A/N: Thank you to all of those who read and reviewed. Let's check in with our faves…
Rick's POV
"You should go get cleaned up," I say to Michonne as I fix myself back into my pants and look toward the door. The knocking persists; she does as I advise while I straighten my clothing and then go to see who it is. As soon as I unlock the door, Spencer is standing there looking, for want of a better description, fuckin' stupid.
"What?" I ask, blocking his way.
"Here," he says, holding the bag that contains the machine we use to count the money. "You left this in the car. I thought Emm might need it."
I take it from him, and then slam the door in his face without another word. I place the bag down on the table, and then retrieve the device. After plugging the lead into the socket, I switch it on. Soon, Michonne steps out of the adjoining bathroom. She comes to me and I wrap my arms around her waist.
"You sure everything is okay?" I ask, searching her eyes.
"Yes," she answers, resting her head to my shoulder and nuzzling close to my neck. "Everything's okay."
I wish we could stay like this forever, alone and wrapped in one another's embrace. We remain like that for a while. I breathe in the scent of her hair; she breathes softly, delicately. The world spins around us, and for that brief moment, we are the only two people inhabiting it. Soon, our solitude is broken when Negan and Simon return.
"Shit," he says, as Michonne and I draw apart. "I hope I'm not interrupting your romantic moment with this arms deal."
"You're late," I say, reluctantly stepping away from Michonne, and over to Negan.
"Sorry about that," he replies with a grin. "I do like to make an entrance."
"Have you got the cash?" Michonne asks, stepping forward.
"Hello to you, too, darlin'," he offers. I don't like the way he looks at her; I take hold of her hand.
"Negan," I warn. "The money?"
"Got it right there," he says, gesturing toward Simon, who then holds up a briefcase.
"Bring it over here," Michonne advises; she is happy to see the note counter atop the small table, all ready for the transaction. She lets go of my hand, and proceeds to saunter over to where the machine is set up. As she takes a seat, Simon places the case down. "It's all here?"
"Yes," Simon replies.
"Forgive me if I don't take your word for it," she answers with a smile.
"You're forgiven," he says, taking a seat opposite her. She removes the money and begins to place it in the machine. I watch their exchange; Negan watches me.
"Simon likes your old lady," he says, as he comes to stand next to me. I know he is trying to get a reaction from me; I bite my tongue. We have a job to do.
"Not that I blame him," Negan adds with a whistle. "She is somethin' else."
"You think we could do this without the small talk?" I ask, keeping my eyes on Michonne.
"We could," he replies. "But I'm trying to get to know you, Rick. I know nothin' about you, other than what I've heard."
Now I turn to look at him, before I query, "What's to know? I'm just tryin' to take care of business here."
"So, we're both business men," he laughs; I am certain he is unhinged.
"Honestly, I don't know anything about you," I say, engaging him in this conversation he is so adamant in having. "You know what business I'm in, and I don't know the first thing about yours."
"So you do wanna get to know me?" he exclaims, almost excitedly. "Well shit; ain't that just swell?"
"I'd like to know the basics, I suppose," I offer flatly. "If we're gonna keep this business arrangement goin', we should at least know the basics. I assume you'll be wanting more merchandise after this?"
"You assume right," he replies, licking his lips.
"So, what do you need this much firepower for?" I question him straightforwardly. "What have you got planned for it?"
"I like you, Rick," he says, patting a hand against my shoulder briefly; I tense up. "But I can't talk about that here…"
"Your man checked us over," I say, trying to urge him on. "This is your place; it's safe to talk openly."
"You make a good point, Rick," he offers in response. He has a glazed over look in his eyes when he smiles; I supply him with a small, crooked grin in return. I don't like him, but I will get him to talk one way or another if it means Michonne won't have to. "So how about I show you what I need it for?"
"When and where?" I ask. I am still a little suspicious of his seeming forthrightness.
