17 April 2018

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.

21 March 2018

What the Light Revealed

If only I could jump in a car and drive somewhere else.

Maggie Greene walked, alone, and allowed herself to fantasize about getting away. Frustrated. That word didn’t begin to cover all the things Maggie felt, but it was the only word her too-tired brain could come up with, until she took in a few deep breaths and exhaled through her pursed lips in an effort to calm herself. Other words floated to her mind. Angry. Hurt.

The Governor had made her expose herself to him, not Glenn. The Governor had bent her over a table and pressed himself against her, filling her with disgust at the feel of his cock pressing against her. She was the one who’d been threatened with rape. She’d been the one humiliated, terrorized, and had to listen to someone she loved get tortured, not Glenn. Yet somehow he’d managed to make everything about his pain.

Sure, his feelings were understandable. He’d suffered, too, and it couldn’t have been easy to know what the Governor had done to her and been helpless to help her overcome it. Still, Glenn making so much of it about him, rather than just being there for her, had hurt. Despite kissing and making up, and sending the Governor and his people running, there was a lingering resentment that she hadn’t quite dealt with, especially when Glenn would make a comment, unknowingly, about having to keep an eye out for her with the new people coming in from Woodbury. She was his wife, his equal, not a child he needed to care for.

Between the new people, and the near nightly arguments, Maggie just wished she could get away. Getting away was a good fantasy; nothing that could actually happen, but a good fantasy all the same. She was stuck here. She couldn’t run back to the farm, because there was no farm to run back to. She was trapped behind these fences. How ironic that she’d never committed a crime, yet God, the universe, fate, or just the shit luck of the apocalypse, had given her a life sentence in prison. Still, it was life. It was precious, limited life.

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she literally tripped over Rick Grimes and barely caught herself before falling face first to the ground.

“You okay?”

Rick was sitting up, eyes wide, and hands outstretched in an offer of help to get to her feet.

“Yeah,” she said, her face reddening. It wasn’t as though Rick could see her blush, though, not in the weak light of a day fading prematurely under heavy cloud cover.

Storm clouds made steady progress across the sky. Thunder rolled along in the wake of flashes of the distant lightning that heralded the arrival of a storm. Rick was sitting on the small concrete entrance of a doorway that had been fitted with a small awning, holding a mason jar of water in his hand.

“It’s moonshine,” Rick explained, holding the jar up. “Daryl brought a whole crate back. Care for a sip?”

Maggie took the proffered jar and sniffed the contents. It didn’t have much of an odor outside of a fruity scent, and considering Rick didn’t look sick from having drank it, she took a tentative sip. It didn’t have the harsh taste she’d expected at all. In fact, it was so smooth, and had such little burn, she could take down a substantial drink without much of a wince.

“Careful,” Rick cautioned, smiling. “It packs a punch.”

“So I’ve heard.”

What Maggie needed more than alcohol was the company of a good friend, so she took a seat next to Rick. She'd let herself enjoy a drink under the awning to the admin building entrance and watch the rain until the very last of the light vanished. Then it would be too dark to see and they'd have to rely on the old lantern with the tall candle inside to provide light since it would be pitch black.

“What’s got you upset?” Rick asked.

Maggie snorted and accepted the jar a second time, this time only taking a dainty sip before passing it back. She considered the question, and Rick let her without rushing her to answer.

“I’d like to be able to get away,” she finally said.

“Where’d you go if you could?”

Maggie shrugged and handed the jar back.

“I’d find a motel, I think,” she said, leaning her head against the door as the first fat drops of rain began to spatter around the meager shelter of the awning. “I’d spend a couple of days watching trash TV and eating pizza and burgers in the room.”

“Sounds good,” said Rick. “God, I’d do anything for a bacon cheeseburger.”

“Mmm,” Maggie agreed, feeling the moonshine begin to take effect, relaxing her. Rick set the jar aside, somehow sensing they’d had enough, at least for now. “I’ll bet there’s not a cow left alive on earth.”

“God, no,” Rick agreed. “They didn’t have the instincts to fight off, or even run, from something like a walker. Hell, they’d stand still and let you push them right over.”

“That’s mean,” Maggie said.

A second later they burst into laughter. Maggie enjoyed the feel of a genuine laugh bubbling up from somewhere inside. Somewhere good. She hadn’t even known, not really, she was even capable of laughing like that anymore.

“I used to feel like that when I felt trapped,” Rick confessed. “Lori and I would fight, and I’d hop in my truck and drive. Sometimes I’d go to a pub and just relax, have a few beers, and watch a game.”

“Now we’re stuck here,” said Maggie.

“We’re safe, though,” he pointed out. “We’re alive.”

A frustrated sigh escaped her.

