A/N: Hello, there. Sorry for the wait. Also, there's some Lord and Lady smut at the beginning of this, but it is important that it happens for the rest of the plot of this story.
Despite all of the things that led to Michonne ending up at the Citadel and becoming the Lady of the estate, she did have to admit she enjoys one of its perks: Being the only one to hold Lord John in sexual bondage. While his need for complete control over others fuels his dominance, he, on occasion, likes to relinquish that control to his wife. She is a very good Mistress: Stern, confident, and ever the sensual being. She can read someone and tell what they like. She enjoys having dominion over them, even though she answers to John, like all others do. He gladly offers himself over to her for her pleasure as a way of nurturing her dominant side and getting what he needs, too. The morning of his birthday is the perfect time for both of them to indulge. It is also the perfect opportunity for Lady Michonne to test one of her ideas.
Lord John is quite tall, standing well over six feet. His Lady needs to adjust the fixtures on the Saint Andrew's Cross to accommodate his height. The new steel cuffs she had installed replace the old leather ones. They are far more sturdy; far more secure. Though padded with soft wool on the inside, they are difficult to escape from; the small loops for the padlocks ensure this.
"This is new, My Love," says John as she fixes his wrists into place.
Michonne's firm, gloved hand swiftly slaps him across his cleanly shaven face. His head falls to the side as a smirk crosses his lips.
"Did I say you could speak?" she asks sternly.
"No, My –"
She grips John by his throat and stares into his eyes.
"Speak again without my permission, you patricidal piece of shit, and I will rip your little, limp cock from your body with my bare hands and feed it to the peasants. Do I make myself clear?"
She sees the mirth and desire flood his gaze. His erection quivers at her harsh words as he nods his head.
"Good boy," she replies, as she brings her lips close to his but does not kiss him.
She trails both hands down his naked form and bends so that she can fasten his ankles to the cross as well. His stiff cock is close to her face, and he has the nerve to thrust his hips forward in the hope of getting some form of contact. He's an entitled little brat, and she mentally makes a note to make him pay for it.
Getting back to her feet, Lady Michonne takes hold of John's erection. She grips it tightly and then says, "So excited, aren't you, birthday boy?"
He swallows a moan as she strokes his length. She brings her hand to his mouth, and then says, "Wet this, you dirty little thing."
John obliges her by spitting onto the dark leather glove. She returns to stroking him. Harder and faster as he lets out little whimpers.
"Don't you dare make a sound," she orders while slapping his face again; she continues her strokes, bringing him closer and closer to his release.
When he finally comes undone from her attentions, she catches his seed, and then brings it to his mouth.
"Such a filthy little boy," she says mockingly. "You made a mess, now clean it up."
He licks the sticky, white substance from her fingers; sucking them into his mouth. She pushed her fingers deeper and he gags on them, which causes her to smile. Then, she removes them, and the gloves, and tosses them aside while John fights to catch his breath.
"I think you need a time out," she says while stepping away from the Cross. "Maybe I'll leave you here so that you miss your birthday celebrations all together. I know how you hate being alone, you poor excuse for a man."
She raises an eyebrow in his direction, and then turns. She slowly begins to walk toward the exit, leaving John shackled to the Cross. She climbs the steps; her heels tapping loudly against the cold floor. John watches her as she makes to leave. She isn't stopping, and he suddenly panics, thinking this is not part of her scene.
"Katana," he says quickly. "Katana."
Lady Michonne stops, and then hides a smile before she turns to look at him. She sees the seriousness in his eyes, so she makes her way back down the steps, and moves closer to him. She stares him down, even though he is no longer in the mood to be subjugated.
"Aww, My Lord, were you afraid I would leave you down here?" she asks, as she runs her hand over the side of his face.
"I invoked the safeword," he replies. "You don't get to ask why."
Lady Michonne lets out a wry laugh, and says, "Indeed. No matter. We're done for the morning."
She goes to remove his restraints, pleased with herself that this test run worked. Next time, she will gag him before she tethers him to the device. Then, she will exact her revenge and leave this place.
…..
Lady Michonne retires to her quarters to change into her clothes for the lunchtime banquet. She needs to wash away the disdain of having to entertain her husband on the day of his anniversary. She has her Attendants bathe her and help her dress in a flowing, yet simple golden gown. The day was going to be a long one, but at least she would get to spend the remainder with her daughter, and hopefully see Rick at the evening Feast after he competes in the Tourney.