"Maybe in a day or two?" he queries. "You and your lovely lady might like to join me at another one of my places? Give you a clearer understanding of my plan?"
I glance over at Michonne; she and Simon are chatting away, oblivious to what Negan and I are discussing. He wants to let us in, it seems. Half of me is paranoid that he wants to get us alone, away from my people, and do us harm. The other half of me knows that this is the opportunity we were hoping for.
"Okay," I answer, with a nod of my head. "Let's meet again, in a day or two."
…..
"Seems a damn shame to have to surrender all of the money from this latest sale," I say while leaning against the countertop in the guest house kitchen. Michonne gives me a questioning stare.
"Did you secure it?" she asks.
"Of course," I reply, as I make my way over to where she is sitting at the table. She has her laptop, and the note counting machine out. Using a small screwdriver, Michonne removes the battery panel at the back. I watch curiously, before asking, "Do you think it worked?"
She gives me an uncertain look and then answers, "I hope so."
Upon removing the panel, she takes out a USB lead that is connected to the device, and hooks it up to her computer. After making a few selections, and typing something in, I hear the faint sound of voices coming from her speakers.
"It's grainy," she says, turning up the volume. "But I can make out what we're saying."
I listen carefully, and find she is right: The note-counter-turned-recording-device actually worked. Though the words were slightly distorted from the sound of the money being counted, you can definitely hear what she and Simon were talking about.
Simon: It sure is a lot of money.
Michonne: Well, that's a lot of guns.
Simon: You're not wrong.
Michonne: What do you need all of them for?
Simon: Salvation.
Michonne: Salvation?
Simon: We're Saviors, little lady; it's kind of what we do...
After clicking something on her laptop to stop the recording, she smiles at me.
"Rick," she offers happily. "I think this is actually going to work."
…..
Michonne's POV
The cold shower was just what I needed. The day has been long for me. I step into Rick's room, and am a little startled to see him sitting on the bed, since I left him earlier with his men. He appears to be tired, though he gives me a warm smile.
"Hey," I say, while taking up a seat beside him.
"Hey," he replies, placing a hand to my bare knee.
"You okay?" I ask, a little concerned by his odd demeanor. He is quiet and subdued. I recognize it as worry.
"I'm sorry we didn't get time to talk about what happened while you were away," he says. "Do you think we can now?"
"Sure," I offer, with a little smile. "I don't want you to worry…"
"I care about you, more than anyone or anything. Of course I'm gonna worry about you," he interjects. I entwine my fingers with his. He's so sweet. How can he be so sweet when I know how bad he is? I have come to accept that it is the way he is. It is what I find attractive about him: The duality.
I beam at him as my heart swells, before taking a deep breath and admitting, "Someone ran a search on my name, my real name. My undercover status may have been compromised."
I watch as his eyes narrow and the vein in his temple pop out. He's angry. I can see it. I can feel it radiating from him. He sighs audibly before bringing the back of his hand to his mouth. He wipes at his lips, lets go of my hand, and then stands.
"Someone knows you're a Fed?" he asks, as he begins to pace.
"Maybe," I offer. "We're not actually sure how much information they accessed…"
"Was it your full name?"
"I…I'm not sure," I admit. "I was just informed by my superiors that my name was flagged. Why?"
"Deanna has connections," he says, stopping still a moment. "If the search was done of your full name, it might not have been her contacts in law enforcement. If it was just your first name, it was probably her."
"A search of my first name wouldn't bring anything up," I say. "If someone Googles me, results won't show up; but a law enforcement database search absolutely flags my name, so, in general, I don't exist anymore."
"You see how that's gonna be a problem if it was Deanna?" he asks as realization sets in.
"Yes," I reply. "It's going to look suspicious if she finds nothing at all."
"Right," Rick stated. "If she found some kind of evidence that a Michonne exists, then that's fair enough; but nothing? That's going to make her more curious."
"Or she might think it doesn't mean anything," I offer.
