come and go with me to that land where i’m bound

It had been Carl’s idea, of course, after a long day of work and fruitless supply runs on the road.  

“Denise said this is PT.”

Rick had snorted good-naturedly at the assertion. “Oh, she did, huh?”

Carl had relented, the twinkle in his good eye a clear reflection of the childlike playfulness still present in him, no matter how much of a young man he had been forced to so painfully quickly grow into. “Well…it’s hand-eye coordination and stuff. So...it’s probably good for PT?”

Rick hadn’t needed any further convincing, and Michonne hadn’t needed to be persuaded either to watch her two boys throw the baseball back and forth to one another in the front yard of what had unofficially become ‘their’ house.

She held Judith in her arms from a safe distance on the front porch as Rick and Carl laughed and teased one another, changing speeds and distances on each toss of the ball. At one point, Carl remembered seeing a kid’s baseball bat in one of the closets in the house, and the game evolved from catch into an impromptu batting session, with Rick and Carl switching pitching and hitting as the mood struck them.

Michonne could see that the exercise was actually a good thing for Carl and his spatial relation, but more importantly, it had an immediate, beautiful effect of causing laughter ringing in the air and the smiles on both Rick and Carl’s faces as the sun began to set in the sky.

“Hey! Come on down.” Rick’s face was open and relaxed as he called up to her. “Your turn. Carl’s killing me out here.”

She wanted to protest, because there was something about seeing father and son take delight in such a simple pastime, but there was something about Rick’s grin and Carl’s answering nod that made her shake her head, kiss Judith’s cheek, and walk the both of them down the steps to join the game.

“You got her?” Michonne playfully nibbled at a delighted Judith’s ear as she passed the baby off to Carl. “I’m probably a little rusty.”

“That’s all right. I know I am.” Rick massaged his shoulder ruefully before tossing the ball up in the air a few times while waiting for her to get the bat. “Here we go. Ready?”

“Always.” Michonne gripped the bat and tapped the ground a few times before settling into an approximation of a batting stance. The throw was fairly easy, and Michonne swung the bat cleanly and effortlessly, right below the arc of the ball.

“Strike one.” Rick’s teasing voice echoed the light in his blue eyes. “Good start.”

Michonne tried to keep her mouth from twitching into a full blown smile as she picked up the stray ball and threw a fastball at a smirking Rick. “Shut up and pitch.”

Carl’s laugh caused Judith to giggle as well from where she rested on Carl’s hip, and the smile touched her lips easily. “You heard her, Dad.”

“Oh, you’re on her team, huh? Typical.” Rick shook his head in mock annoyance, and used the brief distraction to surprise her with a change-up. “There’s two.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Michonne tossed the ball back to him and took a couple of practice swings. “I got this one. Do your worst, Sheriff.”

“You asked for it.” Rick faked a few starts before throwing a fastball, one Michonne almost caught a piece of before swinging and missing yet again. “And strike three.”

“So I’m out?” Michonne shook her head teasingly in Carl and Judith’s direction. “I don’t think so. Let’s go again.”

“Sure thing. But first…come here Carl. You throw underhand. Keep Judith behind you…good. Okay. Throw it when I tell you to.” Rick jogged over to where Michonne was, and before she could move, he was gently moving into her space. “How about a couple of pointers?”

“Okay.” She was too surprised to say anything else as he took the permission she gave and rested one hand lightly on the bat with hers, while the other rested on her hip.

“You want to turn, step into it, and grip the bat…like…” Rick’s fingers gently traced over hers as he adjusted her hands and her stance. “Good. Carl, go.”

Carl’s easy throw and Rick’s hands on the bat with hers, along with his body guiding hers forward, sent the ball in a neat arc so it landed cleanly on the next lawn. The joy on Carl’s face, mirrored as she turned to her right on Rick’s was enough to make her laugh, unbelievably and unreservedly, at this moment in time she would never forget with her newfound family.

stay alive (reprise)

She could feel his traitorous body pulse against hers, almost in defiance of the unnatural silence that permeated the air and the world around them.

