Really quickly, ttgranger, thank you for such insightful feedback! You really made me smile, because a lot of what you said is precisely what I've been hoping to convey. I mean, not that I want Rick to come off as unlikeable, but it's dope as hell that you're still reading despite (or because of) it. And it makes sense - I've been writing this Rick with shades of my favorite TV character, Don Draper, who is deeply flawed and often very unlikeable, lol. So it made me laugh when you said that. There are some other things you mentioned that are spot on, but I don't wanna give away future events. So hopefully they're addressed in the next few chapters and then we can talk about it! Anyway, thank you again. So much. Thank you all! It's my favorite thing to hear from y'all.
Lots of Jessie in this chapter, unfortunately, which I did not enjoy writing, given the latest filming spoilers. But there's also some Richonne, and maybe a little something you didn't see coming? I hope you enjoy! -Ash
Chapter 8: Knot
It was midnight, and Michonne was lying in her empty bed, doing her best to empty her head and find sleep. But every time she closed her eyes, thoughts of Rick came crashing through, refusing to allow her any solace. Perhaps it was because he was gone on his mission to find a doctor, and she simply wasn't used to being home without him. Perhaps it was because they'd practically been attached at the hip for two days straight, so it was difficult to get the picture of him out of her head. But the real problem seemed to be that she could not stop envisioning the dream he told her about.
It was her own fault, she knew. She demanded that he tell her every dirty detail, and now they were all swirling around in her brain, making a mess. The thought of Rick touching her had crossed her mind once or twice – when they shamelessly flirted with one another, or when she knew he was staring at her ass. She would imagine him holding it with both hands while she rode him. But they were always just flashes of images. Nothing long enough to warrant a true fantasy. But now? All she could picture was Rick fingering her teasingly, while she laid naked in that very bed, writhing to the feel of him. She imagined pulling his hard dick from his pants, how it would fit in her hands, how it would taste.
"Fuck," Michonne whispered to herself. She turned from her side to her back, running her hand along her thigh, where her fresh bandage was. She thought of how it felt to have Rick's hands on that thigh, and the stupid flutter it gave her the first few times he'd done it.
Their time at Alexandria had changed so much about their relationship, and it was manifesting itself as she laid there, thinking about him. And she wasn't sure what had caused the shift, which made it all the more confusing. They had been close for so long, but suddenly, she had begun to feel things. Emptiness when they were apart. Pangs of jealousy when she thought of him and Jessie. And now, knowing that he'd pictured her naked was a huge turn on. It was all so strange.
Before she knew it, her eyes had closed and she was seeing Rick's face, all while her hand inched to the left, making its way inside her panties. She wasted no time using her index and middle fingers to softly massage her clit; envisioning Rick licking his lips as he watched her, as he touched her himself. Her head pressed against the headboard, she began to breathe heavier as she continued downward, dipping her fingers into her warm, wet center. Her mouth was agape as she stroked herself towards an orgasm, Rick's face on her mind, his name on her lips. She moaned out quietly in response to her self-pleasure, but she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from saying his name out loud.
Her fingers were fully immersed in her own wetness, and she was right on the verge of a climax, when the static of the walkie-talkie on her nightstand shook her out of her fantasy. Especially when it was followed by the sound of Rick's voice.
