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The noodles are, actually, not half bad. Rick hadn’t been expecting any great things from ten-year-old ramen, and although they’re certainly not ‘silky smooth’ as the packaging claims, they’re miles above the protein wheat diet they’d had him on since he’d joined up. Michonne likes them too. He watches her with, he’s sure, all of his obsessive fondness showing bright on his face, observing the firelight flickering over her nose, and the sweat dripping down her neck. Her motions are a bit ravenous. After a few minutes of his sneaky glances, she feels his eyes on the side of her face and looks up at him over her soup.
“Need something?” It’s all teasing and pretty. Rick shakes his head and swallows the noodles he’s got in his mouth before trying to speak.
“Just lookin’atcha.” She grins at him a bit wider. After so long without her face, it’s hardly something he’s even choosing to do. He feels the need biologically and desperately, as if he doesn’t take her all in now, they’ll slip away from each other before he gets the chance. “Pretty,” he adds, for maybe the hundredth time in the past few days. “You’re very pretty.”
A cool gust of wind blows through their bodies, and they both huddle up slightly closer to each other and the fire. As she shifts, he sees her lips curl back all the way over her teeth in a girlish smile. Even though he’s actually beginning to overheat a little, he presses his thigh and his shoulder right up against her as well. The smell of her skin and her hair is heady and stronger the closer he is to her body…something like the little vials of lotion they give out to all the recruits with their toiletries. “Thank you,” she replies, amused and aware he’s sniffing her. “You’re sweet today.”
Rick hums a little laugh into the small space between his face and her neck. It becomes even smaller when he gives up on the noodles, which are mainly just little soggy pieces now, and sets the carton down on the wet ground in front of him. Without his hand, doing that is almost as difficult as it had been to eat the damn thing in the first place, balancing it up on his knee and the plastic of his fake arm. If there were more than a quarter of broth left in there now, he’d probably have spilled it all over her shoes. Michonne scoffs a little warning, like she agrees with that assessment. Resting his forearms on his knees, he turns to look at her. “Thank you.”
It comes out a little too sultry. She scoffs again, though it does nothing to dissuade him. How could it? If he’s honest with himself, he’s been all over her ever since she’d arrived back at base, probably to a slightly dangerous extent. He just can’t control the need around her, not after so long, and certainly not now that they’re free and clear to get up to whatever they’d like to get up to. The delicate column of her throat moves as she swallows, so inviting that he feels pulled forward a few inches closer. “Rick.” Her voice is still giggly and delighted. He flicks his eyes up to look at her face, though she’s hiding behind her bowl of noodles and her plastic fork. “What’re you doing?”
He shrugs and reaches up with his other hand to try and bat the food away. “I don’t know.” It’s very, very true. He hasn’t got any goal or end in mind, couldn’t even begin to think to choose. “Wanna do a lotta things.”
“I’m eating.”
As if to emphasise her point, she bites down pointedly around the utensil and slides it between her teeth. Rick rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. That’s your third damn one.”
Quick, and before she can dig her fingers into his side, he reaches out and snatches the plastic garbage from off her lap. Michonne’s too busy stabilizing the precariously filled bowl to do much either way, other than make an indignant little sound and sneak another big bite. The cute, curvy little writing flickers as he smooths out the wrapper on his knee and waits for her to finish chewing. “Oh, don’t talk,” she says, before she’s even swallowed. “How many have you had, exactly?”
‘Five’ is the answer to that question, but Rick keeps that to himself and gives her an obtuse-sounding, “Dunno,” instead. He tries to kick the pile of damning garbage at his feet to the side, but Michonne notices just as he does it and laughs at him real loud. They scatter all up in the wind and one curls a bit dangerously close to the fire. He snatches it as well, right before it can go up in flames.
“Yeah, be quiet.”
He presses the warm plastic against his other thigh. Michonne’s watching him fiddle- he can feel her locs brushing against his shoulder as he can hear loud chewing right in his ear. It’s a funny thing. That would drive him absolutely crazy if it were anybody else doing it (though he’s hard pressed to think of a time in the last eight years he’s let anyone this close to his body), but from her, it’s so endearing that he has to tilt his face to the side real quick and plant an adoring kiss on her cheek. It surprises her slightly. She hums and kisses him back, in almost the exact same place. Like a boy, Rick feels himself brim with warmth and a blush on his face that can’t be attributed entirely to the fire in front of him.
Although it’s difficult, he sits in silence and lets her finish her meal peacefully. It doesn’t take her more than a couple minutes, but it’s enough for his mind to wander down the twisting trail his thoughts have been taking him to all day today. The visions that flash are dirty and familiar, and filled with ambition. He takes care to sort them out very carefully as she tilts the bowl to her mouth and drinks up all the broth, which ones they’ll have to try later, in a bed, and which they can manage right now, in the truck. Hm. He could lick her, definitely. Could fuck her, too…her eyes settle like heavy weights back on the side of his face. Could get her to let him eat her from behind, like he’s done a few times before, though not nearly enough. Rick looks out of the corner of his eye to see if she’s still watching, and- yes, she is. It’s impossible to contain his laugh as she catches him in the act, reading his mind and his body, and somehow sensing exactly what he’s thinking.
