Behind Bars


She's doing her pushups again, rising up, going down, rising up again, her leg stretched out as she alternates sides, chocolate skin rippling and lithe with power just boiling underneath the surface.

Mama always said it was impolite to stare, but it's been awhile since she's said anything, he never considered himself the most polite guy around, and he's been doing so for the past five minutes.

If she's bothered by this, she doesn't say anything. In fact, she doesn't say anything unless it needs to be said. He kinda likes that about her.

He doesn't like, that he likes that about her. He doesn't have anything against her personally; if anything, anyone able to go toe-to-toe with him, hold their own, and still walk away without a scratch is a helluva person in his book. Hell, it's been about two years since the shit hit the fan, and she's still here, still fighting. So yeah, he can respect that. Respect her.

But it's not like he can let things get further than that. She's still Black. He's still an asshole, and he's this close between having a pot to piss in and his ass out on the road. Maybe this being nice thing is a part of his comeuppance.

In any case, he starts talking to her, shooting the shit, really. And occasionally, in the quiet, unsettling way, she talks back, to his surprise.

She rises up. "You want something."

He shrugs, quirks his lips, "A few things." His eyes follow attentively as she lowers herself down and up again. She's not exactly telling him to leave so he interprets that as her way of saying 'oh, then please, continue.' Heh, if only she were so kind. "What I really want is to know why Officer Friendly is taking you and Junior out on a run."

She lowers herself. "If I didn't know any better, I would almost think you care."

"But I do, Mi-chonne," He croons, dragging out her name. His grin would be considered disarming to those who knew him, almost charming to those who didn't, and mostly feral. "But really, you hadn't thought about it?" She continues to lower herself undisturbed. "I know you have," Merle singsongs knowingly. "You're too smart for that. Always thinking."

After a moment or so, she rises up into a crouch, lethal as a cat in motion, and stands up. "What's it to you?"

"He's heading out when the Goven'r's bound to have scouts out there. And I'm tellin' ya, the second he crosses that line, all Hell is gonna break loose, and Daryl and I are gonna be in the crossfire again, that's what it's to me. And don't think I don't know that Rick has Daryl under his thumb. He's not takin' him because he thinks I need to be babysat."

She steps up to him. "Do you?"

"Ah…" Shit. "No." She bows her head, an eyebrow rising up. "Maybe."

"Maybe," Michonne agrees before walking away.

And dammit, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the view.


They get back from the run that night and even under her dark skin, he could see the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

The females rush over to Carl to tend to the fact that the boy is covered in walker blood. The men rush over to Rick to see what he's learned out there.

Michonne stands alone in the corner, and then walks out past the bars. Merle grabs a washcloth Carol left on the table and heads out after her unnoticed.

She stands by one of the big bay windows, guarded in by bars, the moonlight streaming in and lighting her face. She stays cool with her arms crossed despite the fact that her skin is glistening in blood, and he can damn near say what happened without her even having to say anything. Michonne was one tough broad.

She doesn't even blink when he ambles into her line of vision, and she doesn't flinch when he brushes the cloth against her forehead and cheeks. Her eyes stay open and clear on him as he freely cleans off her exposed skin – her shoulders, her biceps, and her hands. When he finishes, Michonne gestures to the door. "Close it."

Merle heads over, shuts the bars with his left hand with a clang. Normally he'd be popping off at the mouth, or saying something just for the hell of saying it, but with all the damn noise on either side of those bars, saying anything is useless right now.

Her hands snake up his chest when he turns around and those dark full lips grab hold of his.

The last time he remembers getting any, the broad was plastered; a real barfly, and a good ole case of coyote ugly. Didn't even bother him. Hell, whoever said light was required when you were bumpin' uglies? Anyway, her name was Bethany, or Britany...Rebecca? And they had a pretty good thing going until this whole people-rising-from-the-dead-end-of-the-world shit started happening. She had a good set of tits. Which was unfortunate because he had to ram a broken beer bottle in her face when she tried to bite him.

Michonne's teeth clamp down on his lower lip as she pushes him up against the wall, and he wraps his right arm around her, careful to not brush her skin with his bayonette. Her hips grind against his and it takes a second before his brain catches up for him and he reacts just as aggressively, spinning them around so she's up against the wall, unzipping her jeans with his one good hand. Thankfully for him, he learned he could do a lot of things one-handed, as long as he was focused with a goal in mind. She works on slipping his vest off, and he tries not to focus on how the metallic taste of blood is somehow turning him on.

Merle gets her jeans down halfway when he crouches down on one knee and he looks up at her with a grin as he tugs her panties down. She's not exactly saying yes, but she's not exactly cutting his head off with her katana either. Besides, he always was a bit…curious.

He swings her leg over his shoulder and she's already so wet, pink in-between downy black hair. Not being one to do anything halfway, he swipes the length of his tongue up the folds of her wet pussy, and she leans her head back, back arching off against the wall as she hisses through her teeth. He starts sucking that bundle of nerves right below her clit like its forbidden fruit and Michonne grinds down against his face in an attempt to stay upright.

Only thing is, he never liked a quiet girl in bed. Seriously, how the Hell do you know if you're doing it right if she's not screaming her head off? But then she starts moaning, wanton and without inhibition as the sound echoes against the prison's walls. Her fingers dig against his scalp as he scrapes his upper teeth against her swollen nub, just lapping up the juices. And hands down, walkers or no walkers, this girl has the sweetest tasting pussy he's ever had. He leans back, chuckling against her fragrant folds, "Yeah, you like that?"

