Despite this being Lucille's first date ever, this wasn't turning out like anything she hoped for it to be. Well, from the very start she shouldn't have set the bar too high. For one, this was the first date she'd ever been on. She didn't necessarily have an experience for how it should go, only secondhand stories from her sister and her friends – and from the rom-coms she'd watch on a Friday night while her sister Lenore would sneak out to the college parties.
But now it was Lucille's turn to have fun. So here she was on Sycamore Drive in a suburb halfway across town with a boy she didn't like. That's the other reason she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up. Wally Morten was just not her type.
While Lucille may have never dated before, she knew what the liked. Dark hair, pretty eyes, nice smile – but most importantly a backbone. Wally was blonde with beady, weasel eyes and a smile that could, as Lucille's sometimes uncouth father would put it "Eat corn through a chain link fence and spit butter." He was a nice boy, top of his class – a year behind her as a sophomore – with a good job and a good chance of getting into an Ivy League school. Those were the good traits Wally's mother Mrs. Morten badgered Lucille with for a week before she finally agreed to go on a date with Wally. Honestly, Lucille wasn't impressed. Every boy on the north side of the tracks were like that.
Her date with Wally started with Mrs. Morten driving them to Sycamore Drive since Wally only had a learner's permit. In the backseat, Lucille and Wally made awkward small talk, and Lucille swore she could feel Mrs. Morten's eyes on her whenever she glanced in the rearview mirror. Between mincing words of politeness, Lucille prayed to God that her stomach would stay quiet. Out of nerves – and to fit into this white dress – Lucille didn't eat. Lenore also told her that Wally would probably take her to dinner. Wally didn't. Instead Mrs. Morten brought them straight to the party.
On top of this being her first date ever, this was also Lucille's first party. She had been to cocktail parties at her dad's car company. She'd been to school parties thrown by the choir teacher. But this was her first high school party, and when she went inside, she knew that this would be different. In the living room, her classmates – some of them recognizable, some of them strangers, and some of them her friends – milled about with red solo cups full of beer, swaying to the too-loud music.
"We probably shouldn't drink!" Wally shouted in her ear to be heard.
He didn't have to shout that loud, though. "Why not?" Lucille shouted back.
"You don't want to get any beer on that dress!"
"You let me worry about that, Wally!" Lucille tossed over her shoulder as she squeezed her way to the kitchen. Alcohol wasn't something she was unfamiliar with, but she'd never had beer before. This was going to be a night of firsts already, so why not try it?
Right on her tail, Wally put a hand on her elbow so that they wouldn't get separated. "Well, my mom will get upset if she smells booze on us when she picks us up!"
That made Lucille hesitate. She worked with Mrs. Morten at the jeweler's. Not only would Mrs. Morten fire her for underage drinking, but she'd tell her parents. Shoulders slumping, Lucille eyed the beer pong table and kegs in the kitchen with jealousy before heading into the backyard. "What are we supposed to do then if we can't drink? Why even have your mom bring us here?"
"For the free food," Wally replied all too easily.
Doubtful, Lucille raised an eyebrow at him. "I didn't see any in the kitchen. Just beer." What a cheap date.
"I'll check," Wally volunteered, "You good with anything?"
She wasn't, but Lucille shrugged it off. As of now, she was hungry enough to go with anything. "I guess."
"Okay," Wally said, not noticing Lucille's unimpressed and unhappy look, "You wait here and I'll go get something."
Before Lucille could say anything, Wally went back inside. On the back porch, Lucille crossed her arms defensively, not knowing anybody gathered around the firepit. Her dress had spaghetti-straps, causing her to go braless. It was one of her nicer dresses that showed off her shoulders and her legs. But Wally didn't even say anything about it. She was started to regret wearing it because it was cold, and she was too shy to try to squeeze in around the firepit. The smoke was started to bother her, too, and her eyes watered from it.
While she waited for Wally, Lucille mulled around, chewing on her bottom lip. Another gust of smoke hit her in the face, and Lucille broke out into a coughing fit. The kids around the firepit were smoking she realized – and on a closer inspection she saw it wasn't cigarettes. Uncomfortable, Lucille went back inside and went upstairs. Wally would just have to go find her.
She passed by three bedrooms where couples were making out before she found the bathroom. But the bathroom was occupied with some drunk girl puking her guts out, and another girl holding her hair out of the way as she retched and cried. "Oh my god," Lucille said sympathetically, "is there anything I can do? Does she need anything?"
Picking up her face from the porcelain bowl, the drunk girl bawled, "Go away! Get out!"
Overwhelmed, Lucille turned tail and fled back downstairs. On the stair case, she bumped into Wally who thankfully didn't spill his half-eaten pizza slice on her dress. "Oh! There you are! Why didn't you stay outside?"
"They were smoking weed out there, and I didn't want the smell getting on my clothes." Lucille tried to move past Wally, but he casually leaned against the rail in her way.
"You're okay with drinking, but not smoking weed? You're weird, Lucille." Wally shook his head and took another bite of his greasy pizza slice.
Lucille tossed her blonde hair, using her temporary height advantage to try and sneak a look past Wally into the kitchen. "There was pizza? Did you grab some for me?"
"There was pizza," Wally mumbled around his mouthful, grease dribbling down his chin. He swallowed noisily and Lucille avoided looking at him. "Only one slice left."
"And you're eating it?"
"Yeah, I was hungry. I ate dinner about an hour ago."
Lucille's empty stomach felt completely hollow, but she didn't comment on it. Something told her that Wally wouldn't understand or care. "Can you let me pass?"
"Sure, as soon as you tell me what you're doing up there," Wally teased, and when he smiled there was black olive in his teeth and his breath smelled like garlic.
