Amy On Her Own

As it turned out, falling asleep during the apocalypse was a very dangerous thing to do.

Amy Harrison opened her eyes and looked around the forest. It was peaceful, deserted except for a few birds and some squirrels. One dropped a nut that almost hit her on the head. She wasn't sure if it was aiming for her or if it was an accident. Either way she decided she'd leave the little creature to its tree in peace.

She hadn't meant to fall asleep. All she'd wanted was to rest a moment, after miles of walking with their group. They were trying to find somewhere safe to make a camp and so far they'd had no luck. Walkers were always everywhere, a never ending threat they just couldn't completely escape.

"Andrea?"

Amy headed back the way she'd came. She'd had no luck finding water. Her jug was still empty, her body was itchy from mosquito bites, and her head throbbed from the heat. She'd kill someone for an hour under some air conditioning and a big bottle of icy cold Pepsi…

"Andrea," she whispered again.

When she failed to get a response from her sister Amy's heart started to pound. Where were they? She looked around and came to a horrible realization-this wasn't where she'd left the group. In fact, she was sure she'd never seen this area of the woods. She should've been back by the road by now.

"Oh, no," she whispered. She was lost. "Fuck!"

She hadn't felt this scared since that time when she was six years old and she'd gotten separated from her parents at the grocery store. She'd gone off on her own to look for toys and when she went back to where she thought her mother had been, only to find her gone, she'd panicked and started crying. Back then her mother had also panicked, had hurried off to find her, but they'd missed each other.

While she was an adult now, and her mother was god only knew where, probably dead, she was just as scared as she'd been on that day. It wasn't like she was in a shopping center and gotten separated from Andrea, could call her on the phone, or text her with a quick, "Hey, where are you?" No, this was much different, and much more dangerous. When she'd been a child some pedophile could've snatched her up, taken her off, molested and then killed her, though she hadn't been aware of such dangers at the time. Now she could very well get eaten by a hoard of animated corpses. She'd seen what being bitten, and eaten, was like. She didn't want to die that way; out there in the woods, alone, hot, covered in mosquitos, only to be devoured by the dead.

In her panic Amy couldn't even remember which direction she'd just come. When she finally hazarded a guess she saw that the area was so generic, just trees and dappled sunlight, and little woodland creatures, she may or may not have come in that direction. She felt the waistband of her jeans. Her knife, a good, long hunting knife that their friend Dale had loaned her so she wouldn't be defenseless while she went looking for water, rested on her hip.

She pulled it now, and started forward, cautious, listening to the forest for sounds. Who was she kidding? She didn't have the first clue what to look for. She was about as survival savvy as her battery dead iPhone. That didn't stop her from trying, from straining all her senses to detect danger.

Maybe she should stay still, wait. She'd heard that somewhere. That if you got lost in the woods you should just stay put because wandering off could make it harder for a rescue party to find you. Then again, how many people had followed that advice just to have search and rescue miss them, repeatedly? It wasn't like someone was gonna fly over in a helicopter, looking for her, and she could wave them down, and she didn't trust Shane Walsh not to write her off and abandon her for the 'greater good.' She hated that son of a bitch with a passion, though she was pretty sure her sister was hot in the panties for him.

A sound caught Amy's attention. She held as still as she could but it was hard to hear over the thunder of her pulse and the raggedness of her breathing. Then she saw it. A walker. It meandered along, unaware of her presence. She held still, wondering what kind of senses the things had. Could they smell life? Could they tell the difference between a living person and their own on sight alone?

Apparently they could easily spot a living person because the walker came right at her as soon as it's eyes found her. She looked around, wondering if there were more. She didn't see any, but then she was so scared she doubted she'd notice until they were on top of her.

Okay, I can do this. Shane showed me how.

Where was that bastard when she needed him? Amy lifted her knife as the thing reached for her. She brought it down, hard as she could, into its skull. It was a lot more difficult than it looked to stab something in the head, but the knife went in and the thing dropped...taking her knife with it. The hilt pulled from her hand since the blade stuck.

"Damn it," she cursed. Amy worked the knife free and looked around. There weren't anymore, thank God.

She doubted her group was in the direction the walker had come from. Surely one of them would've killed it. She looked around, wondering which direction she should go, when she saw two more walkers. They looked fresh, too, almost human, like they'd died in the last couple of days, or maybe even that morning. The fresh ones were fast, and strong, and she knew she was dead if she tried to take on two of them alone.

With no other direction to go, Amy moved straight ahead, not going in the direction the walker she'd killed had come from, not heading back, the way she'd just explored. She moved straight ahead and prayed to whatever would listen she found someone.

…

An hour passed when Amy quit running. She heard the sound of water and spotted a creek. She nearly wept with relief. The heat was unbearable and she was dying of thirst, feeling dizzy and weak from lack of water. She filled her jug and then laid down in the water, soaking her clothes, her hair, and then threw caution to the wind to drink. She could go a long time without food but she couldn't go much longer without water.

She spotted a tree that had sturdy branches and climbed into it, praying all the while that she hadn't just filled her belly to the brim with tainted water. She settled down and waited, listening for the sound of either the living or the dead. A few walkers meandered past but after a few hours she heard something else. A voice, speaking.

Someone calling her name.

"Amy?" it said cautiously, almost too quietly for her to hear. Then again, she knew it wouldn't do to go yelling her name in the woods, not with walkers around.

"Here!" she said, a bit too loudly. She toned it down. "Here."

