Michonne slipped her hand into Rick's, and the stress of her day was gone. The touch of his fingers ignited a flame in her as she stepped inside, pulled in with a tug of gentle strength. The door clicked closed against her back, and Rick's face was inches from hers. She forgot how to speak and what to say, her body telling her only to breathe and to kiss him, the latter first, the former pushed aside, suddenly unimportant

"I missed you," he said gruffly, his blue eyes piercing, intimidating, and his words perplexed her, though she did smile. She had seen him only twelve hours before- hell, she had met him less than twenty-four hours before and he missed her. This man was already wrapped around her little finger, but she wasn't going to complain, and she wasn't going to lie for the sake of her pride or dignity- she had missed him too. " Are you alright?" he asked, panicked, seeing the torn sleeve and the smears of blood on the shirt she had borrowed. " Are you hurt?" The care in his tone, in his touch as he trailed his fingers along her arms and the span of flesh over her ribs- she nearly cried.

" I'm okay. It's not my blood." Rick squeezed her hand.

" What happened?" he asked. " You said you had a bad day. You weren't joking." Michonne shook her head and dropped her briefcase to the floor by the door.

" I don't want to talk about it," she said. The caress of his thumb across her knuckles felt better than anything she had experienced all day. She admired Rick's attire as they stood there quietly in the living room. He was still wearing that trademark gunbelt of his, a dark revolver hanging from his hip over faded black jeans. A tight brown t-shirt hugged his frame, painted against his arms and torso. He had a gorgeous body. It possessed precisely the right amount of hardness, his muscles defined but not excessive. She nibbled the inside of her bottom lip. He was such a distracting man, and it was a good thing, because all she wanted was to be distracted.

A humming moan left her, trapped against his mouth when she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He wasted no time parting his own, asking for her tongue and she gifted him with it, teasing his slowly, his upper lip in her mouth. They were already short of breath, and their bodies met roughly. Michonne ran her hand along his stubbled cheek, weaving her fingers into his silken curls and pulling him closer. Their kiss deepened quickly, growing sloppy and libidinous, grunts and breathy whimpers shortened by the exchange of tongue and locking lips. She inhaled the faint hint of liquor on his breath, Rick's arms latched around her waist, his fingertips sneaking into the hem of her pencil skirt anxiously. He pulled back.

"What's wrong?" he murmured, sensing a hesitation, his lids heavy, long lashes fluttering with desire.

"I was examining the mess on your porch," Michonne replied, caressing his cheek with her thumb. Her touch made his eyes close. "Did you have someone over?" Rick was barely paying attention. He dipped his head and buried his face in her neck and she felt him smile against her love bites, trembling when he kissed her there as tenderly as he could manage, a contrast to his gravelly moan and the pressing of his hardness against her lower stomach.

"Yeah. Went shootin' with my friend, Daryl. Came back and had some whisky after I damn near broke his nose."

" Did he drive?" Michonne asked, wondering why she cared. Her empathy was high for the day, she deduced. Watching someone cut their wrist will do that, I guess, she thought.

" Yeah, but I didn't want him to," Rick said defensively. " Asked him if I should call a cab. He flipped me off and drove away. He's not the type that likes to be looked after and fussed over."

"Think what you want. He's your friend, so you know him better than I do, but I don't think you should have let him drive." Rick seemed affected by her mild scolding, and her persuasion altered his attitude, causing him to frown.

"You want me to call him? Make sure he got home alright?" he asked. Michonne nodded sincerely, her expression solemn. "Jesus Christ, Michonne, I dunno how but you really make it impossible to say no to you." She smiled a little. Rick stepped even closer to her, wrapping his arm around her waist as he retrieved his phone and called his friend. Their eyes met and Michonne watched his lips move as he spoke.

"Yeah, Daryl?..." He paused to laugh. "Yeah, it does that. You alright?...Well, shit, I'm glad you did...Yeah, she's here now...Shut up. Glad you're okay. Yeah, we'll meet up this week. Bye." He hung up and slipped his phone into his pocket, smiling down at her. "There. Just 'cause you asked me to. Now...where were we?" He leaned down to kiss her again and she swatted at him, stepping away. He turned, smiling softly at her still, watching her.

"Rick," she murmured.

"Yeah?" He couldn't stop ogling her. Two buttons undone, her alluring cleavage sat gleaming, and a tight pencil skirt that should have been made illegal was hugging her thighs- she looked too goddamned good.

"I'm gonna stay here tonight...and spend tomorrow with you," she said. She didn't have to ask. She knew he would want the same. He swaggered over, his cowboy booted steps a loud rhythm on the wooden floors, his tongue racing across his lips and his brow raising.

"Is that a question?" he asked, his hands coming to rest on his hips, a faint smile on his luscious pink mouth.

Damn, he looks good, she thought. "No," she replied with a smirk. "I'm staying. I asked my friend to leave some of my things for me in the car tonight." He stepped closer, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"That sounds good to me," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her again. She bit down on his bottom lip, startling him, and he blinked down at her. "What?"

