Thank you for all your reviews and support. I just love to hear from you guys.
I think I'm in love with all you. I'm taking us all to Red Lobster! LOL
-comewithnattah
6:03 pm Day 3
"So you fucked around and hooked you a country boy, Huh?" Daryl grunted out as he plucked a card from the deck in the middle of the dining room table. He wouldn't meet her eyes at first, hiding behind his limp brown hair.
Michonne scoffed modestly while she studied her cards to see if she could use the one he'd just thrown out. "Is that what I did?" she countered him coyly.
"It ain't?" Daryl finally sat back thoughtfully, bold enough now to stare her down openly, waiting for her response.
Michonne sensed a seriousness uncharacteristic of her friend. "I don't know if he's hooked." she lied.
"Don't know if he's hooked..." Daryl repeated sarcastically and turned his head to the side with a restless tick for a glimpse of nothing in particular. He saw Tara pointing furiously with a marker at a drawing that resembled a melting duck. Carl and Edith were blurting out answers while Judith played with a puzzle on the couch cushions between them. Glenn, Maggie and Carol were on the other side of the coffee table heckling them as they tried to guess Tara's uninspired work of art.
Rick and Michonne had enjoyed the better part of the day alone but, somehow, with the rain, everybody ended up together in the living room, dining room and kitchen that they all shared when they arrived in Alexandria weeks ago. The hum of multiple conversations over multiple games would have been much louder if Abraham had been in the room, but he and Sasha were at the wall, content to be on the front lines and secretly happy to be alone together. Abe was in rare form trying to make the persistently indifferent beauty beside him laugh. Sasha was easily succumbing to all his foolery smiling like daylight while the smoke-colored sky fell all around them leaving droplets in her raven hair that looked like stars.
Back in the house, Daryl's tone was playful but his mannerisms read somewhat annoyed- about what, Michonne wasn't sure. "I don't know what you want me to say... "She reached tentatively for a card, her eyes bouncing from his face to her hand.
Daryl smoothed some of his hair back and scoffed. "Yeah, he's fuck'n hooked. He's hooked like a pirate's hand."
The newly claimed woman tried to swallow a hot, rising smile. Flustered, she couldn't focus on her cards. What the hell combination was she going for? She felt a little like she was being interrogated but she didn't know to what end. "How do you know he's hooked?" she asked with a bit of attitude.
"C'mon dude, I known Rick's first wife." Daryl said with the unspoken acknowledgment that he was talking to Rick's current wife, "He never, ever looked at her the way he looks at you."
Michonne smiled at that, but at the same time she felt for Rick if what Daryl said was true. Talking about Lori wasn't something she and Rick did much of, but Michonne was well acquainted with being in a hollow relationship. She cut her eyes over to the man at the center of their discussion. He was standing at the kitchen island involved in a conversation with Father Gabriel. She could tell by the pleading look on his face that he wanted her to come save him from whatever painful conference the Father seemed to have ensnared him in. Amused, she abandoned Rick to his current circumstances with a cute little wink that said 'good luck', while she did a little interrogating of her own. "How does he look at me, Daryl?"
"Shit," the self-proclaimed hillbilly chuckled and flipped out a card, "Like you're gooder den grits."
Michonne laughed out loud but then collected it all into a quieter giggle behind her fan of cards. "I'll take that." She said of the hick-ish phrase. "And I'll take this too." She snatched up the card as it slid toward the discarded pile.
Unfazed, her friend followed up, "So?"
"So?" Michonne lifted a brow slightly and shook her head, confused.
"Look," Daryl dropped his entire hand face down on the table. "Rick can't go through any shit like that again." he said with authority. "I been holdin' my tongue, 'cos he's a big boy. And I know when his intentions are good... even when he couldn't quite give Lori the same look he gives you, his intentions were still good."
"Yeah?" Michonne got that but still questioned his point.
"But I don't know you like that..."
Michonne shrank an eye at that, unsure how to respond. "What do you mean you 'don't know me like that'? I'm your friend- I'm your family, just like Rick is."
