PILLOW TALK…CONT'D

Summary: The same night, just a little later.

Michonne lay on her back. Rick is on his side, facing her, propped up on his elbow, head resting in his hand. He's looking down at her. The sheet covers the bottom half of their bodies. Breathing has settled, skin still tingles. She looks up at him, silently. There is no need for talking. The intensity of their second session was surprising, yet at the same time, not. Rick is a passionate man. It should be no wonder that his passion extends to all aspects of his life.

His fingers ghost down her torso, over her abdomen then back up between her breasts. He seems content to simply gaze at her, touch her. She is happy to allow it. He toys with her necklace. Adjusts the M-charm so that it sits in the hollow of her throat.

"You always wear this." His voice is no more than a grumble that sends a shiver right to her core. "Was it a gift?"

She nods, lowers her eyes. "Yeah." Chews her lip then says, "From my boyfriend."

Rick uses the pad of his index finger to circle the charm. "Must'a loved him a lot. You never take it off."

"Yeah. I loved him." She swallows. "But I loved what he gave me more." She glances at him. "My son."

His finger stills. Her heart is thumping so hard she swears everyone in Alexandria can hear it. She looks at him. She doesn't know what she expects to see. Confusion. Curiosity. Anger. All of the above? But he looks like a man who has just gotten a much sought after piece of a puzzle. Like everything about her suddenly makes so much more sense to him now.

"Tell me," he whispers.

Two words and they nearly unravel her. He could have asked her why she hadn't told him. Could have felt slighted because she kept something so important from him. But he doesn't. Tell me, is all he says and his tone is caught between a request and a question. She can say no. She knows this. But, those two words were just the right thing to say. And Rick doesn't always say or do the right thing. She knows this first hand. Michonne takes a shuddering breath.

"I feel like I was a different person back then…before, you know?"

He nods. "We all feel like that cause we all were different people."

She shakes her head. "No, I don't mean in a metaphorical way. I literally feel like that Michonne from before was like my sister, or a cousin, or a friend. Someone utterly separate from who and what I am now. When I first met Mike, I thought I'd hit the jackpot. He was handsome, intelligent, charming. He was comfortable in any crowd. At home in the hood or at the White House." She pauses, gathers her thoughts. "He had conflicting views though. Like he would march for equal rights. A woman's right to choose what to do with her body, equal pay as men and stuff like that. But in our relationship, I was the one to cook most times even though he was better at it than me. He handled the finances, but I was much better at that. Those were traditional gender roles, see?" She snorts, shakes her head.

"When I got pregnant, somehow that woman's right to choose went out the window. We couldn't even discuss abortion. Not that I wanted one, but what happened to it being my body, my choice? All the things he preached. At the time, those things didn't seem important. They were just stuff I teased him about. His conflicting views when it came to me. I trusted him. Why wouldn't I? Like I said, he was smart and capable and I was okay with him being the man"—she made air quotes around man—"of the family and all that entailed. I had opinions and I voiced them, but I yield to him most of the time. He knew better…and then the world went to hell.

Rick's hand moved down to her abdomen, rested there.

"Me, Mike, our son Andre, and Mike's friend Terry got caught up in the chaos. We stayed in the house until we couldn't stay any longer. Heard about a refugee camp and headed there. Pretty soon, I started to see that Mike was not equipped for this world. He did a lot of complaining. Not a lot of thinking. Around us, people started getting wind of how to kill the walkers. Take out the brain. I kept saying we needed weapons. Mike was appalled. 'You just gonna kill people, Michonne?' It was like his eyes weren't working, or his brain. I mean, we are walking through the streets of Atlanta, people are being eaten and he thinks we should just run away." She shakes her head at the memory.

"You can only run so far and then you have to fight. Terry was no help. He was an idiot before everything went down. Then, when we are about a good fifteen miles outside of the refugee camp, we come across this weapons store. It's been looted, of course, but I still want to go inside. Mike is adamant that it's a stupid idea. I go in anyway. He has Andre and the three of them wait outside while I go in."

"He let you go in by yourself?"

She nods, smooths a hand over the muscle jumping in Rick's jaw.