Michonne shakes her head at him, laughing as well. One of her fingers taps against the plastic resting still on his leg. “Not tasteful.”
He scoffs. When he turns all the way to look at her properly, their noses almost brush together. “Don’t even know what I’m thinkin’.”
Her touch lingers on his thigh. Carefully, she smooths her palm up enough that the plastic flitters away onto the ground. He can feel the warmth of her blood and her skin, even through his thick jeans. “Yeah, I do.” She drifts higher. Oh. Rick feels himself heat. It’s…it’s been a long time away from his wife, is all he’ll say in defense of himself. It doesn’t take too much to get him excited anymore. With the tip of her pinky finger, she traces against his zipper, right over the growing bulge in his jeans and firm enough that the fabric shifts slightly against him. “Y’know what I’m thinking?”
Rick bites his tongue between his teeth. He smiles at her and shakes his head, not entirely trusting himself to respond. Her easy smile breaks back onto her face. It’s a delighted, light expression, matched by the way she scrunches up her nose as she leans in almost conspiratorially. “You ever sent a tasteful nood before?”
“Oh, get outta here.” More warmth blooms over his cheeks. “Knew you were gonna ask that.”
He really, honestly did. She giggles almost dangerously loud, and has to look away from him to smother the sound with the back of her hand. He’d been surprised when she hadn’t made that joke as soon as he’d shown her the packaging, but sure that she’d work it in somehow. They’ve had some variant of this conversation so many times over their time together, and with her always the instigator. Rick thinks, in the back of his mind, that it’s a bit of a kink- or at least, that it is very rapidly approaching a bit of a kink.
The memories are hazy to him now, but he remembers roughly how it started. Sometime after the war, when they’d had all that empty time to explore each other and tell all their secrets. Michonne had told him everything about her life before the fall, and he’d told her everything about his, as well- including the Sunday school, the summers working at the drive-in, the picket fence neighborhood, and the heavy, southern, community faith waiting around every corner of disobedience. He can and has admitted to her that he is maybe a bit less experienced in that area than the average person. It might’ve all been a joke, then, he’ll give her that- but the more it had happened, the more suspicious he’d started to get. Suddenly, she’d had all these questions. Had he ever made himself cum with someone watching? Had he ever had a threesome? Ever had sex somewhere he shouldn’t, ever let anyone get real rough with him, ever cum in his pants? Save for that last one (which he might’ve liked to lie to her about, if he weren’t entirely unable to do so), the answer had always been a resounding no, and her response had always been slightly degrading, extremely sexy cooing and teasing, and then, well, would he like to try? Would he like her to teach him how?
Yeah. Definitely, definitely a kink. Rick has to be honest with himself again, though, as she continues her hysterical, caught laughter and buries her face in his shoulder- he’s kind of into it. The only problem with this one is…he blushes to even think what he’s thinking. It’s a long, long time ago, three decades now, probably, but it grips him like it was yesterday. He knows he’s not going to be able to tell her any fibs. The answer is…not a flat-out no.
Michonne’s lips brush accidentally against his collarbone as she catches her breath. It takes her annoyingly little time to regain control of herself, and she doesn’t give him nearly enough room to school the damning expression on his face back into something neutral. He literally feels it through her body as she catches onto the scent like a bloodhound. Her shoulders tense and her mouth falls closed, and then she leans back out just a few inches from his chest. Obviously, so she can study his face a bit better. The blooming redness there, no doubt, colouring hot over the bridge of his nose and his cheeks.
A few heavy seconds pass. “Rick,” she finally manages. Her voice is all disbelief. “You have not.”
He shakes his head quickly, already feeling his composure slipping away from him. “I haven’t.” The words are a bit squeaky in his throat. “Not like that. Hardly knew how to use my phone back then, I wouldn’t have been able to if I tried.”
Michonne’s grip on his thigh gets a bit tighter. Out of the side of his vision, he eyes their truck, hidden in the treeline, and the area around them- trying to gauge whether or not he should throw her in the back now or if they’ll have enough of their composure to manage it in a few minutes. Probably, they will. This just…the last time he’d told her ‘yes’ about something like this, the cumming in his pants thing, it had been a whole other experience. She’d been ravenous, and so had he. “You…” she tries, leaning over a bit farther to follow his face. A hint of a shocked smile is pulling at the corner of her mouth. “How…what does that mean?”