She jumped from the tree and nearly landed on Glenn Rhee.

"Glenn!"

She'd never been so happy to see another person in her life. She threw herself into his arms and then kissed him full on the mouth. He blushed so hard his whole head turned red. She didn't care. She was just glad to see him.

"Everybody's out looking for you," he said, and began rambling in his embarrassment. "Andrea's about to go crazy. It'll be almost dark before we get back to camp. Sure glad I found you. I mean, you know, glad somebody found you. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "I killed a walker. Then I had to run because two more were coming."

"Good job," he said. "I spotted a few myself. We'll have to dodge them. Come on."

She hooked her arm through his and they started back toward camp. No matter how prepared she thought she was for a situation from now on, she vowed she'd never wander away from her sister again.

Lori On Her Own

I'm Lori Grimes.

I'm alone.

Those were the only facts she had as her fuzzy mind struggled to clear, to remember. She was Lori Grimes and she was alone.

The ground beneath her was wet. She was being rained on. She had a terrible, throbbing pain at the back of her head that kept pace and time with her heart. She could feel twigs under her, sharp little things that poked at her skin. Her right foot was bare.

With that inventory completed Lori gave herself time to think, to remember. When the memories hit she panicked and sat up.

"Carl!"

There was no answer. She saw she was alone, in the forest, her right shoe hanging from the lowest branch above her. Dizziness nearly sent her back into unconsciousness. She took a few moments to catch her breath and adjust.

Carl wasn't with her. He was with Shane and the others. That was good. It was she who was alone, not her boy. She stood a chance at surviving and getting back to him.

Very carefully, Lori stood up and pulled her shoe from the tree. She'd had to climb it to escape a group of walkers. She must've fallen asleep from the heat and pure exhaustion.

Once she had her shoe back on she looked at her surroundings. She'd takes off just as dusk had fallen. She lost the light just as she'd settled into the tree for safety, to keep out of reach of the walkers. Lucky for her their night vision was as bad as hers. They lost her trail and she'd stayed put, but nobody had found her yet.

How long was I on the ground?

The idea she could've been on the ground, exposed, for a long time disturbed Lori. She could've been unconscious when a walker, or a group of them, came upon her. She could've awakened to the feel of being eaten alive. The thought made her shudder.

It didn't happen so stop wasting time worrying about what could've been.

Lori saw nothing that could be a trail except the torn up ground from the walkers. Her problem was...which way did she go? There was no way to tell if she should go left or right.

Which way did I climb the tree?

She saw some torn bark where her boots had scraped the tree as she'd struggled to climb. She turned to the trail left by the walkers. That was the way she'd come when they chased her. The walkers had moved on, deeper into the trees.

Feeling wobbly on her legs, and thirsty, Lori started on what she prayed was the path home to her son...and Shane.

Shane. What the fuck was going on with them? What was she doing? Only a week after her husband died, after seeing the military bomb Atlanta, they'd slept together. Lori smiled to herself. She'd never know why people said 'slept' together. Sleeping was the furthest thing from what they'd done.

She hated herself for it. She saw her actions as weak. At the same time she couldn't quite bring herself to regret it. Shane was a lifeline to her. Just being near him had helped her to keep going. He was so eager to share in her feelings. They both loved Rick. They both grieved for him. They missed him. 

They were afraid for their future. Keeping Carl safe was their top priority.

When the hug had turned into something more, a heated kiss that led to fiery passion in the bushes off from that crowded road that night, she could feel he'd been as caught off guard as she had. It had been a moment, a few minutes break from the fear and grief, and the pervading loneliness that threatened to drive them both mad. When it was over they'd both quickly dressed and hurried to be away from another. Confusion and shame was what they'd felt.

Now, Lori would give anything to get back to Shane. He'd take her to her son. They'd get back to the group they were forming. They'd survive, together.

She recognized the bushes. She recognized the little rose bush she passed to go pee. She could smell the stink of open sewage from where others did their business. Discarded tissues littered the area. She hurried along, uncaring what she stepped in, her arms anxious to wrap around her boy...only to find the area deserted.

They'd left her behind.

"No…" She said, unaware she'd spoken.

There were bits of paper, empty cans, and a pair of jeans left hanging up to dry. It was all that was left of their camp.

…

Lori had no choice but to walk. They were in a dead end so she knew they'd have had no choice but to take the road out. Something had happened to force them to flee. There was no way Shane would've taken off without her unless Carl's life would've been in danger had he stayed.

The heat was unbearable. There were clouds in the sky but they stubbornly refused to block the sun and give her a break. Lori had stopped sweating. Her throat was so dry it stuck shut when she swallowed.

She kept an ear out. Her heart would jump in her chest at every sound. She feared the dead. She feared the living, too. People were not animals, they were monsters. They would often do terrible things simply because they could. Animals hunted and killed to survive. Man did it for sport. Animals mated to keep the species going. Man raped for pleasure.

Lori heard a vehicle approach. She immediately rushed to the side of the road, her heart not trusting that the sound if the vehicle was familiar. She looked for it to crest the hill and when she saw Shane behind the wheel she wept and jumped out. She had plenty of room on the side of the road but he still swerved and slammed on the breaks.

"Shane!" she wept.

"Oh, my God!"

"Carl?"

"Safe. He's safe."

He spun her around, squeezed her so tight she could scarcely breathe. He stood there, holding her, and she could almost imagine he was Rick. Almost...but she didn't really want to. They were two different men, and being honest with herself, Shane was a better fit for her. Rick had been like a glove, too small, tight, restrictive, but she'd loved him anyway. Shane...it was like he'd been molded for her.