"Nah," he answers. "She's not like that; she's not one to just let something go like that. She'll be intrigued; she'll want to dig deeper. What else did they say in DC? Was it flagged in their system or in general?"
"It's flagged in our system," I explain. "Any time someone searches for my name in any law enforcement database, my handler is notified. It keeps me protected while I'm UC."
Suddenly, he falls silent in contemplation. His expression is serious, like always; but there is something behind his stare. If I didn't know any better, I would say it was a hint of panic.
"Fuck," says Rick, as he begins to pace again. "We have something else to worry about, then."
I think for a moment, and then it all adds up. I understand what he is saying.
"The dossier you have on me," I say. "It wasn't flagged when your contact accessed my information."
"That's right," he says, kneeling down in front of me. "And that can only mean one thing: Someone inside the Bureau must have sold you out."
"Why would they do that?" I ask. "I'm one of their assets; their agent."
"How else would my contact get your information, then, without them being alerted?"
"I don't know," I offer, not wanting to believe what this means.
"And why haven't you been pulled from assignment?"
I shrug. I honestly have no answers.
"Someone wants you here," he says softly, running his hands up and down my thighs. "And they want for you to be discovered…"
"You're being paranoid, Rick," I say, before standing and moving away from him.
"Am I, though?" he retorts, following behind me.
"It doesn't make sense," I say. "Why would someone from the FBI want to jeopardize this case and put me in danger?"
"I don't know," he answers, taking hold of my shoulders and turning me around to face him. "But I won't let them hurt you."
He cups my face and then traces his thumb over my bottom lip. I exhale as dread washes over me and my stomach starts to sink.
"If what you're saying is true," I say somberly. "Then there's not much you can do to protect me, Rick."
…..
Rick's POV
It's dark in my bedroom, save for the light from my cell phone. It's only just on midnight, and Michonne is snoring softly beside me. She's had a big couple of days. She must be exhausted. I'm so happy that she's back here with me. No one is going to ruin that for me, not right now. And I absolutely, positively do not care who they are. I find the contact I am looking for, and then call them. I listen to the ringtone, and then the voicemail message: This is Morgan Jones. Leave your details, and I'll get back to you.
"It's Rick," I say quietly. "I need to see you. It's urgent."
I end the call, place the phone back to the nightstand, and then lie back down in bed. I draw the covers over my naked lower half, and try not to rouse Michonne. It seems I have failed.
"Rick?" she whispers, her voice heavy from slumber.
"Shhh," I offer. "Go back to sleep."
She reaches for me, and takes hold of my hand, before wrapping my arm over her; she interlocks our fingers. Her back is to my chest; her ass is pressed against my dick.
"I can't," she offers, inching back closer to me.
"You need rest," I say, kissing her shoulder. "Try to."
"I'm not tired anymore," she pouts; she's being playful.
"What do you need me to do?" I query, kissing her neck.
"Help me out," she supplies, before bringing our hands down between her legs. We both rub her pussy with our entwined fingers. She grows moist quickly; almost as quickly as my dick gets hard.
I kiss her neck again and then whisper in her ear, "Hmmm, baby. So wet."
We both keep massaging her. She lets out a moan when I slip my fingers inside. I withdraw them and then focus on her clit; she stops her own ministrations.
"Don't stop," I command, as I bring her hand back to her sex. I press her fingers to her tiny bud, and then lift her leg. I slip my hand between her thighs, and find her dripping little pussy once more, before saying, "Rub that clit for me."
She does as she is told, while I pump two fingers inside of her slickened folds from behind.
"Ahhh, shit," she whimpers as I hasten my movements and go deeper. She matches my pace and thumbs her clit faster. Her juices drizzle down onto my hand as she rolls her hips, strums her clit, and is finger fucked by me.
"Come for me," I order, as I continue to impale her. I bite down on her shoulder a moment. "Come for me, hard."
