A/N: sorry for the wait on this chapter! And thanks again for all of your reviews :)

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Their Thai food sat on the coffee table, quickly getting cold, while Rick's hands dipped into the back of Michonne's jeans again. She was seated in his lap, her chest pressed against his and her hands stroking the now-smooth planes of his face while he methodically tasted and explored her mouth. She'd barely gotten through giving him the tour of the historic home-turned-apartment building where she lived, when the tension of standing in the same room without touching each other became too much to bear. Pausing only to pay the delivery guy, and set out the food they'd ordered, they'd been like this since they arrived forty-five minutes ago.

"I guess being forced to hide out isn't so bad." He muttered against her ear, before taking the lobe between his teeth and gently sucking. She shivered, and he slid his hands up to her waist, rubbing circles with his thumbs as he squeezed.

"No," she said, breathlessly. "It's not bad at all."

"Was this your plan all along?" he asked with a grin. "When you told Hershel we would keep things under wraps, were you just trying to get me to your apartment?"

She laughed out loud with her head thrown back, the sight forcing him to shift beneath her to find some friction to soothe the growing bulge in his pants. He was trying his hardest to maintain his Southern manners and follow her lead, but he was already straining against his jeans. Now the sweet sound of her laughter, and they way she moved up and down his body while she kissed him, was threatening to drive him more crazy than Negan liked to claim he was.

Michonne was not oblivious to his physical reaction, because when she looked at him again, her eyes had changed from playful to sultry, and she had her lip pulled between her teeth. She slid her hands down his chest and over his stomach, until her fingers wrapped around his belt buckle. He swallowed reflexively at the anticipation. "Shit, Michonne," he hissed, as she worked the buckle free, then moved onto his zipper, unwrapping him slowly. "I know this is technically only our first date, but..."

"No," she said, her voice melting to a purr as she toyed with the trail of hair that dipped into his boxer shorts. "This is our third date; you took me fishing, and to the park to play baseball…"

He chuckled at her, lamenting the fact that he couldn't treat her to the kind of night she deserved. "When this all blows over, I owe you a real date."

"This is perfect," she whispered, quieting him with a finger to his lips.

"Yeah?" he asked. He parted his lips, capturing her finger between his teeth and she giggled.

"Yes. Besides, I broke up with my boyfriend for you. We might as well make it official." She slipped away from him then, moving to stand between his knees, and tugged the t-shirt she was wearing over her head, tossing it on the floor with a playful smirk. "That is, unless you still want to keep things...professional."

Rick groaned, feeling the embarrassment of his own words tinting his skin pink as he stood to gather her into his arms. He kissed her again, moving down her neck with his teeth and tongue, hoping to make amends for his behavior, since he was lucky enough to get the chance. "Actually," he said, pulling away to flash her a wolfish grin, "I think I'd like to see just how unprofessional we can get."

She giggled again, her expression demuring under his gaze, and it spurred him on. He suddenly saw that he had the same effect on her as she did on him. "Which way?" he whispered, leaning into her ear and letting his breath tickle the hairs on her neck, making them stand on end.

She hooked her fingers into his jeans, his belt and fly still hanging open, and walked backwards down a short hallway, pulling him along with her. When they got to the door to her bedroom, she led them inside and took a seat on the bed in front of him. She reached for him, running her hands eagerly up and down his thighs as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor.

The look she was giving him- girlish and sexy at the same time- set his cock to stone and he had to reach down and relieve some of the pressure with his hand. Cupping her face with his free hand, he leaned down to kiss her slowly, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to slow himself down. He had been imagining this for too long to rush it; dreaming about her since that first morning in King County, when she'd come downstairs in those tiny pajama shorts, and he'd had a vision of hoisting her onto the kitchen table, pulling them aside, and making her his breakfast.

Michonne leaned back onto the mattress, pulling him with her as she scooted to the center. He settled between her legs, her knees bent on either side of him, and he pressed himself into her while they kissed, his hands and mouth in a race to mark every part of her body.

"This is so much better than movie night," she said.

"Especially when you're picking." He pulled her lip between his teeth, sucking until she was pawing at her jeans, trying to slide them down over her hips.