"Thirsty…"

"Here."

He grabbed a canteen from the back of the jeep. Lori drank until it was empty. She was still thirsty but not nearly as dry. She felt the effects almost at once. Her eyes had felt as though they were drying out. Now they moistened and tears stung at her eyes.

Shane sat her in the passenger seat and blasted the air conditioning. The cold air coming from the vent was such a relief she moaned.

They'd swore it was a one-time thing, making love, but after cooling down, clothes came off. They kissed, moaned, worked their bodies together in a desperate bid to reach climax. They came together, screamed each other's names, collapsed together in a sweating pile of weakened limbs.

"I had to run," Lori said, as they pulled their clothes back on. "Spent the night in a tree. Woke up on the ground, head hurting."

Shane's fingers felt for the lump on the back of Lori's head.

"It's not so bad," he assured her. Shane put the jeep in gear and pulled a u-turn. He'd started back for the new camp. Back to Carl.

"We had to run. Last thing I wanted but there were so many. I...I was scared they'd got you...when you came out of the bushes…"

"It's okay," she said, squeezing his hand. "Thank you for keeping Carl safe."

"I'd die for that kid. For you, too."

She kissed him on the cheek but kept hold of his hand until the jeep returned to camp. She was out before the jeep could fully stop, and it was like a sweet dream holding Carl in her arms, safe and sound. A sweet dream she prayed would never end.

Sweat on Skin

Rick was so shocked by what he was seeing that he had to simply stand there and try to absorb it.


Had he walked by Beth Greene's cell on of his late night strolls (something he'd done literally hundreds of times without incident) heard a sound other than a snore coming from behind the curtain, and looked in to see Daryl Dixon, or hell, even her own brother-in-law Glenn Rhee, ramming his cock into her, he would've been less shocked than by what he witnessed now.


Rick liked to spend some of his evenings walking the cell block to get rid of excess energy before he tried to lay down. He had to, otherwise he'd toss and turn and Judith had a way of picking up on his nervous energy and waking up when he did. So he'd slip Judith into the bunk above Carl's and walk until he was able to think about sleep. Rick knew every cell occupant. He knew who would be up late and who wouldn't. He would hear things from the cells that sometimes glowed with light. The rustle of a book page, the scribble of pen to paper.


He also knew who would most likely be fucking, or beating off, or touching herself, all done as quietly as possible in the dark. Usually there was nothing more than a sigh, or a light moan, or the rhythmic slapping of skin. He could predict when he'd hear what. People had patterns and his training as a cop had long ago taught him how to pick up on such things. Those sounds had yet to, oddly enough, arouse Rick. He always found the sheer normalcy of it comforting. It meant that they were human, alive, and satisfying a very healthy need in the privacy of their safe place. He always kept right on going, too, having no desires to eavesdrop or make anyone self-conscious. He'd just keep strolling, basking in the sounds of the living. That was, ultimately, what soothed him even more than the walking.


Whenever he passed Beth Greene's cell the curtain was almost always closed and there was silence from within. Sometimes he'd hear a cute snore, or a giggle from something she read, or she'd be up late scribbling in her journal or drawing. As Beth aged, as she'd grown into adulthood, he'd begun to hear the breathy sounds of masturbation on occasion. He'd keep walking, no more disturbed by Beth being human than he was anyone else, and he'd absorb the sounds of the living to block out the memory of listening to the dead all day at the fences, where they sought entrance to feed, to destroy the good that they'd worked so hard to build.


So tonight, when Rick Grimes heard an anomalous sound, he did what he normally wouldn't do: he pulled the curtain to Beth's cell back, just a bit, to make sure she was okay. He'd heard a sound, a moan, that had been muffled. He just needed to make certain Beth wasn't in distress, that if she was with someone it was consensual. He hoped she was having a good experience, perhaps masturbating so intensely she had to muffle her own cries out of respect for her neighbors and she wasn't being forced into something she didn't want.


It wasn't a complete shock to see that Beth wasn't alone. She was, after all, a young woman who'd reached a point in her life when she was going to want to explore sex, when she should explore her body with a partner. There was so much bad in this life he wanted to know Beth, sweet, kind Beth, had found someone to explore pleasure with. He just didn't expect to find her exploring it with Carol Peletier.






...






The bunks at the prison didn't allow for a lot of freedom to move but the two of them were making do well enough. It was difficult to see every inch of skin on the two naked women but Rick could see enough, even in the light of the single candle that flickered on Beth's beside table, to make his dick stiffen with lightening speed. He tried to let go of the curtain, to back away, to give the women, his dear friends, their privacy, but he could no sooner move or control himself than a man being electrocuted could control himself, the initial shock was that deep.


Then he began to adjust, his brain told him that what he was seeing was real. Beth Greene was naked. Her hands were flat against the wall while she straddled Carol's face. Her young back was slick with sweat. A tendril of long blond hair that was now free from it's usual ponytail trailed down Beth's back, trapped by the sweat on her creamy, glowing skin. She rocked her hips in fast, short motions, with Carol's tongue lapping at her folds, fast, thirsty. Carol had her legs up, had a dildo in hand, thrusting it into her cunt in fast, hard thrusts, her pussy so wet Rick could easily hear the movements. The sound of wet penetration hit his balls like a lover's caress, making them tighten, making his cock twitch with need.


