A/N: Sooo... hi. It's been a while, I know. Quite honestly, I needed a bit of a break. If you follow my Tumblr, I'm sure you know it's because I was disheartened by some of the reviews on the last chapter. Firstly, I do want to say a huge thank you to those of you that have come to my defense. You really didn't have to, so please know, whether you enjoyed the last chapter or not, I truly appreciate your support. So I'll be repeating some of what's already in the feedback, and I know no one's looking for a lecture, but I just want to put out the reminder, so hopefully you won't go out into the internet doing this to other people.
Let me just emphasize that I love differing opinions. I think the most interesting parts of this story (and any story) are in the gray areas, and with that comes different interpretations. So I appreciate your feedback. But those of you that are rude and callous just for the sake of saying something – why? Every single person that posts work here does it for free. They use their own personal time, on top of jobs/family/school/real life shit, to share work with you just because they want to. That doesn't mean it should go without critique, because I think that makes us better. But why comment just to tell someone you're no longer reading their story? And don't accuse them of purposely fucking with people or writing a story with the intent of depressing their readers. Because I can guaran-goddamn-tee I don't have time to put hours upon hours of my life into something just to make strangers on the internet mad. Also, if you no longer care whether Rick and Michonne get together in this story, feel free to stop reading. You don't have to announce it. You don't have to waste your time on something you don't like. Just go. I promise nothing bad will happen to you. So I just hope that some of y'all will think about what you're saying before you decide to leave some shitty review of someone's work. Kindness goes a long way, especially when you're getting something in return for free.
Anywho. Thank you to those of you who express your opinions, be they good or bad, without coming off as condescending and/or rude. I love these debates. I love talking to you. I'm also super glad this story is almost over because I am exhausted, lmao. (No, but really, thank you.) -Ashley
16 - Lights On
"Ma, what are you doing?"
Josephine took her time turning from the cabinets that she'd been examining, though she couldn't help but continue to scan the kitchen as she answered her daughter. "I'm just looking," she assured her, her tone defensive. "You've gotten so skinny, I was concerned you didn't have enough food around here."
"Oh my god," Michonne mumbled, already beginning to regret her decision to ask her mother to come. After the year they'd spent apart, she almost forgot that she was an expert in being judgmental. "Can we just get through this list? I have to leave soon."
"Yes, I'm well aware that you have to leave soon, Michonne. I wouldn't have rushed down here otherwise," she reminded her pointedly. "I don't know if you're aware how much a same day flight costs to this place, but it was enough for my bank to call and ask if everything was all right."
"And I appreciate it, Ma," she was sure to say. "But there's no use in you being here if you don't know what to do..." She was trying, probably unsuccessfully, not to sound agitated, but her mother had been in Anguilla for all of six hours, and she was already driving her crazy. Of course, Michonne's stress over trying to make her 6:00am flight – and more to the point, trying to save her relationship with Rick – wasn't helping.
"Girl, go on," Josephine waved her off, dismissing her unnecessary concern as she continued toward the refrigerator. "I'm listening."
"So I've got four guests coming in today. Do you remember who's picking them up from the airport?" she asked, testing her so-called listening skills.
"Katie," she answered, not missing a beat. "I just check need to check them in. And a young man and woman named Branden and Jamilah, whom I've yet to meet, will show them to their rooms and take up their bags."
"All right," Michonne sighed, relieved that she'd taken heed of her instructions. So relieved, she elected to ignore her removing all the contents of her fridge. "So in the mornings, you'll need to handle breakfast for all the guests. Can you do that?"
"What about lunch and dinner?"
"Just breakfast," she confirmed. "We do a happy hour at five, but it's just a 'cocktail of the day' sort of thing. Ryan will take care of that."
"Now have I met him yet?" She returned to the counter where Michonne stood, setting cartons of coconut milk on the space between them before returning to the fridge.
Michonne watched for several beats, wanting to ask what the hell she was doing, but in the interest of time and her own sanity, she decided against it. "Not yet," she answered the question instead. "He'll be in around noon."
"Lord," Josephine sighed, shaking her head. "How are you comfortable with all these strangers coming in and out like this?"
"They're not strangers; they're my staff," Michonne corrected her gently. "And this is a place of business, so it comes with the territory."
"It's also your home," she maintained. "Just you and Andre? Is that even safe? Have you researched the crime rate here?"
"We're fine, Ma."
"Can Carol come back once everything gets settled with the babies? I felt much better with her here with you."
"That's not part of the plan," she admitted, her tone turning sullen. She'd been constantly reminded of how much she missed Carol, even with all the other things that'd happened since they had to rush out of there. "She was always supposed to go home in the new year."
"But plans change, Michonne."
"They do. But right now, we're all just hoping Andrea gets through these next two months okay."
"Two months in a hospital bed certainly won't be fun," Josephine acknowledged, seeing the gloomy expression that had claimed her daughter's face. "But it's better than the alternative. And it's better to have professionals close if anything else does happen."
Michonne nodded, appreciating her encouraging tone. "I know."
"So. Back to this breakfast," the older woman sighed, remembering that time was still of the essence here. "What types of meals do you make for the guests?"
Michonne pushed a small, bright green box across the counter toward her mother before replying. "Coffee, tea, juice, an assortment of fruit, some sort of bread, and some sort of meat or seafood. This is full of recipes and suggestions," she explained, tapping the box.
"Okay, the recipes are a bit much. I'm the one who taught you how to cook."
"Well I learned to make breadfruit from a chef here," she retorted, her eyebrows raised, "so maybe take a glance at what's there?"
"Oh, well excuse me," Josephine playfully mocked her pompous tone. But she did decide to relent – albeit reluctantly – because she could tell that her daughter knew what was best for her business. She was doing well here. Against her wishes and better judgment, her baby girl had come to this little island and made a place for herself. A life for herself. And as hard as it was hard to accept that she probably wasn't going to come home anytime soon, it was a relief to see that her decision turned out to be a good one. "I'll look," she promised her, accepting the small box. "Your guests are in good hands."
"I know," Michonne grinned appreciatively. "I don't think there's anyone else I'd trust to keep Andre and run this place while I'm gone."
"Is that so," she replied a bit cryptically, already sifting through the recipe cards.
