I don't own the walking dead.
Chapter XV: A marriage in which the wife speaks Greek while the husband speaks, Latin hardly last.
Rick abruptly wakes up. For a second, he feels disoriented. Rick's head is pounding while his body feels relaxed. The feeling is familiar. Rick is weary of familiarity and prefers a firm sense of knowing.
Looking around him, he has a sense of what happened last night. Michonne's head rests on his shoulder. Rick receives confirmation of his suspicion. Despite knowing how consensual the act was, Rick's mind falters. It rarely happens that he relieves the aftermath of his rape. Yet, he happens when Rick expects it the least.
Something about last night freed his demons. The stress of the previous days has weakened Rick's mind. Lowering his wall to allow Michonne in has left him vulnerable to the worst side of him. Rick stares at an empty spot in the room and picks the scent of the past. His memory is faltering. Michonne's perfume remains embedded in his skin. She smells as she did ten years ago. Yet, Michonne's scent is not the reason for the hyperactivity of Rick's mind.
Michonne's hair on his chest feels like undeserved comfort. Rick's body tenses out of recognizing the stimuli. His thoughts falter while his mind jumps between now and ten years ago. There is a problem of dissociation of events. Michonne's body does not resemble her body.
"Take a deep breath," Rick whispers. "Don't panic, Rick." He continues as he stares at Michonne.
Rick attempts to feel his lungs. Yet, he immediately feels sick. Michonne draws closer to him. She tightens the hold on him. Michonne suffocates him.
Rick instantly grows uncomfortable. He can feel the bitter taste on his tongue. The pungent smell of alcohol on him makes him sick. Rick's reality is splitting to imprison his delusion.
I don't love Carlton. I love you, Rick.
"Calm down," Rick says. "it's in your head." He refrains from yelling.
Michonne still lies peacefully on his side. She has not faded to make room for the past. Yet, the room resembles the guest room where it happened. The light is absent as it would have been ten years ago.
"It's in your head." Rick's voice quivers.
Discerning a visual hallucination of reality does not stop Rick's fright. His hand desperately closes on Michonne. He holds her as if she can prevent him from slipping into terror. Yet, she fails. The walls close around Rick. He can hear the cracking sound of the door opening.
Michonne
Rick refrains from calling her name. Michonne never came that night. She did not step into the room.
Oh, you're going to get over that little bitch.
Sweat rolls from Rick's forehead. He trembles when the surge of memory swallows him. Why does such a trivial detail resurface? The door cracks open.
Rick looks before him. He cannot bear to come across Michonne's disappointment. There is nothing before him but a closed door.
Michonne groans, and he tenses. Rick stares at Michonne. He almost holds his breath. Fortunately, Michonne does not wake up. Rick attempts again to inhale. A failure rewards his earnest attempts.
The rhythm of his heart rises. Rick's body stiffens. Rick looks at his shaking hands; he can feel the aftertaste of alcohol. Yet, he has not had a drink in ten years. Rick looks around him. The little light in the room bounces on Michonne's body; there is the smell of sex on every inch of his skin. Revulsion arises. The same fear of ten years ago arises. Knowing with certainty that Michonne lies by his side does not reassure him. Memories gnaw at his sanity; there is panic while his blood is suddenly cold.
Michonne… Rick groans while waking up with nothing but a memory of kissing Michonne.
"Not now," Rick breathes with growing panic. "Not now…" He pleads with himself. "Stop," He chokes on his fear.
However, his plea serves no purpose. He cannot fight the sense of dread. Despite the clarity of his memory, Rick cannot come to his senses. His stomach churns. Dizziness overtakes his movement.
"Fuck…she is only seventeen." Rick berates himself. "You got your dick wet with a child. Fucking idiot…" Rick concludes from the clues. His naked body barely can move. In his mind, Michonne's glistening eyes are embedded. "I… Mimi. I'm sorry."
Rick strives to be gentle as he extracts himself from Michonne's embrace. His shaky hands carefully pry her limbs away from his body. He feels like vomiting as he remembers being unaware of the events of Christmas Eve.
Despite his rushed movements, Michonne continues to sleep. A glance at the content smile on her lips tells the story of comfort.
"Just a breath," Rick encourages himself. "Breathe." His fury with his fragile mind does not transpire in his anxious whisper.
Rick stands for a few seconds next to the bed. Michonne continues to sleep. Although, there is a frown on her face now. His trembling legs almost throw him to the floor.
Michonne seems to sense his absence next to her. Rick considers laying down next to her. He feels his body tense as that thought arises.
"Michonne," Rick calls with slight panic. Michonne never answers. Rick becomes aware of being alone in the room. "If I hurt her…of course I did. I was fucking drunk out of my mind. How could I do that? Mimi, not Mimi…a fucking child."
When tears begin rolling down his cheek, Rick knows he has lost to terror. He reaches for Michonne's hair. Rick entangles his finger in her hair. Delicately, he attempts to keep her content. Each second he spends at her side is painful. Yet, Rick does not immediately give in to his impulses to avoid suffering.
The room changes as Rick loses more of his perception of reality. Michonne subconsciously returns Rick's caress. He almost slips out of the invading hallucination. Yet, he never escapes it.
"I can't remember," Rick pleads with his father. Yet, he begins to panic. As Carlton implodes with rage, Rick's brain is obsessed with clarity. He picks broken memories. Some beats are unrecoverable.
The truth dawns on him.
Get off me, Jessie. Rick's mind suffers its first split. It struggles to prevent all memories from resurfacing.
"I can't remember," Rick answers. "I…Jessie."
Michonne follows Rick's movement. She leans on his caress.
Rick endures his limitations. He looks at the bed where he cannot lay. Rick looks at Michonne's body; his disgust with the smell in the room surpasses his need to hold his wife. All comfort from Michonne's arm will not subdue his physical pain.
