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We Belong Among The Wildflowers

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The abandoned campground was depressing and eerie. The cabins that had once housed rowdy children during the summer were silenced, probably forever. Andrea and Michonne were camped out in one of them, resting a bunk bed. For whatever reason, Michonne had insisted on taking the top bunk. They'd pushed the other beds against the windows and the door. It offered not much in the way of protection. Andrea figured Michonne had picked the top bunk because if walkers did get in, she'd have maybe a minute longer to fight. Andrea wouldn't be so lucky.

It was a grim thought. But times were grim.

The blonde stared up at the bunk above her. There was fossilized gum stuck to the slats that held the mattress aloft. Scribbles and scratches. “GH loves SL.” Andrea sighed. Little things like that just made her sad. They hearkened back to a life before, a life that had disappeared the moment the dead decided not to stay dead.

She listened to the slow sound of breathing above her. Michonne was asleep now. The other woman had managed to compartmentalize things so they didn't overwhelm her. At least not in a way that was clearly visible. For all Andrea knew, she was suffering just as much as she was. She had to be. Only sociopaths would embrace this new world with open arms.

Michonne had to be struggling. She hid it well though. Andrea tried to think of how the woman would be if she did break down. She didn't like it, so she banished the image from her mind. She did not want to see Michonne in pain.

She'd become so fond of her, and thought of her so tenderly. She didn't show it much, because she had no idea how the other woman would react. Andrea was used to women pushing her away when she showed tenderness towards them. In her experience, nothing scares straight women more than a bisexual woman hitting on them in earnest.

Andrea stretched out her legs, her toes spreading, then relaxing. It occurred to her that she had the luxury of a bed. It was dusty, and probably filled with vermin, but it was still a bed. The woman above her was sleeping soundly. She could indulge herself a little.

She slipped her hands down under the sleeping bag. The sound of the zipper was loud in the silence of the cabin, and she pushed her jeans down a little. She didn't feel like straining against the fabric. It had been a while since she'd had the occasion to masturbate. The last time had been on the farm...that was something else she didn't want to think about.

So she tried to think about something more pleasant. The thought of past encounters with men and women was no good. It just made her mourn them. She tried to think of caresses from formless, anonymous individuals, composites of people she'd found attractive in the past. That didn't work either.

That left Michonne. Andrea would have focused on her from the get go, but it felt a little strange considering she was only a few feet above her. But she was desperate for some nice thoughts that were free of death. And Michonne was alive.

She was so alive. So beautiful. Everything about her spoke of genteel beauty braced with strength. The other woman would probably scoff at that description. She didn't come off as sentimental. But Andrea was. In her mind, the blonde conjured up a scene. The two of them, in some overgrown field of flowers, free of any worry. No walkers to interrupt them. Perhaps Michonne would be wearing a dress, something bright orange and yellow. Something cheerful instead of the earth tones she wore. She managed to make them look good, but she deserved nicer, brighter colors. Andrea in a dress too, why not? Something light blue. That was a nice color. She kinda missed having the ability to dress up from time to time.

The two of them, in a flowery field, wearing pretty dresses. It was absurd, but it was making her smile. She thought of the both of them laughing, holding hands as they giggled and fell against each other. Laughing for just the joy of it, because they were together, and safe. She thought of the laughter becoming muffled by kisses. Soft at first, just chaste meetings of lips. It wouldn't stay chaste for long.

Andrea imagined pulling Michonne down to the ground with her, their hands lost over each other's skin as they kissed. She imagined their tongues meeting. The warm taste of Michonne's mouth. That was nice. That wasn't sad.

Her hand was under her underwear now, stroking her clit. She positioned her fingers so they would be directly on the tiny glad, not on the hood. She needed direct stimulation, it would make her climax faster that way.

She pretended it was Michonne who was stroking her, her hand under her dress, the other on her chest. Andrea rested her free hand on top of her chest, under her shirt. She could feel the inhale and exhale of breath from her lungs, and her heart, pumping away even though it had no reason to.

In the fantasy, Michonne was holding her close, still kissing her like it was the only thing in the world that she wanted to do. Andrea's hand would be under her dress as well. It wouldn't be fair otherwise. Thinking of that slick flesh under her fingers, hot and wet for her, made her moan. Her eyes flew open and her hand stilled. There was no sound from up above her, except for that breathing sound. She was safe.

Relaxing, she started again. She dipped her fingers inside of herself, and was surprised at how drenched she was. Andrea chalked it up to the lack of stimulation. The lubrication allowed her to move faster, and with greater comfort.

Her thoughts turned exclusively to the orgasm she wanted to achieve. Michonne's hand, Michonne's mouth, Michonne's perfect body. Those were the images that carried her through it. It hit her hard, making her hips press down into the thin mattress with a creak. Andrea's cheeks felt hot, and she kept gulping for air. The lack of contact had made her orgasm feel so strong, she actually felt weak from it. She tugged her pants back up, but didn't bother zipping them. If walkers came, she'd die with her fly open. So be it. Turning to her side, Andrea closed her eyes, riding out the good feelings the orgasm had brought. She fell asleep to thoughts of Michonne spooning her, the two of them surrounded by crushed flowers.


The sound of the blonde's voice woke Michonne up. It was a helpless gasping sound. At first she worried that the other woman was in the grip of some terrible nightmare, but the gasp turned into a moan. Soft, quiet sounds followed. They were unmistakable. Michonne just smiled. At least one of them was having a good time. Then she heard her name, whispered with such passion that it made her hold her breath.

“Michonne, oh god, Michonne, yes.”

She bit her bottom lip, listening to Andrea let out shivery gasps until she fell silent, and the mattress creaked. It took Michonne a while to get back to breathing normally.

Laying there, too flustered to sleep, she wondered if it would be safe to stay at the campground for more than a night. There were beds, and perhaps Andrea would be wanting to share one with her. She liked that idea quite a bit.