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There is one chapter left for this fic.
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Light mauve
She pulls her curl into a bun, and he watches her get ready to leave as she always does at the end of their interlude. Each time is more painful. Each time, he does not think he can continue with their little affair.
He stands and grabs his pants. She never says much, and he no longer cares to try and change her mind. He opens the drawer, and he picks the stack of money. He efficiently does the math. She is expensive, but he might be in love with her. Sometimes until he pays her, he likes to pretend that she is more than his favourite whore who he pays regularly to keep her out of other men's bed. It helps with jealousy.
" Here," he finally dares to speak when he is ready to part ways.
She grabs the money stacks, and her face twists in her business-like expression. She immediately begins to count the money. He chuckles to hide the hurt and anger.
" I have never played you with your money," he cannot resist the impulse, and he sounds as annoyed as he feels.
She remains unbothered, and she continues to count meticulously each dollar.
" Others have tried," She calmly replies when she has the certainty that he has given her the correct amount of money, " but that is not the issue with you," she sounds annoyed, " here," she returns the thousand dollars, which he added.
" You talked about wanting new shoes last time," He refuses to take the money, which she returns.
She does not care, and she puts the money on his bed.
" fucking take it," He orders, and she rolls her eyes.
She annoys him. He hates her pride. She remains inaccessible to him. He cannot afford her, and she never ceases to remind him. It does not matter how many dollars he throws at her.
" What did I say about gifts the last time you tried?" She asks while she searches her purse for a cigarette.
She is rightfully angry. She hates it when he refuses to comply with her rules. He makes it hard to leave each time. She would have dumped him as a client if she did not cherish his company so much.
" Take it as a tip," He amends, and he wants to negotiate.
He needs the illusion that they could be a normal couple. He hates their contract. He almost wishes she had said no when he proposed to enter this farce. He wishes that she has allowed him to find ingenious ways to earn her affection.
" keep your money, Shane," Sasha kindly replies, " You need to stop." Her tone is stern.
Her fingers brush his jaws. Shane swats her hand. Sasha sighs, and she hates how their Friday nights always end. He takes the separation better on Mondays and Thursdays. Somehow, he wakes up to the illusion every Friday. Although, this is different. Valentine's day is around the corner.
" You don't say that when I pay you for whatever you do," He retorts.
Shane wants to leave the room. It feels like a prison. He goes and sits on the bed. He watches Sasha blow smoke and drains her cigarette. Perhaps, he wants to retain her. Therefore, he wants to start an argument, and so she can stay until she does not want to leave. For once, she should stay for other reasons than money. What a mistake it was to enter a contracted relationship with the perfect woman.
Shane always wants more, but he lacks the bravery to abandon the crumbs, which she is willing to offer. Therefore, he would pay for another night if she wants to take the money. The amount of money never matters, and he has enough to burn on a daily basis. The anger and the hurt are harder to pay, and yet he does it voluntarily.
" Don't do that," Sasha dismisses Shane. She cradles his face. Her look chastises him as if he is a petulant child, " I have to babysit my nieces tonight."
Some nights, she is kind enough to show him glimpses of her life.
" Take the money," He insists, and he always does when she allows him to gaze longer at her.
She should have never told him about those shoes. However, that night, she needed any form of conversation, which could warm her broken heart. She talked about vintage Hermes shoes, which she could not get for Christmas.
" Shane…" Sasha sighs, and she crouches to drag her shoes from under the bed.
"I want to make you happy," he says with certain exhaustion, " I can make you happy." He adds, and he is tired that she refuses to accept it, " For once, I want your head out of whatever shit has you doing this," Shane points out the door, " leaving." He breathes out of fear of such a simple word.
Sasha laughs, and she can do nothing else. She begins to wear her shoes. She shoves the money, which she earned in her purse.
"You want to make me happy," Sasha laughs humorlessly, "You're years too late." She says, " have you tried it with yourself." She asks while aware of the answer. " You're too old, too divorced, too broken, and too fucked to find it. You won't find it with me because I'm as broken as you're." She adds with a sharp cutting tone.