"Yeah, I know. But I also know sometimes family like'ta break ya heart til noth'ns left. And I ain't talk'n 'bout how it broke him when Lori died... you seen'at for yourself. From what I seen'a them two together, she was long gone before she died."
"Well, damn, Daryl." Michonne closed the set of cards in her hand, finally realizing that Daryl had asked her for a private game of gin with a hidden agenda. "This is the most I've heard you talk in a month." She gave a weak laugh, pushing to rid the space between them of some its tension. Daryl returned a half smile and the tension remained. So Michonne just got on with it. "Seems like you have something you want to say, so you should just say it."
He exhaled. 'A'ight, I know you're a bad ass," Michonne basked in his recognition as Daryl leaned forward and rested his arms on the table interlocking his fingers, "but Rick is my brother... I ain't watching him go through that shit again." He reiterated that point and his voice strained in a way Michonne was not expecting.
She remembered Merle, his brother by blood, and his undeserved devotion to that one-handed jerk. Daryl's devotion to Rick made her love for the man eyeing her from the kitchen a little more worshipful and a lot more addictive. She looked around the room at all the people Rick had gotten here alive. She was one of those people. She looked at Carl with Judith now in his arms, both of them thriving and happy because her man, their graying guardian had one job: to keep them all safe.
Daryl's protectiveness endeared her. Her initial offense to his statements faded warmly over the features of her face, giving way to sentimental amusement, "Are you seriously asking me what my intentions are with Rick Grimes?"
Daryl saw the humor in that too and softened, just a tad, as he realized, "I guess I am. Bein' a husband and a father is his thing... but never figured a hellion like you for the domestic lifestyle..."
"I'm as domesticated as a house cat, Daryl, don't you worry." The vision in dark chocolate skin smiled wide and bright back at Daryl, then over at Rick, tracking her eyes to him past the obstruction of Gabe's tall frame.
"Cats can be assholes." Her gin rummy challenger retorted, not so convinced.
Michonne rolled her eyes at his relentless dissatisfaction. "I take it you're a dog person then?"
"Kinda partial to bunnies." Daryl joked honestly.
"Well, be easy, silly rabbit." She said, picking up her cards again to resume their game. "Tricks are for kids and Rick and I are two adults. Neither of us are playing games."
Daryl took a running leap then, and crossed so far over the line Michonne sat stunned, mouth ajar. "So you love him then?" His query making her heart boom visibly under the pilfered blue denim she wore.
"Daryl." She finally spoke, this time to set him straight, "Rick knows how I feel about him and trust me," her eyes widened with a new and touching, albeit grating, understanding of the closeness between the two men. "I know how you feel about him. If I give you my word of honor, swear on everything and pinky-promise you that our guy is in absolutely no danger of bullshit from me, can we please play gin instead of 21 Questions and enjoy the smooth sounds of you minding your business?"
She presented her curved little finger to seal the deal. Daryl caught her pinky with his own. "A'ight." he conceded, reluctantly. "Just remember, I know where you live." he joked with a humorously sinister eye. Michonne gave an affected eye roll, happy that that seemed to be over. But her mouth fell open again when Daryl laid out his cards in an arch and declared, "Gin."
She sat back and threw her cards at the table. "Son of a-!" she spit, biting her tongue, with disbelief. "Was all that just to distract me so you could win?" Michonne snatched up the deck adding in the loose cards to shuffle and deal another round, more than a little peeved that she'd been bamboozled in a game twice that day. Daryl would neither confirm nor deny her accusation.
He slid back from the table, chuckling and his gloating made her seethe. "You want a beer?" he continued to taunt her with his cocky repose and made his way past Rick and Gabriel, headed for the fridge.
Rick was standing behind the couch, holding Judith and grinning as he watched the game of Pictionary his son and chosen family were playing with a rowdy pitch when he felt the sudden urge for a snack. Denise's bowl of homemade salt and vinegar chips on the coffee table were barely edible and the bowl of popcorn between Eugene and Rosita only had kernels left. The latter sat- indulging the former on a pillowed floor- serving as his assistant in building some incredible engineering feat with Legos.