“That’s not always enough, Rick. Being alive for what? To struggle, to starve, to know that regardless of how good things look, the likelihood you’ll die before the sun can set is pretty damn high?”

She huffed out a breath and closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Rick answered by squeezing her hand. When she looked at him, there was no anger in response. There was just kindness, there, in his blue eyes, and in his soft smile.

“I’d kill for a cigarette right now,” she said.

“You smoked?” he asked, lifting his brows.

“I quit three years ago,” Maggie said, nodding. “They got pricy, and I knew they weren’t good for me. Still, I liked to smoke when I’d go out to drink, which wasn’t often.”

“Hang on,” Rick said. “Gotta go inside.”

She sat outside and listened to him take a piss in a bucket, and tried to not laugh. Moonshine really did have a way of numbing the pain so you could remember what joy felt like. It amazed her now how something so simple as feeling good, simple pleasure, could be absent from a life for so long without being missed until something made you smile, or laugh.

She listened as Rick rummaged through something. A moment later he came out with a pack of Marlboro cigarettes in hand. He used the lighter to light it for her and took a drag himself. He passed it to her and she sucked down a toke. It was like riding a bike. She remembered how to do it and while it was harsh it was also good. The nicotine hit her system in a full body rush that made her heart pound. For a moment she felt like she had put on fifty pounds of weight but at the same time her head felt light.

“Daryl’s little stash,” said Rick. “Don’t tell him I’m the one who messed with it.”

“Our secret,” she said, taking another drag. “You hit that like an old pro. I didn’t know you smoked, either.”

“Like you, when I’d drink,” said Rick.

He took another sip, and offered her the jar.

“We shouldn't have too much,” she said. “Something could happen with the walkers at the fences. We'd need clear minds.”

“I’m not sure I care, tonight,” said Rick. “I think I’d be willing to let everybody else defend me, for once.”

Maggie considered that. She wondered what would make her drinking companion, always so mindful of taking care of others, dutiful to a fault, suddenly be willing to throw caution, and the safety of others, to the wind. She could’ve asked, but didn’t. If he wanted her to know, he’d tell her.

Rather than confess, he lit the candle as the last of the watery gray sunlight faded. Now it was pitch black with the moon hidden behind the clouds and the rain sounding heavy. Rick set the lamp a few feet away but still under the awning and they could just barely see the water falling in the weak golden nimbus of its light.

“You ever wish you could start over?” Maggie asked.

“Every day,” Rick confessed. “What’s got you feeling that way? I mean, it’s not my business but, is it another fight with Glenn?”

It didn’t matter that he was right about it not being his business, it only mattered that his kindness and friendship led him to care enough to ask. Maggie nodded and leaned her head against the door, sharing the cigarette and moonshine with Rick until the moonshine was gone and they were both swimming in a haze of alcohol induced bliss.

“I’m tired of the arguments. I’m tired of him making things about himself. I’m tired of me being too sensitive about things wherever he’s concerned.”

Rick’s response was a simple nod, to which Maggie was grateful. Unlike most men, Rick didn’t feel the need the fix the little lady’s problems for her. Maybe it was because he’d lived it, with Lori, long before she’d had a chance to live it with Glenn, that he understood the frustrations of married life, apocalypse or not.

Maggie wondered, in that moment, how old Rick was. He looked to be about forty, maybe forty-two. He was handsome, that was for certain, and rugged, with his beard stubble and that patch of chest hair visible under his slightly unbuttoned shirt. He was as different from Glenn as night was to day, though not superior. Glenn was the day in that equation, without a doubt, with his bright and hopeful outlook on life that sometimes drove her nuts. Rick was night. He was a dark man, with a pragmatic outlook, and approach, to everything. It was as though he lived in a world trapped at dusk, with no hope of the dawn to cheer him up.

In the darkness, Maggie’s hand found Rick’s, and to her surprise, he didn’t pull away from her touch. He simply returned the light squeeze of her fingers.

“Why do you look so sad?” she asked.

“Something stupid,” was his whispered answer.

“I’ll judge if it’s stupid or not.”

Rick smiled, his fingers still warm, entwined with hers. Calloused and strong, yet gentle.

“I came upon Karen and Tyreese kissing.”

“You’re into Karen? You were jealous?” she asked, mildly surprised.

“No, not at all.”

“You’re into Tyreese?”

That made him laugh, and she laughed with him.

“I just saw myself on bended knee, confessing my undying love to Tyreese,” said Rick, and they laughed harder, together, until their voices trailed away into nothing.

“It’s just…”

Rick’s voice trailed away. He’d been kind enough to allow her time to gather her thoughts. Maggie returned the favor.

“I miss kissing, and cuddling, and pillow talk. I miss holding someone, having someone to touch, and being touched. I miss sex. I miss the companionship, too, but I miss the lust.”

