Windchimes made for a soft, melodious alarm to start the day. Michonne blinked slowly as she woke, sunlight in her eyes and a comfortable ache throbbing deep in her muscles. Rick's arm was tight around her waist, his breathing so faint that it seemed as though he had departed.
He moved only to inhale her scent and press closer to her, moaning with discontent when she rose from the bed. She pulled herself from under his heavy grasp and traipsed off to the bathroom, naked, humming quietly. Bending to lift the shower faucet, she stopped suddenly to glance in the mirror, studying herself in the clear, wide reflection.
She tossed her locs over her shoulder, revealing love bites, deep purple splotches on her neck and collarbone, another layer over the healing ones from their first night together. She smiled softly, realizing she looked well-rested, her skin radiant and her eyes bright. She wanted to laugh. Rick seemed to be having a pleasant effect on her, despite the dark confession he had whispered before she drifted off to sleep in his arms.
Without elaboration, or the knowledge of the full story, Michonne understood him. She knew Rick did not mean he found immense pleasure in taking the young man's life, but that he had derived a sense of satisfaction from it. He was not lacking remorse. It was probable Rick enjoyed the power he could enjoy as a police officer- the power to end a life in order to save others. Plenty of men wanted to be a hero. And most wanted to feel needed by those around them.
Michonne knew the only thing that had been on Rick's mind in the midst of the chaos that unfolded that evening was helping the people around him and getting back to his son. It had undoubtedly been the reason for the trigger pull. And Michonne wasn't going to judge him for his statement, but she did have some questions.
Rick entered the bathroom, drowsy and nude. He rubbed his eyes and groaned, stalking towards her and stopping behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. Kissing her shoulder gingerly, he met her gaze in the mirror. Early morning light poured into the bathroom and it made his eyes vividly blue; they were twinkling and animated like the ocean in the tropics. Michonne pressed her back against his chest, and his warmth and heartbeat flowed into her.
In the mirror, their eye contact was as intense as their face to face encounters: soul-searching, knowing, comforting. Rick's hands drifted and he caressed her skin slowly, kissing her shoulder again and moaning softly in her ear as he pressed his hot hardness against her backside. She turned in his arms and held his face in her hands, stroking his stubbled cheeks with her thumbs. His eyes closed. A sighed escaped his luscious pink mouth.
"I'll be right back," Michonne whispered, fighting the urge to kiss him, and Rick nodded softly as she pulled away. She took his robe from its hook on the back of the bathroom door and slipped it on, strolling down the hall and to the living room where she fetched her keys from her briefcase. Rushing out into the hot and heavy air, her bare feet scorched on the pavement sidewalk, she silently hoped Andrea had kept her promise to leave an overnight bag in Michonne's trunk, using a spare set of keys for access. Though she was in a robe, and not fully dressed, Michonne was anxious to be back inside Rick's house again, protected from the sweltering Georgia heat, perhaps in a cool shower with the annoyingly gorgeous man who would not leave her mind.
She unlocked her trunk and collected the lush purple leather overnight bag she was relieved to see from the trunk of her sedan and slammed it shut before heading back to Rick's front entrance. The sound of a car door closing made Michonne turn her head and peer down the sidewalk to the otherwise empty street. A slender woman with pale skin and thin, long tumbling brown hair shoved her keys into her canvas tote bag and started up the sidewalk quickly, stopping in her tracks when she looked up and saw Michonne standing on the doorstep. They stared at each other for a moment and Michonne knew- she saw it in the softness of her features and the slight wave of her hair- this woman was Rick's ex-wife, Carl's mother. Michonne, not sure how to react to such a guest, turned her back as the former Mrs. Grimes began to speak.
"Excuse me," the woman called out, climbing the steps and stopping behind Michonne. "Who are you?" Michonne turned to face her, Rick's robe slipping down and revealing a bare shoulder, her cleavage gleaming. She didn't try to cover herself. Instead, she smiled.
"A special quest to a gracious host," she replied. "Who might you be?" The woman looked her up and down, and she appeared confused as she eyed her attire suspiciously. Michonne kept a straight face, grasping the ties of Rick's pale blue robe as the fabric slipped further down her shoulder.
"I'm Lori," she said. "I need to talk to Rick, so excuse me." She tried to push past her quickly and Michonne bristled, vexed by the contact alone.
"You can't just walk into his house when he hasn't invited you in. He's in the shower," Michonne told her. Lori's expression deepened to a scowl and it looked as though she had eaten something sour.
"You have no authority over who goes into his house. We were married. We have a child. I need to speak with him," she said in a scolding tone. Michonne rolled her eyes and turned around.
"You can sit here and wait for him to finish. You shouldn't just walk into his home if he knows nothing about you coming over," she replied, opening the door and leaving Lori alone in the living room without turning back to look at her. She took her overnight bag with her, and upon her return, found Rick in the shower as she assumed he would be. With her toiletries in hand, Michonne grabbed his spearmint toothpaste and began to brush her teeth.
"You gonna join me, Michonne?" he called out to her, his voice echoing through the bathroom. She smiled around her toothbrush, spitting into the sink and licking her bottom lip.
"Oh, I intend to," she murmured. She rinsed her mouth and slipped her toothbrush into the empty slot next to his before tugging at the ties to his robe. It unfastened and pooled at her feet. Michonne climbed in under the warm water with Rick and he smiled down at her, setting his soap aside and wrapping his arms about her waist. He was covered in slippery suds, his skin sliding against hers when he drew her closer and kissed her softly.
Michonne watched him when he pulled back and opened his eyes, the blue once more taking her breath away, his long lashes fluttering and charming. They were sad eyes, melancholy azure, and her heart constricted. She knew Rick was dealing with considerable emotions- contradictory ones. Killing someone had to be one of the most life-altering experiences. She reached up and held his face in her hands again, and again his eyes closed at the contact. Michonne wanted desperately to bring him a bit of pleasure.
She cared for him. It did not matter if they had known each other for a day and a half- she had shared her body with him, and Rick had shared his with her, as he did his soul. They were becoming close, and rapidly- it was terrifying, but it was heartening.
Later, she would speak to him about what he had said to her, when she knew for certain he was satisfied and calmed: by the touch of her hands, by the feel of her body, by the taste of her kisses.
Michonne grabbed his soap and lathered herself up, and Rick reached out eagerly towards her to help. The touch of his rough, sturdy hands as he lathered up her body made her purr and hum with pleasure. Her eyes shut and she moaned, stepping closer to reciprocate as his hands moved to caress her ass. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his pulse; he ran his hands over her, not missing a spot, until every inch of her was covered in suds. With her breasts, he was teasingly gently, the feathery brushes of his fingers across her nipples making her groan. He reserved the most sensitive places for last, one of his hands against her ass, his fingers grazing her between her cheeks, the other hand in front of her, teasing her clit softly.
Gasping, she looked up at him, and Rick leaned down, kissing her hard and forcing his tongue into her mouth with a guttural groan. His fingers explored her now familiar places: the swells, each hill and valley, each bundle of sensitive nerves. She melted under his touch, giving into the lust for him which resided warm and weighty where her thighs met.
