Sometimes a writer is so nice, they get asked to do it twice. And that's exactly how we feel about comewithnattah . She is back to close out this story with the 10th year in the life of Rick and Michonne.
Be sure to check out her other stories on her FF page.
-We're The Ones Who Write.
The 10th year - Trying for a girl
Michonne and Rick face-timed their boys to say goodnight.
Years went by like chapters in fiction and they were getting so big.
Carl was excited about practicing for his martial arts tournament in a few weeks. His parents counted themselves lucky to have found him an outlet for all his rambunctious energy. Michonne liked to blame his unruly behavior on Rick, but the truth was Carl was a pistol like her, never able to keep still, always ready to instigate, to tackle, conquer. While Andre was easy going like his dad. He was their little swimmer. Like water, always ready to adapt or go with the flow. Swim classes turned to swim meets and Michonne was proud to have two medal winning sons who took pride in their skill.
She liked her little ones' work ethic and determination. Rick liked to see them outdo their opponents, mainly because it got his wife worked up and he loved to hear her talk smack about their matches. Lucky for him she kept that kind of arrogant talk out of the boys hearing to ingrain a sense of humble sportsmanship in them. But when they were alone in their bedroom, after another trophy went up on the shelf, the thrill of victory almost always got him laid.
Michonne looked at Carl and his almond-colored skin and Andre, the color of a sweet pecan swirl. She fought back tears as she thought about how well her nutty little guys were turning out. How, if anything should ever happened to her, they would still be okay in the world. That thought crossed her mind more and more these days. In solitary moments she tried to focus on positives to stave off the creeping spectre of depression. Seeing her sons side by side, grinning in their PJs and telling her about their day was a good antidote for negative vibes.
Still, Michonne put on her serious face and told them not to give her good friend Maggie a hard time. She was so grateful that Maggie had agreed to watch the boys for the weekend, but Michonne knew her friend was a pushover. And Carl would definitely take advantage of that if he thought he could.
Michonne's mom was the usual babysitter for their annual weekend getaways. She had watched the boys last year and every year before. They moved into their dream home two years ago and, coupled with support from his wife, its completion gave Rick another reason to feel like the king of the world after his injury at work. Mrs. Fraser added her own touches to the mother-in-law suite they attached to the house. The convenience of having her mother there in the house with them was always a comfort to Michonne in her busy life. She knew without that support, she would have never made partner.
But her mother took none of the credit as she beamed the very next year, watching Michonne head off to her celebratory dinner and weekend. She just kept repeating how proud she was, how stunning Michonne looked, how lucky Rick was. But that was the last time she would sit for her grandsons. They were grateful for Maggie but she was no Judith Fraser.
When he got back to the room, Rick had been quick to strip down to his t-shirt and boxers in answer to the heatwave outside. Michonne's answer had been given all day in her lack of any underwear or bra, whatsoever. His back against the headboard, Michonne had settled between his legs, putting Rick in the phone's camera view as she laid against his chest. She remained in her red sundress that flounced around her thighs all day, but she did pop open the buttons at her bustline to make it easier for her crowded 'girls to breathe' and her husband noticed the sudden drop in oxygen in the room. But currently his mind was on the bedlam at his house.
"Talk about baptism by fire." Rick said in jest at Maggie's current woes as the video call ended with Maggie hollering for Carl to come back.
Michonne chuckled as she tossed her phone to the side, "You think she'll survive one more night?"
"You think you will?" Rick teased her ominously, as the vibration of his voice spread from her ear and into her spine making her squirm between his legs.
"Mmmm," she moaned in approval of his decadent timbre, "I think I've been keeping up. Been waiting for you to recover, as I recall." Michonne painted on a version of Rick's southern drawl to mock him. "Gimme ten minutes, princess…" she referenced the string he always attached to another round.
She paid dearly for the insult as her husband used his wiggling fingers on her ribs for a change. Thrashing away from the ticklish torment, she threw herself out of his arms and back onto the bed. He relentlessly chased her down, pinning her lower half to the mattress with his own.
Lately, as a marriage ebbs and flows, Rick and Michonne had been going at it like rabbits. It wasn't the novelty of a new lover, the excitement of a proposal or even the haywire hormones of pregnancy. Although, in the history making coordinates of the Sheraton's room 2469, they enjoyed each other over and over again unaware of the third little life already nestled cozy and warm in the walls of Michonne's womb, too recently planted to be a factor in their desire.
Rick's simplest desire was to see his wife enraptured. He just wanted to erase the worry that kept building up between her brows whenever she thought about her mom. And she wanted him to... needed him to be inside her, making her forget about all the things that can be snatched away. She needed the distraction of his steadfast love, grinding her sorrow into oblivion.
