Starting us off down Fairy Tale lane is Afilmmefatale. Please enjoy her remix of Sleeping Beauty with our favorite couple.
If you have not already done so, please check out other work on her FF page.
-We're The Ones Who Write
Sleeping Beauty: Rick knows just the right moves to return Michonne to the land of the living.
"And they lived happily ever after." Rick knew most of the fairy tales by heart, but still enjoyed the routine of flipping through the glossy, colorful pages of the children's book.
He rose from his seat, stretching his arms and rubbing his sore neck. He'd been there a good four hours, well over his allotted shift. The nights Carl was with his mother, Rick spent with Michonne and Judith. He found more pleasure reading to them than sitting in front of the TV in an empty apartment. If he could spend every night of the week with the two of them, he would.
Although the hospital had a strict policy limiting volunteer shifts to one day a week, he'd used his Southern charm - and dozens of donuts - to convince the nurses to let him extend his time in the coma ward, first to three days a week, and eventually to five. He looked forward to his nights with this woman he had yet to have a conversation with.
"Until next week," he said into the mic. It was his only means of communicating through the thick pane of glass. He paused as though he expected a response. Michonne and Judith both lay motionless, the regular rise and fall of their chests the only movement in their bodies.
Michonne remained as still as she had for the past forty-three years; her expression blank, giving little indication of what she might be feeling. He often wondered what her dreams were like. Were they full of cotton candy buffets? Fire-breathing dragons? Maybe a mix of both.
Rick had been a volunteer at the Atlanta County Hospital for almost three years. He first encountered Michonne while completing a community service project with his co-workers. They were on a tour of the hospital when they stopped in the coma ward, affording Rick his first glance of Michonne in the flesh.
Given she was somewhat of a celebrity, he recognized her before spotting the name on her chart: Michonne Copeland. Their tour guide went on to tell them the story they'd all likely heard already, with all the news stories and documentaries that had been done on the attack. Michonne, and a ten-year-old girl named Judith, were the longest living survivors of the Fairy Dust attack, which had claimed the lives of more than three hundred people and put twenty others into comas. A mysterious silver dust had been pumped into the ventilation system of an apartment complex in Downtown Atlanta, during a record hot summer day. Most residents died instantaneously, while others expired on the way to the hospital. Twenty ended up in comas.
Over the years, the comatose survivors perished one by one, all due to heart failure from unknown circumstances. The only two remaining were Judith and Michonne, both quarantined at the hospital. When Rick had first seen them, they lay side-by-side, hooked up to feeding tubes. He'd been prepared for fragility, skeletal forms barely holding onto life. Instead, the young girl's brunette hair shone like polished wood, her rosy cheeks full of life.
And then there was Michonne.
Even in the throes of a ceaseless slumber, Rick thought Michonne was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes upon. Delicately plump lips set in a round face, long lashes, flawless skin - she'd been asleep for nearly half a century and hadn't aged a single day. That had been the hardest thing for Rick to wrap his mind around. He'd been a toddler when the attack had happened and yet she looked years younger than him. In that first encounter, his feelings morphed from admiration to infatuation to something near love, almost instantaneously.
In the blink of an eye, she had pulled him in, tugging at some invisible string tied to his cynical heart. Sleeping Beauty, he'd nicknamed her. He signed up that very day to become a permanent volunteer with the hospital, determined to spend as much time with Michonne as possible. And he'd been by her side ever since.
Rick was in the process of gathering his things when Judith suddenly shot up into a sitting position. His brain took a few seconds to catch up to what he was seeing. Judith was awake.
"Michonne," she croaked, her tiny voice not used to the effort of speech. "Michonne." This time it was more of a groan.
Rick spoke into the mic, trying to keep his voice calm. "You're okay, Judith. You're not alone."
She searched the room for the source of the voice and spotted Michonne beside her. She threw off her covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
"Stay where you are. Let me get a nurse," Rick said, afraid she might injure herself. It'd been nearly fifty years since she'd used her ten-year-old legs. She ignored him, sliding off the bed and colliding with the hard floor.
Rick pressed the call button, hoping a nurse would arrive soon. They were in a secluded part of the hospital, so it might take a few minutes at the least. "Judith, listen to me. You're in no condition to be out of bed."