"Don't go," Michonne mumbles while Rick is confident she is deep in slumber.
Yet, Rick cannot grant her request. He has not shared a bed with a woman since the incident. The smell of sex when his mind clears of lust never fails to bring memories to the surface. Although, it has never been so virulent. Rick slips out of the room. He rushes the furthest away from Michonne. He fears she might surprise him in that pitiful state where he resembles a frightened child.
Although, Rick knows the act is illogical. He hides as if there was someone after him. Perhaps, he continues to feel as if Jessie pursues him to break him further.
Rick is too tall to hide in the closet. Hiding under the table feels too ridiculous. He is in search of emotional safety. His finger endlessly rests on his wedding band. Rick mindlessly moves through his apartment until he settles for Michonne's bed.
He sinks deeper into her bedsheets. Nose filled with Michonne scent, Rick no longer holds tears. He closes his eyes and allows the past to devour what remains of his sanity.
Ten years ago:
Rick can barely stand. His legs feel like cotton. Under his weight, they give up. He looks around the spinning room. Rick cannot make a thread of the event that led him to lay down on the floor. Missing a chunk of his memory spikes his anxiety.
"What the fuck," He growls while his throat burns. Rick's words resonate unclearly.
Despite his clearer thoughts, his body still weighs too much. He barely manages to move his muscles. Rick lies next to his clothes. He searches them for clues and finds nothing besides a woman's underwear.
Rick's mind flashes to the blurry image of a feminine body on top of him. The newly active part of his brain multiplies flashes of Michonne. He still has her taste on his tongue from the kiss. Rick panics.
"How did I even manage to fuck…It's Mimi." Rick stops. He cannot think of anything out of place with Michonne. "I screwed up so badly." He furiously states. "I made love to Michonne."
Rick lies on the floor, exhausted; he looks at his clothes on the floor. He undoubtedly removed his clothes. The smell of the room makes it obvious what went down inside it. However, Rick has no recollection of the event. His spotty memory blurs after a wine glass and fixates on Michonne.
"I'm a piece of shit," Rick declares. "Mimi?" He sighs as he crawls back to his feet.
He immediately loses his balance. Rick ponders on the alcohol he consumed the entire night. Difficult, Rick leans on the wall. His muscles have gone numb. He strives to take a few steps.
Rick moves to the bathroom. He rushes to clean himself. Exasperated, Rick only wants to see Michonne offer at least an apology. Rick can sense something dreadful has happened. He feels an emptiness.
"I made love to Michonne," Rick declares in disbelief. "So much for protecting her. I let my guard down once, and I went after her." He berates himself. "I made love to Mimi." He hardly believes his stupidity. "And I can't remember it. A child…a child… doesn't matter that I wanted it. She is a child."
Rick steps out of the bathroom. He grabs his clothes and continues to feel sick. Yet, Rick forces himself to find Michonne. He cannot allow himself to disregard what he did.
Rick tirelessly looks for Michonne. He prays he did not do anything that could hurt her further. Despite being convinced he would not harm her intentionally, Rick cannot help but worry.
From his blurry memory, he remembers their passionate kiss. Yet, he is sure that Michonne might have cried. For a second, he questions the possibility that the sex was not consensual. His stomach churns at the thought. He cannot fathom being anything but gentle to Michonne. Yet, he is anxious. Consent will not change and alleviate the value of his mistake. Rick clings to the thought that Michonne is minor.
Lost in his worry, he does not bother Maggie as she approaches him. Rick is on the verge of ignoring his cousin when she grabs his arm to stop him.
"You're in trouble," Maggie says as a greeting.
She wears a small smile, which quickly disappears. Rick freezes. He knows that he made a mistake. Yet, Rick worries that he did more than make love to Michonne. The lack of memory makes him dread what he might learn. There is a sense of gloom. Rick cannot say what haunts him. However, he feels frightened.
"Fuck…" Rick helplessly declares. "Grandpa Morgan is…" He cannot even form a thought. "Grandpa Richard is going to kill me. I fucking deserve it." He laments. "Have you seen, Mimi?"
Maggie frowns when Rick uses Michonne's pet name.
"Last night," Rick sighs. "I'm worried about her. I have been looking forever. She isn't home. I thought I would find her in my room like every Christmas." He starts a tirade. "I need to talk to Mimi."
"She is Mimi again," Maggie quietly says. "I haven't seen her since the party. But for the little I know, she is the reason why you're in trouble."
Rick does not appear surprised. However, he pales. His view blurs suddenly. Rick continues to feel extremely sick.
"Grandpa Richard or Grandpa Morgan?" Rick questions as he prepares to face whatever comes from his actions last night.
"Uncle Carlton," Maggie retorts.
Not seeing Michonne in his father's office unsettles Rick. Yet, he enters the room expecting to hear his father's lecture. Jessie's presence draws an unexpected reaction from him. Rick tenses; he cannot convince himself to enter the room; Rick feels sicker. The response to her presence is visceral. Rick immediately considers leaving the room.
"Dad?" Rick says with hesitation.
"I always cursed myself for having you as a son," Carlton retorts. "Only such a piece of shit could come out of your mother's womb."
Rick stops. He eyes Carlton with fury. Yet, he is not surprised by his father's words. Between Carlton and Rick's mother, there was no lost love. Carlton proved his hatred for his dead wife through his many extramarital affairs.
"I…" Rick loses his thoughts.
Jessie's look makes him self-conscious. He turns to her as he now assumes the reason why his father is angry. He struggles to hide his irrational fear. Abruptly, he can feel his head threatening to implode. She triggers the need for him to remember. Yet, Rick only has in mind Michonne. Although a blurry scene, Rick struggles to fit Michonne's face on the naked body riding him. Rick shakes himself out of his complex thoughts.