"Well, probably Carol since she knows the place now," Michonne appended. But her mind quickly strayed to Rick and how she absolutely would've trusted him with this – in fact, that was the plan, in her mind. But he was the reason she was leaving, so that didn't matter much now. "I dunno..."
"While you're standing there looking pensive, you wanna finally tell me what it is you're rushing off for?"
In response, Michonne cocked her head to the side, searching for a way to answer that question both honestly and delicately. It'd been hard enough to reveal to her friends what was going on – luckily, Rick hadn't exactly given her a choice there. But she didn't have the aid of his loose lips now, and the idea of telling her mother, who loved Mike like a son, that she had every intention of being in a relationship with Rick Grimes instead, was a bit terrifying. This was a conversation she wanted to ease her parents into, and here she had all of five minutes to explain it before needing to leave for the airport.
"I take it you're not off to Miami to see Andrea?" she gleaned from her daughter's silence.
"No," she shook her head. "I, um… I said something pretty terrible to one of our friends. And... it was the last day they were here, so we didn't get a chance to resolve it, and I really need to apologize in person."
Josephine nodded, though she could tell that Michonne was being purposely vague about names and details, which was unlike her – or at least it had been in her previous profession, and she liked to believe her daughter hadn't abandoned everything about her old life. "Would this 'friend' happen to be one Richard Grimes?" she decided to ask directly.
It was Michonne's turn to nod, her innocent, wide-eyed gaze making her look like the little girl that always got caught in her mother's closet, playing dress-up in all her fancy suits and shoes. "We're umm... a lot of things... changed for us with this trip."
She could hear the hope in her child's voice, but it was cloaked in a lot of trepidation, so she immediately reached out to take her hand, calming her. "You know, it's funny," she started to reveal, her tone measured as she gazed into a pair of scared brown eyes, "your father told me this would happen years ago." She nodded when Michonne stared back, obviously surprised, willing her to simply listen to what she had to say. "I didn't see it. He did, way back when you were in college. At your graduation, actually. He said you looked at Rick the way I look at him." She chuckled, hearing her husband's voice in her head; her smile identical to her daughter's as she thought about it. "But still, I never noticed it. I never wanted to, because you and Michael were so perfect together, and I wanted you to have a perfect life," she intimated. "I hated the idea of you being in love with a man that would never love you back, so I preferred to believe that your father had no idea what he was talking about." She paused, studying Michonne as she soothingly stroked her hand, taking note of her packed bag sitting just a few feet away. She understood now why she was running back home after she'd been so determined to stay away all year. This was a romantic gesture. "But he loves you, too..."
She nodded again, unsure whether her mother was asking her or telling her, but she knew it to be true all the same. "I know," she whispered, contorting her face to keep herself from crying. "You said you'd pray that I'd find what I was looking for," she said, hoping she remembered the goodbye they'd shared this time last year.
"I did," she affirmed, squeezing her hand. "I do."
"Well I found it," Michonne sighed, a broken smile on her face as her eyes welled with tears, because she had no clue how this was going to turn out. But she'd be damned if she didn't try. "Turns out he's in Atlanta."
Josephine quietly laughed in reply, hating that she would have to concede to her husband that he was right. But inwardly, she was beaming with pride, because Michonne was learning to live her life on her own terms, doing the things that she wanted to do. From the day she was born, she and Roger tried to set her on the path of least resistance. Get good grades, go into a respectable profession, and find an equal partner to share your life with. Because that was what they did. Because the world would be hard enough on her, and they wanted her to have a good life in spite of that. But it was actually quite inspiring to see Michonne take her life into her own hands this way. Getting to a place where you're comfortable doing exactly what you want to do? Maybe that was a perfect life. "Good," she said, gazing at her proudly. "Good for you."
"Hey, darlin'."
Rick smiled innately at the sound of mother's voice, her sunny southern drawl an instant mood-lifter when she picked up the phone. He could already hear Judith yelling in the background, and he wondered what they were up to over there. "Hey, Mama," he greeted her via his car's speakerphone. "I'm leavin' the office now, headed your way. Are they about ready to go?"
"You're leavin' already," she questioned him, though mostly talking to herself as she checked her watch. She was stunned to find that it was already 7:00 pm – the time she spent with her grandchildren always flew by. "Shit."
"I purposely left late so you could have some extra time," he chuckled. "Though we had a lot of catchin' up to do here, so you actually helped me out, wanting to pick them up today."
"Well you did take them away from me for Christmas and New Year's, so I had some catchin' up to do, too, y'know."
"My apologies," he smirked.
"So to answer your question, no, they are not ready to go," she told her son pointedly. "I'm right in the middle of cookin' dinner."
"Well how long's that gonna take?"
"Tell you what. Why don't you go on home and take the night off," she suggested. "I can take 'em back to school in the morning."
Rick chuckled at the idea, but he wasn't sure how he felt about having them sleep over at grandma's one day into being back from vacation. He was trying to reestablish their routine here. "I dunno…"
Cindy sighed into the phone, having known before even asking that this would be a fight – her older son had become such a stickler in his old age, and she'd told Michonne as much when they concocted this little plan. But she wasn't going to back down either, because even if this was all subterfuge, she'd also genuinely missed her grandkids over the holiday. "You owe me this, Richard."
"Mom…"
"They've got uniforms here. I have Cinnamon Toast Crunch for Carl and Judith is easy. I even live closer to the school," she reminded him. "So what's your excuse?"
"I don't have an excuse," he admitted. "I just want them back in school mode. Vacation is over."
"Lord, when did you get so boring," she teased him, her exuberant laugh filling his car. "The kids told me you were fun in Anguilla, but I don't know if I believe 'em."
He couldn't help but smile again, appreciating the way his mother managed to cheer him up without even trying. "I'm just tryin' to strike a balance. The same way you did with us."
"I know," she granted, turning serious for a moment. "Bein' both parents isn't easy. Which is why you deserve a break. Two weeks on vacation and you still had to see their faces everyday." She laughed again before pausing the conversation to instruct her granddaughter, "Judith, go turn off that pot for me, sweetie."
"What are you cooking?" Rick asked out of curiosity.
