...
Was it a sign she was getting weak? Was it a sign this place was making her complacent, just as Rick, Carl, and Carol feared it would? She should have known that she was better with that blade than she was a gun, or a knife even, and had it not been for that axe she'd happened upon in an abandoned hardware store she doubted she'd be home now to reflect on it.
The steam from the shower was filling the bathroom, transforming it into a sauna, and she relished the heat on her aching muscles. She let the water wash away the soap in her hair and on her skin before she just stood under the pounding spray and thought of the look on Rick's face when he saw her come through the door covered in gore and a bruise on her left cheek, just below her eye. It was throbbing but at least the icepack he'd given her had taken the swelling down.
That look. It haunted her even now. He'd asked her not to go. He'd asked her to remain home, let Abraham and his crew make the journey, but she'd insisted on going to act as backup, an experienced fighter with Glenn at her back. Had it not been for Glenn she had no doubt things would have gone a lot worse.
She and Rick were at odds too often lately. It wasn't entirely her fault. The truth was she couldn't figure Rick out. He'd never tried to damn hard to keep her at home. When they'd lived at the prison he'd worried about her going out to look for the Governor. When they'd been on the road he'd worried about her the same way he'd worried about everyone else but now things were changing. It seemed to Michonne that Rick honestly believed she wasn't capable of taking care of herself. He tried to coddle her, baby her, and convince her to stay home with Judith when she wasn't taking half-day shifts as a constable. It was beginning to drive her insane. She was damned if she could figure out the motive behind his weird behavior.
With a couple of Aleve in her system to kill the pain Michonne decided she'd better grab something more substantial than two bites of dinner. After that she'd check on Judy and Carl and then go to sleep. She changed into a sleep shirt and some shorts to get comfortable. It was a warm night despite the rain that fell. The air was heavy and moist, the kind of weather that normally made it hard for her to sleep, but tonight she was tired enough to doze off anyway.
"Dad's looking for you," Carl said, rubbing his red, watery eyes. He was clearly ready for bed. "I'm glad you're home safe."
She ruffled his hair affectionately. "Thanks. Where is he?"
"Back porch."
She wasn't looking forward to going outside and getting into another argument with him but she had a feeling it was unavoidable. She decided to just get it over with, go outside, let him say his I told you so's, and then get something to eat so she could finally get to bed.
He was standing in the dark, his arms crossed over his chest, when she stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind her.
"Rick, can't this wait until morning?"
He looked at her and shook his head. His eyes traveled the length of her, probably looking for injuries, before meeting her eyes.
"Why do you keep trying to go on these runs?" he said.
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping the pain killer would kick in soon. She needed it for the headache that wanted to start up behind her eyes.
"Why do you think I can't take care of myself?"
"You did a damn good job of it today. Look at your face. You move like you've been hit by a truck."
"I feel like I was hit by a truck. I'll take my katana next time."
"Michonne-"
"Rick, I appreciate the concern but I'm fine. I don't need you to daddy me."
"Is that right?" he said, moving toward her.
"I don't get you. What's changed since we got here? You never want to let me out of your sight. You're always in my face, always trying to control me, and I'm sick of it!"
"That's what you think?" he asked, looking genuinely hurt. "You think I want to control you? I'm looking out for you."
"Rick, you're smothering me. You're always… there."
"Since when is that a bad thing?"
Michonne sighed and pulled her hair up for a moment before she leaned against the railing. The back yard had a depressing view of the wall. She felt suddenly trapped, closed in, and wished they could live in a world without walls.
"It's not bad that you're my friend. It's just bad that you don't trust me."
"You don't get it." His voice was so soft, all the anger gone, replaced with a tone of need and longing. "I trust you. I'm scared of losing you."
"Our family is strong. We can make it."
"I don't mean the family, Michonne. I mean you."
He was standing beside her, his gaze locked on hers, trying to tell her something. She tried to figure it out, figure him out. It wasn't until he pulled her to him, pressed her body flush against his, that it all clicked.
"Just you," he whispered.