Drawing back in distaste, Lucille passed it off as shyness. "Oh, I was cold outside and I didn't want to smell like weed. It's like I told you. Besides, if you think your mom would have a problem with us drinking, I don't think she'd like weed any better." She attempted to pass him again, but Wally deliberately blocked the way this time, gripping the hand rails on either side as he stood on tip toe, putting him and Lucille eye to eye.
"Yeah? You sure you weren't picking out a room for us?"
Narrowing her eyes at him, Lucille frowned. "What are you saying?"
"You know exactly what I'm saying."
"I wasn't."
"You sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure," Lucille said sternly, her tone brooking no further argument, "They're all occupied anyway unless you don't mind company."
"We could add another girl into the mix," Wally teased, but Lucille scoffed and forcibly pushed by him. "Come on, Lucille, I was just joking."
"Whatever, Wally."
For the rest of the night, Lucille dodged being alone with Wally. She resolutely stayed away from the stairs, and sought out her friends and familiar faces at the party. With them, she could laugh easily, and she found herself having a good time. But Wally was always hovering anxiously in the background, butting into the conversation, laughing too loud at the jokes. Lucille suspected that the only reason he brought her here on a date was so they could be one of the couples upstairs. Wally only proved her right when he couldn't keep his hands to himself, pawing at her ass.
Towards around ten, Wally started dropping hints that his mom was going to arrive soon. "It's not too late to head upstairs with me for a bit."
On the defensive, Lucille quickly walked away from the stairs. "You don't think your mom will know what we would get up to?" she tried to placate, tried to tease. Better to come off as hard-to-get then just a frigid bitch.
"Come on, Lucille. Take a chance on me; take a chance with me," he corrected himself. It came off more as a whine than anything remotely seductive.
"No thanks, Wally. I just think it's time for me to go home," Lucille started making her excuses, quickly realizing that he wouldn't take no for an answer and he'd keep cajoling. "I don't want my parents to worry about me." She quickly dodged his hand as she made her way around saying goodbye to her friends. They gave her sympathetic smiles and promised her that they'd talk about this Monday at lunch.
Making her way outside with Wally as her uncomfortable, lecherous shadow, Lucille decided to wait by the mailbox for Wally's mom. She didn't care if it looked embarrassing because at this point she just wanted this date to be over. Weaving through the cars parked in the driveway and one truck in the front lawn, Lucille bumped shoulders with a taller guy in a leather jacket smoking a cigarette. "Oh, excuse me," she began and then did a double take when she looked up at his face. "Negan?"
Politely blowing his smoke to the side, Negan turned and took a good look at her. "Sorry, I'm not sure I know you."
"Oh, well, we were never close but you used to work with my sister at the water park before it was shut down."
"Yeah, Water World," he scratched his stubbled chin with his thumb, the cigarette in hand waving the orange light in front of his face. "Hm, was your sister Lenny?"
"Lenore, yeah," Lucille said, a little surprised at the nickname.
"She was always Lenny to me." Negan smiled, and Lucille mirrored it helplessly. She remembered the summers at Water World where her sister worked at the kiddy pool teaching kids how to swim and Negan was the lifeguard for the adult pools. He always had sunblock on his nose but tanning oil everywhere else. His hair was slicked back with sweat and water, and he made those red swimming trunks look fantastic. Toned arms, tanned skin, sweet smile, and mysterious eyes hidden behind his sunglasses as he barked the rules and blew his whistle. She'd always been too shy to say much, but she wished she had. Negan was a reoccurring summer crush.
"Should've known you were Lenny's sister. Even if her hair was black, you both have the same face, same nose, same cheek bones." Lucille flushed under the attention, and Negan cleared his throat. "Sorry, darlin', I don't remember your name."
"It's Lucille."
"Lucille, like the song?"
That was a first. She always heard the inevitable Lucille Ball comment and line. Her name was Lucille, not Lucy, and she didn't answer to that. But the song? That wasn't familiar. "No?" She laughed lightly, "What song?"
"Come on," Negan drawled, all seductive low pitches that rolled over her skin like a warm blanket. "You know it."
"No, I really don't. Sing it to me," she teased, tilting her head back, stepping forward, flipping her hair, batting her eyelashes. She knew how it all looked; that's how she wanted it to look. Negan inspired all those old feelings of her girlhood, but now it was much different. She wanted more.
"You don't want me to sing to you, Lucille," Negan smiled at her, waving his hand dismissively. He hadn't taken a drag since he started talking to her and the cigarette was slowly burning down to the brown filter.
"Yes, I do," Lucille insisted, "sing to me, Negan."
He chuckled, and dropped his eyes to his converse sneakers. "Fine, fine, you win." Running his free hand nervously through his moussed hair, he shot her a look of bashfulness before he crooned to her so sweetly, "You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille, with four hungry children and a crop in the field."
It was beautiful; but Lucille didn't recognize it. "No, no, don't stop! You have such a wonderful singing voice."
"Bull-fucking-shit," Negan quipped good-naturedly, rolling his shoulders.
"Hey, you should watch your mouth around a girl." Wally inserted himself into the conversation, wrapping his arm around Lucille's middle, brushing his fingers over her rear in the process.
Looking up at Wally sharply, Negan said in a flat voice, "Well I don't see any fucking girl here. Lucille's a woman. I'm sure she's heard this kind of language before."
Grateful, Lucille shot Negan a warm look as she gently tried to disentangle herself from Wally's leech grip. She had forgotten he was there, but like always he just watched them like a damn voyeur before awkwardly reminding them of his presence.
"Who the hell are you anyway? Doesn't seem to me like Lucille much cares for your fucking company." Negan took a drag and blew it at Wally's face on purpose, a frown deepening at the corners of his mouth where dimples were before.
"Oh, trust me, she likes it. She's my girlfriend, of course, she does."
Embarrassment curdled in Lucille's gut. "No, I'm not, Wally."
"But we're on a date, Lucille."
"A first date," she reminded him, shifting away. She moved subconsciously toward Negan, seeking out his protection.