Rick sat up on his knees, grabbing the tight denim, and with one quick pull stripped her lower half until she was left wearing only a pair of white, cotton and lace underwear that matched her bra. The set was both casual and sexy as hell against her dark skin. Fitting, he thought, for a woman who could look like an entire meal, covered in mud on the bank of a river.

Collapsing back onto her, he ran his thumb along the lace trim of her bra and whispered in her ear. "Did you wear this for me?" he asked, feeling her shudder beneath him. He wasn't trying to make her squirm, but now that he knew he could, he couldn't keep that confidence from spilling into his tone.

"I might have considered it when I put it on," she said. She was flirting back, but there was a nervousness in her voice that he wanted nothing more than to obliterate. She was beautiful and he could barely control himself; she didn't need to be shy.

"I like it," he said, kissing the tops of her breasts. "Can I take it off?"

She nodded, sucking in a sharp breath, as he pulled the cup of her bra down, letting her spill into his hand. "You're so fucking gorgeous, Michonne," he said, pausing to flick his tongue over her nipple. "I've wanted to do this for a long time."

"Do it then," she whispered, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra and shimmy out of it. He didn't have to be told twice. He sat up, yanking his jeans down and kicking them off as smoothly as he could, then slid her panties down her legs as she watched him with hooded eyes.

He nudged her legs apart with his knee, settling back down between them. She was looking up at him with a smile that was comfortable, and eager, and had a hint of emotion that he both recognized and relished in.

"You ok?" he asked, brushing her hair off of her shoulder and smoothing his thumb over her skin.

"Yes. This is just...it's intense, right?"

"Yeah," he agreed. He was taken by her confession. He'd felt the same way himself- like if he couldn't have her he might not survive. He'd never felt this kind of compulsive pull with a woman before. He found it exhilarating, but he could see how it could be unnerving. He kissed her again, more chastely. "We can slow down if you want."

"No!" she nearly shouted, causing him to laugh. "That's definitely not what I meant." She reached for him, pulling him back to her, and kissed him hungrily.

Their flesh pressed together, and her fingers digging into his waist, he was suddenly aware that they were well past the point of logistics. He pulled up to his forearms, clearing his throat before glancing between them. "I...um...don't have anything," he confessed. "With me, I mean...a condom. Or, you know, either way you took that...I don't."

Michonne brought her hand to her mouth, giggling. His own mouth turned up into a lopsided grin as he chuckled with her, glad to see any timidness fading away in light of his stammering.

"It's ok," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I'm on the pill."

He nodded, relieved that all of the boxes had been checked and he could finally close the remaining distance between them. They locked eyes, and he could feel her pulse beating steadily under his hand as he pushed into her with one slow thrust. Michonne gasped as she adjusted to him, and both of their eyes slipped closed. Intense was an understatement, he thought. Being inside of her felt downright life-changing.

They fell into a rhythm after a while, her hips rising to meet his, letting him go deeper with each thrust until he was completely buried inside of her tight walls. This was too good; the anticipation, the look on her face, the noises she was making-he wasn't going to last. He'd never been one to leave a woman behind, and he was also acutely aware that she had probably been with Mike in this very bed not that long ago- he was determined to erase those memories and replace them with ones starring himself.

He rocked into her a few more times, relishing in her audible reaction to each stroke, then let himself slip from her warmth.

Michonne's eyes flew open as he pulled away, and he detected a slight scowl on her face as she tried to stutter out a complaint. He only grinned; he was going to take care of her first, then he'd be right back where he belonged. He kissed her hard to head off her objections, his fingers taking his place inside her, and she went back to the satisfied moans from before. Releasing her lips, he traveled downward, pausing at her cleavage for a practice lick, then her belly button. He could feel her stomach muscles contract the lower he went, and when he got to his destination, he put a firm hand on the back of her thigh, bending her leg and throwing it over his shoulder.

"Rick," she said with a sharp breath.

"Can I?" he asked, his nose already rubbing against her.

