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They settle on a week. Michonne thinks they should stay it a bit longer, just to be completely sure, but Rick is unswayable. She understands. It’s not one of those, ‘you’ve waited hours, what’s a few seconds’ type of deals- every tiny microunit of time spent away from home is torture for him. For her, too, but she knows it’s something different. Eight years…sometimes when she thinks about it, as she has the time to now, she feels her throat close up with new grief. How alone he must’ve felt, how scared, how isolated. Even with Alexandria, their people, and their children, Michonne had almost slid off the deep end, and still, had only managed to be brought back by her responsibility. She would almost say she doesn’t know how he did it, but she does. He’s him. He’s Rick, and he’s a fighter, and he fought to get back to her.
So, she doesn’t deny him any more than absolutely necessary. One week, they’ll spend back in the cabin, waiting for everything to settle down. Then, they’ll go back and find the last way they need to do right, and bring back support for Alexandria.
A helicopter is about a hundred times faster than driving, too, so Michonne tries to convince him that it calls about even- plus a romantic cabin stay in the meantime. That’s what really gets him, she thinks, the promise of sex more than anything else. It’s a bit underhanded to dangle it in his face like that, but Rick doesn’t seem to care. They’ve got a lot of catching up to do, he tells her, as he finally gives in. Might as well start now.
So, start they do. After so long, it’s hard to find any reason or goal in the craziness running through her mind. Curled up with him in bed on their very first night, wind rattling the roof and the forest tall and caged all around them, Michonne tells him this. He brings back a lot of new things in her that she never thought she’d know again, including shyness, so the words have to be spoken into his bare chest and without looking at his face.
“I can’t decide,” she starts, almost trying to break it up into less explicit pieces. He’s rubbing at a knot in her neck with his talented fingers, his arm slung around her shoulders in order to do so. “I want to do everything.”
She means it. Rick hums, and even that tiny sound is so layered that it feels like he’s just dragged it out of her heart- teasing and amused, but also understanding. Gentle. “I do too,” he soothes while he continues his touch. “Missed’ya so damn much.” Tilting her head, she presses a kiss to the back of his hand. He relaxes a bit further into her and the pillows, until she can feel him working his jaw and thinking hard.
“Tell me.” Her mouth moves against his skin as she asks. “Please.”
Michonne remembers how they used to be with each other, and how he used to let her be. Sometimes, when she felt like this, it was the best feeling in the world to let him take over. He’d always be so gentle about it and so eager, moving her around and giving her everything she didn’t know she needed. Already he’s doing it, even though they’re just talking. He moves her a little further into his chest and slides down into the bed until they’re all tangled up together, cuddling. She likes cuddling with him. She’s missed it so much, lying awake in her empty, cold bed, wishing for his warmth. Unable to control herself, she turns on the mattress and throws her leg over his waist, wrapping around him as close as she possibly can. His smiling face lines up with her own on their shared pillow, barely an inch between their noses. All her weight is held in his arm.
“Tell’ya what?” He asks, even though he obviously knows. Michonne huffs at him and tilts forward to press her nose against his, urging. When she moves her face back, a pretty blush is painting and warming up his cheeks.
“What we should do.”
There’s no little game in the words. She doesn’t really want to play any games right now; she just wants to enjoy him and let herself inch a little closer to coming home. Rick mimics her and gives her a bunny kiss as well. “Mm.” For a few seconds, he lingers, still thinking. “Mm,” he hums again, pushing at her harder. “Already done a lot. What did’ya like the most?”
Michonne clenches her own jaw. A bit more of her restraint is lost as she tries to think about it. It’s true- they have done a lot. He’s fucked her, gone down on her, brought her off with his hands. She’s gone down on him. That’s not strictly what she means, though. Right here, with him back in her arms, it’s like…well, it’s like reuniting with her husband, of course, but it’s also tinged with this greedy, devouring feeling. Her special thing has returned to her, and she wants to try everything every way. She wants to get bossy and watch him go loose, wants him to do the exact same thing to her. She wants him to be a bit mean, teasing, snarky, so filled with lust that he’s spilling all those filthy words out of his mouth- calling her his wife, his little wife, his beautiful, pretty woman. Michonne shifts at the thought, hitching her leg up higher over his waist and inching her core closer to him. Talking about…cumming inside her. Filling her up. Fuck, it’s too much to think about. She buries her face against his, embarrassed and overwhelmed, and hears herself make a small noise.
