LunaescenceLunaescence
 
"You & the Night" by Mozart


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urhurhurhur, after months of pissing around and letting this slow burn, i'm finally putting up. here it is. shameless, shameless smut of good-looking characters.

as you know, just one chapter of smut warrants an Adult rating on lunaescence. fair enough. but i don't want to have to rate up a perfectly good 17+ story for one chapter of smut, thus 1) disappointing readers who clicked on it expecting More Sex and 2) making readers not interested in that stuff shy away. so: smut booklet

i have about half of the prompts planned, the other half are up in the air kek so if you have any reasonable ideas you can sound em off and i'll listen, most of the ones i have planned are those characters i've already written for or am currently writing for. including rick fucking grimes, in this au where there are readily available beds, and he's not ooc as shit around jessie
Looking back, it amazed you how much effort you put into your encounters before the world went insane: you were the first one up with the carefully-selected candles, rose petals on the bedspread, the lighting dimmed to a quality that was just right. Typically you planned all day long with everything from selecting the right perfume to shamelessly spray your cleavage with to picking the right dinner that would digest well with you being rolled and tossed about. Anything to disrupt this equilibrium would put you ill at ease and might have even made you cancel the plans.

But not anymore, obviously. All of that died along with takeout food and liquid eyeliner. Now the only requirements for a decent fuck session were flat, clean surface and a recent shower; rarely were both available simultaneously but you made do. And your standards for a mate were much simpler than before: you made do with a single person, because that single person was all you needed.

“Rick, look!” you gushed, nearly throwing yourself down in ecstasy at the sight of it. Alexandria might have been a godsend after all. “A bed! They have a real, solid bed here! And it’s not rotted away or covered in a dead body or anything…”

Your exploration of the new house had led you to a bedroom, and you weren’t disappointed by what you’d found. You both had had your showers already, so you didn’t feel guilty about laying on the beautiful, clean king-sized bed and rolling across it. So soft; it reminded you of the bed you’d had all the way back home, so long ago. “Isn’t it incredible?” you gushed, amazed at the softness; it felt like you were sinking into a marshmallow.

“It is,” he agreed, bending over to appraise it. “We’ll have to make a schedule out of it. Take turns, decide who gets to sleep in it when. And we’ll have to remember how to change sheets again…”

“In this place… Yes, I’m sure they have a neat chore chart ordinances around here already. Hey! I could work in laundry. You know I was in housekeeping at a hotel, for a little while, before everything started…”

A smirk quirked at the corner of his mouth before he straightened, looking at your lax form critically. “I’m guessin’ you’re gonna petition to sleep on it first?”

“I don’t have to…” You rolled over so that you were lying on your side, propping your head up on a hand and crossing your ankles like some movie siren of old. “I could break it in right now and see how it feels.”

“We…” Rick swallowed sharply at that and glanced over his shoulder; the two of you were totally alone as the others explored the city, but it would be just like your luck for Carl to suddenly teleport right outside the door to catch you with his hands on his father. “We really shouldn’t.’

Had it been anyone else, you would have accepted that. But it was Rick Grimes, and it was almost a ritual for him to tell you that, if only to avoid cognitive dissonance with the leader side of himself — the “constant vigilance” side of him, the one that would never allow him to spend ten minutes getting lost in the sheets. If only the rest of the group knew that you made it your personal mission to not let him keep himself in celibacy! Oh — Carl would never look at you the same again…

The thought of finally being safe and unseen for at least ten minutes was an aphrodisiac; you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You stood with a sigh before crossing over to him, your eyes trained on the clue that informed you that he wasn’t being entirely sincere. With boldness that you would have never used before the crisis, you literally took matters into your own hands.

“Oh, no…” You raised your eyes to his flushed face and gave him a serious look as you carefully, almost delicately moved your hand over the hardness you held in it. “I think we have some disagreement from the ranks, sir.”

Rick Grimes was a leader, a killer, an unstoppable force — but he was still a man, and it was impossible to say no to you. With a sigh of relief he took your face in his hands and closed the distance between the two of you. You felt so overjoyed that your knees nearly buckled beneath you, but you managed to hold out until you were back on the bed again. Clothes came off seemingly all at once despite the fact that you weren’t sure if you had ever stopped kissing him. Primal lust; that was all it was.

Well. It’d be much better if that was all that it was, but you weren’t going to argue about feelings in the middle of an impossible world where the dead walked. Instead you focused on the tangible, the here and the now, namely the man here with you who was now pushing inside of you with such natural authority that you submitted as if on instinct. No time for extended foreplay, no time for wrestling catfights in bed, no hour-long dalliances when there was nothing better to do. It was an era of history when fucking was a purely logistical feat, and you weren’t about to complicate it further.

