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.