His grip on her becomes tighter. “Oh, honey.” She feels the curve of his muscles against the back of her head, strong and bigger than she remembers. When he tugs at her leg, her whole body moves, like she’s some weightless little thing and not a grown woman. It sends a spark of heat through her gut.
“They have you on some special training program back there?” She manages, smiling into his skin.
Rick pulls away slightly to look at her face. He’s got his own grin hanging, though it’s a bit incredulous. “You sayin’ I haven’t always been jacked?”
Hmm…no, she isn’t. Not really. Over all the years, from the prison to Alexandria, she’d always noticed how strong he’d been, if she hadn’t yet been able to see the actual proof under all those jackets. That had come later, in bits and pieces as they became closer. There had only been one time, before it all, on the road to Terminus, that she’d caught a glimpse of him shirtless. It had been a confusing feeling for her, then- the weight of that attraction. It’s not confusing to her now. He’s her husband. “No,” she says, infected with arousal. “I definitely wasn’t saying anything about ‘jacked’.”
He snorts. “Oh, be quiet.”
The giggle escapes her without permission. It cuts a bit of the lust coursing through her body, but only for a few seconds until she feels his arms tighten around her again and haul her up all the way. He moves his hips a little in order to do so. Their bodies line up just right. “I’m joking.” It’s roughly managed through the girlish sigh that almost leaves her lips. “I mean it.” To emphasise her point, she snakes her hand out from under herself and squeezes around his bicep. Rick flexes as she does it, preening. “Looks good on you. So does the extra weight.”
That makes him scoff. It really, really does, though. He looks healthy and filled out, and that special, real type of strong that’s hidden under a layer of cushion. “Are these supposed t’be compliments?”
“Rick.” Her lips press into the side of his neck, still curling up at the corners. Sometimes he needs to hear it flat out. “I like it. A lot.” Another kiss. “You’re so strong.”
If she were saying it to anyone else, it might sound a bit silly and juvenile, but Michonne doesn’t have to worry about anything like that with him- she knows he understands perfectly what she means. Just like she knows he’s caught somewhere, deciding if he’s embarrassed or if he wants to try and tease her. “Keep goin’,” he jokes, settling halfway between both.
She feels him trap her close to his chest, urging her on and hugging her tight. When she manages to pull back again, she’s sure he must see everything that's just worked up through her mind plain as day on her face. More sure when he raises a brow at her.
“I know what we should do.” The words don’t come out as even as she’d meant them. Rick perks up excitedly, nods as his eyes scan over her face. “Like this.”
He doesn’t get it immediately, though she pushes against the tightness of his arms to get her point across. “Like what?”
“Like this,” she repeats, struggling again. “Y’know.” It’s hard to explain, because she’s not even totally sure what she means. ‘Rough’ definitely isn’t the right word. Maybe…firm? Strong again? A bit frustrated with herself, she shakes all the descriptions out of her head. “Like…holding me down.”
The surprised look on his face grows. Michonne watches it move between teasing delight and desire, and then into something all smirky that she has to roll her eyes at. “Yeah?” He asks, a bit cocky.
“Shut up.” But because she knows that he means the question, no matter how stupid he wants to ask it, she shrugs into his body and tries to think of how to explain exactly what she means. “I’ve missed you so much,” is the only place she can think to start. “It’s just…I like feeling like this again. Like you’re taking care of me. Like I’m your wife.”
It’s all very honest and raw, but she isn’t embarrassed to say it. Rick’s arm tightens a little more, and he pulls her in close enough to kiss her firmly on the cheek, right underneath her eye. “Y’are my wife. Always been.”
She knows, but it’s still important to hear. A current of warmth courses through her. Her voice drops down a few notches, something close to a whisper, that might be lost if she weren’t speaking it right into his ear. “I like it,” she says again. “It makes me feel safe.” Rick swallows. It’s a loud sound, tight and tense, like he’s becoming a bit overwhelmed by it all as she is. Slowly, she begins to move her body, showing him her need and arousal. When she looks back up at him, his eyelashes are fluttering very rapidly. “Yeah?”
