A/N: A small teaser written from a prompt by kendrawriter at Tumblr:
Rick Grimes as a crime boss, ala Blacklist. Michonne as the FBI agent trying to take him down, only to find herself forced to work with him to take down an entire crime network. There's just something about him. Can she do her job and keep her attraction in check? He's dangerous, dark, and irresistible. She's the kind of woman he'd risk it all for, but he's too clever to go out like that. A battle of wills. A game of cat and mouse. SMUT.
I may write more for this.
His words were still ringing in my ears: We've all done the worst kinds of things... His deep inflection sent a shiver snaking down my spine and through my core. Is it wrong that the sight of Rick Grimes standing there, covered in someone else's blood, made me feel warm? Flushed? That his cold, steely gaze, piercing mine, caused a persistent pulsating between my malleable thighs? I exhale loudly and close my eyes, even though my darkly shrouded bedroom is still, and there is an uneasy absence of light. I picture him, drenched in the deepest of reds; his sharp, blue eyes watchful and intense. His crooked smirk, brash and ever so inviting. Slowly, my timid fingers trail southward to find eager lips already swollen and moist at the thought of him. It is wrong, I breathe as my fingers dip between my folds; slick and firm, how I envisage his cock would be as he takes me in every known manner. Filling me in the most delicious way. I bring my sodden fingers to my mouth and suck them clean, imagining that I can taste myself on his dripping manhood. I moan for a moment, resume my previous ministrations, and then rub my throbbing little bud. It is wrong that I want him so much. It is so wrong.