His hands were rough and hot to the touch as they slid down her sides and tore at her shirt. His muscles flexed and rippled in response to the alternately tender and desperate touches of her fingertips. His eyes were blazing with passion, pain, and everything in between, the heat of which could have only been contained by the unshed tears, heightening the already intense shade of blue.

The sheen of sweat on his skin. The bobbing of his throat as he swallowed sharply.

The beating of his heart against hers.

He was alive. She was alive.

It would hurt like hell the moment the numbness wore off, but for now, they were here, and they were alive.

For better or worse, until death did them part.

The sharp bite to her abdomen was almost enough to break through the initial otherworldliness of the night, almost enough to jolt her back to the land of the, if not living, then the reality they were currently, unwillingly, living in.

Rick’s look of abject horror at the unconscious placement of his series of love bites was one she couldn’t stand to see, and Michonne could only thread her fingers through his curls, pulling him up to where she was so she could respond with everything she possessed, everything she could give.

It wasn’t the last of the marks they would leave on one another out of sheer need to reaffirm life and their bond to one another, with their teeth, their lips, their hands, and their bodies.

The pain of the bite and the mark it would leave behind would eventually fade.

Their anguish, their unbearable, unimaginable shared pain hadn’t even yet truly begun.

Blood stained the sheets and their bodies were bruised and their cries of pleasure were simultaneously howls of pain and sorrow, and the night was long as they took each other again and again, out of their bodies and back again, causing Rick and Michonne to feel more acutely than they could bear.

(we can do it) anywhere

It was Rick who had suggestively pointed out that they hadn’t yet officially christened the spot in their home where the physical aspect of their relationship begun.

Michonne had been slightly offended at his assertion, remembering the moments just before that first heated kiss that still reverberated in both her daydreams and her night fantasies in the best way possible, where their hands and souls had found one another’s, and the moments after, when she had first felt the stirring of his desire for her as he had laid on top of her for the first time, and of her desire for him as their kisses had deepened and their touches more intimate, more wanton as they had delved into one another.

Of course, not long after those first, heated, heady moments, he had pulled her up so that they could make their way upstairs, taking detours against the banister, almost tripping the entire way since they couldn’t bring themselves to tear away from each other long enough to walk in a safe manner, and then Michonne had fully appreciated Rick’s decisive nature and sheer passion for the first of many, many times that first night as he had finally lifted her up mid-stair to shorten the scenic route they were taking to the bedroom.

So if they were basing arguments on sheer technicalities, Rick was right in this case, but…

“Are you saying you don’t wanna fuck on our couch?”

The playful, inane discussion had ended abruptly after Rick’s not-so-innocent question, and after a quick check to ensure that Carl and Judith were both asleep in their respective rooms, Michonne took it upon herself to rectify the situation and pulled Rick to her by the belt loops in his jeans so he would walk with her downstairs.

Her fingers entangled in his dark curls and she tugged insistently until his lips were hot on hers and claiming her in the way she had come to crave as she backed them up towards their intended target, the back of her legs hitting the arm of the couch, causing his chuckle to tickle her throat and in turn making her giggle throatily in anticipation and at their inability to keep from acting like horny teenagers experiencing their first love affair when they were together.

Heat spread throughout her body as their mouths and bodies spoke for them, making her laugh melt into a moan as his hands settled on her waist and as their hips drew together in longing and desire that was so familiar and yet still excitingly new.

Rick somehow managed to kick off his boots without moving his mouth from hers, and then it was a matter of moments before their clothing fell in an ungraceful heap to the floor and they were falling in a tangle of limbs and Michonne’s locks and entwined fingers onto the couch, their couch, the place where they had first realized what had been right in front of them for so long.

They managed to kiss and writhe their way into a position where Michonne was straddling Rick’s lap as he sat upright on the couch, his hands reverently caressing her thighs and backside and her fingers relearning the shape of his jaw and the pattern of ripples and corded muscles that defined his neck, shoulders and upper arms. It was the perfect vantage point to really see each other and touch one another, Michonne reflected, even as she closed her eyes in ecstasy in deference to the one strong hand gripping her ass and the other sliding between her legs to sample the wetness already pooling there.  