She needed him.
You could have asked if she needed Rick months ago and she would have answered quickly and assertively yes. But she didn't know how much she needed him. It was cruel of life to teach her this way. But she still found herself thankful for the lesson. Grateful for the twining thread that would bind them closer together no matter how painful the stitch. She knew that like her mother's love would always follow her, so would Rick's.
Her mother gave her life, and many of her genetic proclivities. But Rick, her cherished and charming prince, her King, gave her a life.
The life she wanted.
Every rock they found in their garden, they used to make the foundation stronger. They found beauty in every weed and though it was impossible to keep the rain from falling, they both used the storms to grow and rejuvenate.
Her squealing laughter quickly dissipated as he slowed his assault to look at her. His beckoning blues traversed every lush silky slope and perfect rounded peak on her face.
"What?" she asked wondering what had suddenly changed the playful mood.
"You're a beautiful woman, Michonne." he answered her in a much more solemn tone. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on and I hate to see you in any pain." He whispered tenderly, needling the long stray locks falling across her shoulder, nuzzling his face into hers. "I need you to know that we're gonna be alright and get through this. You believe that don't you?"
The evening of dinner and a movie, a movie with no talking animals or magic, had been fun and carefree. The only disappointment was the IRS notice in front of Dale's gallery publicizing a lien and the confiscation of the property. But as soon as Michonne saw it she was on the phone with the best tax lawyer she knew, giving him info on the property and the mandate to fix this as a favor to her ASAP. The rest of the night had been happy inside jokes, teenage level flirting and tawdry episodes of PDA. She wasn't quite sure what was triggering his moment of introspection, now.
What Michonne was sure of is that, after ten years of making love to this man- feeling him blaze against her skin, gobble her down and break her apart- the intimacy of contemplative whispers during foreplay brought her a kind of erotic comfort. The words coming from their hearts made the nakedness of their bodies even more exposed, even more vulnerable. Being able to strip to the warm bursting aura of their souls, before evoking their white hot blinding release, ruined Michonne for sex with anyone other than Rick for the rest of her days.
His rough palms grazed her cheek on a path down her neck to rub his thumb in a lazy trail along her collarbone. She answered him with curious eyes. "Of course, I do. I wouldn't be able to keep it together if I didn't trust that." she said, nearly wincing at the strength of her conviction. She watched relief wash over his stubbly face as if he could have expected a different answer. But she knew Rick Grimes. Sometimes he just liked to hear the words come out of her mouth. So she gave him more, twirling one of his curls around her finger. "Mom said she stopped worrying about me after the day you kidnapped me from work at gunpoint."
Rick rolled his eyes as the clear memory of that day made him blush and trigger his crooked smile. "Wow. You have an active imagination… at gunpoint?"
"You were carrying your gun."
"But I never pointed it." He stressed. "I was prepared to, though."
"Oh, trust me, I've never seen Negan shook like that." she giggled at the scene replaying in her mind, "Everybody knew you meant business.
"Well, you needed to rest. You were just gettin' over the flu, still weak…"
"I just needed to do one thing. I was only going to be in there an hour tops…"
"But I told you not to go at all." Rick interrupted her defense with the same Zeus-like thunder he used all those years ago. His hand was now in possession of one fully ripe breast over the thin red fabric of her skimpy dress, his thumb performing the same stroke over her tightening nipple that her collarbone had enjoyed.
"Well, Mom agreed with you." Michonne acknowledged as she closed her eyes and reflexively spread her legs a bit more. "Whenever I call her to complain about simple stuff, the first thing she asks is 'What does Rick think' or 'What did Rick say' or 'Tell Rick, he'll handle it'. And you always did." She said, opening her eyes again to pull him into her adoring garnet-colored gaze. "You always do."
Hearing her express her confidence in his job as a husband and father made him think about what he was trying to deliver for her in those roles. He knew it might be a little harder to make good on their plans this time around. "You know, if it doesn't happen nothin' changes. We can try all that fertility stuff… but if it doesn't take, nothin' 'tween us changes. We kinda fell off our schedule anyways when we found out about your mom. You're probably too stressed right now to add anything else to your plate."
Rick's pressed his palm lightly over her navel and as if he released a secret lever all her desire began to pool just below his pinky resting on the plump flesh of her mound. Her hips rolled on instinct and, though she was with him in his assessment of their situation, his touch already had her spellbound. She would have drunkenly bought into whatever his sexy small town twang was pitching.
They decided to try for another baby right after Michonne made partner. She had made it to the top tier and she wanted to enjoy the fruits of her labors. Michonne looked forward to making the big decisions without stressing over the minutiae of every moving part and spending more time with her guys. She wanted to experience a pregnancy unfettered by a lackey's deadlines.