"Well your son asked for peas and rice, so I went ahead and made them some Hoppin' John since I had black eyed peas left over from Sunday."
"That sounds good," he remarked distractedly, his mind now on Michonne and how he missed her cooking. He missed her. It'd been two days since they left the island and they hadn't spoken yet – by his own design, of course. But with a few days' space between them, and the kids gone for the night, he could use the free time to finally give her a call. He knew that avoiding the problem between them was never going to fix it. "I mean, I guess I don't really have a choice here, do I?"
"I already have 'em, and they're quite happy here. So no, not really."
Rick let out a sigh, mostly at the thought of being alone with his thoughts for the rest of the night. "All right, well y'all have fun, I guess."
"Don't sound so miserable," Cindy chuckled. "It's one night without 'em. You get to go home, kick back with some whiskey and just enjoy some quiet."
"Well they're usually quiet at home," he submitted.
"You know what I mean, Rick. Go enjoy your solitude. Walk around naked. Do whatever you want."
He laughed heartily as he made the turn toward his house instead of heading for the highway. His mother was such a hippie, but he loved her often unconventional wisdom. "Is this what you did when me and Jeffrey were gone?"
"Damn sure did," she cackled.
"All right, well I'm probably not gonna do that," he continued to grin in amusement, "but I am gonna head on home."
"You're sweet."
"Well I didn't have the best day, and just hearin' your voice cheered me up, so… I guess this is my way of thankin' you."
"You wanna talk about it?"
"Nah," he quietly declined. "I'm gonna go home and just… try to turn my brain off for a bit. You enjoy the kids."
"All right, darlin'." She could hear this discontent in her son's voice, and it was hard to not just spill the beans right then and there, but she was counting on the fact that whatever happened, seeing Michonne would eventually cheer him up. "Well we'll give you a call in the mornin' on the way to school?"
"I'm gonna call them in a couple hours to say goodnight," he informed her. "But I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Try to have a good night, okay?"
"I'll try," he chuckled. "'Night, Ma."
Amused, Rick ended the call and turned on his podcast, allowing that to carry him the rest of the short ride home. It was actually a bit of a relief he wouldn't have to trek twenty miles across town to his mom's house in Smyrna. It'd been such a long day, trying to pick up where everything left off before the holidays, all while fielding questions he didn't have the answers to about Shane and Andrea. Listening to everyone's vacation stories, one by one as they came by his office to greet him for the new year, telling the same sugarcoated version of his own trip in return. He would enjoy going home to some peace and quiet – a vacation from his vacation, so to speak.
It was only another ten minutes before he was pulling up to his splendid Sandy Springs home, his eyes narrowing on it when he noticed some of the lights had been left on inside. Since Lori passed, he'd made a conscious effort to make sure everything was off before leaving for the day – she always used to get on him about it, and he was trying to do better. So he found it strange that he'd missed them today, but chalked it up to the forgetfulness that happened after being away for a while, and he continued into his garage.
When he walked inside, the alarm system didn't prompt him to disarm it; the bright kitchen that greeted him had an empty wine glass sitting on the counter – all of which should've worried him. This definitely wasn't the way he left things. But instead, it stirred something within him. An excitement. A hopefulness. He could feel his stomach drop to his feet as he stepped farther into his home, and he was immediately met with the vision of Michonne standing at his kitchen sink. Wearing a simple jeans and t-shirt and a shy smile, she was a vision – one he almost couldn't believe he was seeing. His face contorted into a frown, relaying his confusion and all the conflicting emotions that came with it. The ones that still wanted to be mad at her were at war with the ones that wanted to pull her into a kiss that lasted the rest of the night because he was just so damn glad to see her. "Hey," he croaked out, unsure what else to say.
"You said you wouldn't ignore me again," Michonne replied, her timid smile not fading as she took a few steps toward him. She could see in his expression that he didn't quite know how to react and figured that opening line the simplest way to explain why she was there.
He responded with a quiet nod, taking that moment to admit to himself that he was wrong for that. He'd reverted back to his 21-year-old form – the person who purposely hurt her feelings, wanting to make her feel the way he did – and that was a shitty thing to do. "I know," he eventually whispered, also taking a few steps in her direction as his mind filled with all the words he should've said while he was busy not talking to her. "I needed... I needed a minute, and I should've just said that," he nodded. "That wasn't fair. But—"
"Rick," she started to cut in, wanting to offer her apology, because she didn't want him to think she was there to pick a fight. But he seemed anxious to speak, and so, she wanted to listen.
"I um – I don't know if you remember this, but... when I proposed to Lori, you told me I was gonna ruin my life." He nodded as he said it – a simple statement of fact. "And I'd thought about it a lot over the years. Especially when times were bad with me and her, and I would think, you know, 'Maybe Michonne was right.' M-maybe I should've waited for you. And maybe you would've come around if I had." His voice was soft, almost hoarse as he spoke; as he stared Michonne in the eye. "But the truth is, I think this is how it was supposed to happen for us," he went on. "I think we needed to be who we are today... grown up. More self-aware. We needed the experience of knowing each other intimately in all these other ways. So we know exactly what we're losing if we don't give this a shot." He leaned into the counter, mostly in an effort to keep some sort of distance between them. If they got any closer, he wouldn't finish. Her expectant expression was really testing his resolve. And he needed to say this. They needed to talk.
"I shouldn't have ignored you," he submitted again, appreciating that she was allowing him the space to go on. "I saw myself doin' it and I wanted to be bigger… I wanted to answer you, but I couldn't. Because I saw you giving up on us – on this – and it hurt. I've been so honest with you. From day one, I've laid myself bare, waiting for you to do the same. Understanding why you couldn't, but waiting all the same. Half our lives we've been at this, Michonne. And we're here, right at the finish line, and suddenly we're stumbling all over each other," he shook his head, his gaze wandering out of the window to his backyard. His covered pool reminded him of the time they'd spent in Anguilla; how he wished they were back there now. "I just wanna be in love with you," he whispered, swallowing down his emotions as he looked back at her. "You don't have to be scared. And you don't have to hold back with me. But I do need you to meet me halfway. Because the only way this works is if we do it together."