He can feel her breath on his throat. Shit. The tightness in his pants is growing only worse by the second. With all of the need inside of him now, he turns back until they're lined up just as they were moments ago, with their noses almost touching. A few feet away, the fire crackles loudly. It’s glowing and bouncing off her face, and the undeniably excited look hanging there. “I was drunk,” Rick says, slow and intimate, almost like he’s telling her a ghost story. She nods right away. “An’ twenty-one, too. Was so stupid, I still have no clue what was goin’ through my head.” He pauses, really trying to tell it right, and really trying to get her hooked. By the way she scrunches her nose at him, she realizes this. “We had friends over, me and Shane, for my birthday, y’know. An’ I was takin’ all these pictures of everyone.”
“Mhm.” Ever the attentive listener, Michonne’s eyes widen. Their knees bump together as they try and get somehow closer into each other’s bodies.
“I was drunk.” He really wants to make that clear. “An’ one of our friends, who Shane had been tryna set me up with, was talkin’ t’me an’ stuff. We had sex.”
Her lips are damp with spit, and she darts her tongue out over them again right as he notices- still nodding. This look on her face…fuck. It pangs him with love and fondness. She makes him feel so completely wanted, like he’s never, ever felt before. Her fingers are tracing hesitant, slow patterns over his thigh, so lightly that she must not even realize she’s doing it. “We had sex,” he repeats. “An’, I don’t know, somehow I still had that stupid camera next to me on the bed. I didn’t think anythin’ about it, y’know, ‘til she picked it up. Started pointin’ it at me.”
“Shit.” Michonne’s jaw works as she looks over his face. He can’t help himself from preening a little under her attention and obvious arousal, and he feels his own lips tug up into a grin as she continues watching him. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he moves to press them against her cheek again. She watches him as he does it, through her fluttering eyelashes. Automatically, her fingers hitch a little higher up his thigh.
Rick doesn’t pull back too far- only enough to look into her eyes before curling into her body just so and kissing the shell of her ear. “I didn’t care,” he continues, voice gravelly. “Told her whatever. So she took some. I’ll just tell’ya they weren’t nothin’ like ‘tasteful’.”
She actually, honestly moans. It surprises him slightly, enough that he lets out a little scoffing laugh when he kisses her again, over her cheekbone this time. “An’ I told ya, I was real stupid, ‘cause the next day Shane took ‘em in to get developed- single errand he ever ran in his damn life, course it was that. He swore up an’ down that he didn’t notice ‘til we were all lookin’ at ‘em, all our friends an’ everyone, but I know he did it on purpose.”
It’s a fond memory. Rick feels a sharp pang in his chest at the thought, and at the sweet, remembering feeling that moves through him. He’s managed to deal with all of it as best he can over the years, and though it’s taken him a long, long time, Michonne’s helped him realize that talking about them, and all those old memories, is the whole point- no matter how things wound up. His lips brush her skin another time, a bit rougher, and drag forward all the way until something inside of both of them completely snaps. He loves her so much. They press together in a firm, needy kiss, both of them equally destroyed. Only a few days back with her, and she’s already piecing him into the best of himself, into the man he’s always wanted to be. A rough sound like a growl vibrates into her mouth as he grabs her by the face.
Michonne kisses him until she’s all out of breath and has to pull back. Her eyes open a bit too soon, like always, and he feels her lashes fluttering against his cheeks. Their lips make a wet noise as they separate. “God,” she manages, after a few calming seconds. “Rick, that’s so sexy.”
Mm. He grins at her real wide, moving forward to give her a last little peck. With all the glee that he’d been holding in as soon as he’d remembered it, Rick raises his eyebrows excitedly at her. “Wanna guess what I saw in the glovebox?” Her whole body stills. Her eyes go wide. Chuckling, he nods and confirms what he can tell she’s already just understood. “Was gonna save it an’ sneak some pictures of’ya, but…” He shrugs.
Before he’s even had time to ask her if she wants to, Michonne is leaping up off the bench and picking up the bucket of water for the fire. The flames hiss a loud sound as they die, and in her excitement, she manages to get all the smoke blowing right in his face. “Michonne!” Rick chastises her through a cough, evacuating quick as he can. She tosses him the weakest, most distracted apology of all time- he knows right then that she’s all in it.
It takes them barely a second to make it to the truck, and for her to shove him into the backseat. The fit is tighter than he’d thought it would be from up front, and he’s glad for the room she gives him to adjust as she rips open the passenger side door. His heart is beating in his chest like he’s having an attack or something. It shoots up somehow faster when Michonne makes an excited, high noise in her throat, clearly finding the thing. The door slams shut, and she quickly pokes her head around the side of the vehicle and starts clambering in after him.
He feels a bit bad for laughing when the door closes on the tip of her boot, but then, she is, too. “Shut up,” she mumbles, crawling forward enough for it to shut all the way. It puts her up very close to his body, close enough that she’s almost sitting on his lap, and he can feel the soft curve of her breasts against his arm. Michonne hums under her breath. “Take your clothes off.”