She nodded, her lip between her teeth again, and he wasted no time diving into her warmth with his tongue. She cried out a hybrid version of his name blended with an expletive, and the sound split his face with a grin as he reveled in all of the details of his fantasy coming true. Determined to push her over the edge quickly and efficiently so he could reclaim his spot inside her, he listened intently to her reactions, letting them guide him as he worked. He knew from his profession that it was patience and dedication to perfection that yielded results, and this was no different. She dug her heels into the mattress and he increased his speed; she froze in place, arching her back, and he knew he'd found a good spot. It didn't take long until her thighs were trembling around his ears and she was bucking into him, painfully clutching at his hair.

He sat up, trying not to look too proud of himself, and took in the sight of her eyes clenched shut and her lips parted as she tried to catch her breath. His eyes lingered on her breasts as he gave himself a couple more strokes, but he was dying to get a good view of her from behind- sans tiny shorts or tight jeans.

"Will you turn over for me?" he asked, watching a smile grace her face at the request. She did as he asked, and his hands immediately went to her ass, kneading her soft flesh. She moaned as he shuffled closer, burying himself inside her in one stroke. He bent over her, one hand on her shoulder, the other holding him up as he latched onto the back of her neck with his mouth, alternating between sucking at her skin and dragging his teeth.

She called out after one particularly perfect thrust, and he felt himself lose control, pressing his face into her hair, as he spilled into her.

...

Michonne clung to the pillow, Rick's breath hot on her ear as his movements slowed above her. She wanted to say something, anything, but her speech had abandoned her. She'd heard stories of sex like this, but she hadn't believed it until now. It wasn't that he did anything special- well maybe that thing with his tongue- or that he knew some secret she had yet to discover, but somehow her body responded to him in a way she didn't know it could. She thought back to the way he had made her quiver just by touching her hand in that cafe- she should have known.

He pressed his lips to her cheek once, twice, then dropped his damp forehead onto her shoulder. She could feel his arms shaking from the exertion of holding himself up, and she pulled to her side, just enough for him to drop one arm and lie flush against her. He immediately used his free hand to wrap around her waist and pull her even closer.

He was trailing lazy kisses along her jaw and shoulder when her words came back to her. "That was amazing," she whispered. His eyes were still closed, but he grinned against her neck, nuzzling his nose into her hair and taking a deep breath.

"You're amazing," he said. She felt his shoulders go lax, his head feeling heavy in the crook of her neck, and she swept her fingers slowly up and down his arm.

She wanted to fall asleep where she lay, trapped in his embrace and all of her senses invaded by him, but her stomach suddenly began grumbling loudly and painfully, causing them both to laugh.

Rick peered at her from one crystal-blue eye, the other still hidden by the pillow. "You think the food is still good?" he asked.

She did a quick mental calculation as to how long it had been sitting out, then quickly dismissed any danger with a note of the salt and preservative content in the carby meal. "I'm willing to chance it," she said.

Rick laughed, rolling away from her and exiting the messy bed. "Stay here," he said.

He returned moments later with two takeout boxes, silverware, and a couple of wine glasses- the bottle of chilled white tucked under his arm.

Michonne took the food from him, smoothing the sheet over her legs and laying out the utensils, while Rick poured her a glass of wine.

"So, Hershel called you one of his favorite people," she said, handing him a box with a fork and taking her glass.

"I caught that," he chuckled, filling his mouth with noodles. He finished chewing before continuing. "I can say the same for him. He's always welcomed me and Carl with open arms, making sure we had whatever we needed."

She stared at him, her mind drifting back to their one degree of separation all this time. "How is it we've never been introduced before?" she asked, taking her own bite.

"I don't know." He looked as though he were really considering it, and she waited eagerly for whatever explanation he could come up with. Instead he only offered her a shrug. "Maybe now was just the right time."

She considered that for a moment. Besides the fact that she was with Mike when they met, it did seem like the exact right moment for her to find someone like him. She'd been restless for awhile now- unsure in her career, unhappy with her relationship with Mike- then Rick had come along and showed her that there were still some surprises left in life, if you were open to seeing them. Then, of course, there was the situation Rick found himself in. From what she could see, he was at a roadblock too. Just as disenchanted with his own status quo. Though he had a better handle on what exactly he had been looking for. She didn't know what was worse, not knowing what you want, or knowing what you want and not being able to find it. Either way, the weight of what they'd both been missing had finally become too heavy when circumstance put them in each other's path.

