May I Have Your Attention, Please

A/N: Some Richonne smutty smut smut. Rick, you bad boy.

...

Rick was pissed off and Michonne was equally as piqued. What bothered him was how silly the root of their fight was: Michonne has cut off her locs. He stood on the steps listening to her fume to Carol and Tara.

"He acts like I should've discussed it with him first. Like I need his permission for a haircut," Michonne fumed.

Well, Rick wasn't going to stand back while she talked shit about him, even if she wasn't exactly wrong. He marched into the kitchen.

"I never said you needed my permission!"

"Daddy's home and he's mad," Tara said under her breath. Carol snorted.

"It's my head, Rick!"

"No kidding. Just some warning would've been nice."

She looked disgusted with him, that he would expect her to warn him of anything to do with her hairstyle. "You didn't warn me you were going to shave your beard when we got here."

"Like you cared if I shaved. You tried to get me to shave in Georgia, remember that? I just didn't think I'd come home today find you...bald."

Her mouth fell open, insulted. "I am not bald!"

"Did you two sneak off into the woods and get married while we weren't looking?" Carol asked. "You fight like an old married couple."

That shut them up for about five seconds, and then they were back at it, snipping at one another over pointless things that had nothing to do with her getting her hair cut.

"Let's not forget we have to get dressed," Carol shouted over them, trying to break it up. "Deanna's potluck, remember?"

"I'm leaving," Michonne said, and headed from the kitchen.

"Don't forget to wear a scarf since you had all your hair hacked off!" Rick called after her. He jumped back, defensive and almost fearful, when she turned like she was gonna come hit him, but Carol intervened and convinced Michonne to go with her upstairs.

"Why do you have to be such a dick about her haircut?" Tara asked Rick, once Carol and Michonne were gone.

"She just hacked all her hair off," he said, as though that was explanation enough. He only elaborated after Tara continued to stare blankly at him. "I hate it like this. I liked her long hair."

"But she didn't. That's why she cut it," Tara explained. "She wanted you to say she was beautiful, not jump on her back for doing something without consulting you first."

"But-"

"It's her hair, Rick. She doesn't need your approval. Besides, she's not bald. She left a good portion on top."

Tara left to go to her own house to get dressed and Rick sighed. He knew Tara was right and he couldn't figure out why her cutting off her hair was annoying him so much, but at the end of the day it was Michonne's hair to do with as she wished. He resigned himself to going out when he didn't feel like it and headed upstairs to get dressed.

…

The potluck was quiet, as they usually were, with boring music, boring people, and boring conversation. Rick needed the bourbon to get him through it, especially with Michonne giving him the cold shoulder. And it was a cold shoulder, that was for sure, colder than the snow falling outside. Colder than the wind that had cut through his pant legs as they'd walked a block over to Deanna's house from theirs. Michonne had stubbornly refused to wear a scarf so Rick had tucked one around his neck. He'd make sure she wore it on the way home when it was darker and even colder.

They made plates of meatballs and veggies and finger sandwiches and Rick sat down at the only empty chair at the table, which was beside Michonne. He had to squeeze in to allow Daryl room on his other side when he drug a folding chair up to them to have a seat.

"You want me to pour you a drink?" Rick asked her.

Just like with all his other questions that evening Michonne ignored him and poured herself a glass of water. That just pissed him off more. He didn't know why her pretending he didn't exist angered him so much but it did. He wished he could think of a way to force her attention to him, to force her to stop ignoring him. Also, he wanted to piss her off, get back at her for acting like she'd never heard of him, like he was some annoying little boy she hoped would go away if she didn't look at him.

When her glass of water spilled and dribbled onto her skirt he immediately, without thought, grabbed a napkin and cleaned it up, and then dabbed at the spill on her skirt. It drew up, past her knee, and a slow smile tugged at Rick's lips. He kept dabbing, purposefully inching her skirt up higher on her leg.