"Stop talking," She groans out.

"Yeah, I bet you haven't had it this good in a while," Merle croons. "When was the last time you got any?"

Michonne stills against him, and even in the dark, even from where he's at, he could see her clear eyes glaze over, if only for a second. It's not long enough to make things awkward because she snaps out of it almost immediately, which he's thankful for.

"I told you to stop talking," Michonne says as she hoists her leg off of his shoulder. She frowns, pursing out her lower lip, looking down at his belt and then back in his eyes. "Take off your pants."

"Shit, would it kill you to say 'please'?" Merle grumbles as he unloosens his buckle.

"Wouldn't wanna risk it," Michonne smirks.

Bitch. "This is how you repay me? After I just got you off? Where are your-"

And coherent thought flees his mind when her tongue wraps around the tip of his dick. How'd she get down there so fast? How-

Merle reaches out and rests his hand against the wall behind her, letting out a groan. Holy shit. "Holy shit."

She encases his firm member in her mouth, sucking in her cheeks, which allows her to take him in all the way to the back of her throat – she looks up at him, a cold, steely, and unafraid gaze, and he almost blows his load right then and there. He tilts his head back. "Fuck." He tries to think of something else...Rachel's face as the beer bottle went through her temple, but he can't. All he can see are those fucking defiant and sexy eyes.

Michonne tilts her head back slightly, changing the angle as she cups his balls and squeezes. If her mouth wasn't so preoccupied, she would've laughed at the moan he let out. Her ex used to love that shit, too. She swirls her tongue around the head, going down the shaft, and he hisses when her top row of teeth scrape back over the head.

Doing something like this feels like something she did a lifetime ago, and maybe in this world, it can be considered a lifetime ago. She grabs the base of his shaft and twists, and he tugs on a few of her dreds with his hand. He's not the biggest she's ever had but he's thick, hard. Alive. And maybe in this new world, that's all that counts.

She bobs her head back and forth until the head of his dick head the back of her throat, and he lets out an intake of breath as his come slips down it. "Fuck – that feels-," he doesn't even finish that thought when she takes his dick out of her mouth and licks the undershaft of his balls. She smirks up at him in the dark. "Bet you haven't had it this good in a while, White boy," She murmurs, throwing his words back at him. Michonne pulls her panties and jeans up with her when she stands, but Merle has her locked in, blade on one side, hand on the wall on the other.

"Where you running off to in such a hurry, girly?" Merle asks, caressing her right arm. "You just gonna walk off," he shrugs. "Just like that?"

She grabs hold of his still exposed dick, relishes in the feeling of constricting her hand around it and his face as his eye bulge out. "Where I'm running off to, is none of your fucking business. So, I'm just going to walk off, just like that."

And she does. And he doesn't even stop her. The metal clang of the cell block door jars his thoughts and it takes him a minute before he pulls up his trousers, trying to forget the ghost of her fingers tightened over it.

Thing is, he can't really forget it. Not when he fastens his belt buckle, and not even when he shuts his eyes that night. That pink little tongue of hers is still swirling around the head of his cock, even in his sleep, and by the time he wakes up the next morning, his pants are tented and his cock is twitching against the fabric, wanting more. He spits on his hand and strokes himself off just to get some relief.

This isn't going to work. Worse part about this whole fucking thing?

Merle comes at the thought of her eyes ingrained in his memory.

He likes her. He fucking likes her.

"Shit," he mutters, wiping his hand on his pants.


"The Hell were you last night?" Daryl stomps up to him.

Merle grins, tilts the mug he's holding back. And yeah, the coffee's definitely not as good as the brand they have up there in Woodbury, but at least there is some. "And a good morning to you too, baby brother. And yeah, I did sleep well, thanks for askin'."

Daryl frowns, peering at his face curiously. "What did you do?"

Merle leans back on the counter, "Don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Yeah, I bet you don't…" Daryl grimaces. "You got that shit-eating grin on your face."

"Was eating somethin' baby brother, but it sure ain't shit," Merle takes another swig of his hot beverage. "So, uh…what do you think about this Michonne girl? Looks like Officer Friendly is starting to trust her."

Daryl cocks his head back with his face pinched as if he smelled something really offending. "What do you care?"

Merle shrugs. "Now that you've gone native, I figure it's high time for me to start wondering why you give a damn, is all. I mean, your new BFF is Rick, and suddenly that chink is Korean now, maybe I want to see what it's like on the other side."

"Don't start anything, Merle, I'm serious," Daryl steps up to him like a man, and Merle cocks his head. "I know you got issues playing well with others-"

"Heh, well ain't that the understatement of the year," Merle mutters.

"But I'm not asking you to do this for them, I'm asking you to do this for me." Daryl looks at him all serious and stern, and Merle smiles, raising his hands up in surrender.

"Okie-dokie, little brother. I'll play nice."

Starting with the dark one.


So, the prompt for this was: "Merle has a humongous crush on Michonne. How would you woo a BAMF like her?" And I thought about it. And then Merle kept making eyes at her, calling her sweetheart, and I was basically done because wow I didn't think I'd like them as much as I do. Their scene last night was amazing too~

More soon.

DAC