"You're a bitch," Shane states, and he picks the cigarette burning at the end of her fingers.
" professional deformation," She replies.
Shane chuckles, and he draws a blow from the cigarette. He holds the smoke until his lungs ache.
" Sasha?"
" I don't want the money," She replies, and she joins him on the bed, " babysitting can wait," she takes back her cigarette.
" What do you want?" Shane asks because nothing satisfies him.
Rick opens his door, and he does not welcome the intrusion. He rubs away the exhaustion. He is a bit too harsh, and the ring scratches his eyelid. He curses, and he opens his eyes to take in the scene. Rick's eyes stop over Shane, and later, they travel to Shane' s companion.
" I don't need a recovery whore," Rick groans.
He does not understand why Shane believes that he can find healing between the legs of the next whore.
" How much do you charge for the time you wasted?" Rick asks the woman standing by Shane's side.
She laughs at his antics. She stares at Rick, and it is enough to annoy him. She puts her hand on his door, and Rick pointedly looks at Shane.
" Can I come in before you throw money at me?" She replies with amusement.
She carries an air of nonchalance, which is too familiar. She asks but her confidence makes it an order.
"No," Rick deadpans, " Shane, take your girl away, and then come back because we need to have a conversation about this." He adds with disinterest for how it comes across.
" Can you shut the fuck up and let me place one in," Shane finally speak. He pushes Rick's door, " Go inside, Sasha," He adds with total disregard for Rick's disapproval.
" Sorry.." Sasha says while she squeezes between the doorframe and Rick.
Rick sighs, and he leaves the door. He walks to his living room, and he returns with his wallet. Rick pulls as much cash as he can find.
"Here," He extends toward Sasha, " Now, it is enough for a cab and for you to get the hell out of my loft." He forcefully places the money in Sasha when she shows no interest in it.
" a fucking gentleman Michonne said," Sasha rolls her eyes, " I guess you do pay for cabs ." She passes the money to Shane.
Rick freezes for a second. He looks at Shane with anger. They have explored the topic of Michonne more than they have talked of Rick leaving his fiancé the night after Christmas. They never talk about his ex-fiancé, and they have long ceased talking about Michonne. There is no use revisiting the past. There is no need to open fresh wounds.
"You can't keep your mouth shut. Who is she? Your favourite whore and your therapist." Rick says.
" You're an angry bastard," Sasha counters, and she remains unfazed when Rick glares at her, " This is why you don't fall in love with your favourite whore." She pointedly looks at Shane.
" He had issues before your friend," Shane retorts
. Shane turns to face Rick, and his expression is vocal. Rick sighs, and he walks to the bar. He told a tumbler, and he immediately drains it. A glass of alcohol is not enough if Michonne is the topic of conversation. Rick carries the bottle, and he takes a sip to find the courage to endure what should follow.
" What do you want?" Rick asks the pair with voluntarily displayed annoyance.
Shane looks at Sasha. He has no idea why she asked to meet Rick, but he was eager to do something for her. Is he a fool in love? Shane prefers to ignore the answer to that question.
" We need to talk about Michonne," Sasha does not beat around the bush.
Rick laughs, and he takes a big gulp of scotch. He looks at the bottle with frustration, and he might hate it because it reminds him of her. Rick throws the bottle against the wall.
"Fuck her," Rick says, " Is it enough conversation for you."
Sasha and Shane do not flinch at his reaction. They share aggravated looks. Shane goes to the bar, and he pulls out three tumblers, which he immediately fills with vodka. Scotch is no longer an option. Sasha lights a cigarette, and she takes a seat, which Rick never intended to offer.
" For what it is worth, she is sorry. She tried to do good by you." Sasha says with compassion, " but trying is just that." She adds with a shrug.
" oh, how kind of her. I don't give a shit. Fuck her" Rick replies with subdued anger. " For what it is worth, I don't give a single fuck about how sorry my wife is." He reiterates in case Sasha has trouble understanding.
December 24th last year
" Elope with me," Rick is not sure he heard Michonne right.
