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ring-my-dang-doo · 5 years ago

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I’m just as illiterate as Abigail but decided to write a goofy fanfic? Sorry in advance for littering this site with Micah smut 🤷🏼‍♀️☺️

Tw: sex, fighting, kidnap, lack of syntax and grammar, Micah.

Word count: 7384 (hefty)

“Fuck!” The girl spat bitterly into the frigid air, her bow was in her right hand and the elk that she had just shot was way over a hundred metres away with one of her arrows still lodged in its shoulder. She was about eight miles from home already and was very reluctant to move further away on her new horse, he was trying his best, she could tell but he’d get spooked by elk and up and bolt for no reason at all with the girl still on his back, holding on for dear life.

She thought about her cupboards back at the cabin, she’d ran out of any salted meats and she couldn’t leave the mountains in this weather. Pressing on, further through the mountains, she found herself struggling to find any type of life, there was no elk, no deer, not even a moose in the white abyss. There wasn’t even a chance that she could track anything as the snow just continued to cover any type of track, not that she knew much about that anyway. She put her head down, despite wearing a balaclava to shield herself from the bitter cold, her eyes were streaming and needed that extra protection, her horse rode on for another few minutes, while she rested.

She heard it before she saw it. She sat up as straight as an arrow on her saddle and immediately locked eyes with it, it was a bighorn ram. Almost as soon as they had time to register each other, he darted away.

The girl nudged the horse slightly with the heel of her boot, he took off galloping. The girl drew an arrow from her quiver that rested on her hip and set it on the nook of her bow, she pulled the arrow back and waited for the right moment to arrive.

As her horse began to tire, so did her arm, she knew it was now or never and released the arrow. It hit the ram and she gasped in relief when the creature didn’t get up again.

The girl was soon to dismount and scrambled over to the fresh corpse.

As she went to reach for her hunting knife, a gunshot rang out in the air, it was as clear as a bell and it made every part of her seize up- she was frozen there for a second, incredibly similar to the ram that had been stood before her a few moments prior, she refused to have the same fate as the sheep though, that wasn’t even an option. She began to back away slowly from the corpse, her father always told her to, in these types of situations, just put your hands up and comply and so she began to back away from the carcass and shuffle closer and closer to her horse, who was bucking and whinnying.

Then, once again, seemingly out of nowhere, there was another gunshot, she saw it hit the snow this time and it landed about two feet in front of her. The horse reared and immediately took off running, if the person on the other end of the rifle wanted to kill her, then they would have already and so she continued to hold her hands up and wished to disappear into her hood, her breath was unsteady and she felt extremely exposed.

Three horses made their way down from Mount Hagen, they kicked up a trail of powdery snow behind them and made their way over towards her. They must have been the men that shot at her, they certainly didn’t look too friendly and so she quietly prayed under her breath, hoping that she wouldn’t die and that this was all one big case of mistaken identity.

The men approached and she continued to hold her hands up, her bow was stowed on her horse and so other than her hunting knife, she had absolutely nothing to defend herself with if anything were to happen. “You fucking idiot” she cursed to herself, too quiet for them to hear.

They all dismounted their horses and made their way over, there was a tall man with dark hair that hung by his crooked cheekbones, a slightly shorter, skinny man with thinning hair and last to dismount his horse was a medium build man with shoulder length blonde hair and a handle-bar moustache, each of the men wore hats, casting a shadow across each of their faces.

“It’s good to finally meet ya, ya bastard” The short man growled, he spat on the ground in front of her, “I’m gonna enjoy this!”

Before the girl could even apologise, the man grabbed her by her shoulders and threw her to the snowy ground, he began bombarding her with punches. Was she being robbed? The girl grabbed one of the stray jabs and punched him back, she got him right in his hooked nose and he backed away, groaning and clutching his face. The girl scrambled to her feet and stood waiting for the next attempt at a fight.

“You’re gonna regret that, you son of a bitch!” He growled, the punch she threw wasn’t enough to make his nose bleed, but it did give her a minute to get her bearings, everything that her daddy taught her about compliance in these situations had gone entirely out of the window.

While she got ready for the skinny man to continue the fight, she glanced at the other two men, the taller one seemed ready to get involved, he was very tense, while the blonde one was standing with his hands on his either side of his hips, clutching his belt with a stupid grin on his face,

“Punch that half-pint bastard, Cleet!” He yelled.

