A/N: Welp. Since I have little interest in TWD tonight, I figured I'd post this now, haha. Another request! Which actually came in abouttt a year ago, and I'm a piece of shit because I completely forgot about it. I was scrolling through my fic request tag the other day and saw it and I knew I had to finish it. So anon, if you're still around, I hope you enjoy! This is gonna be a two-parter because it was just getting way too long, but I hope to have it done super soon! -Ash

"I'm so exhausted," Maggie huffed, claiming a seat at the Grimes' dining table while she waited for her friend to join her. "I don't know if it's just the baby or the weather, but after about an hour out there, I am just done."

Michonne shortly followed behind her, toting a tray of hot water and tea, setting it on the table as she smiled sympathetically at her buddy. "It's probably both."

"Well then I'm ready for this to be over," she rolled her eyes. "I used to really enjoy farming. It was a perfect escape. And now I totally dread it."

"Yeah, pregnancy will definitely make you hate things you used to love," Michonne smirked. "But it'll pass."

"I'm over it." She began to pour hot water for the two of them, while Michonne placed a homemade scone on each of their plates.

"If you need some help, I'm always here, you know."

She smiled back at her warmly; thankfully. "I do know that."

"Or you can always tell Rick you need a break," Michonne offered, her eyebrows raised questioningly. She was certain Maggie was too proud for such a thing - they were alike in that way - but she had to put it out there. "Maternity leave didn't cease to exist just because the world did."

"Glenn said the same thing," she immediately shook her head. "So I'll tell you the same thing I told him: You know that's not gonna happen."

Michonne glanced back at her in amusement as she steeped her tea. "I do."

"I swear I didn't come over here to complain." She let out a long, exasperated exhale, running her hand over her tired face. "What's goin' on with you today?"

"You totally come over here to complain," she yawned. "Which is fine, because I was gonna stop by your house on my way back from the pantry to complain myself."

Maggie held back a smile, quickly chewing and swallowing a piece of her pastry before asking, "About someone, or something?"

"Some thing."

"Dammit," she sighed. "I miss the days when we had all the gossip. We've gotten boring in our old age, Michonne."

"Speak for yourself."

"I'm serious. We're just boring and married now, and we suck."

"I'm not married," Michonne reminded her teasingly.

"Close enough."

"Even so, I'm quite happy with my boring life. After everything we've been through the past couple years, we needed some boring."

"Can't argue with you there," Maggie had to admit. She dipped her scone into her drink, and took another bite as she gazed back at her friend. "So what'd you wanna complain about?"

"Let me preface this by saying that it's kind of ridiculous," Michonne started as she sipped her tea.

"Even better."

"So…" She sighed, shaking her head, her eyes rolling up to the ceiling at the thought of what she was about to reveal, "Rick and I are in the middle of this bet," she confessed, "and I'm very much starting to regret it."

Maggie's bright green eyes widened as she set her mug back on the table. "Tell me this bet isn't over what I think it is."

"That… depends on what you think it is?"

"I'm thinkin' it's the one where you wager on who can go without sex longer?" She winced when she thought of the time she'd done that with Glenn, back at the prison. Longest week of her life. "Tell me it's not that."

Michonne wrinkled her nose and groaned wearily. "That's the one."

"Michonne!"

"I know!"

"Why would you do this to us," Maggie whined. "You know I'm in no position to get laid right now. How dare you willingly give up your source of regular sex?"

"I know," she repeated, hanging her head in shame. "But in my defense, I did not think Rick would last this long. Not even close to this long. And now I'm stuck, because there is no fucking way I'm losing this bet," she said through gritted teeth. "But god, I miss him."

"So... you thought he was gonna give in easily?" She narrowed her eyes, confused, as she picked another scone from the collection between them. "We are talking about Rick Grimes, aren't we?"

"I mean, not easily, but... certainly easier than this."

"How long has it been?" she wondered.

Michonne sighed, hating to even say the words out loud; not wanting to admit how far this whole thing had actually gone. "Eleven days."

