A/N: So basically I have no idea where this came from. I got inspired while listening to the song Lonely Boy by the Black Keys and then this happened.
Apparently it's Rick/OC, and since I technically only have one Walking Dead OC, it's Rick/Nine. But this story has nothing to do with Nine Clocks a' Tickin' and it's pretty much just a smutty PWP.
But I hope you enjoy it anyway!

It started out sweet.

Like a few minutes of soft rain pour, leading to a lightning storm with thunder that made you jump out of your own skin.

I honestly didn't see it coming either. After a long days work, leaving all of us covered in sweat, blood and dirt, it was the last thing I expected to happen.

But when he looked me dead in the eye like that, after our heated conversation about our groups next destination, we both knew the only conclusion to this night.

His rough hands gripped my sides, slowly directing me to walk backwards toward one of the concrete walls enclosing his small "bedroom."

Our eyes never left contact that night for more than a short moment.

While both of us had become risk takers, people that think for the moment – not the aftermath, hard-asses that found the path to safety even when the world wanted to kill us; we decided not to think twice about this.

Or at least I didn't.

What can I say? His mouth on mine, the friction of our bodies only 2 filthy layers of cloth away from the exhilarating pressure of skin on skin, the knowledge of finally getting to release and let go – forgetting about the endless nights spent running and fighting for our very lives, who in their right mind wouldn't say it wasn't simply amazing?

I raised my arms above my head as he latched his fingers to my worn out tank top and lifted it up past my breasts. While he fumbled with the back of my bra, I threw my shirt behind him and ran my fingers through his long slicked back hair, trailing my fingertips to the back of his neck and down his back.

The temperature shot through the roof with every hungry, needy kiss he gave my body. When he finally reattached his chapped lips to mine, I took advantage of his shirt buttons until his withered police uniform fell to the ground along with my tank.

Although I always did love foreplay, the feeling a kid gets on the last few days before Christmas morning, the excitement rising inside you and a taste of what's in store for the rest of the night, I didn't need it now.

What I needed was just him.

Just Rick's bare chest against mine, the privilege of hearing his lust through his shaky breaths, grasping his strong shoulders to keep myself from sinking to the ground after my knees buckle under me.

And I knew he needed it too.

I became the mother to his new daughter and a role model to his growing son. I showed him how to find his strength after his world fell apart completely, after everyone denied their trust and loyalty toward him, after he lost his very mind.

It was no wonder that he poured himself around me. Lori wasn't there anymore, Daryl became his wingman. But me? I became his conscious. I kept my every promise to him and to his family.

I became apart of his family.

And this was my welcome.

I tried to keep from scratching and digging my nails across his skin, bruising him on accident. But once we had abandoned the last few articles of clothing that were left, it became increasingly difficult to keep quiet.

He lifted my knee and moved in closer, stroking my inner thigh and pulling back with damp fingers.

My hands touched every patch of his skin I could reach, including his most sensitive spots.

With his head on my shoulder and his face nuzzled against my neck, I could feel a gasp and even a small grin followed by a hitched breath when my palms slid up and down the hardness under his stomach.

His chin scratched the sensitive skin of my collar bone after he closed the space between us, holding me by my hips.

I swallowed down hard to keep from releasing a blissful moan, keeping my hands on his shoulders and tangled through his thick locks.

It was the first time in a long time for both of us. Felt almost like we were losing our virginity all over again.

He started out slow of course, like you would when doing something you haven't gotten a hang of quite yet. But I knew this man had experience, and he proved it to me faster than I expected.

I didn't know how much longer I could stand on my feet with his hips hitting mine over and over, the pads of his fingers pressing hard into my waist.

I had already let a few loud gasps and sighs to escape but I didn't feel bad about it, since his own moans had created a harmony with mine.

I never wanted it to end.

And in that moment it felt like it never would.

With our bodies attached, he lifted me up long enough to move us to his makeshift prison bed, lying me down under him and kissing my neck again.

My back arched as he gave me full, long thrusts, making the night last longer than we had planned.

I knew this wasn't just fucking. I hadn't had a man make love to me like this in years, and in the middle of an apocalypse, I had no idea it could be this good.

But our hips continued to smack together, my ankles locked above his backside.

The steam rose with every hungry kiss, suck and lick we could give to each other. His hands grabbed my wrists and slammed them down behind where my head rested, pinning me down as he jerked in and out of me, moving his rough lips all over my body.

I could feel my stomach start to twist.

My throat hitched till my moans reduced to almost inaudible sighs and whines, combining his gruff growls and the sound of his arousal hitting mine to be the harmony accompanying the night.

Suddenly his rhythm changed and his hips bucked into mine harder, faster, deeper.

I could feel how feverish his skin had gotten, how his arms had wrapped themselves around my body to get a better hold of me as he finally took the time to treat himself.

And oh, he wasn't only treating himself.

I couldn't extend it any longer, I had to uncurl my toes and let my core have its reward.

After taking his hand and holding it tightly over my own mouth, my eyes rolled to the top of my head, body shaking, muffled screams of his name, my slickness covering his buried length.

But he didn't stop. His abdomen continued to thrash between my thighs and his hands moved under my head to look at my expression of ecstasy.

The sapphire blue of his eyes was hardly noticeable, covered by dilated midnight circuits.

I held his head in my hands as well as I watched his jaw fall, the thrusts becoming slower, his only sound being a loud, heavy breath that narrated his euphoria as he climaxed.

And as he stared in my eyes with an intoxicating gaze, the corner of my mouth twitched to form a delighted smirk, knowing how well I had pleasured him.

With our hearts still racing faster than they do when we're outside killing corpses, he gave me a long amorous kiss upon my swollen lips, gently ghosting his hands over my body one last time.

It was exactly like a firework.

Leaving a blazing sting that hurt so painfully good.