The man, who she assumed was ‘Cleet’ started towards her, the girl quickly removed her gloves and threw them in the snow beside her, hoping that she’d pack a better punch without the soft leather to pad her already soft fists, and it worked.

As soon as he tried to strike her, she slapped him with her backhand. Which caused a stir in the blonde man who was watching from the distance, “You hit like a little bitch!” He sneered, Cleet didn’t think so, his cheek immediately turning red from the smack and quickly made up for it by socking the girl straight in the jaw. She felt tears pricking her eyes slightly, getting punched was definitely as unpleasant as she remembered.

The girl realised that there was no way that she was going to win this fight with her slapping him to death, although the thought did amuse her slightly when it really shouldn’t have, so instead she waited for him to get ready to punch and she tackled him, he immediately fell to the floor with a grunt and she pummelled his face with punches.

The punches were not regular punches, they were erratic, hammer-fisted blows to his entire face.

She’d totally forgotten about the men behind her, when she suddenly felt a strong blow to the back of her skull, she lurched forward and staggered to her feet, stepping on Cleet. She turned around and concluded that the taller man had kicked her in the back of the head. It seemed as though Cleet wasn’t getting back up and his friend decided to step in instead, it was apparent that the blond man was steering clear from any of this.

The man towered over her, there was no way that she could win this fairly.

The girl quickly reached into her knife sheath and pulled out her hunting knife, before swiping furiously at him, cutting a sizeable slice into his cheek. The man cried out in pain.

“Micah, gimme your knife.” He grunted, the girl backed down slightly, contemplating turning around and sprinting away, but then realised that it was a ridiculous plan because these men had horses and guns.

The blond man, who she assumed was Micah scoffed slightly, “You can’t even handle a man half your height? What the hell is wrong with you? I’ll finish it myself.”

‘Man?! What a pair of clowns’ she thought, still clutching her knife with white knuckles. The taller man fell back whilst the louder, blond man stepped towards her.

“You ain’t so tough, half-pint” He snarled, flipping and catching his knife. She scowled at him, ready to cut him whenever he wanted to advance. Then, he ran at her, it was so quick she had no clue what to do, she stood upright with her legs apart to steady her balance and tried to counter whatever he threw at her.

He took a few swings at her with the knife, all of which she managed to get away from.

As she readied her knife to sink it into his right side, he brought his foot up and kicked her, right in between the legs, she grunted slightly, it was a very hard kick- it hurt a lot but any man would have been incapacitated by the blow. Micah looked down at her, wide eyed by her lack of any reaction,

“What the hell?” He cried, she took the opportunity to try to take the knife off of him. She grabbed his hand and began trying to pry it open to get him to drop it, he refused and got around the back of her, he scooped his arms under her shoulders and held her close to him, restraining her from any sort of movements, she struggled in his grip and she kicked and grunted but he was not letting go, she stopped struggling and lay her head back, it fell against Micah’s chest, she was much shorter than him, there was no way she could get out of this hold without being killed.

“Joe, come finish this bastard off.” He ordered, waving his knife around, the taller man sauntered over, he had a stupid grin on his face and he snatched Micah’s knife.

“He cut my face up, Micah. Where am I getting this bastard first?” Joe spat. Micah chuckled darkly in her ear and went to place a hand on the left side of her chest, her face burned red under the wool balaclava that she was wearing, as instead of the flat pectoral he was expecting, he instead clutched her left breast.

“Right he-“ he paused for a minute “what in the hell?!”

Joe stopped in his tracks as Micah let the girl go and threw her down on her back it knocked the air out of her and she sputtered slightly. Micah was quick to straddle her,

“What the hell is going on here?” He muttered under his breath, he brought his hand up to her hood and yanked it down and then peeled off her balaclava.

The apples of her cheeks became rosy with the sudden exposure to the cold and her breathing became shallow as he laid eyes on her, properly. He had a look about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, something cruel and plotting.

As soon as the blond man had taken her balaclava off, his eyes had lit up, the way that her hair painted the snow behind her head like a halo, the way that her eyes burned with anger and frustration and how her lips were so full and inviting.