"Eleven?"

"Eleven."

"Eleven days..."

Michonne shared in Maggie's disbelief, given the fact that she and Rick were the type to get it in twice a day sometimes. "And what's pissing me off the most? I'm at the point where I wanna pull my hair out, and Rick is just walking around all blasé about it." She rolled her eyes again, absentmindedly breaking her pastry into tiny pieces and stuffing them into her mouth. "I don't understand how he's doing this."

"Maybe he's been... takin' care of himself?" Maggie offered.

"According to our rules, that's not allowed," she shook her head. "And I don't think he would cheat."

"Jesus..."

"I know." Michonne exhaled in frustration once more, staring into her teacup as if it contained the solution to her problem. "I'm so over this."

"Then just lose," she shrugged. "When Glenn and I did this, I just gave in. I'm still here."

"This, coming from the same woman that's seven months pregnant and won't give herself a break in the summer heat?"

Maggie chuckled at the fact that she was being rather hypocritical. "That's different."

"It's exactly the same," she retorted. "Pride is a bitch."

"So is not gettin' laid..."

It was Michonne's turn to laugh, as truer words could not have been spoken. After two years without sex, she knew all too well just how bad it could get, and what a relief it'd been to not have that problem since she and Rick got together. "That's true, too," she granted. "But there has to be some way to end this without me being the loser."

"Loser is the first one to consent?"

Michonne nodded as she took another sip of her tea. "Yep."

"And is there a rule against nudgin' him in that direction? Maybe just sit in his lap and see what happens?"

"I don't know that that wouldn't kill me first," she giggled. "But I get where you're going."

"All's fair in sex and war?" Maggie grinned mischievously.

Michonne replied with an equally impish smile, hoping this would somehow be the answer to her problems. She and Rick were so annoyingly strong-willed, this bet could go on forever if she didn't do something. And since waiting him out didn't seem to be working, maybe – hopefully – her boyfriend just needed a little push. She held up her mug in salute to her best friend and her bright idea. "Wish me luck."

It was later that night, once dinner was complete and the kids were off to bed, Michonne decided that she would make her move. As she washed up the remaining pots and pans from Rick's cooking, she had time to think about what could work on someone like him - a man with the apparent willpower of a saint, from what she could tell. She couldn't be too obvious about what she was doing, or he would only dig in more.

"Rick," she called out to him as she finished putting away the last few dishes. She could see him in the living room, staring at something on their laptop.

"Yeah," he answered, sounding distracted.

If she didn't know any better, she would think he was looking at porn. "Did you want any dessert? We have some pound cake, cherry sorbet, or there are still a couple of the popsicles I made Sunday."

It took a moment for him to decide, and after a few beats, he replied, "I'll have some cake."

"Yeah, I bet you will," Michonne muttered to herself as she retrieved a small plate for him. She swiftly moved around the kitchen, uncovering the delicacy Carol had baked for them, and prepared a generous slice for her boyfriend, complete with a fork and a napkin. She grabbed something for herself and padded into the living room, where he'd been waiting. "So what are we watching tonight," she questioned, handing over his dessert.

"Thank you," he returned, closing his laptop to give her his attention. He watched her pass by, a popsicle stuffed in her mouth as she pulled her hair into a high ponytail, and he instantly felt his dick move. It was an unexpected response, to say the least, and he inhaled sharply at the sensation. "Shit," he whispered to himself.

Michonne pulled the frozen treat from her mouth as she sat down beside him, staring over at him suspiciously. "What's wrong with you?"

He had to play it off, as he couldn't let her know that ten days without sex was clearly getting to him in the worst way. "Nothin'," he shook his head and began to pile cake into his mouth. "I was just thinkin' of somethin' we could watch."

"Oh," she smirked, beginning to lick her dessert. She wondered if her plan had already started working before she even sat down. The phallic nature of a popsicle, paired with her tying her hair up - something she always did when she gave him a blow job - was bound to remind him of all those times she'd sucked him off. She was counting on that. But she had barely even gotten started yet and he was acting strangely. She was starting to think maybe this wouldn't be so difficult after all. "So you wanna keep going with The Wire?" she posed, beginning to lick at the dripping dessert.