Rick grabbed the shower head and turned the switch on, testing the water with his fingers before aiming it at her skin. He rinsed her clean while he leaned down to kiss her some more and his caress was tender and gentle as he washed the soap from her body- it left her breathless. While he aimed the water at himself, Michonne tried to compose herself, blinking as she watched the bubbles slide off of his skin, his complexion slightly tanned from the sun with a hint of red beneath. He was blushing under her observant gaze, and it was hard for her to remain calm when he was near, and naked. Her attraction to him had blindsided her. Michonne leaned forward to continue kissing him, sighing into his mouth and sucking his tongue, one of her hands lost in his curls. Reaching down with her other hand, she wrapped her fingers around his rigid cock, squeezing him until he shuddered. His pink lips parted and he groaned loudly, his eyes rolling shut, his hand fisting in her hair, fingers wrapped around her locs as she slowly ran her hand over his length. She could feel his pulse-the warmth of his blood rushing there- and by the look on his face, she had him in the palm of her hand, quite literally. She smiled against his moaning mouth, enjoying the power she temporarily had over him.
He swallowed hard and opened his eyes, lids heavy, the rate of his breathing unsteady. She ran her thumb over his tip, precum making her teasing slippery and unbearable.
"Mmm- Michonne. Fuck," he muttered. Please, don't tease me," She smirked, amused and aroused by his manners and his begging, and teasing him still anyway. He kissed her sheepishly, his lips brushing hers with a lightness unlike him, his cheeks and neck flushing a deeper scarlet. His breaths became heavy and he reached for her, surprising her with a roughness of the hands that made her center ache. "Turn around," he instructed, his drawl thick. It echoed around them, and Michonne complied, letting Rick turn her sharply until her ass was pressed against his dick. He held her there and began to run a line of kisses over her shoulder and neck as his fingers found her slick folds. He parted her slowly, gently, running his fingertip over her clit until she gasped.
Her eyes closed. He was driving her insane, having his revenge for her torment. Her legs began to shake and when his other hand found her breast, his fingers caressing her nipple, she nearly fell apart.
"Fuck me," she demanded, squirming from the pleasant discomfort of it all and Rick chuckled against her skin.
"See, it's not fair, is it?" he whispered. She wiggled and ground her ass into him, lifting her hand to slip her fingers into his hair. She pulled at his wet curls and moaned, and he groaned in response, taking a step back and pressing his back to the wall of his shower. Rick pulled her against him, adjusting his hips behind hers and wrapping his arms around her from behind. Michonne pressed closer, trusting his sturdiness and letting him lead, prepared to let him fuck her senselessly... as she knew he would.
"This is just like when we danced on Friday night," Rick said in her ear, his drawl throaty and sending a shiver down her spine. "With you pressed against me like this." She arched her back and then she felt him, hovering, hot and throbbing against her entrance and she kept forgetting not to hold her breath. She was never going to forget how adorably goofy he looked that night as he danced with her, so handsome and awkward all at once, his eyes timid and soft on hers and his dick bold and hard on her ass.
"Except we weren't naked and soaking wet and I wasn't- oh, fuck," she tried to finish her sentence but her words came out in a singsong moan when she felt Rick slip inside her tantalizingly and agonizingly slowly, filling her to the hilt and then withdrawing nearly all the way before he plunged deep inside her again. And again. And again.
"Ohhh," she whimpered. He was already good at sex and he was getting better. She was coming undone in a matter of seconds. Rick held her tiny waist with both hands as fucked her, pushing her back and forth on his cock, moaning in her ear at the feel of her warm, dripping walls gripping him, squeezing him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, her locs brushing his cheek and he closed his eyes, finding his rhythm and pumping inside her. "Yes, Rick, don't stop," she encouraged. He fucked her faster and made her cry out, her nails sinking into his thighs. She pressed one hand to the opposite wall before her for support, standing on her tiptoes and pushing back against him to match his thrusts.
A familiar fire stirred inside her and it burned hotter, melting and pooling and aching between her thighs. She couldn't hold on. Perhaps on another day she could withstand the bliss he brought her for a little while longer but every cell came alive under his strong, calloused hands, and she realized that Rick was beginning to discover every secret place on her body that made her moan, the places he could touch that made her cream. Places that had gone unnoticed by the men she had been with before, ignored and aching to be caressed, licked, vellicated, stroked.
And Rick had unearthed every hidden little spot, making her body blossom beneath his hands. He kissed a span of flesh along her hairline with poetic care, his lips tickling her earlobe. Sweeps of his tongue on her neck wound her up and made her squirm. Flicks and brushes of the thumbs enticed her nipples. His fingers were steady but soft on her clit- she wanted to cry, or die, or both, in that order. Her eyes began to roll back and her mouth fell open with a quiet gasp, a choked sound leaving her lips before ecstasy could take over. Michonne could do nothing in the moment but accept that she would soon surrender herself completely. She waited for it-wanted it- needed it. And she began to fall apart at his mercy, his dick pumping inside her, his balls slapping against her ass, the warm, rushing water beating down over them all the while.
"Fuck, I'm so close," she whimpered, in an attempt to warn him and to ask for his support as her toes curled and she began to lose control. She could hardly stand. The water raining down on them trickled into her eyes and stuck to her lashes, cascading to fall into her parted lips and down her chin to slide where it pleased, more following, caressing her skin. She was overwhelmed, fighting to control her emotion, the sensations, and the weakening tremble of her body.
"Me too," Rick moaned. He wrapped his left arm around her tightly, his hand coming to rest on her cheek, his forearm pressed against her heart and he pulled her even closer against him, the rhythm of his thrusts never faltering. His other hand stayed between her thighs, his fingers drawing slow, slippery circles over her clit in repetition. Despite her attempts to prepare herself, she fell over the edge so forcefully that she cried out his name, her body jerking with pleasure, every cell alive and sparking, and Rick fucked her through it, prolonging her climax until he had left her speechless, her mouth open and her eyes rolling back. The sounds he made in response to her creaming for him let her know his was only seconds away. And it only turned her on more.
"Come for me," she managed to whimper, still pushing back on him anf coaxing his orgasm from him. Rick moaned in reply, quickening his pace until his grip on her waist tightened and she felt his cock stiffen and jerk inside her. He choked out a low moan and murmured her name, his thrusts rough and shaky, his grunts loud as he spilled his emission deep inside her, and she felt every spurt of his release decorating her walls, traces dripping down her thighs. She leaned back and pressed her wet body to his and they came down from their shared euphoria, panting in tandem, smiling to themselves.
"Fuck," Rick whispered when he recovered and Michonne let out a breathy giggle. He turned her in his arms; their lips connected in a sloppy kiss as their eyes met and they both moaned.
She stared back at him, brown boring into blue as their tongues flirted and she noticed the present spark in his blue eyes, and the healthy, glowing flush of his skin. She smiled against his mouth at the realization that indeed she'd brought him enough pleasure to make him appear less troubled then he had when he awoken. She was having a pleasant effect on him too.
