A/N: This chapter is crazy long, so I just want to thank you all so much for your support. It's 90% of the reason I was able to get this done in a reasonable amount of time, lol. (The other 10% is I just love this story so much!) So thank you, I love you, and I reeeeally hope you enjoy. Also, all the love in the world to my Tumblr anon who recommended the song in this chapter. You're like my music curator for this story, lmao. Okay, I'm gone! -Ash
Chapter 8
Tip of My Tongue
"Dad, I need you to settle this argument I'm having with Enid."
"Okay," Rick chuckled, anticipating the question. His gaze instinctively wandered to the table a few feet away where Carl's best friend sat with her parents, enjoying the First Day breakfast, same as he and Carl. "Should we at least wait until Enid can argue her side?"
"No, I'm gonna tell you her side," he explained, his face already lit up with excitement. "She thinks it's unfair to say that Iron Man is stronger than Spider-Man because Tony Stark has a suit and Peter Parker doesn't."
Rick nodded, his eyes narrowing as he tried to process her point of view. He even stroked his chin for good measure, emphasizing that he was taking this seriously. "Okay, and what's your side?"
"My side is that Spider-Man also had a spider bite to make him strong and that's the same as having a suit. We have to judge them by their super powers, whatever they might be."
"I see," he nodded again. He had to stop himself from laughing at how passionately his son was arguing this. "But maybe there's a case to be made about the fact that Spider-Man's abilities can't be taken away from him? If something happens to Tony's suit, is he still stronger than Peter?"
Carl stared at his dad with those identical eyes, then took a big bite of his pancake before answering. "Maybe," he granted, albeit begrudgingly. "But after Civil War, I don't think Tony would ever be without his suit. And even if he was, he's still really smart. So he would figure a way out."
"So then maybe you're right," Rick said.
"I think so," Carl said, "but you know how Enid is. I think she'd argue with me if I said the sky was blue."
Rick smiled because it was true – those two argued like an old married couple. "Nothin' wrong with a little healthy debate," he smirked, watching his kid scarf down another half of his pancake in one bite. "What are you gonna do without her in the same class this year?"
"Probably get better grades," he said sarcastically.
He nearly spit out his coffee laughing at the unexpected quip. His kid really was too smart for his own good sometimes. "You're silly," he grinned.
Carl opened his mouth to respond, but before words could come out, he spotted his mother enter the cafeteria with Shane, and he let out a small gasp instead. "It's Mom," he exclaimed.
Rick was oblivious and hoped he'd just missed something in the conversation, but when he turned toward the double-door entrance, indeed Lori and her boyfriend were headed for their table, dressed more for church than work. He let out a heavy sigh, bracing himself for the interaction.
"Hi, hi," Lori greeted the duo, waving, with a bright smile to match her tone, as if she were supposed to be there. She leaned in to give Carl a kiss on the cheek before wiping away her dark pink lip gloss. "How are you?"
"Hey, man," Shane said to Rick before looking to Carl. "Hey, little man."
"Hey, Shane," Carl waved back. "I didn't know you guys were coming."
"Well I wouldn't miss your first day of school," Lori chuckled, sliding into the seat beside Rick; leaving Shane to sit next to their son.
Rick's entire body tensed as the situation unfolded, feeling like he was in some bad dream – this closely related to a recurring nightmare he had, in fact. This was his day with his son. He and Lori hadn't discussed her coming to the breakfast, and even if that didn't warrant a conversation – because he did understand her not wanting to miss a first day – there was certainly no conversation about bringing Shane. Probably because Lori knew that he would say no. Or at least, if she ever took time to think about anyone but herself, she would've known that. "Well we were just finishing up," he said, clearing his throat. He usually had to tell Carl to slow down with his food, but in that moment, Rick was relieved he ate so quickly.
"Oh." Lori looked at their nearly emptied plates, disappointed. "Well that's my fault. I thought it started at eight."
"I knew that sounded too late," Shane chuckled, shaking his head. "I told her, 'Doesn't class start at 8:20, Lori?' But she swore up and down I was wrong."
"Mom only picks me up on Fridays, so it makes sense she forgot," Carl reminded the table.
"I just thought they were pushing back the start time for this," she defended herself. "7:30 is so early."
"Most parents have to go to work," Rick submitted, his tone dry and his voice hoarse. He wanted to leave. Literally get up from the table mid-sentence. "They tried to make it convenient for everyone."
"Well…" Lori sighed. "At least we made it in time to see you off to class."
Carl smiled at his mother. He was still getting used to the idea of his parents being apart, and he was glad – relieved, really – that they still came together when it had something to do with him, at least. Maybe they wouldn't live in the same house, but they would both be at his karate matches and science presentations. That meant a lot to him. "I'm glad you came," he nodded. "You too, Shane."
"Glad to be here, man," Shane winked at him.
"You're not gonna eat any more?" Lori asked Rick, noting the half a pancake left on his plate. Knowing the school and seeing how many people were there, she figured he didn't get much in the first place.
"I'm good." His mind immediately drifted to Michonne, wondering what she was doing at the moment. They tended to share a quick breakfast in the morning before she snuck away for the day.
Lori took it upon herself to slide Rick's plate over, finishing his unfinished meal. "So tell us, what are you most excited for today?" she asked Carl. She was gazing at him intently, as if she might forget his face.
Carl took a moment to think about it even though he already knew his answer. "Definitely lunch."
The table laughed, but they all knew that wasn't true. "Be serious," Lori encouraged him. "It's the first day of school. You have lunch every day. Surely you're happy to be here for a reason."
"I am looking forward to art," Carl admitted with a shrug. "But I dunno if we have that today."
"Like father like son," she remarked to Shane. She'd told him before how talented Rick was with his creations. They were works of art, truly.
