A/N: This one shot is purely my wild imagination producing what would be the most perfect ending of the episode that is to come, with a few suspected spoilers. Most of this will never happen but I can dream, can't I?
She could feel him watching her.
She always could; even before they ever kissed, before they fell in love, Michonne knew when Rick was watching her. She could feel that blue stare and though often she thought it would feel like cold, piercing daggers, especially when he was upset, instead his gaze was always warm, like tepid caribbean sea in the midst of summer, relaxing her, washing away a bit of the filth that anxiety and tensions left behind.
"I watched you leave this morning," he said, his eyes a subtle blue in the brightly lit bathroom. He tilted his head, his bearded jaw clenched and Michonne stiffened at his statement, her scowl deepened as she turned away. She unwrapped the towel from around her hair, shaking her locs as she looked at herself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. The woman she saw peering back at her looked exhausted and stressed, her eyes weary and clouded from a days worth of tears. A frown of discontent adorned her face and she appeared unapproachable; overwhelmed by grief and hiding behind a false layer of hopeful optimism.
Sleep had granted them no serenity and she lay awake beside Rick for hours after he'd poured his heart out to her in their warmed, shared bed, tangled within each others limbs, their pillow talk whispered in the darkness. The guilt he felt about Glenn and Abraham consumed him, clouded his judgement, and through tears he told her that he did not know if they could fight. Lulling him to sleep was a struggle but she knew exactly to comfort him; the only way she could.
They did not speak for the rest of that night, turning into each others embrace, tears gleaming in their tired eyes as they gazed at each other. Unable to find comfort in slumber, they sought it elsewhere, finding it instead in the taste of each other, in the desperation that followed as they freed themselves from the bondage of their clothing and made love frantically. The sensation of their bodies joining, muffled cries buried against heated skin, nails leaving behind marks of shared frustrations until they brought each other to healing, impassioned release. And even then, as Rick drifted off into heavy slumber with his arms around her, sleep did not greet her and she chased slumber like a game of cat and mouse.
Michonne had stayed awake all night, watching the early hours of pastel dawn creep into view outside their window. She thought of Glenn. She thought of Abraham. She thought of Maggie and Sasha and Rosita and Eugene and Aaron. She thought of Carl and Judith, warm and healthy in their beds. Of Rick as he snored softly beside her.
These people were her family and as she lay there naked, hot fury began to course through her veins at the very thought of Negan; of what he'd done. How he treated Rick. The way he humiliated him and used Carl to break him. The way he'd killed Glenn and Abraham and made her family watch them suffer.
They had to fight.
Negan had to die.
Rick's 'plan' worried her, for he hardly seem to have an approach at all, but she knew he wasn't thinking clearly enough and that his mindset would result in ill decisions being made. She had to do something; anything to help him lead this place and help them continue to prosper. Whenever she caught his gaze, he was distant, meandering through the guilt he had tried to break free of. Michonne knew she had to take matters into her own hands.
She'd thought that she felt that familiar gaze on her as she pulled the rifle from the fireplace earlier that morning, but she ignored the feeling and left anyway, hoping that perhaps he didn't see or care.
She almost shrugged in response. She was stressed. All she longed for at that very moment was a few greedy gulps of the red wine she had found long ago on a run and stashed away for a moment when she could no longer resist the craving for it; when the pain of grief and constant anxiety was too much. She was having one of those moments. Rick stepped closer to her and she met his eyes in the mirror's slightly fogged reflection. "On top of everything that's happened, now I have to worry about you being out there... on your own."
"I'm fine," Michonne said at last, walking past him to enter their bedroom in her pale blue robe. She shrugged out of it and dressed swiftly, feeling Rick's eyes on her nakedness as she did.
"When I saw you... I thought you were leavin' me," he said, and his voice broke a bit. Michonne pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and turned to face him at last. Their eyes met and her breath hitched, caught in her throat as he stared back at her, his expression somber.
"I'm not going anywhere, Rick," she promised. The furrow of his brow deepened and she saw him tongue the inside of his cheek, his eyes pale blue and glazed with frustrated tears.
"But you did."
"But I'm here now. That's what matters." Rick's shoulders squared and his fists clenched at his sides. A shaky breath left him and he stepped closer, the same distant look still in his eyes that she hated to witness.
"He was here. He was here inside these walls; inside this house, Michonne! And I was already outta my mind before he got here. As if it wasn't enough that I had to tell everyone that I'm not in charge anymore, he took medicine, he took weapons, and everyone here watched it happen and no one- no one was here to back me up." His words made her heart ache. "Why did you leave?" he asked, trying to calm himself with steady breaths. "I needed you here with me. Something could've happened to you." Michonne sighed, pursing her lips.
"You told me that you didn't have a plan, Rick. It sounds like you don't want to do anything about Negan. Even after what he's done to us..." He bristled again and she realized she'd escalated the situation further with her statement.
