A/N This is my chapter for the round robin titled Room 2469, for the We're The Ones Who Write blog. Rick and Michonne have a yearly tradition of returning to the same hotel room to celebrate their anniversary. I had year 5. You can read the entire story at their ff page with all of the other chapters by some amazing writers. Check it out!

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"Michonne, we've been gone an hour. I'm not calling her." Rick cupped his wife's cheek, trying his best to assuage her worries with a tender look, his other hand offering a gentle squeeze of her ass. "We've got twenty three more of 'em, let's make the most of it."

"I just want to make sure he's taking the bottle," she said, feeling the tingling start in her breasts at just the thought of her baby feeding without her.

He reached around her and slid the key card into the slot on the hotel room door, listening for the double beep that welcomed them to their much needed night away. "You watched him take one before we left. Please try to relax? We only do this once a year."

She offered him a forced smile, fighting her inclination to call the whole thing off and rush back home. Her husband however, was looking extremely handsome in his persuasiveness, as he leaned over her with a playful pout, and now she was beginning to feel a tingling in another part of her body; one that hadn't made an appearance in awhile. It was all very confusing, and she sighed heavily at the conundrum.

They needed this, she decided. Having a newborn was exhausting and draining, and though it was a welcome one, the pregnancy had been a complete surprise, giving them very little time to adjust their lives to accommodate for such a shift. The very thing that led them to their happy little accident, their healthy sexual relationship, had suffered the most because of it.

Rick pushed the door open behind her and she backed into the room with revived excitement, gearing up for the moment when she would lay eyes on their annual getaway. A big grin made its way to her face as she spun around to take it in, giddiness beginning to push out the apprehension that had been lodged in her chest. When she finally got a good look at the room, however, her grin turned into a frown. "It's different," she said, scanning the unfamiliar furnishings that now sat like strangers in a room she had memorized as well as her own.

Rick trailed his fingers along her waist as he passed her, tossing their luggage on the bed. "Musta redecorated," he said as he plopped down beside the suitcase and removed his jacket.

"I guess," she said. She took a few steps around the room, surveying the new modern artwork hanging on the walls and the overstuffed chairs situated by the window where two classic wing backs had sat before.

"Come over here," he said, reaching a hand out to her.

She walked across the room and came to stand before him with her hands on her hips.

"Closer." He pulled her into him, parting his knees so she could step between them.

"I can't believe the last time we were here we made him," she said, rubbing a hand absently over her belly that still hadn't returned to its former taut condition. Rick noticed the gesture and pressed his lips over her fingers, his hands kneading her backside indulgently. "Now, a year later, our whole lives are different. It's surreal. I barely remember life before him." He looked back up at her as she continued to take in the state of the room with a pensive look on her face.

"You wanna call?" he asked, a smile over taking his lustful eyes.

She nodded, with a guilty grin.

"Alright," he sighed, checking his watch. "We've got dinner reservations in thirty minutes anyway. Give your mom a call and I'll unpack a little."

…

Michonne's usual sexy, rich laughter had transformed into girlish giggles as she sat across the candle lit table from him, sipping her wine. Rick leaned back in his chair, watching her amusedly.

"Normally I'd suggest you slow down a little bit," he drawled, his tongue swiping his lower lip as he took in her mirth. "But I'm happy you're havin' a good time."

"I'm having a very good time," she said, leaning forward across the table and flirtatiously batting her eyelashes at him.

After a successful call to her mother, who assured her Carl had eaten, napped, and been generally happy since they left, she had started to loosen up. She held her glass in one hand, her other draped across the table where the waiter had just removed her empty plate, and she let her elbows press against the sides of her ample cleavage in an unnecessary attempt at drawing his attention. She already had it.

"You want dessert?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he watched her toy with him. She shook her head slowly, her eyes trained on his, and he felt her bare foot travel up the inside of his thigh before settling in his lap. He quickly took it in his hand, squeezing her toes to stop their mischief, afraid he wouldn't be able to walk out of the restaurant properly if she kept going.

He brought his own glass to his lips, quickly draining the short tumbler of amber colored liquor, and swiveled his head back and forth, searching for the waiter.

"This was a good idea," she said, finishing her wine and setting her chin in her hand.

Rick caught the attention of their server and held a hand up, signing the air with an invisible pen to let him know he wanted the check, stat. Michonne was happy, relaxed and obviously feeling as sexy as she looked, and he wanted to take advantage of that starting five minutes ago.

"It was a good idea." He kept his eyes on her as the young man, dressed in a crisp white dress shirt, moved behind the bar to retrieve their bill.