In a wordless response, he moves forward to kiss her right on the mouth. It’s firm and closed-lipped, and Michonne makes a surprised sound at the strength behind it. He pulls back after a few seconds, already nodding. There’s something heavy and raw in his expression that she doesn’t really know how to describe properly. “Yeah,” he manages, all rough. “Fuck. I…I feel that sometimes, an’ I don’t…y’know. Don’t know where to put it. Havin’ you back, I just get these urges. Like I wanna…”
He trails off, all the ‘wanna’s no doubt coming up hot in his mind. With her nose and another soft hum, Michonne urges him on. “Wanna what?”
Rick looks up at the ceiling. “Wanna…wanna touch’ya like that. Just put’cha where I want an’ hold’ya still, an’ make’ya let me give all that t’ya. Wanna take care of my wife.”
Another kiss is pressed into her skin, so tender and caring that it makes her melt ever further against his body. Rick drags his lips a bit messily down the side of her face when she shifts, until he’s mouthing at the sharp line of her jaw and down her throat. His wife. It feels so good to hear him talk like that, like she’s somebody’s again, really somebody’s, after so long standing upright for everyone else to lean on. He takes all the weight right off her shoulders, even the weight he’s got no way of touching yet. More kisses, over her chin now, and then the corner of her mouth. Each one oozes the warmth and desperation she can feel building up in her own chest. “I like it.” Michonne doesn’t know how many times she’s said that already, but it’s the most honest thing she can think to say. Something close to a growl pushes into her mouth as he kisses the words right out of her. When she tries to talk again, against him, it turns filthy without her even meaning it to. He licks the rest of her sentence out through her parted lips. “Mm,” she groans, surprisedly. He slides his hand up off her back to the back of her head, angling her just how he’d like- and with a little extra strength there.
Fuck. She kisses him back exactly how she’d like, wet and a bit messy, and so intimate that it borders on gross. When they’re really in the heat of it, like right now, that’s how it always is. Neither of them can think of controlling themselves- it’s just about tasting and touching, and feeling above all. How it looks doesn’t matter. He licks her with the flat of his tongue, pushing into her mouth as she gasps. Whiskey, bread, and the distinct, biological flavour of his saliva. Michonne takes everything she can from him and gives it all right back. His hand moves to hold the side of her face, and then she feels him pressing his thumb just up against the corner of her mouth. Slowly, and so filthily it makes her almost want to sob, he pulls at the pinkess of her bottom lip until she’s all the way open for him. He hums his satisfaction against her as he kisses her like that, against her teeth almost, and the soft skin of the inside of her. His stubble is scratchy and rough against her face. It warms her to feel him like that, even with her eyes closed, as she imagines the greyness in her mind.
Only after a few more seconds does he finally pull back and breathe, and by then, Michonne is squirming uncomfortably in his lap. Her thighs are sticky and warmed by the heat of her core, so strong that she almost wonders if Rick can feel it. She knows he can when she rolls back against his propped-up leg and finds the firmness of his thigh. Mouths still open and pressed close, they both gasp. “Rick.”
Without much permission, her body continues to move. She rocks her hips down against him one, two, three times before finding the perfect motion and pressure. He’s warm too, against her core, each time she rubs back on him, separated only by the thin fabric of her panties and the very end of his boxers. When she shifts again, that last little inch, the boxers slip down as well. Wet and leaking, she connects with the bare skin of his thigh. Rick swears and leans up slightly, both to give her a bit more leverage and to just watch her.
She’s soaked. Truly and honestly soaked, even though they haven’t done anything yet. It’s a bit embarrassing, feeling him staring at her like this, but it’s too good to stop. Tightening her legs on either side of his thigh, she grinds herself backwards as firmly as she can, hearing a soft, almost mewling sound leave her lips. Rick’s touching her face, now, his fingers splayed out over her cheek and her lips. When she moans again, his thumb slips into her mouth.