"I hope this isn't about your union." Rick sighs. "You've all my blessings." He begins to leave the room. "I'm fine with whatever it is. I need to go." Rick rushes to leave. He senses a threat. Rick is hyper-alert. He acts based on instinct. Rick's body is begging to escape the hazardous encounter.
Jessie finally steps out of Carlton's shadow. She looks at him as if she expects support from him. Rick wonders if he may have signed an unidentified alliance with her. When she persistently looks at him. Rick feels himself slipping into aggressiveness. His anger rises with virulence. Never had he known such fury before today. Rick cannot explain it. Jessie's relationship with Carlton never provoked his anger. Rick feels as if he is slipping away from consciousness.
"There is no need to lie," She says between sudden tears. "Your father knows about us. He knows everything that has been going on since I came here."
Rick cocks an eyebrow. He hardly cares if Carlton knows of his past with Jessie. She is indeed nothing of relevance in his life now. There is nothing since he has avoided her despite her continuous harassment.
"Does he intend to talk with all of your exes?" Rick responds with exasperation. "I don't care how it goes either way." He insists. "I need to get out of here. I need to get away from you."
Rick cannot explain why he feels odd in Jessie's presence. Listening to her brings forth a headache. His head might even split from the pain. Some instinct screams for Rick to collect his thoughts. Above everything, Rick feels like running away from her. He is on high alert. Rick is afraid; a thing is out of place.
"There is no need to lie," Jessie chokes on a sob. "She told him about last night." She wipes her tears.
"Michonne?" Rick pauses. "Obviously, I…" He does not finish his statement. "I can't remember much about last night. She didn't know what she was doing. I'm the adult in this situation."
"The little bitch…" Jessie breaks into a fit of rage. "Your father knows about us. He knows about last night."
Rick stares at Jessie. His body reacts on a level that his brain fails to register. He feels breathless; Rick becomes helpless. He moves to wipe his tears.
"I…" Rick's words can escape his thoughts. "Last night."
Jessie steps closer to Carlton. She grasps his face.
Rick catches a glimpse of her perfume. His skin itches. Again, he wipes tears that have yet to fall.
"I was drunk," she pleads. "I should have been careful with Rick." She pursues. "I didn't think he still had those thoughts about me." She sobs. "He could not let go of us, a special bond."
Jessie's word seals Rick's fate. The headache consumes his mind; Rick grows drowsy; he suffocates. Rick bends for a breath. He can no longer bear it.
"I know you want to be stubborn about it, but we have something special, Rick." Her hands frame his face." I know you love me. I know you're mine." Jessie adds with certitude.
Rick loses control of his mind. A small crack opens. He curiously peeps through the memory. Instantly, regrets invade him. Carlton and Jessie's voices become distant. Through the fissure, last night's horror pours. He quietly crashes into anguish.
Jessie leans to kiss him. He cannot bear it. His vision blurs, and through the curtain of tears, he clings to Michonne's eyes. Rick's suffering is endless. His muscles do not respond. When his hands move, Jessie guides them as she rejoices in his caress.
"You're all mine."
Rick hears before she steals his mouth. There is a dying sensation in his body; it is the imprisoning aspect of his physical condition. He has his consciousness trapped in a paralysed body.
The helplessness is traumatic.
Jessie's glee and joy echo in the room; she takes everything away from him. He loses every inch of his body to her. There is so much fight in his soul. Yet, his body is no longer his own to control.
Jessie rips through his muscles; she leaves her marks on his skin. Rick swears he will not cry. That is the only strength that Rick has. He swore to keep from breaking. Yet, he loses that fight. Between the terror, Rick cries. Yet, his throat is not strong enough to carry a sound. He is forcefully mute. When he looks away from her, Jessie does not allow it. She forces him to watch as she breaks his soul piece by piece. Rick finds a sense of victory when he manages to drag his face away. He looks at Michonne. It is his act of defiance. The only fight he can put up.
Michonne's brown eyes quickly turn pitch black. She is furious. He has never seen her angry with him. Rick has never done anything that warranted such a reaction before tonight. He abandons. Jessie drags back his face.
Rick must watch her.
Jessie's hands are all over his skin.
He tries for her to move and fails each time. Rick feels trapped in his body.
Michonne holds onto the door. Therefore, he builds his escape from Jessie's claw through an exchange to look with Michonne. He seeks peace and comfort for Michonne and him in the brown of Michonne's eyes. He replaces his horror with the more bearable idea of making love to Michonne.
"He took advantage of my state," Jessie says. "I felt guilty."
Rick stares at Jessie. He hears her lies, and yet, he cannot defend himself. He begins to reject his memory. He carelessly attempts to leave the room. However, he does not make it far. He cannot move. He feels trapped once again.
Rick slowly becomes aware of what happened on Christmas Eve.
"I can't remember," He offers as a weak defence. He insists that he cannot remember. Yet, he has enough pieces of the puzzle to form the correct picture.
Jessie raped him.
Present:
Rick halts at the entrance of the room; his night was rough. He stares at Michonne. He wants nothing else but to lay next to her.
Michonne has moved to the middle of his bed; her hair beautifully frames her face. He notices that she now wears his shirt.
The sleeves of the last shirt he wore loosely hang on her shoulder. She hugs his pillow. Rick's heart sinks; he feels more guilt. Beyond guilt, there is an irrational shame.
Rick watches Michonne as his irritation with himself grows. He is a poor excuse for a husband. The ethereal sight of Michonne taunts him. She woke up in another empty bed. Rick cannot control his mind. He has control over nothing.