"Hold your horses, Sheriff. I really want to take a bath. I need to relax a little. Think you can wait a little longer for me?" Rick groaned.

"No," he replied. "But I'll wait if you want me to. I'm just gonna make you dirty once you're done. I can relax you better anyway." He smirked and she rolled her eyes, smiling a little. Rick led her into his master bathroom, giving her a towel to use when she was done. "I'll see you in a bit, I suppose," he mumbled, looking disappointed. " Hope you're okay." He closed the door behind him and Michonne was alone.

She had familiarized herself with his bathroom the night before. The tub had looked so inviting, and now she had her chance to unwind in it. She ran the water as hot as she could tolerate, knowing it would dry her skin but not caring. She filled the square, spacious tub, and went to snoop in the cabinet under the sink. It surprised her to find bubble bath soap in the cupboard, and she added a bit to the steaming water before undressing in a hurry. Stepping into the tub and sighing, she sank into the water with a slow bend of her body, immersing herself in liquid comfort. With a tip of her head, she settled back, turned the faucet off with her toes and closed her eyes. It was exactly what she needed; self-care in the quiet. She sighed again and began to bathe, singing an earworm she had played in the car on her ride back to Fulton County.

Petit peu de bleu

Petit peu de rouge

Ce soir on peint l'amour

Le noir, le gris

Est interdit

Ce soir on peint l'amour

Faut essayer

On sait jamais c'qu'on va trouver

Ce soir on peint l'amour

When she finished, she settled back again and kept singing, playing with her locs as they clung to her skin. Her heart and mind were heavy. She was grateful the next day would be a much-needed day off, but anxieties swarmed her when she thought past the weekend. Her voice echoing in the bathroom, the melody of her voice reverberating from the tiled walls and back into her ears, calming her a little more.

Ce soir on peint le fond

De notre amour profond

Ce soir on danse toute la nuit

Dis-moi ta couleur préférée

De cette couleur je trouverais

Une fleur pour mettre dans mes cheveux

Petit peu de bleu

Petit peu de rouge

Ce soir on peint l'amour

Fais-moi une étoile

Je te ferais un bateau à voiles

Ce soir on peint l'amour

She sighed, aching to leave her mind for a little while; to drown out her thoughts and worries with a little pleasure. But how? she thought. Michonne opened her eyes hazily, catching sight of a detachable shower head and biting her lip when a deliciously naughty thought crept into her brain. She stood and plucked it from its post and sank back down into the water again, flicking on the faucet and the switch to the shower head. She dunked it into the water with a greedy swiftness and gasped when the warm, spraying pulses hit her most sensitive bundle of cells. She melted, a foot lifted and outstretched as her toes began to curl. Her other leg jerked, her knee hitting the tub's edge and she turned her face into her shoulder as a moan of delight trickled warmly from her throat. She heard a faint and sudden knock at the bathroom door and her eyes fluttered open.

"Michonne? You okay in there? I heard somethin'," Rick asked. She smiled softly, knowing he had stayed in his room to wait for her; had been listening to her sing, unable to pull himself away. Her eyes closed again and another naughty thought came into her mind. "Is everythang alright?" Rick prodded, a hint of concern in his drawl.

"I need your help," she called, feigning distress, her voice a teasing lilt, her hips squirming under the pulses of warmth. She caressed her nipples with her free hand, a content smile turning into a gasp as it hardened beneath her wet thumb.

"You want me to come in?" Rick asked. She giggled.

"Yes." She heard the doorknob turn and she bit her lip in anticipation, eyes still closed, toes still curling.

Rick licked his lips and stepped into the bathroom, curiosity leaving him in momentary muteness. He stared when he caught sight of her. It took a second or two for him to realize what was going on, his brain operating far too slowly as it processed the arousing thought of seeing Michonne naked and slippery in his bathtub. She sat relaxed in a tiny sea of fluffy, white bubbles, her eyes closed, her head tipped back, her regal neck stretched and begging to be kissed. He blinked when she moaned softly and at last he noticed the silver hose and nozzle of his shower head was hidden- buried- beneath the suds, one of her long legs hanging from the lip of the bathtub, the prettiest toes he had ever seen curled in tensed rapture. She gasped, her hands moving slightly beneath the water and Rick finally realized what she was doing. He felt himself harden, his jeans suddenly strained and uncomfortable, heat trickling across his skin as he blushed red.

"Michonne..." he started, finally finding his voice but at a loss for words. He was jealous- jealous of a shower head. His cheeks burned beneath his itchy stubble.

"Shh," she murmured. "Get into the tub with me." Rick didn't need to be told twice. He took off his boots, throwing them aside, and he stripped so quickly that he didn't remember undressing, all nervousness gone and replaced with intrigue as he slipped into the tub behind her. She made room for him as he sat down, the water sloshing and nearly burning his flushed skin and he didn't even care. Michonne settled back between his thighs, her silky back pressed to his chest, and he felt her body heave a contented sigh, the sweet sound echoing in the otherwise quiet bathroom. Rick wrapped his arms around her as her head fell back against his shoulder and she moaned loudly. He had never been in the presence of a woman pleasuring herself before.