Maggie was breathless at the confession. He’d spoken it so honestly, so eloquently. It had been a long time since anyone had been so completely open with her, and laid themselves bare before her with their words.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Rick said, trying to walk it back. “That was inappropriate.”

“It was honest,” she said. “Nothing wrong with being honest, Rick.”

Sitting there in the weak light of that single candle, looking at the wall of rain that fell before them and unable to see beyond that, Maggie held Rick’s hand and felt how warm his skin was, how rough his work calloused hands were, and thoughts she never allowed herself to indulge crossed her mind. Thoughts about how those hands would feel against her skin. How that rough stubble would rub her thighs a little raw, even as his tongue rubbed her clit, and drove her to ecstasy.

She looked at him, his handsome face with lines forming, and the roundness of youth that was steadily disappearing from his features. It somehow made him sexier, the age, and the gray that crept into his beard, and his eyebrows. He had such plump lips. Lips that begged her to kiss them. Lips that had enticed her to do just that before, without him even being aware of it.

“You miss fucking,” she said, her voice low and husky.

“Maggie…”

She wanted to get up and go inside, say goodnight to Rick and sleep off the buzz from the moonshine that had helped her relax and unwind. The moonshine hadn’t just relaxed her body. It had relaxed her sense of morality, as well, and maybe Rick’s too, judging by the intensity of the sexual tension humming hard between them. Her heart raced at the feel of his hand in hers, his fingers moving, seeking hers out, caressing hers. She could feel his need, the longing to touch and be touched, that she also shared.

When Maggie leaned forward her lips found Rick’s without error. One quick kiss that was just a peck, then another, and another: three kisses he didn’t shy away from. Their eyes met. He held her gaze for just a moment, before he closed the gap this time, pressing his lips to hers. His tongue plunged into her mouth, and a moment later she was moaning with him as their tongues met, each massaging the other in a slow, sensual kiss that stoked the ache of need deep inside her. He tasted of moonshine and cigarettes, and something else that was just him. Just Rick.

When they broke apart, hearts thundering, their breath coming in heavy and hot, their foreheads touched, they rested against one another.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“I kissed you first,” she reminded him. “Don’t take the blame all on your own.”

They pulled apart, clumsily got to their feet, hot despite the cool breeze and the wet chill in the air. Rick grabbed the candle and opened the door, motioning for her to go in ahead of him. They’d make their way back to the prison this way, rather than walking in the chilly rain.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They retreated to familiar territory--business. They stood looking at one another, Rick holding the candle, trying, and failing, to ignore Maggie’s hardened nipples that poked at her shirt from arousal, not cold. Maggie wanted to move on, maybe let Rick lead the way with his candle lighting the darkness for them, but her body didn’t move. She looked into his blue eyes, now nearly black in the darkness of the dimly lit room, and shook her head.

“I don’t wanna go,” she finally admitted. “I wanna stay here, with you, and do something wrong.”

Rick’s eyes went to his feet. He stood so still, he could’ve just been a shadow, rather than a hot-blooded man.

“You’re my friend’s wife,” he said. “I’ve been on the other side of that…but I’m selfish enough to not care. Not right now.”

The office they were in was cluttered with old furniture covered in dust. There were a few dirty old mattresses that had been discarded, lying on the floor by the desk, and Rick set the candle down on it and raked his hands through his hair. His eyes pleaded with Maggie, even as he dropped his hands to his sides and fisted them.

“Leave, Maggie. Please. I can’t,” he said. “I can’t say no. I’ll do whatever you want, no matter how wrong it is.”

Maggie wanted to leave. She wanted to do what was right, rather than what felt good in the moment. She wanted to leave, but that wasn’t gonna happen. She knew it every bit as well as Rick did.

“I’m sorry, Rick.”

She moved forward, just a step, and that was all it took. There was no turning back, now. He hooked a finger into her jeans and yanked her close, her pelvis bumping against his burgeoning erection. What had started off as two friends sharing a drink and a smoke, and a good laugh, had turned into an act of pure sin. It was a living beast, taking up residence in each of them, leading them to pull her shirt over her head, and leading her to do the same. His fingers didn’t bother with unclasping her bra, he just pulled it over her head.

Rick’s mouth found Maggie’s as she wrapped a leg around him. His hips ground into hers and she pressed back, feeling his hardness against her clit.

“Oh, God, I’m so wet for you,” she whispered. Rick moaned against her neck, leaned her against the desk and pressed harder, before he undid her jeans, and his, and shoved them out of the way. He helped her get a leg free before wrapping it around his narrow waist and grinding into her again.