"So tell me something," she said, watching the muscles in his jaw contract as he savored his meal. "When we were in Hershel's office, you didn't seem all that worried about the fact that we lost the story. Why not?"

He shifted, avoiding her eyes, and she noticed his posture tense. "It'll be fine, Michonne," he said. "I'll lose a few sponsorship deals, but I don't even drink Pepsi and I was thinking about getting a new truck anyway." He smiled at her in a way that was meant to end the conversation, but she wasn't willing to let him off the hook.

"Rick, you don't deserve to lose anything over this. We can find a different way to fight back."

He shrugged again, looking unconcerned. "I'm more worried about you," he said, pivoting. "Now that Hershel explained why he picked you to write it."

She shook her head. "It's not about me."

"It's all about you," he said, finally looking at her. "This whole thing. That's what I meant about it being the right time."

"I don't understand."

He set his food aside and shifted under the sheet to look at her. His eyes were darting around her face as if he were gauging her response before he'd even said what he had to say. He took a deep breath, letting the outward release push his mouth into a sheepish grin. "I used to look around at my life," he said, "everything I have, everything this world just...hands me, and I thought wanting one more thing was greedy. But I realize now it wasn't one more thing, it was the thing. So...I'm just saying...if it all goes away and you're what I come away from this mess with, it was worth it."

Michonne's lip quivered into her own smile, as she glanced down at the sheets between them. She was touched by his confession- more than he probably knew, given the fact that she'd spent the last year feeling like an accessory for someone else's success rather than the definition of it- but she had just learned a tough lesson about sitting back and taking what came, instead of reaching out for what you could have, and she didn't want to be his path of least resistance. "Rick," she said quietly, laying a hand on his arm. "This isn't a trade off."

"But if it is-"

"It's not," she repeated, looking him in the eye. "Happiness isn't something that's rationed out, Rick. Everything you have, you earned. Even this." She gestured between the two of them with a smirk, and he chuckled quietly. "You feel like your life is the result of some dice throw because no one ever recognized how hard you were working for it, but you did earn it. You made this happen. If you want it all, you can have it all. I know you can."

Rick sighed, moving the rest of their meal out of the way and reaching for her. "I do want it," he whispered against her hair. He leaned back against the headboard, and tugged her arm until she was back in his lap. "But that goes for you, too. Maybe we try to get your story published somewhere else."

"Mike's going to make things difficult for me," she said, leaning forward and letting him wrap his arms around her as she rested on his chest. "He knows a lot of people. And besides, I know Hershel meant well, but this wasn't the kind of assignment that was going to lead to the things I want to write about."

"Alright then," he said. "What do you want to write about? I know a lot of people too- comes with the territory- maybe I can finally put some of those connections to use."

"We're supposed to be hiding this," she said. "I can't have you making calls on my behalf. Besides, I appreciate it, but something Mike said stuck with me. I know you would never hold it over my head the way he did, but I want to do this on my own. For me."

Rick nodded, his eyes drifting off as he mulled that over. "I understand," he finally said. "The offer stands, though. There's no shame in letting people help you along the way. And you know, if you were in charge of my P.R., like Carol said, we wouldn't have to hide. We could be seen together...professionally."

"We're back to professional?" she laughed. "After all of this?" She pulled away to raise an eyebrow at him before glancing at their intimate position.

"You just said I could have it all."

"Yes," she laughed, leaning in to kiss him. "I did."

…

The next morning, Rick lay awake listening to Michonne's quiet breaths as she slept beside him. He'd woken just behind the sun, but despite the early hour, he was going to have to leave her soon. He had a flight to catch for a four day stretch on the road, and he wanted to spend some time with Carl before he left. He smiled to himself, anticipating Carl's reaction when he found out he'd be seeing Michonne a lot more often, and he put the reunion at the top of his list for when he got home.