Rick sat his daughter between her brother and Enid and made his way to the kitchen, throwing a wink to Michonne's slick gaze at the dining room table, both of their expressions reminding the other of the naughty deliciousness they'd scandalized this same living room with a few hours ago.
When Gabriel saw Rick headed for the kitchen he abandoned his seat in the cozy arm chair where he was enjoying a solitary reverie, scribbling in a leather-bound notebook and followed him with a contemplative bearing. He made eye contact with the leader of their group and consciously made himself smile. The cleric always found he was a little nervous when he talked to Rick. He knew that just below Rick's good-natured temperament, laid an Old Testament fury that he'd just as soon leave undisturbed. He had been working up the courage to ask Rick this question and now, with the carefree mood in the room, it seemed like an opportune time to broach the subject.
"Hey, Rick!" The man of faith began, taking extra care to sound upbeat.
"Gabe?" Rick glanced up with a smile still rooting around the kitchen island drawers, looking for a blueberry cereal bar. He saw apple cinnamon, strawberry, raspberry but no blueberry. He knew there were only a few of his favorite left but he couldn't believe they were all gone while all these other flavors remained. Maybe Carl had beat him to them. Disappointed, he closed the last drawer and noticed Gabriel still there... with a weird, unnatural smile. "What can I do for you?" Rick asked in a cheerful tone that relaxed his bald-headed friend- just a bit.
Gabe smiled, a little more genuinely now, "I just wanted to say that I've been watching you and Michonne." He immediately winced at the stalker-ish vibe that sentence might have given and sure enough, Rick's brow raised and furrowed, a bit uncomfortable and very confused. "Not watching!" Gabriel corrected with an apologetic hand gesture and another forced smile.
Truth was, he had been watching Michonne for some time. He thought she was an extraordinary woman and uniquely beautiful. He had battled with himself over his religious vows to remain unfettered for the Lord and even then... well, Michonne scared the crap out of him and he could never get up the nerve to approach her. He found it curious that when he saw her with Rick- after all his prayerful pining away and hidden wishes- he wasn't disappointed or jealous. Gabe was pleased. He thought to himself that it was a perfect match. He felt compelled to tell Rick as much, too. "I've been-" he found a more appropriate word, "noticing you two... how happy you are together. I wanted to say it suits you both."
Rick felt an undeniable validation in those words. He certainly was happy and it felt amazing to be a man with a woman again, but not just any woman- with Michonne. He was even more gratified hearing that her happiness with him could be pegged a mile away by someone like Gabriel- who Rick assumed didn't know much about women, given his chosen profession. He looked over to the dining room table at the beautiful angel who knew how to hush his demons but keep the beast alive. She was biting the inside of her bottom lip in concentration as she arranged the cards Daryl was tossing her way, one by one in her hand. It was a familiar sight to Rick by now, one he enjoyed any time they made love. At those times too, she was focused on a win.
The man in black, clad with a collar, continued, "I know it's a common assumption that since I took a vow of celibacy, a man like me wouldn't have any interest in the attachments between a man and a woman- but that is a very incorrect assumption." he shrugged.
As a person who thought exactly that, Rick found the priest's words surprising and decided to pay him more than the usual attention. He didn't really know where Gabe was going with these comments but he was curious. He offered the thin, mannerly man a short, interested "Hmm." and nodded.
"I've always thought there was nothing more captivating than two lovers baring their hearts to one another, discovering how their pieces fit together, making their way on an exclusive journey in life side by side..."
Rick shifted on his feet with a slightly awkward grin, ducking his head but agreeing all the same.
Gabriel looked off into some arbitrary corner of the kitchen, now going off on a tangent, "...two people so full of passion for each other, so eager to make physical expressions of love, the Bible describes it as a most vehement flame." he spoke in reverent whisper.
Rick blinked, "Yeah..." He cleared his throat to bring the enchanted priest back to earth and drawled, "Well... that sounds about right."
Gabriel snapped out of it leaned into Rick's personal space with a quieter, more risqué tone, "Did you know there is a whole book of the bible dedicated to an erotic love triangle?"