His face was just underneath hers and she could soak in the rugged features and the blue eyes that she had memorized so completely in the last few days. His body was pressed against hers and slick with sweat so she could see and touch every line, every surface and claim it all for her own again. His mouth was hot on her mouth, on her shoulder, on her breast, on that spot on her neck that made her shudder against him and it was like they had never left this couch after that first night, like he had picked up in his reading of her body with his lips and tongue right where he had left off and was seeking to find the climax of the story all over again.

And then he was inside of her, spreading her legs just so on top of him and guiding them both to an angle that made the present moment slam into her so fiercely that her senses were consumed by only him: his scent; gunpowder, the worn material of his sturdy, often bloodstained coat, the outdoors, and the indefinable notes that were uniquely Rick, his taste that touched her tongue as smoke, spice, sex and home all at once, her hands on his solid, comforting chest, where she could feel his heartbeat under her fingertips, the way he cursed and groaned her name in between grunts of pleasure, and the look of what could only be described as possessive tenderness he proceeded to bury himself to the hilt inside of her.

He was here and his thumb was all too real rubbing against her clit, his beard had ruined the sensitive skin of her chest and neck, the sweat on his legs mingled with hers and his hand was slippery with the sheen on her back but sure as he continued to direct his thrusts into her, to guide her bounces so that the here and now was all she needed with him.

Her hands braced against his chest but the sudden rush of heat and pleasure nearly unseated her, and he was the only force keeping her holding on with his body and his murmurs in her neck, taking what he could from her sated body until he broke and banged her senseless again, pressing her solidly into the cushions until he was breathing her name and murmuring her praises as he came with a grunt, until they were both melted against their couch, hands entwining in their favorite unspoken gesture after they had made love.

“So does this officially count as being christened now?” Michonne couldn’t help grinning up at Rick, loving the way his weight felt on top of her, and being strongly reminded of the first kisses she had experienced with him in this very same position, on this very couch.

“Hmm.” Rick looked like he was pretending to think about it before a sly smirk spread across his flushed face. He sat up, ignoring Michonne’s mock protests at losing both his body and his body heat, pulling her along with him and turning her over so her ass was in the air and his hips were tantalizingly positioned just behind. “I can think of some other things we can do to break in this couch.”

The protests quickly left her mind and fell from her tongue as he brought her up to him just enough so he could intoxicate her post-orgasmic state even further with a deep, toe curling kiss and then give the same, luxurious treatment to her neck and down her spine, as his hand smacked her backside and gripped the spot firmly, so they could begin to stir one another again for yet another endeavor on the couch they had definitively claimed as their own.

take the southern route

The previous night had been the culmination of so many moments between Michonne and Rick, of realizations of who they wanted to be to one another now that they had a chance to breathe, of getting to know one another in a deeply intimate, physical sense that had added an entirely new dimension to their longtime, firmly established and cherished partnership.

They had taken their time, learning one another, experiencing all of the new aspects of what they were capable of together, and it had been a beautiful expression of the love that they had not yet expressed verbally, but felt so strongly in their very bones, their very being.

Tonight…tonight was to be a continuation of that exploration, of that expression of love, but the moment Rick shut the bedroom door behind them and pressed her back against the flat surface with the barest hint of roughness, with that hunger in his eyes, Michonne knew that tonight was also about passion and about playing, about sheer desire for one another that couldn’t be contained in a bed or on a couch.

His tongue was teasing hers with a sinful eagerness as he divested her of the rest of her clothes and the air around them only became hotter as their bare skin pressed against one another’s. The night before had been an outpouring of lovemaking that had set the two of them free from previous lovers, from all that they had been through to make it here, and from their roles as leaders and pillars of their newfound community, and yet bound her to Rick in a way that had been, looking back, inevitable, but this felt even more intense and immediate, and her body began to sizzle in anticipation of the memory of his skin on hers and just what he was going to do to her now that he had her naked and writhing in the tight space between his hard body and the door.

“I can’t wait anymore.” His whisper and his breath on her neck made her head fall backwards and hit the door and then he was pushing her higher, kneeling down so his breath was now making her core pulse relentlessly with overwhelming need, with insatiable desire for him, and her mind melted along with the rest of her body.