“Fuck, Michonne.” The words are ragged and surprised. It feels good to lick over the pad of him, almost reading out the ridges of his fingerprint as she does. Her hips stutter just right, and she grinds down against herself perfectly. Although he jolts at the sharpness of her teeth, he doesn’t pull his hand away at the bite she digs into his skin- just lets her continue her movements and continues watching her. Eventually, she gets frustrated enough to reach down and yank her panties to the side. That gets him real crazy. The grip he’s got on her face tightens, though nothing close to uncomfortable- just heavy and sure. Michonne tilts her cheek into the touch, asking for more.
Rick doesn’t obey immediately. She waits a few seconds for it before she opens her eyes. When she does, she sees him regarding her very gently and all stuffed full of fondness. A pang of painful love goes through her heart that she’s felt, maybe…every five seconds? Since she’s seen him again. Stronger, like this. It makes her feel like she’s about to burst, and can be described only with the feeling she’s got right now- tight, aching pleasure, overwhelming her with its goodness. Rick presses his thigh a little higher. His jaw works.
Michonne is nodding before she’s even made the conscious decision to, and before, as well, she knows what she’s even nodding about. As she continues to watch him and understand the weight of his touch, it comes to her. “I want you to,” she says. “Mm, Rick. Please.”
It’s beautiful, how exactly the same he still is after eight years- she remembers this face, the one that he gets right as she speaks. It’s that working jaw again, paired with the furrowed brow, paired with the snarling curl of his lip, like he’s offended or taken aback or something. But Michonne knows him; she recognizes him. All of it is powerful, hazy lust, so strong it makes him forget how to work his face right. It’s also extremely attractive. She feels herself leak a little more as she continues rolling her hips forward. Almost experimentally, and without looking away from her face, his hand tightens again. The touch is strong in this strange, restrained way, where she can tell it’s hardly a fraction of the power he’s built up in his body. Not wanting to hurt her, he slides down the side of her until he’s touching over her throat. More pressure is pushed into the back of her neck, though it’s so careful it could almost be a massage. It feels good, safe, and caring. Lips return to her temple as her eyes slide shut.
“So beautiful,” he whispers. “You’re so gorgeous, honey.”
She feels gorgeous. When her hips fail and jolt again, she has to lean up a bit frusturatedly for a new angle. It pulls his lips away from her face, but it lets her grind down against him with gravity on her side and with much less effort. Something about it makes Rick groan as well, so it must be just as nice to watch. The pleasure is loose and messy, and unfamiliar, too. Not like it had been that awful, heartbreaking handful of times she’d tried to do this to herself after he’d went away. That had been all control, and all up to her. This is him leading. Rick, taking the responsibility away for a second. One of her hands comes up to his shoulder, holding on tight for support and comfort. He turns his face to kiss her knuckles as soon as she does, finding a new job for his lips. “Let me.” It’s spoken right into her bones. Michonne is nodding. She wants him to do everything right now, everything and anything he could ever think to. “Let me eat’ya.”
Her nodding gets even more rapid. The muscle under her fingers is firm as she digs into it, and reminds her for a second to…to not move straight away. She keeps nodding, but keeps where she is, not yet shifting off his lap. Rick, ever the gentleman, nudges her with his elbow, as best he can while keeping his other hand still on the back of her neck. “Lie down,” he asks, talking extra sweet to her like he thinks she doesn’t understand. She does. Peeking out through her crinkled eyes with a small smile, she watches as he realizes. The ‘make me’ that hangs between them for a few seconds doesn’t need to be said for him to squint at her and tilt his head real coy. Slowly, he moves his fingers down the ridge of her spine until he’s tickling just above her bra strap. One more look is allotted to her, allowing a final chance to back out- and then, before Michonne realizes what’s happening, the whole room is spinning.
She lands on her back in the pillows with the air knocked out of her and the ceiling in a distinctly different place than she’d left it. Out of some type of instinct, she immediately tries to lean up and get her bearings…but then, something is stopping her. Some firm weight. Rick’s firm weight, pressing down against her left wrist, and effectively pinning down the rest of her body with how he’s leaning over to look at her face. It makes her feel helpless in a wonderful, wonderful way. She rolls her hips upward a bit pitifully, searching for the thigh that she’s lost underneath her. Rick clicks his tongue. It’s a very teasing sound. “Aw,” he hums, even worse. “Don’t worry. I got’ya.”