The look in his eye is surely delighted. Rick obeys her without question. It’s not his most elegant or dignified moment, but thankfully, she’s too busy wrestling out of her own stuff to notice when he gets stuck in his jeans and almost falls face-first in between the seats. At least, he’s pretty sure she is- the smile on her face is a bit too big as she turns back around.
But Rick doesn’t have time to think about that for long. With the room she’s got behind the passenger seat, she’s managed to slip off her jeans and her shirt much quicker than him, and is only tugging her socks off now. Her breasts are pretty and perfect. He watches, entranced, as she moves up further into his lap and as they bounce and press together. Michonne makes a small noise in her throat, noticing his stare. “Yeah?” She gets a leg over his thighs. Again, his jeans aren’t all the way off, and he’s still got his boots on. This seems to be happening a lot lately, in their haste, but he has no complaints. All he cares about is seeing her.
Rick nods and reaches up to touch her with the pad of his thumb. Her nipple is pebbled and cold against his skin. His fingers press underneath the heavy roundness of her, lifting and prodding slightly. Proud and preening, Michone brings her own hand up to pinch at her other breast.
“Fuck,” he says, hoarse. “Wanna take pictures of you.”
“You can. Let me go first, though.” Alright. Rick doesn’t care how they do this; he just cares that they do it. Her arm comes up beside his head to press against the glass window, and she uses the leverage to move her breasts up into his face. He almost blacks out for a second. Thankfully, he doesn’t, and instead manages a grip tight enough on his composure to allow him to lean in and take her into his mouth. He’s so hard. He loves doing this, so, so, so much. Michonne likes it too, though she’s told him before that her nipples aren’t actually that sensitive. The attention, maybe, is what does it. Only when he nips at her does she make a little, pleased noise, jostling both of her breasts into his face accidentally. Her hand moves from her other nipple to the back of his hair, holding him tight in place.
He relishes it for the few seconds that she keeps it there, scratching and playing with the damp strands falling over his forehead. After only a minute, it’s lost, and she jostles herself again as if leaning over to reach for something. “Rick,” she calls out for him, quiet and soft. Just as he looks up at her, his face still buried in her breasts, and his tongue half out of his mouth, he realizes why. The camera flash is bright and blinding.
A surprised sound leaves him. Louder is the sound of the camera whirring and pushing out the little Polaroid. He feels himself all red and embarrassed, already. Michonne notices it too, by the way she strokes down the side of his face as she snatches the thing up and shakes it out in the air. Almost nervous, he waits for her reaction. It comes slow enough to be a bit torturous. Rick has to focus on licking at her as she continues to shake it, and he gets so caught up in his work that she surprises him again. “Oh,” she says, sounding very happy. She flips it around to show him. “So handsome.”
Rick has to lean up on his elbows to see it properly in the low light. Once he does…fuck. He flicks his eyes up to look at her in surprise, then back down at the photo. This is probably the tamest of what she’s gonna take, and he looks, already, debauched. His eyebrows are raised and his eyes are wide, and he sees himself looking at the camera almost expectantly. He sees as well, the pink of his tongue pressed up against her nipple, and the way he’s got his face all but buried in her chest. “Jesus.”
Michonne hums her agreement. Carefully, she drops the picture into the driver's seat, reaching to the side slightly to do so. Her hand doesn’t return to his hair, though- with wide eyes, he sees her slide it down her stomach until she’s touching between her legs. She’s leaned back enough that she’s in line with the divider, though she’s still facing him and the door that he’s leaning up against. He short-circuits, watching her rub and tease her clit, and knowing, as well, that she’s watching him right back. It sounds wet and messy. Before he can get distracted, Rick picks up what’s left of his brain and takes the camera from her.
Luckily, she’s got her eyes closed and isn’t blinded by the flash as he was. The picture develops in front of his eyes, so perfect it makes his heart hurt. Her back is arched, and she’s bent away from him, as she still is right now, putting her breasts all up on display. She has a calm, comfortable look on her face, and a wet sheen on her fingers as she spreads herself slightly for the camera. When he keeps staring, she leans into him again to look for herself. Her face comes back red. Good- at least he’s not the only one embarrassed, doing this.
He slips the Polaroid through the headrest into the driver’s seat before he can drop it. “Tasteful, d’ya think?” Michonne laughs and shakes her head. Her fingers rub a bit harder. “I don’t even know what a tasteful nude is. All seem filthy t’me.”
“Boudoir, maybe. I did one of those once.”
He’s not totally sure what that is, but it’s clearly something related to…whatever they’re doing right now. She senses his confusion in the same motion that she grabs his hand with her wet fingers and presses him against her pussy to take over. “It’s like a fancy photoshoot. With a professional.”
Fuck, she’s so wet. It distracts him enough, pushing his fingers between her dripping folds, that he almost doesn’t catch what she’s saying. Almost. “Y’let some photographer see’ya like that?”
