Their foreheads are slipping against one another. Michonne is grinding on him without reserve, sighing every time her hips draw a new shape against his. He's hugging her close, while she's trying out all sorts of small circles, ellipses, until she finds a favored motion. The pressure is deliciously kindling, she can almost feel him right where she needs him.
His heavy breaths warm the crook of her neck. She's clawing at his nape, until she reaches back for his knees, opening them wider to accommodate her ample ass. Eyes fixed on her, he shifts to adjust his footing one step lower for better leverage, and thrusts again.
She whines and frowns, they both moan. That's it. Perfect spot and range for her. He goes straight for her tongue.
Rick is febrile. Michonne is expertly massaging his length through the denim, from the bottom to the top. What a difference a few degrees make. Up, and down, round and round she goes…
His jaw drops when she thrusts up and stays there, reducing her range with more pressure, almost crushing him for a few seconds. A sticky sensation spreads in his trunks.
Her eyes do not leave his face, twisted by pleasure, mirroring hers, while his pupils dart from her content smile to her breasts, down to where their flushed bodies are joined in a whirl.
Having been absorbed by her efforts, he forgot that he'd been gripping her working waist since the beginning of their dance. She brings his hands under her top, to her love handles, waiting to see where he chooses to venture.
"Show me…"
In a slow, continuous caress, he feels up her right side, goes by her breasts, to her throat, where he lingers while he's breathing her in… And from between her shoulder blades down to her lower back, where his left hand pulls her closer, while he indulges in an obscene kiss. His right moves to her flexing abs, where his thumb reaches down, behind her belt, and starts stroking the edge of her mons.
She closes her eyes and grinds harder, while he's registering how her body tenses and relaxes with every move he makes. Her overall goosebumps let him know he's on the right track.
He glides back up to her breast, where he diligently teases each of her tits, while inserting a few knuckles in her waistband to emphasize her gyration from behind. He concludes his heavenly round with both hands firmly kneading her ass, and a satisfied smile.
"Like this?"
"Yes…" she hisses. "It's a good start".
Michonne is soaking wet, and triumphantly making headway in acting out her pleasurable plan. Rick was the only one able to provide her the bloodrush she had been craving for.
Her ongoing satisfaction is simultaneously leading her to peaceful heights, but also to deep, empty carnal crevices. She can feel them open, one by one, being filled by a flood of delightful sensations, as her pussy is being deliciously rubbed to the song of the Virginian spring.
Down there and beyond lay a confusing landscape, of tragic events and hellish experiences, along with improper thoughts, fueled by barely contained impulses, or was it the other way around...
Thoughts that didn't always find rational footing. They aren't meant to, anyway. So she had stopped trying, and she let herself be moved, get aroused, and occasionally rub one out, whenever necessary. Of course Rick was attractive. Even if it would never happen in real life, at least it felt good, for a short while. It wasn't a big deal. It happens.
Up here, everything is as clear as his eyes, helplessly imploring her to never stop. She loves everything about this man. Their relationship had started out with so much death, distrust, and betrayal. Though the road to here has been complicated, she now finds no issue in rationalizing why, or how she fell in love with Rick Grimes.
In between the two, a bloodrush. Where those realms meet and overlap. An intricate lace of webs and waterways, violent ebbs and flows, from her heart to her pussy, orchestrated from her citadel. There, on the ground, she had found unexpected answers to her knots of dissonance.
They had walked, walked and run, and killed together. They had stumbled, slipped and fallen more than enough for one lifetime. But on her own personal journey, she'd learned that she was irrepressibly attracted to, even enamoured with this man. The way he held himself, the way he fought; the way he cared, and the way he tried.
Once the seed of affection was planted, Michonne's infatuation kept growing in her shadow like a wildflower. No matter how barren the soil got, it kept growing until it blossomed, almost in spite of her. At first, she felt confused by this, rather than embarrassed. The attraction, she could deal with, and she had, as soon as it'd surface. But her feelings had stayed buried deep until it sprang on her that they wouldn't go away.
They were opposites, who mirrored each other. Brave, broken, magnetic. With him, she felt human, and hopeful. What were the odds? As far as she knew, so few of them were left. That's exactly why she had conceded that it was for the best if she kept her distance.
Family, duties, responsibilities, survival... It was never the time to be selfish.
Not anymore.