He came to her rescue. "Pretty shitty first date, Wally, to take her to a house party like this."
"What's wrong with it? You're at this party, too!" Wally said angrily, glaring up at Negan. He was a good five inches shorter. It wasn't very impressive watching him face off with Negan.
"Yeah, but I'm not here on a fucking date."
"Whatever. Lucille, let's go. My mom's already here." He tried to grab her wrist, but Lucille shifted behind Negan, hiding her hands.
Negan's eyebrows shot up his forehead in surprise, and he raised his voice, anger around the rim of it like salt on a tequila glass. "Woah, there, Wally. Carpooling with your momma and trying to lay your hands on her when clearly aren't fucking wanted? You must have bigger balls than I thought. Not much bigger, though. Probably still fucking marble sized. So why don't you make like a fucking tree and leave, fucko. I don't want to have to kick your ass in front of your momma."
Wally took a step back and directed his anger at Lucille instead. "Come on, we have to take you home."
Narrowing her eyes, Lucille didn't appreciate his tone, as if she were a bad dog. "No. Negan can take me home. Bye Wally." She wrapped her arms around of Negan's, making her position clear. She didn't care what he told his mother or if Mrs. Morten were going to fire her tomorrow. Anything would be better than being forced to continue this façade any further.
"Run along back to your momma's skirts now, Wally." Negan flicked his cigarette bud at Wally's feet and stomped it out.
Shooting Lucille one last nasty look, Wally stalked away without another word. Lucille didn't bother to watch him go, tugging Negan back up towards the house and between the cars so they could have some privacy. "Thank you, Negan." Releasing his arms, she anxiously rubbed her elbow. "Sorry for putting you on the spot like that. I can go inside and call my sister; you don't have to take me home."
"Nah, I don't mind doing that. You wanna go ahead and leave now?"
"I don't want to take you away from the party," she objected.
"Lucille, honey, these high school parties are a dime a fucking dozen. It's the fucking college ones I can't wait for. Come on, my truck is this way." Negan led her to the only truck parked on the street, an older 70s model, blue with a white stripe down the sides. Lucille could only recognize the make and model because of being dragged to her dad's car lot so often. She knew his truck spoke of poverty, but didn't say anything about it.
Growing up, Lucille always knew she was from the nicer side of town. Lenore didn't need that summer job, and she quit it pretty quickly. Lucille herself didn't need the job at the jewelry store either. She could work on her dad's lot doing paperwork if she wanted. But they both worked anyway because it was an excuse to get out of the house and sample the world how they could.
But Lucille also wasn't surprised that Negan wasn't rich. He went to South City Highschool that was downtown while Lucille went to Northview. It was little wonder that the only place she ever ran into him was Water World and now this party that was closer to his side of town than hers. She was going to consider it fate that brought them together; though, that could just be her rom-com Pretty in Pink brain talking.
Like a gentleman, Negan helped her up in the truck. "You live on the North Side of the railroad tracks, Lucille?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Yeah, I could tell."
They drove for a while in silence until Lucille's empty stomach made its presence known. Immediately, Negan glanced over at her and shook his head. "Damn, fucking Wally didn't even have his momma cook you guys dinner?"
"I didn't even know his mother was going to drive us – or that we were going to go to that party."
"You were a little overdressed, but it's a fucking beautiful dress on you, Lucille." He smiled at her roguishly. "I'm not gonna fucking complain about it." He had already crossed the railroad tracks but rather than following her instructions, Negan made a sudden left.
"Where are we going?"
"I'm gonna buy you dinner, Lucille. You deserve better than a piece of shit like that on a first date."
A little shocked, Lucille sat back in her seat, staring at Negan as she tried to figure him out. "So, is this a date?"
Looking over at her, Negan ran his tongue across his teeth. It was a lecherous kind of look, but Lucille's skin wasn't crawling in disgust. Far from that, in fact. "If you fucking want it to be."
Blushing hotly, Lucille looked out the window again.
"Let me just crank that AC up for you, Lucille. You're looking a little hot under the collar there," Negan teased.
Sitting forward in her seat again, Lucille peaked up at the sign as Negan drove into the parking lot. He wasn't that bad of a driver, maybe a little fast, but it excited Lucille. She liked it. It made her feel like those country boys in their orange Dodge Charger. What show was that called again? Dukes of Hazzard? Nervously tugging her dress a little further down, Lucille wondered how Catherine Bach could wear those short little shorts.
"You ever been to a fucking Sonic before, Lucille?" Negan's voice broke into her thoughts as he pulled up to one of the spots.
"Maybe once or twice when my family goes out of town on vacation."
"It's funny, I can't picture you at one. You probably dine on lobster every night. You look like you're more used to sipping champagne than cheap beer at some high school party."
Lucille didn't take offense. "You're not wrong about the champagne, but have you ever tried it?"
"Once," Negan admitted ruefully, scratching his cheek. "My mom had some on New Year's Eve a while back and she let me try some. It was bubbly. Kind of tickled."
They placed their orders and talked casually while they waited for their burgers, fries, and shakes. Mostly they caught up on school, where they wanted to go after college, Lenore. The more they talked, the more Lucille opened up to him, no longer as shy as she had been earlier. She lost track of the time, and didn't care if it was past curfew. Negan was charming, handsome, funny, sweet. She wanted him.
After they finished their burgers, they still sat around finishing their shakes. Negan seemed reluctant to take her home, too. His hazel eyes would linger, and while he was nothing like Wally, he still had a way of looking at Lucille that made her feel beautiful and desirable. Finally, he asked, "You about ready to go home, Lucille?"
Feeling brave, Lucille shifted towards the middle of the seats. "I haven't thanked you for buying my dinner, Negan."
"No thanks necessary, it was nice to spend time with you. I'd like to do it again. On a fucking proper date, this time. Don't I have to ask your sister for permission or something?" He half-smiled, but his eyes didn't have that spark of humor as he sidled closer, too. Negan was looking at her like he wanted to devour her. Lucille was sure that her look was the same.