Rick was aware but he acted surprised. Gabe didn't give him the opportunity to answer, his tongue loosened by his enthusiasm. "It ends with the young woman choosing a commoner instead of the wealthy, charming king trying to win her affections. She has faith in love and believes her poor shepherd boy is the only one for her." Gabe continued, "Seeing Glenn and Maggie together has given me hope that love like that vehement flame still exists." He looked into the living room at the named couple sharing a kiss over points acquired after Maggie had been able to get her husband to say the correct phrase with what could only be described as bubble hieroglyphics. Gabriel smiled to himself and then turned to Rick again, "And now... you and Michonne... I'm very inspired... excited..."
"So are we. I guess I..."
Gabe cut him off again as he went on with his confessions, "I wanted to talk to you because..." he began to feel sheepish again, "Well..." he swallowed, "In my old parish another priest, Father Gordon, always officiated the wedding ceremonies. But he never did them any justice... in my opinion. I just think I would give such a special occasion more... heart. You know?"
"I could see that." Rick's side eye was activated.
"So, I guess I want to ask..." Gabe's heart pounded, "if you and Michonne would let me... grant me the privilege of officiating for the first time over you two. It would be such an honor."
Rick would never have guessed that that would be final destination of the nervous preacher's ramblings and for a moment he just stood there stunned his mouth slightly parted, droning out a nearly imperceptible "Uhhhhhhhhh..." He stood there really wishing Michonne was a part of this conversation. He figured she would know what to say and he gave her a look of desperation as he scratched his fuzzy chin pretending to think. She only gave him a useless wink as if to say a sarcastic 'good luck'.
Gabriel had finally stopped talking, now waiting for Rick to mull it over but also give a quick answer, judging by the hopeful anticipation on his face. But his suddenly stiff commander seemed to need a bit more convincing.
"I don't know..." he sighed, "I don't even know if that's something you'd want to do. I mean, even I could certainly see skipping all the formalities... this world being what it is, and all. But you were married before. I can tell you're a man who believes in tradition and that sacred institution." Gabriel thought of how else he could recommend himself for the job. "I get the feeling you're like me, Rick: a romantic, through and through." His eyes fell away to his hands, not sure if it was a good move comparing himself to such a brave and resolute man. As Rick pondered, Gabe remembered he was holding his journal and his eyes lit up again. "I even write short stories, poetry. I... I... uh... was just..." he stuttered, flipping hurriedly to the page in his mind, "I was just sitting over there," he turned slightly motioning behind him to the chair he'd occupied, "I... uh... wrote this about you... both... well, kind of... more so... about you."
Rick didn't know how he felt about a guy- a priest- writing poetry about him. But he saw the sincerity in Gabe's eyes as he found the page and looked to Rick for his permission to read. Being in a merry mood, the lawman gave a single nod, both curious and uncertain.
Gabriel took a deep breath and began:
"The soil, hard and packed
barren and cracked-
dry like the bleached bones of corpses
feasts tasted of dust
his heart pumping rust
'til rivers sprang forth like hundreds of horses
a woman of dusk
brought light he could trust
to lead him to drink and revive
and so the man sank
to his knees on the banks
living and truly alive"
Rick had prepared himself to be freaked out by whatever Gabe had written, but as the thinly mustached man began to read, he saw himself in the words. He kept his eyes on his boots, arms crossed and leaning with his hip against the marble top of the island. "Read it again." he requested, quietly- reverently. Gabriel jumped to happily oblige him. And this time with the recital, the born-again widower remembered his hands in the hard packed Georgia clay back at the prison, sweltering under the sun, trying so hard to make things grow there. He had tried so hard to make that place home until he found his home on the other side of a chain-link fence.
That prison was "haunted" by Lori and staying there would have been like living in a fallout zone. No matter how hard he fought to keep it, he lost that home because he wouldn't give up Michonne... or maybe he'd lost that home because he was always meant to leave. He had to lose it to finally close that door and open another.