"That's not what I said," he muttered through clenched teeth. "That's not what I said and that's not what I meant. I have a plan." He sat down on the edge of their bed and placed his head in his hands, staring down at his booted feet. She hated to see him like this, but he wasn't being forward enough with her and it frustrated her like nothing else.
"Then why have you been keeping me in the dark?" Rick sighed and met her gaze again.
"For your safety. For everyone's safety." She tilted her head, unsure of what he meant and she almost smiled. His traits were rubbing off on her. Michonne slowly approached him as he sat on their unmade bed, standing before him. He tilted his head up, their eye contact unwavering, the twinkle in the blue of his orbs dancing as he looked up at her. "I need for everyone here to think that we're terrified of Negan. That we're all going to submit and that we have no intention of fighting back. He has to think that we've given up."
Michonne smirked.
"But we're not...right?" she asked. Rick smiled back, his classic crooked grin making her pulse quicken.
"No. We're not." Relief washed over her tense frame and she sighed as Rick stood and wrapped his arms around her. He gazed down at her, his eyes pleading and hopeful.
"So, you aren't leaving? Even if-"
"I'm staying," she whispered, cutting him off, and their lips met hungrily. At the first taste of him, she realized that they hadn't kissed all day and she moaned against his mouth, parting her lips and asking for his tongue. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers already twisted in his curls and he pulled her closer, groaning when their tongues met. His hands drifted as she pulled away to stare into his eyes. "But I'm still going out on runs... and for target practice too." Rick pulled back immediately.
"You've done this before, Michonne," he grumbled. She watched him as he spoke to her. She could see the tension return, the rigid strain and the frustration evident in his expression; the furrowed, wrinkled brow that formed when he became upset. She knew those wrinkles could be eased and dissolved only by her soothing words, or by the meeting of flesh; of lips and skin and the most sensitive places, by the release their lovemaking brought.
A light flush accompanied his tense disposition, his lips furious with words, pink and full; lips she knew were softer than any flower petal she had ever pressed against her own. They were framed by his graying beard, licked by his tongue as he spoke her name, an inquiry to the whereabouts of her attention. She blinked at him and turned, retrieving her special bottle of wine and her coconut oil from her bedside drawer.
"You mean back at the prison?" she asked. She was trying to keep the situation calmed. She didn't want to escalate this discussion into yet another argument; they'd disagreed enough as of late. Rick met her gaze intently, searching her eyes and stepping closer as she passed him to leave, his attitude shifting as she stared at him. The intensity of it all made her heart race.
She thought back to those times at the prison, but oh, how long ago it seemed. She would leave the prison grounds on horseback, alone for days at a time with Flame as her only companion, looking for the cold-blooded murderer that had hurt so many people, ruined so many lives and had taken many more.
Each time, she'd come back empty-handed and a slight twinge of disappointment always plagued her, but when she returned home and entered those gates, she had always felt relieved. She recalled Rick's smile every time they saw each other again, when he greeted her happily as she dismounted Flame, his eyes lively and the bluest of blue, his smile bright and his demeanor shy like that of a schoolboy; sweat on his brow and beading on his chest, in the sprigs of hair that had sprouted there, evidence as his laboring in the field. Just the thought of all those memories, made her warm in all the right places; deep in her heart, hidden between her thighs.
"Yes," he said sincerely, pouting a bit and giving her a slight nod as he followed closely beside her, down the stairs, out of their home and to the empty house next door. The sun would soon set, they realized, and Alexandria was calming, the trickle of light rain pelting the couples clothes and skin as they rushed away to their secret spot; their home away from home. Michonne closed the door as they entered the empty dwelling, uncorking the wine immediately and taking a long swig. Rick raised a brow at her and quietly gestured towards the bottle of wine. She handed it to him and he took several sips of its contents, sharing a few swigs with her along the way. "Back at the prison," he continued. "You always left to look for the governor, and I couldn't stop you but... I wanted to. You don't know how bad I wanted to ask you to stay."
If she hadn't softened enough already from the thrill of seeing him again after such a strenuous day, and the wine, she knew, would only sweeten her mood more and she melted at the declaration of his confession. She began to ponder the thought of Rick daydreaming about her when she left, perhaps in bed, perhaps while he touched himself and thought of her. She bit her lip.
"Why didn't you ask me to?" Rick smiled a little; shyly, sweetly as he turned his head a little.
"Wasn't my place. Besides, even if I had asked, you would've just talked me into takin' your side anyway." His statement made her giggle and his eyes brightened at the sound. A fleeting moment of laughter was the most pleasant feeling she'd had all day.
Michonne stepped past him, brushing against him lightly, purposefully, as she made her way down the corridor, bottle of wine and jar of coconut oil still in her hands. Rick followed her without hesitation, the scuffle and clop of his boots close behind her as she retreated.
"You're always saying that. That I can talk you out of doing things," she said, ascending the staircase, knowing that without a doubt Rick was staring at her ass as she did so.
"It's true. You can; you do. You appear at the perfect time to talk to me...right when I need you, and you know just what to say to me to calm me down, to comfort me. Or to put me in my place." He chuckled. "Like an angel or somethin'."
