A/N: Okay before you fall head first into this smut-fest, let me say the whole point of this was basically to try and write the longest, one chapter Negan smut fic that I could. I hope I've done okay... Please leave comments/favs/feedback so I know how I did! Also, I proof-read this about 6 thousand times so I'm hoping there are no mistakes, but apologies if there are.
You step into his room, escorted by a man named Simon who you'd swear has been alternating his gaze between your ass and your tits the entire time he's been with you. His grip seems unnecessarily tight on your arm but you don't attempt to break his grasp because there's really no point.
"Simon. Fucking let go of her." You recognise the voice instantly as Negan's, without having to look at him; your head is lowered and your eyes are fixed on the floor. "You won't do anything stupid, right?" You know the question is directed at you. You shake your head nervously. Simon huffs and releases his hand from your arm. "Better. Now get out, Simon." Negan barks his order and Simon is quick to obey.
Now it's only the two of you and you're practically shaking. You swallow anxiously as Negan stands before you. He takes a step forward and you find yourself absentmindedly gazing at his worn and dusty combat boots for lack of knowing where else to look. You know he's staring at you and you feel awkward and a little foolish for being so nervous.
"Hey, doll. Don't look so fucking terrified." His voice is calm as he takes another step forward. You notice he has Lucille gripped loosely in his left hand… You can't help the way you're feeling. You're Negan's wife now and you don't want to disappoint him. He raises his right hand, placing his fingers under your chin; the soft leather of his glove brushing lightly against your skin. He lifts your head and your eyes wander over his tall and broad frame. He's dressed in much the way he usually is; dark grey pants, brown leather belt with sheathed knife still attached, zipped black leather jacket and a dull white t-shirt just visible at the opening of the jacket. He looks as though he's not long returned from the supply run you know he's been on today.
You find the courage to look him in the face and he's smiling his perfect smile with his tongue caught between his teeth and his bottom lip. "You know if you aren't ready for this-" He begins, lowering his hand from your chin, but you cut him off mid-sentence.
"No. I am." You insist, finally meeting his gaze. You stare into his incredible deep brown eyes and for a moment you're lost because god damn his eyes are really kind of beautiful. A soft tsk escapes from between his lips as he gazes at you, and now he's smiling again, his eyes wandering over you and taking in your little-black-dress attired body.
"Shit, girl. You are smoking, hot!" He huffs out a gentle laugh and you smile shyly in response. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other "What are you so fucking nervous about?" Really? He's really asking this question? He's fucking Negan. He just made you his god damn wife and requested you stay the night. Of course you're nervous.
"Nothing. I'm not nervous." You lie. He raises an eyebrow. His expression softens a little and he sighs, turning away from you. Your eyes follow him across the room as he places Lucille carefully against the cushions of a grey-patterned armchair – where you notice his prominent red scarf is already strewn. You watch as he unfastens the brown, leather belt that holds his knife and slides it away from his hips, placing it beside Lucille before dropping down onto a comfortable-looking, black leather couch. He looks back up at you.
"Well don't just fucking stand there." He says with a smirk, patting the seat beside him. You approach the couch and sit down, noticing the bottle of whisky and glasses set on the glass and metal-framed coffee table in front of you. Negan pulls off his glove and places it on the table before picking up the bottle and unscrewing the cap. "Have a drink. Help you calm the fuck down." He pours two glasses and offers you one but you hesitate to take it. "It's just one fucking drink. You think I'm trying to get you drunk? Shit. No. I want you to fucking remember tonight. Every detail, doll." He's smiling again.
"Thanks." You respond, finally taking the drink. For a short moment you glance around the room; it's the first time you've been in Negan's room and you're more than a little wowed; it's impressively decorated in shades of grey – much like the rest of the sanctuary appears to be. But there're plants, elegant lampshades, trinkets and unusual items displayed on tall shelves. There's even a fireplace, and a god damn chandelier hanging above his four poster bed.