Rick purposely kept his eyes on his plate as he nodded back in reply. "All right."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," he said, stuffing his mouth with another bite of the apple butter pound cake. He grabbed the remote to turn on the television, but Michonne had gotten up to find the next DVD in the set, and she was still sucking on that popsicle like it was about to cum in her mouth. Rick couldn't look away at that point, watching the way she rolled her tongue around the length of it, then pushed it all the way into her mouth. As she walked back toward the sofa, he noticed some of the strawberry juice had dribbled down her chin, and he nearly stopped breathing altogether.

"You all right?" she wondered once more, taking her seat again. She sat closer to him then, as they usually ended up cuddling when they watched TV together. But this time, Rick moved away from her when she drew near. "What the hell are you doing?"

He only smirked as he sat his laptop and empty cake plate on their coffee table. "I know what you're doin', Michonne. And it's not gonna work."

"What am I doing?" she frowned, feigning innocence. She took a bite off the top of her popsicle and smiled at him sweetly.

"Just get on your side of the couch," he instructed, pointing to the end opposite of him.

"Rick..."

"Don't talk to me until you finish that thing."

Michonne laughed out loud, realizing just how hot and bothered he was by her little show, and it only made her want to tease him more. "So you really don't miss this?"

He sighed again, trying to force himself not think about it. Her hot, wet mouth, deep-throating his cock. The way she massaged his balls as she blew him. Of course he missed it. He glanced over at her, but had to instantly look away, for fear of giving in. "All I know is that you put me up to this, and there's no fuckin' way I'm lettin' you win."

Michonne rolled her eyes as she defeatedly bit off the last piece of her popsicle from its stick. It was clear that this was definitely not going to be easy.

After another long, sexless night, Rick awoke the next morning feeling more frustrated than ever. Their little bet had moved into its twelfth day, and it was threatening to be the death of him. He wasn't sure how much longer he was going to last, especially if Michonne was going to play dirty the way she did the night before. Trying to keep sex off his mind was difficult enough, but ignoring an obvious ploy to get him to break was a whole other ballgame. He obviously needed to get to her before she could get to him, and he had been waiting all night for the opportunity to do so.

Meanwhile, Michonne had already rolled out of bed at her usual time of 6:00am, and she was in the bathroom, readying herself for her impending day. Or trying to, anyway. She stood at the bathroom sink for minutes on end, supposedly brushing her teeth, but mostly just thinking about Rick. The night before, she had a dream that they finally ended their silly bet and it was the best sex they'd ever had in their ten months together. There was rain, and sloppy kissing, and car fucking, and it was pretty close to perfect. But alas, it was just a dream, and she was still horny as ever, clinging desperately to her pride. But as she stood there extending last night's fantasy into a daydream, there was a hard knock at the bathroom door that thankfully startled her from her wandering thoughts.

"Michonne?" It was Rick.

"Yeah?" Without another word, he pushed the door open and stepped inside with her, and she smiled at the sight of him. He was pretty damn adorable, all disheveled and groggy, with his curls matted to his forehead. "Hey."

"Hey." He planted a soft kiss on her shoulder as he moved past her, headed for the shower.

Michonne looked on in confusion as he proceeded to turn on the shower water as if she weren't still occupying the bathroom. "What's… happening here?"

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked, turning back to her as he pulled off his t-shirt. "I have a meeting with Glenn in fifteen minutes. I'll be quick."

She frowned when his taut torso came into view and she turned back for the sink, continuing to brush her teeth. "You should've woken up earlier then," she mumbled.

"I forgot that you like to wake up at the crack of dawn."

"You are not about to blame this on me," she retorted, pointing her toothbrush in his direction. "I get up at the same time every day."