"It's where I found the katana. Most of the things were gone, but the sword must've been mounted on the wall as decoration. It was on the floor behind the counter under plaster and other garbage. I nearly missed it. But the edge of the scabbard was sticking out and I tripped over it. When I pulled that sword out, it seemed to hum in my hands. Then I heard Mike and Terry yelling my name. I ran back to the door and three walkers were coming toward the entrance. Mike and Terry took Andre and ran."

"They left you!"

"Yup. I wasn't even mad that they left me. The only thought I had in my head was get my son away from this. If I died I didn't want him to see and if there were more walkers lurking I didn't want him in danger."

Rick closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh.

"I know, Rick," she whispers. "You wouldn't have done that. You wouldn't have left me. But even now, I'm not mad they left. Protecting Andre is always going to be the right decision. Now today, three walkers is nothing. Back then, I knew I was dead. I learned quickly that wielding that katana is not as easy as it looks. The sword got stuck in the first one's skull. I yanked so hard the head came off and was stuck on the blade. Nearly cut my hand in two trying to get that thing off. After that, I wasted a lot of time stabbing places other than the head. By the time I killed the other two and ran out of there, Mike and Terry were a good mile ahead of me. I caught up with them and just started killing everything that wasn't alive. Getting away from those three walkers with no help…I guess it flipped a switch in me." She shrugs.

"I was done deferring to Mike. At the refugee camp, they ran through supplies pretty quickly. So I joined the groups going out to scavenge. The more I left, the more self-reliant I became, the more Mike complained. He wasn't even complaining about me leaving so much. Just complaints in general. 'Why is this happening? What are we gonna do? Where else can we go? Is the government just gonna leave us like this? They can't do that.' Just a lot of pointless whining that grated on my nerves." She takes a deep breath and prepares for the next part.

"I started thinking that I needed to leave the camp. That Mike and Terry were dead weight and I would be better off on my own with Andre." She licks her dry lips. "I started secreting away a few can goods and other supplies. The more I left camp, left Andre with Mike, the more anxious I grew. I told myself it was just the stress of the world getting worse. He's Andre's father. He'll protect our baby. Nothing is more important, right?"

She looks at Rick, knows he knows the truth of that. Nothing is more important than protecting your children. His face blurs as tears fills her eyes.

"See, I trusted Mike. That's what I told myself. It was a lie and I knew it was a lie."

Rick takes her hand, squeezes it. Gives her strength to continue.

"My instincts are hardly ever wrong. It's just back then, I didn't trust them like I do now. My stomach was in knots the entire time I was out on that run. I wanted to go back to camp. Nearly got myself bitten because I was so preoccupied with getting back. I saw the gates down and I knew." Tears slip from her eyes, roll back into her ears. "My baby. He was sweet, and smart. Smarter than most three year olds." She smiles sadly. "He would have made it with me. He would have lived with me. He would be like Carl, I think. Adaptable and strong. But I failed him." Her chin quivers has she tries to contain the roar of sorrow that claws up her throat. "The adults in his life failed him. It was more important to his father to get high than to stay alert."

Rick hisses between his teeth. She sure that if Mike was still alive, Rick would kill him all over again.

She sniffs. "My son paid for my weakness." Her voice is low and raspy. "I didn't leave when I should have because I was afraid. I thought I needed Mike and it kept me there long after I should've left."

"That wasn't your fault," Rick grumbles, thumbs a tear from the corner of her eye. "No, you didn't need him. Hell, you don't need me, but—"

"I do need you." Her eyes lock with his. She sits up, twists on her side so she can face him fully. "I need you, Rick. You, Carl, Judith…you anchor me. Tether me to this world because if it wasn't for you I'd…I'd…" She doesn't know what she would do, but she knows it wouldn't be good, wouldn't be healthy. She places a hand on Rick's chest, over his heart. "You are home to me. I need you."

She leans forward, touches her lips to his. Takes his mouth in a slow, sweet kiss. She crawls over him, presses him back on the bed. Straddles him. Deepens the kiss, tastes Rick's moan. His hands slides up her sides, over her back. She breaks the kiss, looks down on him. He is beautiful. He is hers. She takes his hand and places it over her heart.