You take a deep breath. Negan's probably right; having a drink will help you relax. And you hate feeling so nervous around Negan; you shouldn't, because he asked you to be his wife, and you accepted his offer willingly. And it isn't a bad deal; you won't have to work, you won't have to struggle to survive, you won't have to do anything except be his. The fact he is so god damn attractive is a bonus. But you haven't been with a man since before the world went to shit… And Negan has plenty of other wives who are more than capable of satisfying his needs-
Okay. Don't think like that.
You tip back the glass and swallow down its contents, feeling the dark liquid burning the back of your throat as it goes down. But you wouldn't call the taste unpleasant. You're aware of him watching you momentarily before he downs his own drink. He takes the glass from you and places them both back onto the table. "Yeah, that'll help you." He grins and you attempt your own smile as you shift your position on the couch, turning to face him.
Negan raises a hand and glides his fingers slowly through your hair, twisting them around the loose curls framing your face. He leans closer, his tongue slipping over his bottom lip as he gazes hungrily at you. And then his lips brush lightly against yours and you can barely call it a kiss. You close your eyes and press your lips against his. And his lips are soft; contrasting with what is probably a week's growth of rough, grey-white stubble clinging to his chin and jawline. His hand wraps around the back of your neck and his thumb presses against your cheek as you kiss. Your own hands slide against his thigh as his kiss becomes deeper and his tongue seeks yours; and you can taste the whiskey on him as he kisses you harder.
And then he stops and pulls back a little, his hand resting on your chest, he smirks. "I want you to strip for me, doll." You nod, standing up from the couch without hesitation because, as anxious as you are, what Negan wants, Negan gets. He leans back against the couch, resting his arms across the back of it as he watches you.
And you're suddenly glad you accepted the drink because you're feeling a little more relaxed, and certainly more confident as you stand in front of him, dragging the straps of your little black dress from your shoulders and pulling the zip down slowly. He licks his lips as he watches you. You smile at him as you slide the dress teasingly downwards, swaying your hips as it drops to the floor. Negan raises his eyebrows as he stares at you, taking in the sight of you in your black lace underwear.
He raises a hand and gestures with two fingers for you to approach him. You kick off your heels – you've never been a big fan of heels, but Negan has a strict dress code when it comes to his wives; the man likes what he likes. And you can definitely feel the alcohol working now; regardless it was only one drink, it was the first real drink you'd had in a very long time. Negan pats his lap, indicating for you to sit and as you move closer he pulls his hands around your waist and guides you down on top of him so your legs are either side of his.
You lean forward, inhaling his scent and he smells like a combination of whiskey and warm leather. Your lips catch his once again and your tongue is back to colliding with his as he kisses you harder and deeper; his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you against him and you can feel his erection pressing into you through his pants. His hands move to your thighs, his fingers dragging up over your soft flesh and causing a spark to ignite inside you as his thumb teases dangerously close to your core. But he's not ready to touch you yet; and you know he's going to make this last as long as he can.
Your hands fall down to the buckle fastened across the front of his jacket and you work to pull it open, before searching for the zipper and pulling it down. You slide your hands between the leather and his white shirt and over toned stomach and chest, pushing the jacket away from his shoulders. Negan sits up, releasing your thighs long enough to shrug away his jacket, all the while managing to keep his mouth pressed firmly against yours. His hands find their way back to your thighs before sliding round to cup your ass and he squeezes enough it causes you to whimper.
And he kisses you for only a moment longer before pulling away. He runs a hand back through your hair and gazes at you through heavy-lidded eyes. "Get on your knees." He demands. You quickly oblige; knowing exactly what it is he wants as you watch him unbuckle his remaining belt. You drop down in front of him and run your hands across his inner thighs and over his hardened cock as he unfastens his pants.
He raises his hips enough for you to drag down his pants and boxer shorts and you can't help but be impressed by the size of him, as you close your hand around his thick cock. You work your hand over him for a short while before lowering your head and dragging your tongue over his length, trailing kisses and tracing shapes at his tip. You repeat the motion, hearing a soft sigh pass his lips.