That's pitiful, his brain told him, an attempt of his self-doubt to wound his pride, but the thought was shooed away. He was glad, and grateful, for the opportunity to have a first-time experience with her, especially one of such nature. She seemed so comfortable with herself, despite being in his presence, as she let the warm pulsing water spraying from the shower head caress her where he ached to touch, to taste, to be buried within. Her long locked hair tickled his face as she writhed and he inhaled her sweet scent again, which presently held notes of his sandalwood soap. His mouth watered. He could feel the rigid tension in her shoulders dissolve a bit and he wanted to help ease more from her.

"Touch me," she moaned. He pressed his lips to her shoulder, running his hands up her stomach until his thumbs grazed her nipples, teasing them slowly until they hardened in the wake of his slippery touch. She moaned again. "I had such a bad day," she purred and he listened intently, relishing in her every word, kissing her neck with a flick of his tongue. "And I'm going to have a difficult week ahead of me...I might not be able to see you for awhile." She paused when her hips bucked and he saw her big brown eyes open slowly and then roll back in her head again.

" Tell me what you need," Rick whispered against her hair, aching to please her, to ease her stress. He was under the impression that she wasn't going to speak about what was bothering her- what had occurred and caused her so much strain, and though he ached to know, he didn't ask again. He didn't want to pry, or to burden her anew with the topic. And the thought of not seeing her for awhile saddened him, but right then, he only wanted to elicit moans from her mouth, to hear his name whispered from her lips, to feel her body against him as she came. "Just tell me what you need," he said again as he teased her nipples beneath the water. She gasped.

"I want you to fuck me. Until I'm not thinking about anything but how good you feel inside me. Until I can't speak. And then... fuck me some more." Rick closed his eyes as he absorbed her words, her tone lighting a fire deep in the pits of his stomach. He gladly accepted her request, lifting a hand to her chin, his thumb beneath her lip. She raised her head and looked at him, eyes veiled with lust, pupils large and dark and as captivating as endless space.

He guided her mouth to his and slowly kissed her, his other hand pushing the shower head away. He replaced the pulsing water with the firm touch of his eager fingers, finding the little bundle of her most sensitive nerves and caressing her there. He wanted to locate every place on her body that made her sigh, made her squirm, made her cry out his name.

He slipped his tongue past her lips as they parted with a moan. She tasted fresh, earthy, semi-sweet. Her legs jerked and she spread them wider, pushing his thighs against the tub to give him full access to herself. His fingers stroked her in slow, unhurried circles and she reached up, pulling at his hair as their kiss deepened. Rick groaned, his fingers exploring her until she quivered, her eyes rolling shut, her mouth falling open against his. He coaxed her tongue into his mouth and sucked it, playing her like an instrument until she sang for him.

Rick was beginning to love the way she came apart in his hands. He looked at her, self-satisfaction making him smile softly and blush faintly as he watched her writhe. Her skin glowed, her wet locs falling into her face as she squirmed, her hips bucking beneath the water, exhales turning to throaty moans and gasps of bliss. He pulled her tighter against him, wishing they could be closer still somehow, wrapping his lips around her earlobe and sucking, biting gently.

"Fuck," she sighed, wriggling. He applied more pressure to her soft, swollen little bud until her body jerked in his embrace. "Oh... Fuc-" she tried to speak, her body tensing, twitching, and he closed his eyes as she stiffened and came, shuddering against his hand. "Oh, Rick." Her sigh caught in her throat and she grinded her ass against him, her nails digging into his thighs. He smiled through the pain, pleased with himself for bringing her to climax with only his hand.

Michonne recovered slowly, sighing with contentment and she turned, positioning herself on her knees and facing him. She reached beneath the water and took his dick in her hand. He groaned, low and gravely in his throat, stunned by the sudden contact. His vision blurred as his carnality conquered him. She squeezed him, running her hand over his length slowly and he growled, wishing she would wrap those pretty lips around him. He lifted a hand from the water with a splash and cupping her chin as she leaned forward to kiss him.

When she slipped her sugary tongue into his mouth, he lost it, raising both hands to her cheeks and crushing her to him, moaning into her mouth and biting her full bottom lip so hard she nearly yelped.

"Come here," he barked. "Stand up in front of me." She stood, water rushing as she rose from its warmth and peered down at him and he marvelled at how willingly she heeded his requests; just as long as she was getting what she wanted. And he was going to give it to her...and much, much more. He watched the water slide down her deep brown skin, enhancing her luminescence, glistening, sparkling. He wanted to lap at every inch of her. He turned his attention to the apex of her thighs, licking his lips in anticipation, yearning to taste her, to feel her quiver under his tongue.