Michonne shot him one look, a filthy one full of resentment, before going back to pretend he wasn't there.

"Try the meatballs, Daryl," she said, looking around Rick to smile at the archer, who nodded and started to pick one up with his fingers before a glare from Carol made him roll his eyes and he used his fork.

So, she'd talk to Daryl but not him.

Conversation finally started up. It was a bit less dull than shooting the shit about nothing in particular. This conversation was something that was useful: expanding the wall and making room for some greenhouses, as well as producing medicines. An apothecary was needed, as well as a lab for making of medicines. While Deanna discussed it with Abraham and the others Rick placed his hand on Michonne's knee and moved it up mid-thigh, pulling her skirt with it.

She clenched her legs closed and looked at him, glared at him, but he refused to be deterred, refused to let her push his hand away.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Try the meatballs, Michonne," he said in his best smart ass tone of voice, which made her glare even more intense.

As soon as she shifted he ran his hand up, right between her legs, and felt the lacy texture of her panties over her warm womanhood. She was looking around as though convinced everyone at the table knew exactly where Rick's hand was, but no one was the wiser. They just continued talking while Rick gently squeezed her inner thigh.

Michonne seemed determined to play it off, kept her legs closed as tightly as possible, and continued eating, taking small, measured bites that she primly cut with her knife and fork. He let his little finger graze her center before pulling his hand free, leaving only his middle finger between her thighs.

A little more pressure made Michonne completely miss the meatball she was trying to cut. Her knife hit the plate loudly but she went right on cutting, just cutting the meatball until it lay in tiny pieces Judith could have easily chewed. His middle finger was against her now, and he could feel the heat between her legs increase. She reached with shaking hands for the decanter of homemade wine on the table and poured a small amount before downing it in one, and then filling her glass almost full.

Rick kept rubbing, refusing to relent in his assault on that sweet spot he knew he'd found because now his finger was getting moist even over her panties. He heard a tiny sound escape her when he reached deep, placing his finger between her and the plush material of the dining room chair. Her thigh muscles quivered and then she relaxed, ever so slightly, when he began applying pressure to her entrance, sinking ever so slightly into her folds where he kept rubbing.

"What do you think, Rick?"

"About what?" he asked, surprised his voice was so steady. He knew he should have been aware of the topic of conversation but he'd been so focused on torturing Michonne he couldn't have told them what they'd been talking about if his life depended on it. "Sorry, I'm really into these meatballs."

"Thank you," Olivia said, beaming. "I made them with some of the venison and wild boar Daryl brought back. Eugene helped."

She looked at Eugene with such a misty expression it was easy to see she had a crush. Eugene blushed and shrugged, unused to female attention, while Rick began to rub Michonne's pussy with long slow strokes that had her panting. She was doing a bang up job hiding her quickened breath, even while she opened her legs to give him full access and leaned back in her chair, now desperate for his touch.

Rick slipped his finger under her sopping panties and gave Deanna his undivided attention.

"I thought it would be good to raid the library and eventually move all of the books here," Deanna said. "There's a pharmacy, too, that I was told was still well stocked. We'll need all the knowledge we can get to learn how to make medicines."

"Eugene has a brilliant mind for chemistry. We've discussed it at length," Olivia said, lavishing him with praise.

"I'll still need reference materials. Don't wanna make a mistake," Eugene was saying, while smiling shyly at Olivia.

"I think that's a fine idea," Rick said, and found himself also hoping Eugene was finally gonna score now that he'd settled down and found a woman who was obviously interested in him.

Michonne gasped when he began circling her clit with fast, gentle strokes. She covered the sound with a cough.

"Too spicy?" Olivia fretted when she turned her attention from Eugene to Michonne.

"No, no. Just swallowed wrong," Michonne covered in a shaky voice.

"With the weather what it is," Rick went on, his voice steady, as was his right hand which speared a meatball, "the walkers don't pose a threat. They freeze up in this kind of cold, can't hardly move. Now would be the perfect time to raid the library, the pharmacy, and any other place for things Eugene may need."