Rick caressed her backside as he kissed her and pulled away only to smile down at her in response to her own grin.
"What?" he asked, kissing her shoulder when she turned to rinse herself off once more.
"Nothin'," she purred, smiling softly. "Are you still making me breakfast?" Rick chuckled, sweeping her locs away to kiss her neck.
"Even if I wanted to say no, I don't think I could refuse you," he confessed. She smirked and ran her wet hands over her dreads. At least she wasn't the only one giving in so easily.
"I like pancakes," she informed him. Rick laughed softly again.
"Luckily I make a good short stack. A pancake breakfast...," he replied. "As you wish."
~•°•*•°•~
Michonne changed into the clothing from her overnight bag: a tight pair of midwash jeans and a red spaghetti strap tank. She moved through the house with a smile on her face and when she entered the living room, she spotted Lori on the couch, her back turned and her gaze fixed outside, the only window in the living room illuminating her copperbrown hair and pale skin. Michonne could smell coffee and glanced into the kitchen to find a fresh pot steaming in its designated spot on the countertop.
"Rick will be out in a minute," Michonne said, smirking as she retrieved a King County Sheriff Department mug from the cabinet.
"I made coffee," Lori said, not turning to face her.
"Mhm," Michonne murmured in reply, pouring herself a cup and searching for the sugar. She liked her coffee dark and just a little sweet, much like herself.
She wanted to giggle. A part of her had forgotten that Lori was there when she and Rick were in the midst of their morning session. Michonne wondered how much she had heard. No matter the amount Lori did hear, she didn't care, but she wondered how Rick would react to his ex-wife being in his home listening to him fuck another woman. "Speak of the devil," she muttered around a sip of hot coffee. She could hear Rick advancing.
"Hey, Michonne," he called out through the hallway, his deep drawl booming through the house, the 'oh' sound in her name drawn out by that sexy southern accent of his. His mouth made love to her name. He rolled his tongue around it, brushed his lips over it, took his time saying it. He continued to speak, unknowing to Lori's presence. "I been meanin' to talk to you about somethin'." He paused midway and retrieved something from a closet before he resumed his ambulation. " We both know I haven't been too careful over the past couple of days but... I can easily admit to you that I hope you're on some type of birth control. Because I want you stick around and scream my name some more after you beg me to fill you up with my c-."
"Rick!" Michonne chided loudly, choking on her coffee in a fit of laughter. Lori turned, her face beet red with embarrassment. She stood in haste, looking as though she wanted to flee, but before she could, Rick appeared in the arched entrance of the living room wearing his usual black jeans and a crisp white tee, his hair wet and stuck to his forehead, and when he spotted Lori, he, too, began to blush profusely, while Michonne bowed her head and giggled behind her hand in the kitchen.
"Lori... hey, I, um...," Rick stammered. "Shit." He turned to glance at Michonne, his expression changing for a moment when their eyes met, and he smiled softly at her, making her heart faintly flutter. "Thanks for the warning," he said. Michonne grinned back.
"I'm going to sit outside on the porch if you two need to talk," Michonne offered as Rick scanned her frame in her jeans and form-fitting tank. He met her gaze again, eyes filled with lust and admiration and something else.
"You don't need to d-," he started, clearly wanting Michonne nearby, but Lori cut him off.
"That'd be great," she said without even glancing in Michonne's direction. Rick's loaded gander followed Michonne as she walked to the front door. She winked at him as she left and he beamed back before turning his attention back to his rude and embarrassed ex-wife.
As Michonne sat in the rocking bench on the porch and sipped her coffee, she listened to the muffled pair of voices for a while. The sound carried easily through the window behind her. She heard the name of Rick's son mentioned quite a few times and the final instance it was uttered, she heard Rick's booming voice in the form of an angry exclamation. When he spoke, it shook the walls. It made her heart jump.
"I can't live like this anymore, Lori!" she heard him exclaim. "You can't just keep comin' over here whenever you want. And you complained about this before; that I didn't share my feelings with you. And now here I am doing exactly that, but the only way you respond is by threatening my relationship with my son? Carl's gonna keep coming here every other weekend, and he's meetin' Michonne, and I'm gonna talk to him about what happened on Friday because he needs to know!"
The front door opened and Lori exited in a whirlwind of flying copperbrown hair and blue flannel fabric, past Michonne to stand on the edge of the steps. She turned sharply to glare back at Rick as he stood at the front door, waiting with evident impatience for her to leave.
"I cannot believe you're yelling at me. That's a first. But I will not bring Carl over here if you're going to tell him about what happened. It will terrify him!" Lori paused to send what she thought was a menacing glare in Michonne's direction. "And I should have listened to Jessie, too. She told me there might be a strange woman over here and I didn't believe her. I will not have my son in this house with you if she's here. I don't need him to hear the ridiculous way you two carry on."
A considerable silence followed. Michonne could feel heat forming in the air and she could not secern whose anger was beginning to boil the hottest: her own anger or Rick's or the disgrunted former wife but the tension was rising. When Michonne realized how upset Rick looked, she decided she should speak up in order to save him the trouble. It was finally her turn, and she knew he would have no idea what to say.
"Look, I don't give a shit what you or this... Jessica thinks about me. That's none of my concern. And if Rick wants me to be here, I probably will be. But I can tell you one thing: if you break any of your custody ruling with the court and with Rick in regards to your son, there are consequences." Lori was taken aback by her reply and stepped towards her. Michonne rose. Lori was taller than she was, but Michonne was undaunted.
"Who the hell do you think you are? This is none of your business," Lori squeaked, visibly threatened and growing more embittered by the second; Michonne took a determined stride towards her, coffee still in hand. She kept her tone light. She was not one to thrive off of silly conflict but she wasn't about to listen to Rick's right to see his son be threatened in her presence, professionally or casually.
"An attorney, first and foremost. Family law and child custody are practices I am well-versed in, so believe me when I tell you that if you break any of your custody ruling, I'll advise Rick to speak with his attorney. And then, you will hear from Rick's attorney. You could consider it a warning of sorts... and if these threats persist, the ruling can be appealed. You do know that, right? I could get a very good friend of mine to do it. If you try to deny Rick his right to see his son when it's been ruled that he spend every other weekend with him, you just may lose custody of Carl entirely. Now, I'm sure you don't want that, do you?"
Lori was speechless and the trio was silent. Rick stared in awe. It had always been an insufferable burden: silencing Lori when she made idle threats and accusations. And Michonne had done so easily, unfettered, without raising her voice. Rick, predictably, was aroused. Finally, Lori's breath came out in labored huffs and her eyes filled with tears. She stood there on the top step, fiddling with her keys and the purse in her hands, mouth twisted into a frown. She was livid.
"No," she croaked. She turned to face Rick, and she swallowed hard before she spoke again. "Fine. You can pick him up from school on Friday. At three. As usual." Rick bit the inside of his lip and nodded curtly towards Lori in thanks.