"I know," Rick smirked to himself. In fact, he was counting on that as he knocked on the bathroom door. "I also knew you wouldn't mind."

"Oh, you just know me so well."

He slowly stepped out of his boxer shorts and tested the water one last time before turning back to Michonne. "You think I don't?"

Her breath caught in her throat when Rick faced her fully naked. And while she only had a split second to take him in before he stepped into the shower stall, it was more than enough to make her lightheaded when she was already starving. She'd missed that body of his more than words could say; something about the way he stood, all cocky and bowlegged, made her actually weak in the knees. She wasn't even sure of what they'd been talking about anymore. "What?" she asked, swallowing hard.

"What?" he called back.

"Nothing." She pulled out her floss in another feeble attempt to concentrate on herself, but her eyes had drifted back to that steamy shower, and she was both relieved and annoyed that the fog was concealing most of Rick's body. The silhouette might've been even more tantalizing, if that were possible.

"You know, I've been thinkin'," Rick called out to her over the running water, "remember how we used to have parties whenever new people arrived here?"

Michonne had a mouth full of floss but she responded, nearly unintelligibly, "Yeah..."

"Well we haven't had any new arrivals lately, so we haven't had any parties lately."

"Uh huh..."

"So what do you think about having some kinda get-together for the Safe Zone sometime soon?" he wondered. "Maybe some sort of cookout?"

Michonne glanced in his direction, much to her dismay, as she ended up getting an eyeful of Rick's dick, after she tried so hard to put it out of her mind. "What?" she asked, once again.

"Are you all right over there?"

"I'm fine," she grimaced, feeling rather shaky on the concept of being fine at that moment. "I just didn't hear what you said."

He pushed open the shower door, giving Michonne the full view she was so vehemently trying to avoid. "I asked if you think we should have a party sometime soon. In the next week or so, maybe?"

She bit her bottom lip unexpectedly hard, dropping her floss to the floor in the process. His dick wasn't even erect, but it was staring at her, and she was finding it impossible not to stare back. She needed to get out of there. "Whatever you want," she returned, her hand already fumbling with the doorknob. "Yeah."

"You're sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, it's just..." Her sentence trailed into silence as she escaped the increasingly steamy room, leaving Rick behind, in all his naked glory. "...hot in there."

Rick couldn't help but smile devilishly to himself as his girlfriend slammed the door behind her.

"Hello?" Rick stepped back into his home after a long, hot day under the sun, somewhat surprised to find the place was just about silent. Almost eerily so, considering he usually found Carl laid across the couch playing some video game or another, while Judith sat on the floor giggling, thinking she was playing along. Instead, the place was empty and spotless, and all he could hear was the faint sound of something whirring in the background - a fan, he figured.

"I'm here," Michonne chirped, her voice reaching the front door from the kitchen. "Hey."

"Hey," he called back. From where he stood, he could see her at the sink, splashing her face with water, and given the heat wave they were experiencing, he was strongly considering joining her. "Where are the kids?"

"Carl is spending the night at Ron's, and… Maggie wanted to hang out with Judith," she explained, grabbing a dishtowel to wipe her face. "I said she could keep her for the night if she wanted to, but… I have a feeling she won't want to," she grinned, turning to face her boyfriend.

He nodded as he entered the kitchen to join her, noting that the oven was on, dinner presumably inside, but that wasn't what had him hot under the collar. It was Michonne, standing there in a white tank top, with water trickled down the front so he could easily see that she wasn't wearing a bra. And in those tight pants she was so fond of wearing, she might as well have not been wearing any panties either. "What's for dinner?" he asked, attempting to look anywhere but in in her direction. Her nipples were starting to perk up, which always turned him on beyond reason, and he knew he was going to be a dead man soon.

"We're having Côtelette de volaille à la Kiev," she answered proudly, considering she'd done the extensive prep work, got it into the oven, and cleaned the kitchen, all before Rick made it home. As far as she was concerned, she deserved to win this bet just for that. "Or as you may know it, Chicken Kiev."