The giggle out of her lips catches on a moan. He drags his fingers over her clit, rubbing her just so. A strange feeling runs through him quickly. It’s not jealousy or anything. They’ve always had this special relationship with each other, sharing their past lives and histories, and their sexual experiences, of course, as they just have. Something about the thought of somebody watching her, though, someone who she wasn’t with like that…Rick just doesn’t like it. “It wasn’t like that. She was very professional and artsy about it. Nothing creepy.”
Still. His fingers stutter and spasm. It doesn’t take her long to start getting worked up. Rick stares, enamored, as her hips begin to roll against his gentle touch, and as she reaches out with her hands a bit flailingly. One comes to the back of the driver’s seat, the other to his shoulder. Both bits of extra leverage let her bounce herself up and down. It’s almost like she’s riding him. Rick wishes he still had his other hand. He’s wished that many, many times over the past few years, but never as much as when he’s with her, touching her only half as much as he used to be able to. If he could, he’d grab her by the waist and make her hold still, like he always liked to do whenever she got a bit greedy.
Her fingers splay a bit wider over the tension in his shoulder. Gently, she smooths her thumb over the sharpness of his collarbone. “Mm,” she hums. “Feels so nice.”
Sweet, pretty woman. Rick slips a finger inside her in some type of reward, though it’s largely a selfish action. If anyone feels nice, it’s her. She’s so soft inside, and outside too. As soon as he slips through the tight wetness, he feels her body spasm and try and take him deeper. He wants to take another picture, but he can’t. “Fuck. Michonne.” Her hips keep rolling. He can’t touch himself either, though he’s painfully hard and leaking, just a few inches from her wetness. “So gorgeous, honey.”
It’s a shy, youthful smile that comes over her face. She mouths a little thank you, which is adorable, and almost completely silent save for the little moan that escapes around the last vowel. He’s to blame- he curls his finger forward again, a little too roughly. Shit. He loves this. He loves touching inside her and feeling her get him all wet, until she’s dripping down the back of his knuckles, and all the movement is getting them both filthy. With his ring finger, he presses against her opening again, not pushing all the way forward quite yet- just nudging her open. A loud, delighted noise leaves her. Rick gets an idea.
“You do it.” His hand is still occupied, so he has to nudge at the camera with his other elbow to get across what he means. Michonne opens her eyes as soon as she hears him and looks down. “Gimme a hand.”
“Oh my god.” She rolls her eyes at him, more so as he laughs at his own stupid joke. But she listens, too. The camera is picked up from the crook of his elbow and pointed back at his face, but he shakes his head quickly before she can waste the film.
“No, of yourself,” he clarifies. In case she still doesn’t understand, he nods down at his hand where it’s currently occupied. “Of you.” Michonne raises an eyebrow, but the look she’s trying to give him is undercut by the lip she draws in between her teeth. “Please.” It’s tacked on a little hastily, but it does the trick. A bit hesitantly, she angles the thing down at herself.
Rick pulls his fingers all the way out of her pussy, almost moaning at the filthy sound they make as he does. Another time for the picture, and with her stickiness between the gaps of his fingers, he spreads her all the way. Michonne gasps, embarrassed, and thrusts forward into the teasing touch. More wetness gushes out of her. It’s perfect timing. The bright flash of the camera blinds him again, and then the machine inside is humming and printing out the little slip. Even though he’s got the real thing right in front of him, Rick can hardly wait the ten seconds it takes for it to develop. Eagerly, as soon as she’s finished shaking it out, he curls forward to look. Michonne draws in a sharp breath- from the view of herself or the quick way he fucks his fingers back into her, he doesn’t know.
“Fuck.”
He feels his dick bob against his stomach. ‘Fuck’ is right. It’s all shown up perfectly in the photo, her wetness on his fingers, the pink, aching bud of her neglected clit, and even her slit, still stretched out slightly from the intrusion. This one is real, real good. Michonne clenches around him again, her body agreeing. Need, need, need, he’s so filled with need. It’s beginning to overwhelm him now, too, as it always eventually does. Rick can smell her so strong it makes his mouth water. He’s not entirely sure what to do other than curse and rub at her clit with the pad of his thumb. “God.”
“Rick.” She’s practically whining. Her breath comes in a sharp, panicked gasp, and when he looks up at her face, she’s shaking her head, real scared-like. The grip she’s got, both on him and the car, tightens. “Oh my god. Need you, need you so bad, Rick, Rick.”
Almost as soon as she’s said it, and before he’s even processed the words, she’s dropping all of her weight off her knees and falling down on top of him. In a perfect moment of coordination, she comes to sit right on his dick, pressed up against his stomach. He feels her shift slightly, until what’s already perfect is even more perfect, and he’s slid up right between her folds with only his fingers in the way. Though it’s painful to leave, she tugs his hand out of the way and pushes him back to work at her clit. Rick hears the loud, dull sound of his head slamming back against the glass window. “You’re killin’ me, hon’.”