Beth looked down at Carol, who moaned ever so slightly against Beth's sensitive core.


"Carol...Carol...I'm ready..."


There was so much need and affection in Beth's voice. Carol withdrew the dildo and Rick let the curtain drop. He slipped to the left of the cell entrance and looked to see if anyone was watching him watch Beth and Carol. The coast was clear.


He peered back inside and saw Carol was putting Beth beneath her. He had an idea what was coming next. Carol spread Beth's legs wide before she lowered her own pussy over Beth's. Then she began to move, thrusting her hips the same way any man would, fucking in that position. The smell of aroused pussies drifted from the cell, filing Rick's nostrils and making his dick ache with longing to replace Carol and fill Beth with himself until he felt her dripping walls clench right around him.


Rick watched as Carol stroked her clit against Beth's. The girl had a rather large nub that protruded from the mass of curly blond hair between her legs. He saw Beth struggling to keep it down, saw how her sweat slicked skin glowed in the gold candlelight with her hair a dampened, beautiful mess that clung to her skin. Their pants grew more intense as Carol stroked faster, harder.


"I'm coming!" Beth whispered, her voice beautifully taut with raw desire.


It happened, the most beautiful thing Rick had ever witnessed in real life: two women coming in unison. Their pussies literally erupted with their juices at the same time, both of them amazingly quiet, releasing their orgasm on muted whimpers that were somehow sexier than screams. He could see Beth's pussy contracting with her orgasm as it squirted the last of her load onto Carol's cunt.


Carol leaned forward and claimed Beth's lips in a hard kiss, sucked at her little pink nipples, before collapsing beside her.


Rick slipped away, then, leaving them to enjoy the afterglow and pillow talk, while he sought out a private place to deal with the aching erection in his jeans.

Everything To Me

The sweat on Rick's brow, and on Michonne's, had been hard earned.

She lay back, her clothes askew, her cutoffs hanging off one foot which was thrown over the back of the couch, her shirt open, her breasts exposed and as sweaty as the rest of her, while she held Rick close. She'd not found release, and doubted she was going to this time, because that wasn't what she strove for. No, what Michonne wanted as she held Rick, was simply to let him take what he needed from her.

And he really needed this.

It was dark, now, but light from a full moon filtered through the window. Everyone in the house was asleep upstairs. It was very late, almost one in the morning, so Michonne wasn't worried someone would come down and catch them at it. It was easy to bury her fingers in Rick's hair while she settled into the cushions of the couch and let him take the comfort he needed despite the sticky heat of the balmy night. The front door was open, as were the windows, and a breezy night meant plenty of fresh air to cool their skin, but that would come later.

For now Michonne just stroked Rick's back while he stopped and rested for a moment. He'd been doing that for awhile this evening. He'd move inside her, get almost there, and then stop. He was drawing it out as long as possible and she wasn't going to question his reasons. Right now he simply lay atop her, his heart thundering and his breath coming quick, and she bore his weight. He was probably thinking about the people working construction on the wall who couldn't be saved today, who wouldn’t be going home to family because he, personally, had had to put them down after the walker attack. Or maybe he was thinking about another threat from Negan. No matter what was on his mind, he was on her body, and he needed to forget. He needed to just feel, and she was going to give that to him.

Michonne stroked Rick's hair from his forehead while he lay there, atop her, not moving, but buried as deep inside as her body would allow. His breath was very hot on her breasts, where he rested his head as she rubbed his back. She took a moment to kiss his forehead, imparting as much love and affection as she could in that simple gesture. 

"I love you, Michonne," he whispered. "I love you so much."

"Baby, I love you too," she answered.

God, did she love the man she shared her body, her bed, and her life with. She loved him so much that at times it frightened her. Michonne had thought she'd known love of this magnitude with Mike but she'd been wrong. There was nothing like this in her history. The only greater love she'd ever known was the love of being a mother to her son but that was completely different from this, incomparable, really. She’d give her life for her child at a moments notice, of course, but this was something that consumed her physically, mentally, emotionally, and sometimes it stole her breath away.

Rick pushed forward and a whimper came from him. She adjusted her arms and pulled him close, giving him as much access to her as she could. He withdrew and then slid back in, her fingertips running lightly up and down the length of his muscled arms. He almost torturing her with how gentle he was being. She felt how hard he was, felt his cock throb, felt his balls so swollen and tight she knew he had to almost be in pain with the need to come. When he thrust a few times, slowly, his balls didn't even slap against her. They just lay there, tight and making her feel wetter with increasing need.

She clenched him inside, a very light orgasm, one that was torture on Rick's painfully hardened cock. He made a plaintive sound as she gave in and came around him. It was such an understated physiological response, almost autonomic, but it felt good all the same. Rick's noises were turning her on, renewing her desire. His shallow thrusts teasing her. She slid a hand down his back and it came to rest on his ass, where she gripped and rubbed him.

Suddenly Rick was thrusting, a few fast, hard thrusts that rocked her deeper into the cushions and made his balls slap hard on her ass. She whimpered with him as he stilled inside of her again.

"Rick, it's not your fault."

"This isn't about them, it's about us. I wanna stay inside you as long as possible. I feel like I've finally come home," he breathed.

Rick rested his head once again, enjoyed the feel of her hands on his body, soothing him, comforting him, just as he needed it. He lay atop her, the moonlight on his back, a breeze blowing across both of them, while she continued to stroke his hair. He indulged in suckling her taut nipples on occasion. He indulged in kissing her slowly, deeply, and sometimes he’d brush lips across her brow, flicking his tongue out to taste the sweat on her skin.