Michonne looks at Rick with a certain melancholy, and her eyes convey the anxiety. She waits for him to respond with some logical reasons why they should not elope. He has a fiancé and an okay life.
Rick stands, and he begins to wear his clothes. He picks the used condom from the floor, and he looks for a place to throw it. He passes Michonne her dress. She laughs with a sense of relief. He is reasonable for two. Michonne laughs because it is better than to shed pointless tears. She takes her dress, and she wears it.
" We have to swing by my place," Rick says, and he extends his hand for Michonne to hold.
She blinks in confusion. She waits for Rick to rephrase his rebuttal. He does not clarify his statement, and he patiently waits for her hand. Michonne stops moving. She stops laughing. She inhaled until her lungs threatened to implode. She lunges to him, and she jumps in Rick's arm.
She surprises him, and he almost does not catch her. Michonne presses her lips against Rick's forehead. They make precious fools. What beautiful idiots they are. Michonne can help but to think that way. Michonne has always foreseen the future. She understands how much of endearing lunatics they are. She wraps her legs around his waist. Her arms around his neck tightly hold him. Michonne kisses Rick with no care for the world.
" Do you want to marry me?" She asks for reassurance.
Rick laughs between the kisses. He is not familiar with laughing out of pure euphoria.
"Tonight is not an option, but tomorrow, I will."
She accompanies him to his loft. They kiss by the door while he fumbles with his keys. He kisses her with her back pressed against the wall. Fortune has it that he owns the floor, and so they do not have to worry about the neighbour interrupting. They laugh more than they kiss. They laugh as much as they breathe. Rick eventually opens the door, and they spill into the loft.
"Ouch," she groans because he is heavy.
Rick stands, and he pulls her up with him. They laugh because it is fitting of the moment. He drags her by the hand, and she happily follows. She does not intend to return to her apartment until she marries him. Michonne does not trust her resolve. She wants to elope. She needs to elope.
" The blue one, it matches your eyes." She says when he shows her two shirts.
She watches him pack his bag. She picks his shirt. She jokes about her future housewife status. They laugh until it hurts.
" Don't change your mind!" Rick says when Michonne abruptly becomes silent.
He wants to elope. He needs her. He deserves to laugh from happiness.
Michonne stares at the ceiling. She extends her hands toward the roof. She turns to lay on her back, and she smiles at Rick. They are happy, and it feels stolen and odd. They hold to it.
" Michonne Barnes, twenty-eight years old. I hold a master in criminal law. Your turn," she asks with curiosity, " Now, that you know more about your future wife, tell me more about my future husband." She sits with her legs under her knees.
Michonne's smile is bright. She is gorgeous. She is his future wife. Although, the last bit sounds crazy. He learned her surname seven seconds ago. Rick leans toward Michonne, and he kisses her.
"Richard Grimes. You wore diapers when I was eight." She rolls her eyes at the comment, " I'm thirty-six years old. Third soon to be a second-best stockbroker in Wall Street. Your future husband." He adds with the inability to contain his bliss.
Rick finishes packing his bag. She does not complain when he adds his computer. She leaves the bed, and she returns with the charger for his computer.
"I'm not marrying you under influence," She says when she notices the bag containing his pills.
"It's not influence," Rick argues, but he drops the bag on the bed.
"Thank you," she picks the bag.
He watches her move around his room with ease. She belongs in his life. She stops his starch on his desk.
" I want a honeymoon without an O.D," Michonne casually tells Rick.
He laughs because he does not believe he is an addict. He loves his job, and he often finds ways to make it easy. He laughs, and it is an odd thing to be happy. There is a dreadful feeling that he does not deserve happiness, and so he wants to guard it jealously.
"Which side of the bed do you prefer?" Rick asks while he closes his travel bag.
Michonne looks at his California king size bed. She wants to pick new bedsheets. Those left behind by Jessica are ugly. She wants bedsheets, which would make her his wife. It is an odd way to think, but she hates the bedsheets.
" far from the window," She answers, " I don't mind which side as long as the sun doesn't wake me up. " She adds to her first answer.