"Very nice," Shane nodded at the kid in approval. "I was terrible in school. I mainly excelled in P.E."
Carl and Lori laughed, but Rick was getting more perturbed by the second, having to sit there and act like they were one big, happy family. He was glad that other tables had begun to clear and they had an excuse to get the hell out of there. "We should probably get you to class, huh?" he said it to Carl, but it was more for the table's other occupants.
"Oh, yeah," Carl realized. "We heard Ms. Abrams doesn't do assigned seats, so I wanna get a good one."
"Oh, well then we won't keep you," Lori said. As she slid out from her seat, she made sure to take the rest of Rick's pancake to go. Once Carl was up, she gave his outfit a once-over, checking that his light blue shirt and khakis were properly ironed and tucked in, per school rules. He wore a dark brown pair of boat shoes that made him look much more dapper than she was used to. It had always been a fight to get him out of his dirty sneakers. "Whoa, where did those come from?" she asked, clearly impressed.
"Those are nice, man," Shane agreed.
Carl grinned proudly, feeling like he'd gotten a seal of approval. "Dad got 'em for me."
Lori turned back to Rick with mild surprise in her expression. "When did you get taste?" she joked.
He wanted to ignore her comment – funny enough, he didn't mind Michonne's ribbing, even kind of enjoyed it sometimes, but when Lori did it, he was just annoyed – but he shrugged instead. "I just thought they looked nice."
The foursome continued into the main part of the school, accompanying Carl to his new class for the next nine months. Lori took the space next to the kid, leaving Rick and Shane to head down the crowded halls side-by-side. They said their goodbyes and exchanged their hugs and offered Carl their best wishes before leaving him socializing with his friends. Once they navigated their way back to the parking lot, Rick wanted nothing more than to get away from Lori and Shane, going on his merry way until it was time to pick up the boy at 3:00. But he remembered what Michonne said about keeping his feelings bottled up, and so, he couldn't leave without speaking on this.
"Lori, can I talk to you for a minute," he requested before the happy couple could get too far away.
She turned back to him, but gave Shane a long look, as if she needed to clear it with him, before obliging. "Sure," she said.
He nodded and then waited until her boyfriend was out of earshot before speaking. "You can't do stuff like this," he said as calmly as he could. "Showing up unannounced and with him?"
"Oh come on, Rick. It's the first day of school."
"And it's my day," he reminded her. "Which means I get to decide whether I want you around. It certainly means I get to decide whether I want him around."
"Are you serious?"
"Are you?" he shot back. "You're with him. I get it. But he's not my family, and I don't wanna see him every time I turn around."
"He's trying to be proactive."
"He's being overactive," Rick said. "I've worked with you all summer long, and especially these last few weeks, where you two overstepped your boundaries on more than one occasion. So I need you to take me seriously or we can start talking to lawyers again. There was no reason he needed to be here."
Lori nodded, recognizing that she hadn't been the most considerate person in this whole thing. She was so unused to the idea of not seeing her son every day, she was probably overcompensating with Shane, trying to recreate this two-parent household that didn't really exist. "I know this dynamic is strange," she acknowledged. "It's weird for all of us, and I'm still trying to strike that balance. Especially with Shane. He likes Carl so much, and I think he just wants to make sure we all know it."
"I think we get the point," Rick noted.
"You can't really mad about that?"
Of course he wasn't. He wished he could be, but given how much he ached for Michonne to even want to hear about Carl, it felt like a lie to even pretend that bothered him. "I'm not."
"And I'm sure part of it, for you, is feeling like you're being pushed out. Especially because you don't have anyone right now. And I should be more mindful of that."
This time, he rolled his eyes. She was so pompous sometimes. As if finding someone new was some grand accomplishment. "All right," he sighed. "Just be more considerate of my time with my son. And tell your boyfriend to give us some space."
"I will," she promised. She watched him nod and turn to walk away, but before he could take more than a couple of steps, she called after him. "Hey, Rick?"
"Yeah?" he turned back to her.
"Have you thought about moving on?" she asked, her voice gentle and cautious. "'Cause I mean there were quite a few women looking for you at open house last week."
He chuckled through his nose, lacking any sort of substantive response to that. "I'm all right," he assured her.
"Rick, you have to have a life outside of Carl," she said. "You need someone for you."
Rick couldn't believe she was trying to give him love advice. "I'm good," he repeated. He knew Lori well enough to know that she probably didn't really want him to move on; she just wanted to absolve herself of her guilt. And at the same time, she'd likely feel slighted whenever he did find someone. He didn't need to open up that can of worms, certainly not when he and Michonne's ill-defined situationship was all he had to speak of. Of course, that didn't stop him smirking as he turned to leave.
It had been a week with Rick gone, and Michonne found herself thriving up in the mountains on her own. Luckily, she had a class to prepare for, so she'd spent much of her time writing up her syllabus and lecture plans. She had 23 students signed up for her course so far, which was exciting – when her course was approved, she told herself that a class of 20 would be a success, so exceeding that goal had her feeling herself. Now, she just needed them not to drop the class once she was face-to-face with said students.
She'd gone over to the school on Friday to view her actual classroom, which was adequate. She would share an office with another adjunct professor, Dr. Monroe, whom she'd yet to meet, but upon inspection of the space, found that he kept a pair of birkenstocks in one of the desk drawers, which told her enough. Despite it, she looked forward to the first day.
Beyond that, she was even getting used to her general existence in Tennessee. On her way back from UT, she stocked up on produce at a Whole Foods near Knoxville, so she'd been eating good all week long. She still went to Food City for her unhealthy snacks though, and even managed a 20-minute conversation with Carol without wanting to rip her eyelashes off. She accidentally found out that Carol was a doula in her spare time, specializing in postpartum work, which unnerved Michonne more than she wanted to admit – was that why she'd taken such an interest in her? Was she psychic too? But admittedly, it was nice to know someone in that town other than Rick. She even considered joining her on Saturday night for a drink at that tacky bar, but thought better of it. She still had her limits, and trying to do too much too soon would probably backfire.