"Hmmm, yes, Daddy," she replies, while grinding that ass on my big hard dick. I can feel her pussy walls clenching around my soaked fingers; I know she's creaming all over my hand. Her hips buck, and she lets out a little cry, before she comes.
I waste no time in shifting my position so that I am now kneeling between her legs. She is still coming on my fingers when I withdraw them, and put them in her mouth. She moans as she licks them clean. She keeps sucking them as I take my thick, veiny cock and slide it between her tight, sweet lips.
…..
Michonne's POV
Ohhh, god.
He brings my legs up over his shoulders and drives his dick into me. Hard and fast. Without mercy. My clit is still throbbing, and I feel like I'm going to explode each time he strikes it. My legs already feel weak. I've been pinned, and pummelling into this mattress for goodness knows how long. I've already come for the second time, but he won't let up. He grunts and keeps giving me the dick.
Fuck. This man knows how to fuck.
"Oh, Rick," I cry loudly. "Oh, shit."
"Fuck, baby," he moans. "You feel so fuckin' good. Hmmm, you're such a good girl for taking this."
He lets out a loud moan and drills me deep a couple of times, before resuming his previous pace. He hits my spot, and I swear lights flash behind my eyes.
"Ahhhhh, ah," I call out. His strokes go deep again, and I feel like I've never been so full. "FFucck."
I clench my eyes and he goes deep once more. My pussy is trembling; my legs won't stop shaking. I'm gushing.
I can feel it coming.
Oh fuck.
He rams his huge cock into me again. I've never been this wet before. My juices are running down to my ass. I can hear the sound of my wetness coating his length.
Fuck.
Oh.
God.
Ahhhh ah aaaaahh.
"Oh, Rick," I succeed in saying. "Just like that. Oh, yes! Just. Like That."
He smashes into me over and over and over. I feel the heat swirling. I feel my pussy tightening around his impossibly hard cock. And then it happens.
"Ohh, ffffffuccck," I scream, as my body shakes and I come; then, I squirt all over him. That's never happened before. It's almost too intense; too delicious. He doesn't stop fucking me, even though I am drenching and his sheets. "Oh, god; Rick. Please…"
He continues his thrusts, but asks, "You want more of this?"
I can't even order my thoughts right now. I am running on pure adrenaline and lust.
"Please, Daddy…"
My head is spinning. My pussy won't stop gushing. My entire body is alight. I've never felt like this before.
"Fuck," he breathes. "Say it."
"Please keep fucking me," I manage. He then lifts my lower half off the bed and drives his dick into me harder and faster. Another orgasms ripples through me. "Oh, god!"
"Stay with me, baby," he pleads. "I'm close."
"Please," I beg, feeling another orgasm approaching, as he grips my hips and rams into me harder.
"Hmmmmmm, fuck," he moans. "I…oh, fuck. Hmmmm Michonne."
He brings his thumb to my clit and strums it vigorously as he comes inside of me. I am so ripe that the small touch tips me over the edge once more, and I squirt again as he covers my body with his; his hot seed filling my womb. I can barely breathe as he plants kisses to my face and removes his cock from my aching pussy. He falls beside me, and reaches for my hand.
"Wow," he says breathlessly. "You're amazing. You know that, right?"
I don't know if I can speak, I've been fucked so good. I squeeze his hand and then say, "I'm sorry."
He breathes deeply, and then asks, "For what?"
"For making a mess," I say a little bashfully. "When I…That's never happened to me before…"
"Hey," he says, leaning up on his elbow. "Don't apologize. It was fuckin' sexy. You're sexy, okay?"
I can't help but smile as I reply, "Okay."
"Everything about you is amazing," he says. "I love everything about you. I love you."
I don't know if it is because my heart is still racing, or because of the unadulterated ecstasy that is washing over me, but I know what I am feeling right now. Threading my fingers through his hair, I bring his lips close to mine, and then whisper, "I love you, too."