His words. Often, he spoke like this, as if he was pouring his heart out to her, as if he'd never poured his heart out to anyone before. Perhaps he hadn't.
She finally reached the top of the staircase and turned to face him as he joined her. "You don't know how much I worry about you when you're gone. I know you've got things covered; that you don't need my help." He paused to smile down at her. "You're good with your sword. And with that rifle too. You don't even need me... but I crave bein' out there with you. So I can make sure you're alright..." His low drawl trailed off as their eyes met again, and now his were melancholy and dark blue, his pupils wide in the low light.
"You worry too much," Michonne murmured, their bodies closer now, lips hovering.
"I know," he replied. "But you can't keep me from going out on one of these runs with you." She stiffened, turning away to enter the master bedroom. She placed the wine and coconut oil on the window pane as she came to gaze outside. She could see Rick in the glass reflection, standing behind her, but his attention to her never faltering.
"Yes, I can," she stated firmly. "You have to be here in case Negan and his little pawns show up. I know what I'm doing. You don't need to worry about me. Don't try to make me stay here because you're afraid that something will happen to me... You need me, Rick." She could see Rick's determination dwindle at her statement and he sat down on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped.
"You're right," he murmured, unholstering his H&K and placing it on his lap. "You're always right."
"Of course I am," she said. She toed off her boots, her feet aching with each light step. "You need to be here. Like you said, he needs to think you're cooperating with him or that asshole will pull something again. And I can't take seeing anything happen to anyone else." She looked away, a lump rising quickly in her throat.
She missed Glenn. She missed Abraham. And she hated Negan. Just the thought of his name made her bristle. "He showed up at the gates unexpectedly today and he could do it again when you aren't here. You don't want that to happen, do you? You need to be here with Carl and with Judith." Rick nodded his head and cast his gaze down at his feet like a reprimanded child.
"See, this is what I meant. You always talk me outta these kinds of things, Michonne, and I'm beginning to wonder if it's because you'd be a better leader, because I sure as hell haven't been a very good one..." She turned away from the window to face him, her dreads swinging about her, framing, dancing around her face.
"You've done everything you can to be a good leader, Rick. That's why everyone here still looks to you. No one is asking you to be perfect." He looked up from his folded hands, his sidearm in his grasp and he met her gaze, eyes clinging to the remnants of sunshine pouring, dripping into the room, making his eyes bright and blinding like two sapphires in a glass display.
"I never wanted this...I've told you that before, right? That when the world went to shit and I woke up in that hospital, after I found Lori and Carl, I didn't think the path I took was going to end with me being a leader in a place like this." He waved his hand towards unseen Alexandria, miles of their gated community all around them, bustling a bit more now before the sun was to set. Michonne smiled softly at him, admiring the way his eyes scanned her, for they were bright and full of love as he watched her walk towards him. She sat down on the edge of the bed next to her lover, their thighs touching. Rick lifted a hand and rested it on her knee, squeezing her softly, silent and patient for her reply.
"But that's life, right? We get thrown into unwanted and unexpected situations all the time, Rick. You know that. We're tested constantly...The rules keep changing." He nodded softly and she lifted a hand, running her hand over his curls and tucking the thickest ringlet behind his ear. "None of us were prepared for the way the world was going to turn out, but we all have to deal with what gets thrown at us. And no, maybe sometimes we don't handle things in the best possible way... but at least we're trying. And we're gonna get through this. We all are." Rick blinked up at her, his head still slightly bowed as if ashamed. Michonne touched his cheek and he lifted his gaze. She was lost again in his eyes for the hundredth time. "What have I been telling you?" Rick's eyes closed as her thumb caressed his bearded face and he smiled a little.
"You're with me," he whispered. "You're still with me." She leaned forward and kissed him softly, her mouth covering his bottom lip, her kiss a gift for his correct answer. He moaned immediately, his eyes opening slowly and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body against his own roughly. She stared back as she ran her tongue over his top lip, grazing his teeth. He tasted of wine and her fingers found the curls behind his ears; the hair she loved to weave her grasp into, to clutch, to pull, locks of the deepest brown, ringlets like spun silk, curled from spools. The kiss deepened rapidly, as it always did, frenzied and greedy, the sucking of tongues and lips their favorite teasing game.
Rick's hands, hot and calloused and gentle, crept beneath her tank top, snaking under the hem to caress her back. She pressed closer to him, kissing him hungrily and clutching his face as he eased her back on the bed, hovering over her. He'd already shifted into position as their mouths moved together in perfect sync but her brain was swimming, the wine and the warm, comforting touch of his hands on her skin making her giggly. Rick pulled back and smiled down at her.