"Negan, let me repay you how I can," she wrapped her arms around his neck and could smell the chocolate on his breath from his milkshake. "Then you can take me home and ask me on a date."
A low hum emitted from the back of his throat. "Deal." Then he closed the distance between them with a kiss, and they mixed the flavors of their milkshake together, his chocolate and hers vanilla.
Kissing was nice, Lucille came to realize. It was very nice. Unpracticed as she was, it didn't seem to matter, because her enthusiasm made up for it in spades if Negan's low growls of encouragement was anything to go by. His kissing was very telling. He knew how to do it and must have practiced often because it was perfect. This was nothing like Lenore every told her, or what she saw in her movies. And then he added tongue, and Lucille loved it even more.
Before Lucille knew it, she was flat on her back, stretched out on the leather seat. Negan was between her legs, hitching them around his hips as he grinded against her. Lenore had told her about this, how good it can feel to have a boy between your legs and kissing down your neck towards the tops of your breasts just above the dress. Negan's fingers gently pulled the spaghetti straps down, but he looked up at her for permission before easing the dress further down to reveal her breasts.
His mouth attached to her nipples and sucked, laving them with tongue and gently scraping them with teeth. His facial hair heightened the feeling, drove her wild. Heat pulled at the apex of her thighs in a wet gush, and she could feel how hard he was from this. All thoughts that might have stopped her were gone as she moved against him. This feeling was one she was familiar with in her bed at night as she humped against her pillow and played with herself. Using Negan for her pleasure now was so much better, though, and she threaded her fingers through his hair and moaned loudly.
They were in a car. It was past curfew. Mrs. Morten probably already called her parents to complain about her behavior towards Wally. But Lucille didn't care when Negan snaked his hand under her dress, over her underwear, slipping inside. He curled his fingers over and over again, rubbing at that one little spot her own fingers couldn't quite reach. Then he added his thumb on her clit, rubbing it in tight circles. She was clamping her thighs around his hand and coming with a high-pitched squeal within seconds. Gently, he eased her through it and muffled her noises with a kiss as he swallowed all of her delicious sounds.
"There we go, Lucille, I gotcha." For a moment, they laid there languidly. But Negan slowly sat up and licked his fingers clean before he started searching for his car keys. "It's getting late, baby. I should get you home."
In a daze, Lucille sat up, not bothering to pull her dress back down. She was enjoying the coolness of the AC over her thighs once Negan cranked up the trunk again. She did pull the spaghetti straps back up into place, covering her sensitive nipples from the chill. Lucille had managed to give herself orgasms before but nothing like the one Negan coaxed out of her. He barely had to try to do it. But she did not feel cheap or easy or ashamed or any of that. She felt good; but maybe a little guilty that he didn't get to come, too.
"What about you?" She nodded towards his bulging pants.
"It's fine, Lucille, it'll go away," Negan told her.
"I can make it go away for you," she purred, pressing herself against his side as he drove.
"You don't have to do that for me, baby. It's a first date. Everything should be about you."
"But I want to," she insisted, brushing her fingertips over it as she kissed the side of his neck, copying what he did to her. "And I always," she hissed in his ear, blowing briefly, "get what I want." Sucking his earlobe into her mouth, Lucille started to blindly undo his pants.
"Shit," Negan muttered, "shit, shit, shit." Lucille dropped down closer so she could see what she was doing and pulled him free from his pants and boxers. Thankfully, Lenore had told her about this; but Negan was much bigger than what Lenore had ever described. "How am I supposed to drive you home with my dick in your mouth, Lucille?"
"I'll come up for air and give you directions." She winked up at him and kissed the tip. He shuddered and gripped the wheel tighter. "You can tell me what to do. I want to please you." Licking a stripe up the side of his shaft, Lucille reached down further to curiously cup his balls.
Above her, Negan groaned and dropped a hand to her hair to urge her on. "Just lick me for a bit, Lucille, baby. Get me nice and fucking wet." Doing as he said, Lucille coated him in saliva and kisses. This was nice, the flavor not bad and basically nonexistent. It was like a plain, skin flavored lollipop that she could occasionally feel twitch and pulse against her tongue.
"That's it, Lucille. Christ, you're such a bad girl for doing this on the first fucking date, but fuck, I love that. Bet you've never done this before. Bet you're close to coming again just tasting my fat dick. You're gonna make me crash my fucking truck. I'm definitely taking you on another date and this time I'm gonna fuck you. I'll pop your damn cherry so fucking sweetly, Lucille. You can bet on it."
She could feel herself getting wetter at his words, and it spurred her to take the bulbous head of his cock into her mouth and lightly suckle on. She dragged her tongue through the slit, tasting the bitterness of his juices. It wasn't bad, definitely something she could get used to. Negan's praise and dirty talk only got louder at that. His hand in her hair balled into a fist and tugged roughly, the slight pain of it adding to her pleasure. He pushed down on her head. "Open up your mouth, Lucille, and take me deeper. I fucking know you can."
Stretching open her mouth until her jaw hurt, Lucille attempted to swallow his cock. It made her eyes water and it was hard to breathe, but the sounds he made was so worth it. She slipped one of her hands down to play with herself while she moved the other over what part of his cock she couldn't manage to fit.
"Fuck, yes, Lucille. I'm gonna come right down your throat. You think you can handle that for me, baby? You think you'll swallow me down like a good girl?" Negan crooned, his voice as tight as his one-handed grip on the steering wheel. He shallowly thrust his hips up into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat and heard her gag around him. She moaned around his cock like she's in love with it, and the vibration traveled straight down to his heavy balls that are dying to unload. Her hand moved up and down his cock even faster, and she sucked even harder, tongue at the sensitive glands.
"I'm gonna come," Negan warned her just before he does. It shot down the back of her throat in three creamy spurts.