Michonne gazed back at him, trying desperately to hold back the tears that wanted to slip down her cheeks as she listened to him speak. Instead, she softly chuckled to herself, because she'd made all these plans with the intent of surprising him, and it was all supposed to culminate with this big speech about how she wasn't sure whether they'd ended on the wrong note or if they were starting on one, but either way, she wanted to try again. How she wasn't giving up, and she wouldn't allow him to either. And now, none of it mattered – he said it for her. "I know that now," she nodded, both her tone and expression solemn as she took another few steps toward him. Meeting him halfway, so to speak. Relieved when he joined her in the middle of the kitchen, their eyes locking on one another. She moved to touch him, her hand cupping his bearded cheek while her thumb gently caressed his bottom lip. "I know that now," she repeated, assuring him that she meant it.
She then pulled him into a kiss with the same intent, but instead of reinforcing her resolve, she melted into him as soon their lips touched. And she found herself smiling when he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him with a quiet moan. In an instant, all of it felt so familiar as she hooked her arm around his neck, her fingers twirling through his curls as their lips smashed together in long and short kisses. She sucked at his top lip, slipping her tongue into his mouth before allowing him to return the favor. She could feel his heartbeat thumping against her chest as she inhaled him; as he pinned her against the kitchen counter, his fingers snaking down her body until he was palming her ass.
It was all such a giant, wonderful blur to Rick. He wasn't sure he'd even fully processed that Michonne was actually there; that they were alone and on the same page – two things that managed to elude them for much of their time in Anguilla. But as he felt Michonne's fingers move from his neck to his jacket, attempting to peel it off of him, he caught up rather quickly. This was happening.
Without a second thought, he kicked the kitchen stools out of their way before hoisting her onto the counter and swiftly removing his blazer; his mind already inside her pants, consumed with the thought of getting them off – or, more specifically, getting her off. His eyes clouded with lust as she sat there, staring at him, happily allowing him to undress her. While she kicked off her boots, his hands worked methodically slow in unfastening her jeans, first pushing up her shirt to reveal her wondrously muscular abdomen. He leaned in to kiss it, both his fingers and lips running over the ripples in her dark skin; his tongue licking through the lines and curves as her stomach flexed in response and she giggled at the ticklish sensation. Her fingers entangled in his curls while his lips covered any and every spot it could reach. All while he unbuttoned her pants, slowly revealing her lacy black panties. Reluctant to break contact with her skin, he licked his lips at the sight of those panties. He'd imagined, more than once over the years, his hands sliding them down her slender hips. And eager as he was to do it now, he continued to take his time.
Michonne watched him with a drunken smile as he seemed to revel in every part of her body. His eyes drinking in all her little imperfections, which normally would've made her self-conscious. But with Rick, she wanted him to see all of her. She lifted her hips, allowing him to pull off her pants, but she felt herself trembling just slightly as he pulled the fabric down her legs. From excitement, mostly, as she was struck with the realization that this was actually, finally happening. But a nervousness came with it, because this was actually, finally happening. She remembered the night it almost happened so vividly – the two of them on her couch, unmasking feelings they'd been suppressing for nearly two years. Now, nineteen years later, there was nothing stopping them. No Lori or Mike or guilty consciences to keep them from enjoying the hell out of one another. She could feel that anxiousness right down to her knees, just as Rick pushed them apart, taking position between them.
He licked his lips, staring her down in this t-shirt and panties combination that already had his dick pressed against the zipper of his jeans, he locked eyes with her, waiting for her to speak. To give him consent to go further. An eyebrow raised as his fingers gently squeezed the meatiest part of her thigh, his hunger apparent.
"What are you waiting for?" she breathed. She wasn't sure the heat between her legs wouldn't set him on fire soon.
"Permission."
She smirked at his answer, appreciative of his sense of morality in a moment like this, and she spread her legs wider for him, eyeing him as she did. "You have permission to do whatever you want to me," she whispered.
Rick took that opportunity to kiss her again, grabbing a handful of her locs to bring her close; his other hand slipping between her thighs, finding that lacy fabric again. His fingers slipped past the elastic to touch her bare pussy, her skin enticingly warm and smooth, save for a small patch of coarse hair above her slit. As his tongue explored her mouth, his fingers probed her lower lips, feeling familiar with both by now. He'd memorized her, especially the way her clit felt beneath his fingers. What made her writhe and what made her wet. She was already getting there, his middle finger lubricating with her juices as he gently pushed it in and out of her center, before trailing back up to her sensitive bundle of nerves.
Michonne could barely keep up with their kiss as he fingered her, an orgasm practically hanging over her head. It was almost a relief when he pulled back, allowing her to breathe as he focused on her neck instead. "Shit," she quietly purred, squirming from the feel of his fingers. They were so long and thick – she always thought he had nice hands – and god, he knew what to do with them.
"Lie back," he mumbled into her skin, her moans making him want her even more. He was desperate to taste her by then, her wetness driving him crazy. The sound of his fingers inside her was even louder than that of his lips smacking on her throat.
She did exactly as told, lying flat against the countertop, staring at the ceiling of Rick's kitchen. She'd sat in this place probably hundreds of times over the years – laughing, crying, gossiping... but certainly never this. She started to shake her head at this turn in events, mostly in some feeble attempt to rid her brain of any thoughts about Lori, but Rick had that covered, it seemed. Because her mind went blank the second she felt his tongue on her pussy. With her panties merely pushed to the side, he teased her with a long, wet suck of her clit that had her closing her legs on his head, both the surprise and the sensation sending her spiraling. "Shit," she grimaced at the pleasure.
He smiled at her instant reaction, his fingers tickling her hips as he took the waistband of her underwear and pulled them down – deliberately and seductively slow in his actions. His breathing labored as she became naked from the waist down; licking his lips at the beautiful sight. The kitchen's bright lights didn't hide anything about her gorgeous brown skin, already glistening with his saliva, with her pink clit slightly protruding from her thick lips. He dove in with his eyes closed, allowing his mouth to lead the way. His dick was threatening to tear a hole through his jeans as he tasted her flesh. Her juices slowly coating his tongue as he licked through her folds, taking his time to explore every inch of her. The scent of her arousal filled his nose as it brushed against her clit, his face buried between her thighs. She smelled sweet, like the tropical fruits they'd consumed all week. His tongue rolled up and down every crevice, his juicy lips sucking on hers as he moaned with delight. He was in heaven between those thighs.