He rose, kneeling before her and his hands stroked her wet thighs, one grazing her ass as the other came forward to caress her folds with gentle touches. She shuddered against his fingers and he pulled back to look at her, admiring her. She was bare, not a patch of hair in sight and her pussy resembled a lovely brown rose, the petals flawless and coated with the rains of her bath and her arousal. He wanted the dew, the dulcet nectar on his tongue, his mouth watering for it like he was dying of thirst. She reached down, caressing his hair, petting his curls as he leaned forward and at last, his tongue met her slick folds, the first taste of her like that of a bitter honeysuckle. He groaned and his heart spasmed.

Soon, he was lapping at her eagerly and she was gasping, pulling at his hair and shuddering against him. He ran his tongue over her again and again, teasing her clit with kisses before he closed his mouth around it and sucked gently, applying just enough pressure to make her cry out. He sucked harder, reaching up and slipping his hand between her thighs.

"Open your legs," he growled. She widened her stance, though her knees were shaky and he smiled, flicking his tongue over her. "That's it." He eased a finger inside her slowly and she moaned, tightening her grip on his curls as he teased her. He took her clit in his mouth again and buried his face against her, inhaling her scent. He curved the probing digit, stroking the sweet spot that made her gasp, groaning when she suddenly came, coating his finger in her sticky sweetness. He slowed his pace as she clenched around him, her knees going weak as she whimpered his name. He slipped his finger out of her and stuck it in his mouth, sucking it clean eagerly and scooping her up before her knees gave in, his arm beneath her ass, a hand under her thigh.

He lifted her up, gazing up at her face, her big brown eyes opening slowly to look down at him as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He settled her back against the wall of his shower, staring up at her, captivated by her beauty. Her face was glowing from her state of bliss. "I'm gonna fuck you just like this, alright. Right here, right now," he whispered. She cupped his face, kissing him deeply and sighing into his mouth before she spoke.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

The sensation of Rick slipping inside her slowly and repeatedly was something she knew she was going to become addicted to if she wasn't already hooked. She wanted to scream. She didn't know how she had managed her restraint, her moans held back with chokes that finally erupted, tickling her throat.

He looked up at her through his lashes, running his tongue over her nipple slowly as he pounded into her. She gasped, feeling herself flutter and he did it again, his breath ragged and his sweat dripping from his brow. The drops fell onto her chest and tummy, his curls falling freed from their combed sections to tickle her skin as he lavished her nipple with his eager tongue.

He was different from the last time they were together. It had not gone unnoticed. He was far more aggressive, more unbridled. The blue in his eyes no longer held the torment she had seen the night before in the cab; flickers of violence had replaced it. It was angry azure with flecks of cold, crisp cerulean.

And she loved it. It thrilled her even more than their first time together. It made her bite her lip- made her want his thrusts to end with the hot evidence of his own climax spilled deep inside her. She couldn't believe how good sex was with him. She had imagined before that it might be, but she had not imagined it like this. They fit perfectly, their chemistry explosive and it made her weak with need. If he wasn't holding her so tightly, she would melt into a little pool at his feet.

Michonne watched him. There was something about the way he was looking at her, lost in her eyes, the way his jaw clenched, the way his brow furrowed. The way his eyes rolled shut occasionally as he enjoyed himself, buried inside her to the hilt and then sliding out almost completely, only to slam back into her again in a slippery fury. She heard it in his moans, felt it in the insatiable grasps of his rough hands.

She stared down at him, noticing the marks of her red lipstick covering his face and neck. She sank her nails into his shoulders, claiming him with more marks, evidence of the hold he had on her; the hold she knew she already had on him. She reveled in his dominance, willing her eyes not to shut as she began to shiver and moan again from his sweet torment.

" I'm gonna come," she choked, her body quivering, her legs shaking. Rick moaned, peering up at her with a look in his eyes that was frightening and it made her stomach flitter.

"Come for me then, darlin'," he said in a husky whisper. She whimpered in reply. The word was so endearing; sounded so sexy from his mouth, the second syllable a flick of his tongue on her nipple. Her eyes rolled shut for a moment until she heard him speak again. "Look at me," he demanded, biting her nipple, his nails sinking into her thigh. "Look at me." She gasped and opened her eyes again, catching his gaze. "And keep your eyes on me. I wanna see your face when I fill you up." His words make her weak, for it was just what she wanted. She was addicted; she knew she was and she didn't care. She would take every dose of him she could have. Her body began to sing, her moans raising an octave, a knowing tingle spreading over her breathless frame and tickling her nerves. She sensed her orgasm approaching rapidly as he slammed into her again and again.

"Oh...," she mewled, pouting. Rick leaned down, pulling her nipple between his teeth, flicking his tongue across the surface. Her eyes squeezed shut for a quick moment and she hoped he wouldn't see, opening them again quickly to look down at him, raising a hand to his wet nape, grasping and pulling at his sweaty curls.