Lucille sat up quickly to keep it from leaking out of her mouth. She swallowed several times but the taste of his come still lingered heavily on the back of her tongue. "That's bitter."
Panting heavily, Negan let out a wheezy little laugh. "Sorry."
"Don't be." Moving back to her seat, Lucille righted herself. "I enjoyed that, but I don't think as much as you."
Weakly, Negan reached out and grabbed Lucille's hand. "Where the hell have you fucking been all my damn life, Lucille?"
"On the north side of the railroad tracks," she answered him, rubbing her thumb across the back of his hand. "Turn left."
When Negan came to her house to ask her on their official first date, Lucille's parents invited him inside for dinner. Neither Lucille nor Negan were expecting this, but he came inside anyway. It was about a week after the party, and they've been calling each other every night since. Sometimes Lucille caught Lenore listening in, but other than that it's been just the two of them, talking about school and how they can't wait to see each other again.
Now that he was here, though, both of them were nervous. Lucille's father Lee Jones could be intimidating and crude – much like Negan, Lucille supposed. Her father did come from the south side of the tracks, too. But he could be cruel and cutting, over protective of both of his daughters. Her mother in comparison was just snooty. She's always been from the north side of the tracks. Negan was going to have to walk the line to impress them both.
"So, Negan," Lee began while his wife was in the kitchen fixing their dinner, "you have a job?"
"I work at an autobody shop and help fix up the cars during the summer, and the occasional hours here and there during the school year. They mainly need me in the summers and I need the money how I can get it to help out my mom with school expenses."
Immediately, Lee took an interest. Cars were his breath and blood. "You know your way around an engine, huh?"
"I'm good with machinery. I can't tell you how many times I've had to fix the garbage disposal or washing machine for my mom. Cars are a lot easier in comparison. I prefer grease over sewage water."
Lee laughed, and clapped Negan on the back. They went back and forth for a while about cars. Lenore and Lucille sat and watched. Lenore had been surprised when Lucille was dropped off by Negan. She set in on Lucille as soon as they were upstairs, warning him about how he's a playboy and definitely the kind of boy who wouldn't be able to stay out of trouble. Lucille barely listened to her sister, and once Lenore realized that, she just hugged Lucille and wished her all the happiness in the world. Now as they watched their father quiz Negan, they realized that he was passing along perfectly. It was obvious that Lee approved. Now it was only their mother he had to impress.
Laurel came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dish towel. She'd just cut every ingredient for their pre-dinner salads by hand, made the asparagus, baked the homemade mac and cheese, and mashed the potatoes. At her heart, she's always been a homemaker, and she expects the same from Lenore and Lucille. Lenore is a little wild, a little mischievous, but she'll grow out of it. Lucille would be perfect for motherhood and being a wife. But Laurel can only hope it'll be with the right man some day.
"Lee? Why don't you go ahead and throw those steaks on the grill?" She suggested.
"Sure, babe. How do you like you're steak, Negan?"
"Mooing," he joked, and Lee clapped him on the shoulder again.
"Excellent choice."
Once Lee disappeared out the back door with the plate of steaks, Laurel set in on Negan herself for her own test of approval. "So, Negan, how are your grades?"
"They're fair, could be better." Negan wandered over to the piano. Only Laurel could play it, but Negan didn't know that. Neither Lucille nor Lenore were very good at it. Lenore chose the flute and then the clarinet before she quit marching band completely. Lucille learned the violin and guitar; but she wasn't gifted by any means. She could read off the sheet music and play it, but having tried her hand at original pieces, she couldn't do much with it. Laurel, though, had a particularly ear for music. Sometimes she'd just tap out her feelings on the keys, but Lucille only had infrequent memories of that.
"Do you play, Negan?" Laurel asked him.
"A little. My mom taught piano lessons for a while, but once she took extra shifts at the diner she couldn't do it anymore. We don't even have a piano anymore either. Had to sell it for a new refrigerator. It was a little heartbreaking. Momma loved her Steinway."
Sliding down on the bench, Negan idly flipped through the music sheets for something to play. Curious, Lucille approached and sat next to him, just like she used to do when she was little and her mother would play. "I can do this one," Negan showed her the sheet with the title. Tchaikovsky's Theme from "Swan Lake."
A memory comes to Lucille of her parents taking her to see a live performance of Swan Lake. She was little, so little that she was kneeling in the theatre seat to be able to see over heads of the people in front of her. It was a good memory. "Yes, play that one."
Just like when he sang to her, Negan surprised Lucille. He stumbled at first, but once his fingers got used to the rhythm, Negan played it beautiful. Watching his fingers fly over the white keys and pause on the black ones, Lucille blushed thinking about just how talented she knew his fingers could be. "Press this key for me, Lucille."
Startled, she looked up at him with his knowing look, and tapped it a little too hard. "Okay, tap it again, gentler this time. Like you're stroking a kitten."
Following his instructions, she did, and Lucille stared at him hotly as she remembered how good he was at bossing her around and how good she was at doing as she was told. He continued to play the rest of the piece – just a short song – and nodded to her when it was her turn to stroke her one little key. Lucille forgot about her mother and sister hovering in the background as she and Negan played together, even if the role she played wasn't that important.
They reached the crescendo, rapidly tapping the same keys as Negan increased the frenzy. All Lucille could think about was how it felt to stretch around his fingers and get closer and closer until finally coming. She could almost sense when they reached that moment when Negan slowed it back down and moved his fingers toward the lower pitched keys. Lucille knew that she had to have Negan again and soon.
As they finished out the piece, Lucille's mother approached the piano on silent feet. "You play beautifully, Negan. It's nice to hear someone else on my piano."
"Thank you," Negan dipped his head bashfully and went to close the lid over the keys.
"Oh, no, by all means, play another. Or even that piece again. I imagine you miss having your Steinway. I would be devastated without mine."