Negan's fingers pull through you hair again, practically holding you down as your tongue runs repeatedly over him. You glance upwards; his head is rolled back against the cushions of the couch, his eyes are closed and you watch his chest rising and falling as you work, eventually taking as much of him into your mouth as you can – but hell, there's a lot to take. You glide up and down; slowly at first, pausing now and again to tease him with your tongue and lap at the pearl white drops forming at his tip.
"Fuck…" You hear him mutter, causing you to glance back up as you continue sucking. "You're a real fucking pro, sweetheart." He breathes at you and you resist a smile as you begin to move faster against him. And after a short while you can feel his muscles beginning to contract as he tightens his grip on your hair and his hips buck gently forward. His head falls forward again and his eyes are locked on you as he rolls his hips; and there's no doubt he's taking charge of the situation in usual Negan fashion; fucking your mouth at a pace he controls, in a way that reassures you are his. His breathing grows heavier as he reaches a point of release and his hips jerk forward, "Fuck, girl." His voice is a guttural growl as he comes, releasing himself into your mouth.
Eventually he loosens his grip on the back of your head and watches as you swallow his come, and you gaze up at him as you tease your tongue over him one last time, catching every drop and causing his thighs to twitch at the sensation. He rolls his head forward and flashes another of his perfect smiles at you, "Good, fucking, girl." He drawls with raised eyebrows. Your eyes are locked on one another for a short while before he issues his next command. "Get on the bed, doll." Negan certainly knows what he wants and you're in no position to argue. "You deserve, a fucking reward." You can't help the smirk forming on your face as he speaks.
Licking your lips you pull up from the floor and do as you're asked, making your way to the bed and climbing on top of the grey-silver satin sheets. You choose to position yourself somewhere in the middle, propped up by a number of silk-smooth pillows. Negan wastes no time in following you, making a half-hearted effort to pull his pants back up around his waist, and grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the coffee table before approaching you.
Negan takes a long gulp of whiskey, directly from the bottle this time, and then offers it to you. "Shit, girl, if all that took was one drink? I wanna see what the fuck else you got." You take the bottle, deciding a little more won't do any harm. As you take a deep swig – and feeling the burn of the damn stuff again – Negan grips the hem of his t-shirt and drags it up over his head, discarding it carelessly onto the floor.
God damn.
You find yourself staring unintentionally at his shirtless body; toned and well-built and adorned with dark hair, and tattoos you didn't know were there. And he must have noticed you staring at him as he raises an eyebrow, "See something you fucking like?" He teases, dropping onto the bed on his knees and leaning over you to retrieve the bottle, placing it onto the nightstand.
And before you can react Negan is on top of you, hips pressing down against your own and his open belt buckle is digging against your thigh; but you're enjoying the moment too much to care; the taste of his tongue in your mouth; the feel of his hot skin pressed against yours. You run your hands over his toned arms and broad shoulders, before tangling your fingers through the jet black curls of his slicked-back hair.
And his hand runs up the inside of your thigh; his fingers brushing teasingly over the one place you're desperate for him to touch you; but he won't – not yet. Instead his hand trails over your stomach, his fingers causing a shiver to run up your spine. He slides up underneath the black lace bra and you can't help the soft whimper that escapes you as his fingers graze your nipple and he squeezes your breast.
His lips move away from yours, and you take it as an opportunity to try and catch your breath but Negan makes that impossible as he bites down against your neck and causes your breath to catch in your throat. He moves lower, placing biting kisses along your neck and across your collar bone – you're damn sure there will be bruises in the morning.
But then he pulls away, sliding his hands underneath you and encouraging you to arch toward him, and he makes quick work of removing your bra and discarding it someplace across the room. "Fuck doll, I just want to fucking, eat you all up." He declares with a smirk as you fall back against the bed, and he buries his face back into your neck to leave more bite marks that will only serve to remind you – and anyone else – you belong to Negan now.