"I love makin' you laugh," he whispered. "I just want you to be happy." She looked up at him, his love apparent in his gaze and her heart swelled. "Tell me what you need; anything you want, and I'll do it." She opened her eyes and lost herself in his gaze again, noticing the sincerity in his voice, deep and sexy and in a tone reserved only for her. She shook her head softly, pressing her thighs together and nearly moaning. "I can think of somethin'." Rick stood and retrieved the coconut oil from its place on the windowsill, opening the jar and lifting it to his nose to inhale the gooey contents. His eyes closed and he sighed. "I'm gonna warm this up in my hands so I can spread it all over you...and then I'm going to devour you."
Michonne bit the inside of her bottom lip hard, the sharp pain a distraction from the stirring deep in her belly, the heat igniting between her thighs. If there was one thing Rick was confident about as of late, it was his performance in their bed. She could feel herself grow wet her panties sticking to her skin and she began to ache, to pine for his touch, for she knew the caress of his calloused hands could cure her. She had discovered that they both could heal each other with words of affirmation, with the touches and caresses of hands. Professions of love whispered as they pleased each other, tears shed, their bond strengthen with each thrust, each kiss, each passing day. She herself had narrowly escaped death hours before while she'd been outside of Alexandria. She was going to cherish this.
"That alright with you?" he murmured. Michonne nodded as she sat up straight, pulling her tank top over head and casting it aside. Rick watched her as he unbuttoned his denim shirt with one hand, the coconut oil still in his grasp, still raised to his nose to inhale its scent. He smirked. "Hurry up and get those clothes off then." She smirked. She loved to let him take charge like this, for it was the only place she let him take charge like this. The only place in which he knew exactly what he was doing, every single step, no second guessing, no doubt, no worry of what was to come when he made his decisions. Only the purest, rawest confidence and he liked to take advantage of each moment that she let him dominate her, but she knew if she uttered even one request against his own wishes, he would not deny her.
Rick toed off his boots and set the jar aside on the nightstand so that he could help Michonne remove her dark, skintight jeans. She unfastened them and wiggled as she pushed the fabric, for they were damp from the light rain and heavier than normal. Rick eased them down her legs anxiously before throwing them aside and removing her socks. Michonne leaned back on the bed, propped up on her elbows as she watched him stand and shed his own clothing; a striptease just for her.
He undid the last button of his blue shirt, his torso bare and scarred, his chest hair gone now, as he was recently in the habit of shaving it all away until he was smooth, his skin carved with the faintest rippling curves of sculpted ivory. She reached out to him as he shrugged out of his shirt. It fell from his shoulders and pooled blue around his socked feet. Her fingertips traced his healed wounds, wounds she knew the tales of; the stories behind the scars. The gunshot that put him in a coma just before the world turned upside down. The raised and darkened stab wound Morgan had left him with when she, Rick and Carl had all visited King's County together in search of weapons, ammunition and supplies.
When Rick pressed his lips to her stomach, she saw the scar across his nose, the one beneath his eye, the battles scars he received from men who wanted to kill him, to take him away from her. Men she'd saved him from. Men that were dead now.
But they were still alive. They were together. No one was going to take him from her.
Rick straightened his posture again to remove more of his clothing, reaching down and unbuckling his gunbelt slowly, his gaze fixed on hers; that knowing expression, that crooked smile. She sat up suddenly, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. Rick stepped out of his jeans and joined her on the bed. He eased the straps down her shoulders, kissing her collarbone gently as the garment fell to rest upon the bed.
Michonne leaned back onto the bed as he ran his hand over her body, leaning over to kiss her again, slowly and then hungrily. He broke the kiss and traced his fingers down her taut stomach, admiring her body lovingly. His fingertips grazed the lining of her purple panties, spun cotton with little fabric to contain her ass. He had discovered this, flipping her over suddenly and easing his warm hand into her panties from behind.
He caressed her ass, her skin gliding against his palm, a teasing stroke above the cotton or a satisfying one beneath it. She lifted her legs and he finally pulled her panties down. They drifted past her toes, he lifted them to his nose and inhaled her scent, moaning, licking his lips.
"I can't wait to taste you again," he murmured, and she knew by his statement that tonight was going to be a night full of vocal lovemaking. Unlike the night before. And how she loved to hear his thick southern accent, to taste it on his tongue, feel it in the vibrations it caused. The sweet nothings he whispered only a guttural drawl against her ears, her full lips or her fluttering. She moaned and turned suddenly, now on her back and completely naked in the cool guest home. Her nipples hardened in the crisp air and she tossed her locs away from her face, scooting up further on the sheets and waiting to be pampered.
Rick laughed softly and stood, retrieving the jar of cocunt oil from the nightstand. He opened it and scooped some into his hand, warming it and melting it between his palms before he returned to the bed. He straddled her, his knees on either side of her own. Michonne opened her eyes and stared up at him, giggling.
"What are you waiting for?" she asked. Rick smiled.
"I'm just lookin' at you. Admiring you." She shook her head.
