"Look into my eyes,
they will tell you how much I love you."
― Luffina Lourduraj
Rick waited inside the open door of Michonne's apartment. He had a pizza box in one hand and a case of beer in the other–neither item was acknowledged by Michonne. Her focus was on his haircut, and how much was chopped.
She reached upward to touch, and he leaned forward to allow her. He was seeking approval but willing to accept a reprimand. Instead, he was kissed passionately, and with a fervor unmatched, he almost dropped everything right there in the entryway. Rick found enough restraint to sidestep himself inside, kicking the door with the back of his foot closed.
Catching his breath, "I guess we actually share the same thoughts."
"Can we talk about it later?" Michonne tugged at his t-shirt, causing Rick to place the pizza and six-pack on the closest thing by the door, her overflowing laundry basket.
"Yeah."
"You have a condom?"
"Yeah."
Rick had only one. He was going to make good use of it too. What Rick didn't account for was his inability to feel satiated. He was insatiable.
Sex. Sex. Sex with a more than willing partner was more than Rick could handle. He pumped, humped, pumped, grind, humped, and pumped some more. After an overwhelming amount of full-blown sweaty missionary, Rick fell fast asleep, content, mission completed.
The next day a creeping reality crossed his mind after checking his wristwatch while stranded in Michonne's unkempt apartment because she had taken his car. He had never tossed the condom that was dislodged and smushed under him. The stained semen sheet was on his agenda to take care of once he finished his shower and towel-dried his skin. Within a couple of hours, Rick had Michonne's apartment slightly more organized. A bold liberty he couldn't prevent himself from taking while waiting for her to return.
Michonne: Don't you dare touch my laundry.
... Too late!
Michonne: I can't talk to you. I am very angry!
... Why not?
Michonne: I explicitly told you to not touch my laundry.
... After the fact.
Michonne: I will never leave you alone in my apartment.
... I don't want you to leave me alone in your apartment. Now that I know what type of underwear you like to wear. I want you here to wear them.
Michonne: I'm bringing your car back on my lunch break.
... Do you want me to heat up a slice of pizza for you? We still have leftover pizza.
Michonne: We?
... Yeah, we. Problem with that?
Michonne: No.
... No, what?
Michonne: No problem.
... Let me see your face.
Michonne: There are rules while in between phone calls. You of all people know that!
... Never stopped you before. Let me see your face.
Both shared heart eyes. It was more than enough confirmation for both of them as soon as face-time started and abruptly ended due to Carol the supervisor staring right at him.