“Look at what we have here, Joe.” Micah purred, he put a hand to her cheek, her skin was soft to the touch, like a flesh coloured velvet and a small trail of blood was leaking from her right nostril. Joe’s ugly head came into frame, and he sneered at her,

“He’s a girl?!”

Micah glared at him, “Yeah she is, a mighty fine looking one, too. Women are different to men, Joe. They’re much easier to get information out of”

The girl scowled at him, she’d play along with his stupid games, for compliance sake.

The golden haired man acknowledged her look of disgust and smirked ever so slightly,

“I’m sorry, Miss. What’re you doing all the way out here?” He asked in a tone so nice it came across as sour. He wasn’t going to believe anything she said, either way.

“I was out here hunting.” She squeaked, “I killed a bighorn, it’s over there.”

He shook his head and shushed her,

“If you were hunting bighorn, you’d need a horse and a gun. You don’t have either.”

She felt her blood boil in frustration,

“This bighorn is right over there and you shot at my horse, he ran away!”

Micah shook his blond head,

“Now now, missy, don’t raise your voice. As far as me and joe here are concerned, you’re a dirty Pinkerton, you only came here to spy on us, you’re gonna have to come back with us. Joe, go grab that bighorn!”

He saw her shoot the bighorn, after all, he was the one to take the shot at her horse, originally he did think that she was a Pinkerton but this did all add up to him.

Joe walked away from them and out of the girl’s line of sight. Micah grabbed a slack piece of rope that hung from his waist and pulled it straight, he maintained eye contact with the girl while he did so, “Now look, you’re coming back with us and I don’t want a fight from you, or else you’ll end up like the bighorn, do you understand?”

The girl took a deep breath in and thought about the compliant approach that she’d need to take, how that was the only way she’d be able to escape from this situation.

“Yes sir.” She breathed, the man barked with laughter, making the girl jump and he began tying her wrists together,

“I like that. I like that a lot.”

The binds on her wrists were tight, so tight that they sort of burned, when he was finished he stood up, scooped her up over his shoulder and began to walk back in the direction that he came from, she looked up at Joe who was a few feet behind them and was carrying her ram carcass,

“What’re we doing about Cleet?”

Micah suddenly leaned forward and the girl was back on her feet again, he gestured towards the horse and she scrambled to get on, which was proving difficult without the use of both her arms but she managed.

“Wake him up, we don’t have time to be loitering” he barked, “Me and the woman are heading back to camp, I’ll meet you and Cleet back there.”

Joe stowed the ram and sighed, a visible gash in his face from the fight that had broken out a few minutes prior.

Before the girl even had time to think about where he was taking her, the horse began to gallop away, she wobbled slightly as his riding was erratic but she steadied herself and he carried on.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” His tone had entirely changed since he’d realised that she was in fact a woman. She paused for a moment, she can’t say she felt comfortable with handing this man her name but at the same time she had to comply to get out of here and she knew that this man was not very patient and so she lied. It was a stupid lie, not a very believable one but it didn’t register to the girl how stupid it was until it left her mouth.

“I don’t have one.”

She cursed herself, internally but to her surprise, the man seemed indifferent,

“I’ve got a few names in mind for ya.”

“So, lamb-chop, your cute little ass was out huntin’ all damn day? Why didn’t your big, strong husband go do it for you, instead?” Micah’s speech was slurred, he had a slight pink glow to his cheeks and he reeked of bourbon and cigarettes.

The girl scowled at the back of his head, hoping that somehow she’d get through his dense skull,

“Look Mister, I don’t have a husband, I live out here alone!”

The words tumbled from her lips and she immediately wished that she could put them back, she couldn’t be certain but she was sure that she felt Micah chuckle slightly. The girl had no idea where they were, the thick blanket of snow totally knocked any bearings that the girl had. The girl straightened her back up and checked over Micah’s shoulder, a camp stood. There were three wooden buildings that stood a few hundred yards before them and a campfire, “It’s been a while since the boys in camp have seen a lady, I hope for your sake that they behave.”

The girl shuddered, there were more of these men? It had never even crossed her mind that men as toxic as this could congregate in such large groups.

