of her taut belly until they reached the base of her bra. Undeterred, he cupped one of her voluminous breasts, fulfilling a long held desire, but was agitated by the hindrance that the fabric posed. Her tilting of her head back, coupled with her audible moan, was all the permission he needed to continue his pursuit. Just as Rick began to remove the obstacle in his way, Michonne reluctantly pushed against his chest, spurring a confused, crestfallen expression to temporarily form on his otherwise perfect face.

"Rick, wait. We shouldn't do this here," she cautioned, keenly aware that things were about to escalate quickly. "What if Daryl walks in? Or worse, Carl?"

Relieved that Michonne was only temporarily thwarting his advances, he sighed, resting his forehead on hers in acknowledgement of her propriety. Of course she was right. She usually was, but that didn't prevent him from feeling slightly annoyed by the delay. He had waited so long and patiently for this, but now that it was happening, all self-control was quickly dissolving.

"Shit. Yeah, okay," he sighed again, the corner of his lips turning upwards in an unabashedly devilish grin. "So what'll it be? Your place or mine?"

With Rick still on top of her, and all traces of reserve gone, Michonne decided without hesitation. "Yours," she insisted emphatically, surprising herself in the process. She was astounded by the prospect of sharing Rick's bed and wanted to be completely enveloped by not only his body, but his scent, his aura, the very air that he breathed. Under normal circumstances, Michonne would have silently cursed herself for showing her hand so obviously, but this was Rick and these were no ordinary circumstances. She didn't care if he realized how voracious she was for him, and realize it he did.

He smirked at her impetuosity, delighted, but not surprised, by her sudden boldness. He took her face in his palms, beamed a smile that told her that her feelings were unequivocally reciprocated, and delicately kissed her before whispering, "I'm ready when you are."

Michonne squeezed his upper arms and giggled at the feel of his breath against her ear while still trying to wrap her brain around what was happening. "Don't think," she reprimanded herself. "Just go with it. This is what you've wanted for so long." She propped herself up on her elbows, leaned in to echo his delicate kiss with one of her own, and suggestively guided her leg along the inside of his thigh, instigating an almost imperceptible series of tremors along his body. She, however, noticed. "I'm ready."

Rick gently slid his body off hers, pulling her up with him as he stood, neither of them breaking eye contact nor relaxing the blissful smiles plastered on their faces. With his arm around her waist he began to guide her toward the stairs, but just as they were about to ascend, they muttered in unison, "Wait."

They paused, eyeing each other curiously, then each sauntered over to the object that evoked their outburst. Michonne navigated her way to the mantle while Rick returned to the scene of the crime, grabbing the gun and belt off the coffee table. As he turned to see the katana in her hand, he chuckled, tilting his head sideways and downwards in that undeniably sexy way he always did. Michonne laughed back, flashing her gleaming white teeth, a result no doubt of her regimented dental care routine.

No words were necessary as they rejoined at the base of the stairs, her katana draped along her back. Michonne, still laughing, playfully nudged Rick with her hip. He responded by putting his free hand on her perfectly round bottom, pushing her slightly up the first step, and licking his lips as he watched those glorious muscles undulate back and forth as she ascended.

"You're staring at my ass right now, aren't you?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Uh huh," he teased. "You know I am."

"Like what you see?"

"Uh huh," he breathed, his smirk perceptible from the inflection in his raspy voice. "You know I do."

"Oh, I know," she smirked back, pulling him in as he reached the top step right behind her. She placed both hands on his face, lightly stroked the soft stubble outlining his jaw, and gazed at her future in his impossibly blue eyes. "I like what I see, too."