She knows he will do well in the Arena. She would be lying if she did not admit she is worried about Rick, but he is a strong and skilled fighter. He is far more experienced than the others who will be competing this day. Still, injuries can happen and she finds herself concerned for her Tribute's safety.
After the Attendants leave Lady Michonne alone, she takes a seat on the edge of her bathtub. She has to admit to herself that the morning's dalliances excited her. Even though it was Lord John tethered and at her mercy, she wished that it was her Tribute, Rick.
Just the thought of him causes her sex to throb. She wishes that she would have had the chance to bind him to the Cross and have her way with him, instead of with her husband. She exhales loudly and closes her eyes, picturing Rick's naked body shackled and ready to be ravaged. Her nipples grow hard as the pulsing between her thighs grows more intense.
Ignoring the fact that she has just been cleaned and dressed, Lady Michonne hikes up her skirt. She slips her hand between her legs and pulls her panties to the side. She doesn't need to check, but dips a finger between her folds anyway to find herself wet. She trails a finger over her slit; her pussy is slippery and engorged. Wet. Soaking. Just from the thought of her Tribute. She has never been so aroused by any man in her life time. Rick Grimes does something to her that she cannot explain.
She inches her finger between her swollen lips before trailing her juices up to her clit. She massages the tiny bud, imagining that Rick is doing it.
"Hmm," she moans as she slides her finger inside. She pumps it in and out, pretending that it's her Tribute's hard dick. She spreads her legs wider and braces herself so that she doesn't fall from off of the tub.
"Ohhhh, fuck," she whimpers as she fingers herself. The sucking sound of her wetness drowns out her moan. "Hmmm."
She slips a second finger into her tight, wet cunt and pumps faster. All the while she pictures Rick's big, thick cock drilling her.
Her fingers are drenched. Her pussy is throbbing. She thumbs her clit and finger fucks herself with more fervor.
"Rick," she whispers as she hastens her movements. "Oh, fuck, Rick."
She presses her thumb to her clit once more as she comes all over her fingers. Her body jerks and quakes as her pussy pulses around her fingers. She removes the soaked digits from her sex and licks them clean, hoping that the day passes quickly so that Rick's cock will follow where her fingers have already been.
…..
The day had begun like any other for Rick and the other Tributes. They took breakfast and resumed their duties, however, after breakfast, those who were to compete in the Arena were taken to have their battle attire fitted. Gone were the Servant's uniforms; they were replaced with mail and armor, which was mostly breastplates. Rick notices his armor. It is little more than some mail and a gorget to guard his neck. While it will offer ease of movement, it offers little protection. A sharp enough sword could easily pierce the mail, and there are no gauntlets for his hands. What eases Rick's mind somewhat is the fact that the Tourney will be for exhibition and not a fight to the death.
He pulls the mail over his head and fixes his belt over top of it, ensuring the garment does not move from where it is secured. Once he is dressed, he goes to wait with the others. A sense of excitement fills the air. This is what they have been training for. Most of the Tributes are eager to please their Lord and Lady. Rick is only concerned about Lady Michonne. He knows he will not get close to her until after the Tourney. However, it is Lord John's birthday and he might want to spend time with his wife; he might hide her away from everyone else: Her Tribute included. Sighing, Rick places his hands to his hips and pushes the feeling of deep longing for the Lady of the Citadel down inside of him; he needs to focus on winning his bouts today.
…..
The vibrant sun is bright and warm in the afternoon sky. A soft, easterly wind blows about the outer fields and causes the numerous flags that are on display to dance. It is the perfect day for sport. Horns and drums sound as the Lord and Lady make their way into the Arena, followed by their daughter, and a number of servants. The family take a seat in a raised platform before Lord John, who remains standing, speaks.
"Welcome, subjects of the Citadel," he starts, as he gestures to them with his raised hands; they let out a hearty cheer. "I offer many thanks to you for joining me in celebration of my anniversary. Today is a day of festivities that I have already begun to enjoy with my family. This afternoon will be spent with my subjects; we will be entertained by the Tributes engaging in battle. The first exhibition is a melee; we will enjoy watching fighters do battle in close combat. The last group of four combatants left standing will fight one another until we have one victor. But, before we come to that, please be upstanding while I open the Tourney forthwith."