"And Michonne'll be here to meet him," he added, prompting a deepening of Lori's scowl. And with that, she turned on her heel and stomped down the steps, rushing to her silver four-door and peeling away from the curb as Rick and Michonne watched her leave. "There you have it. The mother of my child. How did I get so lucky?" he muttered sarcastically, Lori's brakes still squealing. "Thanks," he added in reply to her help. "You handled that better than I would've." Michonne smiled sympathetically and tilted her head as she approached him to wrap her arms around his neck, sweeping his curls away from his forehead.
"You okay?" she asked. His eyes met hers, the wrinkles of frustration still set on his brow. He shook his head, his curls tumbling, one ringlet falling back into his eyes. She tucked it away again.
"She asked about the man I killed on duty. It's all over the news. Carl's seen it and it scares him to think about me killin' someone but.. when I get the chance to see him this coming weekend, I'm gonna talk to him about it. He needs to hear it." He blinked and looked down, sheepishly wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her closer.
"I agree... Anything else?" Michonne inquired, sensing his restraint. He exhaled and met her gaze again.
"Yesterday morning after you left, my ex girlfriend came by and just... unlocked my front door and walked in like she owned the damn place. She was in my room and she saw your things there and kinda freaked out. She's convinced we're supposed to 'work things out'," he said, emphasizing a quote. Rick guided Michonne back inside his home and closed the door behind them where the cold air conditioning provided relief from the already sweltering summer morning heat.
"Jessica, right?" Michonne asked with a wave of her hand. As if she needed to worry about him being interested in another woman when he was following closely behind her that she could feel him watching her every move. And she had to admit, she didn't want Rick to look at anyone the same way he looked at her. Rick laughed.
"Yeah, something like that. Hopefully, she wont show up here again. Lori either, since they both know you're here and hate the idea of it." He glanced out of the window at the street. His ex-wife and ex-girlfriend were upset with him. Finally, he thought, maybe they'll leave me alone. He turned his attention back to Michonne, who was pouring herself another cup of coffee with a bit more sugar. " But I don't wanna talk about them," Rick said. " You're the only woman I want in my house." He smiled crookedly and Michonne raised a brow.
"Really?" she asked and Rick nodded, his hands on his hips and that sexy smile still tugging at the corners of his pink lips.
"Besides, I don't make pancakes for just anyone. Consider yourself lucky, especially since you let me walk in here talking about birth control and my constant cravin' to make you come." This utterance intrigued her. Michonne drew closer and she let her empty hand fall upon his chest, where it trailed down his V-neck, counting the beats of his heart.
"Constant?" she asked, smiling up at him. Hearing him admit these things aroused her curiosity. She wondered what sort of things about her drifted through his mind.
"Yes," he admitted, a firm hand finding her backside and squeezing. She nearly moaned. "It's easily becoming my favorite thing to do," he murmured, his voice so low she could feel its vibration between her thighs. The way he was looking at her made her wet, and her panties began to stick to her skin. "But I promised to make you breakfast so we'll have to wait a little while before I get my chance to do it again."
"I can wait," Michonne said, only half believing herself; she sensed Rick was challenging her as well as himself. He kissed her softly and pulled away to saunter into the kitchen, barefoot and bowlegged; that stupid walk of his she liked so much ensured her- he would fit perfectly into for her plans for the day.
"So can I... but we'll see who gives in first," he replied, opening the cabinets in his kitchen to retrieve the ingredients to make pancakes from scratch. "But first..." he said, flashing another handsome smile and scratching at his beard as he grabbed some flour, "a pancake breakfast just for you."
"Today is my only day off until Friday, y'know," she told him after a comfortable silence and a few more sips of coffee.
"Work?" Rick asked, and she could tell that he was disappointed, trying and failing miserably to hide it. His heart faltered with a sad weight. Michonne could sense he would miss her and it made her smile. She was going to miss him, too.
"Yeah. Work... And, Rick?" she added. He opened the refrigerator and took out the milk and eggs, glancing towards her for a moment.
"Yeah?" he replied.
"I am on birth control, by the way," she finished and the eggs tumbled from his hands. He juggled them, grasping at them in an attempt to catch them, but they fell and cracked on the floor. Michonne started giggling again. "We'll definitely see who gives in first," she said quietly as she knelt to help a blushing Rick rid the floor of egg yokes and broken shells. "And it won't be me." Rick smiled crookedly.
"Don't be so sure of yourself, Michonne," he said, raising a brow. "I love a challenge."
~•°•*•°•~
Watching Michonne devour the fluffy, buttermilk pancakes set before her was far more entertaining than Rick originally thought it would be. A sweet moan left her lips often as she forked each morsel of sticky, syrupy goodness into her waiting mouth and licked away the remnants.
"Enjoying yourself?," Rick teased as watched her tongue move to lick some syrup from her top lip. He wanted to taste her mouth, to feel her sticky lips and her sweet tongue on his.
"Mmm, yes," she replied, eating another bite. He smiled a little.
"Are they really that good?" he asked, poking at his food with his fork. He hadn't eaten a single bite. "I haven't tried them yet... Not very hungry..." His voice trailed off and when he glanced up at her again, she was eyeing him curiously.
"You okay?" Michonne asked, setting her fork down on the embroidery of a creamy white napkin. Rick nodded and looked away, only to jump, visibly alarmed when he saw Jody standing in front of the window in the living room, glaring back at him, his brain matter oozing and staining the rug. "Rick?" Michonne stretched out her hand to touch his face and the contact startled him. Her light prod brought his attention back to her.
"What? Oh. Yeah. I-I'm fine," he stammered. He met her gaze, her eyes warm and honey brown in the bright light of the morning sun. She did not look convinced. Rick swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to look away again; Michonne stood, circumnavigating the table and making her way to Rick. She ensconced herself in his lap, and her finger guided his bearded chin. She lifted his face, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"Do you see him?" she asked and Rick blinked in bewilderment, meeting her regard- opening his mouth to speak and then snapping it closed again. "You see him... don't you?" she prodded. He tried to flee. He felt compelled to reply, to tell her, but didn't want to admit it aloud- not to her. She would, without a doubt, think that he was insane. How was he to tell her casually that he was seeing the man he killed- everywhere.
He hadn't slept much. He had spent most of the night wrapped around Michonne, listening to her murmur in her sleep- cherishing the sound of her breathing. And Jody stood all the while by the window, watching them, scowling at them. Not eating wasn't going to help either.
"Yes," Rick replied abruptly before he knew the word was leaving his lips. It was as if his soul needed to tell her what his body could not. Michonne slipped her fingers into his hair. He was beginning to discover how much the gesture calmed him; he closed his eyes and relished in her touch.
"Have you slept?" she asked, caressing his scalp, and Rick shook his head softly, waiting for her response, anticipating the negativity he knew would accompany it. "Look at me," she demanded and he raised his eyes, waiting for her to speak. "You're aware that you might be suffering from post-traumatic stress, right?" He blinked again and thought about the possibility for a second, distracted by her hand in his curls.
"I wouldn't deny that," he replied shyly.
"Are you going to see a therapist?" she continued, her voice full of concern. It genuinely surprised him. He didn't want her to be worried about him, but her commiserative solitude was a comfort to his wandering scattered mind and his sore heart. Rick shrugged.