This time when Rick buried his face in Michonne's shoulder he began a steady roll of his hips that didn’t stop. She was so wet she was sure the whole house could hear his cock moving in and out of her womanhood. She was so wet she could feel her juices drizzling into the sheet she'd put under her, soaking it as she felt another orgasm cause her to clench around him again. Every time Rick thrust he whimpered, muffling the sound in her ear so that it seemed louder than it was.

The roll of his hips sped up until he was riding her again, as he had when they'd first started earlier that night. He grunted frequently now, and it was the most erotic thing Michonne had ever heard. She looked down, saw his cute, tight little ass bobbing up and down between her thighs and watched his pace increase until he was now straightforwardly fucking her. He'd push in, thrusting hard, going deep, and then he put on a burst of speed, all but crying his pleasure in her ear with an even mix of sounds that seemed to be as much pleasure as pain until it finally happened: He stiffened, his load bursting from him and hotly filling her inside. He wasn’t the only one struggling to keep it down. Michonne managed to reduce her cries to harsh grunts as she held onto him and her toes curled as her knees came up and her thighs clenched tightly around Rick's waist.

"Oh, God…" he cried, trying to muffle the cry of his release into the couch and her shoulder, but she had a feeling that if anyone was sleeping lightly they would have been awakened by his climax. "Michonne…"

"Shhh…" she whispered, knowing it wasn't just about them. She knew he was hurting. She knew he needed her comfort.

He pulled out and sat up, pulled his jeans up, helped her get up to fix her clothes even though she could have done it herself. Every movement, every touch, was done with tenderness and love, as though he was handling something precious and delicate.

It was late and, now that they'd found comfort in sex, they were both ready to find rest in sleep. She rolled up the sheet they’d made love on and carried it with her upstairs. The house was silent and their bed was soft and welcoming, and cool, with the windows open to allow the breezy air to blow through.

Rick put his arms around Michonne as soon as he was behind her. He spooned her and held her and let his eyes drift shut.

"You're everything to me," he said.

She gripped his hand, kissed it, and listened to his breathing quickly even out in sleep.

He was everything to her, too.

What the Shadows Hide

What the shadows hide are the secrets of the mind and the body. What the shadows protect are the things that would otherwise die in the light.

That's why, Rick thought, watching some of the young ones run and play around the old basketball court as they prepared for the harvest, people waited until the night, usually, to do their wrongs, to perpetrate crimes. It wasn't just a matter of being more difficult to see. It was easier to act when you thought you couldn't be seen.

It was dawn that brought quiet and a sense of safety, even if that sense was false. It was dawn that made even the bad feel safe. It was the light of day that bred feelings of guilt for the deeds done in the dark. For a while, at least. Then there inevitably came a time when certain sins didn't need inky shadows to cover those who committed them because their consciences had become inured to whatever sin they sought to cover.

There was no intention, on Rick's part, of making the same mistake twice when he prepared for a night of guard duty. Then again mistakes weren't made twice. The second time was a choice, so when he saw Maggie leaving the tower and he stopped in front of her, he wanted to reach out, to make the wrong choice to pull her against him. When she looked at him, saw the lust in his eyes, she shook her head and he knew she was determined to make the right choice because she loved her husband. He respected that despite the disappointment in is gut.

"I can't stop thinking about it," he confessed softly.

She looked down, then back up, her gaze meeting his. She wanted him again. A man knew, Rick knew, especially when she leaned close enough for her hardened nipples to graze against him.

"No," she said. "I'm sorry, Rick. Once is forgivable. It's a mistake and we can overcome it. More than that and it's…it's just wrong. I can't do that to Glenn. I've had time to think about it and I love him too much to risk it. Tell me you could look him in the eye if he found out."

Rick wanted to open his mouth. He'd say anything for Maggie to let him touch her, lay with her skin to skin, be inside of her where he was as close to heaven as he imagined a killer like him was ever gonna get. He didn't, though. He kept his mouth shut and nodded, going along with her because she was right, and he didn't want bad blood between them.

So he let her leave without another word, determined he'd never broach the subject again, determined to treat what happened between them as nothing more than a vivid dream. It hadn't actually happened. Never would happen.

He'd stand guard because he just wanted to help out, feel like he was doing his part. No matter how many hours of back breaking hours he put into his crops Rick still felt like he needed to keep the prison safe. So he did what he could by standing guard like a protective father.

At ten o'clock darkness had fallen a couple of hours previously. Maggie walked away and he used his flashlight to navigate to the inside of the tower since it was black as pitch outside and inside. The good thing about that was how if any living attackers wanted to make a move on the prison they'd surely have to use some kind of light to see well enough to make their way up. He wouldn't use a light to make himself a target so he knew he'd have four hours of peaceful solitude to listen to the wind rustle the trees.

Rick decided he'd think about Maggie Greene while he beat off. He'd remember the feel of her legs around him, the smell of her pussy, the feel of moving inside of her. He'd remember her taste, the sounds she made, the heat of her skin, and it would just have to suffice.

Sometimes, like now after running into her and hearing Glenn's name, shame wasn't an adequate word to describe what he felt but it was the only one that came to mind. Still, it wasn't enough to stop the lust he felt. It wasn't enough to keep him from feeling the beginning of yet another bothersome erection. He needed to forget Maggie Greene and get his own woman. So he kept telling himself.