"Touch me," she whispered, just as a heavy drop of warm, sticky coconut oil fell from his palm and landed in her belly button. She started giggling again, softly, her laughter shortened by a gasp as Rick's hands finally touched her skin and his lips touched her navel, the oil spilled there warm against his mouth. As he kneaded her flesh, the scent of coconut filled their nostrils and the room, making their mouths water. He ran his oiled hands down her arms, over her stomach, up her ribcage and to her breasts, down her thighs and he caressed every toe, his strokes slow and measured. She moaned a little and Rick grasped her hips and turned her over, listening to her giggle all the way.
"You're tense," he whispered, applying pressure with his thumbs against her lower back, causing her to moan softly. She grabbed a pillow and rested it beneath her face, sighing as Rick massaged her tight muscles, his touch exciting her and comforting her all at once. He was so attentive to her. No part of her ignored by his hands and she closed her eyes and thought of how much she loved him; how good he was to her.
"You have the most beautiful skin," he whispered, dipping his head again to place a kiss on her oiled shoulder. She moaned. "What's wrong?" he asked, sensing something in only her moan, his voice low in her ear. Michonne sighed.
"It's just that... this is the first time I've felt good in days and I..." She surprised herself, her voice breaking and tears springing anew in her eyes. "I'm just glad I have you."
"Oh, sweetheart," Rick said, turning her gently to face him and laying down beside her. "You'll always have me." He smirked. "I'm still with you too." She smiled back at him and wiped a tear away quickly, reaching out to him as he began to run his hand over her oiled skin again.
"You said I can have whatever I want, right?" she asked softly and Rick nodded in reply, his smile widening as he ran his hand over her stomach and hips, marveled by the radiance of her skin.
"But I already know what you want," he said. "I know you better than you know yourself, 'Chonne." She snorted laughter and swatted at him and he grinned. "I do," he assured her. She raised a brow and pursed her lips.
"Prove it," she whispered.
•••
She could take his teasing no more. The hot oil on hands she loved to feel and hold and warm kisses from lips she loved the taste of more than wine, showered her body with adoration. Every inch of her flesh worshipped and it was too much. She was all sensation, her thoughts and worries gone, the only thing on her mind being the urgency, the craving, to be pleased. Sated. Fucked until the point of madness. Her body sought the anticipation of his thrusts, the numbing, tingling seconds between each one, the lust to be filled again and again by him. It drove her wild. She gasped as Rick's lips brushed her inner thigh, his nose tickling her where she needed him most. But she would not beg. Not a chance. She bit her lip and held her breath and then...
His tongue found her waiting, warm and wet and craving the love of his mouth and she opened herself to him, moaning, spreading her legs wider as he lapped at her once.. twice... and more, until counting no longer made sense and all that mattered was his tongue on her. Her fingers found their rightful place, threaded into his curls and she pulled at the trendils as she writhed, gasping and shuddering beneath his eager mouth.
"I'll never get over how good you taste," he breathed, barely giving himself enough time to speak before his mouth was on her again. Her hips bucked and she held him tighter, terrified that he would leave, that he'd withhold her pleasure, though he seemed to have no intention of going anywhere anytime soon. He held onto her tightly, one of his hands splayed across her tummy to hold her in place as she squirmed. His free hand snaked towards her and he slowly trailed it up her ribcage to her breast, running his thumb over her nipple again and again.
Rick lapped at her voraciously, groaning often, his eyes closed as he pleased her with his mouth, the caresses and flicks of his lips and tongue swift and unmeasured, sloppy and impassioned. His beard tickled her thighs. She let her eyes roll shut, melting and surrendering to him, more so when he closed his lips around her clit and sucked it like a butterscotch candy, rolling his tongue over it as Michonne shuddered helplessly.
"Oh, fuck," she gasped, her body jerking. He kept sucking, the pressure gentle and just enough to send her spiraling over the edge. "Rick." His name caught in her throat, a raspy plea for mercy as her climax took over her body, casting aside all else, all necessities, leaving only spine tingling pleasure and breathlessness. Her body stiffened and relaxed repeatedly, her moans in time with each surge of agonizing euphoria. Drops of her sweetness trickled onto Rick's tongue and he licked it up earnestly.
She rode out her orgasm with trembling hips, her back arched, Rick's mouth still pressed against her as he watched her come for him. She held him to her and grinded against his face and he moaned, pleasured alone by giving pleasure. He lifted his head, his lips and chin and beard glazed with the evidence of her orgasm and it made her giggle, her laugh in sighs as she lay beneath him on the pale blue duvet.
Rick smiled down at her, removing his dark blue boxers hurriedly and climbing onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around her snuggly and eased her gently onto her back against the pillows, his hand tangled in her hair and he kissed her so softly that she ached for more, her mouth watering for another taste of him. When he kissed her again, she moaned, arching her back until her breasts grazed his warm, bare chest, her body begging for relief.
He slid inside her slowly, her wetness and the coconut oil on her pussy a slippery and toe-curling combination. They moaned in unison as their bodies joined and Michonne wrapped her legs around his waist as tightly as she could, readjusting her hips until the angle was so perfect that he sank deeper inside her warmth, buried to the hilt. They both moaned again, licking their lips in anticipation for what was to come, wrapping their arms around each other until they were so close that she could feel her skin melt into his.