Michonne proceeds to remove her dress, and she heads to the bathroom.
"You're not a morning person. What else should I know?" Rick asks while he joins her in the bathroom.
She stares at the shampoing and the different soap. There are so many of them that she looks at Rick with almost confusion.
" You don't need them all," She asks while she proceeds to look through the different labels to find out the scent.
" Mint and citrus are the only ones I use. I hate the scent of peppermint." He tells her.
Every small information steers a small joy in Michonne.
"But you like mint. How does it work?" She asks with a teasing expression.
He laughs, and he begins to find it normal.
" one smell like mint, and the other smell like peppermint." Rick answers, and Michonne rolls her eyes, " I don't make the rules."
They are silent when she draws her bath, and she does not pick mint or peppermint. She picks lemon and pomegranates. Rick will remember that detail months later. He is certain he will remember it all his life.
"I'm allergic to seafood, I hate country music. I have a sweet tooth. I have no siblings. My shoe size is six and a half, and my feet are cold at night." She tells him because she wants to talk about her. It is a rare thing, and she dislikes talking about herself.
" I grew up in a small town in Georgia. I love country music. Peanut, I'm allergic to peanuts. I'm up by five the day when I sleep, which is not often. What else is worth knowing about me." He takes a few seconds to think, " Don't move my shampoo bottle from their spots or it's the beginning of chaos. Is that enough information for you?" Rick finishes.
Michonne nods, and she wants to discover what he cannot remember. She needs to experience him through everyday life.
She continues to set the water for her bath. Rick watches Michonne, and he commits to memory every detail. She loves citrus bath bombs, and he would have to get more. The water is cold, and he never met anyone who takes cold baths. It makes Rick smile. She is an odd woman.
" Do you want to join me ?" She inquires after his curious look toward her.
Rick sits at the corner of the bathtub. There is water on the side, which wets his pants, but he does not care. He shakes his head to reject the offer to join her.
" I don't take baths, and certainly not with another person inside. The germs," he explains.
Rick searches his pocket, and she discovers that he is constantly smoking. He places it on his lips, and he immediately enjoys the rush of nicotine. Michonne fills the empty boxes about her future husband, who loves country music and is allergic to peanuts. He has a germophobia.
" You're an odd one, Richard Grimes." She sighs and dips under her bath.
When Michonne resurfaces, foam covers her face. Rick laughs, and it hurts less each time he does it. The sensation of muscle pulling becomes familiar.
She is quiet in her bath, and he enjoys watching her. They are comfortable with silence. Generally, Michonne hates silence. It gives her time to think. However, she cannot think in Rick's presence. She loves silence next to him.
" What happens if you change your mind?" Michonne asks while she drags her body out of her bath.
" I will pay you for tonight, but you have to wait for the morning to find out."
Rick does not change his mind. He is excited, and he is happy. Michonne still wants to elope with him when morning comes. Rick pays for the plane ticket to Vegas.
He finds an engagement ring in the duty-free area. She insists on paying for his ring. She picks something that she believes he would like.
" Let me see," Rick says when she returns with the small jewellery bag.
She refuses, and she shoves it in her purse. He lets her look at her ring. It is an odd piece, which they find endearing. A solitary diamond of an obvious size without being extravagant and she loves her light mauve diamond.
Michonne does not change her mind when he sits by her side with his computer on his lap, and he begins to work. She watches Rick engrossed in his number. She still wants to elope when she discovers that he lied. Rick Grimes cannot hold a promise. He drags the bottle of pills out of the small pocket of his backpack.
" bad placement and I need to focus." Rick offers as a form of apology.
He takes the Xanax. She takes it for what it is, the excuses of an addict. She leans toward him, and she rests her head on his shoulder. They will not change their mind. Their flight leaves New York with the couple on board.
Michonne is not sober, and she does not believe she needs sobriety for a wedding with Elvis as a priest. She likes the taste of the champagne, which Rick picked. She will remember for a year that Rick Grimes knows his alcohol.