The people do as they are told. Every able-bodied person gets to their feet and waits. An archer steps into the Arena and nods her head to His Lordship. She takes an arrow from her quiver and lights the end of it with one of the torches that is placed near the podium. She waits for Lord John to give the signal, and then shoots the blazing arrow in the direction of a large cauldron set at the far end of the Arena. When the arrow strikes, it bursts into flames signalling that the Tourney has begun.
…..
Lady Michonne and Missy share a tired smile as one bout finishes, and another begins. Lord John is busy sipping from his wine and making crude comments about the Combatants. Michonne does not know how many fights they have witnessed thus far; her interest only piqued when Rick was doing battle. Just as she knew he would, he was doing quite well. He had defeated all of his opponents; his last being Maggie. She fought with honor and dignity, and he did not take it easy on her because she is a woman. At one point, Lady Michonne thought the young woman might get the upper hand, but she lost her footing and stumbled, and Rick capitalized on that error.
The bouts are shorter and shorter, as the Tributes grow weary from being out in the sunshine doing battle, their wounds notwithstanding. Another bout concludes and Lady Michonne is still bored. The archers return to the Arena and show off their keen eye for hitting their mark. The display is a crowd favorite, and reminds the people of the Citadel that those who work for Lord John are very skilled with their chosen weapons. There are impressed sounds coming from the audience as the exhibition continues. Lady Michonne stifles a yawn; her husband notices.
"Bored, My Lady?" he asks, placing a possessive hand to her knee.
"Pardon me?" she answers.
"Just now, you tried to hide a yawn."
"Forgive me, My Lord," she replies. "It's been a long day."
"Yes," he says, unimpressed with her lack of enthusiasm. "And it isn't over yet."
She offers him a fake smile before resting her hand on top of his and saying, "I know, My Lord. The best is still to come."
"Indeed," he says, as he brings her hand to his lips to kiss.
The horns sound once more as the Archers depart. Morgan steps out and announces the final battle: A Tribute named Anthony versus Tribute Rick. Michonne straightens her back as her eyes dart to the grounds where the fight will take place.
"Ah, that's gotten you far more enthused," says John, noting that his wife has suddenly perked up.
"Last battle of the Tourney," she reminds him. "We're in for an entertaining bout."
"I'm sure we are," John replies, as he finishes off his wine. "Do you care to engage in a friendly wager with me, My Love?"
Michonne watches as Rick and the other Tribute stand facing one another as Morgan explains the guidelines to them.
"All right," she replies. "Your terms?"
"Sweet Daughter," says John to Missy. "Cover your ears a moment, please."
Missy rolls her eyes, and then does as he asks; Michonne sighs. She expects him to say something along the lines of her having to take his dick in her mouth if her Tribute loses. She regrets indulging him.
"Should your boy be triumphant," says John as he eyes Rick. "He will join us in our marital bed tonight."
"Join us or watch us?" she asks.
"Watch us, to begin with," says John. "He can watch, but then I'll have him too, so that you can watch."
Michonne keeps her face neutral.
"And if he loses?"
"Then I'll bugger the both of them," he says with a laugh. "Deal?"
"You're going to do what you want either way," says Michonne slightly dejectedly.
"True," says John with a wicked smile. "And it is my birthday, so I will have my way regardless of the outcome of this bout. Hush now, My Love; they're about to begin."
…..
The fight is over in record time. Rick is in fine form. Anthony, though the victor of his own bouts, is no match for the older, more experienced man. Rick finds himself glancing over at Lady Michonne. She never tears her gaze from him as he swings his sword and bests the young Tribute. There is a wild fire in her eyes. Rick wants to impress her, and he does . After a short five or so minutes, he knocks Anthony to the ground, and holds the tip of his blade to the young man's throat; he concedes defeat, and Morgan announces the winner to the crowd. A loud cheer rises up around the Arena as Rick nods his head in acknowledgement and then helps Anthony to his feet.
"Well," Lord John says of Rick as he turns his head to his wife. "If his stamina in the bedroom is anything like it is in the Arena, we are in for a very interesting evening."
"Agreed," says Lady Michonne, as her stomach sinks; there is no way her Tribute and husband will be able to share a bed with her at the same time. Just as she was trying to figure out how she would handle the situation she knew John would make happen, he stands up beside her.
"Well done, commoner," he says to Rick. "You fought well today."