He knew there was no way Gabe could know about his sad toiling on the grounds of the West Georgia Correctional Facility or out there on the road after. Alexandria's poet was not there when he was beaten and bloody- half dead- or when a knock came at the door and the sight of her, distorted through the peephole, had felt like a miraculous healing. Even as his ribs ached and the taste of blood stayed in his mouth, Rick had sank into the couch, ready to live like he had never lived before. He was ready to take on the world, but the woman who'd made him smile through the pain wouldn't let him, reminding him he'd been unconscious the day before. But he was awake and now months later, he was living and truly alive.
Rick looked around the room at all the people Michonne had gotten here alive. He was one of those people. He looked at Carl with Judith now in his arms, both of them thriving and happy because his woman, their watchful warrior had one job: to keep them all hopeful. Rick's eyes started to glaze and his chest tightened with a new view to their love through the thoughtful clergyman's eyes. He cleared his throat to expel the lump of emotions lodged there, eyes still trained on the noisy living room scene. "I should prob'ly talk to her about this first." he finally answered Gabriel, "Don't think I should rush it. If it comes up and it's something she wants to do. You'll be the first to know."
"Fair enough." The pious writer agreed, clutching his notebook excitedly with both hands. Gabe went back to his chair, grateful not only because he'd survived this discussion but also because he had been able to touch the heart of the stern former sheriff.
"Hey, Rick you want a beer too?" Daryl asked as he made his way to the fridge.
Rick took another sip of his beer as he stood on the back deck and looked out on the back yard of their home. The tall grass was calf-high but sparkling with little beads of rain. The clouds in the sky were racing by with a rushing breeze and the sun was dazzling but soft and warm on his face. He had left the ruckus inside to think about Michonne and his life, Michonne in his life- how Michonne is his life. He knew what he wanted and he knew that he had it, but he wanted to be a different man for her. She deserved better than what he used to give Lori before he took a bullet in the line of duty that day. Lori deserved better than that but she just didn't know how to motivate him like Michonne did. He was grateful he had that experience to fall back on because there was no way in hell he was screwing this up. He was going to be the man pleasing Michonne in any way she needed or wanted for the rest of their time on earth, he was determined.
Gabriel was right. Rick was the kind of man who believed in marriage, monogamy, mutual exclusivity. But Michonne had just expressed apprehension about her individuality being obscured in their relationship. While Rick didn't care what other people thought, he did care how Michonne felt. He didn't think a conversation about saying actual vows would be advisable now. He would go with the flow- be organic- like she'd suggested and follow her lead. So far, that had served him well. Very well.
That matter resolved in his heart, he suddenly had a powerful urge to replace the smooth brown neck of his beer bottle with the smooth brown neck of his woman, drink from her lips and experience that true intoxication only she could give. As he turned to go find her, she was coming out the back door to find him.
"Found you." She declared with the prettiest smile.
"Let me guess... you won the game?" He estimated, with a sexy grin, based on her giddy appearance. He took another swig of beer then sat the bottle on the flat wooden hand rail behind him.
"I did. I did." She announced with a bow and advanced over the wooden planks of the terrace, her hands behind her back as she swayed her hips gracefully, without even trying.
"Of course you did. C'mere." Rick extended his hand and she reached for it happily, still keeping one hand suspiciously behind her back. "What you got there?" He inquired after her secret stash and was elated when she untucked her hand to reveal the bar in blue wrapping.
"Saw you searching. I hid the blueberry ones for you." She waved the treat back and forth in front of her face, her shoulders crowding her ears as she teased him playfully. "Carl will eat any flavor, but I know these are your favorite."
"Where'd you hide 'um?" Rick asked, watching her tear into the silver blue wrapping as she eased into his form. He trapped her between the railing and his chest, her back side flush against his front and her perfumed proximity rapidly sent his blood pumping to one place.
Michonne arched her back instinctively at the feel of him on her damaged derriere, frowning slightly at the pain but not easing away from the pressure. She was learning that she liked a little pain when she was close to him. It was like the urge to touch an electrified fence with the tips of your fingers and the thrill you get when experience that jolt of power and survive it. Who knew she'd like a little pain with her pleasure? She thought about Deanna's words that someday pain would be useful to her and she smiled to herself at that self-realization as she fondly remembered her friend. The Congresswoman from Ohio had told her to figure out what she wanted for her whole life. She never thought it would be this simple; but this was it, this was what she wanted for her whole life- being in Rick's arms with the sun on her face.