" You can see me before the wedding," Michonne's slender fingers cover Rick's eyes. " Rick," she argues when he kisses her.
Michonne attempts to slide in her wedding dress. She is happy that she picked something sober and elegant. It is easier to wear while tipsy.
" I helped you pick the dress, and turn around." Rick counters and he helps her zip the dress.
She twirls to show how well the dress fits, and she did the same two hours ago when she dragged him to the fitting room. It is a Chanel dress as she initially wanted. The white silk is perfect, and the spaghetti straps are like Michonne wanted.
" We're going to be late, Richard."
Rick has discovered that she resorts to using his full name when she wants to chastise him.
" Does it matter? We have no guest," Rick counters, " and you want it as much as I do." He bites her earlobe.
He already knows that her earlobes are erogenous zones. His tongue runs along the curve of her neck, and he places a kiss on the crook of her neck. Rick's hands push the skirt of her dress higher.
" My dress matters," Michonne reluctantly swats Rick's fingers as they graze her thighs.
He is aware of the satin texture of her skin. Rick's knees part Michonne's legs. He is careful while he lifts the hem of her dress, and he has a hand full of fabric.
" My dress," she unconvincingly cries when it sleeps from Rick's fingers.
He silenced her protests with a passionate kiss, and she wraps her arm around his shoulder. He backs her to their hotel bed. She returns his passion. Michonne eagerly undoes his belt, and in the rush of passion, Rick breaks the strap of Michonne's dress. Her perky breast spills in his hand.
" I will get you another one," he says before she can cry about her ruined wedding dress.
However, Michonne could care less about fabric. She only focuses on his weight, and the stretches, which his manhood causes in her cunt. She moans, and she grasps his shirt. She quickly loses herself to passion, and it is the first he does not pay for sex with her
She does not want another dress, and it does not matter how much he insists. She loves her wedding dress, and so they settle for finding a needle and threads.
" I'm sorry," Rick says as he kisses the crown of her head.
She smiles and continues to sew the straps of her dress. His clothes are in no better state, but he packed a bag. Rick changes into a new dressed shirt.
"It's a wedding, not a funeral." She points out with a small smile.
" I look good, Chonne."
She does not know how to react to the affection in his voice. Michonne chooses to laugh. She laughs, and he kisses her.
They are late for their wedding like Michonne predicted. Rick Grimes has no notion of a quickie. They have to book a new time slot for the ceremony. They do not change their mind during the five hours of waiting. The sober up the hour before the wedding.
" Here," Rick passes to Michonne a kit Kat, which he drags out of his pocket.
Her smile is toothy and beautiful. Last night, he learned that she loves kit-Kat. She would offer him half of the chocolate barre if she did not learn his dislike of chocolate.
" Here," she walks to Rick's backpack where her bouquet lies. " Before you lose your mind," she gives him his computer.
Rick's sanity rests on how productive he is in a day. His work might be his obsession.
" There is no Wi-Fi, " Rick replies.
Michonne pulls out her phone, and she turns on the hotspot.
" Now, there is Wi-Fi." She proudly retorts.
Rick stares at Michonne. Her locks rest in a bun, which his fingers have partially loosen. Loose strands fall in every corner, and she has given up the fight for her sight. Rick pushes some loose strands behind her ears.
" A few months down the road, you're going to hate my job." He knowingly says.
" I already hate it," Michonne smiles.
Their vows are nothing worth remembering. Michonne hardly remembers what Rick says between the slurred speech and her spinning head. However, she begins to think that she may love him.
Rick has a better grasp of what Michonne says in her vow. It is not the biggest love declaration, but she says sweet words.
Their honeymoon is a quiet night. Music plays on her phone, and she is by the toilet seat. Rick holds her locks.
" No more champagne for us," Michonne laments.
Rick laughs, and he never thought he would take care of his drunk wife during their first night as a married couple.
" Good," he agrees, and he passes her the water bottle.
After a few minutes, they exchange cigarettes and childhood stories. There are no traumas in their childhood. He is a trust fund baby, and she is a middle-class child. They both went to Ivy League schools.