Rick searches for his leather bracelet to reign in his anger. His free wrist is a reminder that he has not controlled his aggressiveness tonight. Rick looks at his cut fingers. He sighs at the extent of his rage. Without waking Michonne up, he walks to the bathroom. When he finishes cleaning those cuts, Rick returns to the bedroom. Michonne, now awake, stares at him.
"You came back," Michonne says.
"I never left," Rick declares.
Michonne looks at him with a relieved expression. She is the portrayal of everything that Rick craves and needs. He is tired of fighting the impulse. In three strides, he closes the distance between them. Rick falls into her arms.
"Okay," Michonne says with slight surprise. "You missed me, I guess."
Rick hugs Michonne tightly. He feels a form of serenity.
Ironically, the calm she brings wreaks havoc inside him. The ease with which everything falls in place is frightening. The sudden silence in Rick's mind precedes chaos. His fear and anxiety begin to fade. Rick cannot think beyond survival.
He needs to survive Jessie.
"Are you okay, Rick?" Michonne inquires when Rick continues to crush her in a hug.
Michonne's fingers disappear in his hair. She softly kisses his temples. Rick only hugs her with more strength. He crushes her. Yet, Michonne senses the oddness of the situation. She feels the absence of emotion.
Michonne begins to escape Rick's hug. Carefully, she takes his face and looks at Rick. His eyes are soulless. He is hollow and devoid of sincere emotions. Each action is a calculated reaction.
"Rick?" Michonne questions.
Rick kisses her as an answer. He pulls her in a deep kiss to silence further questioning. He refuses to have a conversation where he must reveal more of his broken self. His caresses are small ropes to imprison Michonne.
Michonne pulls away. She senses his urgency. Michonne scrutinises Rick.
"You weren't here when I woke up," Michonne instinctively points out.
"I…" Rick sighs. "I headed out for a minute." He fakes a smile.
Rick prays that Michonne stops questioning him. Michonne's care only destroys his remaining ego. Rick cannot reveal how he slipped into a panic because he cannot decide when he can withstand some form of intimacy. Rick cannot admit before Michonne that he can suffer a post-traumatic stress episode at any given time.
Rick cannot lose her over another of his inability to function. His controlling side has resurfaced for survival. He is manoeuvring his environment with care. Rick is terrified.
" That's.." Michonne's voice draws Rick out of his thoughts.
Rick kisses Michonne. He does it almost forcefully. The act lacks sincerity. It quickly becomes unnatural. Rick only clings to a pretence of normalcy.
Michonne draws away. She stares at Rick, trying to find what he hides. Yet, she does not question him openly. Michonne is afraid to make the wrong move. This night has not transformed their relationship. She knows that Rick has not miraculously turned into a perfect man. Rick has his hidden demons.
"I'm fine," He firmly retorts. "You worry for nothing," He adds. "I'm not a fragile child," Rick pursues. "And if you're going to treat me like one, we aren't going to last long." Rick declares. "I'm a man." He emphasises. "I'm a man, Michonne." He insists. "Not some weak thing that you're going to baby."
Michonne senses Rick's vulnerability turning into defensiveness. She wonders how to react. Michonne reaches for Rick's hand, but he pulls it away. Rick does not want Michonne to notice his broken finger and the cuts. He does not want to explain another fit of rage. Rick does not want to reveal his torment.
"Rick?" Michonne worries.
"I'm fine," Rick repeats. "And you're making something out of nothing." He says to create doubts.
Rick looks Michonne in the eyes. He uses years of earned trust to compel her to agree.
"I want you happy," Rick confesses. "I don't want you to worry every five seconds." He smiles. "But now, I can see you're creating some obscure scenario on why I wasn't there when you woke up." He pursues. "I had to work, and I didn't want to wake you up moving around the room." Rick lies without a flaw in his expression.
Rick has mastered the art of pretending. He has kept the secret of his trauma for years. No one but his therapist knows of his anguish. Women have come and left his life in so many waves just to maintain the illusion of normalcy.
"You weren't home," Michonne answers. "I went looking for you around the apartment."
Rick does not flinch. He remains calm. Now, he has his mind on a leash. He will not break and reveal that he almost broke his wrist while unleashing his rage on one of his many cars. Rick will not tell Michonne that his leather bracelet burnt his wrist in the many attempts to calm himself.
"I forgot how jealous you can be," Rick smiles. "You searched the house but not my office in this very same building." He pursues without hesitation. "You searched the house when you simply needed to call." He adds. "You probably did call," Rick corrects himself. "I'm sorry about that. You couldn't reach me." Rick says while becoming aware of slamming his phone against the floor. "But you're overreacting," he continues when he is sure of holding Michonne's attention. "You're overreacting because now I am a victim in your mind." He points out to escape Michonne's questioning. "And you're going to do that forever."
Michonne stares at Rick. She can sense that he omits details. Yet, she does not dare to challenge him. How would she dare when he is playing into her emotions?
"Rick," Michonne softly says.
Rick presses his lips on Michonne's ones. He slowly plucks them open. He lazily kisses her. Michonne feels a distance that she cannot describe. The absence of interest in the act is noticeable. There is an ulterior motive to the act.
"Rick," Michonne interjects between a moan and a protest.
"If you worry about how I feel," Rick breathes against her skin. "Make me feel better." He unbuttons her shirt. "I feel fine when you let me make you mine."
The thought is possessive more than it is endearing. Rick has thought of her tonight. He has questioned his place in her life. Rick holds onto Michonne with fear. He already dreads the many nights to come when he would feel sick and anxious after giving in to his impulses. In many ways, he wants Michonne. Yet, he cannot have her on his terms.
"I'm fine now," Rick says. He does not want to let her go. "And you want me," Rick stares into Michonne's eyes. "You want me like this."
