This was a quickie written for We'reTheOnesWhoWrite based on the prompt- "Does being sneaky give you a thrill?"
"Hey." Rick said routinely as he kissed her rebel red lips and took the black duffle from her hand. It had been a rough night already and he still had six more hours of his shift to go. He figured he'd hit the punching bag in the weight room before he slipped up and crack a couple heads. "Thanks babe." He mumbled through another kiss as she lingered at his mouth.
He was sitting in the open area of the station bullpen. The Sheriff was on vacation and he was in charge until Gregory got back. A few other deputies milled about with files or coffee or detainees. Every one of them trying to seem too preoccupied to be eyeing Deputy Grimes' foxy new wife as hard as they were.
"Thanks babe? That's all I get for bringing you your gym bag all the way down to the station?"
Rick watched her hips rock as she glided on black stilettos with a sexy heel, toe strut. "Where are you goin' all dressed up?" He asked her as he noticed the flirty sun yellow number squeezing her curves into a precarious submission.
The pleated hem of her dress held tight to her thighs as she spun on the balls of her feet, accentuating her toned calves and hopped up on his generic brown desk. She spread her ample booty all over his mind-numbing paperwork and repeated his question, quirking her brow, "Where am I going?"
Rick felt a little heat spread out under his uniform collar. He hoped she didn't think she was going anywhere else in that get up, as late as it was. Rick looked around and met the eyes of Leon, who scurried off after a husband's cold gaze broke his bulls-eyed stare at the plump, round paperweight on Rick's desk. "Yeah. Where the hell are you goin' dressed like that."
"I came to bring you your things and collect a proper thank you. I thought my outfit would cheer you up…" she fluttered her long dark lashes over her smooth russet cheeks. She pouted her perfectly glossed lips, "But now I need an apology for your tone." She crossed one meaty thigh over the other, the new position showing off more of her soft sable skin. Resting on her palms, behind her, she shrugged her shoulders and the cleavage under her buttons grabbed her husband's attention. He stood there catching onto her game and he finally got his head right.
Rick spread his gorgeous pink kisser into an apologetic smile, dropping his head in guilt. "Sorry I snapped at you, baby. You know I hate working overnight." he said, stepping closer. "I appreciate it." Taking advantage of the suddenly deserted area he pulled her legs apart and stepped between the bare skin of her thighs. "You look amazin'." His lips and nose trailed across her sweet pea scented shoulder and he breathed deep and insistently. "You smell good too. I'm really… really sorry."
Michonne hopped down off his desk. "Make it up to me." She said pulling him along by his gunbelt. She led him through the aisles between the configuration of desks to the office of glass walls on the other side of the room. Rick pulled her back when they reached the threshold, staring at the name on the door with a smirk of amazement on his face.
"Okay. 'Chonne cut it out."
"What?" she asked innocently, pulling him inside the Sheriff's office as he took one more look around for prying eyes. "Have a seat." She instructed after closing the door and drawing the blinds. "That chair will be yours one day."
"Not if we get caught."
"I'll be quiet." She promised and was met with Rick's humorously doubtful face. Michonne shrugged and approached him with that same slinky walk, "Well this is the only place I'll let you make it up to me, Sheriff."
Rick cocked his head with that sexy slanted stance and unbuckled the thick leather holster on his hip and placed it slowly on the big cherrywood desk. "Why? Because bein' sneaky gets you off?"
Michonne's heart skipped a beat when she heard him state the fact. As open as she was to sex any time, any place, she was much more timid when it came to just telling her husband plainly what she liked and wanted, without the whole rigmarole she employed to hide her vulnerability. She willed away the emotion forming a lump in her throat to answer him with a shrug and a nonchalant, "Maybe."
He eased into the rolling chair in a wide-legged slouch, his lustful blue gaze fixed on her form. He had to admit, sitting in the boss' seat felt as homey as his worn-out jeans. He loved this about her. She always spoke to the leader inside him, always coaxing out his kingly nature. She could charm him into anything, like brazenly pulling out his stiffening cock in his superior's office and stroking the veiny muscle with a simple command, "Get over here."