Micah hitched his horse in camp, she’d elicited no reaction as of yet from the men gathered around a larger campfire. Micah helped her off the horse and led her over towards the campfire by the binds between her wrists. There were about a dozen men shivering around the fire, 24 sets of teeth chattering away in unison. The girl wanted to turn around and sprint away from the scene, one million and one scenarios running through her head.

A few heads turned as the pair approached the glow of the burning wood and Micah paraded her around the outside of the campfire, “Don’t any of you even think about touching her, she’s nobody’s business.”

He pulled the girl over to an unused hitching post behind the fire and pushed her back against the post. The pair stood inches away from each other for an awkward moment of silence and she finally got a good look at him, her eyes glazed every part of his face- he was oddly good looking, despite his loud mouth and his bad attitude. Micah’s eyes were like nothing she’d ever seen before, they reminded her so much of the frozen lake near her cabin, they were pleasant to look at but the contact their eyes had was terrifying, she felt that if she stared any longer that she’d crash through the ice and drown. His face was pale but he had a consistent pink glow to the tip of his nose and the apples of his cheeks, in fact if she wasn’t in this situation, she could see herself being quite infatuated with him.

He must have picked up on her staring and furrowed his brows at her, “What do you want? You look scared stiff” His voice was cold and mocking and she retorted by quickly tearing her eyes away from his features. Micah chuckled slightly, placing a gloved hand on her covered shoulder and caressing it ever so slightly,

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I have that effect on most women.”

Micah’s idea of flirting was interrupted by a shout from the other side of camp, he looked over his shoulder at the commotion and then looked back at her,

“Looks like Cleet’s back and he don’t look too happy, sweetheart.”

The girl had hoped she’d killed him, honestly but alas here he was, trudging angrily through the snow towards the pair.

“Where is she, Micah?!” He growled, his hands balled into fists. Micah removed his hand from her shoulder, leaving a warm print of where he had been and stood in front of her, turning to face Cleet head-on.

“Cleet, go sleep it off, you backed her into a corner, she’s a fine woman.” The flattery in his voice was almost cringeworthy however he continued to shield her from Cleet, who had poked his head over Micah’s shoulder to get a better look at her,

“You’d better watch yourself, you stupid little bitch.” His voice was a sharp hiss that made her try to back off slightly, but he soon gave up and angrily huffed over to the fire. Micah turned back around to the girl who stood with her back pressed against the hitching post,

“Look.” He started, nothing he said sounded authentic to her, it all sounded so disingenuous and taunting, “We ain’t good men, we’re bad people and honestly, the Pinkertons showing up is not something I want to happen right now. If you’re honest about you just hunting, then the Pinkertons shouldn’t show up and you can go free tomorrow morning.”

The girl processed what he said and nodded,

“Yes sir, thank you.” Micah brought his hand up and squeezed the girl’s cheeks in between his thumb and forefinger,

“You’d better not be crooked, Girl because I wouldn’t take any pleasure from putting a bullet between those eyes.” He spoke in a purr, his accent a sultry drawl, he produced a knife from his sheath and to her surprise cut her ties, “Now come drink with us, the boys won’t bite!”

The girl sat beside Micah at the campfire, the evening was creeping up on them, the sky had turned from a stone grey to a warm orange colour. The girl sat and stared at the sun setting below the horizon, maybe this would be the last sunset she’d ever see. The girl felt a cold pressure against her thigh, she turned her head to Micah who had a slight smirk on his lips and a bottle of whisky resting on her thigh, “Drink up, sweetheart. It’s good whiskey!”

The girl took the bottle from him and brought it to her lips, the contents didn’t go down too well, it was a harsh taste that made her grimace. As she handed the bottle back to Micah, Cleet and Joe sat on the logs opposite them.

“You boys doin ok?” Micah queried, the girl felt all confidence built with Micah crumble as soon as they’d sat and she shifted her view away from any particular person and to the snowy ground.

Joe grunted in affirmation, whereas Cleet piped up, “I’m fucking freezing, Micah. My face aches, thanks to that little whore and I’m stuck in this frozen shithole.” Micah had to admit, he’d never seen Cleet so heated up in the entire time he’d known the man and he turned his attention to the girl, she kicked the snow beneath her feet, seemingly indifferent to the cold as she found refuge in her warm, sheepskin coat that was as sexy as a potato sack. Micah kicked her gently in the shin, not to hurt her, just to get her attention.