Instead, she spent the evening with Netflix, her favorite episodes of The Office keeping her company while she tried to make herself pizza. It didn't go well, but the effort was a good enough way to pass the time. Rick texted late that night, and they had a brief back-and-forth, mostly about Carl's old teacher asking him on a date, which amused Michonne as much as it annoyed her. And she could admit that her irritation was propelled by the fact that she couldn't stop thinking about what Rick said – how he was "good" at eating pussy, and the idea that he was eagerly anticipating eating hers. It stayed on her mind, especially in those quiet moments at the end of the day when she was trying to go to sleep. It didn't work, the whole sleep thing. Sometimes she'd have day naps. But at night, she'd lie awake, often with images of Rick's head between her thighs. She hadn't had an orgasm in over half a year, but she was seriously considering letting him try.
But mostly, life without Rick had been quiet. Not unlike life with him, she supposed. She had been enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon at Rick's creek, wrapped up in a blanket as she read one of his books. She had her phone with her, just in case he decided to call, but she got an even better surprise when her phone vibrated against her thigh and Sasha's name and face appeared on the screen. Michonne had reached out to her four times since their last conversation – most recently after the random call she'd received from Negan a week ago – but this was the first time she'd gotten a response.
"Oh, so you are alive," she answered dryly. It was much the same way she used to greet her friend, with anything other than 'Hello', back before she lost her happy.
"I know," Sasha sighed into the phone. She was so grateful to hear her friend's voice, even after ignoring it for the better part of three weeks. "Hey."
"Where the hell have you been?" Michonne asked.
"Spain," she answered simply, her tone almost indignant. "And… I was mad at you, so I wasn't trying to use my international minutes on calling you back."
Michonne took a moment to process the fact that her best friend had left the country and she had no idea. And she wanted to be mad about that – she was, really – but she also knew she had no right to hold it against her. Not after what she'd done. "Well that sounds nice," she said instead. "You went to visit Rosi's family?"
"No, just for a vacation this time," she answered breezily. "We went to Seville."
"Mm."
Sasha ignored her friend's obvious irritation and told her, "I did get your message though." She was referring to her latest text, asking about Negan. "I haven't seen him since before I left." Her voice dropped a few decibels as she went on to say, "But I did hear that Miss Lucille had a stroke a few days ago."
Michonne felt her breath catch in her throat at the news. "What?"
"She's okay," she was quick to assure her. "Dwight flew back to New York with him, and he said she's recovering well. Negan was probably just shaken up when he heard."
"Of course," Michonne frowned. She imagined he felt pretty low if it was bad enough to call her. And now she hated herself for not waking up that night when Rick told her to. But then, what would she have said? What would he have said? Would he have asked her to come home? Would she have accommodated? Maybe the reason he didn't leave a message or try to call again was because he knew as well as she did that their relationship was over. Their bond severed. She'd made sure of that. "Should I call him?" she wondered out loud, ignoring everything she'd just told herself.
Sasha sighed again, unsure of the answer to that question. The last time she saw Negan, at their friend's birthday party, he was so mad at Michonne, he wouldn't even speak to her. He was hurt, undoubtedly, but she genuinely didn't know whether hearing from Michonne now would make that better or worse. "I dunno, sis."
"I don't either," she said, her voice relaying her lack of confidence.
"He only called you the one time?"
"Yeah," Michonne sniffled, her eyes watering as she thought of Lucille. "I mean, this is after he called me a cunt via voicemail and told me to leave him alone since I couldn't give him anything else."
"Wait, what," Sasha asked, incredulous. "When?"
"A few weeks ago," she shrugged. "The first time I called you," she added quietly.
"Shit."
"It's fine."
"That's not fine," Sasha said. "I mean, maybe you deserved what he said," she joked, "but I should've been better for you."
"Sasha, you've been good to me," Michonne shook her head. "Too good sometimes." She surveyed the scene in front of her, wishing her friend could see how much better she was doing there in Tennessee. She wasn't great, not by a long shot, but she was better. "Even when you understand someone's shit, it doesn't stop you from getting tired of it sometimes. You needed a break."
"After the way you left, I was hurt," she admitted. "So yeah, maybe I did need a break from you."
Michonne laughed at her honesty. It was the thing she loved most about her. "It's probably good that you left me to fend for myself for a little while."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she confirmed. "I've been okay."
"Does that mean… I can come see you?" Sasha asked carefully. Hopefully.
"Sasha," Michonne groaned. Last thing she wanted, when they were on the cusp of feeling like themselves again, was to get into this conversation. One where she'd have to reject her yet again.
"It's been a whole ass month," Sasha reminded her. "When's the last time we were apart this long?"
"When you met that dancer and you swore you found 'the one', so you let her talk you into ditching your friends for almost three months."
"Okay, well I don't know why you're bringing up old stuff right now," she giggled at the embarrassing memory. "But that's not the point."
"Uh huh."
"I just wanna see your face and know you're okay."
"We can talk on FaceTime," Michonne offered.
"You know that's not what I mean."
"I do," she granted, sobering from their silly banter. "But I really am okay. I think I made the right choice."
Sasha nodded to herself. That was a relief to hear, if nothing else. "I think about you every day," she said, her sincerity palpable. "I tried to use Find My iPhone to track you down."
Michonne laughed. "I was smart enough to turn that off."
"Well I was thinking, what if that guy you told me about tried to kill you? What if you needed me to come through like Rod in Get Out?"