He turned his head, resting his face in the valley between the peaks of her breasts and running his tongue over her, lapping up the tiny river of sweat and water that trickled there. The look of intensity on his face as he watched her, the way he held her gaze beneath his dark, fluttering lashes, his attentiveness to her, the steady onslaught of deliciously forceful thrusts caused her to let go completely and she thought for sure that she was dying.

But what a way to go.

She surrendered to him, the pinnacle of her pleasure making her cry out his name not once, but twice and she was astonished by the power and awe in her own voice as every atom fired like a piston. Warm, crashing waves swept her from reality for a long lingering moment. Her body jerked and her sighs sang, her wetness increasing and making his thrusts more slippery than before. All the while, her eyes somehow managed to stay open, fixed on his watchful gaze until the blue began to hide behind his lids, his eyes rolling shut for a moment. They opened again slowly, now darkened and filled to the brim with hunger and the expression on his face became like that of a lion on the prowl with a ravenous appetite on the verge of being sated.

He growled like an animal, his teeth bared as he bounced her on his length greedily, his uninhibited passion making her whimper, his thrusts prolonging her climax. He sank into her a few more times before his release struck him in a trembling, frenzied rush. He moaned loudly, clinging to her as he came, squeezing her tightly and emptying himself deep inside her. His heated release made her bite her lip and she stared into his bright blue eyes as he gifted her with exactly what she wanted in the midst of her own fluttering pleasure. He thrusted with desperation, his hand clutching her ass and she held on for dear life, her arms around his neck, her legs tight around his waist. She grinded against him and they kissed frantically, teeth clashing as they came together, tasting each others moans and grunts of ectasy as spasms rocked their sweaty frames.

They savored the feelings rushing over them, wrapped in a breathless embrace, bare, sweaty bodies pressed together as they kissed angrily, sloppily and Michonne already wanted more. She fisted her hands into his hair, biting his lip so hard she thought it would bleed and he growled, his tone trembled when he spoke.

"I can't get enough of you," he said, lifting his free hand from the wall of the shower, clinging to her and stepping out of the tub with her wrapped around him like a vine. He pushed the door open and she could feel his body shaking as he walked into his room, crawling into his bed with her, the sheets sticking to their damp skin, both of them still breathless from their shared euphoria.

"Good," Michonne whispered in reply. She didn't want it to end yet. All she wanted was to be in his bed for the rest of the night; for the rest of the weekend, waiting for the next thrust.

"I don't know what you're doing to me," he said against her mouth when they began to kiss greedily again, settling into his bed, hovering over her. He sank back inside her slowly, the breath of her gasp tickling their lips and he found his rhythm easily, taking his time, making her writhe, rendering her speechless. Her eyes rolled shut and she thought of nothing else, nothing except how good it felt to have him buried inside her.

She savored every inch of him, crying out for more when he pulled away and crying out again when he slid back inside her. The way he moved, the way he was making her feel; it was all so perfect. She sighed and opened her eyes. He was watching her, blue eyes bright, a little smile on his lips and she reached up, caressing his cheeks, his stubble gritty against her palms as she ran her tongue over his bottom lip and kissed him.

"You're beautiful," Rick whispered. "Have I told you that?" Michonne tried to catch her breath.

"No," she gasped as he drove his hips once more, gliding into her. Her head tipped back and she felt his tongue and lips on her neck.

"You're beautiful," he said again, breath hot on her skin. Her eyes rolled shut. Slowly, she trailed her hands down his back and when she reached his ass, she gripped him and pushed him deeper. Rick obliged, hitting repeatedly her hot sweet spot, his hard body grinding against her, his Adonis belt pressed against her clitoris. Michonne thought it impossible to feel so good. His eyes trained on her face, Rick never stopped gauging or aiming to please. He kissed her with such compassion despite the filth of his manner and suddenly, realizing that everything was awful and that she had nothing good in her life to go home to- that this man she had only known for a day was her relief- it was her turn to cry. Michonne hid her face in her hands, but Rick grabbed her by the wrists and raised her arms above her head. He locked his strong hand around hers and held them to the pillows, slowing his pace. " Shh-shh. Don't cry. Are you okay?"

" Yes," Michonne nodded at the blurry, gorgeous man above her. " Don't stop." With his free hand, Rick wiped away her tears, dipping to kiss her. And then, he reached down and slipped his hand beneath her, cupping her ass and spreading her wider. He groaned as he sank deep into her warm, wet cunt. She didn't have to be embarrassed. He wanted to see every facet of her, tears and all.

" Tell me you needed this as much as I did," he murmured, teasing her tongue with his own.

" Yes," she whispered back. " I did. I needed you."

Even better, Rick thought. " And I needed you," he said back. He bowed to suck at her breast and pound into her with greater force, and he whispered wild, dirty things, his tongue retracing its path to dominate her mouth, his dick filling her completely. She fell apart, spilling over, flowing over, closing her eyes, lamenting as her body shuddered, and Michonne knew she was done for.