He was coming closer, bridging the gap, and it was only shock that held her in place long enough for his lips to brush hers, for his tongue to slip into her mouth. He backed her against the railing, warm rainwater dripped down her back, his tongue lazily stroking hers.
She pulled back, uncertain how to feel, how to respond. "Rick…"
"You scared me. I saw you come in here, bruised, bloody, I knew it had been a close call. You could leave here one day and never come back. I can't handle that thought."
He released her and lifted his left hand. She watched silently as he pulled his ring off, that ring that was the ever present reminder that he hadn't yet let go of the wife he'd lost, the mother of his children-until now.
Once again he leaned in. He was kissing her again, this time his mouth urgent, his hands greedily squeezing and caressing her ass, pulling her against him until she could feel his hardness pressing against her. The pushed her steadily toward the wall and lifted her leg, making her moan when he pressed against her clit. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she felt beard stubble graze her chin.
"Rick, we can't."
"Why?"
"It's…we're friends…we could mess everything-"
He dipped his hand between her legs, a finger grazing her clit where he began to rub. She became so wet that soon her juices had soaked through the thin material of her cotton shorts. Her head fell back against the wall.
"Say you don't want me," he whispered, his lips against her ear before his tongue pulled her lobe between his teeth where he gently nibbled her. He moaned and the vibration shot straight to her core, making the already budding ache there tighten.
"Say it," he whispered again.
Michonne couldn't say it. She couldn't say anything but a barely audible 'yes' that fell from her lips before he claimed her mouth once again.
With shaking fingers Michonne undid Rick's jeans and lowered his zipper. His hands had worked down her shorts but before she could free his erection he'd knelt before her, his mouth pressing against her soft curls. She stepped one foot out of her shorts before he draped her leg over his shoulder. Her hands blindly reached out looking for something to steady her. Her left hand found the chain of the porch swing, her right hand the frame of the back door.
Rick's tongue circled her clit, drawing it into his mouth where he suckled her, sending shocks of pleasure deep inside. He began to rub at her lips, stroking her, forcing her to bite down on the moans that threatened to bubble up from her core. When he slipped a finger inside, moving it in tandem with the rubbing of his tongue on her clit, she finally gave in to the need to cry out. Thankfully the heavy rain covered her voice as she gave in to the pleasure building inside her. She felt her walls clench around his fingers, a throbbing ache that exploded deep inside.
Rick stood, his face wet with her juices. He wiped at his face before licking at the sheen of sweat that had built up on her chest and neck.
"Look at me," he said, lifting her leg and placing it around his waist.
Michonne opened her eyes, looking into his as she felt him at her entrance. He held her gaze as he slipped in, moving slowly, giving her tight body time to adjust to him. He was the first man she'd been with since Mike, and that had been a lifetime ago.
Rick moved with deliberate, fast strokes, his hips rolling against hers as he took her, pushing her rhythmically against the wall. Her legs felt weaker as she felt the pressure inside her building again. Her walls were throbbing around him, wet, steadily tightening as he stroked her harder and harder.
He brought his lips to her ear, kissing her, burying his face in her hair as he grunted like a wild animal rutting inside of her. She tightened her leg around him, her left leg becoming wobbly until it threatened to give way. Rick put his hands under her and hoisted her up, holding her while she couldn't hold herself. His throaty moans were drowned out to anyone else by the storm but she heard them loud and clear. Her fingernails dug painfully into his back and it spurred him to thrust harder, faster, until finally he stilled, pumping every last drop deep inside of her.
Michonne's legs were still wobbly as she pulled up her shorts. Rick tucked himself away and they sank onto the porch swing. She was exhausted. Satisfied. Happy and scared at the same time.
"I've wanted that for so long," she said. "I just didn't know you felt the same way."
"I wasn't ready until now," he said, stroking her hair and pulling her against him. She was getting chilly with the breeze blowing against her sweat slicked skin.
"Come on," he said, standing up and holding out his hand. "I want you to stay in my room tonight."
She knew what he wanted and she knew how complicated things could get, especially once Carl found out, and their friends found out. For now she didn't care. She needed to sleep, and she was going to find rest in Rick's bed, and in his arms.
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