Michonne questions his hesitation in the last sentence. She hears the doubts. She almost questions what he implies. Yet, she kisses him as an answer. Michonne abandons a fight she cannot win.
"You're perfect," Rick cajoles Michonne. "And I want you. That's bad for me." He deepens the kiss.
Carefully, she presses her fingers along his ribs. Michonne can feel Rick tense under her touch. She pulls her hand away. However, he grabs it and keeps it where the pulse of his heart is stronger.
"I want you," Rick repeats.
He pushes her shirt and discards it without care. Rick delicately pushes his wife down until her head hits the mattress. Michonne's fingers dance along his abdomen. Yet, she stops on a bruise. She stares at the red angry skin around it and frowns.
"I'm fine," Rick silences Michonne.
She looks at him. Rick is not fine. Michonne cannot express what he hides behind his stoicism. How fine can he be if every inch of his body is tense? How can he be in the right mindset for sex when she can notice the hollowness of his mind?
"Mimi," her name is a plea. "I'll be fine." He promises. "I just want you." Michonne can hear his despair. "I only need you to be fine."
Looking at Rick, Michonne knows that more of his sanity is gone. She can say that she has lost Rick to some of his past demons. "You know I love you, right." Michonne whispers. "I love you," she insists. "Tell me that you know that I love you." Michonne grabs Rick's face.
"You did all your life." Rick answers.
"I do today," Michonne corrects him. "I love you today." She insists on the relevance of time.
Michonne wants Rick to understand that she is not enamoured with an ideal version of him. Michonne loves this frightened man attempting to hide his fragility in her arms. Michonne needs Rick to know that she wants him without some sentimentality of the past.
Rick stares at Michonne. He smirks hopelessly. His wife is probably the most beautiful woman that Rick has ever seen. Michonne can be forever his if only he could keep her away from his fears and demons.
"I want you, Michonne." He says to silence her. "We can talk all you want about romance after I give you more reasons to love me."
Rick's hand running along her thigh appears to illustrate his statement. There is a question on her lips, but Rick immediately kisses it away.
Michonne does not expect to offer him any form of comfort. Rick is not after comfort. He got it from her last night. Now, he wants to consume himself. Rick wants to disappear into his demons. She knows he is scared while attempting to grasp some control. He has a random moment of vulnerability, which leaves her astonished and oddly enamoured. For a few minutes, they exist in a bubble. The rhythm of Rick's heartbeat almost lures Michonne into forgetting what his touch means. Her fingers creep between Rick's fingers. It is gauchely intimate. Perhaps, it is too intimate. Rick loses a grip on control.
"I can't make love to you," Rick shows his fears for a few seconds. "I need you, Mimi."
Michonne's fingers explore Rick's bare chest. The exploration is intimate. She kisses some of his bruises. Rick is not willing to share himself with her.
When Michonne attempts to connect and reaches more than he wants to display, Rick snaps. Rick shuts down. He tilts Michonne's chin, and so she looks up to him. He stares into her eyes, and he knows what she wants. Yet, he cannot offer her intimacy. Rick needs the distance to function.
"I can't," Rick affirms.
His weight on her is almost suffocating. In a minute, Rick is ready to take her roughly on the bed.
There is no kiss. There is no caress. He is semi-hard. It is a reaction. Michonne is exhausted. She wants him at peace. The price is harder to pay because she dearly loves him. Marriage with Rick Grimes will cost her sanity.
Does he understand her need for him? She intertwines their fingers. She keeps their hands on the bed. He presses his lips to her mouth with gentleness, and she returns in kind. Michonne kisses Rick until she is too breathless to cry.
He nuzzles his nose to the crook of her neck. She smells more like him than she does herself. Her sweet citrus scent underlines the galangal of his perfume. Michonne brushes away the loose strand blocking Rick's view.
Her fingers cage his face, and Rick has no choice but to look at her. He has consumed as much of her sanity as she could spare.
"If you can't," her eyes cling to his, and it is a quiet challenge. "Then let me love you how you want to be loved. I can make love to you."
Michonne's lips brush Rick's. She steals her breath from his lungs. She renounces intimacy for his sake. She is exhausted. Michonne wants nothing more than to be his.
"No…no..no…" Rick slightly panics. "I can't fucking do love. I told you, Mimi." He pleads. "Get out of this bed." He slowly slips into anger.
Michonne comes with a heart that Rick does not want to handle.
"You want a fuck," Michonne hesitates. "Rick," He dodges her touch when she reaches for his face. "What do you want?"
What Rick wants from her is her beautiful brown eyes desperately clinging to his presence. Her body singing under his touch suffices to console him. Rick is repulsed by sex at the moment. He punishes himself through the act because he has lost his sense of self for a few hours.
"You." Rick retorts. "Just you at my mercy."
Rick runs after a supposedly lost masculinity in the same fashion he lost it. He needs to prove to himself that he is still in control.
Soft, slow, and tender, Michonne does not expect his caress to be. It is proverbially too late to turn tails. How deep can she fall for him? How long can she endure detachment? How can she be loved without the essence of love?
The bitterness on her tongue disappears under the taste of him. Her body melts into his. His teeth scrape her neck as if she needs to wear the proof of her surrender to him.
Michonne eagerly touches his skin when he does not avoid her caress. The goosebumps under her fingertips speak of his fear. Rick is fragile even when he controls the situation. The red trail after the caresses of her nails. Rick's weight no longer suffocates her. Michonne welcomes it. She wants him to crush her if it can salvage his mind. She has long embraced the chaos that Rick is.
Rick kisses Michonne as he reveals her satin skin. Michonne is bare. Her fingers hook around the band of his pyjama. He resists the impulse to pull her hand away. She is slow and tender. Rick gives Michonne a second to change her mind. Her mouth rests on his ear. Between kisses, she whispers words, which she resisted the urge to say too long. Rick kicks his pants away, and Michonne pulls on his boxer brief. He is as bare as she is.