"Rick," Michonne whimpered, her entire body writhing as he ate the hell out of her. She could feel the cum streaming down her pussy, and Rick's tongue managing to catch it. Long, torturously slow licks, seemingly coming from every direction. Her hips had lifted from the counter and she could feel her nipples turned rigid beneath the fabric of her bra, her toes curled tightly, her fingers submerged in Rick's hair, combing from the root as she tried to withstand the unbearable pleasure. The feel of his beard against her skin was an unexpected bonus, the warm fuzziness such a splendid contradiction to his wet tongue sliding up and down her walls, making her squirm. His soft hums and moans rippled against her body, better than any vibrator as it paired with his lips; his fingers gently stroking her while he lapped at her clit. She was barely holding it together. "God," she whispered to herself. "Fuck."
Rick continued to tongue her down, eating her like a birthday cake, so to speak. From the insides of her thighs, licking along her tiny stretch marks with glee, to deep inside her pussy, his face buried, his beard wet with cum. He felt himself throbbing, knocking on the zipper of his jeans as Michonne's legs began to shake. Her moans became louder, her breathing more chaotic as his name repeatedly rolled off of her tongue, only making him harder in response. "M'chonne," he mumbled, tasting her orgasm; his pink lips glazed with her icing. And he wasn't shy, not in the slightest, about licking up every drop of it. Lifting her body from the counter surface, he slipped his tongue between her cheeks, ensuring every inch of her had been serviced.
"Rick," she panted, unsure what he was even doing at that point. Her legs were bearing down on him as another orgasm claimed her body within seconds of the first. The most delicious wave of ecstasy that had her eyes rolling to the top of her head until she was looking at the refrigerator behind them. But lost in reverie all the same. She couldn't believe she'd waited so long for this. For him. She couldn't wait to experience the rest of him.
Breathless, Rick came up for air, licking his lips as he watched Michonne's gorgeous stomach expand and contract with her heavy breaths. He tugged at her t-shirt to get her attention. "You wanna go upstairs?" he whispered huskily. Hopefully.
Sitting up on her elbows, Michonne giggled at the thought that Rick Grimes just ate her pussy in the middle of his kitchen. "Gimme a minute," she nodded, still in recovery mode. "I don't think I can walk just yet."
He nodded, but to him, a minute sounded like an eternity. After getting a taste, he was uninterested in wasting another second of their time together. "Come here," he requested in a murmur, craving another kiss. And she obliged, her lips drunkenly smashing against his, and not because of the wine she'd nursed while waiting for him to come home. They were intoxicated on each other. His tongue was like a drug to her. In her haze, she gripped his head with both her hands, using his ears as handles to pull him closer. She wanted him so bad, it was unbearable.
And Rick felt quite the same, unable to wait, and so he swiftly pulled her from the counter and into his arms – much to her surprise as she squealed with delight as they kissed. With her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands on her naked ass, he headed for the stairs, blindly sidestepping her jeans and underwear on the way.
Michonne wasn't sure how far she'd make it with that hard dick of his pressed against her, his bulge massaging her with every step. And of course she was still reeling from the literal tongue lashing he'd given her. Their kisses turned sloppy, passionately so, as he trudged up the stairs. She could taste her pussy on his tongue, on his beard, even his neck as her full lips devoured him. She didn't even know where she was – or care – when she felt her back touch the surface of some wall, cold against her skin, while Rick's warm body pressed into her as they made out. She managed to remove his shirt amidst their kisses, revealing his full bare torso to her. No matter how many times she saw them, his arms always gave her pause. They were so perfectly sculpted, from his shoulder blades to his wrists, her fingers memorizing every curve of them as she held onto him for support. They roamed across his broad back, feeling his muscles tauten as he kissed her, his soft lips tickling her neck. "Rick," she moaned, her head practically spinning. The entire lower half of her body was pulsing, aching to feel him inside her. "I need you naked," she whispered.
"Fuck," he mumbled, feeling like he was going to erupt at just the sound of her velvety voice against his ear. He could hear that need and he was happy to fulfill it, still sucking on her elegant neck as he carried her the short distance from the hallway into his bedroom. His full suitcases still sat near the dresser, his king-sized bed neatly made, as if he were still on vacation. It felt like walking into some fantasy, this moment being realized. Michonne Diarra, half naked, her body wrapped around his. Thoughts of this had toyed with him since college, and finally, they were turning to reality.
And it all seemed to be happening in slow motion, thank god, because Rick wanted to savor every second of this. He lowered her to his bed, his lips claiming her mouth while his fingers slipped between her thighs, massaging her delicious folds to ensure she was still nice and wet for him. The feel of her slick, hot flesh had him hungry for her pussy, even though he'd just eaten. He was insatiable, it seemed.
Michonne reached past him, fumbling for the button of his jeans, aching to touch his dick again. She'd been thinking about it since their night out, how perfectly long and thick it was, imagining it fitting inside her the way it did inside her mouth. She was salivating thinking about it. Her hands instinctively guided her through unfastening his pants, all while he continued to fuck her with his fingers. "Take 'em off," she purred at his touch.
Rick stood from the bed to step out of his boots and pants, his boxer-briefs going with them, allowing his hardened cock free. It hung from his groin like another limb, and seemed to have a mind of its own too, visibly flinching as he climbed back onto the bed, his hands running up her leg as he positioned between her thighs. A small, nervous exhale escaped his swollen lips as his gaze landed on her shirt, the realization hitting him that she was going to be fully naked in a matter of seconds. He was slow to make his move, his fingers playing with the hem of her white tee, relishing in the heady moment.
He was thankful when she took the reins, pulling the shirt over her head and threw it to the nearest corner. But both of them paused when it came time to remove her bra, as she could sense his apprehension. The look on her face told him she was a bit gun shy, too, which eased his nerves – slightly, at least – but he remained frozen, his fingers simply caressing her stomach.
"It's okay," Michonne spoke warmly, her smile the same in an attempt to comfort him. She lifted her body from the bed to unhook the bra herself, understanding why that small task would stop Rick in his tracks. He hadn't been with another woman in years. And for the last two weeks, she'd noticed that whenever they got close, he tended to avert his gaze from her breasts – likely thinking of Lori and what she went through because of them. If they were going to be together, they would have to accept that little things would come up that evoked her memory. And that that was okay.