With his knee, he spreads her legs a bit further apart and makes a space for himself between them. That small movement sends enough warm feeling through her gut to make her moan, as she feels her folds being spread and her core opened up to him. He makes a noise like a moan, too, watching her, or maybe hearing her. “Please,” she says again, shaking her head slightly. “Come on. Don’t torture me.”
It makes him smile. More kisses are pressed into the hollow of her throat, all of them wet enough to leave his saliva behind as he moves down her body. Down her body. As soon as he kisses past her breasts, she breathes a sigh of relief. “I’d never torture’ya,” he says, feeling her lungs and her ribs moving underneath him. When he gets to her panties, just underneath her navel, he exhales as well. It’s a long, suffering breath like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “Never torture myself, either. God. Smell so damn good.”
Michonne has to throw an arm over her face- the one he doesn’t have still pinned against the mattress. She gets even wetter somehow, as he teases the waistband of her underwear, nipping at the fabric and licking over her skin and the soft curls underneath. After a bit more playing, he seals his teeth properly around a bit of the elastic. She wants to roll her eyes at him when she understands what he’s doing, and she gets halfway through the motion before becoming completely and entirely overwhelmed. It’s a corny little half-joke, but fuck, it’s actually…very hot, too. Rick tugs her panties down with a surprising amount of finesse, and Michonne thinks for a moment that, like a blind person with heightened hearing, the rest of his body is compensating for the loss of his hand. He’s got his left forearm braced beside her body on the mattress, but has hardly moved it since they’ve started.
All of those thoughts and theories fade from her mind almost as soon as they’d entered, though, as she lifts her hips up to help him and feels the soaked fabric being pulled away from her pussy. It makes her arch her back a little up into the contact, though, again, it’s gone quick. She’s left exposed and naked in front of him, save for her bra, with his face barely a few inches away from her dripping heat. Rick’s eyes darken with nothing she can describe other than pure, desperate hunger. Lord. He doesn’t know how beautiful he is, not at all, how much she needs him. She could spend her life trying to put it into words, and she’d never come close. Her body, though, already knows how. The smooth roll of her hips up in front of his face, the parting of her legs, the extra wetness that leaks out of her…it’s unconscious and something ancient. Rick understands what her lips can’t say, as if every cell inside of him is screaming with it. She watches with bated breath as the last hint of control slips away from him and as he is drawn into her heat.
It’s as good as it is every time, and as good as it’ll be forever. Rick kisses her first, right over her aching clit. His lips are soft and gentle, and purse around her flesh. For a few seconds, he just sucks at her like that. She feels it through her whole body, like red-hot current. Something loud and whiny leaves her mouth that she doesn’t even think about holding back, not for a second, not when her thighs come up and press a little tighter over his ears. It’s so…it makes her feel lightheaded and woozy. Rick kisses her again until he loses himself all the way and can’t keep himself from tasting her. She feels him lick over her clit, flat with all of his tongue, drinking the mess there all up.
He moans into her pussy. It sounds like something close to her name, or maybe another curse, or maybe something else; she’s got no clue. Between her thighs, his beard is even scratchier and feels even better than it did rubbing against her cheeks. There’s something about it that Michonne doesn’t really know how to describe. It’s so sexy. The little bit of age on him now is as heartbreaking as it is gorgeous, but she lets herself enjoy it- some small consolation for not being able to watch him grow into this. Greyness is dappled all over him now, not just his facial hair but through his curls, too. Wrinkles are pulling at the corners of his eyes, pretty new tension lines that tug at his smiles. Shit. Sometimes it overwhelms her how entirely attracted to him she is, as if she’s back in the prison again, trying to force the feelings down. Rick licks a little more purposefully at her entrance, tasting the wetness gushing around his face. “Fuck,” she hears herself gasp, and then her hand is moving down to his hair without permission. She can’t restrain herself. “So- so-”
She’s not really sure what she’s trying to say, but again, her body takes the weight of the work off her brain. Not so gently, she thrusts up against his face, rubbing her clit over his tongue and taking for herself everything he’s teasing out. Rick hums out a little surprised noise, but lets her do it. It’s lewd, and it gets lewder still until she’s practically fucking his face. On each down stroke, she feels new wetness on him that can’t be attributed to his own saliva. She hears new noises, as well, pleased and low in his throat, that she knows he’s barely aware that he’s making. Her husband, his wife. It moves through her again as his hand, splayed out in the bedsheets beside her, drifts up over her stomach. The motion is absent for a second, but when he continues, Michonne feels the purpose in it. He smooths his palm over her navel, over the curving of her uterus and the faint marks of stretched skin there. His fingers splay out and press in, firm, exactly how she needs him to be. It’s almost a possessive thing. His wife, she hears again, in the back of her mind. He sucks her clit back into his mouth, teasing her between his lips.