" You're mine," Rick says with a soft smile.
She would not dare to deny his claim at this moment. Her skin flows under his fingers. Her moans drown out every one of Rick's thoughts. His lips are on her mound. Her thighs bear the mark of his caress. His name falls from her tongue in a soft prayer as his tongue sucks on her cunt. She threads her finger in his gorgeous curl. A few ministrations of his tongue lead to her fall from the edge of pleasure. Her taste coats his tongue, and she kisses it away.
"I want you," Rick warns as he breaks their kiss.
Rick demands more than she can offer. Michonne oddly does not find it in her to refuse. His teeth sink into her neck. She naively asks for all that he is, and she may not have the shoulders to bear it. The virulence of his desire will destroy her. The violence of his love would consume her. Michonne will lose herself in their marriage while seeking him.
"I'm not going to hurt you." Rick's knuckles caress Bonnie's visage. His thumb draws her lips. His name intermittently falls from her lips as he thrusts in her. Despite his hard strokes, he keeps his promise not to hurt her. Yet, the pain is not physical. The pain resides in the acceptance. Michonne has to abandon all expectations about her marriage with Rick. No man should have such power over her.
How does he slow the fall? Her hands caress his cheek. Her soft smile is only meant for him. In this moment when la petite mort claims Michonne. Rick has never made her more his. Suddenly, the fear of losing her becomes haunting. Rick drinks the moans from Michonne's lips. He clings to the high of control. He dives into the fears of losing control.
"Your safe word," Rick whispers as he loses more of himself in the act.
"Trust," Michonne admits.
She trusts him without a single doubt. She has abandoned herself to Rick's will. May he be merciful to her.
His hands frame her neck. His mouth draws a pattern of kisses to the curvature of her next. He sinks his thumbs in her throat. Michonne's pulse rushes under his palm. His finger frames the swan-shaped bones. With each touch of pressure, his dick goes deeper in Michonne. She cannot moan or call his name. Michonne's breath belongs to Rick. His fingers dig in her throat. There is slight pain yet it drives Michonne to a sensation of pleasure. When she first tenses, her body welcomes Rick's caress.
Rick looks into Michonne's eyes. There, she sees him for what he truly is. Michonne feels another orgasm rise. Rick thrusts harder and harder. Michonne is breathless. He kisses away her pants. He decides when air flows to her lungs. He withholds pleasure when she takes a breath that he does not allow. He frees her neck at will between strokes of his dick. Michonne can watch Rick lose and find himself at each moment he plays with her breath. When he squeezes or releases her throat. The small kisses that he lays on her jaws. The sensual words whispered in her ears. Ultimately, he is high enough in such a game of power to reach his orgasm. Rick carefully frees Michonne's neck. He kisses her throat. His thumbs slowly wipe the drop of tears.
There is a heavy silence. With heavy breaths, he starts to relinquish the restraint. Michonne lies by his side. He drags her in a hug.
"I'm fine now."
Michonne puts a nicotine patch on her arm. She looks as restless as she feels. Rick rolls on his back since he can no longer sleep while his wife's pacing echoes in the room.
"You can go ahead and smoke," Rick says with a raspy voice.
Michonne barely understands him through the exacerbated twang of his accent. Rick's eyes remain closed for a second while he waits for the fog around his mind to clear.
"I'm trying to quit," Michonne reminds Rick. "Someone, namely you, made me swear to stop smoking."
Rick stretches. He searches the bed for his shirt. When Rick finds it, he leaves the bed after slipping into a boxer brief. Rick walks up to Michonne.
"I also made you cum more than once in the same night that I put you through hell." Rick admits. "I get it if you need to blow some steam," Rick calmly retorts. "If I can indulge in my sins, you can too." He pursues. "I'll also work on my apology."
Michonne flinches at his choice of words. She slowly understands that Rick's facade disguises a difficult relationship with sex.
"An apology?" Michonne wants to avoid a discussion about their last tryst.
"I'm sorry." Rick sincerely says. "You must be tired of hearing me say I'm sorry." He admits.
Rick wraps his shirt over Michonne's shoulder. He starts to help her dress up. Rick slowly buttons his shirt while looking into the depth of Michonne's eyes.
"I…" Rick draws a deep breath. "I never stop. It never stops." He confesses. "You don't want to hear that." Rick humorlessly chuckles.
"I enjoyed every second of it." Michonne quickly shies away, somehow embarrassed by the troubled emotions in his look. "So keep your apology." She exhaustively says. "Let's be normal for once, Rick." She pleads. "I'm not going to leave. If I do, you'll find me. So why are we exhausting the topic?"
"Michonne?" Rick sees through the false bravado. He understands what happened last night while Michonne has yet to reconcile with it.
"You were so cocky that I thought you sucked in bed," Michonne retorts to change the topic. "Well, I was wrong." She adds to create levity. "You're going to fuck me good and apologise for my orgasm. You're an irredeemable idiot."
Rick laughs. He gives into Michonne's desire for quietness. He moves loose strands of hair behind Michonne's ear. Rick's hands frame her face.
"Rightfully so, I'm cocky." Rick agrees. "Anyone with the wife I have and the money I make would be cocky." He forces himself to relax.
"Where is your humility?" Michonne sighs as Rick's thumbs draw caresses on her visage.
"Never saw the use of it," Rick deadpans. "Humble men don't have the prettiest wife." He jokes. "Have you tried looking into a mirror? You are gorgeous." He lays a kiss on the bridge of her nose. "Also you would live a boring life with a humble man."
Michonne smiles. It is timid and bright. She will wave the ridiculous giddiness of her heart if she could. However, she voraciously devours each second of happiness Rick can afford to offer. She fears that he will slip away again. They can pretend for a bit.
