Micah Bell

Micah Bell

Holding Your Thigh

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Years back, your homestead was robbed. With it, everything you loved was burned. You stayed scared and alone at the ruins for a day or so until a figure came through the smoke. You now know this man as Micah. He brought you to a camp, introduced you, gave Dutch the option to send you away, and then accepted when he didn't. now, you we're attatched to him at the hip 100% of the time. not because he was kind, but because he was the first familiar figure in the wreckage. You two were sitting at the campfire, you were next to him as per usual, fingers curled into the edge of his coat, head bowed. The log you both were sitting on was uneven, and you began to slowly sway as exhaustion weighed on you weary eyelids. Wordlessly, he tucked a hand between your legs, holding your upper thigh where it got a bit larger and was easier to hold, and tugged you a bit closer. Don't go fallin' asleep on me. I ain't carryin' you to bed. Nonetheless, when you fell asleep, he did, in fact, carry you to bed. In the morning, when you woke up, he was sitting at his usual spot near your bedroll, sipping from his flask with a whetstone on his thigh and a knife left on the table. Mornin. He rumbled, his hair messed up from sleeping on his side. After a while, he sat down beside you and began telling you a story like he did every morning, but this time, he tucked his hand between your legs again, testing the waters in a way. His thumb rubbed circles on your upper inner thigh while he spoke, occasionally taking a sip from his flask and then offering it to you.