Rick began to move and instantly she was in a trance, lost, her eyes already rolling back, their skin pressed so closely together that she couldn't tell when he ended and she began and it warmed her soul. He buried his face in the curve of her neck as he thrusted, kissing her there fervently, his breath hot, his moans tickling her sensitive skin. Michonne tilted her head back, her mouth falling open as she waited for each rough and steady thrust, gasping when he filled her again and again, urging himself deeper.
When he pulled back and kissed her deeply, she could taste herself on his tongue, on his bottom lip, her favorite lip, and she sucked his mouth like candy for she tasted sugary and tarte like the juices of the fruit they often ate together. She ran her fingers through his silken curls, arching and meeting his thrusts greedily, opening her eyes to meet his gaze. They watched each other as they made love, lost in the blue and brown of their souls connecting, lashes fluttering ever so often when it felt so good that they couldn't bear to keep their eyes open.
And just when she parted her lips to ask for him to fuck her harder, he groaned before she could utter the request, tightening his arms around her and pounding into her, quickening his pace until the bed rocked beneath them, the headboard slamming against the wall repeatedly. Michonne bit down on her bottom lip in an attempt to quiet herself but the cries that left her escaped freely and they were clear and raw and passionate.
"You can be as loud as you want, baby. I wanna hear you," Rick whispered in her ear, a pause between his thrusts before he began to fuck her hard again, emitting gasps and sighs and cries from her mouth that filled the room and joined in the rhythmic music their lovemaking produced. She sank her nails into his back and scratched him until he groaned, his moans turning to whimpers when she ran her tongue over the spot on his neck that made him tremble. She could taste his sweat there, the brine of his days' labor on his pale skin.
She could feel his heart flutter beneath her tongue, the beating of it wild and frantic as he kept a unsteady pace, giving in to his carnal desires and losing himself inside her until she screamed. A knowing tingle began to trickle down her spine and it pooled between her thighs, warm and sweet and oozing like melted honey. Sensing her climax, Rick clutched her body close to his and suddenly turned, positioning Michonne over his lap as he sat up on the bed. She giggled, for she never grew tired of the surprise of being lifted by him effortlessly, thrown about in his strong arms into whatever position he craved to fuck her in until he brought her to shivering orgasm on his cock.
Michonne lifted her hips and began to ride him slowly and he clutched her ass in his rough hands, helping her move. Their mouths met immediately, for they were anxious to taste each others moans as she bounced slowly and torturously on his length. He deepened their kiss until she was dizzy and she gasped when his nails sank into her skin, her lips pressed to his when she giggled.
"What?" he asked, bouncing her as she sat on his thighs, his cock slipping inside her again and again. She was losing her mind and breathlessness made her doubt that she could speak.
"You said you know what I want... I bet you have no idea what I want right now," she whispered between moans, and her nipples hardened and grazed his bare chest each time she moved, causing her eyes to roll shut. Rick chuckled and shook his head, kissing her collarbone tenderly.
"To come," he murmured. "And then to come again." He captured her mouth with his again and quickened the pace until she was whimpering. He was right. She almost hated him for being right, until he reached his hand between her ass and ran his finger over her there, in the most secret and most sensitive of places, somewhere she knew he had always wanted to touch her and it slipped inside her slowly. A low guttural groan unlike any other left her lips and her body began to tremble.
She pulled at his curls, her breath in shocked gasps as he edged her closer and closer to the precipice and she could curl her toes no more, could no longer keep her eyes open for they had rolled back in her head long ago and were pleased to stay there. He used his other hand to caress her skin, just the way he knew she liked it, and she knew that he knew she was close. She pushed his face against her breasts and he moaned, using his mouth to lavish her nipple with unwavering attention; slow, slippery flicks of the tongue until the licks drove her mad, his finger still teasing her, filling her past the point she thought she could be filled and she could take no more. She groaned and her eyes squeezed shut as she slowly sank her nails into his nape, crying out his name suddenly, her hips bucking and she stiffened and held him close, shuddering as the first warm, trickling wave rushed over her.
"That's it," Rick whispered lovingly, letting go of her nipple and lifting his mouth towards hers. She yanked at his curls, her mouth falling open against his as stronger surges of intense pleasure rocked her oiled frame. She cried out again and it felt so good to scream, to let go so violently with him inside her. She kissed him greedily, the sweet taste of him dizzying like the effects of liquor.
She opened her eyes to see Rick gazing up at her. The room was dark now, the candles casting a golden glow and his eyes were earthy and filled with admiration. With devotion. With warm, never-ending desire as he used both hands to grip her ass and bounce her as he had before, prolonging her climax, grunting when she began to whimper pitifully from the onslaught of his slippery thrusts. She clutched his face in her hands, her eyes rolling shut again when their mouths met again in a sloppy rage, tongue and saliva exchanged to the point of messiness, kisses desperate, breath lost and in need of catching. Rick moaned, tightening his grip on her and Michonne could feel his cock jerk inside her.
