Her love had the warmest hands- calloused, sturdy, and heated, as if he had held them over the fury of a crackling fire. Michonne had missed his hands. She ached for those caresses, pining for the way he gripped at her flesh. She missed how one warm, strong palm would often, in the heat of the moment, close around her neck with soft, caring pressure, or capture her face and cup her cheeks, pressing further to tug at her hair.
And now, those hands were on her body again, their stirring urgent. It had been so long since she had felt his touch–so many long, lonely weeks. Torturous months. Agonizing years. He was yanking at her top and at her skintight pants, and she could sense the fabric stretching, hear the stitches straining. Hot, hurried fingers made a swift effort to unhook her bra. Before she could blink, Rick was dragging her panties down her bare legs. He dove at her. She was thrilled, and startled, in the most delicious sense, and she began to tremble. In the blackness, Michonne could see only the sparkle in his deep, ocean eyes. His gaze bore into her, leaving her dumbstruck, and the weight of the desire in her core began to pool.
" I missed you," he murmured with a distinct warble humming in the halls of his chest, and his striking features–his face! His handsome face– came into view. " I can't tell you how much I missed you." How she had yearned to hear his voice singing in her ears again. The tears came, and before she could cry, or answer, he captured her lips with his. She had been ravenous for his kiss, and she met his eagerness with her own. Words failed her.
All at once, he was deep inside her, where he belonged, and Michonne was delirious with pleasure. "I love you," she heard Rick say, his confession soft and sweet on his tongue. He sounded far away. Why, all of a sudden, did he sound so far away? Unashamed, she opened herself to him, moaning and kissing him with all the ardor she had nursed in their disunion. She welcomed his thrusts, and those hands– those hands she had so desperately missed were stroking her body, stoking her flame, feeding her soul. She reached for him, knowing the end was already near. Her thighs quaked, her lips quivered, and she could hold on no more. She heard herself crying out–.
Michonne woke with a start, gasping and clutching at the air above her. He wasn't there! She sat up on her pallet and sobbed, her belly warm with longing and her heart feeling hollowed. It felt so real. She could still feel him- could still hear his voice. No, goddammit! Not another dream! If she didn't find him soon, she was going to lose her weary mind…