" I'm coming," she declared in a choked whisper, " Rick. Oh, Rick." And Rick let her ride her pleasure out before starting up again. She did not speak for what felt like hours...until once more, he coaxed his name from her lips, and she sighed it repeatedly. It tasted better than anything that ever coated her tongue.

•••

Michonne lay panting on her side, her arm across Rick's chest as she tried to recover from her fourth climax in the last three or so hours. Rick pulled her closer to him, his arms around her glowing body.

"You okay?," he asked. She nodded softly. "I'm sorry," he mumbled against her hair, stroking her skin. She lifted her head.

"For what? Why are you apologizing?" Rick laughed.

"I dunno. You don't think I'm overwhelmin' you, am I?"

"In what way?" she asked, sighing contently as she rested her face in the crook of his neck.

"We just met and we haven't... I can't keep my hands off you long enough to get to know you... You know... other than getting to know what makes you scream my name." He paused to smirk. "I just wanted to know how you feel about it." Michonne met his eyes, smiling that breathtaking smile of hers and curses nearly left his lips.

" Tell me what you want to know about me," she murmured, her voice seductive and low, weary from their activities. Her finger trailed over his chest. Rick slipped an arm behind his head, pondering, their introduction into each other's lives the previous night coming to mind. The way she moved flawlessly across the dance floor, against him.

"Hmm, where'd ya learn how to dance?" he asked. Michonne giggled. "What?"

"The first question is already of a sexual nature. I thought you wanted to divert from that," she laughed and Rick smiled, enjoying the sound. Michonne shook her head at him.

"How's that sexual?" he asked. Michonne rolled her eyes.

"I saw the way you looked at me when I danced," she said. Rick raised a brow, pinching her playfully.

"You were the one tryin' to seduce me."

"Trying?" she asked, feigning offense. "I succeeded." He grinned.

"Answer the question, Michonne."

"I guess I just know how to dance, I suppose. I just let the music take me away," she said. " I've taken classes, too. " Rick listened to her, a thousand more questions on his mind and no idea which to ask her next. But he still couldn't stop thinking about how sweet her voice sounded when she sang in ecstasy, the way her body writhed against his, the way she gasped and cried, the way she tasted, the look on her face when he had made her come again. And again. And again. He bit his lip, chewing it, reaching up for a moment and scratching his growing stubble.

"Where are you from?" he asked. "I bet you're a city girl." Michonne smiled.

"I am, country boy," she teased. He didn't even have to tell her whether he was or not. She knew and it made him smile. "I was born in New Orleans, but I've lived a few other places in the south; here and in Florida and in South Carolina for a little while. I even lived in France for a few months after I graduated. Took sculpting while I was there. I went to undergraduate school in South Carolina and to law school in Conneticut after that."

"What school?" Rick asked, impressed already, envious of her, knowing she was experienced and worldly and that he'd only ever lived in Georgia, stuck here in Cynthiana, King County all his life, shoveling shit as a kid, hunting with his dad as a teenager and attending the police academy as a young man, marrying his ex wife when he was twenty-four while Michonne was sculpting, studying law and traipsing about France, purring the romance language and breaking hearts.

"Um." Michonne was shy, tentative. " Yale," she finally returned, shifting against him. "Those were eight very demanding years of my life." Rick's eyebrows raised.

"Yale? Eight years? Shit..." he mumbled. He couldn't imagine being as dedicated to school as she had been for such a long period of time, and at such a prestigious school. "Didn't you do anything for fun?" he asked, nonchalantly hinting at relationships and wondering who was lucky enough to have been with her then- wondering if she would notice the hidden meaning behind his inquiry.

"I took fencing in my free time while I was there. The woman you sort of met last night, Andrea; we met at Yale, so we've been best friends ever since then. Started my firm with her. And we spent time together. I read books, sculpted a bit," she told him, and, catching onto his hint of curiousity, she replied, "And yes, I had a couple boyfriends while I was in school. Here and in France..." She trailed off, grinning when she looked up at him. "Yes, I read your mind and I know what you're hinting at. You jealous?" He swallowed, staring into her eyes.

"Kinda wish I'd met you a long time ago." Michonne was quiet for a moment and he cursed himself for saying such a thing. "You gonna ask anythang about me?" he said, shifting the focus.

"I know a lot about you, just from guessing," she said. "But I'm just a little curious about one thing..."

"Ask me," he replied, wondering if he was truly so predictable or if it was only the sense of intuition he had begun to notice Michonne so keenly possessed.

"How long were you married?" she asked, tossing her locs away as they obtructed her vision. And she stared at his mouth as he spoke. Their gazes met, eye contact intensifying. He wanted to look away but he couldn't, almost embarrassed by her question.

"About fifteen years... I was only twenty-four when we got married," he croaked.

"Wow," she murmured and he nodded slowly.