More weight is loosened. The next thing he feels is her lips, up underneath his jaw. It feels so good, having her kiss him like this, though nowhere near as good as it feels when she rocks forward and drags him through her wet folds. Carefully, she moves her hand off his shoulder to grip at the side of his face and smooth over his beard. Even though he’s half naked in a parked car in the deep fall, he feels red-hot all over. “Rick,” Michonne repeats, proving the words as he thinks them. “Rick.”
“I got’cha, honey.” Again, he wishes he could touch her properly. Maybe rub his hand up her back in those soothing little circles she likes, or scratch at the base of her neck, just at the first curlings of soft hair there. She digs the sharpness of her teeth into his rapidly beating pulse. “Come on. Whadd’ya need.”
The only answer she can manage is a small, desperate noise. She’s close, then. He’s sure of it when she buries her face in his shoulder and sobs. Her fingers close over his wrist very gently, urging him on but being too bursting with pleasure to be able to control her touch properly. It’s jolting and unsure, and it feels like something sacred. The sharpness of her nails flutters and dances over the tendons protruding out from his skin, the veins too, crossing underneath. He can feel her inside him, as if she’s a part of his body. Rick groans low in his throat and turns his face into her hair. She’s too distracted to tease him for how obviously he smells her, so he lets himself go. He presses his nose underneath her ear, into the draping curtain of her locs, her cheek. It…it calms him down. He knows it’s strange, but he can’t deny it to himself. The way she smells and the way she tastes, again, he feels his mouth pool with saliva just thinking about licking his hand clean once she’s finished. She rocks forward a little further.
“Rick.” It’s almost too quiet for him to hear, almost lost into his skin. Rick hums back at her and moves his own hips, just enough that the head of his dick catches on her opening. Christ. She whines another time, high in her throat, and squirms so adorably back onto him- all the way back onto him, until he’s nudging just inside.
Michonne loses the ability to keep herself upright. Almost drunkenly, her head rolls back, and her neck goes loose, and Rick watches with rapt eyes the look on her face. She’s sucking on her lip, almost trying to soothe herself, and her eyes are droopy and lost. Rick knows it’s a bit mean, but because she just looks so pretty, and because he likes to drag her out sometimes before she cums, he takes his hand off her clit and reaches for the camera. He feels bad with how sticky the thing gets, and worse with how he flashes it right in her face, and worse still with how sadly she moans at the loss. It’s worth it. Rick wants it, just for later. He doesn’t torture her anymore by waiting for it to develop; just shakes it a second and drops it into the driver’s seat like before. Good timing, too, because that’s as long as she gives him before she gets frustrated and grabs his hand to touch back between her legs.
“Sorry, sorry. I know.” Placatingly, he finds a quicker pace. The tip of his dick slides a bit further inside, until he’s stretching her all out. “Just so sexy, baby, fuck. Wanna look atcha forever.” Her eyes slip closed at the praise. Rick likes this so much. He likes how drowsy she gets when she’s real into it, and how pliable too. Just as much as he likes her mean and focused, and putting him in the same place, as he’s sure she will as soon as she gets her senses back. Now, though…now she’s nuzzling into his neck, searching out more. He obliges her. His voice comes out more ragged than he means, so much so he hardly understands his own accent- thicker, somehow, since she’s found him. Like before. Like how he’s noticed she’s grown to talk sometimes, picking up all the little things that she used to tease him about. “Wanna fuck’ya.” She shivers. To emphasise the point, he gives her a bit more of his dick. Michonne automatically adjusts to take it, her legs squirming and tensing around his waist. “Wanna take a hundred pictures of’ya. All sticky like this. Rubbin’ yourself on me.” When she tries to turn her face away, he follows her. Another inch. “Oh, don’t go so shy, now. Thought’cha knew all about this stuff.”
“Rick.”
Her voice is surprised and aroused, and all filled up with the heat of her pleasure. She tightens around him, on his dick, on her grip on his shoulder, against his waist with her thighs. She’s so warm and wet. He can’t hold himself back any longer. With an aching groan, he pushes the last of himself up into the tightness of her pussy. It knocks the last bit of air and strength right out of her body. Rick catches her as she falls, best he can with his only hand busy on her clit. “Yeah, you’re okay, honey. So beautiful. So sweet.”
The tone of the words drops down into something a little saccharinely teasing, which he hadn’t quite meant it to, but has no problem with, by the way Michonne reacts. Her open, panting mouth connects with his throat in something too messy to be a kiss. “Rick,” she gasps, for the hundredth time. His name out of her mouth makes him leak a bit more inside her. “I’m- I’m-”
Rick hears himself chuckle. He draws his hips back just barely, just enough to give himself room to push into her. In the same motion that he does it, he speeds up his rubbing until he hears the wet sounds of her body, even filithier. “Yeah, I betcha are.” It’s whispered right up against her ear. He presses a soft kiss to the side of her face as he says it, watching down over her shoulder as the muscles in her back tense and strain, and as her ass sways. “G’head, baby. You go right on ahead and cum on my dick, there. Lemme see’ya.”