"I'm not telling you where I hid them. I have to hide them from you as much as I have to hide them from Carl." she chuckled shaking her head. "You'll just eat them all in one day. I have to ration them out to you... as I see fit." Rick slid his hand up from her waist, past her navel, between her breasts and laid his large palm at her neck, stroking her jugular with his thumb. Michonne leaned into that embrace, letting her head fall back on his shoulder while the sun rays kissed her cheeks. She broke off a piece of the cereal bar and brought it up to his lips near her neck. "Only when you've been good." she ruled bewitchingly, looking out over the dancing green grass with a smirk.
"So what did I do to deserve this one?" His other hand roamed south until he slipped his thumb into the waistband of her jeans and his other four fingers softly caressed the v-shape beneath her zipper.
"You were nice to Gabriel." She giggled as she recalled his dour expression. "I saw you struggling through that conversation. You're so cute."
"And you were no help." He accused her as he chewed and swallowed another bite.
"Hey, I was in the middle of my own awkward conversation." She argued with a shrug.
"Thought y'all were playing cards."
Michonne scoffed, "I thought so too, 'til he started asking me what my intentions are with you."
Rick laughed, "You're jokin'."
"Believe me, I wish I was. But he grilled me..." She lifted her head to look back at the love of her life who was very amused, "He grilled me and threatened me!"
"Good."
"Good?" Her eyes bucked at his approval of Daryl's behavior.
"Yeah. So you won't break my heart." Rick whispered feeling tipsy on her scent, nuzzling his scratchy beard into her neck.
She sucked her teeth and pursed her lips defiantly, "I ain't thinking about Daryl." She dismissed him and bumped her round booty against him with a dramatic pout. Recalling her conversation with the overprotective archer, she suddenly beamed, "He did say I was a bad ass, though... I didn't prompt him either."
"I told you everybody knows." Rick squeezed her tighter, leaning her slightly over the rail, his need becoming more apparent as his beefy hard-on pushed onto her pronounced backside ever deeper. "Everybody knows you're takin' all this Rick-ness like a champ... It's obvious only a true bad ass could handle me." He growled hot against her neck, sending her spine to shiver and every follicle to tingle.
He wasn't lying.
"Ha Ha." She deadpanned, turning around to face him and popping the last of the blueberry bar in his mouth. She nonchalantly balled up the wrapper and stuck it in his jeans pocket then rested her arms on his shoulders, locking her fingers behind his neck. Rick rolled his eyes and shook his head at her mischief. "Babe, seriously, I think us being together is driving our people a little crazy. Carol and Maggie think they're Abbott and Costello, Denise lecturing us like she's ready to put us in time out, Daryl talking to me like I'm some horny high school jock and you're his 16 year old virgin daughter..." Rick's cheeks burned, cracking up at her commentary of the last few days.
"Add the church Father to the list."
"Oh! No way." Michonne gasped in shock. "Gabe too? You guys were talking about us in the kitchen?"
Rick nodded. Leaving out the marriage bombshell for a more appropriate time, he explained, "He said he's inspired by us..."
"Oh... well that's sweet. I guess." She put her head on his chest and hugged his slim waist with a contented sigh.
"...to write poetry."
Michonne set her teeth on edge and crumpled her face, "Yeesh... and maybe a tad creepy..."
Rick laughed again, the echo beating against Michonne's ear from his chest, "Yeah that's what I thought too. 'Til he read something he wrote... wasn't bad."
She rocked him a little enjoying the afternoon breeze, leaning against him with her eyes closed. "What, was it like the whole 'roses are red' kinda stuff?"
"Naw. It was actually kinda romantic. Something about dirt and corpses..."
"Ah, yes! The epitome of romance..." she said sarcastically as she met his eyes again.
He grinned and the wrinkles at his eyes creased, blue orbs flashing like sparklers on the fourth of July. "No, really. It was good. I can go get'em... have 'em read it to you." Rick turned to do just that, but Michonne pulled him back to face her with her fingers in that scruffy silver beard.