"What are you doing here?" came the voice from the inside of the tower.

The last person he expected was Michonne. She was in the tower, sitting with her legs stretched before her. A single candle filled the room with weak golden light, it's flame protected from gusty winds by glass.

"I could ask you the same," he replied, shutting the trap behind him. He took a seat and dusted off his hands, and gazed at her.

"I took a full night shift," Michonne said.

He nodded and leaned his head back and wondered if Michonne had heard any of his talk with Maggie. Judging by her face she probably hadn't, since they'd spoken in soft voices. "You're free to go. Rest of the night off."

"To do what?"

Rick shrugged. "Read a book. Make plans to search Blake out. Sleep."

"I'm a night owl."

"So I've noticed," Rick answered.

"I sleep because I have to. I haven't been sleepy at night since the turn started."

Michonne seemed to never sleep and Rick didn't know how she did it. She took shifts in the tower, almost always at night. He'd sometimes see her wandering the grounds like a ghost in search of something important that she'd lost. Then she'd be up all day, moving about, still that same searching ghost. It was exhausting for Rick to think about.

"You ever sleep?" he asked.

"Not really."

He opened his mouth to ask another question. She held up a hand. "Please."

"We've gotten closer since Andrea died," he reminded her. "You gonna start shutting me out now?"

"Because you're such a talker?"

Her eyebrows raised, one cocked slightly higher than the other, mocking in a harmless, amused way. Michonne had a way of taking the sting out of anything, at least when she wanted.

"I can share," he said.

"Okay. Share," she challenged.

"You first."

"I shared last time we talked. I shared how I killed a kid out on the road last month."

Rick nodded. "He was trying to kill you. You didn't have a choice."

"He was thirteen and scared."

"He was a threat and you couldn't avoid it. You'd be dead right now if you hadn't taken him out. I'd rather you kill than be killed."

Maybe he sounded too harsh in his response. Maybe he spoke with too much passion but it was the truth. He'd see her kill an eight-year-old before he saw her let anybody do her harm. Hell…he'd kill an eight-year-old if it meant saving her. There was no better warrior than Michonne. She was also more than that. She wasn't just a sword she was a friend. She was a woman.

She was one of them.

"Share. Your turn."

"I fucked another man's woman."

Now that he'd said it he felt like someone had lifted a couple of tons of weight from his shoulders. Normally he could let things like that go. Not this time. Not when it was Glenn and Maggie. Rick wasn't sure what kind of a response he expected from Michonne but it wasn't a roll of the eyes.

"What?" he challenged.

"I murder a child and you share that you boned some dude's girlfriend?"

Rick knew he couldn't very well say wife because Glenn was the only married man there and that would be as good as saying he'd been with Maggie. He didn't ever want it to get out, even if just to Michonne, who he'd been with. He didn't doubt Michonne would keep it secret but he wanted nobody, not even her, to know exactly who he'd been with.

"Hang on. I'll go kill Lizzie Samuels and we'll be even," he joked. Only Michonne didn't smile. Not this time. "I'm sorry," he said. "Shitty joke."

She nodded once in agreement. "I get it, though, what you're saying. You feeling guilty?"

"I did, at first. Enough time's passed that I don't feel as guilty now. Not really. I just…"

"Let's cut the shit. I heard your talk with Maggie," Michonne said, watching Rick's eyes widen. "I won't say anything."

"I didn't think you would," he said honestly. "What you must think of me now, of her."

She shook her head. "I think we're all doing the best people can under the worst circumstances imaginable. I sometimes like to think about our lives and wonder how we'd judge ourselves, the things we do, if we were all fictional characters in a book, or on a TV show."

"And?"

Michonne closed her eyes. "I'd like to think I'd always make the right choices. I'd like to think I'd live by the ways of what was Before, keep my morality in line with the life from Before. I think that every time I do something I know I wouldn't have done if walkers didn't exist and the world hadn't ended."

"Letting me off the hook for stabbing a friend in the back is nice but it's wrong."

"I'd probably fuck Glenn if the opportunity arose. He's handsome, young, and I'm lonely," she said. "I like Maggie but I'd be tempted to betray her just to feel something nice. What's that say about me?"

Rick couldn't exactly call her a shitty human being considering she was saying what she would do, and considering he'd actually done it.

"I think it makes you sound human. Flawed."

"You'd fuck her again," Michonne said.

"If she'd let me? Probably."

"Was it good?"

The question was stated in such a nonchalant way but Rick sensed a kind of greedy lust behind the words and now, for the first time, he was starting to wonder just where her line of questioning was going to go, what territory they'd wander into.

"You want the dirty details?" he asked on a grin.

She lifted a shoulder and looked at him. "If you wanna share," she said.

Rick swallowed and felt a stirring in his dick just thinking about Maggie with her young perky titties and soft skin. Michonne had perky titties too. He was willing to bet her skin was also soft. She was a woman, after all. She wasn't covered in coarse hair and the kind of skin that grew it and weathered and leathery from the sun. Michonne was a few years younger than him. She was youthful and beautiful. She was very much a sexual being, same as him. She was also single. Same as him.

"Well," he said, feeling his mouth dry a little. "It started out as just us sharing a drink."

"That moonshine Daryl brought back, I'll bet," Michonne said.

Rick nodded.

"I have a thermos of tea. Not the same as moonshine but it's wet," Michonne said.

"Wet…"

His eyes slid between her legs of their own accord. Michonne smiled and gazed at him with hooded eyes as she reached for her bag, knowing exactly where he was looking.