She gasps something into his skin, but he can’t make it out over the strong moan that warps the words. Then, like a bow, she pulls tight and releases. Rick feels it. She spasms around his dick, trying to take him inside of her like she never wants him to leave. A real surprised noise escapes her mouth, though, and her jaw works tightly, almost in disbelief. It’s so cute. Always so caught off guard by her own body. Rick has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from actually sobbing at the sensation, and still, that barely works. By the time she’s come back down, in quick, gasping breaths, he’s almost hyperventilating again.
Trying to catch some control of himself, he turns and presses more kisses into her skin. One, two, three, four, then so many more he loses track, against her temple, over her cheeks, her nose. Michonne grabs onto him a bit tighter. Her hips rise slightly, then move back down at the same time that he thrusts particularly hard up into her tightness. It takes her a few more seconds of breathing and letting him kiss her for her to calm down enough, but eventually, she manages it. Rick knows she has as she kisses him back, her lips wet and parted against his collarbone.
“Mm.” He hums a small, satisfied noise. Michonne hums as well, and he feels the vibrations as they leak and touch through him. “Fuck.”
He thinks she nods, or tries to at least, with how she’s tucked her head underneath his chin. He’s still rubbing her clit, teasing and playing with her, watching the way she tenses with sensitivity. She almost seems like she wants to pull him away, but she never does, just keeps taking it and searching out the little bits of pleasure through the too-strong shocks. “Fuck,” she echoes, on a particularly forceful rub. He’s pressing right up against her clit, spreading her with his other fingers to touch right on the little bundle of nerves. “So nice. Feels so nice.”
A bit animalistically, he groans his agreement. It’s insane, how much warmth is running through his body now, all sharp and zapping. Almost like…Rick hardly even knows how to describe it, but he knows that it’s a rare, drawn-out sensation that he’s only ever gotten before with her. Like the pleasure is tugging through him in a jolt, a straight line up from his dick to somewhere inside of him, his stomach, and then his chest. She’s touching every part of his body right now, entirely imprinting herself. Seriously. It startles him a little, enough for her to notice and pull back. Her eyes are wide and damp once he gets a look at her face, and dull with the weight of her orgasm. She stares at him for a few seconds. As always, he wonders what she’s seeing. Whatever it is, he knows it’s true and honest, more so than he could ever manage. Rick watches her too, nudging his nose against her jawline like some type of dog or something, trying to get her to pet him. Somehow, Michonne understands. He feels her hand slide those few inches up the back of his neck, until she’s tangling her fingers in his hair and scratching behind his ear. It melts him all the way down against her body.
Her hips rise again. Then again. Slowly, she begins to ride him, meeting his own movements in perfect time. He thinks he sees her hand tensing on the headrest out of the corner of his eye, but he’s too distracted by staring at her pretty, pretty face, her full lips, her round eyes. He can’t even settle on one place. Rapidly, he flicks his gaze up and down, side to side, trying to memorize everything he sees on her. “I love you.” It comes out soft and quiet. He hadn’t really meant to say it, but it’s rare that he ever has- that type of thing, he can’t keep it inside his head. It’s too strong.
Michonne smiles. “I love you.” Her touch moves off his hair, up over the side of his face, until she’s pressing her thumb gently into his cheek. Soothingly, she smooths down the hair there. “You’re so beautiful.”
Rick feels himself warm. He smiles back at her, though he only manages to keep with her eyes for a few short moments before he has to look away. Michonne’s grip on his face stops him. His chin is tilted back up, very firm, and then held in place to be observed. “Don’t go so shy, now,” she says, a bit teasingly parroting his words back to him. “You are, Rick.” Then, slow, he watches as she leans in closer to his face. The press of her lips to his is such a gentle thing, and yet, somehow, very firm as well. Even some smallness like this feels incredible, almost as good as the feeling of his dick moving inside her. She’s still fucking herself on him, with a bit more speed and a bit more strength, too. Something moves next to his thigh. When he looks down, her hand has disappeared from the headrest and is curling around the smooth plastic of the camera again. “You are. So beautiful.”
He knows what she’s getting at immediately. “Michonne,” he groans, a bit loudly, and a bit caught with arousal. “Come on.”
One more time, she hums under her breath. It’s an amused sound, slightly too amused for his liking. Another kiss is quickly peppered against his lips. “So handsome. Make such pretty faces.”
In just a few seconds, they’ve completely swapped around. Rick is weightless and weak underneath her, and already feeling himself loosen with embarrassment. The camera is raised a few inches higher, until she’s got it almost up to her face. She rolls her hips forward and grinds herself down onto him. A loud curse falls from his lips. His eyes fall closed.