"Naw," she copied his heavy country accent, her dark thick lashes flickered and he saw the auburn flecks in her eyes highlighted by the shining sun, "I'd rather hear a few lines from you."
Rick looked away timidly, "No. You wouldn't." he promised her, turning tomato red. "All I got is that 'roses are red' stuff."
Michonne gasped pretending to be shocked. "Are you gonna let..." she pulled her tightly drawn nipples higher up his body and stole a kiss, "Father Gabriel..." She pulled at his bottom lip hungrily, "out-romance you?" Michonne stood back leaning against the banister. She dragged her hands up her body, outlining her curves for him to salivate over. She pulled her hair up to the top of her head, giving him a look at her profile, the contours of her neck as her skin guzzled the light around them. "This doesn't make you want to compose a verse."
"Damn, baby. You're beautiful." Rick reached for her. But she gently deflected his hand.
Michonne brought her fingers to her face and traced her thick pillowy lips. "I want some poetry." She bit her finger and took him into those bedroom eyes. "These lips don't make you want to romance the fuck out of me?" She slid her tongue out to wet her candied kisser. "They were so nice to you earlier." She winked that same 'good luck wink'.
"I remember." He breathed heavily, adjusting his swollen cock.
Michonne dropped her head back and let her locks swing between her shoulder blades as her hands crept toward her abundant breasts and tense nipples until the little dark sprouts were between her fingers, sharp under her shirt. Rick wanted to undo those buttons so badly; he could taste her honeyed skin. He tried to think of some words to rhyme... but he was hooked to her like life support- and completely brain dead. "These two don't make you want to give in to the poetic side of yourself?"
Michonne pulled up the bottom of her shirt and Rick's eyes feasted on the sight of her soft onyx skin and the curve of her hips. She turned her back to him and looked over her shoulder at him, the thickness of her ass calling him proudly. The shirt she wore, bunched up, revealing the small of her back
and the dip of her spine
disappearing into the hug of her jeans
filling out, to meet the chunk of her thighs.
She gave her own hefty bottom a smack and her lion-hearted hero swallowed audibly, his eyes locked and mouth watering at the animation of that prime perfection. "Rick!" She snapped her fingers securing his dreamy eyes, once again, on her flirtatious browns. "I can't hear you." Michonne raised a brow twirling one of her dreads around her finger, "Don't I inspire you, daddy?"
Rick realized he hadn't known how ready he was to hear her call him that until it came drizzling off her lips like honey. He was caught in that honey, adrift in the pornographic use of such an innocent term. A low growl escaped him and he spun her around, snatching her into his heavy embrace. Michonne couldn't tease him a second longer once she felt his brutal bulge leveled against her belly and thigh. Poetry or no, she knew she had him right where she wanted: on fire and melting like wax all over her. And Michonne loved the sting of the heat.
"Roses are red." Rick said, his lips smacking on a pull from her mouth, "Violets are blue." He backed her into the railing behind her and sat her there, knocking her knees apart with his hip. Michonne gasped with a ready smile as he pulled her closer, placing his big hard cock right at her quivering center. "Daddy wants one thing."
She didn't know what she'd started, but when she heard his rough voice confidently take up that title, she felt her sex growing wetter and slicker as she threaded his dark brown curls through her fingers. "Mmm." she exhaled, driving her buzzing clit against him, suddenly in a frenzied state. She completed the verse she'd been begging him for and whined, "And I want it, too."
"For the love of tits and toast!" Abraham's voice trumpeted unexpectedly. Michonne's grimacing face pulled away from Rick's and they both looked back at their interruption. Her pleasure once again foiled by the big ginger in the doorway, she thought for a split second about asking Rick to kill him… or maybe even doing the job herself.
"They're back here, folks." Abraham called to the party inside then turned back to the couple trying to catch their breath and hollered with an impressed tone, "Gotdamn, Rick! How do you do it? This is the stuff of legend. The next time I stumble in on you two mid-bang, I'll just grab a bowl of popcorn and take notes."