"You're the first woman I've been with since my wife," he blurted, longing to punch himself in the face immediately thereafter. Michonne sat up, puzzled by his confession. She turned her head and stared down at him.

"Wait, what?" she asked. "You mean... I'm the only other woman you've slept with? Haven't you had any other girlfriends?" Rick joined her upright stance, studying her expression and feeling flustered, his skin prickling as he blushed.

"Yes, but we didn't- we weren't... intimate. Why do you look so surprised?" he asked, a hint of nervous laughter leaving him. Michonne shook her head and smiled.

"I just-. You seem... experienced," she murmured.

"You mean...?" He motioned to the bed, the sheets and pillows haphazardly rustled and tossed about from their hours of romping. Michonne giggled.

"Yes, that's what I mean. Are you serious?" she asked, and Rick nodded sincerely. She grinned and Rick smiled back. "Well, you fooled me," she said, biting her lip, crawling towards him, straddling him and pressing her naked body against his. He raised his hands, admiring and caressing her skin.

" Is that a bad thing?" he asked, almost worried. Michonne shook her head.

"No, I'm just surprised."

"I just think we're really good together," he confessed and she did not respond. "I bet I'm better than your little college boyfriends and french lovers." Michonne erupted into giggles, and he felt his pout intensify, but he loved the sound and wanted more.

"Rick Grimes, your jealousy is charming." He blushed harder.

"I am not jealous," he grumbled defensively, reaching out to tickle her. She giggled some more, nodding through her laughter and Rick tried hard not to smile, her lilting snicker endearing and warming him, her giggles louder as he tickled her bare flesh. He sat up, wrapping his arm around her waist and turning over as she laughed. "Turn around," he said when he was on top of her and her giggling ceased when he made it obvious that he was being serious, possessive desire in his voice again.

"Why?" she asked, but still turning over to lay prone on her stomach nonetheless, her body completely straight, her perfect ass in view. Rick positioned himself over her, caressing her skin with one hand and cupping her ass greedily, his weight propped up on his other hand, his arm tensing. She rested her cheek against his pillows so that he could look down at her face, sighing as he kneaded her skin.

"I'm gonna make you forget about every other man that ever had you before I did, Michonne." His whispered wish pressed to her ear, he slipped himself inside her from behind. She gasped as he filled her and he groaned in response when he realized how wet she still was. He started to move, his thrusts steady, his feet on either side of her ankles, his body aligned with hers, his weight on his hands placed next to her head.

"Oh... fuck," she whimpered. Her mouth hung open, her eyes shut, and he could already feeling her tightening and fluttering around him. He reached beneath her, finding her clit with his fingers and massaging her in rhythm with his thrusts and she surrendered to him in a matter of minutes, crying his name into his pillows, melting into his sheets with sighs that gave him butterflies as he brushed her locs away from her face and pressed a tender kiss to her ear.

When she recovered, he pulled out of her and collapsed beside her with no need for his own climax. Something about pleasing Michonne was so satisfying. He felt calm- at peace- and he hoped he had sated her enough to relax her and take her mind off of her worries and trials. She sat up, her expression drowsy, but she smirked, still gazing at him as though she wanted more. She stradled him, taking him by surprise.

"Aren't you tired?" Rick asked, eyeing her. He stroked her skin and thought of the dream he had of her, playing out for him in real time and he couldn't be happier. She reached down and grasped him firmly, running her hand over his length, pressing his tip against her. His breath hitched and his eyes closed.

"A little," she murmured. "and sore." She began to giggle. With the exception of talking and making love, it was all she had been doing: laughing. "But I want more," she greedily murmured. "Don't you?"

"Yes," he choked, opening his eyes precisely as she slipped his aching shaft inside her with slow, delicious ease, enveloping him in her silky warmth. A moan escaped him. "I dreamt...of you..like this...today," he breathed as she began to ride him. The giggle continued, and, leaning down, she closed her full lips over his.

"I met you yesterday and you're already dreaming about me?" she whispered, smiling into their kiss. Rick was unashamed to admit it and did so again.

"Yes. I couldn't stop... thinkin' about you," he said. Breaking their kiss, she sat up and Rick stared as his dream became a reality before his eyes. She glided over him, her hips circling and he groaned, reaching out and running his hands over her skin, marveling at the constract of his own pale flesh against her regal, brown complexion, her flat stomach, her slender waist, the darkness of her nipples. They begged for the attention of his mouth once more and he granted their wish, sitting up and flicking his tongue over one and then the other.

She grinded against him, her eyes closed, her full lips parted. A noticeable shiver raced down her spine and he pressed her body against his, his ear against her sternum as he cupped her breast and ran the tip of his tongue over her nipple slowly. He reached down and squeezed her ass hungrily with his other hand, kneading her, losing himself inside her.

She leaned down suddenly, dipping her head and pressing her lips to his neck. She dusted his throat with kisses, slow, soft pecks that made him moan and it seemed as though she was searching for something. And then she found it. A spot on his neck, against his pulse. She began to lick him there, sucking his skin as she rode him, quickening her pace. She bit him softly and then licked him some more, his toes curling, his eyes rolling shut.