The bright light burns his vision, even through his eyelids. They both hiss at the same time, him in some mix of pleasure and surprise, and her at…him, he thinks. The machine whirs and spits the picture out, and she shakes it rapidly before bringing it up to her face under the overhead light. As if seeing what she expected, she clicks her tongue. “You closed your eyes,” she says. Then, she flips the thing around to show him. Rick keeps his eyes closed, and he hears her giggle and feels her poke him in the cheek. “Oh, just look. It’s still a good picture.”
She pokes him again. One more time. Partly to get under her skin, and partly because he really is kinda embarrassed, Rick still doesn’t move. Five more seconds is all she gives him before she loses her patience and slows her movements down on his dick. He hears himself make a confused, sad sound in his throat, and automatically tries to make up for it by thrusting into her. With the Polaroid still in her hand, she moves to press down against his abdomen and force him still. It’s mean. Rick feels himself grow even harder and even closer to the edge. “Michonne,” he says, whinier than he’d meant to. She clenches down around him. Fuck, she doesn’t know how fucking good that feels. More wetness pools and drips out of her down the side of his dick, so filthy and hot that it makes him lightheaded. “Michonne.”
“Open your eyes, baby.”
Frustrated now, and not about to die on this stupid hill, Rick gives up and just obeys. She’s watching him, still smiling, looking very smug. Mercifully, she picks her rhythm back up. It jolts his fingers, which haven’t stopped moving on her clit for a single second. One more. She can give him one more; he knows she can.
Her hand moves off his stomach. Slowly, she raises the picture until it’s back in front of his face. It comes into focus a bit hazy in the low light, but Rick makes enough of it out to blush a bit deeper. His eyes are closed, as she’d said, but his mouth is hanging open, and his brows are drawn together tight. More sticky hair is falling over his forehead than he’d thought, messed around from her touch and his thrashing movements, no doubt. As he looks at himself, he feels her touch down his shoulder and then over his chest as well, until she’s thumbing at one of his nipples- really trying to rile him up, he thinks. It works. A bit sobbingly, he falls all the way forward into her breasts.
Michonne catches him. He’s really going at her now, at least, as much as he can with her weight on top of him and hardly anything to push off of. He hears her hum something soothing, right into his ear, and then feels her fingers tighten until she’s pinching him. “So handsome,” she says, again. “Fuck. Feels so good inside me, honey, gonna make me cum again.”
Very rapidly, he nods. He wants her to, so bad, more than he even wants himself to. He always wants her to, wants to watch her cum, and feel the shaking of her body against him. That picture, the one of her face, just a few seconds away from it, he’s gonna have to keep it in his pocket or something for the rest of his life. So he can look at her whenever he needs, and see himself bringing her pleasure. Excitedly, his fingers speed up on her clit again, until she’s gasping and squeezing around him. “Please, please. Fuck, need’ya so bad, need’ya to, please-”
Michonne moans her agreement right back at him. She’s real close, then. Real close. Her fingers tweak his nipple one more time, and her mouth presses into his hair. “Oh, Rick,” she gasps. “Come on. Want you to cum inside me. Want you inside me.”
He makes a noise that is foreign even to his own ears. One, two, three more times he thrusts up into her, and then, just as he feels the beginnings of her own orgasm, he’s falling right over the edge. She works it out of him mercilessly, bouncing on him as hard as she can. Rick hears himself gasp, feels his whole body go somewhere else, and his mind turn off. Michonne, Michonne, Michonne. Her name rings through him as the only thought he can summon, and then he’s filling her all the way up and feeling himself do it, pumping into her body. He never wants to leave, wants to stay like this forever, can’t breathe with it, can’t do anything. Michonne whines a beautiful, loud sound and grabs onto him like she doesn’t want him to ever go, either. Her touch is firm and certain, and something more of a hug than anything else.
She comes back to herself first. It’s a shorter orgasm for her after the second time. Rick needs at least thirty more seconds to remember how to move, and by then, all he can think to do is lick over her breasts again. Softly, she giggles. He takes one of her nipples into her mouth and closes his eyes, and just relaxes. It’s very soothing, and a bit strange, but he doesn’t care.
He can feel his cum inside her. This is his favourite part, always, feeling the mess they’ve made, feeling her pussy leaking and squeezing around him. Her body is tired, nudging against sleep. When she says his name, it’s a drowsy, half-awake sound. She spasms around him, and more wetness drips out of her. “Shouldn’t,” she tries to say, barely aware of herself. “Shouldn’t fall asleep.”
Rick hums right back. They shouldn’t, but he can’t speak with her breast in his mouth, and he can’t find the desire to pull back. It’ll be fine. The car’s hidden away behind the buildings, half in the forest. She feels so good, and he’s so tired. Fuck.
They both pass out like that, curled up in the backseat, nowhere close to comfortable- somehow, though, save for last night, it’s the best sleep he’s had in eight years. Their necks are both killing when they wake up the next morning, and he’s long slipped out of her, but fuck. The drowsy smile she gives him as she wakes up, the feeling of her pussy, wet against his thigh, her breasts in his face…Rick’s never been so happy.