"You were gonna be my TSA?"
"Yes, bitch."
"You are crazy," Michonne giggled, amused to no end. God, she missed her.
"Damn right I am."
"Well, I'm pretty sure Rick's not gonna kill me," she promised. Unless it's in the bedroom, she thought.
"Oh, it's Rick now," Sasha teased. The last time they spoke, he was just 'a guy.' "I take it that means you've talked to him," she concluded, conveying her intrigue at the same time.
"You could say that," Michonne replied coyly. Once again, thinking about what Rick told her before he left.
Sasha gasped, hearing the giant hint in her coquettish tone. "What did you do?"
"I've gotten to know him," she shrugged again.
"In the biblical sense?"
"We probably shouldn't bring the Bible into this," Michonne quipped, sticking her tongue out as she laughed at herself.
"Yes, bitch!" Sasha submitted excitedly.
"No, but really," she went on, her tone turning serious. "You know I haven't been comfortable with sex in a long time, but with him… it had only been a week and I wanted to try."
"And it was good?"
"It was terrible," Michonne said, giggling again. "Not because of him, but because I wasn't ready. So I've just been pleasuring him every night, and I've liked it."
"Really?" Sasha asked, unsure what to say. Particularly because the thought of a penis in her mouth made her want to throw up.
"Really," she sighed. "But... he doesn't like the imbalance," she explained, rolling her eyes at how perfect he insisted on being, "so I think I'm gonna try again."
"Really?" Sasha repeated, her timbre lowering this time. "Who the hell is this guy?"
Michonne went on to explain how she and Rick ended up where they did. How it started with dinner and harmless dialogue. That when she found out he had a son, she wanted to go screaming for the hills, but the fact that he often had to leave to take care of that son meant that she had space to breathe. To miss him. And that the time they spent together felt easy, unlike every moment with Negan over the past several months. How she even managed to sleep, sometimes well, when she was with Rick. And she knew it didn't make sense, that someone who wanted to be alone also wanted to be with this one person exclusively, as if he were her little secret, and she his, but… it was true.
Sasha was almost speechless at these developments. The Michonne that left Atlanta was only a shell of her former self. And now, she seemed, not like her old self, but maybe a combination of old and someone new? Someone she didn't quite know. Should she be happy for her? Concerned? It was hard to tell. "So... do you see this being a long term thing with Rick? Is he actually your type?"
Michonne purposely avoided the question about whether she and Rick could ever be long term. They weren't even a thing, as far as she was concerned, so assigning some estimation to it seemed silly. "I don't know if I have a type," she said with a wistfulness in her words. "He's sweet. Completely unpretentious, but he's smart. Intellectual, even. He has these rough edges, but he's so soft. And he understands the value of silence." She closed her eyes, thinking of him. "He has good taste," she said. "If I had a type, I guess it would be him?"
"Mmh," Sasha remarked emphatically, feeling that description on a spiritual level. "Wait, he's not, like, a Twitter intellectual, is he?" The types that used big, often empty words, unable to just enjoy a simple thing without turning it into a deeper discussion. Usually about race. She had an ex like that, it drove her insane.
Michonne chuckled. "No," she said. "You know how I feel about that whole 'woke bae' thing." She was rolling her eyes at the term as it came out of her mouth. "I don't think it's performative," she said thoughtfully. "I think he's just genuinely curious. And open. I don't always like talking, but I like listening to him."
"More than you could ever say for Negan," Sasha casually noted.
"That's not fair," Michonne countered. "I listened to him."
"If only he said something you were interested in."
Michonne went quiet, searching for a defense, and she wasn't sure whether it was for Negan or herself. "People don't have to have everything in common," she said. "Sometimes you teach other."
"Right..."
"It's true."
"You never talked about Negan the way you have about this Rick guy."
"Why would I talk about two different people the same way?"
"Mm-hm."
"Sasha."
"Listen, I have no skin in this," Sasha said. "For all I know, this guy is an axe murderer and I should be pushing you back toward your fiancé—"
"Ex-fiancé," Michonne corrected her.
"I should be telling you to come home and find a therapist and work through this like I know you can…"
"Sasha—"
"But," she cut her off to continue, "you say you made the right choice, and I believe you. I'm hearing you with signs of life for the first time in in a long time. The laughter in your voice. You're talking about sex," she said with marvel in her own voice. "It's the first time in five months I don't feel this overwhelming sense of worry for you. And if it's because of the place you're in, or the the guy you're with, or you just really needed to get away from this… then I dunno, I guess I'm here for all of it."
"I appreciate that," Michonne said.
"Now if I know you, you're gonna get off this phone and think about Negan and Lucille for much too long." She paused when Michonne laughed, knowing damn well she knew she was right. "But please don't use them as an excuse to backslide," Sasha advised her. "He called once and never called back, he didn't need you that bad."
Michonne smiled, recognizing her friend's efforts to exonerate her. "I appreciate that, too."
"And I'd appreciate it if you'd let Rick return the favor you've been doing him," Sasha offered as her final piece of advice. "He can call me for some tips if he needs to, but if you're gonna refuse a professional, at least get yourself some sexual healing. Shit."
"I hate you," Michonne grinned.
"I love you," Sasha said earnestly.
Michonne nodded, fighting every instinct she had not to hop in her car and drive back to Atlanta, just to give her friend a big hug. "I love you too, Sash."