Rick watched with bated breath as her bra slackened, allowing her breasts free, and he gently pulled the straps down her arms to slowly reveal the covered skin; her dark brown areolas coming into view, transporting him back to her couch in 1997. They were fuller now – heavier – undoubtedly, from having Andre, yet still so supple, compelling him to lick his lips at the sight; watching as her nipples stiffened with her arousal. He touched one of the juicy mounds, biting at his bottom lip as his thumb massaged the pebbled bud, her tits so soft, they managed to make him even harder. With his focus back in place, he was quick to take the other into his mouth, his wet tongue licking at her flesh, his lips sucking at the nipple, making her moan.
"Mmm," she quietly purred, her fingers finding his hair as he devoured her tits. Voracious in his consumption, switching between the two, leaving one wet as he focused on the other. Squeezing and fondling her rigid nipples between both his teeth and his fingers, while his firm length rubbed against her thigh, all of it driving her crazy. She reached between them to finger herself, but Rick immediately stopped her, not missing a beat as he pinned her arm over her head. Which only made Michonne hotter, wetter as she felt the juices trickling down her pussy. She opened her legs wider, desperate by then, for his dick. "Rick," she breathed. "Come on."
He couldn't help but grin as he released her breast from his mouth, enjoying the sound of her longing just a little too much. He wanted to hear her beg for it. He sat up on his knees, gazing lustfully at her in all her naked glory as he touched his cock, stroking the glistening length. "You sure?" he smirked, licking his lips as his eyes flitted to her pussy.
"Don't," she started to whimper, shaking her head against the pillows when she saw the gleam in his eyes. They'd played this game before – usually with food – and she knew exactly where it was going.
"Don't what?" he asked innocently, a devilish smile on his face. It wasn't even a second before he took the head of his cock and rubbed it against her slit, making her hips involuntarily raise from the bed. It made him smile, seeing her innate reaction to him. He pushed it between her lips so that it touched her clit, eliciting a sound from her mouth that he wanted to hear again. And so, he did it once more, teasing her with the head of his dick, getting it wet with just the slightest taste of her pussy before pulling back. Seeing her juices dripping down her dark brown skin, he was hard as a rock. But the truth was, he needed to take it slow if he had any chance of lasting more than a minute. It'd been so long and he wanted this so badly, he wasn't responsible for what happened once he was inside her.
"Rick," she whined, her entire body squirming from his taunting. He was so close, his skin so deliciously hot against hers, she was literally throbbing for him. "Please."
That was all he needed to hear. It was all he could bear, actually, her quiet voice pleading for him. He slid his dick into her fully, the two of them letting out their moans of delight in unison, the sensation heavenly. Rick's mouth hung open as he acclimated himself with Michonne's wet walls clenching around him. He took hold of her hips, his eyes locked with hers, and began to gently thrust. A deep breath accompanied every roll of his hips, doing his best not to spontaneously combust. But she felt so fucking good.
Michonne squeezed her eyes shut, the pleasure nearly unbearable as he just barely began to pick up his pace. He filled her completely, and his stroke came like waves, rhythmic and fluid. Erotic and slow. He fucked exactly the way she expected him to – like he knew what he was doing. He was confident, and it drove her insane. It made her happy. It made her moan, and she did, loudly and unabashedly as his long strokes grazed her clit. As the minutes passed, she had to reach for the headboard, needing something to hold onto as this rapturous feeling overtook her body, but before she knew it, Rick was on top of her, holding her arms over her head once more. And so, he held onto him, as he somehow made his way deeper inside her, his scrotum knocking on her pussy with every deliciously deep thrust.
"Fuck," he breathed near her ear as he continued to work, though his arms were just barely holding up. The feel of her tits bouncing against his chest only added to the pleasure of being balls deep inside her glorious wetness. He began to kiss her neck, the sound of his lips on her skin matching that of him sliding in and out of her. He loved the way her body responded to him, her legs locking around him, her hips rolling up to meet his, writhing in time with him. "Michonne," he gently groaned, his head burying in her neck as he tried to stave off his climax. He'd waited so long for this, he wanted it to last longer. Forever.
"Rick," she breathed back, her toes curling as his body rocked both her and the bed, the headboard hammering against the wall. Somehow, the vast room seemed so small, so hot as they were wrapped up in only each other; they'd become sweaty, their bodies slick with each other's fluids as their hearts thumped together, their orgasms looming. Both of them holding out for as long as they could. As good as Rick felt inside her – fucking fantastic, in fact – the moment transcended the physical pleasure of it all. After so many years, filled with so many longing stares and loaded conversations and unfulfilled fantasies, finally coming together, mind, body, soul, was absolutely sublime. They may not have been in Anguilla, but they were surely in paradise.
Without even trying, Michonne managed to slip her hand from his grasp, finding its way into his dampened curls as he continued grinding into her. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't hold on any longer, the entirety of her body relaxing as she allowed her orgasm to consume her. Starting with a tingling in her toes before her thighs began to shake and that divine explosion erupted in her core, making her whimper with ecstasy. "Rick," she repeated, feeling herself gushing while he kept going. "I love you," she exhaled.
She barely got the words out before Rick's lips were covering hers, followed by what was easily the most satisfying release of his life. He came with a heavy grunt and allowed himself to spill into Michonne with reckless abandon, the entire lower half of his body going numb with his climax. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as his fingers found hers, interlocking as he squeezed her hand in excitement and satisfaction and the delightful haze of being absolutely in love with the woman underneath him. "God… damn," he exhaled, carefully pulling out of her before falling onto his back beside her. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and feelings, staring at the ceiling, shaking his head at what had just transpired. Without looking, he managed to find Michonne's hand once more, because he was drawn to her like a magnet. And he held onto her. He would hold onto her for the rest of his life. "I love you, too," he spoke quietly, unsure that his heartbeat hadn't drowned out the sound of his words. And before he knew it, a tear was slipping down the side of his face, falling into his ear.
"Are you awake?"