“Ah,” you groaned, losing whatever upper hand you may have had prior as he almost literally fucked you into the bed. “Ah, f-fuck…” With hazy delight you knew that the bed was squeaking like crazy underneath you; you wondered if a house had ever been so thoroughly christened in its life.

It was reasonable for you to expect him to finish quickly: interludes between these sorts of affairs could get quite long when on the road for a long stint, and the sheer anxiety of getting caught precluded any notion of languid sex; but to your surprise he hitched your hips up with a near-feral growl, adjusting, searching for a spot that might make you feel at least half as good as you were making him feel at that moment.

It wasn’t hard to find; you had been so sexually frustrated that you would have come from anything. Your legs, pinned around his waist, jerked with an electric spasm that took no time in shooting up the rest of your body. Back arching, body locking up, a relieved moan that you had to use both hands to stop from shaking the foundations — everything, everything you had missed. As if there was another reason to hate the walkers… They were forcing you to miss having that on the daily.

You were floating high somewhere over Alexandria, and you would have been perfectly content if he had let himself finish. But Rick, no matter his reservations about the place, must have also sensed the mild relief of five minutes of privacy because he refused to quit just yet. You tangled your fingers into his dark hair as he bent down to kiss your jawline, your cheek, your neck. You could sense his frustration as his mouth hovered over your shoulder — the temptation to bite it, to leave a mark too great, but the irony of it notwithstanding, it might have been a bit obvious to the others.

It wasn’t like condoms were an obvious item to get during supply runs, so there was no possibility of him finishing inside you. But you still had to admire the inhuman restraint he demonstrated when he pulled out of you and finished on your stomach, precious little distance from where he’d wanted. For a moment you both could only look at it, your chests rising and falling as you surveyed the anomaly that you were finally allowed to participate in. Had this been ordinary times, you might have fallen into a ritual: the two of you snoozing there for a while, wrapped up in each other, perhaps each secretly goading to start another round, but with the sort of tristesse you thought was myth, you knew that the both of you would have to keep going as usual — like nothing had happened.

Your head started to spin and you sighed, falling back onto the comforter as Rick reluctantly pushed himself up to find something to clean you up with. When he returned and had finished dutifully wiping you down he stepped back and looked at you as if surveying you, as if your loose, relaxed form was personal handiwork. You looked back at him, expecting him to immediately realign himself to his usual form — a reasonable action considering anyone could come into the house at any moment — but for once he let himself relax for a moment; he clambered onto the bed beside you before falling down heavily on the mattress with a sigh.

You squirmed around to face him, and when you pressed a finger to his cheek you would admit that it seemed more like an accusation than a lover caressing another’s face. “You know — it’s a familiar look, but I think I do miss the beard a bit. Even if you looked wild with it.”

“Well. We all did.”

“I guess so; and maybe I should get a haircut, while I’m at it…”

As you lay there with him, warning signs popped up in your head multiple times — warning you that you really needed to get dressed and get moving before someone discovered you there, ruining the secret, breaking the illusion. But you found yourself repressing it each time, as if by sheer will you could warp reality and turn the scene into a forever, something you could get regularly without worrying about anything —

Downstairs, the door opened and shut and the reverie was over: the both of you bolted up without even a minor hesitation, finding clothes and throwing them on. It was a bit of a challenge — they went everywhere, after all — but you found yourself with approximately zero time when you heard a young man’s voice call out, “Dad?”

Rick was facing the ajar door when he heard it; by the time he turned to look at you, you had already vanished underneath the bed, your recovered clothes in tow. Well — perhaps quick reflexes developed from countless walker attacks manifested itself in various ways.

He had dressed himself with almost inhuman speed and met Carl at the doorway. The latter peered into the bedroom and exclaimed, much as you had, “Wow, nice bed!” And, noticing the minor disarray, he guessed only semi-correctly: “I guess you had to test it out, huh?”

“Right,” Rick agreed, relieved for the G-rated estimation. “We’ll have to make up a schedule for it, so everyone… You know…”

When Carl left again, still with no indication that one of his good friends was sleeping with his father, Rick went back over to the bed to relieve you of your position. “It’s okay to come out, now,” he said to thin air, but when you didn’t reply, of course the first thought through his head was one that jumped straight to the worst: had a walker been hiding under there and was quietly chewing away at your face?

But when he lifted up the edge of the comforter in a panic, he found that you had merely fallen asleep in the five minutes that you had been lying there. With a sigh he rescued you and put you onto the bed before dressing you as best he could and pulling the covers over you. And of course — he had to tell the others that, purely by coincidence, you would have to get the bed first.



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