"Can't really have a boring life if you're into…" Michonne pauses while she chokes on the proper word to define Rick's sexual habits.
Rick cocks an eyebrow. A smirk sits on his visage. He slightly steps back, but his hands remain on Michonne. Rick's fingers graze Michonne's arm. He looks at her with amusement.
"Miss Hollywood is a prude," Rick teases. "What am I into, Mimi?" He chuckles.
Michonne swats Rick's arm. She rolls her eyes. Her difficulty with pursuing the conversation has nothing to do with a perceived prude nature.
"BDSM," Michonne spells it out for Rick.
"I'm only into bondage and discipline," Rick coolly replies. "You can breathe because you're holding your breath for nothing." He adds. "I don't dip into sadomasochism." He answers with clear knowledge of Michonne's anxiety. "I don't care for dungeon play either. I'm not going to torture you. I'm not going to do anything against your will."
Michonne stares at Rick, and she attempts to add meaning to their conversation. She knows how the mood can quickly change when the topic is sex.
"So, I only have to call you daddy." Michonne inquires with a seriousness that draws a laugh out of Rick.
"Do you want to call me daddy, sweetheart?" He quietly asks.
Michonne squints at the tone of his voice. She wonders if he is flirting with her. However, the smooth smirk on his lips indicates that Rick is only teasing her. He is also struggling to maintain a peaceful environment.
"And kill our burgeoning sexual life?" Michonne retorts. "Something tells me you wouldn't like that."
"It's not always about me. I already ask enough from you," Rick says with tenderness. "I'm not masturbating to fixate only on my needs. I'm fucking you. So it's about you or at least what I can handle for you." He corrects Michonne.
"You're fucking me," Michonne repeats with small hurt.
"What do you like or don't like?" Rick chooses to ignore her quivering voice. "You should have preferences."
Michonne has a moment to digest the information. She racks her mind for useful details to supply. Michonne attempts to return to the conversation.
"Well…" Michonne hesitates. "I like…" she struggles to decide. "I like what you did last night."
Rick does not display an ounce of surprise when Michonne cannot find an answer in a short time. He pulls her closer to him and rests his forehead on hers.
"If that is true, you would know exactly what I did." Rick senses Michonne's discomfort. "Somehow, I'm not surprised." Rick declares. "You're too selfless to form a preference."
With ease, he lifts Michonne from the floor. Michonne wraps her legs around Rick's waist.
"You make it sound as if it is bad that I enjoyed myself last night."
Michonne laments. She suspects her words to be partially truthful. Rick shakes his head. Despite how he feels about intimacy, Rick wants Michonne to enjoy sex with him. Sex might be self-inflicted torture to Rick. Yet, he does not resent his partner. Rick only resents himself for his visceral reaction.
"If you didn't enjoy yourself, it would crush me." Rick reveals. "That's why I care more for your preferences than your lies to soothe my ego." His fingers brush Michonne's cheek. "I want you to be happy even in the area where I can't make you happy in the way you wish."
"You're the sex of my life. Why would I pretend?" Michonne counters with a defensive tone.
Firmly holding Michonne, Rick takes a few steps toward the bed. Michonne tightly holds onto him. Her fingers brush Rick's nape. He softly moans with his lips pressed to her neck. His teeth tease her skin, and he pulls his lips away before Michonne can enjoy the caress.
"This is what you prefer," Rick points out. "Love making."
Michonne shakes her head to negate the truth. She refuses Rick to feel any doubt about what he offers her. Rick sighs. Michonne is a terrible liar.
"Do you have any idea of what it means to have sex with me?" Rick asks with a concerned tone. "And if you mentioned that poorly written book, I will drop you." He adds with levity.
Michonne wears a guilty expression. Rick laments before the obvious truth. With respect to his threat, he unceremoniously drops Michonne onto the bed.
"Well," Michonne replies. "You said bondage and want to do all these things," She adds, unable to be precise on what it implies.
Rick stares at Michonne. He crawls over her. Michonne almost expects his weight to crush her. Yet, he is as light as a feather while he invades her space.
"Most of it will be like this morning." Rick expresses his concerns. "Just sex and I can be out of mind when it happens." He draws a deep breath. "Michonne," Rick stares at his wife. "What do you need from this marriage?" Rick decides to stop avoiding a difficult conversation. "I have a very clear preference as you saw early on," Rick confesses, and his finger moves a lock away from Michonne's eyes. "Some might make you uncomfortable, and this is where your preferences come in too." He softly explains. "What I want to do to you does not stop at a few spanks and ropes. If it gets too crazy for you, I need a firm no at any time."
Michonne takes in Rick's words. She ponders on what to reply.
"Do not allow me to convince you on what you need." Rick continues. "I don't always have your best interests at heart. I try to be good to you as much as I can. Being good to you can also mean that I have to let you go." He admits. Rick even considers it the proper course of action. "Yet, I will never do that. I didn't do that last night. I didn't let go of you this morning." He stares into Michonne's eyes.
Michonne understands what choice Rick places before her. The conversation goes beyond sexual preferences. Rick Grimes is a broken man. Does she need to go through the troubles of a marriage doom to failure with him?
"I will worry about myself." Michonne says defiantly.
"Use your safe word at the first sign of discomfort." His eyes take some depth. "And it does not have to be physical pain only. The wrong word , the wrong order, or anything, which doesn't fulfill its purpose. If it sounds humiliating, I doubt it. No, I'm certain humiliation is not on the table with you," Rick concludes.
Michonne cocks an eyebrow, and she has to process what Rick said.
"Humiliation?" She inquires. "Is it something crazy?" Michonne shows unexpected interest.