“Take your coat off.” He barked, the girl was quick to protest but was cut off by Micah, “You hurt Cleet pretty bad, least you can do is lend him your coat!”

Reluctantly, she began to unbutton it, she felt the silent, judgemental gazes from the rest of the camp as she slipped it off her shoulders and held it out towards Cleet, who quite happily took the coat and wrapped it around his slender frame. Micah wasn’t looking at Cleet, he was much more invested in the girl, she wore a frilly chemise that carelessly slipped off of her shoulders as her arms wound around herself in a futile attempt to protect herself from the cold, he’d cupped a generous handful of her full chest while the pair were scuffling, however he had no idea that she was so well formed. Micah shook the bottle in the girl’s direction and she was hasty to get another burning shot down her throat.

“It’s nice to see a docile young woman like yourself put away her liquor like it’s nobody’s business” His voice back to the same sickly sweet tone. The girl shrugged and offered him back the bottle. The blonde haired man was drunk, he swayed from side to side on the log, wrapping his arm around the girl’s waist and shuffling slightly over towards her.

The girl felt Micah edge closer and she didn’t mind it, the whiskey had warmed her cheeks and brought a dizzying veil over her vision but the rest of her was cold and Micah was an extra source of heat for her. Joe put down his bottle and groaned at the display,

“I’m sorry Micah, this doesn’t seem safe.” It was the most she had heard him say, her head raised slightly to look at him talk, but Micah had already cut in,

“What doesn’t seem safe?” He slurred, tightening his grip around the girl. Joe exhaled through his nose, the girl could tell that he really didn’t like any confrontation between himself and Micah,

“She doesn’t wanna be here, you’re all over her right now but what’s to say that she won’t just run away?” He was totally right, that’s what the girl wanted to do.

“She ain’t gonna run, Joe. Look at her, she’s a scared little lamb, if you stand within a foot of her you can hear her fluttering little heart in that... superb chest”

“I understand that she’s meek, but I really don’t think we can just let her drink with us. She’s probably a Pinkerton.” Joe was far more cautious than she’d first thought, she thought that there wasn’t much going on behind his dead eyes, but turns out there was a whole lot of paranoia.

“She’ll do exactly what I tell her to, Joe. As I said, she’s a lamb”

Micah got up real close to her, the closer he got, the more she turned her head to get away from him, he gripped her face in his hands and turned her head to face him,

“And you know exactly what that makes me, don’t you little girl? I’m a god damn lion and you are nothing more than a lamb. Is that understood?”

The total change in behaviour towards her straightened her back up, his words were replaying in her head over and over, she was prey to this man, “uhuh” she grunted in compliance.

He tutted and gripped her thigh in his other hand, “I thought you knew better than that, sweetheart... Say it again, properly.”

“Yes sir.”

Micah exhaled, a smile playing on his lips, he loosened his grip of the girls waist and took another swig of whiskey, men on the other side of camp had begun to head off to their lodgings one by one, eventually it was just gonna be her and Micah and the thought of that terrified her. Micah handed her the bottle,

“Wrap your lips around that, lamb chop or else the cold will get to ya”

There was a small amount left in the bottom of the bottle that she finished off, letting the empty bottle drop to the snow. Micah chuckled slightly, “I’ll go get us another one, don’t you worry your pretty little head, lamb chop.”

Micah managed to pry his hand from her waist and stumble away towards the cabins, leaving the girl alone, aside from the two rat-men opposite her. She wasn’t looking, but she heard the footsteps approach from opposite her, when the feet came into her view, she saw the fur trim of her coat, it was Cleet.

He sat down beside her, where Micah had just been and she reluctantly looked up at him,

“It’s a shame you had to go and punch me.” He hissed. The girl furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head to one side,

“What do you mean? You would have killed me”

Cleet scoffed, “I was just roughing you up a bit”

The girl shook her head. She could have died and yet he was acting as though nothing was ever wrong.

“I was!” He assured, “If I’d have known you were a... Lady, I’d have never.”

She squinted her eyes at him, the alcohol must have been giving her some kind of a second wind as she laughed in his face, it wasn’t the type of laugh you would do in the company of a friend, it was a scornful cackle.