"I know." She arched her back, exposing her neck and Rick followed her cues obediently. His soft, warm tongue moving slowly over the sensitive skin there. He ended each lick with the strong suction of his lips. She gasped when he bared his teeth over those same pulsing spots under her ear. "I'm not stressed though. I know we'll …" she gasped again when he crushed his heavy, rock hard cock directly onto her beating clit through the thin fabric he wore, " we'll... get there."
In tune to the pitch of her moans, Rick pulled away from her, cool and collected, guiding her dress up and over her head. She was completely naked before him. Her breasts bouncing free from the elastic ruching of her dress, her ready center still slick from his finger's exploration of her tight little pussy in the dark of the packed theater earlier. Her scent was still concentrated on his fingers and he'd found himself stealing shameless whiffs of them since the end credits.
"I'm still having dreams about her…"
"About your mom?" He asked, affection brimming in his articulation as he removed what little he wore.
Michonne shook her head in answer, "No. Your daughter."
"Tell me 'bout her." Rick encouraged, attentively... tenderly as he suckled one breast, then the other, hungrily. He enjoyed her sensitivity to the stinging sensation on her dark pebbled peeks and he smiled anticipating the subtle physical tells her body would soon exhibit. "The dream still the same?" Leaving listless bites beneath the underside of her pillowy dunes, he made his way lower.
"Yes." Michonne smiled happily. She kept having dreams of her holding a tiny baby girl in her arms. She was having it more frequently, lately. It always felt unearthly. The mother of two had only ever conceived twice- no real complications, no miscarriages. So she knew the baby in her dreams was no echo from a pregnancy past. Besides, she could feel this little girl was her future…
… as sure as she could feel Rick's fingers slowly parting her folds, slowly invading her slit, slowly pumping and massaging her innermost buried treasure. "She… mmm…" Michonne moaned when he slurped her bud between his lips, sparking her legs to tense instantly through involuntary motor response. Still, Rick kept a well-executed pace with his languidly skimming swirls over the pampered, hooded treat. He didn't want to steal her breath just yet.
He let her enjoy the measured passes of his tongue before reminding her to speak from his wet workstation below, "Tell me, princess."
"She... always... looks like you." Michonne mewed into the cool, dark room. "Even more… than Carl does."
"That aint fair." Rick said matter of factly, closing in on his mecca. "You dream about 'er tonight, you tell 'er, her daddy wants to meet 'er, too." Rough hands squeezed her deluxe, curvy thighs for emphasis.
"You're gonna meet her, Rick…" Michonne's breath hitched as her husband licked into her center, deeply on the very first drag through her candy coated entrance. She caught him by the hair now. "... Real soo… soon. I just have… a feeling." She crushed her lip between her teeth as a whimper seized her. Running out of words, her muddled moans replaced conversation as Rick's exacting tongue slipped quicker and harder inside. She ran headfirst into the height of pleasure, shattering, and sending a caressing wave of nectar over his tongue.
Rick moaned his approval as he continued to pull out every drop of her sweetness. "Oh, God." suddenly became all she could say and it fell from her lips a dozen times as he wiped his palm from nose to chin and settled over her jerking frame.
"Let's see if we can't get 'er here." He said with a tender resolution and a commanding glint in his eye as he finally took purchase of her silken, milky canal. Rick set to wind his muscled hips in a serpentine style that threatened to wear a groove into the firm mattress top. He drove her lower back deeper and deeper, drilling deeper and deeper. His raspy grunts went deeper and deeper. His stunning wife, so valued and cleaved to, swept him deeper and deeper into the padded room of her love where a stockpile of explosives lay, waiting for a madman to detonate.
Rick sighed powerfully over her name on a sinfully sweet stroke, "Michonne… I want to see another one of my children in your arms… so… bad. Just picturin' it makes me wanna cry." He said sweetly as he ravaged her walls like a beast ramming the bars of a cage. "But I'm already so grateful…" his eyes misted from all the emotion in the room, born of blessing and of burden. "I love you, princess… Always will."
"I love you, too, Rick."
Michonne pulled him closer when a tear speed away from her mesmerizing dark eyes and her husband watched it disappear like he knew any gloom on her heart would with a few more targeted thrusts. His back paid the price as his deliciously furious cock collided with the spot that had been a no man's land before him, her nails leaving crimson trails across his skin.
The tightening of her muscles nearly stopped his movement, but he knew this was not the time to slack up. It was the time to charge her gushing walls, tax her surging center and then hijack every single sparking synapse that God had put under his immediate control.
They both crashed over passion's highest cliff, out of their minds in love and into the decade-made ether of room 2469.