"Fuck," he moaned. He grasped her hips, aiding her grinding, pushing her back and forth frantically, unable to control himself. "I'm not...gonna last much longer. Come for me." Michonne licked his neck, biting and sucking until he was trembling.

"Mmm, I had my turn already. Now it's yours," she whispered. He growled. He wanted to make her come again but he wouldn't last if she kept up. He reached up, threading his fingers into her locs and he closed his mouth around her nipple and sucked it slowly, rolling his tongue over it.

"Not until...you come for me," he said again, nearly begging, holding back the eruption laying in tingling wait.

"No," she whispered in his ear. He groaned, sinking his nails into her skin, trying to hold on for dear life and he knew he was making the funniest of faces.

"You're so...stubborn, Michonne," he whimpered and she rode him faster, harder, her fingers finding his curls and when she spoke again it was enough to make him explode.

"Remplis-moi," she purred, sucking on his ear as she whispered into the canal and he burst like a dam, his voice trapped in his throat, his hips bucking. And then his whole body went rigid for a moment, every nerve shattering, constricting. He couldn't move. Michonne kept gliding over him as he came and he realized she was tightening around him, climaxing softly, cooing his name as he depleted himself inside her, his body jerking, his eyes squeezed shut. A cry left him and he did not recognize his own voice, surprised when he felt her tongue slip into his mouth. He groaned her name and as he knew it would, it tasted sweeter than anything else. And he said it again, his hands glided over her skin as he winded down, panting, kissing her back. She pulled him closer, her own breathing unsteady as she slowed down.

"Shit," he managed to say. "What'd you whisper in my ear?" She giggled softly.

"I said, Fill me," she replied. He kissed her shoulder.

"Well, you always get what you want, don't you," he chuckled. "I'm too old for all this. You're gonna kill me." She kept giggling, her laugh low and laced with sleepiness and sensuality and he smiled. He turned her over, no longer inside her as he eased her back against his pillows, pulling her closer and noticing she was already drifting off to sleep. He turned off his bedside lamp and pulled his sheets over her supple body, her skin still glowing. He kissed her shoulder again.

"I'm makin' you breakfast in the mornin'," he said, if only to bring her more pleasure, if only to see her smile again. Inhaling her scent for the dozenth time, he sighed and lifted her chin to kiss her slowly, enjoying the way she tasted.

"Mmm," she murmured in approval when she pulled away and buried the side of her face into his pillows again. "You never finished telling me about yourself. I'm sure I don't know everything." A little smile teased the corners of her full lips.

"Alright, lemme think o' somethin'," he murmured, stifling a yawn. "My first name is Richard, but my brother used to call me Richie...and all my friends called me Rick, so it stuck."

"Mmm, Richie. I like it," she whispered, her state of rapture making her so beautifully drowsy.

"I've lived in King County all my damn life. Never even been outta the country. My favorite color is blue. Or red- can never decide. I play the guitar a little. I like horseback ridin' and fishin'. I wanted to be a cop ever since I was little and I passed my academy exam the first time..." he trailed off. "Can't think of anything else, but I'll tell you if I do." It was easy to talk to Michonne, and natural flow of conversation had not been something Rick encountered often. He felt lucky, and in spite of everything, he was convinced he was dreaming. He never wanted to wake up.

Glancing up from her blissful expression, he caught a flash of Jody standing by the window, watching him with angry bleeding gashes for eyes and Rick jumped, reminded of his earlier epiphany. "One more thing..." he said to Michonne, longing to rid himself of the newest of struggles weighing heavy on his chest. Somehow he knew his declaration would not fall on judgemental ears.

"Yes?" she murmured, her eyes closed.

"When I cried to you last night about the man I shot... when I realized that I killed him. I don't think I was crying to you outta guilt for takin' his life." Her eyes opened in the dark and he stared into the twinkling, black portals of her endless soul, ready to confess to her, drawn to tell her, unable to contain his heart and the hearth where his secrets slept.

"Why, then?" she asked, their gaze intense even in the dimness, the full moon providing a tiny glimmer of light in his dark room. "Didn't you still feel guilty?"

"Yes, but not because I killed him..." He listened to her steady, unfettered breathing, confused by her calm.

"Then why? Why did you cry?" she said softly, their conversation now a whisper, as if they were both afraid someone else would hear.

"Because... I think...I think I liked killin' him."

a/n: someone on wattpad uploaded some of these chapters back when I first published them. she gave credit, but vaguely, and some people thought she wrote it, but I do have her to thank for saving some chapters I had lost. you might notice, however, that I have made some changes to those chapters. I wrote them over 5 years ago, and I am a very different writer now, so I always revise them. Please let me know your thoughts, and though I am working on the final draft of my first novel, I will have chapter 4 posted in a couple of weeks, as well as some old one shots. hope you enjoyed, princess