Rick sighed at the fact that she had the nerve to speak French, knowing just how much he loved it. It was bad enough he was on the verge of combustion, and here she was, casually throwing this in his face over her wet t-shirt. She was really going all out tonight. "I don't know what either of those are," he replied, heading for the refrigerator.

"Seriously?"

"Never had it before."

"Well you'll like it," she promised, watching him saunter to their fridge. "It's essentially just chicken and garlic and butter. The butter squirts everywhere…"

He took another deep, tense breath at the mere mention of squirting, his mind going haywire with dirty thoughts, and he suddenly forgot why he'd walked over there. "Sounds good," was all he could say in return.

"Hey, while we're waiting for dinner, I thought I could give you a haircut," she declared, moving across the large space to meet him. As much as she liked his curls long, especially in the back, they were starting to get a bit out of hand. "You look like the guy that showed up at Alexandria a year ago," she grinned, combing her fingers through the curls at his nape.

He smirked at the memory while he felt comforted by her soft touch. "At least I don't have the beard."

"Well yeah, you wouldn't be living in my house if you did," she joked. She left a quick kiss on his cheek, realizing they hadn't properly greeted one another yet, and then she patted his back. "Come. It's all set up in the bathroom."

"You sure you wanna do this now?" He reluctantly followed after her, but he knew that this was going to be the most torturous haircut of his life. Her hairdressing generally came with close contact and her breasts in his face for prolonged periods of time. Which was why they usually ended up fucking right there in the bathroom before she could finish. And now, because of this stupid bet, he would have to just sit there and take it.

"Oh, I'm sure," Michonne was grinning. She led him to their downstairs bathroom, where, indeed, she had a chair set up just in front of the sink, along with her equipment – a razor, shears, combs, shampoo, and a towel, along with their iPod dock for music.

Rick swallowed visibly at the sight – despite knowing it was all an elaborate trap, it was still going to be difficult not to fall right in. He figured his best move was probably to just play along. And in truth, he was rather impressed that she'd gotten all of this ready in addition to preparing dinner and cleaning up and likely a hundred other things he was unaware of. He liked this homemaking thing she'd taken on almost as much as he enjoyed watching her kick ass outside the house. "What aren't you good at?" he wondered out loud, already moving to claim his seat.

"I'm bad at losing," she quipped, immediately onto his game. By the time he got comfortable, she was already leaned over him, turning on the water as she ran her fingers through the top of sweat-dampened hair. "Tilt your head back," she instructed.

He did as he was told, lifting his head so that it settled into the basin beneath him, but mostly, he'd ended up getting a gander at her tits jiggling beneath her shirt as she lathered shampoo in her hands. He quickly closed his eyes before he found himself in a trance, but the damage was already done. He was already envisioning having them in his mouth as she fucked him in that very chair, and his dick was responding to the enticing image. "Fuck," he quietly sighed.

"What's wrong?" she casually asked, though she could guess the answer when she looked down and saw his eyes squeezed shut.

"It's nothin'."

"Is the water too hot?"

"Water's good," he mumbled. Of course, considering how hot he was, he likely wouldn't have noticed one way or the other.

Michonne smirked at his terse response as she went on to shampoo his hair, working the suds through his long curls as he twisted beneath her touch. "So how was your day?"

Rick opened his eyes to respond, because he always looked at her when they spoke with one another, but he instantly regretted it when he got the exact same view he had been trying to avoid. He covered his eyes with his hand and tried to picture innocuous things like puppies and flowers and literally anything but Michonne's delicious glistening skin under his tongue as he licked her in spots that would make her squirm. "Maybe we shouldn't talk while we do this."

"All right," she shrugged. Still amused, she continued to the next step of rinsing his hair, massaging the soap from his scalp while he let out a series light moans in response. She hadn't even gotten to the haircut yet, and she could tell she was driving him just a little bit crazy. She only hoped he was getting hard too, so maybe she could win this bet once and for all.