"Home."

He swallows. "Home." He pulls her down again, but before he kisses her he asks, "You okay?"

She gives him a small smile. "Yeah." And she is okay. There will always be an ache in her heart where Andre lives. She fears that she will one day forget his face. She has no pictures of him, but she will never forget the feel of him. The smell of him. The sound of his laughter. His smooth cheek against hers. She will hold on to those things until her last breath.

Rick palms the side of her face. She leans in, kisses his hand. Kisses his lips. Sucks his bottom lip into her mouth. He sucks her top lip. The kiss escalates. Rick laces his fingers into the back of her hair. His other hand slides down, grips her bottom. She feels him growing erect between her legs, grinds her warm wet center against it. Rick breaks the kiss, arches his back, groans. Michonne does it again and is rewarded with an iron grip on her hips. He give her what can only be described as a warning look. She smirks. Does it again. This time, he meets her thrust, plunges inside of her. His eyes roll, but it's nothing to the pained-pleasure expression he makes when she start to ride him.

She sits up, one hand on his stomach, the other behind her on his thigh. She rocks her hips back and forth. Stares at him. It is her turn to fuck him and she does just that. Rick's eyes are wide. His mouth is open like he is trying to find words but he has forgotten the English language. He seems stunned. In awe. Bewildered. Michonne is no stranger to feeling power. She wields a katana like an extension of her arm. Takes down walkers and men alike. But she has never felt power like she feels now, sitting astride Rick Grimes, rendering him deaf and dumb.

He squeezes her hips, stills her motion and takes a huge gulping breath. Had he been unable to breathe? She is on the verge of asking when he sits up, looks at her like she is a new and exotic creature, then kisses her. They wrap their arms around each other, face to face, mouth to mouth. Michonne begins to move again. Rick slides his hand down her back, grips her ass, helps her bucking. He dips his head, takes one of her breasts into his mouth. His tongue on her nipple send her to another world. She arches backward, head almost touching the mattress. Rick holds her small waist, bends with her, kisses his way over to the other breast.

It won't be long now. Every inch of her is on fire. She sits up again, pushes Rick back down to the bed and leans over him. Her hands lay flat on his chest and she begins grinding deeply. He gets that look again. Stunned, bewildered, awe. This time though he is breathing. Raspy and labored. Her breaths are coming in strangled gasps now too. Rick's fingers dig into her bottom, sure to leave a bruise even on her dark skin, but she doesn't care. She feels it now. The climax coming for her sure and swift. She hears the moans escaping her throat, getting louder. Hears Rick's guttural groans, knows they are probably too loud but she would be hard-pressed to stop now if an entire herd of walkers shambled in. Her orgasm jerks her pelvis forward just as Rick's causes him to clamp down on her hips, holding her in place as his erection pulses inside of her.

Michonne tips her head back, dreads brushing against the small of her back as she rides out the ripples of ecstasy. When she starts to feel dizzy, she slumps forward onto Rick's heaving chest. He doesn't seem to have the energy to lift his arms off the bed.

"Oh my God," Michonne whispers.

Rick swallows. "I'm never leaving this bed. I think I'm paralyzed."

She laughs, manages to kiss somewhere close to his mouth. She slides off him. Flat on her stomach, she turns her head on the pillow to face him. One hand across his chest, her leg curls over his. With what seems like a herculean effort, Rick poorly covers their cooling bodies with the sheet. His hand lands on her ass. That is it, that is all. They fall into a quick, deep sleep.

A/N: Hope you all liked this installment. There is a little more to come. I don't know how much more love scenes there will be…sorry, but I'll see if I can think of something. Thanks for reading and reviewing. I love seeing new reviews. They make me smile so wide. Also, someone asked me why I write in present tense—most people do past tense. I write in past tense as well and it's the easiest form for me to use, but I am simultaneously working on one of my original novels that is written in first person present tense. So because my brain has a hard time switching back and forth, everything I write for the time being will be in present tense to make sure my novel stays how I want it. Hope that explains.

Take care and thanks again for reading!