" Yale," she guesses wrong.
" Dartmouth," He corrects with a roll of his eyes.
" Princeton," she replies before he can make a guess. " You picked up drugs in college." She attempts another guess.
" My first internship in a big firm. I want a job without dad's help. " Rick corrects, and he watches her water bottle.
Michonne picked smoking in high school, and Rick guesses right. She wanted to fit in with the cool kids. He was always the cool kid. There are many more things, which they do not share because it is an ugly reality. The silence follows a long conversation about nothing
" A song only one," Michonne says, and she waits for Rick to play what he considers a classic of country music.
Rick takes a dozen minutes to pick the perfect song. It is not what Michonne expects when the first notes play.
" Can I have this dance?" Rick takes her hand.
It is odd to have their first dance in a bathroom smelling like vomit and alcohol. The song only makes it odder.
" Your only chance to play country music, and you choose to play Sade," Michonne says between laughs while he makes her spin with no care for the rhythm of the song.
" I have my life to convert you into a country music lover, but our first dance to my favourite song is a one-time thing." He kisses her.
Of course, Rick Grimes' favourite song is king of sorrow. It is another fitting detail about her husband. Michonne returns his kiss with tenderness. He lifts her from the floor, and she wraps her thigh around his waist.
He makes quick work of her wedding dress, and the straps are again the victim of his eagerness. Michonne is less in a rush, and she wants to enjoy every second of it. She slowly undoes his buttons. She peppers his face with kisses. She laughs when the song ends, and the next one to come one is about dirt roads.
He steals her joy with a suave kiss. She pushes his shirt from his shoulders. Rick's caresses are feather-like, and he holds her with care. He might love her. His touch is delicate and tender. He understands how precious the night is to Michonne. It is beyond sex. She enjoys every kiss, and she is louder than he remembers. She welcomes the sweet nothing whispered in the hole of her ear. She searches and holds his enamoured look.
Michonne comes undone in many ways.
When he takes the week away to pursue his honeymoon, Michonne thinks Rick will change his mind about their marriage. He has never been on holiday, and it is an odd thing. She closes his laptop.
" five hours a day and nothing more," Michonne states as she sits on his lap, " Is this your idea of holidays?" She says while she kisses the tip of Rick's nose.
Another thing to learn about her husband, he does not understand the concept of vacations.
" My very naked wife on my lap sounds like vacations," Rick teases her, and Michonne laughs.
She loves his dry humour.
" I have to be creative if I want your attention," She counters.
Rick cradles her face, and his thumbs caress her skin glistening with a thin layer of water. She smells like his bath soap.
" It's more than sex," he softly tells her, or he asks her.
" which is why I booked activities that we have to do out of this room. Let's pretend to be obnoxious tourists. "
Michonne does not regret eloping. Although, Rick makes her night hell. She immediately learns that Rick Grimes lives to win and conquer. With an empty martini glass, she fumes with anger and frustration.
"Here, you're."
Rick rests his chin on Michonne's shoulder.
" I won," he proudly announces.
Michonne sighs, and she moves away from his touch. She leaves the bar stool, and she draws a deep breath.
" You won at the blackjack table. You won at the poker table. Is there anything left? A corner of this casino left unexplored." Michonne rolls her eyes.
Why did she waste her day? Why did she plan all these activities?
" You're mad," Rick confusedly asks.
Michonne discovers that her husband can be an idiot. She leaves the bar with Rick on her toes. She waits for the door to close to hurl her anger. Tonight, Rick discovers that Michonne hates public scenes.
" We missed Celine Dion' s show because you chose to play poker," Michonne draws a deep breath, and she goes to the bathroom to calm herself.
" You should have gone alone," Rick joins her.
Michonne discovers that her husband is a big fool who wants to drive her insane.
" I don't like Celine Dion. You do, Richard." Michonne points out, and she can help but laugh at the situation.
She does not regret eloping with the idiot facing her with an apologetic expression. Rick takes Michonne's hand, and he drags her to the sofa. He sits her on his lap.