Michonne looked perfect laying there, curled on her side with just a thin sheet covering her curves. The only thing he wanted less than to wake her, was to leave without spending as much time with her as possible. He rolled onto his side and wrapped an arm around her waist, resting his head behind hers on the pillow and nuzzled his face into her hair. She stirred, her arm reaching behind her to touch his face.

"It's early," she whispered with a smile. She didn't open her eyes, and he took another glance at her bare skin, putting his resolve to the test before replying.

"I know," he sighed. "I wish I could stay, but I have a plane to catch." She finally turned to look at him with a stretch of her arms above her head and her toes curling into the mattress. The sunlight streaming through her drapes painted a pattern of mismatched shapes on her skin and he reached out to trace one with his finger as she spoke.

"When will you be home?"

"End of the week." It suddenly felt like an eternity. "I'm pitching tomorrow night."

"I know," she said, with a coquettish grin.

He shifted to accommodate his physical response to her early morning flirtation, and maybe the fact that she was keeping tabs on him. "You gonna watch me?"

"Of course. I've become partial to the sight of you in that uniform. Although, now I'm partial to this." She lifted the sheet, perusing his body the way he had hers, and he chuckled at her before another thought occurred to him.

"Maybe you shouldn't watch actually," he sighed. "It's my first away start since my suspension. Home crowd's been pretty kind, but we're back on Negan's old turf. I was lucky to be on suspension last time we were there."

"Are you worried?"

"A little," he confessed. "Losing an endorsement contract is one thing, but if I can't pull my numbers up, I'm gonna lose my spot in the rotation. The crowd's been getting in my head lately and I'm running out of chances with Morgan."

Michonne didn't try to say anything, instead she just tightened her hold on him. It was the same as when he'd told her about Lori, he realized, how with just a small physical gesture she could make him feel completely taken care of. She seemed to instinctively know what he needed. He wondered how that could be possible, but the last thing he was going to do was question it. He leaned into her, kissing the top of her head, but she was already pulling out of his embrace.

"Roll over," she said, pulling up to her knees beside him and letting the sheet fall away. He blinked a few times at the sight of her, trying to figure out what she was doing and praying he had time for whatever it was. "Come on."

"Alright." He held the sheet with one hand while he flopped over onto his stomach. He felt her hand on the back of his head, gently pushing him into the pillow and he obliged, bending an arm to rest his face on. His visual gone, he traced her movements by the dips in the mattress, until he felt her throw one leg over his waist, straddling him at the lowest part of his back. Her warm center on his skin and the swell of her ass against his had him grinding involuntarily into the mattress and he began to question how torturing him was going to help, but he stayed the course.

His budding excitement finally melted into relaxation when her fingers found his scalp, threading through his curls and lightly scratching at his skin. He let out a moan into the crook of his arm as she gently tugged at his hair with both hands, before moving them to the back of his neck and pressing her thumbs into the hollow points just below his hairline.

"What are you doin'?" he mumbled. It was mostly rhetorical; he didn't care as long as she kept at it, but she answered.

"Pressure point massage. This one is for concentration, focus, clearing your head. Stuff like that. Stay still."

"Where'd you learn that?" he asked, barely moving his lips for fear of disturbing her.

"I don't know," he felt her bounce and imagined her shrugging her shoulders. "I picked it up along the way. I find it helps with writer's block, maybe it will help with whatever is blocking you."

Rick raised his eyebrows. He'd heard of massage to loosen up his muscles, but he'd never experienced someone trying to massage his mind. He wouldn't know if it worked until he was on the mound, but he did know John Negan was the last thing he was thinking about at the moment. "It feels good," he said, as she increased the pressure and rotated the circles she was making in the opposite direction.

"Good."

"You travel? I could get you a flight." He was only half-joking, though he was pretty sure Hershel would have his head if he brought Michonne along after being told to lay low.

"Not that far, cowboy," she said. "But I make house calls."

He smiled into the pillow. "When I get back, then. Carl would love to see you again. Maybe we can hide out at my place for dinner."

"I'll be counting down the days," she said, easing her thumbs out of his hair and sliding her palms over his shoulders for a more traditional rub down.

He groaned in pleasure. "Me too."