Maggie fell back, onto the desk, enjoying the grind, the tease, while Rick’s free hand slid down her chest. He gently slapped one breast, tweaked a nipple, drove her to whimper and plead for more, even as her wetness grew, soaked into her panties, which he pushed aside to run two fingers through her slick and pulling a guttural moan from her. She could feel his rough fingers circling her bud, stoking the ache between her legs until the tension reached a climax and she cried out. He pressed two fingers at her entrance, enjoyed the feel of her pussy as it twitched from her orgasm.

Then he pulled her off the desk, took her to the mattresses, and all but threw her down. Maggie sat up just as Rick got to his knees before her, worked his boxers down and freed him. His cock was rock hard, stretched taut. She felt him pulse in her grip, twitching eagerly as she took him in hand and locked her gaze with him. He stroked back her hair, a look of almost violent need on his face. She wiped that look away, turned it from something akin to rage, to pure ecstasy when she took the head between her lips and sucked. She wet his dick with her mouth, let his hips thrust forward to fuck her mouth. His hips moved slowly, deliberate, careful, yet there was a sense of greed in the way he gripped her hair and slid his length down her throat, gagging her, moaning every time she gagged. He pulled out, his breath short, his eyes closed as he composed himself.

Rick urged Maggie onto her back. He didn’t bother with kissing down her belly from her lips. After tonguing her hungrily for a few moments he went straight for her core, pulling a moan from her as he ran his tongue over her sensitive bud. He flicked at it with his tongue, then suckled, then flicked again, and then licked with the flat of his tongue, moving up her slit in long slow strokes that teased her swollen, throbbing lips.

“Rick…” she gasped.

Damn, was it strange to say another man’s name in the heat of the moment. . It was so strange to say another man’s name in the heat of the moment. She was going to hate herself in the morning, she knew, but for now Maggie couldn’t get enough of the feel of Rick’s tongue on her, his fingers coming to penetrate her and rub at her spot inside while his tongue kept up a merciless, relentless assault on her clit and on her lips. He was determined to get her off again, and his work paid off when her thighs clenched, and her toes curled found release again. There were no screams from her lips when she climaxed. Perhaps years of needing to be quiet couldn’t be broken so easily or perhaps she just didn’t need to. It didn’t diminish the moment, how a long low moan spilled from the pit of her soul as her pussy clenched around Rick’s fingers, how her juices flowed in a light trickle from her body as the ripples of her orgasm shot through the core of her body and radiated out to the tips of her fingers and toes.

Her eyes fluttered open to find Rick watching her. His stubbled chin glistened with her juices in the dim light of the candle. He wiped it away, moved to lean over her, but she pulled him down and rolled him over until she mounted him. Her body sought him out. She felt him at her opening and sank down until he was fully sheathed inside. She sat there, still, taking him in, enjoying the stretch of him inside her, filling her completely.

“Maggie…”

Rick’s voice was deep, sounding like an animal in the midst of some kind of fever. He was mindless now, lost in the sensation of being inside her. Head thrown back, Rick’s fingers dug into her thighs as she moved over him, moving with slow, deliberate strokes, drawing it out for him. She wanted him to enjoy it, to feel it, for it not to end too quickly. He deserved something good. He deserved pleasure. He moved slowly, along with Maggie, pulling out while she moved up, then thrusting up as she brought her hips down. It was a languid rhythm, one that was teasing, warm, wet, tight, satisfying.

It was good until she clenched around him and began bouncing her ass, moving over his cock with heated friction that burned him, made him ache for more, made him relish the speed she used. He began to thrust against her harder, picked up the pace, grazed her nipples with his thumbs. and making The slap of skin against skin was fast, loud, and wet in the dark, cool office. Her moans weren’t slow and deep now, but shallow, high in pitch, whimpers that spurred him on to fuck her deeper, harder. He thrust in fast, pushing in as far as he could go until finally he found a release from the nearly painful tightness in his cock and balls. His orgasm rushed through him so hard he gripped Maggie’s ass with bruising strength, stilling her on him as he thrust up and into her one final time, spilling every last drop he had inside her, curses and moans falling from his mouth.
… 

They dressed in silence and Maggie stepped out onto the rain, let it wash the scent of Rick Grimes from her flesh. She’d tell Glenn she was walking and got soaked. If he bothered to ask. She flipped on the flashlight and looked at Rick, who leaned in the doorway of the office and watched her let nature wash away the smell of their sin. She wondered if he felt guilt already. He didn’t look like he did. She certainly didn’t feel guilty. Not yet.

“It can’t happen again,” she said.

“I know.”

Those were the last words spoken between them. Maggie shivered in the chill and started back toward the cell she shared with Glenn, Rick’s taste still in her mouth, and the ghost of his body still inside her with every step she took. It brought a smile to her lips, that feel, that taste. When she lay down to sleep, her heart remained unburdened.