Yes, her whole being wants to scream at him, yes, yes, yes. It feels so good. It’s curling through her, tight and tense, and then, right as she thinks it’s peaking and becoming manageable enough for her voice to return to her (at least for a few small seconds), he presses down.
Like, down. She actually gasps, and not a quiet gasp either- it’s loud and shocked with need. He does it just as she’s rolling her wetness up against his tongue again, as she’s lifted her hips as far off the bed as they’ll go. The mattress creaks and aches underneath them at the weight of the touch, and when Michonne tries to search out his mouth again, it gets only heavier.
Heavy, firm. Serious. Sweat drips down her neck, or maybe it’s his leftover spit. One more time, she tries to move herself. Feeling the continued resistance is a bit like feeling his weight over top of her in the night when he’s in an especially climb-y sleep, or like tugging against handcuffs to no avail. Safe, she feels so safe. That word keeps coming to her. It clouds her mind so much that she drifts all the way back off into her drugged sex state, and gets all caught up in him again, now returning to her opening to push his tongue inside her. And really, how can she be blamed for trying to take him deeper? She tries, though she knows in the rationality clinging to the edge of her consciousness that he isn’t going to let her. What she doesn’t expect, though, is for him to stop altogether. As if frustrated, he pins her hips to the mattress until she’s got no hope of moving.
It brings a panicked, little confused sound out of her mouth, everything tuned to pleasure, pleasure, where’d the pleasure go. When she snaps her eyes down to look at him for answers, he’s pulling his face out from between her thighs and licking her off his lips. There’s a strange look in the gaze he returns to her- it’s a sex look, she can tell, tinged with that specific teasing sweetness that’s always underneath him when they do this. On top of all that, though, there’s…something almost warning. Something dark and heady on the control he’s got on her. Her breasts are rising and falling through her heavy breathing, and though she squeezes her thighs around his head, he doesn’t continue. “Michonne,” he says, instead, very slow. In emphasis, he keeps up the firm pressure he’s got on her stomach. “Lie still.”
Oh my god. Her whole body goes weak, calling out for her to give in, to listen, to follow his instructions. It’s extremely surprising to her- they’ve been with each other, as she’s said, as many ways as they’ve been able to think about, with her bossing him around like this probably more often than not. This is new and wonderful. It’s so freeing. “Thought-” she tries, sounding considerably more out of breath than him even though she doesn’t think there’s a whole lot of air down there. “Thought you weren’t gonna torture me.”
It’s the only bit of back talk she can work up. Rick scrunches his nose up like he knows this, because, well, he probably does. He’s got this annoying habit of knowing things about her she’s hardly able to admit to herself. “This feel like torture?” He asks, cocking his head at her as he does. The vowels are all drawn out and curved. Watching her watch him, he drags his gaze back down to her pussy. She pulses and spasms under his stare, which makes him chuckle a little meanly. “Doesn’t look like I’m torturin’ya. Looks like ya’like it. Tastes like ya’like it, too.”
Rick, Rick, Rick. Her eyes slide closed in pure arousal, though she only manages to keep them that way for a few seconds, until she feels him nip at the soft skin of one of her thighs. “Rick!” She chastises, though it’d only been hard enough to surprise her, and nowhere close to painful.
He does it again. “Why don’t’ya look at me when I’m talkin’ t’ya?”