"Tomorrow, I'll go back to work, but only so they can give me a hearing test. I'll write up and prepare my full statement and speak to my lawyer about the Remington's." He paused, and tried to conceal his fretfulness. But, in spite of his attempt, Michonne noticed; she kneaded his scalp to mollify him, and his eyes fell closed. " Then I suppose I'll talk to the welfare counselor. Might not let me return to work for a while. Especially once they'll be able to see what kind of condition I'm in..." Rick timidly lifted a hand and rested it in her thigh, stroking her over her jeans. It felt nice to have a woman around who worried about him, especially a woman like Michonne.
"You don't seem too enthusiastic about speaking to a welfare counselor," she said, smiling a little. "But you should... and it's mandatory, isn't it?" Rick nodded and licked his lips.
"Yeah, I know. I'm goin'," he whispered.
"Good..." She paused. "I think it'll help but... you know there's nothing wrong with you for seeing things. People," she told him. "It happens." He nodded again. "And what you said last night-."
"I didn't mean that," Rick interjected, searching her eyes, scared his remark had unnerved, but Michonne shook her head, her endless, beaded locs oscillating.
"I think a part of you did. Don't worry, Rick, you haven't scared me away yet. You aren't the first person I've met that has admitted something like that to me. And you aren't the first person I've known who sees things that aren't there," she murmured, her voice low and somber, and Rick watched her as she rose to her feet, tilting his head as he thought about the manner in which she had delivered the confession.
He could imagine the kinds of people she encountered and represented as a criminal defense attorney. People, undoubtedly, crazier than himself. "Everyone's a little crazy," she finished, answering him without even knowing. Damn, she's perceptive, he inwardly marvelled. "We can talk about it some more later if you want, okay? We should get on the road. I have some plans for us and I am not spending my entire Sunday in bed with you," she murmured.
"Okay," Rick chuckled, standing to clear the table. "Lead the way. I'll go anywhere 'long as I'm with you." Michonne smiled at his statement and walked into the kitchen, setting her plate down in the sink and hurriedy slipping on a pair of boots Andrea had left for her. "You wanna drive?" Rick asked.
"Yeah," she replied with a grin, fiddling with and jingling the keys in her hand as he tugged on his worn cowboy boots.
"Good," Rick said, standing and smirking as he adorned his thick, chocolaty curls with his sheriff's hat. "'Cause I see thangs."
~•°•*•°•~
Rick couldn't recall the last time he had witnessed a sight as beautiful as Michonne on horseback.
He had watched her as she drove through the Georgia countryside, drinking in her breathtaking profile while classical music and easy listening played softly from the radio. Along the way, they came to a dusty road and a welcoming 'Greene Farm' sign shortly thereafter, and when Michonne slowed, Rick knew they had reached her intended destination. After she introduced him to the owners of the land- an older man named Hershel and his soft-spoken wife, Annette, he and Michonne readied a pair of horses named Flame and Buttons, and mounted the saddles to set out on an adventure.
"So, how do you know the Greenes?" Rick asked when they had been quiet for a while, letting her take the lead so he could enjoy both the view of her and the view of the countryside. Michonne laughed softly to herself, and Rick realized the sound was infinitely sweeter outdoors.
"Hershel's eldest daughter, Maggie, got in a bit of legal trouble a while back for running over some schoolboy's fancy car with a tractor. When Schoolboy's family pressed charges against her for reckless driving, I represented her and somehow got her off. Emotional distress from a breakup, I claimed." She chuckled and shook her head. "Maggie's family was grateful to me and since they told me that I could come by whenever I pleased to ride the horses at their farm, I befriended them. They're good people." Rick laughed.
"A tractor, huh?" he asked and Michonne nodded.
"Maggie's not a woman you wanna fuck with. I like her," she replied.
"You help a lot of people because of your job, don't you?"
"A lot of people get into legal trouble, so yes, I suppose I do." Rick hesitated before his next response, readjusting his hat and digging his booted heels into the horses flanks in order to catch up to Michonne. She had stopped beneath a lone tree to admire the view of Atlanta in the sweltering, hazy distance, wiping sweat from her already gleaming forehead, and her necklace winked at him.
Even in the shade, the sun loved her skin. Her complexion drank its rays and reflected others; the light bounced off of her and nearly blinded him. She quite literally glowed. Michonne reached up and swept her locs away from her face, the beads in her hair glinting, her shoulders revealed, striking and kissable. She turned and smiled, dazzling Rick a little more, and he smiled back as his horse joined hers beneath the tree. After they had enjoyed the view in silence, Rick spoke again.
"Can I ask you somethin'," he wondered aloud.
"Hm?" she replied, not turning away from the view, her hand suddenly on her necklace. She grasped the "M" and pressed it to her lips.
"If Lori tries to appeal the custody case and take Carl from me... will you help me?" he whispered, his voice as low as the wind, his head bowed slightly. Michonne turned to face him, scowling.
"You want me to represent you?" she asked and he nodded. "But I don't practice family law and child custody, Rick. I work in criminal defense." Her statement confused him.
"But, earlier you said that-. I'm sorry. I guess I misunderstood you," he murmured. "I thought you said you knew a lot about it-." Her gorgeous scowl deepened and his mouth snapped shut.
"I do, Rick, but it's not because I practiced it. It's for another reason. I can give you legal advice but I can't represent you in a child custody case," she muttered, turning away. Her horse shifted nervously. The rider heaved a frustrated sigh. She was upset. He had done something to upset her. Rick had seen the disturbance plainly in her striking features: a pout on her bold lips, a knitting of her expressive brows, a darkening in her earth-brown eyes.
"Oh. I'm sorry, Michonne," he apologized. "I just... I'm just worried about Carl. I never get to see him enough as it is. How'd you come to know so much about family law and child custody then? Just something you picked up on? I can tell you like kids." She turned back towards him sharply, her brown eyes aflame and filled to the brim with tears and it shook him to the core. In her ire she looked so beautifully terrifying, and for the first time, Rick noticed a sorrow in her eyes she had never revealed. His heart constricted and when she looked as though she wanted to speak, she changed her mind and dug her heels into Flame's flanks, taking off and leaving Rick to call out after her as she fled, her locs flying behind her, her ass in the air. "Shit. Shit. Michonne! I'm sorry! Shit... Wait for me!"
With a snap of the reins, he took off after her. He chased her until she disappeared into the distance and still he followed, unable to deny that he was worried about her. What did I say to upset her? he thought. Can I help her? I gotta find her.
Rick searched the Greene's farm for nearly an hour before he saw her again. It was the longest hour of his life. The sun had fallen further in the sky. The heat had only worsened. He was sweating by the time he found her; she was in another dense field, her face among a family of trees- a sight for sore eyes. Rick forced Buttons into a gallop until he could stop at her side. She sat still on Flame's saddle, and as he approached, she reached above her head to pluck a peach from a nearby tree.
"What was it like...?" she asked him as settled and watched her.
"What was what li-?"
"What was it like to kill that man, Rick? Tell me what it felt like." Rick was stunned by her question. Why had she run off?