Her legs clenched around his shoulders, her hands grabbed for his hair and she could feel her eyes rolling back in her head at the sensation of his beard brushing enticingly against her inner thigh, and then further until she could feel her wetness soaking him and his mouth experimentally opening the barest amount to drink it in, before he began working his tongue inside of her in earnest. “Rick…yes…”

“Michonne…” His growl made her spasm around his tongue and then she felt herself being pulled down onto the floor, his kisses, bites and suckles causing her to arch her back for him even as he, being Rick, tried to make her as comfortable as possible on the hard surface.

“Fuck…” She fell back against the floor as he lashed her with his tongue, licked her clean, suckled her clit just enough to give her pleasant little aftershocks from the orgasm that had just effectively rocked her world. “God…Rick…”

“Mmm.” She could feel him grin at the litany as he kissed his way up her body to inhale her lips, already swollen from her efforts to keep as quiet as possible by biting them. The taste of the two of them mixed together on his tongue was nothing short of erotic and she was ready to come again just at the sizzling kiss. “I’ve been picturing doing that to you all damn day…”

The rush of heat to her core made her moan so loudly she could hear it echo throughout the house and she mentally pictured doing the walk of, if not shame, then sheepishness from his bedroom yet again in front Carl, Daryl, Glenn and the rest of their family for a fleeting moment before she lost herself in him again, the way his hands were gripping her hips as he alternated biting and kissing his way across her jaw and her neck.

He was right above her, rubbing his hips so deliberately against her, so close but so far away from where she needed him…and whispering into her sweaty skin…

“Laying you out on the floor of our bedroom and throwing your legs over my shoulders…”

“Yes. Ours. Yes…” She writhed against him in need, something so primal and instinctual that it tore through her, every hesitation she’d ever had about what she wanted out of this life, and whether or not she would ever actually get it. “Baby…please…”

He positioned himself just at her entrance, pressing his forehead against hers as he began to slide inside of her, and she could see his smirk contrasting with his intense gaze, darkened with wonder and desire at the way she was reacting to his words and to his body. “…You screaming my name…”

“Rick!” He couldn’t possibly fit inside of her, but then he was in so deep and letting her ride it out, letting her set the pace for them, letting her pull him to her by her legs in a effort to draw him even closer, so that where her body ended, his began, and back again.

His playful, commanding whispers soon gave way to grunts that sent waves of electricity through her as pounded into her, rubbing against her just right and sending her once again to heaven and crashing down so she was back with him and freeing herself enough to accept his own release inside of her, tugging him by the hair so she could comfort herself at the slow descent back to reality on a hard floor in their bedroom with his lips, still tinged with her taste.

“Mmm.” Rick drank in her kisses slowly, and the sensuous movements of his lips along with the vibration that rose from his chest into hers as he breathed into her made her crave him all over again. “You wanna get into bed?”

Michonne barely gave the notion a thought before she had recovered enough to playfully hook her leg around Rick’s hips and used the leverage to maneuver herself on top of him, so she was resting on top of him and laying her chin on his chest, so she could look up at him while she responded.

“I’m good right here.”

He answered her smile with one of her own, even as the contented sparkle in his eyes soon shifted into a wicked one, one that promised that their night was only just getting started. “Yes, you are.”

things ain’t always set in stone (i know my destination but i’m just not there)

After Andre, after Mike, after…after everything, it became easy to survive.

It was living that was the hard part.

Living without them, living with herself, it was a burden she carried along with her katana and the ropes that dragged the very essence of her otherworldly, ever present pain everywhere she went.

She had thought that was all there was left in this world, walking among the monsters and eventually becoming one of them, dwelling on the constant pain that left only numbness, living, but not really, to survive, and surviving to live, a vicious, unrelenting cycle that left her a little more hollow each day, a cycle that patiently scooped out a little more each day of what had made her Michonne.

And then she had met Andrea, a woman who reminded her what it was like in better days, in days long gone by in a world Michonne couldn’t quite remember anymore, when there were such things as girls’ nights and cabernet sauvignon and a semblance of normalcy.