“I’m serious! You obviously don’t like Micah so stop being a bitch and come and drink with me, instead!” He was trying to flirt, the desperation was painful to watch and she found herself not wanting to laugh, but feeling herself getting angrier, her blood began to boil and she finally managed to spit her words out,

“I may not like Micah, but at least he’s not a leech like you, you’re a total parasite, you can’t fight, you can’t flirt and you sure as hell wouldn’t be alive without Micah because I’d have broken your skull open back there without him.” Cleet huffed out a laugh in disbelief and stood up, he walked back to Joe in silence and she thought that was going to be the end of it, that is before Cleet pulled out his revolver and pointed it in the direction of the girl.

“Ok, I can’t flirt, I can’t fight but I’ll tell you what, I’ll do more than a good job when I’m cleaning the pieces of your skull out of the snow.” The girl honestly thought that that was going to be it, she was going to die on Mount Hagen, that was until she felt an arm snake around her waist and the strong smell of bourbon filled her nose.

“Cleet... How disrespectful.” Micah breathed it right down her neck, goosebumps instantly littered her arms, “You’d draw on an unarmed girl?”

Cleet’s face contorted into an angry bunch and he spat into the snow.

“You best watch where you step, girl.” Cleet pointed his gun at her for a few seconds more before returning it to his holster and storming off. Micah moved his hand up and clutched her bare arm.

“You’re freezing. Too bad you didn’t bring a coat.” He hissed, his eyes glistening as though chaotic fireworks were going off behind them, she met his tease with a small smile and took the bottle of bourbon from him. Joe shot Micah a steely look and shook his head before making a swift exit in the same direction as Cleet. Micah found himself grinning at the scene that his men had made, he gestured back to the makeshift bench that the pair were just sat at. The girl didn’t budge, he turned his attention from the campfire back to the woman in his grip, she was staring at him once again, he’d notice her do this once before, her brows were knitted together and her cheeks and nose were dusted with a rosey tint.

“What’s the matter, lamb chop?” He tightened his grip on her waist and felt her scoot slightly closer in an attempt to escape his crushing hold.

“I’m freezing, can we not go somewhere warmer?”

Micah chuckled deeply and licked his lips, before leaning into the girl and trying to get as close to a whisper as possible:

“Are you implying that you wanna come back to my room?”

The girl narrowed her eyes at the blonde man and smiled slightly,

“If it’ll get me out of the cold, then I suppose I am.”

Micah felt a small chill up his spine and noticed his hands becoming clammy, he often felt the need to make a scene in order to hide such weaknesses, but showed restraint for a reason that even he wasn’t too sure about. “Come on then, lambchop.”

The pair trudged through the snow, around the campfire towards the large cabin. Thoughts of freedom ran through the girl’s head, while Micah drowned in thoughts of anxiety. He knew that his quarters was no place for a lady, his bed was unkempt, he’d have been better off asking to use Joe’s camp, not that he’d have allowed him to.

He did the honours of opening the door for the girl, he pushed her indoors, swiftly and followed her in, bolting it behind her.

It was the first time in a while that she had been free from Micah’s arm around her and so she gingerly approached the beds to the left.

“Which one’s yours?” She queried, turning to look at her captor. He was removing his leather coat with his back to her, upon asking the question she watched him flinch and he glanced at her over his shoulder, his anxiety was apparent. He plucked the hat from his head and threw it on the impromptu table in the centre of the room, this also housed a hunting knife and a book of “the American inferno” by Evelyn Miller, this caught the girl off guard, he didn’t strike her as a philosopher.

Micah pointed to the far bed and the girl made her way over. She snatched up the canvas bedroll and wrapped it around her bare arms. She was looking at her boots, but she could hear him sauntering over and felt the weight shift on the bed. She looked up at the man who now sat beside her, he wasn’t hiding beneath the shadow of his hat and she found herself strangely charmed, his hair wasn’t the honey-blonde that she’d taken it for, although she was sure that it once was, it was a sweptback greying-blonde, matching his moustache. As she admired his facial hair, she noticed a deep scar on his chin.

“Where’d you get that scar?” It was the alcohol talking, she didn’t often ask people about their scars or where they got them, but the words found themselves falling out of her mouth. He brought his hand up to his jaw and ran his thumb along the damaged tissue,

“Where’d you learn to ask annoying questions?”

The girl scoffed and took a swig of bourbon.