"Sometimes it's hard to separate being a woman with being a mother," she mused, still staring rather dreamily across the table. "Even these have found an altogether different purpose." She glanced down at the round tops of her breasts, heaving out of the neckline of her red dress. He'd helped her zip up the short sheath cut garment before they headed out to dinner and he couldn't help but notice the look of irritation on her face when the fabric stretched tightly across her midsection, where it used to hang freely. "It's hard to feel pretty when your body has a more...practical purpose"

"You're gorgeous as ever, baby," he said, genuinely. Motherhood looked good on her as far as he was concerned. Her body had changed to accommodate a piece of him inside her; there was nothing sexier than that.

"You say that...but…" Her words were slow and deliberate, the half a bottle of wine she had consumed making them more difficult.

"I'll show you then."

As if feeling the urgency radiating from Rick's fixed blue eyes, the waiter appeared in a hurry, dropping the bill on the table. Rick motioned for him to stay and pulled his card out of his wallet, handing it to him with his gaze still deliberately on his wife.

Three minutes later, Rick was scribbling a tip and signing his name on the slip as quickly as he could, before standing to take Michonne's hand.

She squeezed his fingers as they swooped out of the door and into the dark of night. The cool air and romantic twinkling light of the imitation gas lamps that lined the sidewalk only drove them closer together as they walked. It was a few short blocks to their hotel, and the doorman greeted them as they made their way into the bright lobby, Rick's arm around her shoulders, hers around his waist, both of their fingers digging into the other's flesh.

They stepped onto the elevator car, both grinning when they found it empty, and after pressing the button to take them to the top floor, Rick turned to her with a look that threatened to set her on fire. She backed up against the wall and he stepped to her, placing a hand beside her head, and trapping her with his stance. He dropped his face to the crook of her neck, kissing his way up to her ear, then used his teeth to bring the lobe into his mouth. Michonne reached for the silk tie she had gifted him for this occasion and wrapped it around her wrist to hold him in place.

The loud ding of the bell alerting them to their destination startled her, and she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, jumping in place. He ran his hand down her bare arm, settling their palms together and lacing their fingers as he pulled her along behind him. When they got to their favorite room, he brought her knuckles to his lips, kissing them gently to settle their pace before swiping the key card. He didn't want to rush this.

They pushed into the room, still smiling at each other, and he allowed himself a moment to take in her full form, standing before him, dressed to the nines, and looking radiant from the wine and the carefree evening.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, a thought occuring to her as she watched him watch her. "I have something." She turned around, wobbling a little on her heels before kicking them off and crossing the room to her luggage. "Turn around."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, refusing her request, and pushing aside the tails of his suit coat to rest his hand on his hips.

"Actually, get undressed," she said, "and…" she faltered a little pointing around the room until she remembered the direction of the bathroom. "Brush your teeth. You taste like Scotch."

He shook his head, chuckling at her orders, but acquiesced, wondering what she was hiding. "You want me to call your mom?" he asked, loosening his tie and heading off in the direction of the suite's living area. "I feel like you shouldn't."

She smiled at him while rummaging through her bag, knowing he was probably right. "Ok. Carl should be asleep by now. Just get a quick update and hurry back."

"Yes ma'am," he said, tossing her a playful salute and heading out of sight.

…

Rick spent exactly four and a half minutes speaking to Michonne's mother, and another five in the bathroom following her instructions, before making his way back to the side of the room where he had left her. When he entered the bedroom, the lights were dimmed and Michonne was stretched across the mattress on her tummy. Her little red dress replaced with a little red slip that had spaghetti straps and was lined with black lace along the hem. He felt his boxer briefs begin to tighten as his eyes ran the length of her, focusing on all of the smooth, dark skin that had been recently exposed by the wardrobe change, and he reached down to adjust the growing bulge. She had her head propped on her bent arm, facing the window that looked out over the skyline lit up by the lights of vacationers, partiers and lovers all over the city, and her feet were crossed daintily at the ankles.

"Is that for me?" he said, taking a few more steps until he was all the way in the room. She didn't answer him and he took that as his cue to find out for himself, padding around the bed to stand before her. What he found, however, had his lustful eyes crinkling in amusement. "'Chonne."

Her cheek resting in her palm, and her lips slightly parted, she was fast asleep. Rick ran a heavy hand over his face then smiled down at her again, musing over her previous reflection about how much things had changed. It was temporary though, he knew that, and despite his physical readiness, he knew he could use the sleep as well.

He gently removed her hand, cradling her head in his palm and lowering it down to the pillow, then moved to the foot of the bed, unfolding the heavy blanket draped there. He pulled it up around her, then turned to switch off the lamp on the table beside her, creeping around to his side in the dark. He crawled onto the huge bed on his hands and knees, until he was settled right beside her, and lay down, pulling her warm body into his chest. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, and tucked his knees into the curve of hers, getting as close as possible, then drifted off to enjoy the first uninterrupted night of sleep either of them had had in the last three months.