The crowd cheers once more and Rick offers a soft, "Thank you, My Lord."
"You have impressed the masses. You have impressed my lovely wife, so I offer you, as part of your victory, a seat at our table this evening," says John. "Do you accept?"
"Yes, My Lord. Thank you," says Rick as he bows his head feigning respect.
The crowd erupts again before Lord John quiets them.
"But first," he says, as he waves a number guards over. "You have one more battle."
The guards approach Rick from all sides. They are carrying the bars of a steel cage. They enclose him inside and hammer the pegs into the hard ground. He is effectively caged in. Michonne looks at her husband, then down at her Tribute.
One of the guards opens the cage door, as two others approach from the left. Grasped by metal hooks on the end of poles between them is a groaning, gnashing creature. One that the people have not seen in ages. It is a walker that is covered in steel spikes; spikes forced through his rotting body; spikes fixed to his head. The top of its head is protected by a metal casing that ensures it cannot be put down by having its skull pierced.
"What's the meaning of this?" asks Lady Michonne, suddenly worried.
Lord John does not answer her directly but speaks to the crowd instead.
"Since the commoner proved to be a formidable opponent today, I think he should endure something more challenging; he should face Winslow!" says Lord John as the spectators erupt in applause.
One of the guards tosses a small, sharp sword to the ground in front of Rick as the others disengage the walker from the hooks. They nudge the creature into the enclosure and then shut the door. Rick quickly picks up the blade and backs away from the thing Lord John called Winslow. The crowd grows excited again as Rick takes a defensive stance. He wants to look up at Lady Michonne in case he does not survive but thinks the better of it; he needs to focus. Just then, the creature lunges forward. Rick steps to the side and moves away hastily.
Michonne's heart feels like it is lodged in her throat. She watches on as her Tribute strikes at the walker and dodges its advances. She has seen the type of damage Winslow has done in the past. Anyone who has been found guilty of crimes such as murder were often thrown to the thing; no one has ever survived being locked away with it. She fears for Rick in that moment. He is a strong fighter, but how could he escape this?
Rick knows there is no way for him to escape. The door is locked and the guards will not let him exit unless he does away with the vile thing. He keeps moving, not staying in one spot for too long. While it is slow, the long spikes that had impaled it comes dangerously close to him before it can reach its mangled hands out to grab hold of him. The spikes in the head also look as if they impede the walker in getting its mouth close enough to bite. Perhaps that is what keeps it so rabid: They do not let it feed often.
He is tired from having to fight all afternoon. His feet are heavy, and his breathing is labored. But he will not stop until he finds a way to defeat the walker. While he continues to move away from it, Rick examines it quickly. Most of its upper chest and neck are exposed. He decides to use it to his advantage. He swings his sword and hacks one of Winslow's arms off. It falls away easily due to its decaying form. The other arm is protected by spikes, so he aims for the hand. It is trickier to hit because the walker is flailing it about. A long spike scrapes the side of Rick's right upper arm, causing him great discomfort as it tears his flesh. He backs away, once again on the defensive.
He switches the sword to his less dominant left hand and gets ready to fend off the walker. Hit lunges again, and he steps to the side before he extends his leg and trips the thing. It loses its footing and falls to the ground. Rick wastes no time standing over the top of it, from behind, and moving his blade to its throat. He uses his right hand to grasp the tip of the sword and leans backward. He puts all of his weight into it until he decapitates the walker. Its head drops to the dirt and its body soon follows as he thrusts it forward violently.
Rick scrambles to stand and lets his weapon fall at feet. The spectators cheer loudly and excitedly for him as they celebrate his victory. He moves slowly toward the gate as the guards open it for him. Morgan approaches, and moves to lift his arm to signal his victory, but Rick winces in agony and grips his side.
"Quickly!" yells Morgan after he inspects Rick more closely. "Get a medic! Looks like a spike has pierced his armor. Hurry! He's bleeding!"
…..
There is a great feast with a lot of drinking after the Tourney. Lord John is disappointed that the commoner was injured during the impromptu show with Winslow; he is even more disappointed that the walker found its demise by way of Rick's sword. Still, he is enjoying his evening with the Tribute Anthony sitting on his lap and his wife by his side.