Friday, at last. Rick had been awaiting this evening since he left Gatlinburg twelve days prior. He was glad that he and Michonne left on good terms, so he had something to look forward to, but it also made the time go by so much slower. He thought about her every night, but made sure to text sporadically. He didn't want to be a nuisance – especially when she was already so gun shy. So he was pleasantly surprised when she would initiate a conversation with him, asking about his day, or telling him about hers. She'd finally begun teaching her course at UT, and on the first day, she sent a simple, honest text to him that morning: I'm nervous. It was the one time they spoke on the phone while he was gone. He told her she would be fine, her sparkling personality would surely dazzle them. He said it teasingly, but he also meant it in a way. Because he knew how she was about her work. She loved to learn and it showed. It shone. So even if she was often quiet and reserved with him – and sometimes, not even that – he knew she would be fine with her students. And she was.
It would be strange to only have two days with her now, as opposed to the full work week he'd gotten used to. Their uninterrupted string of 4 or 5 days together was suddenly cut in half. Just when they were truly getting close, getting used to this formula of theirs. He wasn't even sure what they'd do with such little time, which made him nervous.
Nervous because he hadn't felt this way about a woman in so long. He was attracted to everything about her, and he wasn't afraid of that, but also knew he had to hold back in showing it, for fear of scaring her. Because he knew she wasn't necessarily in a position to reciprocate, even if she wanted to. And he was fairly certain that she wanted to. But the unknownness of it all was also exciting in a way; he enjoyed the anticipation that had built in his chest about seeing her again. When he pulled up to his home, he could see her sitting on his porch, waiting for him, he presumed, and he thought, he hoped, maybe that feeling was mutual.
Michonne had been at Rick's house for nearly half the day, using her idle time waiting to make dinner. She'd decided on a panzanella salad, figuring it would keep well since she didn't know exactly when he'd be back. Their last rendezvous was at his place, so she knew he would've come to her – he always tried to be fair – but one of these days she would tell him she preferred the charm of his quaint home, she'd come to realize. It felt different, yet familiar. Warm. Not unlike Rick, actually.
The unmistakable sound of his truck made her practically jump out of her seat. Twelve days was a long time without the only person she really knew. She unraveled herself from her blanket and headed down the steps to meet him, the setting sun casting a pretty pinkish glow over their neighborhood. They reunited at the edge of the driveway, and as Rick came into view, Michonne wasn't sure that glow hadn't blinded her. While he was gone, he'd mentioned getting a haircut since his son had gotten one for school, but naturally, at the mention of Carl, she'd all but tuned him out. Now, she wished she'd prepared herself for the sight of Rick without all that hair on his head and face. His long curls had been chopped to a more refined length, leaving waves instead of the fluffy tendrils that typically adorned his neck. His beard was completely gone, showing off his dimpled cheeks and the fullness of his lips. He looked like a Disney prince.
She stared for much longer than appropriate, awed by the fact that he was even more attractive than she bargained for under all that hair. "I've… I've never seen your face like that," she grinned. It was a silly thing to say – obviously, he knew that – but she had nothing of import in the moment. His bone structure had rendered her speechless.
Rick smiled back bashfully, relieved that she liked it. "I thought it was best not to scare all Carl's friends with the mountain man look."
She approached him gingerly, wanting a closer look, but his gaze caught hers first, their eyes doing a flirtatious dance and she wasn't sure whether or not to kiss him. So she didn't. Instead, again, she replied with the first thing on her mind. "Here I was looking forward to feeling that beard between my thighs."
His eyebrows raised with surprise, followed by the acknowledgment of the maxi dress she was wearing. He'd never seen her in one before – it was generally tight jeans and a tank top, usually accompanied by a sweater until she changed into some form of sleepwear. But today, there was definitely a marked difference. The dress was a heather gray – a color that did her no justice – but the way the fabric hugged her perfect figure was quite the opposite. Just enough cleavage to whet his appetite, and as he followed her up the steps, there was a jiggle to her step that mesmerized him; especially with the fabric clinging to her wondrously round backside, even getting stuck between her cheeks as she walked. His jeans got a little tighter as he imagined seeing what was underneath that dress again – if her joke was any indication, maybe sooner than later.
"What do you think we should we do for dinner," Rick would ask once he returned from a quick but much needed trip to the bathroom. When he walked out, she was in the kitchen, pouring herself a big glass of wine. Her hair was up in a big bun on top of her head, allowing him a view of the full shape of her face. He wondered what it was like to have a perfect face like that. He imagined her being stopped everywhere she went. He questioned whether he'd ever witness that firsthand. "Maybe we could venture into town for somethin'," he suggested.
Michonne looked at him then, amused. He was so cute. She was glad he couldn't see what was on her mind at the moment. "Really?" she asked. It was the first time he'd ever suggested something like that, and she didn't know how to respond. Especially when she just wanted to be alone with him. "Like a date?"
He shrugged as he moved to join her at the counter, feeling a bit naked under her stare. She was looking at him as if he were a stranger. "I dunno. You seem dressed up."
"I'm not," she assured him, taking a sip of her wine before offering him the glass. "I made something for us."
"Oh, good," he replied, appreciating her ceaseless efficiency. He also took a sip, mostly to avoid her gaze, because he wasn't sure what she was looking at. He hoped it was just because she liked seeing his face, but he wasn't sure, which left him blushing.
"Can I touch it?" she asked, her voice thin; nervous to speak her desire out loud.
"What?" he chuckled softly.
"Your face," she said. She realized what an odd request it was, but he just looked so handsome, his skin so soft, her hands were tingling to feel it. Like an electricity coursing through her, her attraction to him pushing through to her fingertips.
He nodded for her to do so, their eyes locking as she moved in close and pressed her warm hand to his face. She caressed him, her lips curling into a sheepish smile as she seemed to study his beardless visage. She went on to comb her fingers through his hair, examining the full length of it for her seeming approval. Her gaze dropped to his lips and her hand followed, her thumb tracing the line of his bottom one. He wasn't sure what was on her mind, but as her finger brushed his wet lip, only one thing was on his. He set their wine glass back on the counter, pinning her against it in the process, and went in for a kiss. Gently, but hungrily, he sucked at her plump lips like they were his sustenance. Her tongue met his within seconds, pulling an unexpected moan from both of them as they melted into one another. Rick's right hand snaked down her back until it reached her ass, giving it a soft squeeze as he pulled her into him. God, she felt perfect.