"I- uh," he stammered. She finally turned and met his gaze and her eyes burned into his. He could read a thousand things in her scrutiny and he swallowed hard as she silently pleaded with him. The mutual gaze was far too intense. Rick turned away and exhaled a breath at length. "I told you, Michonne. I liked it. Silly as it sounds, I liked being the man that saved everyone that day."
"But tell me what you felt. I want to hear you say it," she murmured. She spoke... as if she knew. It stunned Rick. Once more he pondered: was it her intuition? Or had he met a woman who had blood on her hands, as he did? He bristled, the officer in him alert. Would he soon find out something about her that might result in an arrest? Would he ignore a crime for the sake of the woman he was developing significant feelings for?
"A rush of everything," he delivered, staring down at the swaying grasses, and the gnats and ladybugs capering along the scutch. " Power. Adrenaline. Fright. Intrigue. And then, nothing. And then, nothing but relief. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had helped someone. Like someone really needed me. The last time I felt like that, it was because of Carl. When he was small. When he never left my side." His final declaration made her release a loud, shaky breath. She tugged at her necklace as her warm eyes filled with tears. Rick longed to reach for her, to wipe those tears away, to kiss her.
"It feels nice to be needed..." she said, blinking the tears away and turning to stare at the peach trees again. "Doesn't it?" His heart swelled and he reached for her hand, their fingers intertwined between them as their horses swayed. If it upset her, he didn't want to pry, but he ached to know what had caused her such distress. Surely, it was something he had said.
"It does feel nice. It's been a long time since I felt needed," he murmured.
"Me too," she whispered, still gazing off into the distance, dragging the gold 'M' back and forth again and again. "Me too."
~•°•*•°•~
After they spent another quiet hour together at the Greene Farm, they returned the horses to the stable and showed their gratitude to the family. Rick drove Michonne back to his house in her car, holding her hand on her knee for the whole of the trip. She remained relatively silent for the entire drive, and through the majority of the rushed spaghetti dinner they had prepared together. After a significant glass of white wine, Michonne left to shower, and Rick paced for a while, worried about the state of his flame before he, too, went off to shower in his son's bathroom. And Michonne thought about her sorrowful past under the stream of hot water, shedding another bounty of emotion much like the one she had relinquished alone in the field of peach trees before Rick had joined her again.
She couldn't talk about what was causing her so much anguish- not with Andrea, not with her friend, Sasha, and not with her father. She hadn't spoken to anyone in several weeks about her grief. She was somehow keeping the insanity and depression at bay. And though she had shared her body and her thoughts with Rick, she could not bring herself to tell him- not yet. It was such a burden for her to carry alone, but with all he was suffering from, she could not more add pain to his life. Michonne refused. She would spare him a surplus of hardship and continue on as she had been- coping, trying, searching.
When Michonne finished showering, she slipped into a pair of pale pink cotton panties and borrowed one of Rick's white tees to wear before making her way to the living room. She found Rick there, also freshly showered; he was drying his hair with a blue cotton towel by the still, cold fireplace, a fresh white t-shirt hugging his frame, a pair of sky blue boxers peeking out. Her spirit lifted when she saw him. The feeling surprised her. She realized- she truly was beginning to care deeply for him, the observation only further affirmed by the butterflies threatening to break free from her stomach to fly up into her throat and escape out of her mouth when Rick smiled a slow, charming smile.
"Hey," he murmured as she rounded the couch and sat down. He inched toward a pair of doors in the hallway and tossed his towel into a basket. " You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay," Michonne whispered. Rick joined her on the sofa. He wanted to reach out and touch Michonne- he wanted to comfort her- but he feared she would pull away. He was accustomed to displays of repulsion when he had done something to upset a woman. But much to his surprise, Michonne scooted closer, her knees pressed against his bare leg. Rick cleared his throat and tried to focus, his heart leaping with every pulsation. She no longer seemed perturbed by him, and he was beyond relieved, because all he wanted was to make her feel good.
"When we met," he began, eyes sweeping the span of her brilliantly bare legs, " you told me I could talk to you about anything. That you were a good shoulder to cry on... I wanted you to know same goes for me. If you ever wanna talk about what's upsettin' you, I'll be here waiting to listen. Okay?" He met her gaze, consoled by the heat in her deep brown eyes as he lifted his hand and ran his thumb over her cheek. She smiled faintly, and to his delight, turned her face into his palm, pleased by his touch.
"Thank you," she murmured, staring back at him, and her gaze kindled a spark in his belly. They were quiet together for a long time, lost in each others eyes, warm in their intimacy. "Wanna watch a movie?" Michonne asked abruptly, breaking contact and shifting to pluck up the jacket of a film from the coffee table: Kill Bill. Rick smirked.
"Sure," he agreed. He had seen it before but he would gladly watch again with Michonne. She located the remote and slipped the disk into the player, plopping back down on the couch and easing closer to Rick, her legs tucked beneath her. The t-shirt she wore was oversized on her petiteness, and as she tried to get comfortable, the stark fabric rode up on her thighs, revealing more of her flawless skin. Her panties were pale pink and popped splendidly against her deep complexion. Rick's mouth watered as he thought about his face between her thighs, his lips pressed to her brown rose as he lapped at her until she quivered. Michonne tried to watch the movie; she had seen it before but it was one of her favorites, and she enjoyed the many scenes of revenge and bloodshed. But she was more aware of Rick ogling her. Heat radiated from his covetous leering. She enjoyed turning him on. He was so eager to please, and being pleased by him never failed to ease her mind.
"Are you even paying attention?" she asked, using her honeyed voice to startle him from his daydreams. He realized she had caught him eyeing her. He licked his lips. He could feel his cheeks burning; he was undoubtedly blushing.
"Sorry," he apologized, turning back to the screen and swallowing hard as the image of her perfect, round ass came into his mind. Rick was beginning to notice that it was impossible to concentrate on anything when Michonne was close to him. His body told him several times a day to bury himself inside her, even when an opportunity had not presented itself, even when his brain fought back- it didn't matter. His dick twitched and his boxers provided no privacy. He clenched his fist and tried to focus on the screen, but when their hands brushed together between them on the couch, Rick forgot the title of the movie itself, the actors, the plot, the conflict. Everything he knew about it vanished from his mind as her fingers interlocked with his. He tightened his hold on her hand and shifted his weight towards her to bring his lips to his jawline, and before he could contain it, his tongue snaked out, tracing her common carotid artery and tasting the flutter of her pulse. Michonne gasped quietly, and the sensation of his hot papillae touching her made her squeeze her thighs together.
"So, I guess you've given up?" she whispered, interrupting his task. Rick pulled back and furrowed his brow; her thumb caressed his fingers.
"Given up what?" he asked. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips and his heart soared when she turned and grinned, her smile turning into a giggle. "What?" he asked again, squeezing her hand.
"Your challenge," she replied. "I told you this morning that I could wait. That I wouldn't be the first to give in." His stomach clenched. "Was I right? You just licked me." Her laughter heightened. " And I've seen the way you're looking at me. I assume you've given up." Rick had completely forgotten. He wondered why he had been foolish enough to compete with such a stubborn, sexy woman. He couldn't watch a movie, or drive a car, or eat a meal or dwell on the act of shooting someone in the head without thinking about sex when Michonne Hawthorne was next to him.