Around an hour or so after Maggie accompanies Young Miss back to the Maison, Lady Michonne plans to retire for the night. She does her best to hide her concern for Rick. She knows he will be taken care of, as she ordered it so, but the worry bubbles away inside of her. She will not be at ease until she sees him safe and sound with her own two eyes. It is getting late and she needs to be with him soon.
She waits until her husband is drunk and preoccupied with the handsome Tribute before she makes her intentions to leave known. Lord John takes hold of her hand, and then forces the young man onto his knees to that he can fellate him under the table.
"Will you join us, Wife?" he asks, as he removes his erection from his pants. "I would love to take him from behind as he feasts between your thighs."
"No, thank you, My Lord," she replies sweetly. "I have a bit of a headache. It's been a long day. But you should definitely take him to bed with you. I will retire to my own quarters soon."
She bends down and kisses him as the young man under the table sucks him off.
"Happy birthday, My Lord," she whispers.
"Thank you, My Love," he replies.
She leaves Lord John with his conquest for the night, and sets off to find her injured Tribute.
xXxXx
The private room of the infirmary is dark. Soft overhead lights offer some kind of illumination. Lady Michonne steps inside. Her footfalls are tentative. She searches the room until her gaze falls upon her Tribute. Rick is in a reclining position atop a small bed. He lifts his head when he notices that he is no longer alone. He moves to sit up when he sees that His Lady is there. She gestures with her hand to tell him to remain where he is. He waits for her to speak. She draws nearer to him and sits on the cot before placing a hand to his leg.
"How are you?" she asks, genuinely concerned for his wellbeing.
"I am okay, My Lady," he replies, happy to see her.
"Are you in much pain?"
"A little," he answers. "But better now that you are here."
Her eyes roam over his form. He is wearing next to nothing. He has been stripped of his mail and armor; laid up with just his under garments on. Her gaze falls to his injuries. His arm and abdomen are bandaged. He is bruised all over and she cannot deny that it appeals to her sadistic side to see him in such a state. She reins in her desire and speaks once more.
"It pains me to see you incapacitated."
"Your concern warms me," he offers. "Can I ask what you are doing here?"
"Checking on you," she says. "I wanted to make sure you weren't in too bad of a state."
"I'm much better now that you're here," he admits.
She blesses him with a smile as she presses a firm hand to his bandaged arm. He flinches somewhat, before taking a deep breath and moaning. The pain medication has left him feeling high; he admits to himself that he enjoys the pain when his Mistress is causing it. The mood in the room shifts.
"You were impressive earlier today," she says. "I enjoyed watching you do battle."
"Really?"
"Yes," she supplies. "You've always been a strong, worthy fighter. I didn't like seeing you get hurt."
"I'm better, now," he offers. "Your presence is like a balm to my injuries."
"Good," she says, while running her hand up his form. She brings her fingers to his chest, stroking his nipples until they grow hard.
"Your display today excited me."
"I aim to please you."
"You pleased me very much," she says, before trailing her hand up to his face. She traces the edge of his strong jawline. Rick's breath hitches as she thumbs his lips. "I got so wet while I was watching you."
His cock twitches at her words. He hopes she notices as he grows hard. He waits for her to continue; she does so.
"I ended up soaking my underwear just from seeing you out there in the Arena," she says as she pinches his nipple. He lets out a moan and she grins. "I wanted to fuck you so, so badly."
"Yeah?"
"Oh, yeah ," she replies. "I wanted to call an end to the Tourney and take you away somewhere we could be alone. Would you have liked that?"
"Yes, My Lady," he supplies without hesitation. "Very much so."
"Did you think of me at all today?"
"You are all that I thought of," he says in earnest. "You're all that I think of. I missed you. I fought as well as I did for you."
"Good," she says with a smile as her hand slides southward. She slips it under the waistband of his underwear. Her hand is warm and causes his manhood to stand at attention. She teases him further. "You fought for me?"
"Yes, My Lady," he offers. "For you, and only you."
She inches her hand lower until she finds his rigid prick.
"Hmmm," she says. "So hard."
"Only for you," he whispers as she grips his shaft.
"I was hoping to find you in a state where you'd be ready and willing to be fucked."
"Always," he says. "I am at your beck and call."
"But you've been injured," she reminds him, pouting playfully.
"Your presence heals me," he says, which pleases her. She feels her pussy throb at his eagerness.
"Are you healed enough for me to fuck you?"