Andrea, who had indirectly led her to Glenn and Maggie, both of whom had unwittingly led her to the fence of a once overrun prison.

To him.

To Rick. To Carl. To Judith.

To her family.

And little by little, day by day, she could feel the ragged pieces of her soul slowly begin to repair, still damaged but so alive in the presence of her newfound world with these people, her people.

She could feel herself becoming Michonne again.

It was in the moments she rode up to the prison on her horse, seeing those smiles on Rick’s and Carl’s faces in anticipation of not what she was bringing with her, but the fact that she was returning to them once again.

It was in the moments where Rick would teach her and Carl about snares in the middle of a lonely forest that wasn’t quite as lonely with her two boys there.

It was in the moments where Michonne would lean over to caress Judith’s hair as the baby sat on Rick’s lap, where she felt a sudden, pleasurable jolt at just how domestic it felt, and how Rick took her presence in stride, as if it was as natural to him as breathing.

It was in the rush of giddiness she felt when she found stale M&Ms and Big Cats on a run. It was in how she laughed at Daryl’s assertion that he had indeed been a homicide detective in his previous life. It was in the way she felt as she had fallen on her ass after overestimating the walkers gaining on her on her way back to the prison. It was in the way she demanded that they were going to Alexandria, and that was that. It was in the simple pleasure, the taken for granted ritual of brushing her teeth at night before bed.

It was in the way she could physically feel the pain of Glenn’s and Abraham’s deaths, as viscerally as a baseball bat to the head.

It was in the way she couldn’t bring herself to hold Judith, really bring her close and cradle the baby girl until she allowed herself to truly break down and cry, until she truly began to feel the loss of her son.

It was in the way desire coursed through her as Rick’s eyes had met hers on that couch on that fateful evening, in the way her skin blazed with heat in the wake of his eager touch, in the way her toes curled and her body was slick with sweat, and in the way she felt the gentlest of pressures as his forehead touched her own in the moments after they had made love for the first of many, many times.

Hell, it was even in the way her stomach had dropped and her cheeks had burned hot as she came out of Rick’s bedroom the morning after that first, blissful time, only to find all of her chosen family, including Carl, waiting on the staircase and the landing, eyebrows slightly raised but not a word said and oh God, it was the end of the world, but apparently that didn’t mean an end to awkward moments between friends - and her lover’s son.

It was somehow oddly reassuring.

It meant, it all meant, that she was alive once again.

More importantly, she wanted to be alive. They, Rick, Carl, Judith, and the rest of their extended family…they made her want to live.

They had lost so much already, and they couldn’t count on a place to call home anymore – not the prison, not a church, not even Alexandria, the closest thing to home they had to date – but as long as she was with these people, with Rick at her side and his children a presence in her life just as much as she wanted to be a presence in theirs, Michonne knew, that whatever happened, as long as she was with her family, she would always have a home.

click boom

“On the floor.”

The time he had ordered Andrea, a perceived enemy, to the ground next to a prison fence.

The time he had breathed the words into her neck as he had pulled her down from where he had her back up against the door of their bedroom.

“Say yes.”

The time he had made the demand of an ally they weren’t sure they could trust in an effort to secure a victory in a war where no one would win.

The time he had urged her on with murmurs in her ear as he went so achingly, passionately, deliberately slowly inside of her until she was begging and affirming just how much she wanted him.

“Get on your knees.”

The time he had the upper hand on a Savior, an ugly reminder and representative of the group that had murdered and brutalized so many of their own.

The time he had ordered her to kneel in front of him on the bed so he could appreciate the view from behind, so he could lay his hands on her and bring her closer so he was rubbing in between her legs and priming her body for just what he wanted to do to her that particular evening.

The rough timbre of his authoritative voice, the swagger of his narrow hips, the unrelenting ice-blue stare of his eyes, and the way he could hold his own with nothing more than bravado and a gritty, take-no-prisoners demeanor…it was as electrifying when he was acting as Rick, both the de facto and chosen leader of Alexandria and of their band of survivors, ready to do battle for his survival and that of his chosen family as when he was just hers, just Rick, the man she loved, the man who was one of her reasons for wanting to survive, the man with whom she shared her hopes, her fears, her determination, her secrets, and her bed every night.