"That's a lot of stuff to move, I have to warn you, and I'd like to have everything we can get," Deanna said.

Rick moved his index finger between Michonne's legs and rubbed her lips. She was slick and hot, and he had no difficulty pushing his middle finger inside before he curved his finger and pulled, putting pressure in just the right spot. He could feel her juices running over his finger now.

Conversation went on about how many trips they'd need to make the trip. They'd wrangled and tamed six horses and one of their carpenters had made two wagons. They'd be at less of a risk of attack, and could conserve their steadily dwindling supply of gasoline, by using the horses and wagons to make the trips to the library on the really cold days.

They spoke of building a forge and also getting materials from a nearby quarry and sawmill while Rick continued deep fingering Michonne under the table. He'd never put his hands on her like this before, he didn't quite know how to read her signals but he sensed she was close, she was gonna climax and he didn't know if she was a squirter or not. If she was, how would she explain the mess in the chair? Besides, he had no intentions of getting her off right there, not completely. He didn't think she would be able to keep quiet much longer. She was having to drink a lot to cover her breathing.

"Michonne, are you okay?" Olivia asked, taking notice of her. "You don't look so good."

She had a light sheen of sweat on her brow.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine," she said in a strangely high pitched voice. Rick stilled his fingers at once and she breathed what sounded like a sigh of relief. He didn't want too much attention on her.

"Is the heat up too high?" Deanna asked.

"No. I'm just…I sweat when eating spicy food. After being out on the road so long I'm not used to seasonings in my food," she said lamely.

"So, how many trips do you think it would take to get everything we need?" Rick asked, taking attention away from Michonne and back to the topic at hand.

"With two covered wagons?" Daryl said, coming back to the table with a freshly filled plate. "At least two trips for the pharmacy alone."

"You now the one I speak of?" Deanna said.

Daryl nodded. "Seen it on a few runs. It's big and it's almost untouched. Be good for us, 'specially since we took that doctor in."

Rick withdrew from Michonne and when no one was looking licked at his finger, tasting her, loving her flavor, before he wiped his hand on his napkin and continued eating.

Michonne fixed her dress and stood. "I'll be back in a moment."

Once she was gone Rick set his napkin down. "She doesn't look so good. I'd better make sure she's okay."

He followed after her on that flimsy excuse and ducked into the bathroom to find her bent over the sink, panting.

"What the hell did you think-"

"You're beautiful," he said, cutting her off. "Your hair is beautiful and you're beautiful and I've been a real dick about your haircut. I'm sorry."

She was frowning at him, but didn't resist when he turned her to face him and shoved a hand up her dress, seemingly ready to forgive and make up. He'd refused to let himself get hard at the table, refused to now, as he slid two fingers inside her and began to finger fuck her in earnest. She bit into his shoulder, burying her face there to stifle her moans while he pumped into her forcefully. She was already close and he felt the ripples of her orgasm, powerfully strong, around his fingers while she moaned into his neck.

"You bastard," she panted.

"You were ignoring me. That bothered me like you wouldn't believe," he whispered, before pressing his mouth to hers and slipping his tongue in for a deep, slow kiss that left her quivering around his fingers.

She used the bathroom and freshened up, he washed his hands, and then took her face in his. "Let's go home," he said. "We'll say you're not feeling well."

"You want me to reciprocate, I take it."

"I want you in my bed," he whispered, and kissed her again. "I want those strong legs of yours around my waist. I always wanted a handful of those locs of yours when I fucked you. I guess I waited too long."

"Yeah, you did," she agreed, breathless again.

They left the bathroom and Rick explained Michonne's stomach was upset. He was going to take her home. Carol, Tara, and Daryl offered to come with but he waved them off and they sat back down.

"I could use that scarf," she said, and Rick handed it over with a smile as she wrapped it around her head and stepped out into the snowy night.