Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: This story is meant to fit in during the latter half of season three, episode: "I aint a Judas." Specifically after Andrea and Milton chopped off the arms of the walker she used as protection on her journey to the prison - but before they came across Tyresse's group in the forest.

Warnings: Contains season three spoilers, references to Milton's background, adult language, possible consent issues, and mature content. And well, smut.

Statistical Improbabilities

Chapter Eight

He grunted and dug his thumbs into her hip bones, minutely registering the delicate taper of her innominate as it sloped down towards the pubis. It was a strange mixture of strength and yielding softness as he palmed the length of her thigh, using his strength to supplement hers as she wobbled, nearly losing her balance as her spine curled, one hand buried in her folds as she rose and fell on top of him.

A garbled sound escaped her lips. It could have been his name. Either way, he surged up in response, soothing her lips with his as the acrid sweetness of fresh blood slicked across his tongue. It clung to the corners of their lips in thin strands as they pulled apart, their breathing ragged and downright feral as she nipped his chin, drawing him back into her as his cock bumped against her cervix.

The sensation made them hiss in pleasure as she convulsed around him, muscles rippling as he used her distraction to his advantage. His wide palms dwarfed the span of her hips as he lifted her up, muscles trembling with the strain as he eased her until only the tip remained inside, teasing her slit for a few breathless moments before he let her slide back down. She welcomed him back with an appreciative moan and a muted curse as his fingers dipped towards her center, smearing her juices across the span of her thighs in inert fascination, his expression unguarded and almost smug as he offered his finger up for her to taste.

She barely hesitated – and before long it was him that was cursing. Gnawing on the inside of his cheek in an effort to control himself as that lithe little tongue curled around his index finger, eagerly chasing her own flavor as her breasts heaved, swaying as the rhythm slowly devolved until they were rocking together. Their limbs tangled as her arm curled around his neck, drawing him in impossibly closer as her teeth grazed across the arc of his throat.

And when finally she kissed him, he swore he could still taste her on his tongue.

It was around the point where she changed the angle and tightened around him that he figured he might have to rethink the whole voluntary celibacy thing, because this was - christ- like nothing else.

Truth be told, he didn't remember much after that.

Because as the sensations mounted, spear-headed by that desperate, unmistakable burn that comes seconds before release, that was where experience failed him. He didn't know what to do, what she expected or what she wanted him to-

His hips stuttered, nerves electric as he shuddered before the fall, too far gone to care how he must look – how feral and just gone – with his hair slicked back, skin dirt-streaked and glistening as he lost the rhythm in favor of surging up almost frantically. Static filmed the edges of his vision as he nearly upset them both, forcing her to anchor herself against the tree for balance as she tried to distract him with a lingering kiss.

But it was no good, because if there was a pinnacle, some elusive plateau he was hoping to reach, he just couldn't seem to get there.

And like a predator sensing weakness in her prey, she pounced. Using all the knowledge he didn't possess as she did something impossible with her hips, something had made him nearly howl as his balls drew up tight, slapping wetly against her ass as her nails broke skin. Searing down into the meat of his shoulders as his arms wrapped tight around her waist, lost amidst the echoes of his own whimpers as pleasure, white-hot and unstoppable, winged up his spine.

He didn't care how he sounded, how desperate or weak. He was too far gone, stripped of all the barriers, all the social niceties and inherent awkwardness that had once held him back. He was so desperate for it now that he ploughed forward, forgetting himself completely as he jerked up again and again - the thrusts were brutal and rough as she dripped around him, slicking his shaft and sack with her fluids with every stroke.

"That's it…" she hissed, her voice pleasure-wrecked and uneven. But he barely heard her.

Because he could feel her, every inch, every atom that spanned the distance between his flesh and hers, the smooth glide, the slight trembling that occurred just before her inner muscles tightened around him and she slammed back down. …Everything.

Ah-ah-jesus!

It wouldn't be until later that he'd realized that his mind had drawn a blank on everything save for the string of moments that played out before the fall. Like the moment where she'd bottomed out unexpectedly, her startled cry piercing through the air as she clenched around him - only seconds away from the grating static as an overwhelming spark of need suddenly overtook him.

The tension was almost unbearable, forcing him to muffle his cry into the flush of his forearm, feeling just shy of demented as he left the imprints of his canines across the underside of his wrist. His blunt nails scored deep into the flaking bark as a desperate little mewl rose up from the back of his throat - inadvertently mixing pain with pleasure as his cock throbbed, his entire body tensing as he grabbed her by the hips and wrenched her up, jump-starting the rhythm with one of his own design. Hungry and desperate for something he didn't even know how to ask for as the first waves of his orgasm hit him like a god damned train wreck.

Faster! He needed her to-

Later, he might remember the overwhelming thud of his pulse and the worrisome catch in his breathing. Moments where all there was, all he could feel, was the sensation of dried leaves and muddy soil giving away underneath him, crushed inside the meat of his palms as his filthy hands dug deep into the mouldering soil, desperate for something, anything, to hold on to as she clenched around him and sent him blasting off into subspace. The pitching swan song of dying frequencies echoed in his ears as he tipped his head back – fingers digging into the bark as his hips arced upwards. Brutal and providential all at the same time as her sudden, pleasured cry cut through the blanket of fog that surrounded his higher brain functions and sent his heart rate soaring.

He gasped into the curve of her neck. This was it; he was going to-fuck!