“Same place you learned to shave” The girl watched his face contort into a scowl, before smiling and placing a hand on his knee, “I’m kidding.”

His shoulders dropped and he faked a laugh,

“Very good, Lamb chop.”

She tightened her hold on his leg and drank some more bourbon,

“I’m not a Pinkerton.” She offered him back the bottle and he gladly took it, a smirk hidden beneath his facial hair.

“I can believe that, but it’s late, I couldn’t have a girl like yourself getting lost in the snow....” his tone made her hair stand on end, he leaned in close to her ear, his breath was heavy and his moustache tickled her soft cheek as he gently trailed off in a drunken drawl “...There’s a lot of men out there who’d do terrible things to you.” The girl found herself smirking, her chemise fell from its shelf on her left shoulder with help from Micah’s groping hands. Micah pulled away from her ear, his eyes were narrow and his gaze was fixed on her own. Despite his offensive exterior, she felt herself gravitating towards him, she knew exactly why he was making her stay, he had a one track mind. His lips collided with hers, her lips were so plump and soft in comparison to his, his rough facial hair catching her upper-lip, slightly. He tugged at her wrist, guiding her hand down to his crotch. The girl was inexperienced, although this wasn’t her first time, the thought of touching a man in such a lewd area made her cheeks burn. She rubbed him through his jeans and she felt him stir beneath the fabric, and he ran both of his hands up her legs under her chemise, working his way up. The fingers of his left hand dug fiercely into her hips, while his right hand played with what he was there for.

As soon as he pressed his thumb against the small knot of nerves, a small parcel of shock escaped her throat and developed into a moan. His lack of awareness as to how rough he was being shocked her more than anything else. He smirked, his eyes twinkling with malevolence,

“You like that, don’t you, lamb?” His thumb began to move: cruel, torturous movements, the girl’s eyes were wide and her mouth was agape at his unrefined technique, he was thrilled with her expression- what was once a shy girl he had turned into a dripping-wet mess. With his thumb still in place, he ran his middle finger down until he found the opening, she was saturated, Micah’s unbearably rough method somehow worked. Denied of her orgasm, Micah ripped his hand away from her sex and began hurriedly unbuckling his jeans, as though he was under some time of time constraint, his jeans dropped as far as his knees would allow them too before he awkwardly shuffled them down his shins, the only sounds were the faint noise of the camp outside, a rustling of fabric and Micah’s heavy breathing.

By the time he was finished drunkenly battling with his pants, he was stood up, he let out a loud sigh and looked at the girl, who was eagerly awaiting his return. He crawled up the bed, a hand on either side of her, their faces parallel to each other, his mane of gold and silver hung from his head. His hand was busy fumbling down below his belt, his arm moving in an erratic way as he prepared himself.

“I’m ready for you, princess.” He was breathless already and as he pulled her chemise down and grabbed her breast, she took note of how clammy his hands were. Micah cursed himself mentally, the girl was bored and he could tell, her eyelids grew heavy and his window was very slowly closing.

Without warning, he slid the tip of his member up her entrance, the warm, welcoming wetness of it felt like a Utopia next to the tundra that they were stuck in. He looked down at her, with eyes full of lust and her lip bitten, she waited in sheer anticipation for him to slowly ease his way into her entrance, there wasn’t much light from the near-extinguished lantern, but the little that there was showed him all he needed to see, her breasts were soft and her nipples erect from a combination of arousal and sheer cold. Micah looked directly into her eyes, his gaze almost as cold as outside and he suddenly thrust his entire length into her.

Instinctively she cried out, it was one of the most arousing and beautiful symphonies that he’d ever heard in his life, the way that her walls clung to him snuggly, with every thrust it felt like she was pushing him out and he loved every moment of this struggle. He carried on forcing his way through, with every thrust she felt her insides cry out. Micah’s thrusts were anything but regular, these were strong, painful and unpredictable rams that hit her deep. Micah grunted as he carried on, he’d developed a sheen on his forehead, she could just about see his face in this low light, his pale blue irises contrasted with the dark circles that stained the skin around his strangely pretty eyes.

“Like what you see, lamb chop?” The blond huffed rhetorically, between breaths. His thrusts were getting stronger and deeper now and his breaths were shallow grunts that alchemized into dreamy clouds of fog due to the harsh weather.