Rick's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Michonne's tender voice and he shook his head before groggily answering, "I am." He really hadn't fallen asleep, but rather, he was reveling in the comfort of the two of them splayed across the bed, his head nestled in her chest, his cheek resting against her soft breast like it was a pillow. Her heart gently thumped against the back of his head. He would've fallen asleep if it weren't for the fact that he simply didn't want this night to end. "Just resting my eyes."
She smirked at his answer, nodding against her actual pillow. They'd been lying there for at least an hour now, half of that time in pleasant silence, and she found it funny that neither of them had drifted off yet. "Me, too."
"Are you thinkin' about anything?"
"I'm thinkin' about a lot of things," she confessed, smiling at herself as she attempted to emulate his twang. "I was just imagining us getting to do this on the beach someday soon."
He chuckled at her imitation, his eyes flitting upward as he felt her hand in his hair. "You ever had sex on a beach?"
"I have…"
"And you liked it?" he prodded. "Seems like it would be a mess once you get sand involved."
Michonne giggled in reply, but as far as she concerned, sex was always messy. As evidenced by the wet spot in the sheets located a few inches to their right. "You just need a big blanket and me on top," she assured him.
"Well I'm sure as hell not gonna turn that down," he returned, grinning impishly as he licked at his bottom lip. He absentmindedly began to rub down his dick with his palm, a futile attempt to keep it from going erect as he began to feel that familiar tingle. But the image of her riding him, the moonlight bathing her skin, waves crashing in the background – it wasn't one that would go away anytime soon. "I should be able to come down there after work Friday," he'd decided.
"Really?" She immediately lit up at the thought of getting to see him again in just a few days. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," he chuckled. "I plan to be in your face and in between these thighs every weekend I can."
"Oh god." Feeling her face grow warm, she covered it with her free hand as if it would somehow stop her from blushing. How did he still manage to make her feel like a girl with some silly crush after all these years?
"Unless you don't want me to…"
"Of course I do," she submitted. She knew he was referring to what she'd said about the possibility of this not working. Her questioning them. And even if he got to say his piece, the reality of the matter was that they hadn't really talked about any of that yet. "I didn't get to say it earlier," she started, her tone turning serious, "but I'm sorry, Rick."
"Michonne, I'm not—"
"No, I really need you to understand this," she interrupted him, her fingers still affectionately combing through his hair as she spoke. "Because I don't want you to go into this thinking I'm not in it with you. I shouldn't have said what I said. Not the way I said it, and certainly not at that moment. But I heard something in you that I really didn't like, and it scared me."
"So... you shut down instead of talking to me about it?"
"I did," she nodded. "And I have to do better." She let out a deep sigh as she realized she was about to confess something that wasn't going to paint her in the best light. "When things get uncomfortable, I do cut and run. I went to NYU to get away from you and Lori. I went to Anguilla to get away from Mike and Lori. I did it with you on Sunday, when you weren't who I thought you should be. And instead of just calling you out for it, I tried to get away from it. And you deserved more than that."
He nodded in response, appreciating her for seeing that. Because as well as he knew her, that wasn't even something he'd necessarily picked up on. "Are you still scared?"
"I think some part of me always will be," she confirmed. "I wrestle with it every day, wondering what I did to ruin my marriage. Because I can't just blame it on Mike anymore. And I think some part of me knew I never could. So I just keep hoping I don't do the same thing with you."
Rick let out a small sigh as his eyes scanned the ceiling, trying to think of a diplomatic response. Because he understood what she meant, but he couldn't wrap his head around her not having more faith in them. He wasn't Mike. This was different. "I guess... I just don't understand why you fantasize about failing."
"And I don't understand how you're so relentlessly optimistic."
"I dunno if I'd call it that," he quietly chuckled to himself, hearing the smile in her voice; his hand absently running along her thigh as they spoke. "You know how I was after Lori. I kept it together for the kids, but for that whole time, I just felt... dead inside. I wasn't happy, I wasn't necessarily sad. I was trapped under the weight of her death. And what I realized in Anguilla was it was you that made me feel free. You made me feel like I was living again. And I guess nothin' else beyond that really matters to me."
"Yeah, I kinda got that after you told me I should've left Andrea hanging," she teased him, grinning.
"She wasn't hanging," he sighed again, mostly in jest, knowing she was exaggerating simply to annoy him. "I mean, I understand now how that must've sounded to you. Like I was holding it against you for leaving."
"Yeah..."
"But you asked me why I wasn't in a good mood. And honestly, I think I'd run out of patience at that point, because I just wanted to be with you," he granted, nodding. "I knew it was a fucked up thing to say, but... I thought I could be that with you."
"You can," she promised in a whisper, her hand resting in his curls momentarily. "I'm with you, Rick. I always have been… even when I wasn't supposed to be," she scoffed to herself. "And I'm sorry that I ever made you feel like I wasn't. But I'm here. I'm in this."
He tilted his head up at her, stealing a glimpse of her face as he asked, "You jump, I jump?"
"Wow," she giggled at his silliness, allowing her smile to claim her face. But then, it was a pretty apt declaration. Meant to say that they were in this together. And given their history, there was probably no better way to say it. "You jump, I jump," she repeated in agreement.
"You know, we never did finish watching that movie," he realized, his entire body relaxing again as she resumed running her fingers through his hair.
"Yeah, because you fell asleep."
"I thought it was because Mike showed up."
"I mean, that too," she conceded, laughing at him again. "But you fell asleep first."
"I did."
"And you stood me up."
"I get the feeling you're gonna bring that up for the rest of our lives," he said, shaking his head. "If you want, we can watch it right now."
When she felt him begin to shift, presumably to find the TV remote, she was quick to stop him. "Don't move," she asked, her hand holding onto his shoulder. She smiled when his curls tickled her chest as he laid back down. "I just wanna be like this for a little while longer."
Rick nodded, appreciating her request. He closed his eyes as he listened to her breaths; feeling them underneath him. It was almost strange for him that none of this felt strange. Lying there naked, immersed in post-coitus conversation – it all felt so natural. Like just another day in their lives. "Does any of this feel weird to you?" he went on to ask. He knew it was a dangerous question when he was hoping for a specific answer.