Michonne's tongue lashed against his, tasting the red wine on him, but feeling drunk from him. She loved the way he kissed, tenderly sucking at her lips while his tongue slowly pushed its way into her mouth. Their noses smashed together, inhaling one another, while their bodies were so close they were practically one. And when they pulled apart for air, her chest heaving against his, she gave him a little knowing smile. There didn't seem to be any question about what would happen next. "Welcome back," she said.
Rick grinned, his entire body feeling warm and tingly – from the wine, but again, mostly the kiss. "Should we eat first?" he asked. Because he had a feeling he would expend a lot of energy that night.
"Yes. You should," Michonne agreed. She was being cheeky, but she was also too anxious to actually keep anything down. She'd been looking forward to this night all day – all week, really – but now that it was here, she was nervous as hell. Still, she went and sat on the bed like she owned the place, and waited for Rick to catch up.
"Oh," he said with surprise once he finally did figure it out. He was also mad at himself for totally missing the double entendre. He moved to join her, noting the condom packets sitting on the nightstand. She hadn't been kidding when she said she would think about this. "So you're sure?" he asked for good measure. He needed to know that she didn't feel pressured in any way.
"Don't start this again," she smirked, recalling their first attempt. His need to make sure she was okay was part of why she realized she wasn't. And while that was something she should probably be thankful for, she wanted to enjoy this without overthinking it. "I'm sure that I trust you. And I wanna give it another try." She watched Rick acknowledge her reply with a nod, and she sat back on the bed so that she was squarely in the middle of it. "So get over here."
Something tells me that after I do this, I won't feel the same
Rick was happy to acquiesce, sauntering over to the bed with a mischievous gleam in his hungry blue eyes. He climbed on top of her, between her legs and into her arms, and he kissed her again. Harder, and more passionately this time, his lips forcing hers open and sucking all the air from her lungs. He wasted no time, but still, he took what he needed, giving attention to every part of her; his lips brushing across her chin before moving down her neck. He sucked at her skin like candy, giving it three little licks before taking a soft bite, making her moan his name. He liked hearing her moan his name. He paused briefly, to pull off his t-shirt, before he continued across her delectable collarbone; and then down her chest, pulling at the straps of her dress to leave her shoulders bare.
As he kissed and sucked at her décolletage, Michonne ran her fingers through his soft hair, trying to keep her thoughts on it, as opposed to everything else that wanted to consume her. The further his kisses moved south, the more her anxiousness grew, her heart racing as she felt him lifting her dress. She worried as if this were her first time – how would it feel? how would she taste to him? what if she did something embarrassing while he was down there? She thought she was ready, even making sure to shave for the occasion, but as he exposed her thighs, in what felt like slow motion, she realized she was trembling.
It ain't drugs, it ain't lust, but it feels like it's numbing my pain
Rick reached beneath her dress to pull off her panties, his hands feeling for the elastic waist, only to find it wasn't there. She wasn't wearing any. He smiled, feeling his dick twitch in his jeans as he continued to push up her dress. He kissed between her thighs, licking and biting at her dark brown skin as if it were actual chocolate, but noticed her quivering seemed to only intensify as he went higher. At the risk of pissing her off, he pulled back. "Michonne, maybe we should talk—"
"I'm fine," she promised, sitting up on her elbows to see his face. To look him in the eye and assure him. "Keep going."
"You don't seem fine."
I've been hurt for so long I forgot how to love, is that strange?
"I haven't had an orgasm in seven months," she revealed, thinking of the many times she faked it with Negan at the end of her pregnancy, just so he'd get off of her. "Not even from… self-pleasure. So I'm trying to catch up, and I'm nervous," she said. "But I'm ready." She pulled up her dress so that she was naked from the waist down and bit her bottom lip, nodding for him to go on. She was eager to find out just how good he was.
Rick swallowed visibly at the sight of all her pretty brown skin on display, licking his lips before pushing her legs apart. He felt a rumbling in his stomach as he went to work, starting with a kiss to her warm flesh. Her entire body twitched in response, giving him pause, but she'd assured him she was ready, so he persisted, giving her pink clit a long, wet lick. He smiled when she let out a quiet moan and her thighs widened for him, encouraging him to go deeper. But he continued to tease her with short, soft licks to her sensitive bud, then followed them with prolonged sucks that quickened her breath. He ran his tongue down her bare pussy and sucked at her perineum, making her clench and squeeze and grab his hair. And he smiled again because he knew he was just getting started.
"Rick," she hummed, her body feeling like it was on fire. Within minutes, he had her squirming and soaking wet and already on the brink of an orgasm. "Fuck," she growled. Fuck. His tongue was inside her, dipping in and out of her while his wet fingers rubbed gently at her clit, working her nerves like he was getting paid for it. Like he'd known her forever and exactly what she needed. He felt so good she wanted to cry.
Something tells me you know what I mean and you feel the same
"You okay?" he asked from between her thighs. He had a pretty good idea that she was, but he wanted to check in.
"Yeah," she answered with a quick, breathless nod.
He could feel her body tense, so he eased up on her for a moment, moving his kisses down her thighs. He meticulously licked every inch of her skin, giving special attention to her scars and stretch marks, then moving back up again. He licked through the rippled muscles of her stomach, his tongue circling and kissing her navel before heading back down. His fingers gently penetrated her, his mouth doing the rest of the work, all of it making her hips lift from the bed. He made sure to lap up all of her juices, and still, she was soaking wet. His dick was begging to be let out and taste her too, but for now, his tongue was having too much fun. "You taste so good," he mumbled into her.