Sometimes, though, the leader and the lover blended and she was caught in between, unable and eventually not wanting to extricate herself from the temptation that was hinted at by that voice, those hips, those eyes, and that demeanor, not wanting to miss a moment of Rick, and the way he could so authoritatively command her attention and every synapse firing in her body and her mind without even trying.

“No. Like this.” His hand lightly brushed the small of her back as he carefully maneuvered her body so she was in the position to most effectively fire her long-range rifle. “Just like that. It’s not about the hands. It’s about the body. Your stance. Tilt of your head. Your eyeline. Yes…perfect. You look perfect.”

Clearly, Rick was probably not the ideal choice to take her for one-on-one long range gun practice, as skilled as he was, but right now, Michonne didn’t give a damn as his body pressed just barely against hers, his hands familiarly adjusting her stance, and completely unaware of how his attention to detail and serious disposition was turning her on.

“Is that your gun in my ass preparing for target practice, Sheriff?” The question was asked almost conversationally as she held the rifle, keeping her eyes open as she looked through the scope and concentrated on the target beyond.

Or maybe he was aware of just how he was affecting her, because she could feel that smirk against her neck and she could almost feel the heat from his gaze as he allowed a bit of playfulness to enter his voice.

“Just waiting for you to fire the opening shot, ma’am.” He leaned in closer and she could now distinctly feel him grinding into her backside and his breath blowing lightly against her ear. “But I think we both know that ass can take it.”

It was safe to say that the weapons training session was effectively finished for the day, and that their one-on-ones would in the future be held in the privacy of their bedroom in their home in Alexandria.

Delaying writing a semi-companion piece to this piece by...posting a link to this piece. Yep. 

don’t pull out on me yet

His hands weren’t guiding her so much as holding on for dear life and for his own personal playtime as she sank back down onto him, once again delighting in the way he could fit so perfectly inside of her even as her body had to work to accustom itself to him all over again. The resulting explosion of pleasure just at having him inside of her was enough to nearly finish her off, but then his hands found the curve of her waist and she responded instinctively, working her hips in his hands and making her body rise again and again for him, her thighs clenching around him harder every time and making it even more sinfully pleasurable as he met her every bounce.

Even as Michonne wanted to tilt her head back and let go under his touch once again, or on top of it, in this case, she felt herself drawn towards him and she looked down to see those deep blue eyes fixated so completely on her that she couldn’t help reaching for him, to bend down and cover him with her hair as she met his lips. His hand found hers and even though she had been so close as she rode him, she was even more on edge now, this close to him and hearing his heartbeat against hers.

Everything shattered and fell back into place around her as she fell hard for the first time, burying her head in his neck and purring his name, never tiring of it falling from her lips, never tiring of his reaction to her saying his name in intimate moments like this.

Rick’s thrusts grew stronger and more deliberate as he changed their position once again, the sheets falling off the bed, barely letting her recover before he was on top of her this time and filling her so deeply before pulling out and sinking back into her, she didn’t think she would last much longer, that her body would simply give out and just succumb to the maelstrom of ecstasy he was building up again inside of her.

“Michonne…” His voice was lower and less controlled now as he worked his hips, seeking his own release. “Michonne…”

She couldn’t answer as she arched underneath him, meeting him thrust for thrust even as her limbs tightened around him and as her hands came up to tug at his curls, stroking the corded muscles of his neck before clawing a path down his back, needing to feel him and breathe him as they moved together, though being this close to him would still never be enough, no matter how intricately they were entwined in one other like this.

It was as if he could read her mind and her body and soul all at once, because just as the thought crossed her nearly melted mind, his hand was rubbing her as he sought his final burst of pleasure and she was slammed with an orgasm that nearly sent her off of the bed with whatever was left of the blankets and sheets, and a moan that would have carried to the other rooms in the house, to Judith’s and Carl’s hearing, had her lips not been pressed into Rick’s shoulder in a combination of a kiss and a love bite.

