Quietly

The house the group had found had a sturdy, cast iron fence that apparently had never been breached by walkers. Possibly not even by people. The grass was insanely high, having grown over the past year unhindered by the presence of people. Michonne’s skin itched sweat poured from her skin and slowly dried. The bugs didn’t help, of course. The mosquitos were having a field day, eating everyone alive. Sasha sighed in misery and let her head fall. Tyreese picked up a piece of cardboard from the ground and began fanning Judith, whom Carl cradled in his arms. The baby heaved a grateful sigh before lying her head on her brother’s chest and nodding off, while Sasha enjoyed the air that moved past the kids, to her.

“Stay over there,” Daryl said, on the other side of the fence, holding up a scythe. “Lotta snakes in this high grass.”

Michonne leaned against the mailbox and waited for him to make quick work cutting the grass away in a narrow path with the scythe. Once he was sure it was safe for Carl and Judith to cross, he nodded. He was right. Several snakes slithered through the grass. One was a rattler that Daryl beheaded and held up, promising a nice dinner since the snake was a big one. Michonne didn’t even think of turning her nose up at the idea of eating snake. It wasn’t half bad, especially if you’d already gone four days without anything more than a couple of bites of canned vegetables a day.

The steady buzz of insects filled the air, along with the sound of dry grass crunching underfoot, as they all trampled Daryl’s hastily made path to the house, with him and Rick leading the way. Abraham cursed when a couple of more snakes slithered, quickly and frightfully, over his boots. He offered Rosita a ride on his back. She threatened to literally bust his balls if he kept treating her like a lady. They’d be fucking later that night, after the kids had gone to sleep, Michonne was sure of it.

How he got the strength to swing a scythe, Michonne didn’t know, but Daryl insisted on clearing a path to the well in the back yard, from the back door. Michonne told Carl to take a seat on the front porch as she drew her katana and headed inside to clear any walkers that may have been inside. There were. A man, a woman, a teenage girl, and a little girl no older than five when she’d died, locked up in a bedroom. The family falls under her katana and Rick’s machete. He takes out the little girl first, sparing her the gruesome task. His eyes are empty as he kills them. They're always empty, lately. Tyreese offers to find a shovel to dig graves but Rick wants him to hold off. They need rest first.

An inspection of the back yard reveals that it won’t need Daryl’s scythe. Someone had been tending a garden here. The backyard is clear. The man who’d cultivated it, however, wasn’t a threat. He sat on the back porch, a gun on the floorboards beside him. A note left behind saying two simple words: No more. The body couldn’t have been more than a day old. Smelling in the heat, yes, but fairly fresh. Tyreese and Abraham lift him and carry him to the outer edges of the backyard and leave him there.

Tomatoes, potatoes, onions, garlic, peppers, squash, cucumbers, lettuce are in the garden, but most of it has been picked. There’s enough for a couple big pots of stew to feed the group. They’re grateful for it. A lemon tree at the back of the property has fruit to yield. They pick the veggies, enough to make a stew. Sasha laughs with delight when she sees a healthy stash of salt and sugar in the kitchen. Michonne tests the pipes out in the house. Dead. The women insist on pumping water for washing off in. Rick insists they stay for a few days to recoup. Nobody argues.

It doesn’t take much to fill up their bellies. Glenn offers to take first watch, Carl offers to join him. Michonne lies down in one of the two remaining bedrooms that hadn’t housed the dead family, and didn’t reek of rotting flesh. There’s no bed in either room. Only the floor, which she makes a little more comfortable by piling blankets on. It’s hot at night, stuffy, but the open windows allow for a cool breeze, and temperatures drop nicely when a rainstorm moves in.

She thinks she’ll get to sleep quietly with Carol and Sasha on their own pallets but she doesn’t. She’s in the bathroom when the door opens and he comes in. The candle that’s lit barely provides enough light to see by, so she’s not certain exactly who came in until she looks into the mirror and finds Daryl there. Once on a road trip, looking for the Governor, they’d gotten a little tipsy off moonshine and fucked like wild animals in the dark. They never spoke of it again. Pretended it hadn’t happened.