Her head spun and with every thrust of his, she felt a strange sensation deep within her, an odd numbness, similar to pins and needles but far less painful, her short breaths had slowly but surely gotten louder and turned into little moans. Micah leaned in closer to her and chuckled quietly, “You’re close, lamb chop.”

He cupped his left hand on her corresponding breast and wrapped his right hand around her throat, his deep, unpredictable pushes had turned into quick jabs, each one hitting her deeply. At this rate, he was forcing the moans from between her lips, the numbness was ringing out throughout her entire womanhood now, every nerve ending singing at the mercy of Micah’s length and then it was upon her: like nothing she’d ever felt before, she just about managed to cry out a strained “Micah�� despite his grip on her throat, before her legs began to twitch and her walls collapsed around Micah’s shaft.

Micah released his grip from her delicate throat and raised his hand to her face, he cupped the girl’s cheek and bit his lower lip, slightly swollen from the chill,

“There’s a good little lamb, but don’t forget, I’ve still gotta finish, too.”

The girl nodded, “Yes sir.” She whimpered, she was being overstimulated and toyed with, his thrust was still strong and ruthless and he loved seeing the pathetic, helpless little look on her face as he continued to stir up her insides. Micah groaned deeply, she began to claw at the blankets beneath her, he was unsure if she was writhing or drowning in pleasure, but he knew that he loved it.

Moans began spilling out, desperate, pleading moans, they sounded intoxicated with pleasure as the writhing mess before him began to clutch at what she could of Micah, the girl weaved her fingers into his greying hair and Micah, in turn brought his face closer to her own.

“You alright there, lamb chop?” His voice a hiss, he knew exactly how good this must have felt for her, he just wanted to hear it for himself, her eyes latched to his and he felt his heart flutter slightly, like he’d ever admit it; her eyelids were heavy, she parted her lips slightly and her eyes quickly fell, despite everything he was doing to her, she was still shy. Then she spoke, quiet as a mouse, she breathed:

“Like nothing I’ve ever felt...” As soon as he heard it, he pushed his lips up against her own. The kiss wasn’t an ounce passionate, it was cold and lustful, his teeth lingered on her lower lip and he bit down reasonably hard, coaxing a muffled sound from within the girl.

His thrusts had become harder, slower and more deliberate, he was close and he wanted to savour every moment that he spent inside of her, as he pushed deeper and harder, he’d find himself trying to hold back the curses from under his breath. As he felt himself reaching the end of his tether, he gripped a handful of the girl’s hair which was greeted with a small Yelp,

“Now, missy. I’m gonna use you for what you’re good for.” He purred, his voice a total drawl, “You’re gonna take my seed, Lamb chop and you’re gonna take it like a good girl.” She went to protest, but all that managed to escape was a moan: a back arching, feminine moan that made the hair on the back of Micah’s neck stand on end and managed to push him over the edge.

Micah’s release wasn’t anywhere near as audible as the girl’s was, but the small growl he summoned behind his gritted teeth was just as real to her, his release was more than either of them could have expected, it immediately spilled out of her and dripped onto the bedroll beneath her. Micah, although out of breath and very drunk, sat back to see what he’d done and almost immediately a smile tugged at his lips,

“And they said Arthur was the artist of the gang...” He scoffed, before laying down next to the girl,

“Who the hell is Arthur?” She pressed, a smile on her face to match his, Micah shook his head as if to say ‘forget about it’.

His chest was far too inviting to her and so she rolled over and rested her head on the right side of his chest, he was warm and strangely comforting which was unexpected. The girl looked up at him and he smirked slightly, eyes not leaving her’s, “You’re such a good, obedient girl, lamb chop…” he breathed, putting his hand up against her head and holding her close to his chest, “and to think that I was just gonna kill you and rob you.”

The girl’s blood ran cold at the thought of it, Micah laughed it off once more and then yawned loudly.

“You’ve really took it out of me, lamb chop” He said, groggily, it honestly surprised the girl how quickly he managed to get to sleep, it was almost instantaneous, but there she was stuck, truly a lamb in the arms of a lion, a snoring, drunk, old lion.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead #red dead redemption 2 #micah bell smut #micah bell headcanon #micah bell #fanfiction

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