Hazel eyes lowered to the keys, Negan barely brushed his fingertips over them, deliberately not coaxing out anymore music. "I do think my mom misses it more than me, but if we had it now, she'd be too tired to play it. There wouldn't be much room for it in our trailer anyway," he admitted a little gruffly, glue in his throat.
They started the piece over, this time with no fumbling start, and Lucille was given another key to press. They were halfway through it when her father came back in, announcing the steaks were ready.
Dinner was slow. Too slow for Lucille's taste. She wanted Negan all by herself, rather be eating only with him. She wanted him on the table, riding him, or maybe she could slip down underneath to suck him off again. Absently, she wondered if his come would taste could with the asparagus. Her mind wandered again, picture Negan with his bare ass on the keys of her mother's piano as she sucks him off and hears the keys clang and clash disjointedly. She wanted to play him as well as he played the piano.
"Negan, huh? What a strange name," her father said, pulling Lucille back to the conversation at hand.
"Yes, I know." He said with the practice of someone who gets this a lot. "My mom was expecting a girl: Megan. She got really stuck on the name and could only think of changing it to an 'N' with a different sound. Still didn't change my middle name, though."
"And that's?"
"Marion." Negan said flatly, cutting his eyes toward Lucille, who pressed her lips together to stifle her giggles. Her sister did no such thing, laughing openly. "I don't know why she thought Megan Marion would be good names to have together. But I don't blame her for the names, she had no one else to fill out the paperwork and she was out of her mind on the pain medicine, I'm sure."
"Where was your father then?" Laurel asked presumptuously.
"I don't have one."
Dinner was quickly over after that, and Negan was approved for Lucille.
Their official first date was spent riding around in Negan's truck after dinner. They crossed over the railroad tracks several times at different points. They never left town, and they only stopped at red lights and stop signs.
Initially, they just talked, but then Lucille couldn't help herself. She had Negan's dick in her mouth and choked on it when his truck rolled over sewer gates and hit pot holes and bumped over the railroad tracks. Once he came, Lucille sat back in her seat again to catch her breath. Negan was breathing heavily, too, and the light flashed from red to green to yellow to red to green again before he finally went.
"Thank you for putting up with that mess at my house."
"I wasn't expecting the fucking Spanish Inquisition, I'll admit."
"No one ever expects the Spanish Inquisition, Negan," Lucille giggled.
He chuckled alongside her. "Yeah."
They drove again.
"Where are we going?"
"Well, I got to meet your fucking parents, so I figured, you should meet my mother." Negan pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour diner. It was on the south side of the tracks near the highway, so it was mainly semitrucks taking up the parking lot. He led her inside to a corner booth where they sat side by side instead of across from each other.
Lucille looked around. It was a lot better than a Waffle House, and had an atmosphere that attempted a 50s vibe but was still playing Bon Jovi on the radio. "So, where's your mother?"
Casually draping his arm across her shoulders, Negan pulled Lucille to his side. Automatically, she placed her hand on his thigh, comfortable. It felt like they were always meant to sit like this. Pointing with his other hand, Negan directed Lucille's gaze to an olive skinned, black haired waitress who had too many wrinkles that made you doubt her youth. "There she is, coming to take our order now."
The waitress strode toward them with a smile, a genuine one instead of the customer service one. Lucille could see where Negan got his smile from. Her hair was generously streaked with a steely gray, pulled out of her face in a bun nestled against the back of her neck. Her uniform was toothpaste green with a frilly, rumpled apron and uncomfortable looking black shoes. The last thing Lucille noticed was her nametag: Jolene.
"So, is this that uptown girl you've been singing out so much, my son?" Jolene propped one hand on her hip while the other gestured with her notepad with the other. "She's a cute one. Hi, honey, I'm Jolene, Negan's mom."
"Hey Momma," Negan said softly, and Lucille didn't know why her heart was breaking. "Why don't you sit down with us for a minute? You don't have to stand there."
Sliding into the opposite side of the booth, Jolene looked relieved to have a moment off her feet. "What are you two doing out here so late?"
"I wanted Lucille to meet the most important woman in my life that I love the most," Negan drawled, reaching his hand across the table to clasp his mother's.
"That way she knows the competition, huh? So she can dethrone me?"
"Momma," Negan said, not quite a whine. "No one can ever replace you."
"Yeah, I don't think anyone could replace my daddy."
"You say that now but it'll happen and that's okay. I'm just a tired old woman. Believe me, I know these things."
"Miss Jolene, I don't think I could ever replace you," Lucille said, "You made Negan a good man. My parents loved him. He can fix cars and play piano and he…" Lucille trailed off, unsure how to say that he wouldn't force her to do anything, and that he cared about making sure she was safe, happy, fed, taken care of before his own needs. That felt too personal. "He's perfect. How could I make him a better man?" She said the last to Negan as she turned to look at him. "He said you use to give piano lessons?" Lucille glanced at Jolene's fingers, swollen with arthritis.
Jolene's hands fluttered around her face bashfully, smoothing stray strands of hair out of her face. "Oh, so he told you about me like he told me about you?"
As if she were telling a secret, Lucille leaned over the table. "What did he say about me?"
"He said you were from the good sides of the tracks, and that you were the woman he was going to marry," Jolene teased, shooting Negan a look of a knowing mother's gaze. "Seeing you now I can believe it."
Now it was Lucille's turn to be bashful, though Negan looked anything but with the smug smile twitching his lips. "Really? What else did he say about me?"
Jolene and Lucille talked back and forth about it for a while until Jolene started on the embarrassing stories of Negan's childhood. Apparently, Negan wanted to be a cop when he was a kid, and then he wanted be a cop that own an Italian restaurant.
"What like a gangster?" Lucille laughed.
"Better than a gangster," Negan corrected her.