She let go of his hand and inched closer, her fingers lazily tracing the lining of his boxers. His breath hitched. When she ran her palm over his chest, he knew she could feel his heart racing. Teasing his nipple with her index finger until it went hard beneath his shirt, she giggled again, and scooted closer still, until her face was buried in the crook of his neck. He could hardly breathe as her hand eased into his boxers. She avoided touching him, and his dick jumped desperately for her, begging for her attention. Rick blushed harder. Every facet of him was dying for her approval, for her touch. "Hmm, Rick? Are you giving up? Do I win?" Her grip closed around his cock and his hips bucked in response, a loud, embarrassing moan escaping him.
"Yes," he hissed, his eyes closing as she began to run her hand over him. He felt her lips turn into a smile against his pulse.
"Mmm. Good," she whispered, without delay straddling his waiting lap. She freed him from his boxers and stroked him until his toes curled. "And since I won, I get whatever I want tonight." Rick nodded in agreement, straining to grasp her words as she pulled her panties to the side and teased herself with his swollen, throbbing cock, his precum sticking to her delicate skin. His mind was swimming. He felt dizzied- drowned by emotion, by lust, by something else- something he had not felt in eons. He groaned when he realized how wet she was; he slipped inside her with ease, making them moan conjointedly, and Michonne reached for his curls and pushed him deeper.
"Mmm," she murmured, and she crossed her arms over her stomach and lifted the hem of the white tee, tugging it up and pulling it off. She dropped it on the floor and Rick's mind further clouded at the sight of her in only panties. " Now, bring your hips forward and spread your legs," Michonne demanded and he followed her instructions immediately, holding onto her waist as he did so and grunting unintentionally when he felt himself sink deeper inside her. "Mmm, yes," she moaned when she began to move and Rick licked his lips, watching her closely, enraptured by the way she was claiming him and powerless to stop her even if he wanted to. "Kiss me," she whimpered and he lifted his mouth to hers, sucking at her full bottom lip. He teased her tongue with his own.
He ran his hands down her silky, toned back, moaning softly when she pulled harder at his curls and held onto them for dear life, her grip on his hair providing just enough leverage to help her bounce on his cock and grind against him until a sweet little sound flew from her mouth. She came powerfully and suddenly, pulling him close and moaning in his ear as her hips bucked frantically, her climax taking her by surprise and making her whimper. Her nails sank into his flesh. Hearing and feeling her come apart in such a swift and shocking way set his body on fire for her.
Rick wrapped his arms around her tightly and lifted her from the couch. Michonne squealed, still breathless from her climax, followed by more of her giggling, and it was a delightful melody. He readjusted her, lifting her body until she was draped across his shoulder, her ass in the air. Proceeding down the hall, he laughed. All at once, she struggled against him and somehow managed to free herself; he had underestimated her strength, and her prowess- her ability and agility turned him on all the more.
"Put me down right now before you break your back, old man," she playfully scolded. Rick chuckled, and watched as she entered his bedroom, once again blessing his usually boring room with a regal air like a queen. When she faced him and lifted her gaze, a little smirk on her plump lips, her deep brown eyes bright and full, Rick felt his heart swell and his dick throb. He licked his lips, studying the way her skin shone with perspiration.
Ever fiber of his being wanted her. He was aching- and it was a hot, heavy ache, a nuisance of an ache. He knew the only way to rid himself of such a pining was to give her everything her body asked of him. And when she lay sated in his bed, he would in turn be satisfied.
"I want to taste you again," he confessed. Because I know it might help you forgive me for upsetting you. And I know you want the same. And then I'm gonna fuck you until you come again for me, because that's what we both need." He removed his shirt and took two steps towards her, nudging her lightly towards the bed until the mattress was behind her knees. "Are you gonna let me?" he asked, smiling slowly at her and raising a brow. He waited with spine-tingling patience for her reply.
When she nodded, Rick came at her, and Michonne's heart leapt. He pulled her to him roughly with his right arm and their bodies and mouths collided. With the dextorous grip of his hands, Rick boosted her upward and tossed her back onto the bed. Michonne gasped and caught herself on her forearms and elbows, growing more wet with each second passing. He climbed into bed and crawled towards her, all playfulness gone, and her stomach churned. She hoped he wouldn't have mercy on her. She hoped he wasn't gentle. Because if anything could keep her from her sadness, it was the sensation of Rick Grimes slamming his cock into her without a hint of leniency or tenderness, with kindness only pouring from his lips and not his body.
His mouth descended upon hers, his kiss forcing her back onto the pillows. She moaned for him and opened her legs, giving him access to herself like she was needy and desperate, and perhaps-she thought- perhaps she was; she did not care. Still kissing her and lapping messily at her tongue, Rick pushed her panties to the side and eased a finger into her wet center, taking her by surprise. Michonne whimpered softly, comfortable beneath his touch, unwinding. She let her vulnerability and sensuality be known.
Rick kissed her body as his finger worked inside her. She squirmed, and as his lips found her left nipple hard and begging, he took her breast into his mouth and withdrew his finger. He sucked it clean; the taste, and the smell of her sweet musk filled his nostrils and coated his tongue, setting him harder than he thought possible, and he returned to her clinging walls with an additional finger, and to her nipple with his mouth. She groaned for him, squirming, unable to control her breaths. Making her feel good filled him with pride. He sucked at her breast and it sent her hips into a passionate rhythm of grinding. To test her limits, and to get another awarding, alluring exclamation from her, he added a third finger, stretching her out, relishing in the sounds of her arousal: the frantic moans and the sucking kiss of her femininity clenching around his slender-jointed extremities. Michonne couldn't think straight. All she could do was squirm and whimper like a madwoman. His thick, kenetic fingers working inside her drove her wild.
Giving her nipple a few more licks, Rick sucked at her breast and pulled it further into his mouth before trailing kisses down her flawless skin. He stopped to tickle her thighs with his growing beard and she gasped, animated, electrified, as he planted kisses around her clit, fingers stilled. He teased her until she was on the verge of begging, her pussy wet and glistening and finally he gave her what she wanted. He buried his nose against her and parted her with his tongue, moaning from the pleasure he brought her as he lapped at her hood and exposed her soft, shuddering little button.
He fastened his mouth to her, closing his lips around her clitoris, and he began to finger her again. She released a deep, gusty groan, her hands chaotically reaching out to delve into his curls and hold him in place. Her trembling thighs tightened and untightened around his head and she coated his beard in the piquant sap of her flower. They were both losing their minds, Rick from giving pleasure and Michonne from receiving it. Rick felt as though he was seconds away from exploding in his boxers before he could even get the chance to be inside her. And Michonne flared up, realizing she was on the brink of orgasm. One of Rick's hands crept up her stomach, and his fingers found her still-wet left nipple. He pinched it, and she shattered.