"Oh, fuck," he choked, "Michonne." His voice turned to a whisper and she loved the sound of her name on his mouth, the taste of it on his tongue. Feel the rumble of his drawl, his sweet lips moving against hers. The muscles in his arms tensed as he tightened his grip further and she watched his face as his body shuddered, his jaw clenched and she saw the beginning of his transformation; the tensions of the day replaced with the furrowed brow reserved for his pleasured expression in the midst of climax, the way his jaw relaxed as she took him further, his mouth falling open. She could feel his hot seed spilling deep inside her and mingling with her own come, trickling down her walls and it was messy and sweet and just what they both needed. He kissed her again, lifting his hand to her face and sighing, his eyes closed. "I love you," he murmured against her mouth, trying to catch his breath as he continued to come, running his thumb over the apple of her cheek. Michonne blinked softly at him and pressed her forehead against his, overcome, numb in the most pleasant of ways, her heart swollen and warm and heavy in her chest. She felt drunk but she knew it was not from the wine.
It was from Rick.
From the healing his love brought her. From the taste of his mouth and the touch of his hands, remedial caresses and therapeutic kisses. His compassionate words of affirmation. And she knew without a doubt that he felt the same way about their love.
He needed her. And she needed him.
She held his face in her hands, caressing his beard and kissing him like it was the last sweet kiss they would ever share.
"I love you too," she whispered and they began to move again, already longing to make each other come once more, aching to be sated and sleepy and spellbound and wrapped around each other for the rest of the night.
•••
"I brought you something..." Rick murmured.
They had scurried back over to their house and were in their own room now, leaving the empty homes' linens in a sweaty, sticky pile of rumpled sheets, pillows with drool and buried cries left in the stitches, professed love hidden in the duvet.
Michonne now lay beneath their own sheets, smiling at the man she loved as he rose naked from bed and walked to his drawer. "You're not the only one that goes out on runs, you know," he said, hiding things behind his back as he crawled into bed. Michonne could feel herself becoming excited and she felt silly. She approached him on her hands and knees, naked, the sheets slipping off her skin as she reached out. "Hey, that's not fair. No peeking," he whispered. She heard the crinkling of a wrapper and nearly lost it.
"Show me," she said. Rick always brought her the sweetest gifts. He was so attentive; always listening for a clue as to what she might want if anyone ever came across it. He smiled at her, his eyes lively from the candles he lit and he finally revealed one of the items in his hands. The orange wrapper made her eyes widen and she snatched the object from him, beaming like a child on Christmas morning. "A Big Kat?!" She stared down at the familiar wrapper and felt tears spring unexpectedly. "You remembered."
The railroad tracks. The bet with Carl to see who could balance the longest.
A fond memory of hers. Perhaps of Rick too.
"Of course I remembered," Rick whispered. "I haven't forgotten anything about you, Michonne." He smiled softly and nodded towards the candy bar. "Go on. Eat some of it. I know you want to." She stared down at it a bit longer and then ripped it open, taking a big bite of its contents and letting the chocolate melt in her mouth. She closed her eyes.
"Thank you," she murmured.
"I got you something else." His voice had changed now; she noticed. She met his gaze and swallowed the chocolate, blinking at him as he sat next to her, on his knees, one hand still behind his back. He appeared to be nervous, his skin flushed from his cheeks to his chest, a change in color she saw often.
"What is it?" she asked. Rick swallowed hard and revealed a small black velvet box in his hand and Michonne's heart jumped. She wrapped the rest of the candy bar up and set it aside, reaching for the box only to have him pull it away gently. He opened it slowly and a gold band caught the light, winking at her marvelously, the round diamond following suit, blinking repeatedly from candlelight in rapid succession. A lump rose in her throat. "What is this?" Rick laughed nervously and plucked the ring from the box.
"Come on, Michonne. You know exactly what it is..." He reached out and took her left hand, slipping the ring on her finger slowly.
It was the perfect fit.
She tried to speak, but the lump in her throat blocked all words that so desperately pleaded to leave her parted lips. Rick set down the little black box on the bedside table and scotted closer to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her down onto the pillows with him. He cradled her against his chest and she propped herself up, staring down at her ring finger.
"You don't have to say yes. You don't have to say anything right now. It's just that..." He cleared his throat. "If I die tomorrow, I want you to know how much you mean to me. That you aren't just the woman I share my bed with. I love you. I've loved you for a long time. You've been by my side through so much... I don't know where I'd be without you..." Michonne smirked a little, though she was beginning to cry, tears beading in the corners of her eyes as she gazed down at her adorned hand. The tears made the diamond appear to sparkle even more.
"You'd be dead without me," she croaked, holding back more tears, finishing his thought and Rick laughed.