He sat there silently as she lifted his head to towel-dry his hair. She seemed to be moving in purposely slow motion, patting his head in long, soft strokes as though she was working a different head than the one on his neck. He was generally turned on by her touch anyway, but in his current state, it was utterly aphrodisiacal. "Should probably make this quick so dinner doesn't burn," he suggested.

"Don't worry, I've got it on a timer." She lightly tapped his shoulder, silently directing him to turn his chair facing the mirror, and she draped the towel over his shoulders. And as she began to comb through his hair, she couldn't help but notice the pained expression on his face, which made her laugh out loud. "You look miserable, Rick."

He finally allowed himself to open his eyes, knowing she was standing behind him, but those perfect breasts were still taunting him in the mirror's reflection. "I'm fine," he insisted, though unable to stop himself from licking his lips.

"You could end this all by just giving in," she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes at her peppy tone, which only made him want to double down in his stubbornness. "You could stand here and cut my hair naked," he contended, being purposely provocative. "I'm not losin' this bet, Michonne."

She quirked an eyebrow at him and his defiant tone, sorely tempted to test that theory. Considering he was aroused while she was fully – albeit strategically – clothed, she was genuinely curious whether his willpower was that strong. Because she was certain hers wasn't. "I hate how stubborn you are," she commented, beginning to snip away at the back of his hair.

"Yeah, well. Pot meet kettle," he smirked. His eyes stayed on her as she combed through his curls in sections, trimming inches from them swiftly and skillfully. "How short are you cutting it?" He reached back to feel his hair, noting that her scissors seemed to be moving rather quickly back there.

"Hey," she swatted his hand with her comb and then circled the chair so that she was facing him. "You should know that I know what I'm doing by now," she chided him, carefully examining the top of his head.

"It just sounded like a lot of cutting." He grinned at how solemn she'd suddenly become, obviously taking her job seriously, and he tried his best to do the same, keeping his eyes on her face as she moved in to part his hair. But she had gotten so close, she was practically straddling him, and his gaze drifted back to her décolletage, having a perfect view down her tank top, all while inhaling her scrumptious cocoa butter scent. Before he knew what was happening, his hands were on her hips and pulling her into his lap.

Michonne immediately stopped fussing with his hair, looking down on him while he looked down her shirt, his face so close she could feel his facial hair against her skin. And she could feel his bulge between her legs, taunting her as it went rock hard under her weight. She let out a light gasp, because this was tempting as fuck, and she hated how much she wanted to give in at that moment. And while they hadn't actually established a rule about a thing like this, she still felt like it had to go against them. "Rick," she swallowed hard, her fingers squeezing the wet curls at his nape.

He rolled his neck upward, his lips grazing her chest as he lifted his head to gaze at her beautiful face, glistening with the sheen of sweat. It was impossibly hot in their home, both literally and now figuratively, thanks to the sexual tension between them. "Yeah?"

She inhaled again, trying desperately to take her mind off the fact that this could be the end of this ridiculous bet, that she could get laid in time for dinner, if she would just give up. But she shook those thoughts away in favor of her pride, and she moved in close to whisper in his ear. "Unless you're giving in, I need you to let me up."

Rick could only smile in reply, because on some level, he really loved her tenacity, even if he hated it in the moment. Of course, that was the danger of falling in love with someone just like himself. He released her from his grip, allowing her to resume the haircut, much to his dismay, while her tits went back to bouncing in his face. Her nipples were about as hard as he was, protruding through the fabric of her shirt, and he wanted nothing more than to suck them out of it, devouring her dinner. "How much longer?"

"I don't know," Michonne frowned, frustratedly flipping his hair out of her way. She knew he was referring to the haircut, which she was trying her best to speed through at that point. Because she knew she couldn't stand over him much longer, not when the imprint of his dick in his jeans was unavoidable - his erect length pressed against his left thigh, the outline of the head clear as day. She was literally salivating as she tried and failed not to look, and she had no idea how she was going to get through dinner, much less the rest of the night, without jumping on top of him. But she knew she was damn sure going to try.