Apparently the Richonne fandom is the band of perverts fandom, and I will wear that scarlet P proudly. Here's a one off...ahem.
Rick closes his apartment door, resting his palm on the painted wood. Head down, heavy, he exhales. Seeing her there, in form fitting consignee fatigues...
He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. As he closes his eyes:
He remembers.
He remembers her scent, the softness of her skin, the fullness of her, how she felt, moving beneath him, above him, swallowing him whole. Humorously, he chuckles at himself, the situation. Every ounce of love and devotion came rushing back once she took off his helmet that day at the helicopter. He would have let her do it; he would have died for her. Right then; right there.
Too many emotions.
Love. Fear. Love. Lust.
The last one was winning, right now. And he gives in.
He walks to his bathroom, stripping carelessly of his attire as he does so. Fully nude and fully aroused, he steps into the shower, turning the water on. Under the spray, he closes his eyes again, visions of the Michonne of his fantasies, the Michonne of Alexandria, and the Michonne that had shown up to liberate him - smiling, smooth skin, rounded curves...
He exhales as he allows himself to stroke his shaft under the water. Full lips, brown eyes ignited with a passion for him, only him. He strokes faster.
Only her.
All for her.
He doesn't last long, releasing himself in the shower, loudly, his shout of completion echoing off of the subway tiled walls.
He braces his hand on the slick walls, panting, a moment of peace, quiet overtaking him. And he thinks of maybe losing himself in her again, for real. Loving her...caressing her...
Then reality hits.
Rick eyes dart open, dread taking over yet again as he comes to the realization that she will have to leave, and soon, without him.
Love you forever, Michonne. Love you forever...