His breath is hot against her core, and whether from that or the pure, unadulterated sexiness of the words, she tenses another time. Right in front of his eyes. The whine that rises up in her throat is a desperate sound, and she hears in it everything that she hears in her mind, she doesn’t know what to do, she needs to cum, she’s never been more turned on in her life, she’s so close. Nothing gets her the friction she needs, not even as she tenses all the way up and tries to rub off the pressure of her own thighs. He won’t let her get that far. He keeps her on display for him, spread all the way. “Oh my god,” she almost sobs, though her eyes remain obediently on him.
Rick sees it all. He kisses her, just over the little bite mark he’s left on her skin, still staring. “Oh, how sweet are you, hon’.” Condescending. Coy. She likes it, likes it, likes it. She can feel his breath on her and knows that he’s doing it on purpose. “Mm. So pretty. Listen so well. Come on, tell me what’ya want, since’ya been so good about it.”
He knows what she wants. ‘I’d never torture you,’ her ass. Michonne wishes she liked it a little less so she could roll her eyes at him again or something, or flick him on the forehead. She can’t. “Please,” she says, over the fight, and given in completely to letting him take care of her and make her feel good. “Please, please, make me cum.”
When he exhales, she feels it like he’s blowing straight on her clit. Her body jolts off the bed again, but he lets it slide with another clicking sound in the front of his mouth. “Alright,” is the last bit of talk he gives her before finally letting her off. “Course, I will, baby. Don’t gotta beg.”
Whatever curses she’d been about to let loose are lost entirely as he finally, finally gets his mouth back on her. She’s somehow even more sensitive after the little break, keyed up and closer than she’d normally be. Especially as he drools a little bit of spit out of his mouth, right onto her clit, and spreads it around with more filthy kisses that don’t stay kisses for long. Like he’s trying to eat her, he licks long stripes up over of entrance, only stopping for a few seconds to circle her clit with extra attention. Michonne keeps her body still, partly because she really, really can’t deal with him stopping, but also because the thought of…the thought of listening to him makes her that much more tense with pleasure. She wants to have him talk to her like this, wants to do what he asks, wants to not think. Her whole core works with the exertion of keeping herself still, and pretty soon, that feeling is spreading up and curling into everything else.
It’s a fast forest fire. It gets out of control real quick. By the time she’s beginning to shake with it, her hand has gone limp in his hair, all the energy and strength zapped out from her limbs. Rick picks it up for her. He keeps the same heavy pressure on her gut and pushes it that last little bit, right up on the border of suffocating, without crossing over away from wonderful. Michonne feels him. “Rick,” she moans, thrashing her head, her shoulders, and her arms in the pillows. “Oh, Rick. Oh, Rick, Rick, yeah, I’m-”
He holds her the whole way through. It hits her stronger than she’s used to, in shuddering, jittery jolts that take the air right out of her lungs and turn her into nothing more than goo. Rick doesn’t stop for a second. He licks at her how he knows she likes, through the hazy after shocks, and through the overstimulation. The noises that leave her as it begins to become overwhelming are so raw that they’re hardly familiar to her own ears, and certainly not sounds she’s ever heard without him touching her like this. It’s good, it’s so good that by the time Rick finally crawls up her body, hard against her stomach and cleaning his face off like a cat with his mouth and the back of his hand, she hardly knows what planet she’s on. By the way he chuckles into her shoulder, he can tell.
“Shut up,” she manages, though it’s barely audible around her smile. “Fuck.”
“Good?” The humble, honest question makes her grin. Even though he’s just witnessed proof of exactly how good that was for her, he still needs to hear her say it for real. Michonne nods and mumbles a tired, “Good,” right back to him. Their lips press together on the end of it. It’s a little peck. She keeps her eyes open for the short seconds, and as they pull away, too, watching him. “Good,” she says again. “Want you to fuck me.”