When he was little, Negan was a bully. Jolene recounted his black eyes and broken nose from the fights he would pick. He used to wear his glasses but hated them so much he refused to wear them. He used to be on the baseball team in middle school but then Jolene couldn't afford to pay for the uniforms anymore. By 10 years-old, Negan knew how to bake eggplant parmesan, but by 12, they had stopped having nice homemade dinners when Jolene started bringing home leftovers from the diner.
While Jolene talked fondly, sending gentle smiles Negan's way, Lucille listened and watched. It was strange getting to know Negan this way. Every childhood story his mother would tell had a tinge of sadness to it that Lucille could taste like olive oil coating her mouth. It wasn't a horrible, retching sadness, but it tainted the memory. It made Jolene's smiles fleeting and shrink a little towards the end with a tightness that accentuated her dimples. Negan had those same dimples, though his were much deeper than his mother's.
"Jolene!" hissed a fat man in a chef's hat with brown grease stains down the front of his dingy white shirt. "You've got customers."
"Alright, Paul," Jolene called back. She slid out of the booth and stretched, wincing slightly. "You want me to get you kids some milkshakes or burgers?"
Negan and Lucille exchanged a look before they shrugged. "Sure, Momma. She like's vanilla, no pickles, no mustard."
"Memorized your order for you, huh, honey? He's really smitten." Jolene winked and went back to work.
Lucille waited until she saw Jolene disappear into the kitchen before she turned to Negan with a wide grin. "Uptown Girl? You sing that about me? What happened to Lucille and crops in the field and starving kids?"
Bumping shoulders with her, Negan explained, "You deserve a happy song, Lucille, and you haven't fucking left me yet. Besides, that played on the radio on my way home from dropping you off. It just seemed like it clicked."
Cupping his cheek, Lucille ran her thumb across his bottom lip, dragging it until his mouth opened and she could smell his breath: nicotine. "Does this make you my Backstreet Guy?"
Arrogantly, Negan drawled, "Of course I am. I know you've never dated a guy south of the tracks before." Ever so gently, he leaned forward until his forehead was pressed against hers, his large nose crowding out her smaller one. "I just wish I could give you things. But no, I can't afford to buy you pearls."
She giggled at the reference before those faded away. "You don't have to buy me pearls, Negan, I just want you."
"I know you want me, too, since you just had that mouth on my dick before you met my momma." He dipped in for a kiss, chasing her tongue. Lucille couldn't taste the olive oil anymore.
During the school year, Negan and Lucille ran up the phone bill calling every night. Most weekends they went out, normally to eat or go bowling, the occasional house party here or there. They went to one with Lenore, and Lucille finally had her first beer. Negan taught her to play beer pong. Lucille decided beer tasted like Wheaties and piss.
One time they drove all the way to the beach just to watch the sunrise together. On their way back home, they blared the radio and sang every song to stay away so Negan wouldn't crash.
"We should get married at the beach," Negan called over the sound of the wind and the radio. They had rolled their window down for the fresh air, and it roared in their ears as they sped up the interstate.
"Is that a proposal, Backstreet Guy?" Lucille shouted back.
"That's a fucking promise, Uptown Girl!"
Sometimes they would stay at Lucille's house, though, they couldn't do much with her mother always popping in. Sometimes they went to Negan's, and they could do a lot since his mom was always at work. But they've yet to have sex. They've done plenty of other things, but that was one thing Lucille drew the line at.
"My parents would go nuts if I asked for birth control," she explained, "and maybe our first time can be special. Like when you actually marry me."
"Hm," Negan would consider, "I suppose you've got me then, Lucille. Can't believe a backstreet guy like me got an uptown girl."
In the summer, he took her to see Ferris Bueller's Day Off at the movie theatre. It was in the aftermath of taking her home that Negan finally said that he loved her; and she said it, too.
The night of their wedding, Lucille and Negan could hardly wait. They charged into their honeymoon suite, Lucille riding on Negan's back. Her white heels came off quickly, and Negan's tie was looped around the doorknob. He tossed her on the bed, sending the rose petals there scattering to the wind.
"Negan! I almost crushed the chocolates!" Lucille held up the handful that were arranged in the shape of a heart. "Can you imagine the stains on this dress? It's a rental."
"I can't believe you rented a fucking wedding dress, Lucille. What if our daughter wants to wear yours one day? You know your daddy would've paid for it." Negan inspected the bottle of champagne that the hotel service left cooling in the bucket of ice for them.
"Something old and something new, something borrowed and something," Lucille chimed out, already peeling the thin tin foil off the chocolate kisses. "Pour me some bubbly, my husband."
"Save me some fucking chocolate, my smoking hot wife."
The champagne was poured and Negan carried it over to Lucille, collapsing beside her. "So, the dress is borrowed. The something old is your mom's pearl necklace." He fingered the smooth pearls, humming to himself. "My uptown girl got her pearls."
Taking a sip of her champagne, Lucille ducked forward and gave Negan a kiss to share the flavor. His face was smooth, freshly shaven for their wedding day, though Negan never kept it that way. Laziness and Lucille liked the burn of the stubble on her skin. "Keep going, baby."
Placing his flute of champagne on the beside table, Negan rolled on his side and shimmied down the bed until he was between Lucille's legs. The skirts of her wedding dress were bunched up in her lap, not revealing anything yet, but teasingly close to doing so. "Something new would be those goddamn shoes that killed your fucking feet." He started to rub, dragging his thumb across the soles of her feet and watching her arch her back in ecstasy.
"I know," Lucille groaned, and she finished off the rest of her champagne. "I only got to dance to Uptown Girl."
"That's the only fucking song we have to dance to, Lucille, for the rest of our fucking long-ass lives." Negan moved his hands up her legs, massaging her calves and her thighs as he disappeared under the white ruffles of lace.
Tossing her head to the side, Lucille groaned louder. The terrace was near the bed, with the curtains pulled aside so that they could see the stars start to come out. The waves were crashing harder now. It would be a full moon tonight. Not the only full moon Lucille wanted to see, though. "Do you know what my something blue is?"