He hummed as she spilled down his throat- like a flower, indeed, bittersweet, and he slowed his affections, surprised when Michonne enacted once more her strength to drag his mouth to hers. As they kissed, the taste of her mingled on their joined tongues. She was furious. She hated him for making her feel so good- it was driving her crazy. Her desire for him blossomed all over again, and Rick could sense it; he was beyond flattered. Michonne locked her legs around Rick's waist and forced him roughly against her. He hardly had time enough to align himself. He eased every aching inch inside her. Together they found a strong, rushed, repeated movement of bodies, tangled in every way, moaning in tandem and enjoying each other.
Rick couldn't believe how attuned he was to everything her body told him to do. How odd to know he had only met her two days prior and they could already make each other feel so good. He was fascinated by his ability to find one of the places on her gorgeous body calling out to him, begging to be lavished and when he showered that place with licks and kisses, she dripped around him, squeezed him, covered him in her sweetness. He had never made a woman's body respond to him the way Michonne's did.
He became further unglued as he watched her writhe beneath him, her breasts bouncing as he beat into her pussy again and again, the bed rocking and aiding his deep thrusts. Michonne gasped, tossing her head and reaching for him, cupping his ass and opening her legs wider to push him deeper. He gritted his teeth. She was so wet- so snug. He knew he had to slow his pace or he wouldn't last.
"Oh, fuck," she mewled, pouting and closing her eyes as Rick began to torture her with his thrusts, filling her to the hilt and then withdrawing until the tip of his dick throbbed at her entrance, and when she squirmed and begged for more, he slipped back inside her again so slowly that she looked as though she might cry. Her big, brown eyes fluttered open to peer up at him and the look on her face gave him butterflies, her full lips pursed and begging to be kissed.
Shit, she's so goddamn beautiful, he thought. "So beautiful," he accidentally said aloud, dipping his head and covering her mouth with his as he began to pound into her again, her chatoyant eyes closing once more when he slipped his tongue into her waiting mouth and sucked at her lips like candy. She moaned for him, whimpering his name against him and he nearly erupted, aching to fill her up again, yearning to feel her tightening around him, creaming around him, covering him with her own juices. He realized, as he stared, lust controlling his every action, that a part of him wished she wasn't on birth control- that he could fill her up over and over and over again, until he knew for certain that she carried his child. The wishful thought floored him.
"Yes," Michonne whimpered, gasping from every thrust he gave her. "Oh... yes. Harder, Rick. Faster." He would do whatever she asked, if only to make her moan some more, to see that special look on her face when she came. And as he heeded her instructions, he knew she was on the brink. He knew exactly what she needed- precisely the thing to send her over the edge... because if he couldn't make her come right then, he would lose it.
Rick kissed her once more and dragged his mouth away to shower her with kisses wherever his lips could reach. He listened to the sounds that filled his normally quiet room, the music they made together: his lips smacking as he sucked at her radiant skin, her moans of ecstasy, his grunts as he thrusted, the bed rocking, the claiming of her pussy and the slap of his balls against her delicate womanhood, in the most pleasant way, he had to clench his fists and bite the inside of his cheek to keep from emptying himself deep inside her that very second.
He kissed and licked all the places he could reach on her body that made her tremble; her neck, her shoulders, a hidden spot in her ear, and lastly, her nipples. He rolled his tongue over each of them, admiring the flawless skin of her breasts; her dark, hardened nipples gleamed in the moonlight from the saliva he left behind as he sucked and nipped and lapped at them, until she was so wet that the sounds she made for him grew louder. Their bodies moved in perfect sync. Michonne dared to open her eyes for more than a few seconds, and when she did, she regretted it. She had never met a man so annoyingly good-looking. He looked good on horseback. He looked good eating. He looked good eating pussy. And he looked especially good when he was pounding into her like a untamed brute. Rick stared back, thrilled to watch her unhinging.
Suddenly, she went quiet. Her eyes rolled shut and Rick felt her nails sink into his skin, her brow furrowing and her lips parting before the song of orgasmic moans was sang. Though Rick knew she was trying to hold on, with a few more determined thrusts and slow flicks of his tongue, he sent her crashing over the edge, powerless to stop herself, the vulnerability and stunned surprise on her face making her sexier than he ever thought possible. He pulled her closer and watched her as she came, his hands at her nape and against the small of her back, his sight trained on her expression of ecstasy.
"Oh, f-. Ooh, Rick. Yes!.. Fuck, yes," she cried with each thrust, arching beneath him, creaming around him, her fingers tugging harder at his curls to pull his mouth to hers. He kissed her back, sucking at her plump top lip, tonguing and tasting her breathy gasps of pleasure while continuing to pump inside her. He loved to watch her come apart beneath him, her hands clawing at the back of his neck, her body trembling. He felt her strong thighs shudder around his waist- saw her bottom lip quiver when she moaned- and he knew he was hopeless to stop himself, no longer able to hold on, no longer needing to.
He gave in, burying his face in her neck as his hips bucked. He came so hard, he bit his tongue, clenching his jaw and moaning softly into her shoulder, his teeth grazing her flesh as he emptied himself deep inside her; each thrust, every spurt of hot, sticky seed prolonged her climax until her whimpers went silent and she was breathless. They could hardly move. Rick lowered her back down onto the bed and they were left to lay tangled in the sheets and each others limbs.
"Goddammit, Michonne," Rick huffed when he wasn't completely out of breath. "You're going to kill me." She began to giggle faintly, covering her face with her hand, and the sound and feel of her laughter made him smile. He was tired beyond belief but all he wanted was to stay beside her. Knowing that he wouldn't see her until Friday night made his heart ache, and being around her already felt natural. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled as much as he had with her. He had to find out what she was hiding. Rick knew- if he could find some way into the haunted halls of her heart- they could be more completely close. And Rick wanted to be as close as he could with Michonne- he wanted to be on the most affectionate and intimate terms with her. "C'mere," he whispered, pulling her close.
"Mmm," was her only response and Rick moved to lay down at her side as she turned away and curled up so that he could spoon her and wrap his arm around her. As she drifted off to sleep, Michonne promised herself: because she had met a man so kind, she would tell him about what had happened.
Rick reached for his blankets to cover her and settled back against the pillows, smiling drowsily when he realized she was fast asleep in his arms. He nuzzled closer, inhaling the scent of her hair until, he too, was greeted by warm, comforting slumber.
It felt wonderful- to fall asleep quickly, not a worry or care on his mind, only the sound of her steady breathing and the way she giggled and moaned and spoke imprinting itself in his brain and replaying in his dreams... and before Rick blinked, he was waking to taste of his spearmint toothpaste and Michonne's plump lips against his. His tongue yearned for a taste, but she was gone.
"Bye, Rick," he heard Michonne whisper, the clock burning the image of 5:35am into his brain as he drifted into heavy slumber, too tired to wake after a previous night of little rest. "I can't wait til Friday..."
a/n: once again, back in 2017, someone posted a few of my chapters elsewhere. as those are incredibly old versions, these new updates are revised because I'm a completely different writer now and there is always room for improvement. anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and I always appreciate some feedback if you have the time, Princess N