She finally spotted him on the other side of the glass, her eyes pleading. "You have to help her."
Rick watched, helpless, as her small body collapsed to the floor. "Judith!" he yelled into the mic. She didn't stir.
He tapped the call button in quick succession. Besides the fact that their small room was locked and he didn't have the key, going in there without a protective suit would likely be the death of him. Michonne and Judith were separated from the general population of the hospital for good reason - all that had shared the same air with them, had fallen into comas themselves, before passing away of heart failure like the others. Unfortunately, that had been the fate of Judith's mother and father.
He grabbed the metal chair he'd been sitting on and slammed it against the glass. A small crack appeared where the leg of the chair connected with the hard surface. He repeated the move, the cracks spreading in the pattern of a web, radiating from the weakened center. Rick poured the last of his strength into a solid blow and the glass shattered, littering the ceramic tiles.
Rick ripped open a deep gash on his right hand scrambling through the window. He reached Judith, taking her into his arms. He shook her gently, calling her name. No response. He checked her pulse. It was weak, but it was there. He exhaled, though he knew she still wasn't in the clear.
Rick rose from the floor, holding on tight to Judith. He placed her back in the hospital bed. Looking around the room, he spotted a mask hooked up to an oxygen tank. Acting quickly, he placed the mask over Judith's nose and mouth and turned the valve. He held her little hand, hoping the oxygen would keep her alive long enough for the nurses to arrive.
He turned to Michonne. This was the closest he'd been to her. She was even more stunning up close. He reached out and caressed her cheek. It was as smooth as it looked. His hand drifted to the top of her head and he touched her hair gently, loving the soft texture. It was so different from his own loose curls. Her shoulder-length locs hadn't grown even a centimeter in almost fifty years, from what he'd been told.
He grabbed Michonne's warm hand, oddly warmer than his own, and intertwined their fingers. In less than a year he'd grown to love this woman who had no idea he existed. He wanted nothing more than to revel in the sound of his name on her lips; maybe even have the chance to kiss those lips.
Gradually, he began to feel lightheaded, swaying slightly. His arms felt like lead and his throat was closing in on itself. It became harder and harder to breathe. Just as his vision began to blur, he heard rustling. Through the haze of the blurriness, he could only tell that Judith's eyes were open and pointed in his general vicinity. The intensity of her gaze was more that of an adult than a child.
"Love," she whispered.
Rick's eyelids drooped and he had an overwhelming urge to sleep, sinking deep into a pitch black abyss.
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Less than a day since Judith had gone and Michonne's existence was already unbearable. The girl who she'd grown to love as her own daughter - whom she cared for and protected since this nightmare began - was lost to her forever.
Michonne was the last survivor on the island, with no means of returning home. She would die alone. Knowing Judith was alive, back at home where her family was waiting for her, was her only source of solace.
Michonne cracked open a crab leg, sucking out the meat as she watched the sun descend into the sea. The mix of blue, orange and purple was the same every time. The same sunset at dusk, at the same time, for almost a year. She sat in this same spot on the beach every night, looking for even the smallest of differences. And it was always the same.
Alone with her thoughts, she felt like the world was closing in on her. Everything she'd done to protect Judith, to keep the both of them alive, came rushing back. She had no regrets, but she also had no escape from the pain latched onto the memories.
As the last of the sun disappeared below the horizon, Michonne squinted at a dark figure emerging from the sea. What she assumed was a trick of light, looked to be an actual person. She stood to get a better view, making her way toward the water.
From this distance, the shadow appeared to be a man, guessing from the straight lines of his body and muscular thighs. Water splashed around her legs as she left the safety of the beach. She slipped the makeshift knife from the holster at her side - a sharpened shard of coconut shell - ready to dispose of this man if necessary.
He stopped, only a few feet away. The waves licked at his lean hips. He was naked, like they all had been when they first appeared on the island, though the water hid everything below the V in his waistline.
In the waning light, she could barely make out the confused expression in his eyes. Maybe confused wasn't the right word. It was more like he'd just seen a ghost. Water dripped from his short curls onto his shoulders and down his muscled chest. He was lean but fit and couldn't be more than a few inches taller than her.
"Michonne," he said with wonder.