" Is that bad?" Rick asks with genuine concern, " Can we get tickets for tomorrow and no more casino for me?"
Michonne caresses Rick's cheeks, and she smiles.
" I don't want to go watch a Celine Dion' s show." She confesses.
They elect the circus. Michonne loves the circus. Rick does not regret marrying her when she spends the night laughing. He feels proud to be her husband when she hides her face in his shoulder every time the trapezists do something dangerous.
" This some dumb show," She argues, " why would anyone wants to be so far from the floor." Michonne adds, " Can it end already?"
It does end, and the magic spectacle begins. Michonne watches it with childish fascination.
" Sweetheart, there is a trick behind everything," Rick says every five seconds.
" Shush, Richard," Michonne replies every five seconds, " I want to enjoy the show."
Rick rolls his eyes, and he picked the habit from her.
" It is a dumb show."
" You're the life of the party, babe," Michonne sarcastically replies.
It is the first time that she uses endearment. Michonne does not regret it.
" I would be happy if it was anything I enjoyed."
He enjoys how loud Michonne is when he hits her spot. She clings to his sweat covered body, and her nails dig in the scratches of last night. Michonne adds new ones. She likes to look in his eyes when he makes love to her.
She cherishes the show of emotions in those troubled seas. Michonne sinks her teeth in his shoulder, and she endures his trusts. His caresses are tender, and his kisses are passionate.
"Michonne…" his mind struggles to organise words.
She feels so good around him. He does not have to expand for Michonne to understand what Rick needs.
" Yes," she breathes out with eagerness.
Rick carefully wraps his fingers around Michonne's throat. He squeezes at each of his trust, and he slowly releases her throat when he leans to lick her jaws.
Although, she assumed from his personality that Rick was into bondage and masochism. He took two days of their married life for any form of rough play. She does not like him as much as he does, but she often lets him explore some kinks.
" Fuck," he breathlessly murmurs when he feels her pulse slow under his finger as he squeezes, and Michonne's nails sink deeper in his back.
Her thumb draws the curve of his lips, and he sucks it. She rolls her hips to match his strokes. He stops when she is close to an orgasm.
" Rick," She sobs when he slows his strokes to nothing but tip penetration, " babe, please."
Rick threads his finger between her locks, and he pulls her head back until he reveals her neck. His tongue draws the line of her elegant neck. He kisses her jaws.
" Please what?" His tone is authoritative, and he punctuates his question with a bite in the crook of her neck. He presses his thumb on her clitoris.
" Please, let me come. " She says what he needs to hear.
" Good girl."
She never knew praise kink was her thing until he made it her thing. Michonne does not regret marrying Rick Grimes five days into what should last a lifetime. She hates that he wakes up at five to get some work done. She cannot stand that he does not enjoy his vacations. She knows that he lied about the Xanax, and she has searched the entire room for the hard drugs.
" I don't want to go back," Michonne says after taking a blow from his cigarette. " Can we stay forever in this room?"
" I have to work."
Michonne does not expect a different answer. She smiles, and she rests her head on his chest.
" When you're ready to tell me why your work is all you have," Michonne says, and she closes her eyes.
" Have you begun to change your mind?"
Michonne laughs, and she kisses Rick. She does not believe it would ever happen. He makes her happy. He reminds her to laugh. She loves him.
"No."
Rick wakes up, and he wants their last day to be memorable.
"Sweetheart," he calls when his hand comes empty when he reaches from the side away from the window.
He senses it with dread. She has changed her mind. However, he foolishly hopes. He does the effort not to burn the pancakes. He opens the closet, and her clothes have not moved. His shirt is missing. Her wedding dress is gone. She has left. When he spends two days waiting for her to return, Rick has to admit Michonne has left.
For weeks, she does not pick her phone. He supposes she has changed her phone number. He never thought to look for her address. It takes a month before he receives the divorce paper. He does what she did with his calls. He ignores the divorce papers. He continues to wear his wedding ring. He works to the point of exhaustion. He regrets eloping with Michonne.