"No, not really," she returned, not having to think much about it. "I mean, it's always a little weird when you make up after a fight. But everything about you and me, like this... it feels right."
"And it's okay with you that we did this in here?" he wondered. Given how much she'd fixated on their relationship with Lori prior to now, he was almost surprised at how uninhibited she'd been all night.
"In your bedroom?"
"Yeah. In this house..."
Michonne shrugged despite knowing he couldn't see her before answering, "It certainly crossed my mind a couple of times as I sat downstairs waiting for you. I used to hate when you and I were here alone, because my mind would always wander. Without fail, I'd imagine you bringing me up here, and we did some tawdry version of this before Lori could catch us," she confessed, her voice as soft as her touch to his curly tresses. "As far as this place being yours and Lori's... I dunno. I put most of it out of my mind by the time you got my panties off." The two of them laughed at her honesty, but it didn't take long for her to turn semi-serious. "Maybe some things are sacred and we're just terrible people. But I don't wanna be scared of a ghost, Rick."
He smiled at her charming way with words, while his fingers continued to tenderly run along her thighs. What a relief it was to hear her say that. "So... is it still considered adultery even though you and Mike are separated?"
She immediately giggled in response, her laughter causing both of their bodies to gently shake the bed. "In the eyes of the court, definitely yes," she verified. "Which would mainly affect alimony in our case, but… if he decides he wants to fight, he can have the money. We still have yours."
It was Rick's turn to laugh, feeling silly for assuming she was going to say something romantic about them still having each other. But he was admittedly glad to hear that she was already thinking that way; that whatever belonged to him – or her – was theirs. "Sounds like you've thought about this."
"Oh, I've thought about a lot," she assured him, nodding. "It's what I do."
"That is true."
"But what about you," she pressed, curious what'd been on his mind since they were apart. "Have you considered whether you wanna keep the house once you guys move?"
"I've thought about it," he replied, smiling at the fact that she hadn't questioned whether they'd continue with their original plans. "Then I stopped thinkin' about it because I wasn't sure what was gonna happen with us."
"Well. Sometime in the next month, we should sit down with our accountants and really figure out our financials. Because I don't wanna wait a year for you to move to Anguilla. And I think you should keep your house, because I also don't want you to give up your whole life to be with me."
"I'm not givin' it up. I'm just… rearranging some things."
"I know," she granted. She loved him for how easy he was willing to make this on her. But if they were going to do things together, there had to be compromise. "But Anguilla was my thing, not yours," she reminded him. "Yours is here, and you worked hard for it. I don't want you to sell your business and your home if you don't have to."
"I don't wanna be in a long distance relationship, though. In the short term, that's fine, but I don't want you or the kids to have to live like that."
Michonne smiled at his thoughtfulness, appreciating that he didn't want to put her through that again. "Trust me, I don't either," she responded emphatically. "But… what if we spent six months here and six months there? We hire someone we trust to run the B & B while we're gone. We have to shut down during hurricane season, anyway, so... that's already three months we could be here."
"You'd be willing to live here half the year?" he looked up at her.
"I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this work for both of us," she said. "I mean, I don't know if that's the answer, but... we can find a way."
Rick grinned at her answer, while also totally unsure of how to respond. It was such a strange yet welcome feeling to have life give you exactly what you want. "We really should've had sex a long time ago if it was gonna have you acting like this."
"You're such an asshole," she sighed; and yet, she was unable to contain her smile.
"But do you disagree?"
Michonne could only laugh, causing him to do the same, the two of them filling the room with the sound of lightness. But she purposely chose to ignore his question in favor of her own. "You wanna hear something funny?"
"I sure do."
"So a few years ago, Lori and I made this pact with each other," she started to explain, trying to recall, as she spoke, when and why they'd done it in the first place. "I'm pretty sure she read a Times article about women's sexual prime being after they turn 36. I dunno. But your wife, the overbearing soul that she was, decided that we weren't having enough sex." The thought made her chuckle now, because this was probably not what Lori had in mind. "So we came up with the bright idea that we needed to have thirty orgasms in thirty days."
He threw his head back with another laugh, getting an eyeful of her nipple as his face landed in the valley between her breasts. "Thirty for thirty, huh?" he smirked. Though he was fairly certain he and Lori failed in that mission. He wondered if there was a time in their marriage where they even made it halfway.
"This probably goes without saying, but I've yet to get there," Michonne chuckled. Then sighed, as she knew their little agreement came at an especially rough time in her marriage. Some months went by where she had none. "I don't think I got past eight."
"Shit."
"Right."
"I take it self-pleasure didn't count?" he guessed.
She scoffed, confirming his theory. "If it did, I wouldn't have had a problem."
"Well," he grinned, just imagining her pleasuring herself – a sight he was looking forward to witnessing for himself. "We've got time." He figured she was revealing this little tidbit to him in the interest of giving it a try.
"Mmm." She smiled to herself, her fingers running down his shoulders as she thought of how Rick had already gotten her to three or four in just one night. And that number went up to five, if she counted the cab ride two nights ago. Their first time together and he'd already surpassed anything she'd ever experienced.
"How many've you had tonight?" he questioned, seeming to read her mind in that moment. His hand was already traveling up her thigh and headed toward the apex between them as he waited for her answer.
Michonne giggled, opening her legs for him as she resumed stroking his hair. "I was just thinking, it was either three or four? I lost count."
He grinned again as he sat up from her and the bed, already thinking about how he was going to get her to the next one. "I'm that good, huh?"
Michonne smirked at him, her gaze fixated on his semi-hard dick as he began to stroke it, positioning on his knees for what she could only assume was another round. "You are that good," she eventually replied, knowing she was only encouraging him. But she wanted more of him, and the feeling only intensified as she watched his erection grow in his hand. "I have a feeling we won't have a problem reaching that goal…"
"Probably not," Rick granted. He took her spread legs as an invitation and grabbed her by the thigh, flipping her onto her stomach as she squealed with surprise. But she was quick to catch on, getting into position on her hands and knees while he tried not to cum at just the sight of her perfectly luscious ass in the air. The pre-cum was already dribbling from the tip of his cock, and he used it as lubricant, rubbing himself against her opening while she closed her eyes at the sensation. "So how 'bout we say you've had three tonight and we go for five?"