He closed the distance between them with impressive speed, catching her off guard and suddenly sweeping her up in his arms. In just a bikini, Michonne could feel every inch of his hard, wet body pressed against hers. She grabbed his shoulders to hold herself steady.
He pressed his lips into the crook of her neck. "I thought I'd never see you again."
The only thing stopping her from plunging her knife into his neck was the sound of his voice. This stranger who felt he had the right to touch her, had a face that was completely unknown to her but a voice that gave her comfort. Something in his tone gave her pause before reacting.
Michonne pressed against his chest and he released her, only to swiftly cradle her face and press his lips to hers. The kiss was so hot that she was sure steam was hissing from her pores.
Even more phenomenal than the kiss, however, was her reaction. She melded against his body, their tongues in a sensual tango. His full lips enraptured her own, sucking on her bottom lip with ferocity. The sensation of something hard poking into her belly made her realize she was making out with a naked man. She pushed him away.
Michonne took several steps back, panting from the shock of it all. She pointed her makeshift weapon at him, struggling to keep her eyes from dipping below his waist. "Who are you?" she asked, her words laced with menace.
He held up his hands in surrender. "Rick."
She squinted at him. Even his name was familiar. Keeping her weapon pointed in his direction, she asked, "How did you get here?"
"Judith."
Her heart stopped. She was definitely going to have to kill him. "What do you know about Judith?"
"She's alive. She woke up." He took a step forward.
Michonne ignored the "Kill! Kill! Kill!" alarm going off in her head. "Don't come any closer." Against her will, she noticed the trail of hair leading down between his defined abs and to… She looked anywhere but at him, doing the best to ignore the desire welling up inside of her. Her mind clear, she finally processed what he'd said. "What do you mean Judith woke up?"
His glance was concerned, but lacked pity. "Where I'm from, you and Judith are in comas. She woke up right before I arrived here." He looked around, at the ocean surrounding them and the island in front of them. "Which is where exactly?"
She silently exhaled at discovering that Judith was alive. Something in her gut made her believe him. "You're nowhere," she said in response to his question. It was the best she'd been able to come up with these past ten or so months. There was only the island and the ocean. More than a handful of them had died in the pursuit of more. Others had been driven mad when they'd come to terms with the dire reality of their situation.
She felt the first drop of rain, before the downpour started. If he remained in the cold rain without a stitch of clothing, he'd be in bad shape in the morning.
Michonne lowered her weapon and turned her back on him. "You can't stay out here." She moved back up the beach, looking over her shoulder to see that he followed, getting an eyeful of his hard, dripping wet body sprinkled with hair. She whipped her head forward. Her cheeks blazed with heat and something stirred within her that had long been dormant.
"Thank you," he said from behind her. He was a lot closer than she'd realized. She could sense his heat. His accent reminded her of the kind people she'd met in the small towns of Georgia while earning her art degree.
They made it to her spot on the beach. She grabbed her beach towel and tossed it his way.
He came to stand beside her, the towel wrapped low on his hips, his eyes on her.
"What?" she said a bit forcefully, annoyed by how his closeness both unsettled and excited her. She became aware of the yellow bikini she was wearing, which she hadn't given a second thought until his sudden arrival. She almost moved to shield herself from his eyes, but didn't want to let on how he affected her.
"Nothing," he said, averting his eyes and looking around. He nodded in the direction of the beach house a few yards from them. "Is that where you live?"
She only nodded, heading in that direction.
"It's nice."
"It's home."
She'd fought hard to take possession of the place she and Judith had called home. It had been one of the few places on the island with both running water and electricity. And it was the only place with locks on the door, which had saved their lives more than once. And now she was allowing a complete stranger into the safety of her abode without a second thought. Loneliness must be clouding her judgment.
Michonne brushed the sand from her bare feet before stepping inside. It was a modest studio, with a small kitchen, two full-size beds and a bathroom. Besides the beds and a small dining table with chairs, it was pretty sparse. Her eyes drifted to the incomplete shell necklace Judith had been making. She had disappeared before she could finish it.
"I still don't understand where we are," Rick said. "What is this place?"
"Your guess is as good as mine." Michonne grabbed a t-shirt from the back of the chair and a pair of swimming trunks she thought would fit him. She handed him the clothes. "Unless you want to wear a bikini, these will have to do."