Michonne's own mouth was watering as she listened to the smacking sounds of him eating her like she was a three course meal. With him sucking on her clit, the hum of his words reverberating against her, she felt a rush of ecstasy in her core. A little explosion. She moaned loudly and unabashedly as she experienced her first orgasm in far too long. "Rick," she whispered, unsure whether she wanted him to stop or keep going, the pleasure so unbearable. But when he began to run his tongue sideways across her clit, as if he didn't even notice the gush of cum that accompanied her climax, she tried her best to go with it. Squeezing a fistful of his curls in her hand, her thighs shaking and periodically closing in on him, his smooth face feeling like butter against them, she relished in his tongue work. She closed her eyes and bit her lip and let him take her to heaven. "Fuck."
There ain't no choir
But I hear the angels sing
Holy as water, fallen from Heaven's feet
He smiled at the mixture of pleasure and torture in her voice. "I told you," he said.
"Shut up," she hissed, squirming beneath him. Her other hand gripped the sheets as he pushed her legs so far back, they were damn near over her head, and she almost combusted at just the thought of him getting any deeper. "Rick," she groaned.
"Mmm," was his only response, a deep moan to tell her just how much he was enjoying this. He loved it, in fact – the way she tasted, the way she smelled, the way her body responded to him. He made out with her pussy lips, pushing his tongue between them as if she could return the kiss. He used his entire face to pleasure her, his nose working her clit while his fingers searched for her G-spot. He knew he'd found it when she began to whimper, and the grip she had on his hair left him worrying she might pull it out. It all had him hard as a rock. It turned him on to know that he could make her feel this good.
Michonne was literally shaking by then. Rick was so generous, not only with his lips, but with sharing his gratification of it all. The sounds he was making, leaving her feeling like she was the best meal he'd ever had. The way he gave attention to every single part of her, even licking between her cheeks to make sure he covered all her bases. She was pretty certain his generosity was going to kill her. "Rick," she whined, feeling his tongue circling her clit. She could feel her cum dripping down her skin, and then him immediately lapping it up. She could just imagine him, eyes closed, fully indulged in her pussy, making her clench her entire body with excitement. Another happy ending on its way. "Shit," she whispered. She whimpered. Her toes locked, her breathing labored, she erupted with another delicious orgasm, leaving her a puddle of delighted bliss.
Oh baby, there ain't no altar, but I can't help but pray
Rick continued to moan through her climax as he finished her off, licking up her cum while leaving her wet for the next round. Before he would allow her legs back down, he kissed and sucked at her left cheek, then the right, then made his way up her thigh, his lips leaving little damp spots along the way. All while Michonne tried to find some way to process what had just happened.
Ooh, baby tell me this feeling I'm feeling is not in vain
"What the fuck," she sighed to herself. She even managed a smile as she gazed at the ceiling in a daze, her hand still clutching the sheets with a death grip.
Rick rolled onto the bed beside her, also needing a moment to compose himself. He was about thirty seconds from coming, right along with her, and now that he'd had a taste of her, he wasn't sure what he could do to contain it. "It was good?" he asked.
She scoffed, knowing he knew it was. He had her literally whimpering for mercy. "It was good," she confirmed, turning her head to steal a glance of this perfect man. His face was flushed, and he was still licking his swollen lips, making her insides tingle.
"One of these days, you'll believe me when I tell you somethin'," he smirked, finally forcing himself to sit up. He looked over at her, still splayed across the bed with her dress around her waist, still exhausted, it seemed. He could feel himself throbbing in his jeans. "You need a break?"
She could only nod and watch helplessly as he left the room with that signature walk that drove her so crazy. God, he was sexy. And now that she knew he gave head like this? His sexiness only magnified. She was mad at herself for not doing this sooner. She wanted to feel something other than pain, and the remedy was here all along. Rick and his magic tongue. She could tell this wasn't a chore for him; it wasn't a means to getting her wet so that he could fuck; not like some guys she'd been with. It was something he got enjoyment from, too. And another thing to like about him. Damn it.
'Cause you, you've seen inside me
And you, you shame beside me
Within a few minutes, Rick returned from the bathroom, amused to find Michonne in the exact same position he left her. It put a cocky smirk on his face as he strolled across the room to the bar. He poured himself some gin while Michonne watched, quietly wondering why he still had pants on. In fact, she wasn't sure why she was still wearing her dress and sat up from the bed, finally, to pull it off, leaving her naked.
"You want somethin'?" Rick asked, already pulling out a glass for her, ready to take her request.
Wordlessly, Michonne grabbed a condom from his nightstand and went to join him at the bar that she'd admired so much on her first visit. Every time she was there, she thought about how beautiful it was. And now, her only interest was in defiling it. She wrapped her arms around his waist, showing off the gold wrapper in her hand. She pressed her chest against his bare back, her forehead resting against his cool skin, and she whispered, "I want you."
I ain't easy to love, I won't vow or promise I'll change
Rick set down his glass and turned to face her, licking his lips at her flawless frame staring back at him. In one swift motion, he grabbed her by the hips and picked her up, sitting her on the cabinet for easy access. She yelped in surprise, but caught up rather quickly, pulling him in for a kiss as she reached for his belt, desperate to undo those jeans. Their tongues wrestled while he squeezed her tits, his thumbs teasing her stiffened nipples to make her moan. She could already feel his bulging erection as she got him down to his boxers. They were both so hungry for this.