Rick makes that face. This time, it’s his turn to go all loose. He falls down on top of her, his weight continuing to press her down and keep her still. She can tell by just how much he’s leaking against her thigh that he won’t need long, and something about that makes her blush with pleasure and a bit of her own bossiness, coming back to her now in the afterglow of her orgasm. Without anymore hesitation, he leans all the way forward and snakes his hand underneath him to push down his boxers. The head of his cock brushes up against her stomach as he tries to adjust himself properly, and through the process of kicking off his underwear and tossing it to the side, he pulls a few lustful gasps out of himself. Michonne can’t hold back her smile. She spreads her legs a little wider for him as he settles back up, inviting him inside.
“Michonne,” he mutters, right into her neck. With a bit more adjustment, he nudges right against her, barely beginning to stretch her out. “Fuck.”
‘Fuck’ is right. She’s got a little more room now, and he’s a little more out of his mind, so she takes the opportunity to sneak a roll of her hips down onto his cock. It works a little better than she’d thought it would, maybe from how open she already is. At least an inch of him slips inside her, past the tight ring of muscle. He gives her as much time as she needs to adjust, which tonight, is not much. Michonne nods very rapidly against the side of his face and does it again when he still doesn’t move, filling herself up with more, more, more.
His mouth is wet as he gasps against her jaw, and his teeth sharp. As sweetly as he can manage, he moves forward the last little bit until he’s buried himself all the way inside. Without really meaning to do it, she brings her legs up higher and crosses them around his waist, almost trying to keep him right where he is. “Yeah,” she urges, digging one of her ankles into the small of his back. “Yeah, Rick.”
“Honey,” he says in response, still and stiff against her. “I ain’t gonna last a minute.”
She squeezes around him at the words. He doesn’t totally understand, she doesn’t think, how hot that is to her. It wouldn’t be if he weren’t the way he is in bed, so generous with her that it almost loops back around to selfish (sometimes she thinks he likes eating her out just to eat her out)- but he is like that, and he always makes sure she feels good before he does. Michonne likes when he feels good, too. Watching him blush and cum as quick as he’s pushed inside her is hot, downright sexy when they decide to do it this way. It makes her feel so wanted and so desired. Smoothing her hand down the back of his hair, she pushes him forward again with her foot. “I don’t want you to,” she assures, kissing the shell of his ear a few times as she speaks. “I wanna feel you inside me.”
“Christ.” Rick thrusts into her wetness in earnest. It rocks a gasp out of her chest and a little more lingering pleasure out of her gut. He stretches her so wide, stuffs her so full. Every time he pulls out, she feels him dragging and pushing at her entrance, then sliding in all over again. His dick is wet with her stickiness, covered in her smell and her taste. As he falls forward, she feels him catch that perfect spot inside her with just the right amount of pressure. Not too hard, not too soft. She moans. He’s so close right now, and they’re safe, and he’s not going to go away. He’s her beautiful, beautiful husband, moaning into her body, asking for comfort. She gives it to him the way he gives it to her, the best way they know how, open-mouthed and wet and filled with love.
Rick is pretty true to his word. He cums quick, though he definitely takes longer than a minute. He grabs her hand with his as he does, squeezing tight and interlocking their fingers. Michonne traces her thumb over the tall ridges of his knuckles, soothing him through the shivering intensity.
“I love you,” he’s whispering into her skin, before he’s even done. “I love you. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” It’s one of those things- they don’t need to say it, but they do because it feels good. He’ll love her until he dies, and she knows that, but there’s nothing compared to hearing those words so honest through the mindless heat of his orgasm, whispered into her skin like a prayer. The love’s never left them, not for a second. He pushes himself a little further inside her and leaves what he can. When he pulls out and flops down next to her on the bed, he’s blushing with pleasure and half asleep. That’s becoming a bit of a pattern for them lately- she feels exhausted as well.
“Good?” He manages to ask her again, double-checking.
Michonne grins and rolls over on top of his body. She slings her leg over his stomach and curls up just so, until she’s resting her head on his bicep. He tucks her close to him. She’s safe, now. After all this time, she’s found a way to be safe again. “So good.” With her lips still against his skin, she says, once more before the sleep comes up around her, “I love you so much.”
The words feel new every time- like she’s discovered the feeling all over again, Rick right there with her. “I love you,” he says, and though they’re some of the most ancient words in human understanding, she feels them in her dreams as a secret language between just them two.