"Thank you, Michonne." He accepted the clothes, his fingers lightly brushing hers. His touch reminded her that they were the only two people on this island.
"How do you know my name?"
He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was with you back in the…real world. I volunteer at the hospital where you and Judith are patients."
Michonne grabbed his forearm. "You said she woke up. But is she safe?"
Rick put his hand over hers. "Yes, she's fine, I'm sure of it. By this time, the nurses should be tending to her. And me, now that I think about it."
Things were finally making sense. The last memory she had was of being in her apartment, on the phone with her mother, when a silver dust spewed out of the ventilation system. She lost consciousness minutes later. The next thing she knew, she was on a desert island with nineteen other people, one of them the ten-year-old girl who lived a few doors down from her.
"And you're a volunteer, not a nurse?"
He coughed out a laugh. "No."
Michonne squinted her eyes at him. "My dad was a nurse. And he was one of the best people I know."
He caught himself. "Not that there's anything wrong with male nurses. I'm just not one of them. Mostly, I read to you and Judith."
That might explain why she recognized his voice. Even she couldn't deny that the thought of him sitting there, reading to her and Judith, endeared her to him. Just a bit. "So, Judith woke up from her coma?" She was repeating the same question, but she had to be certain.
"Yes, Michonne." He was even more handsome when he smiled, the crow's feet in the corners of his eyes softening his face.
All that mattered was that Judith was alive. Michonne needed some time to process all this. She had resigned herself to being alone and now this mystery man had strolled onto shore, with his chiseled body and sexy Southern accent, claiming to have helped the only person she still cared about in this dog-eat-dog world.
And she had absolutely no clue what to do with him.
"There's a shower in the bathroom. Don't use up all the hot water," she said, not daring to look him in those baby blue eyes.
Before he could respond she was shutting the patio door behind her. She leaned her back against the door and exhaled. The last thing she heard was him starting the shower as she headed for the beach, her body tingling with some new emotion.
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"You found yourself in the middle of nowhere?" Rick licked the crab juice from each of his fingers. He noticed Michonne's gaze focused on his lips before she looked him in the eyes. He smiled to himself. Maybe there was more hope for him than he'd initially thought.
"There were twenty of us on an island and no one had any idea of how we got there." She bit into a mango, the juice clinging to those lips he'd only admired from afar. He resisted the urge to lean forward and take a lick. "I recognized Judith and a few others from my apartment complex. So we figured that had to be the connection."
Rick nodded. "The complex where you lived was the site of some kind of attack. The dust you were exposed to killed almost everyone that came in contact with it, except for twenty of you who went into comas. That was forty-three years ago."
"Forty-three years…" That part seemed to be hitting her especially hard. "That means a week here is roughly a year in your time."
"It seems that way. Maybe that's why you haven't aged. Your mind and body are somehow tied to this place."
Michonne's concern was understandably elsewhere. "That means my mom…"
Rick spoke with care. "She lived well into old age,, but passed away almost twenty years ago."
He'd met Michonne's younger sister on several occasions. She came by whenever she could find the time, which was usually once a month. He'd been told by the nurses that she kept the same schedule for the entire time Michonne was in the hospital. She herself was in her seventies now, but she talked about Michonne as though she were still the older sister. Rick had taken the opportunity to learn as much as possible about Michonne, to fill those gaps in his imagination. Where did she go to college? Spelman. What was her favorite food? Hot dogs. Was she seeing anyone before the attack? No.
"Your sister comes to visit you on a regular basis. Along with her oldest son, Andre, and her grandchild."
Michonne chuckled. "Cherry is a mom? A grandmother, even. She swore she would never have kids and then steals the name I planned to give my firstborn son."
"She's how I learned about your mom. And a few other little things."
She raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
He laughed. "Nothing really. Just how you graduated law school at the top of your class and beat up your sister's seventh grade bully."
"That little princess had it coming." Michonne cracked a smile for the first time since they'd encountered each other on the beach.
Rick couldn't help but smile in return, struck by how the gesture lit up her entire face. The suspicion and caution she exuded melted away with that smile. Meeting the real Michonne and learning all the nuances in her mannerisms - like how she tilted her head when she was listening - had only increased his feelings for her. He knew he was in love with her, without a doubt. The fact that she thought of him as a stranger was an obstacle he was more than willing to work around. On the beach, she'd kissed him back, which had to mean something. Not knowing how much time they might have together, he was more determined than ever to win her over.
Michonne broke into his thoughts. "And they still don't know the source of the attack?"
"Nope. A few groups tried to take credit, but were ruled out early on. They have yet to even identify the dust." Rick cut another slice of mango and handed Michonne the wedge. She accepted the fruit without hesitation. He continued, "Weirder than that, though, is the comatose people who started dying off, all from heart failure. You and Judith were the only ones unaffected."
Something like guilt cascaded across her elegant features. He let the silence linger between them, not wanting to press her. After a few minutes more of silence, she finally spoke.
"When we first arrived, it took us days to even realize we all lived in the same apartment building. And then someone suggested we'd all died in a fire and that this was the afterlife. Most accepted that line of reasoning, since we had everything we needed on the island to meet our basic needs - homes for shelter, a self-replenishing stock of food and water, even clothes. I never quite believed it, as most people's last memories were of feeling the urge to sleep and losing consciousness, not of some fire."
Rick handed her another slice of mango, but she declined. "It only took a month for the real danger to appear. A man named Phillip, who lived two floors below me, convinced a few of the other men that their only chance of getting off the island was to be the last man standing. They attacked in the middle of the night, while we were sleeping. They massacred half of our group in less than an hour. Luckily, I was able to grab Judith and flee into the jungle area of the island. There was no way I was letting any of those men anywhere near Judith."
Rick wanted to hold her, to take away the pain that stretched her thin. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
Michonne just shrugged in return, looking away from him. "It was probably the cause of the heart failure, dying here means you die in real life."
"That sounds right. I think the first deaths occurred around four years after the attack, all in quick succession."
Michonne shook her head. "I wish I could have saved more of them, but Phillip and his men had made weapons in secret. We were no match for them. They claimed the beach for themselves. Judith and I hid out, but I knew our safety would be short-lived if I didn't take Phillip out before he got to us."
"And so you fought." He became more impressed - and infatuated - with her by the minute.
Michonne nodded curtly. "I knew the jungle better than they did and used it to my advantage. It took a few months, but I took out every last one of them, including Phillip."
"I'm sorry, Michonne." He hated to imagine her facing off with armed cowards.
"I did what I had to do to keep the both of us alive. I don't regret any of it."
Rick noticed a tear pooling at the corner of her eye. "You chose life over death. No one can ever fault you for that." Though the existence of this world had been hard to wrap his mind around, he'd come to accept it. There was one question, however, that he couldn't answer on his own. "So how was Judith able to return to the real world alive?"
"Even I can't answer that." She swiped at a stray tear. "After all was said and done, we were the last ones left alive on the island. We managed to make a comfortable home and keep ourselves occupied, but I could tell she missed her family. I loved Judith like she was my own daughter, but I couldn't stand to see her hide her depression behind fake smiles. I vowed to do all I could to return her home - even if it meant giving my own life. And the next morning I woke up to find she'd disappeared without a trace. I could only hope that meant she'd made it back."
"It sounds like you may have been more involved than you think." He thought back to Judith's last word to him. Love.
"Either way, if you hadn't shown up, I still wouldn't know what had become of her. Thank you."
"I'd do anything for you, Michonne. You don't have to thank me."
Rick held her gaze, neither of them looking away. He'd come all this way, he might as well take a chance. He leaned forward, hoping she would mirror his movements. Instead of meeting him halfway, however, she remained still, leaning back at the last moment.
Michonne moved clear across the room, soaking a mile a minute. "We should get some sleep. I'll take Judith's bed."
And with those words, she pulled a curtain that divided the room into two, separating him from the object of his affection. He inwardly kicked himself for moving too fast. He'd been in love with the fantasy of her for so long, that the flesh and blood person in front of him made him want to charge forward without thinking twice.
As far as he knew, they could have mere hours or an eternity together. He either had all the time in the world to convince her or almost none at all.
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Michonne almost felt bad shaking a snoring Rick awake.
"Mmm," he moaned. In the light of the moon, she could tell his eyes remained closed.