But something tells me you know what I've been through and you feel the same
She lowered his underwear with her toes while he fumbled to open the condom wrapper, being careful not tear its contents. Her chest was heaving, her supple breasts teasing him, and he couldn't help but wrap his mouth around one, sucking at her hard nipple with hot, lingering licks until it went soft again; devouring her flesh while she massaged his cock.
"Rick," she purred. She wanted him inside her so badly, her pussy was pulsating. She could feel her juices wetting the bar's pristine surface.
He reluctantly released her breast to finish the job of unwrapping the condom and rolling it on as quickly as he could. The two of them locked eyes as he pulled Michonne's hips to the edge of the cabinet, the head of his dick pressed against her mouthwatering pussy. She grabbed his shoulders for leverage and nodded for him to go on. She was ready this time.
A delighted sigh fell from her lips as he pushed inside her, accompanied by a grunt from him, feeling her hot, wet walls surrounding him. He moved slowly at first. Gently. Allowing her to acclimate to the feel of him. Giving himself that same courtesy. She was tight and already so fucking wet, even a condom couldn't hide that fact.
"Shit," he whispered. He began to roll his hips, establishing a rhythm inside her. The bar began to shake, and the glassware along with it, but he couldn't have cared less. He went for her neck, sucking her skin and licking away the saltiness that came with it when she began to sweat. He enjoyed the bounce of her tits against his chest when he began to fuck her harder. He squeezed her ass, all thick and juicy in his hands. He wasn't sure how long he would last.
Michonne was holding onto his shoulders and neck for dear life, her short nails scratching his skin as her back beat against the wall behind them. He felt so good, his long cock filling her up, sliding past her walls and back out again. The fluidity of his stroke left absolutely nothing to be desired. His tongue had her mind a jumble. Her hair had come out of its ponytail, her thick locs falling into her face. The glasses clinking around them just amplified the heat of it all. "Fuck," she growled into his skin. She'd been been waiting to be dicked down like this all her life. "Rick," she whimpered. There it was again. She couldn't help but wonder, How does he make me do that? But she was truly at his mercy, trying to stay upright while he fucked her sideways. She could feel the next orgasm bubbling as his dick rubbed against her clit with every thrust.
"I'm gonna come," he breathed into her neck. He could feel his heart beating in his ears, his sight just a blur of her. He loved how sticky and sweaty they'd become over the course of their intercourse. Despite all Michonne's hints to the contrary, she knew what she was doing. The way she rolled her hips to meet his at the exact right spot. They had a chemistry that couldn't be concocted, he knew that the first time they met. But it made for fantastic sex. The kind of sex that came with sloppy kisses and unattractive grunts, little scratches and bites and breathless, nonsensical expletives as your eyes rolled to the back of your head – all before you even came.
And there ain't not choir, but I hear the angels sing
Holy as water, fallen from Heaven's feet
Rick was thankful when he felt Michonne's body go slack, and he could feel the warmth of her cum coating his cock, much in the same way it had his tongue just a little while ago. The chorus of his name on her lips only pushed him to the finish line faster. He slowed his grinding to a near halt as he released with a hard grunt, the smell of their sex filling the room. He allowed himself to rest, his forehead touching hers, while his hands continued to massage her backside affectionately. Their heavy breaths were the soundtrack to their orgasms.
"God," Michonne exhaled, rubbing at his back. She could already feel the raised welts in his skin that would undoubtedly leave marks the next day.
Rick smiled, leaving kisses along her clavicle. In the dim room, with the sunset having turned to night, her skin looked almost black and he loved it. "You saw Him too?" he joked.
She hit his lower back softly, admonishing him for the blasphemous joke. Though in the back of her mind, she wasn't entirely sure she hadn't. Because damn. "I'm glad you encouraged me to face this," she said seriously. "I can't believe I would've missed out on you."
He smiled a bit bashfully. Just when he was returning to his normal color, she made him blush again. He ran his thumb up the side of her torso and back down again as he nodded. "So we broke your dry spell," he asked.
She worked hard to hold on to her smile, but it burst past her lips anyway, knowing he knew the answer to that. "Yes. We did."
He gave her another short kiss before finally pulling out of her, the two of them separating for a quick cleanup before falling into bed together, spent, but in a haze of bliss all the same. "It's only 9:30," Rick announced when he noticed the clock across the room.
Michonne snorted. After all of that, she thought surely it was the middle of the night. "Guess that means we have time to do it again?"
"We have all the time in the world for that," he said. He rolled onto his side to face her, pushing one of her locs behind her ear to gaze at her face. That after-sex glow had her looking even more beautiful than usual, which he didn't think was possible. He wanted to tell her as much, but she dropped his gaze as if she knew what would come out of his mouth next. "What's wrong?" he asked, worried.
"Nothing," she shook her head, staring at the ceiling instead.
"Michonne..."
"I just… I don't want you to make this weird," she said softly. "I like you, Rick. I hope you know that," she added. "But this is… I mean, we still can't be a 'thing'."
He chuckled, nodding at the fact that her insecurity had reared its ugly head yet again. But instead of indulging her in her fantasy, he pulled her into his arms, ignoring the tangle of sheets between them, so that she was practically on top of him. "Despite your best efforts, we're already a thing," he whispered against her ear.
She rolled her eyes, perhaps at the fact that he was probably right – though in truth, maybe she hadn't tried that hard at all. She was into him. She couldn't remember ever being this into someone before. Not so quickly, at least. And as he wrapped his arms around her so tightly, she felt like her insides were being rearranged, and she gently ran her elegant fingers through his arm hair, she said a silent prayer. She wasn't religious, not anymore, but she hoped someone up there could hear her. Please, God, don't let me fall in love with this man.
Oh baby, there ain't no altar, but I can't help but pray
Oh, baby tell me this feeling I'm feeling is not in vain
Lyrics: "Vain" - Kirby (Vain - Single)