"I don't have a fucking clue. It sure as hell wasn't your garter belt." Negan's lips now followed his hands, and he nipped playfully at the sensitive, thick flesh of her inner thigh.
"Keep going, baby," Lucille repeated, threading her fingers through his jet-black hair. "You'll found out."
Wiggling further up the bed, Negan finally exposed Lucille's lower half. For five years, he's grown very familiar with it with his mouth and lips and tongues and fingers. But tonight, would be the night he could finally have her fully. "Blue silk panties, Lucille?"
"We agreed I'd wear your favorite color if you would use mine for the wedding colors." Lucille smiled down at him gently, propping herself up to peek over the mounds of white lace and silk. "You look so beautiful in red, Negan."
"And you look fuckable as hell in blue," Negan growled as he dragged the panties down her leg. Her musky scent hit him in the face as soon as he revealed her neatly trimmed pussy. "Someone's eager."
"Someone's been waiting since puberty to fuck you," Lucille shot back, biting her bottom lip impatiently.
"Puberty?" Negan dragged his thumbs on either side of her labia similar to how he did her feet. It spread her lips, revealing how dewy wet she was for him.
"Those red swimming trunks," Lucille purred, head dropping back against the pillows. Her blonde hair was starting to fall out of its bun.
It clicked. "Oh, now I see, baby." Negan dipped his head down and licked a stripe through her lower lips, and then sucked her swollen clit into his mouth. This was the only pearl on his uptown girl he cared about.
"Negan," Lucille whined, bucking her hips up into his face, "I need you now. Fuck me, now."
"What about this rental dress, Lucille?" Negan teased as he sat up and started to strip off his vest and shirt. He'd been dying to get out of this monkey suit since he put it on, he could barely breathe. Lucille only made it all the more uncomfortable, especially in the pants area.
"I don't give a damn about it," she started helping him undress, yanking his belt from the pants loops furiously. "I want you, just you, and I want you all night."
"In sickness and in health?" Negan panted, pushing his pants and boxers down his legs, kicking them off. "All that bullshit?"
Her hand wrapped around his half-erect cock, giving it a few strokes to get him fully hard. "Yes," she hissed, "now fuck me in my wedding dress, husband."
"Will fucking do, Mrs. Negan." He lined himself up after slicking himself between her lips. Then he slid home nice and slow. Lucille spread her legs wider, welcoming him home until he was fully seated before she wrapped her thick legs around his hips, not letting him get too far away.
Neither of them could manage words after that point, concentrating on the push and pull between them. Lucille thought it was like the ocean, as if she could feel that tide inside of her. Her stomach was in knots, overly warm, upside down, on fire, consumed in butterflies, like riding a rollercoaster. Negan wondered if this was what it was like to dip his dick in hot chocolate and let it melt off of him.
It was euphoric, everything everyone said it would be and yet nothing like it either. And it was also over in a few minutes once Lucille came and triggered Negan's own release, too. Birth control was an afterthought. They were married now. Children were a must.
In the aftermath, they cuddled in each other's arms, catching their breath. "Worth the fucking wait?" Negan finally asked.
"No," Lucille answered flatly, and Negan's heart jumped in his throat like a swollen frog. "We could've been doing that much sooner," Lucille continued, "I'll never get enough of it." Crawling over him, Lucille straddled his naked waist while she was still haphazardly wearing her wedding dress. "So much wasted time to make up for," she hummed, dragging her hands down his chests, watching his nipples pebble underneath her touch.
Settling his hand on her hips, Negan looked up with adoration and awe at his beautiful wife, his uptown girl, his Lucille. "I love you, Uptown Girl."
"I love you, too, Backstreet Guy."
"You think I can get in your backstreet tonight?" Negan wiggled his eyebrows and grinned boyishly.
In retaliation, Lucille lightly smacked his chest. "Behave."
For a moment, they sat in silence. Even with the glass doors closed, they could still hear the roar of the ocean, the hum of the street outside. If they listened closely, they could hear each other's breathing, their heartbeats as one in the same.
"Anymore of that champagne left?"
"An entire bottle."
Tramping through the store, Negan swung Lucille testily. "Fan out you sorry shits and bring me some good shit."
The Saviors fled like rats, ducking down the picked-over aisles for food, medicine, supplies. The only savior who didn't flee was Simon who steadfastly stood by Negan's side. Side by side they marched up and down the aisles in silence. Negan could rely on Simon to speak when he had something to say, but otherwise keep quiet so Negan could think. Besides, Negan was the one who preferred to chatter anyway.
Today wasn't one of Negan's good days, though. The success of the raid would determine if it was going to be a bad day or a really shitty day.
"Say boss," Simon said. Negan paused. Simon shuffled over to the picked over liquor shelves. "There's a bottle of champagne here."
"Fucking what about it, Simon?"
"Champagne is for victories, celebrations."
"What the fuck do we have to celebrate over this meager goddamn run?"
Simon shrugged his broad, muscled shoulders. He turned the champagne bottle over and over in his hands. "We're alive. The Sanctuary is working. We have food, people. We're the top dogs."
Snatching the bottle from Simon's hands, Negan considered smashing it to the ground or on Simon's nose. "Champagne rhymes with what, Simon?"
Used to Negan's antics by now, Simon took a cautious step back. "What, boss?"
"Pain." Negan smashed the stem of the bottle off of the shelf, and the champagne frothed and bubbled over. First, he poured some on Lucille, and then he tipped his own head back for a swallow, careful not to cut his lips on the jagged edges of the green glass.
The bottle went empty before Negan had his fill. He dropped it, enjoying the shatter, and stomped his boots over the glass with a crunch as he continued on his way. Simon followed, listening to Negan's whistles, and he just barely caught Negan singing under his breath, "You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille, with four hungry children and a crop in the field."