"Yes, Mistress," he replies keenly, even though he is in no fit state. "I'm always ready for you to fuck. Please, use me as you see fit. Fuck me, My Lady."
She strokes his hard dick before leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.
"Good boy," she says, as she thumbs his dripping tip. "How shall we do this?"
"However you desire," he says.
"I don't want to injure you more than you already are."
"Do what you will," he offers. "I am here for your pleasure, My Lady."
She grins and tightens her grip on his big, red cock as she hastens her ministrations. He is beyond hard and aching for her.
"Remove these," she orders, referring to his underwear. She lets go of his manhood and Rick draws the garment from his hips, then kicks them off; he winces from the pain in his side. Lady Michonne watches as he strips himself and his sex springs upwards, standing defiantly in the cool night air. He chances a glance at her as his dick quivers, missing her touch.
Suddenly, she stands. She reaches her hands up underneath her gown and pulls her panties downward. She steps out of them and then draws her dress from her upper body. Her pert breasts now on display. Rick watches, sure that he just might come from taking in her magnificent form. She removes the dress and lets it fall to the floor before rubbing her hands over her tits. Her nipples stiffen from her attention. Rick's mouth waters as he stays lying in place.
Lady Michonne reaches out to stroke his sex once more before she climbs onto the bed. She straddles him, careful not to touch his wound. He places his rough hands to her silky thighs to hold her steadily.
"I'm going to ride you, now," she whispers.
"Thank you, My Lady," he supplies as she shifts her position. She takes hold of his swollen cock and guides it to her dripping center.
She inches herself down onto his manhood. He holds his breath as she envelops him. Taking his entire length between her engorged lips. She feels so warm and wet and Rick has to find some composure so that he doesn't come right then. Lady Michonne rolls her hips as she grows accustomed to the feeling of her Tribute's big, thick cock back inside of her.
"Hmmm," she moans as she grinds on top of him. "You're so fucking good."
Rick says nothing as he relishes in the feeling of her tight, hot cunt drenching his hard, veiny cock. She slides her pussy up and down as she shamelessly moans. Her hands press against his chest as she builds up momentum.
"Fuck," she whispers. "You feel so good. You're a good boy. Go ahead. You can touch me."
Rick needs no more encouragement as his hands massage her tits before slipping downward to her ass. He holds her in place as she rides him. Her sopping wet sex squeezes his hard cock as she rolls her hips expertly.
"Fuck," she whimpers. "You're so fucking hard."
"Only for you," he says as his eyes roll shut. She notices, and swiftly, but gently slaps his face.
"Watch me," she orders. "Watch me as I fuck you."
"Hmm, yes, Mistress," he moans. "Sorry, Mistress."
She bounces her ass up and down, swallowing his length with each movement.
"Ahhh," he breathes; a little out of pleasure, a little out of pain.
"Hmmm," she replies as she rides him harder and faster.
Her hands find his neck as she wraps them about his throat and grinds on top of him with more vigor. She slides her impossibly wet pussy up and down his aching cock as she chokes him. His head grows lighter, intensifying his pleasure. She fucks him and chokes him, causing his straining cock to shudder. Her climax draws closer and he doesn't know how long he can hold out for. He wants so badly to explode, but he needs his Lady to find her release first. She relinquishes her grip on his throat and brings her fingernails to his heaving chest. She claws at him as she rides him harder and harder and faster and faster. Her aching, dripping cunt clenches his throbbing cock as she creams all over it. Her walls quiver as her stiff little clit pulses.
"Ohh, fuck," she cries as she comes all over his red, raw cock.
She tightens her pussy just as Rick comes inside of her. His white, hot seed spurts into her womb as he cries loudly.
"Fuck," he breathes. "Oh, fuck. Thank you, Mistress. Thank you."
She rolls her hips as his stickiness gushes inside of her.
"Hmmmm," she moans, as she fights to catch her breath. "Good boy. Good fucking boy."
As her orgasm ripples through her, Lady Michonne leans down and captures Rick's lips with her own. Their tongues lap at one another before she bites his bottom lip. They pant and whimper as their pleasure washes over them. He is no longer wary of his injury; she is far beyond sated.
She kisses his face as he whispers, "Oh, god, My Lady. I love you. Fuck, I love you."
Lady Michonne smiles against his warm skin and says, "Good."
A/N: This was their respite before the next instalment where Lady Michonne's plan is finally put into action. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading.