"Alright, go," Rick groused, rolling off of her. He watched as she leisurely got out of bed, gracefully stretching in all her glory, then walking into the bathroom for a morning shower. Rick sighed low in his throat, both stunned and turned on at the natural beauty his lover possessed. Quickly rising to his feet, he muttered to himself, "She can be a little late," and headed to the bathroom.
Michonne closed her eyes in pleasure as the warm sprays of water hit her face and body. She startled at the feel of a cool breeze, and turned to see that Rick had slid open the glass door.
"Rick," she said in an admonishing tone she didn't mean, amplified by the fact she stepped aside, letting him enter.
"What?" he asked with his trademark smile. "Figured we could multitask. Save water…stuff like that."
"Right. I have a feeling my shower alone would be shorter," she replied, voice low.
"Maybe," he said, voice even lower, nimble fingers caressing her wet torso. "But wouldn't be as much fun."
Eyes locked on hers, he let one hand caress down her belly, over her pubic bone, and dip in between her folds. Michonne's eyes grew heavy at the intimate contact. She was already wet for him—had been since she left the bedroom. She gave a secretive smile as she realized she was always ready for him.
"What're you smiling at?" he asked, though he was smiling, too.
"You," she said simply, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, shifting her left leg, allowing him to go deeper. She hissed as he rubbed her, just how she liked it. It was strange in a way, how quickly they learned what the other liked, and discovering new things altogether. They were both eager to please, and that was a good thing—the best thing.
Rick was her equal in every sense.
She arched back, gripping him tighter. She was close. Her eyes sought his then, giving him the look he'd come to understand as "now." Mouth agape, he nodded, lifting her up, impaling her, making them both moan from the contact.
"Michonne," he murmured, before kissing her deeply, firmly massaging her ass with every gentle thrust.
She tangled her fingers in his damp locks, lifting upward, and locking her ankles behind him. He broke the kiss, opting to nibble at her neck. He knew that she was ever so sensitive there, especially with his overgrown stubble. A surprise, throaty moan escaped her lips at the contact. Rick quickened his pace.
"Yeah?" he asked her.
Michonne nodded wordlessly.
"Say it," he commanded, voice just above a whisper as he went back to coaxing her clit in rhythm with his thrusts.
"Yes!" she answered, voice low, but fierce.
His mouth sought hers once again. She was close, but he was closer. She was the one person who could both bring him straight to reason, and make him lose all control.
He whimpered into her mouth as he felt himself come undone. A few jerky thrusts later, and it was over.
Rick held her close, leaning his forehead against hers. "You didn't finish," he stated more than asked.
Michonne gave him a tender kiss as a response.
"It's okay—there's still time," Rick said, grabbing the bottle of shampoo.
"Rick—"
"Here, take this," he said, handing it to her. "You can take care of my hair while I take care of you," he said, a twinkle in his eyes as he sunk to his knees. "See? Multitasking."