"You were drinking," she prompted, when he seemed more interested in staring at her crotch than actually talking to her.

"Uh…how graphic you want this to get?"

"Very. Something for me to think about next time I slip into bed," she told him.

Rick felt his mouth go dry. He sipped the tea, tried to play it cool, to pretend he wasn't affected by her words, that he wasn't imagining Michonne's beautiful brown skin beading with sweat as she lay in bed and pushed her hand between her legs and worked herself to orgasm in the privacy of her bunk.

"Unless you're uncomfortable," she said, watching him like she always was: very closely.

"No, not at all. We were drinking, talking about our lives, and she leaned her head on my shoulder. Then she started kissing me, on the cheek at first, then on the corner of my mouth. Next thing I knew…"

"You were kissing her back. You tongued her?"

Rick nodded, licked his lips. His mouth was moistening nicely now. "I tongued her, yeah. You know, this is like phone sex without the phone."

Michonne laughed and suddenly the whole thing felt silly. Silly was good. So was laughing. It was something she almost never did anymore. Now that she was here, in the dimly lit guard tower on a dark and windy night, with a man who'd become a good friend to her, she felt kind of stupid talking about his brief moment of weakness with a married woman at the end of the world.

"I can't get over how much I wanted to devour her," he said, the smile fading from his lips as he remembered that night. "How good she tasted with moonshine and cigarettes on her breath. The taste of a woman…God, there's nothing like it. Pussy is like a drug. Once you experience it there's no going back, ever."

He took another sip and set the thermos lid that acted as a cup down beside him. He allowed his eyes to focus on Michonne, on her chest. It was a cool night but it wasn't really cold. Still, her nipples poked at her shirt.

"You're not wearing a bra," he observed.

"You can tell?"

"A man can always tell." He couldn't help but bite his lower lip. He imagined taking the time to tweak those hardened buds between his fingers, then between his lips. To lick them, taste her skin, the salt left behind by a day of sweating in the sun.

"We didn't want to do wrong but by then we were so worked up. She came to me and we started yanking our clothes off and kissing and I put her down on these old mattresses on the floor of the office. Maggie…she wanted me in her mouth."

He saw movement. His eyes were out of focus, remembering that night, but now they focused on Michonne.

She was unzipping her jeans and sliding her hand down her panties.

"Fuck," Rick breathed, when he saw Michonne's bold and unexpected move. She'd just advanced the whole situation into territory they couldn't come back from without some touch happening between them.

"Don't stop. Keep talking."

This wasn't phone sex without the phone, not anymore, Rick knew. This was about to get very real in just a matter of seconds, because there was no way he was gonna watch Michonne's hand moving in her jeans and not get in on that action.

"Talk is cheap," Rick said. "It's time for me to show you."

Michonne smiled. "You wanna put your dick where my mouth is?"

She was only half joking. Truth was she wanted his dick. She wanted it in her mouth, in her hand, in her pussy. She'd spent more time than she should undressing Rick Grimes with her eyes. When she'd pass him while he tended his crop, in the corridors, to and from guard duty. She'd think of him, how he'd taste, how he'd feel, on those warm nights when he'd sit close and they'd waste time talking, managing to talk about literally everything in the human experience without using many words.

It was like that with them, how they could communicate so much in simple glances, or a few words. They could read one another like they'd known each other since the moment of her birth. Now, here they were, taking action, doing more talking than they ever had. They could go half an hour without a word and be comfortable with that. Not tonight. Tonight they'd talked one another into giving in to basic lust.

"I wanna put my dick in a lot of places," he said gruffly, getting to his knees while her fingers increased their pace on her clit. She moaned and that elicited a single lust-choked word from Rick: "Fuck."

"Do it," she said.

…

"I fucked her mouth," Rick said, "like this."

He was pushing Michonne's braids from her face. He wanted to look down, see that sumptuous mouth of hers wrapped around is dick. She opened wide for him, took him in, and relaxed her throat so he could slide in deep, almost to his balls, before she gagged ever so slightly. He felt her tongue on the sensitive underside of his dick, felt her cup him, draw back as he pulled out. She didn't just take it, she was a very active participant, her jaws stretched wide to keep her teeth from grazing him. She was all moist, soft tongue and wet lips.

"Michonne, fuck," he grunted. His hips were hard to control, they wanted to thrust, on instinct.

She started moaning, deep from within, her eyes gazing up at him, smoky with lust. The vibrations were almost enough to make him come down her throat right then and there. He pulled out while she gagged at the sudden movement. She needed to catch her breath, so did he. He enjoyed a moment of toying with her, stroking the head of his dick around her lips before she licked them and then flicked her tongue over the head.

A grunt escaped Rick when Michonne sucked the head between her lips. "Oh, Michonne, fuck yeah…"

She was giving him head, eagerly sucking, licking, sucking some more. He had to pull back. His balls were so tight he was seconds from losing it. Rick backed off, gripped her jeans and pulled them down to her knees. It was too chilly to undress her, too windy, but he'd find a way to keep her warm.

"Let me see them," he said.

Michonne knew exactly what he was talking about. She lifted her shirt, exposing her tits, her nipples hard as pebbles that tingled in need of attention, which Rick was all too happy to supply. There was a very light taste of salt on her skin, but it was soon gone, and the smell of sweat on her warm skin was quickly replaced with the musky scent of her arousal.