"True," he whispered. "On more than one occasion, too. And it's more than I've ever done for you. But Glenn..." He stopped and took a deep, shaky breath. "Glenn talked to me about doing something for you, picking out a ring for you, if it's all I can do... said gold would look nice. And I talked to Abraham before it all went-" He stopped and exhaled, his eyes filling with tears. "He talked to me about being afraid of letting someone in again and I admitted I was, but I can't be afraid anymore. I don't know how many more days I have with you, but I want 'em to count. And I just wanted you to know I love you and if I could marry you tomorrow with no worry of that asshole Negan or his men ever bothering us again, I would." Michonne looked down at her hand.
"But we do have to worry about Negan, Rick, and he can't see this ring." Rick nodded.
"I know, so you can only wear it in here, in our bed at night when we come home. For now, it'll be our little secret." He smiled softly. "And when we take care of Negan, you can wear it wherever." Michonne ran her hand over his curls and grinned.
"Who said I even wanted to wear it?," she said. "I can still say no." Rick laughed.
"I know, but I don't think you're going to refuse," he admitted. Michonne giggled.
"Oh, so you think you know me pretty well now, don't you?" she said. Rick charged towards her and kissed her playfully until he knew it tickled her skin and she laughed uncontrollably.
"I do," he drawled, nipping her belly with his teeth and making her shriek. "I bet I know what you want right this moment."
"And what's that?" she asked, breathless from her laughter, raising a brow as if she doubted that he did.
"Me," he replied and before she knew it, another angry and ardent lovemaking session began and it was sweeter than the last, but just as good as the first time and not as breathtaking as it would be tomorrow when they lost themselves in each other again.
•••
Song of Solomon
Chapter 1
She
5 I am very dark, but lovely,
O daughters of Jerusalem,
like the tents of Kedar,
like the curtains of Solomon.
6 Do not gaze at me because I am dark,
because the sun has looked upon me.
Chapter 2
She
3 As an apple tree among the trees of the forest,
so is my beloved among the young men.
With great delight I sat in his shadow,
and his fruit was sweet to my taste...
5 Sustain me with raisins;
refresh me with apples,
for I am sick with love.
6 His left hand is under my head,
and his right hand embraces me!...
He
14 "O my dove, in the clefts of the rock,
In the secret places of the cliff,
Let me see your face,
Let me hear your voice;
For your voice is sweet,
And your face is lovely."...
Chapter 7
She
4 Your neck is like an ivory tower,
Your eyes like the pools in Heshbon...
He
8 Let now your breasts be like clusters of the vine...
The fragrance of your breath like apples,
9 And the roof of your mouth like the best wine.
I am my beloved's and she is mine...
"Sounds just like us," Rick murmured in her ear as they read the bible together, the only book within reach on her nightstand to entertain the tired couple before they drifted off to sleep.
"Mmm. It does," she sighed, finally sated, her eyelids heavy and relaxation taking over her tired frame.
"You okay?" Rick asked, taking the bible from her and placing it on his nightstand. He lay beside her in the dark, his arm wrapped around her and she would never get over how safe she always felt pressed against him, with his heartbeat thumping against her spine.
"I'm just thinking... we haven't been exactly... careful with... You know." For once, she was at a loss for words, suddenly striken with worry at the wandering thought of her family; Maggie and her baby in particular.
"What if you are?" Rick asked quietly, already knowing what she was hinting at, trying and failing to hide the excitement in his voice.
"I don't know, Rick... not after Andr-" Her eyes filled with tears all over again and Rick pressed his lips to her ear as he consoled her.
"Hey. Hey," he whispered. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I know. I know." Her tears subsided as she pressed closer to him. She exhaled slowly.
"If I am, then I am. But you already have a baby, Rick."
"I know but." He waited for a long moment before he spoke again. "I told you about Lori... and about what happened with Shane. Judith isn't mine but... I love her anyway. I'd do anything for her." Michonne ran her hands over his arms as he pulled her tighter against his chest.
"I know," she whispered.
"So if you are, I can't say I'd mind. Might be happy," he confessed, yawning and pulling their comforter over their tangled limbs.
The pale moonlight cast a solitary beam into the bedroom and blessed her ring with light. She made her fingers dance and it winked at her again and again.
"Rick," Michonne whispered into the darkness, knowing by the pattern of his breathing that he'd fallen asleep but that even the slightest sound of her voice would wake him. He tightened his grip around her waist, pressing closer, inhaling her scent.
"Yeah?" he replied, moaning a little, groggy from his days work and their lovemaking marathon but not too tired to press a tender kiss to her bare shoulder. She scooted back, melding into him, basking in his heat and sighing. She could feel the steady drumming of his heartbeat against her back, constant and true, strong thumps and resilient blood pumping through his veins. She never wanted that heartbeat to stop.
"You said that if you died, you wanted me to know how much I meant to you, right?"
"Yes," Rick whispered. "The ring wouldn't be enough to express that though."
"Well, we don't die. You and I. We're the ones that survive. So just keep loving me the way you do, okay? I know how much I mean to you. I can see it in your eyes." She turned in his arms to face him and looked in those very eyes as she placed a gentle kiss on his parted lips. "And yes," she told him with sincerity. "The answer is yes."