Rick parts Michonne's legs to be comfortable. He wraps her thighs around his waist and rests his head on her shoulder. Rick draws a deep breath. He works on his patience. He has little choice but to educate Michonne and ruin her ingenuity.
"It's degrading. You love praise, sweetheart." Rick declares. "You get wetter and wetter when I tell you how much of a good girl you're." Rick's thumb grazes Michonne's inner thigh. She shivers. "You want reward more than you want punishment and correction. Don't you, sweetheart?" His voice echoes on her skin.
Michonne's fingers disappear in Rick's hair. She presses his head to her neck. Rick does not need a more encouraging answer. He lays a kiss on Michonne's heated skin. A moan crawls out Michonne's throat.
"I love calling you sir," Michonne shyly declares. "But then I want to scream your name like I did just now." She dares to speak of her wants. "But calling you Sir, I…" Michonne struggles to explain how she feels.
Rick pulls away from Michonne's neck. His fingers tangle around her locks. He slightly tilts her head until her swan-like neck becomes easy to access.
"We can save Sir for the role play," Rick sensually says while his free hand unbuttons her shirt until he has access to her perky breast. "I'm rarely in the mood to discipline unless you challenge me like you did last night. Unless you work my last nerve and get me horny in the process, we won't have to do any disciplining." He laughs.
"Richard, it's me," Michonne says with a defying tone. "I don't need to put a thought into it to make you pissed and aroused. You get off fighting with me." She declares with a smirk.
Rick laughs, and it is one erupting from the back of his throat. The warmth and sensuality of the melodious echo of Rick's chuckle partially confirm Michonne's claim.
"I think you like to be spanked," Rick's tongue brushes Michonne's earlobe. "But how hard, that's what I will need to hear from you."
"As hard as you did last night." Michonne says
"Okay," Rick replies with a spank on Michonne's bottom.
"Okay," she sighs
"Okay," Rick spanks her again.
"Is this where you tell me the crazy thing that gets you off?" Michonne inquires. "I mean besides well tying me and being my little boss in the bed."
Rick looks at Michonne for a few seconds. He pulls down her shirt to cover her bare ass.
"What makes you believe there is more than what I told you?" He slowly pulls away from Michonne.
"Because right now you have driven me to the edge," Michonne declares when he starts to button her shirt again. "You have your answer about my preferences." Michonne cleverly comes to the right conclusion. "You're being generous, Richard," Michonne steals Rick's lines. "Tell me what you want! I might want it as well."
"Erotic asphyxiation," Rick declares.
"What?" Michonne blinks. "Wait," she remains confused. "What?"
"I'm certain you understood me without needing a second hearing." Rick retorts. "And you're absolutely free to decline."
"Choking?" Michonne comments. "I'm not choking you," she immediately pursues.
"It was never on the table." Rick deadpans. "I don't care about being on the receiving end of a choke hold. That is too much to abandon." He explains. "There is no control in the act of being choked. I meant I would do the strangulation."
"You want to choke me? Oh like this morning," Michonne comes to her senses.
"Something in that line," Rick agrees
"Richard," Michonne senses a partially told truth. "Do you want to choke me more than you did just now?"
"That is the simplest way to put it." Rick eludes the answer.
"There other ways?" Michonne cannot believe her husband attempts to confuse her. "Why would you want to choke me?"
"Can you fathom how much restraint such an act demands?" Rick answers. "Knowing that any moment of inattention could turn into a tragedy." He does not reassure his wife. "I have to focus on each of your breaths," He says with a suave tone. "Keep my mind alert when lust is an opaque veil over my brain." Rick continues. "It is like being high on power while burdened by responsibilities. Having power over you gets me off."
"Maybe I'm not ready for that again…" Michonne reluctantly declares. "I love you. I want nothing more than to be with you. Rick, I …" Michonne begins to lose her in justifications
"You don't have to explain yourself, sweetheart." Rick kisses Michonne's forehead. "There are your boundaries. We have to set some. I set mine. Didn't I?" Rick calmly states.
"You don't want to make love to me." Michonne cannot hide her hurt on that aspect. "Where does that leave us if we both can't have what we want?"
Michonne barely hides her panic. Rick is less frightened by the thought of their differences
"Searching for footing," He says to comfort Michonne. "I have to head to work," Rick continues to distract his wife from their obvious issues. "And what do you do during my absence?"
"I'm rebranding," Michonne leaps at the chance to change the topic. "I was going to try to get into movies,"
"That's interesting," Rick replies.
Michonne confuses his tone with disbelief. She has become used to the lack of support from those who surround her
"You don't believe I can do it," Michonne, disappointed, asks.
"I haven't said a word leading to that conclusion," Rick retorts. "Are you going to watch me shower?" Michonne asks when Michonne follows him to the bathroom.
"Should I?" Michonne replies.
"You have seen what was worth seeing," Rick says. "But we're not those couples," He begins to close the door on Michonne.
"If you say it, I guess," Michonne laments.
Michonne does not need a reminder. She knows how dysfunctional they are.
"It bothers you," Rick notices her expression
"No," Michonne cannot hide her thoughts as her face betrays her. "I will be in the room," she feels exhausted. "My room."
"I could be breathing from your lungs now, and it wouldn't turn us into a picture perfect couple." Rick adds to Michonne's distress. "You're banking on a miracle. You want everything to go away because you stayed."
"I thought we made it past the dark clouds after last night." Michonne understands that pretence will not help.
"I was naive too at one point." "I already tried sex as the miracle remedy. It didn't heal me." "I only use people to get through the day. I can swear to work on healing. I can't guarantee the miracle." Rick declares.
"And that is the problem," Michonne admits. "Maybe I want more than a fuck. Maybe I woke up in an empty bed and cried because you're you and I am me."