That’s what’s on her mind when Daryl hands her a cup of warm lemonade that Sasha had made earlier. It’s sweet but also tart. She downs half in one gulp, wishing they had a way to make ice. The drink is cool, though. Cooler than she’d expected. She offers the rest to Daryl, who downs it as greedily as she had. She whispers a thank you for the drink. Then, of their own accord, without much conscious thought from Michonne, her hands have fisted his vest and pulled him into a kiss. He tastes of lemonade and cigarettes.

Sex on the road is expected among some members. Sasha and Bob had, before he’d died. Abraham and Rosita made no bones about it, going out together to relieve some stress, as did Maggie and Glenn. Michonne didn’t think about it anymore. She just got on with life. Except tonight. A kind, innocent gesture, and opportunity, now led to her ramming her tongue into Daryl Dixon’s mouth, in a darkened bathroom, in an abandoned house, in a dead town she didn’t even know the name of. Unlike their one night together, he wasn’t hesitant or awkward. He didn’t look at her in the light of the fire with doubt in his eyes as to whether it was right or wrong, or what it meant for their friendship. It was just a thing to do, and it relieved stress like nothing else did.

Belts were necessary to hold up pants that were always a little too big, for both of them. The belts clink as they’re undone, zippers make their little rough sounds as they’re yanked down, but they’re quiet otherwise. Daryl helps Michonne to the floor, she pulls one leg from her pants and he shoves his down just enough. She rubs over his erection, feels him twitch in her hand as he continues to tongue her. Their breath is harsh, stifling moans that want to escape them both, especially when she feels the wetness at the head of his dick. Then he’s in her wetness moments later, as she guides him to her entrance, and he wastes no time thrusting into her.

The tiniest squeak escapes Michonne at the invasion of his body into hers. A light ahhhhh sighs past Daryl’s lips as he enters her, and immediately begins to move. There can be no grunting, regardless of how good it feels to make that connection with another person. Michonne pulls her knees up, feels the soft hair on Daryl’s stomach move against her as he thrusts. She has to put one hand above her, since every thrust from Daryl scoots her further toward the bathtub. The house is silent, with only the rain to offer meager cover over their union. She prays nobody can hear them, not with the door shut, but there are two women sleeping on the other side, in the bedroom.


Please don’t let them knock, or come in …

Daryl’s hand grips her ass as he begins driving into her, a breath huffing out hard from both of them as he fucks her, hard, on the bathroom floor. She’s so fucking wet the sound of his cock moving inside her simply can’t be masked. She plants her feet on the floor, urges him to turn over. He sits up, she straddles him, puts one hand on his leg, behind her, and wraps the other around the back of his neck and begins to ride him. She’s covered in sweat as she moves her hips, hard, fast, and he plants his feet and hands to thrust up and into her.

Fuck ...she sighs, her fingernails digging into the back of his neck. She doubts he can feel it right now. Not with how close he is to coming. Harder and harder he rides him, until that tension inside of her bursts, and the world explodes like a rainbow behind her eyes which are squeezed shut. The orgasm is powerful, pulsing through her like the beat of a drum. She feels Daryl come, feels him fill her inside, hot and thick, and his only sound of climax is a deep sigh.

The whole thing didn’t last but a few minutes but it was intense. She gets up, takes a moment to pee into the toilet, wipe away as much of him as she can, knowing they’ve been reckless, but also too high on endorphins to care. Maybe she’ll panic tomorrow at the idea of an unneeded pregnancy. Daryl watches her pee, his dick going soft in his lap, his head thrown back against the wall, as though he fell asleep right there. He hasn’t. He lights up a cigarette, and goes to pee after Michonne gets up.

Thanks for the lemonade.

She leaves him to finish his cigarette. She fixes her clothes, goes into the bedroom. If Carol and Sasha are awake, they’re doing a good job faking their sleep. Daryl makes no noise as he walks past her, leaving the room, leaving her, like nothing had happened. The storm rages outside, and Michonne drifts off to a deep, dreamless sleep. Quietly.