And when he came, balls drawing up so tight he nearly choked, he collected what was left of his wits and mashed his knuckle down across her clit. Feeling more than hearing the reverberations of her pleasured scream as it echoed through their conjoined flesh the second before the entire world exploded into a muted sheen of dark grey static and off-centered light.

And for a long moment there was nothing. Caught up in a place where pleasure and bliss expanded outward like a dying star, until it was just him, her and - the moment.

It wasn't until the muffled rhythm of their heartbeats began thrumming through the forest quiet that he realized he was still breathing - having sworn that he'd actually forgotten how only a few seconds before as he sucked in a ragged gasp of air. His skin was still tingling with the remnants of his orgasm as he slumped against the trunk at his back, feeling the rough bark dig into the divots of his spine as he supported her weight, their arms tangling as her breasts rose and fell against his chest.

He panted into the aftermath, feeling drowsy and strangely sated as he slipped out of her, his cock spent and twitching as she collapsed against his legs. Her blond hair trickled down the span of his thighs as she settled against him, her back propped up against his knees as she turned over and arranged him how she saw fit.

He blinked. His limbs felt lethargic and heavy, rubbery even, like he'd been sitting in the sun for hours. It was the type of feeling that went bone deep, pulling a contented yawn from deep in his throat as he closed his eyes and settled back against the tree – content to let the moment breathe.

And as awareness slowly returned, he was surprised to realize that it was nothing like he'd expected - the sex, the climax, her. It was nothing like the handful of moments he'd used to spend in the shower, usually after a long and particularly frustrating day in the lab - satisfying himself with his own hand and an overly generous dollop of shower gel. Helping himself along, as it were, as he flushed the frustration out of his system in a way nature had fully intended.

But it had been nothing like this. Not even close.

This was like tripping head first into the middle of a forty car pile-up and blasting off into the atmosphere all at the same time. This was like drowning in the middle of the desert or managing to achieve a chemical reaction with inert materials. It was impossible and good and frightening and a thousand other things he didn't have in him to name.

His head lolled, drunk and loose in all the right ways as he slowly came down. The afternoon breeze felt cool and welcome on his sweaty forehead as he tipped back his head and sighed, feeling flushed and strangely bold as his eyes roved across the clearing. It didn't hurt to be cautious after all.

His hand hovered indecisively above her arm, all freckle-flecked and lightly tanned as she melted into the curve of his side - wanting to touch but not quite daring to as she slung herself over him, overly-familiar and easy as her fingers traced the freckles that trickled across his left flank.

It was something he admired about her, her boldness. She did what she wanted, when she wanted and made no apologies for it. She was a survivor, empowered and capable. But it was more than that. There was a strength to her that was different from the kind that Phillip possessed. Her strength was cleaner and far more malleable. More likely to bend than break when put under pressure. She was the same, yet completely different all at the same time.

There was so much about her that he had left to learn!

Because the truth was that he wanted everything she'd so easily taken from him. He wanted to capture one of those loose curls and crush it in his palm. He wanted to feel the texture and test the spring. He wanted to explore the softness of her skin and trace the arc of her hips with his tongue. He wanted to know her better than she knew herself and well - he wanted it all.

He didn't believe in fate or destiny, not in soul mates, divine intervention, god or even hell. He believed in what he could see. In what was tangible and accessible. He believed, no, he put his faith in science. He looked for cold, hard facts and found truth in the formulas of action and reaction, theory and progress. For the good or ill, at the end of the day, he rarely took anything on faith. But now, strangely enough, he thought that given time, he could come to believe in her.

But all that would have to wait.

"So, what did you think?" Andrea asked, leaning back with an air of supreme satisfaction as she rested herself against the span of his thighs, her muscles trembling with the aftershocks of her own climax as his skin buzzed, sated and overly sensitive as he sprawled across the prickly forest floor.

He cleared his throat. Hoping to hell that his voice wasn't going to crack as he ran his tongue across his lower lip, throat going dry all over again as she tipped her head upside down, bracing herself against the knobs of his knees as she sent him an easy, confident little smile. Her blond curls tumbled down his thighs until they melded together with the light, honey-brown hair that dotted his own skin, catching the light as it filtered down through the forest canopy.

He wasn't sure where the inspiration came from. But suddenly a rare smile spread across his lips. The corners curled upwards as he caught her gaze and threaded his fingers through her hair - his calloused pads alive with the twin sensations of softness and strength as he made to speak.

"…I think- I might need more data," he declared with a grin, making a show of thinking hard before he reached down and gathering her into his chest, finally succeeding at catching her by surprise as he brought her in for an awkward kiss. The kiss was a mess of sharp teeth and red-bitten lips as her nipples hardened against his chest – enough to make him regret eventually pulling away as he made to continue.

"You must understand that as a scientist you can never have too much data," he finished, tone husky and low before trailing off with a grunt as he fought for the upper hand and won - the words themselves nearly lost in the intervening moments as he rolled them into the long grass. He braced himself up on his elbows and leaned down to capture her lips as her breasts heaved prettily - pert and pink in the soft afternoon sun as her eyes went hooded with arousal.

And when she dug her hands into his hair and returned the favor, breathless and flushed as his cock stirred between the gentle clasp of her thighs, he muffled her laughter with his lips, taking her down into the tickling grass as somewhere in the distance the biter groaned.

A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – Thank you for all your feedback and support over the course of this story, this is a tiny little dingy of a ship but your reviews and comments made it worthwhile to dabble in. I have another Andrea/Milton story in the works, so if you are interested, stay tuned!

"Few are those who see with their own eyes and feel with their own hearts." - Albert Einstein