"Your pussy smells so good," he whispered. He trailed kisses from her neck, lower, and she allowed her legs to straighten out before her. "I'll bet it tastes better."

It had been a long time since a man had said such filth to her. It was as arousing as the feel of his lips, and the brush of his beard, against the skin of her quivering belly. She gripped his hair and didn't resist when he pulled her flat from her sitting position and turned her legs to the side. She still had her jeans on, constricting the movement of her legs, like cuffs would if she'd been shackled. He simply pushed one leg up, exposing her glistening folds. He sighed, looking almost drunk with lust, before he licked her clean of every drop of honey. She was moist again soon enough, though, when his tongue found her clit.

Michonne had a feeling they were done with talk about Maggie. He was diverging from that experience into new territory with her. This would be their own unique experience, especially when Rick worked his head between her thighs and reached for her tits to thumb her nipples. She looked down, feeling pressure building in her core. He was going to get her off with his tongue alone.

"Rick," she moaned, lying on her side, her leg up, her friend's head between her leg, licking her clit and toying with her tits. It was surreal but it felt so goddamned good. "Fuck me," she sighed. "I want you inside me."

God, did she ever want him inside. As much as Rick wanted to be there. He needed to be surrounded by her giving flesh but he didn't want to leave his place between her thighs. He took a few last laps, took a little more of her juices, and hoped she'd let him return at a later date. For now, he lay behind her, pulled her to him, and kissed her, long and deep, while that firm, round ass of hers ground eagerly, desperately against him.

"Wait," he said, speaking low in her ear, holding her, putting his arms around her and lifting her shirt.

"For what?"

"I just want a minute. I don't wanna rush it. I wanna enjoy this. Enjoy you. So hold still."

Michonne wanted to turn and look at him. She didn't turn. She didn't look at him. She just held still, her body screaming for penetration, friction. She felt him settle, felt him push inside her, but he didn't move. He sighed and pulled her close, filling her, breathing in her scent, nuzzling her. What had started off as a fuck was turning into something Michonne hadn't counted on.

"Rick, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said. "I just want to enjoy this."

It wasn't easy to simply be inside her, holding still. It wasn't easy to feel her wet, warm body wrapped around him. He wanted to move. He wanted to thrust, pump, fucking pound her into the floor until he had her coming and screaming his name, and he would. He'd move, he'd fuck her, once he had complete control of himself and he'd taken a few minutes to just lie in heaven.

That's what was for Rick, too. Absolute heaven. It was paradise, lying behind her, feeling her tits in one hand, looking at the flare of her hip under the other. He looked at how her ass, her absolutely sublime ass, nestled against him. He slipped his hand around and between her legs, finding her clit buried in that wild snatch between her thighs. He used to hate it when Lori didn't keep herself trimmed. Now he couldn’t think of anything more beautiful than a natural woman, wild snatch and all.

"Let me kiss you."

She turned to face him as much as she could, offering her lips for the kiss Rick wanted so much. Somehow this had gone from screwing to making love. There was no other way around it. He was making love to her. He was being tender and sweet, slipping his tongue into her mouth where she could taste herself on him. When that taste was gone there was only Rick, kissing her softly, gently, before he pulled away and looked her in the eye, cupping her chin in his hand.

Then he moved, pulling easily from her slick heat to push back in. It was the most erotic moment she'd probably ever had in her life. This friend, this man she cared for more than she wanted to, holding her, kissing her, recuperating from the passion that had flared up between them so quickly, before, so he could enjoy being close to her, inside her, so he could get her off before he got off himself. That kind of care, that kind of desire for her to have as much pleasure as he did, made every thrust feel ten times better than it would have been if she was just lying there and getting fucked on a spur of the moment indulgence in sex between buddies.

When Michonne's orgasm came it was the most spectacular of her life. It hit her not with sudden impact but in a slow loosening of the pressure in her core as she came, and her pussy clenched him in an almost lazy way. It was deep inside, that orgasm, the most pleasurable sensation she'd ever known, until each wave of languid pleasure faded to flutters of aftershocks. A single sigh escaped from her lips as Rick thrust deep and emptied himself as deep inside her as he could on a loud moan that came as much from his soul as it did from his lips.

…

They didn't have a lot of use for words. They never had. Now dressed and sipping tea, Rick and Michonne sat across from one another in the tower, visible to each other's gaze in the soft golden light of the candle that Michonne had brought.

"What is Maggie to you?" Michonne asked.

"She's just a friend."

Michonne nodded. "Am I the same kind of friend?"

Rick's lips cocked in a smile. "Michonne, there's nobody like you."

She kicked his foot. She couldn't get their exchange out of her mind. More importantly she was still waiting on the panic to hit, but somehow she didn't think it would, and that baffled her.

"This a one-time thing?" he asked.

"Doesn't have to be," she said.

She offered him the thermos. He held up his cup and accepted a bit more to drink.

"I don't want it to be a one-time thing."

"Then it's not."

She took a sip of her tea and looked out into the night and felt her eyes grow heavy. "Wow. I'm sleepy at night for the first time in a long time."

"Then let's break the rules and go to sleep," he said. "Something tells me we'll be okay."

Rick motioned for her to come to him. She moved over, nestled herself between his legs, leaned against his chest, and he threw his jacket over them, feeling her take his hands into hers. He would take watch until it was time for someone to relieve them in the morning. Until then he remained up, enjoying the rightness of holding Michonne in his arms.

He'd told himself he needed to get his own woman. Now he had.