Daryl and Michonne

Daryl thrust hard but his movements lacked haste. He slammed into Michonne, making her moan, before sliding slowly, deliberately, out.

"Your pussy is so fucking wet," he moaned.

Once again he thrust inside, hard, feeling her quiver.

"Please...faster..." she said pleadingly.

Daryl ran a hand slowly up the smooth plane of her back. Her skin was slicked with sweat and unmarred by a single scar or imperfection.

"Turn over," he said.

Michonne turned on the mattress to face him. Daryl slicked his fingers over her breasts, taking in the sight of her, gloriously naked beneath him. His thumb found the hard nub of her clit and rubbed. He began to move again, watching her eyes close from the intensity of the pleasure coursing through her core. He kept up a relentless assault on her clit as he thrust, harder, faster.

He came first, taking pleasure in his release. When he opened his eyes Michonne was staring at the ceiling, biting her lower lip, clearly disappointed.

A smile came to his lips before he trailed kisses down her tummy. He took her swollen clit into his mouth and began to suckle. He slipped two fingers inside and found that fabled spot that drove a woman crazy and massaged it with just enough force to begin to drive her wild again. Michonne gripped Daryl’s hair until she came, her entire body shivering as ripples of pleasure coursed from her core and radiated out.

“Thought I’d leave you hangin?” Daryl asked, after they caught their breath.

“It wouldn’t be the first time a man’s done that to me.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said, and lit a cigarette.

“That’s a disgusting habit.”

“It’s great after sex,” he informed her.

“You don’t think this is going to fuck up our friendship?”

He shrugged. “Not on my end.”

She chuckled and looked up at the ceiling of the old office they’d been assigned for their tryst by the Matchmaker.

“I wonder who’s behind it,” she finally said.

“I don’t know. Don’t wanna know.”

“Why?”

Daryl got up and began pulling on his clothes. “As soon as we know it’ll be over.”

“How long has it been going on?” she asked, while she zipped her pants and reached for her bra.

“At least three weeks. You’re my third hookup.”

“You’re my second.”

“We ain’t supposed to talk about it.”

“Not out there. We can talk about what we want in here.”

He nodded before grinding his cigarette out on the floor. “Out there,” he said, nodding at the door. “This gonna happen again?”

“With us?”

He nodded.

“Depends,” she said, going to the door with a coy smile.

“On what?”

“If you got what it takes to seduce me without the Matchmaker.”

She winked and left the room, leaving Daryl with a rare smile on his lips. He lit up another cigarette and then walked out. There was a shadow at the corner of the hall that didn’t belong to Michonne. Daryl considered chasing after the owner of that shadow, wondering if it was someone who’d simply listened in, or if it was the Matchmaker. In the end he decided to turn and walk away.

He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want the hookups to end.


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