…

In his haste to join her the night before, Rick had forgotten to close the heavy drapes that covered the picture window on the wall beside their bed, so now the light of the very early morning was shining directly in his eyes as he tried to enjoy the rare occasion to sleep in.

Michonne was stirring awake as well, not because of the light assaulting her eyelids, but because of the very obvious morning greeting from her husband pressed into the cheek of her ass. She instinctively pushed herself backwards into him, pulling him all the way into consciousness as his eyes fluttered open.

"Morning," he drawled, his lips pressed into her hair.

"Oh my God," she said, stretching her arms over her head and straightening her legs. "I fell asleep!"

"You did," he chuckled softly, gripping her hips while she stretched, to maintain their contact.

"I'm so sorry. Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you looked so peaceful," he smiled, letting his fingers roam the silky fabric of her nightie. "And frankly, I was exhausted too."

She laughed with him at his confession. "I guess we both needed the sleep," she sighed. Shifting in his arms, she turned around to face him, reaching up to stroke the thick stubble on his chin that he had sprouted overnight. "But I needed something else too…"

Rick leaned in to kiss her, sliding a hand down her thigh to wrap her leg around his waist. He pulled away briefly, lifting his wrist in the air and squinting at his watch. "We still have five hours left till check out."

"That should be enough time," she said with a smirk.

He nodded in agreement then leaned in again, this time parting her lips with his tongue as his grip on her waist tightened. She could feel his length, now pressed into her stomach, and she moaned at the anticipation. "I miss Carl," she whispered against his lips, "but I also missed this." A lazy morning with just the two of them, wrapped up in each other and a mess of sheets, might as well have been a fairytale from one of the illustrated board books in their son's nursery. Life had sped up considerably, and now they finally had a moment to slow down and just be together in this place that had caught a glimpse of every version of them. From strangers, to lovers, to newlyweds; adding mommy and daddy to the list of titles they'd come here wearing seemed only fitting.

"I missed this too," he replied, staring into her eyes with the same longing.

Rick wrapped an arm around her waist, deftly maneuvering her beneath him, and came to rest on his forearms above her. He started at her neck, working his mouth along her skin and inching downward until he felt her hands wrap around his biceps, halting his progress. He lifted his head from the smooth, cool fabric of her lingerie to peer up at her eyes, widened with apprehension. He had been expecting her reluctance, but it had been three months since he'd tasted her and he'd be damned if he was going to let any misplaced insecurities keep him from his rightful place any longer. "Let me, baby," he whispered, fixing her with a firm, yet understanding, look.

Michonne squirmed a little under his intense stare. They hadn't even waited the full six weeks to get back to making love, but this was different. The rest of her body was still wearing all of the medals she'd earned giving life to their child, and she knew her most intimate parts wouldn't be any different. "Rick…" she started, her legs tensing to lock him in place.

"Shhh," he soothed, massaging her hip with his hand. "I got you, Michonne. Let me."

She pulled in a calming breath and picked her head up off of the pillow to look at him. She knew she'd denied him, and herself, long enough. She was nervous to find out how this would change, in the same way everything else had seemed to, but looking down into his earnest blue eyes, she knew she could never be any safer than in his hands. She trusted him implicitly-with her life even, and now the life of her child; when Rick promised he had her, she knew he meant it. Finally nodding a weak agreement, she loosened her grip on him and sank back into the pillow letting her knees fall farther apart.

Rick glanced down to take her in, a grin stretching across his face when he saw the red silk panties that were his anniversary gift to her. His pride over his gift was short lived though, as he realized those needed to go. He hooked his thumbs inside of them, pulling them down her long legs and tossing them over his shoulder. He continued his journey, feeling a little like it was his first time, instead of his most time honored indulgence, and gently pressed his lips to her inner thigh to help her relax the muscles there.

Michonne clenched her eyes shut, readying herself for his affection.

He parted her with his fingers, and she let out a short gasp at the feel of him, grabbing a fistful of his hair in response. "You ok?" he asked, pulling back a little. She hummed out an affirmative and tried again to allow her body to relax.

True to his word, he eased into it slowly, allowing her time to adjust to the familiar, yet altogether different sensation that was her husband's lips on her center. His warm breath and soft, supple tongue coaxed tiny shivers from her lower half, and he hadn't even gotten to work yet.

She'd heard other women say that pregnancy and childbirth, for all of the marks it left on the outside, gave you an even more intimate understanding of your body, like exploring a house you'd lived in your whole life, only to find secret passageways and doors that had suddenly become unlocked. Maybe it was just the length of time she'd gone without this particular pleasure, but she was beginning to believe the mythology.