"I can't sleep," Michonne whispered, slipping into bed beside him. That got his attention. His eyes flipped open. "Tell me a story. Like you used to."
Lying in Judith's bed, the quiet had gotten to her. She realized it was her first night without the chatty girl around. She had been her rock for so long, the one thing in her life that kept her grounded and focused on what was right in front of her. Now she had nothing to care for and no reason to exist really. The only thing that brought her comfort and some sense of calm were the dreamlike memories of Rick's voice, soothing and kind.
Now, she was in search of a different kind of comfort.
"If you don't mind a fairytale, I know all of them by heart." He stifled a yawn.
"Sleeping Beauty." She always imagined the man behind the voice as a prince whose kiss could wake her from this nightmare of an existence. And now maybe he was here, lying beside her. Rick chuckled to himself.
"What?" she asked, not thinking there was anything particularly silly about that choice.
"That was my nickname for you. Sleeping Beauty. But now that you're awake…"
"Just tell me the story already." Michonne smiled to herself. He'd thought she was beautiful while in a coma? She could just imagine how plain and unappealing her real body must look. And yet this man thought she was beautiful just as she was.
Rick began to recite the story, giving her a strong sense of déjà vu. The resonant timber of his voice, the words he emphasized, the slight change in his cadence when he switched characters - it was all as she remembered. She nudged closer to him, throwing her arm across his bare chest. The vibrations as he spoke reverberated in her own body.
Although this was their first time meeting, she knew this man more intimately than some of her own family members. She recalled stories he would tell her about his own life, about the challenges with his ex-wife and teenage son, how he felt he'd failed as a husband and father. She even remembered a sappy love poem he'd written and recited for her.
"And they lived happily ever after," Rick said in conclusion. He turned his head to look her in the eyes. "Were you even listening?"
"The rose is red, the violet's blue. As beauty sleeps, I long for you." Michonne repeated the words she'd heard more than once.
Rick's face turned scarlet red. "You could hear me?"
Michonne nodded. "I didn't remember until now."
Rick looked up at the ceiling, running his fingers through his curls. "Ok…uhm…so while Judith was away, I may have said something about wanting to-"
She pressed a finger to his lips. "Yep, I heard every last word."
"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "Look, Michonne. I don't want you to think I don't respect you. I was just trying something I thought might grab your attention enough to wake you up. I'm really not a dirty old man."
"From what you've told me, I'm way older than you." She threw her thigh over his, heat building in her core. "Is the offer still open?"
His body tensed. He looked her way again, his clear blue eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "Are you serious?"
"You're not going to make a girl ask twice, are-"
His mouth devoured her words. The passion behind his kiss filled her body with a new energy; chasing away the death that had settled deep into her bones and replacing it with the warmth of life. He rolled on top of her, settling between her thighs.
"Michonne," he moaned into her mouth. He propelled his hips forward, his hardness pressing against her bare pussy. She wore no underwear beneath her thin nightgown. "I can't believe this is happening."
She entangled her tongue with his, wanting to silence him more than anything. He'd done enough talking.
Rick pulled down the strap of her nightgown, exposing her chest. He cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her straining nipple. His tongue replaced his thumb, moistening the sensitive pebble.
Michonne arched her back and he responded by engulfing her breast with his mouth, his tongue twirling around her nipple. She rocked her hips, her clit making contact with his hard shaft still trapped behind his boxer briefs. He switched sides, sucking and lapping at her other breast like it was a melting ice cream cone.
She wanted to feel him. Her hand followed the trail of hair between his abs, slipping past the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs. He released her breast, grunting when she wrapped her hand around his hard cock. She slid her hand up and down his hot shaft.
"That feels good," he breathed, timing the pumping of his hips with the movement of her hand.
He kissed her deeply, fondling her breasts while she continued with the long, slow strokes. The weight of his body atop hers made her feel like she was tucked away in a steamy cocoon of pleasure.
His fingers found her pussy, gliding between her folds to uncover the tiny yet sensational bud that threatened to torment her if she didn't get release soon.
"Damn. I make you this wet?" He slipped a finger into her channel and she submitted to his touch.
"Rick!" she cried out.
"That's right, Michonne. Say my name."
"Rick," she whimpered as he added another finger.