The only thing that was anchoring her was Rick, his eyes, his lips, his hands on her cheek and his muscled, sweaty body pressed against her, and even in her post orgasmic haze she was aware that she was home in his arms, in a safe, familiar place she had only known for a few days, a place that she’d somehow known for far longer.

put you to bed, bed, bed

Rick’s beard was both a blessing and a curse, and sometimes Michonne was decidedly unsure as to which one it was. When he was making her his with a scrape of the rough stubble and a suggestive smirk into her inner thigh, she could easily come up with a thousand praises and even hymns to lionize its wonders. During the rest of her nights, however, the whisker burn of light brushes against her skin woke her up and left her skin irritated for hours afterwards. Every time the request for him to shave came closer to the tip of her tongue, especially in her waking morning hours when all the lotion in the world - and in their world, lotion was limited enough - wasn’t helping the prickling burn.

She never let the request fall from her lips, though, because a little whisker burn meant that she had spent another night with Rick resting at her side, and after everything they had been through together, she had learned to like it – and him – a little rough.

---

That damn thick, luxurious mane of hers would be the death of him. During the day she could casually brush her locks over her shoulder and make him do whatever bidding that followed the insouciant gesture, and during the night the thick mass would threaten to nearly suffocate him, covering his nose and his mouth as she rested her head on his shoulder or chest. He would try to inhale and shift away only to often end up mildly choking on her hair, and even when he managed to maneuver her so her mane was covering only the pillow, he somehow always managed to wake up in the middle of the night to a stray lock tickling his nose or accidentally hitting him as she turned and cuddled so she was as close to him as possible in her sleep.

It always managed to balance out when he was able to entangle his fingers in that dark hair, and even more so when he took his sweet revenge by tugging it playfully as Michonne moaned on top of him in bed.

what it takes to come alive

“Marry me.”

The words had fallen from Rick’s lips, still swollen from staking his claim on her mouth, a proclamation that somehow still managed to be a question, following an intense session of lovemaking that had somehow occurred in the midst of a rapid fire strategy session with just the two of them, where she had outlined the plan she had come up with for yet another offensive against the ever looming shadow that the Saviors had cast over their little corner of the end of the world.

It could have been accidental, given the softness of Rick’s voice and the almost casual way he had spoken the words even as he had attempted to catch his breath, but as Michonne sought his eyes, stunned into silence, it was clear from the way his blue eyes blazed, and from everything she knew about the man that was Rick Grimes, that it had been deliberate in every way, and that he was not taking the phrase that was hanging in the air lightly.

For a moment, the words made no sense to Michonne, and all she could do was meet his gaze as her mind struggled to comprehend just what he was asking, and why he was asking it now.

They had been married long before had ever considered consummating their relationship, and neither Michonne nor Rick had felt the need to prove it in front of witnesses with the rings, the vows, or the white dress normally associated with the start of such a union.

They didn’t need to make it official, but as Michonne’s racing mind slowed down and allowed her to fully grasp the import of Rick’s simple proposal, she realized that she, too, wanted to make it official.

In an uncertain world where nothing, not a day, not a person, not a promise was guaranteed, where they lived their lives walking on a tightrope of danger with monsters both dead and living swarming just underneath, where they discussed plans for a future they may not live to see carried out, Michonne knew that one of the few things that she could count on was that what she and Rick had was rare, undeniable, and certain.

She wanted Rick with her, officially, unofficially, physically, mentally and legally in every way she could be with him, for however long they had left.

So she answered him in the only way that could fully express everything she was thinking and the suddenly overwhelming emotions flooding her very being, and she took his face gently in her hands, her finger grazing the stubble that had just ruined her skin, so she could bring her lips to his.

Her murmur of ‘yes’ melted into the heat of his mouth, but she could feel the responding exuberance from him, and it was as if he was breathing life into her as he deepened their kiss, as if he was memorizing the word and the way she had said it with each brush of their tongues. 

This was supposed to be a lighthearted, smutty story as a follow up to my first Richonne story and I just...I don’t know what happened. 

I don’t know how to tumblr so...I’m just gonna fanfic. 

My first foray into the Richonne fandom of it all was a fun one. I loved writing this one shot and exploring these characters.