Rick, satisfied with her waning resistance, continued along the path he knew like the back of his hand. A finely tuned and well practiced choreography that he'd made it his mission to master. He was more than pleased to find that, despite her trepidation, all of the steps still fit the music.

She'd given up her tentative hold on his head, completely surrendering to the point of no return, and now her fingers clutched and released the white sheets beneath her in tandem with her rhythmic breaths. Her hips moved against him now, and she swore she could feel the grin creeping across his face as all of her inhibitions left her.

She was so consumed with the shift from worry to divine resignation that her peak bowled into her like a rogue wave. She let out one long cry and he held her in place as she instinctively tried to run away from the intensity.

"Oh my God," she moaned, as she fought to catch her breath. A lazy smile stretched across her face, further boosting his confidence that he'd put one set of reservations to bed once and for all, but he still had a little more work to do.

He sat on knees above her, stroking himself while he watched her shiver with one more latent aftershock, before finally opening her eyes.

"That's pretty, Michonne," he said, gesturing with his chin to her slip, now bunched around her hips. "But it's still a lotta clothes for what I wanna do to you."

She ran a hand over her belly, smoothing the satin out with her palm, and eyeing him with a look of consternation. He wasn't giving in this time either, though. They had hours left in their night away, and he would use every one of them to convince her how beautiful she was if he had to. He let go of himself to run both of his hand up her thighs and over her hips, taking the fabric with him as he perused the skin that was exposed in its wake. He licked his lips, still tasting his first victory on them, while he contemplated his second. Setting about the reverse trip back up her body, he pressed his mouth to the soft flesh just beneath her navel, feeling its new suppleness absorb his lips and the tip of his nose. He felt her tense again and he repeated the action to the left and the the right of the slightly larger aperture in the center of her abdomen, smiling at the memory of it popped out of the curve of her swollen belly.

"Can you come up here and stop torturing me," she sighed, growing impatient with the point he was trying desperately to make. She knew he wouldn't give up until she surrendered.

"I promised to show you how beautiful you are," he said, palming her round hip and squeezing hard. "I can't have you doubting it."

"I believe you," she said. "Now come here. Please?"

He didn't need to be told twice, crawling the rest of the way up her body until they were face to face, and pressing himself wantonly into the same flesh he had just been worshipping. "I know everything feels like it's changed, Michonne," he said, cupping her face while he rocked against her. "And it has. I know it has, because I don't think I've ever loved you more than I do right now." He kissed her before she could respond, lifting her bottom with the hand that had been resting on her waist, and he pushed inside of her with one long stroke that left them both hissing sharply through their teeth.

He began to move inside her, again choosing an extremely gentle touch. It hadn't been a particularly easy birth and though they'd gotten right back at it as soon as she'd felt up to it, he'd been treating her with kid gloves ever since he'd caught her wince their first time after Carl.

She could feel him holding back, and with a renewed confidence in her body's appeal and ability, she lifted to meet him, urging him on. "It's ok, Rick," she said, digging her fingers into his back as he pushed in a little deeper. She wrapped her leg around his, flexing her thigh to pull him against her every time he thrust.

He dropped his head to her shoulder, knowing that if he looked at her this was going to be over way before he wanted it to. "You're good?" he rasped, barely getting the words out before she moaned her answer.

"I'm good," she said. "Don't stop."

The very slight discomfort that still persisted when he let himself use his full force began to mix with the waves of pleasure, until they were all part of the same symphony of firing nerve endings, indistinguishable from each other. He grasped the back of her thigh, pushing her knee up until she could hook it over his shoulder and suddenly forgot every cautious intention he'd started with.

"Rick," she said, her hands finding the curls at the back of his head and gripping them like the handlebar on a rollercoaster as she felt that undeniable tightening of her body proving its resilience once again.

That was all he could handle as the sensation and her pleasured gasps untied the last thread of restraint he's been holding onto. He threw his head back, cursing loudly, before dropping his forehead to hers with a low growl.

"Christ," he laughed after a moment of them staring at each other and panting the same air. He rolled off of her, flopping on his back. "It's been awhile since we've done it like that. You sure you're ok?"

"I'm more than ok," she said, dreamily, her eyes rolling shut.

"I love you," he whispered, staring up at the ceiling and reaching out for her hand. She laced their fingers together, and he circled his thumb on the inside of her palm.

"I love you, too, Rick."

"Michonne?"

"Hmm?"

"You wanna go home and see Carl?"

Michonne broke out into a soft chuckle, tossing an arm over her eyes. "You know I do," she admitted.

"Me too," he said, his own grin growing to match hers. "Let's pack."