He angled his fingers as he pumped in and out of her slick pussy. "Don't hold back."
She groaned, wanting to come more than anything, but afraid of how she might feel if she did.
Rick moved quickly, slipping down between her thighs, lifting her knees and spreading her legs apart. His tongue massaged her clit with precision. Michonne placed her hands on the sides of his head, holding him in place while she rubbed against his stiff tongue. He trapped her clit with his lips, sucking and slurping with abandon.
Michonne finally surrendered to him, her orgasm almost knocking the wind out of her. She couldn't remember ever coming this hard. He slipped two fingers back into her channel, making her come a second time, spots dancing across her vision.
"Shit, shit, shit," was all she could manage as her hips jerked involuntarily.
Rick moved back up her body. "Do you know how hard it was for me to not come just now?"
Michonne kissed him, exhausted but thoroughly satiated. "How hard?"
"Let me show you." The tip of his rock hard cock pressed against her opening.
"Fuck me, Rick."
Her words were all the encouragement he needed. Rick slipped in, his dick stretching her tight snatch.
"Shit," he breathed as he bottomed out. He paused for only a second before spreading her legs wider and thrusting into her.
Michonne held onto his shoulders as he pumped in and out of her, fucking her hard and fast. There was nothing gentle about it and he was driving her mad. The headboard slammed against the wall with each of his thrusts. He bent down, capturing one of her nipples between his lips.
"Oh no you don't," Michonne countered, knowing she would come again if he continued. She rolled him onto his back, grinding her pussy back and forth on his dick.
"You're so beautiful." He looked up at her with so much love she couldn't look away. He reached up, taking a breast in each hand, and giving each a squeeze for good measure.
She slammed down on his dick, almost wanting to punish him for making her feel a confusing swirl of emotions.
"I'm gonna come," he panted, thrusting his hips up to meet hers. She rode him harder and faster, her own climax just on the precipice.
"I love you," he shouted as his hot cum spurted into her.
Michonne clamped down on his dick, this last time even more intense than the first two. She collapsed onto him. "Me too," she whispered, the words escaping her lips of their own accord.
Rick wrapped his arms around her, covering the both of them with the light comforter. He rubbed her back. "Sleep well, my beauty."
Michonne sighed as she let sleep take her.
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Rick wrinkled his nose at a sudden itching sensation. And then he sneezed, waking him up for good.
The tinkle of Michonne's laughter filled his ears. "It's about time, Sleepyhead. It's nearly dusk."
He felt a soft hand caress his cheek and knew it was Michonne. He slowly opened his eyes, the overhead fluorescent lights temporarily blinding him.
"Is he awake?" a girl's voice asked.
Rick looked over to find Michonne and Judith sitting on the side of his hospital bed. But they weren't in the quarantined room. They were in a private hospital room.
"Where are we?" Rick asked, sitting up in bed and examining his surroundings. There were two hospital beds and a small cot set up in the room. Along with plenty of flowers and balloons on nearly every available surface.
"In the hospital, silly," Michonne said, smoothing a hand through his curls.
"But why aren't we in quarantine?" Rick asked, even more confused.
"Apparently, when we returned, the effects of the coma completely disappeared, including the mysterious element that made us toxic."
"How long have we been back?" He grabbed her hand, not wanting another second to go by without touching her.
"We returned over a day ago, but you've been sleeping for most of that time."
"You snore," Judith chimed in, giving him a disgusted look.
"But how did we come back? I don't remember anything after falling asleep in bed together."
"Beats me," Michonne shrugged. "All I know is we're off that horrid island. And I'm reunited with this little terror."
She trapped Judith with her arm and rubbed her knuckles playfully across the top of her head.
"Mercy, Mom," Judith giggled.
Rick smiled. "I guess we.." his eyes flitted in Judith's direction, "...wished ourselves back to life."
Michonne's sexy laugh put him on edge, in a good way. "We'll have to do a lot more 'wishing' when we get home."
Judith looked between the two of them while fixing her disheveled hair. "Are you guys talking about kissing? Gross."
"Hush, this is grown folks' talk." She leaned forward and kissed Rick. "And we've got a lot of catching up to do."
Rick beamed, looking forward to all the happily ever after to come.