Your fingers still curl through his hair as he works his way lower; his biting kisses now teasing over your breasts and his tongue swirling over your nipples. You roll your head back against the pillows and close your eyes, and the feel of his lips and teeth grazing your skin sends sparks through you leaving you desperate for more of his touch. And now he's moving lower still, trailing hot kisses down your stomach; until he comes to a pause at the lace of your underwear.
Opening your eyes you glance back down at him and as though he knows you're watching him, he looks back up at you, his eyes burning into yours. And then his tongue glides against your skin, back over your stomach and chest, causing you to take another deep breath.
And now he's kissing you again as his hand falls back down but this time he moves lower; his fingers now dipping teasingly below black lace, and you've never felt a longing to be touched before like you do right now.
Jesus Christ, Negan.
His hand slips between your thighs and you feel the first gentle wave of satisfaction as he finally presses a finger against your clit, and you moan softly into his kisses as he teases over you. Your hands fall from his hair and down his arms as he pulls his mouth away from yours to watch your expression. He smirks and his tongue traces across his bottom lip. "You're enjoying this more than you thought you would," he raises his eyebrows, "Right doll?" You'd answer him if you thought you could make words but any possibility of that is quickly eliminated when Negan presses a finger at your entrance. "Fuck yeah, you are."
You're aching for him. Pleading at him with your eyes and the expression on his face tells you he is enjoying every second of this; because you know there's nothing Negan loves more than being in complete control of any situation.
"No fucking good, sweetheart, I gotta taste that fucking pussy of yours." He grins and you take a breath as he pulls away the black lace underwear, leaving you lying entirely nude before him – whilst he remains partially clothed in unbuttoned jeans and leather boots. He bites back his smile as he looks down at you, and then his god damn mouth is pressed back against your neck and soon he's trailing kisses downward once more.
Negan moves lower, repositioning himself between your legs and kissing across your inner thigh; white-grey stubble scraping lightly against your skin and the sensation sends shivers through you and causes you to arch your back as he kisses closer to where you need him to be. You close your eyes.
Oh, god.
Before you know it his tongue is gliding over your clit; and you're already faltering so close to the edge you know it won't take long before you're screaming his damn name. You clench your fists, gripping at the satin sheets as he's tracing his tongue repeatedly over you, teasing at your aching entrance and causing you to push your hips forward. Negan chuckles at your desperation before bringing a finger up to you; you daren't open your eyes because you know he'll be watching for your reaction as he pushes slowly inside of you.
"Fuck…" You mutter under your breath as his finger moves in and out at a deliberately slow pace. And you're sure he's smiling against you as he's licking and sucking and kissing. And without warning he pushes a second finger inside and damn, you can't take much more as he moves faster; his fingers curling into you and driving you insanely close to release.
You roll your head back; your breathing rate increasing with every thrust of his fingers and flick of his tongue. There's an intense heat pooling in the very pit of your stomach and your muscles are beginning to tense; and he's so god damn skilled it's unreal. "Say it." Negan mutters against you as your back arches against the bed. "Say my fucking name, doll." And you can't help doing exactly as he tells you. And red hot sparks shoot through you as you're shattered by an intense pleasure; his fingers still driving into you as you come, hard.
"Negan. Negan!" And not screaming his name would very well be impossible as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm with his fingers and his mouth.
You're gasping for breath by the time he releases you and as you open your eyes – attempting to regain vision – he's grinning at you again.
"You taste fucking good." He teases, pulling up to his knees and gliding his tongue over his fingers. You can't help noticing his usually slick hair has fallen forwards over his forehead; a mess of loose, damp curls. "How many times do you think I can make you fucking scream tonight, sweetheart?" He raises an eyebrow as he looks down at you and you know it's a genuine question. You swallow hard and open your mouth to respond but you don't know what you're supposed to say.
Negan huffs out a soft laugh as he gauges the expression on your face, then reaches for another drink. He takes a mouthful and looks at you as though considering whether to offer you more whiskey; because he is probably serious about making sure you remember every damn detail, but you hold out your hand to take the bottle anyway.
"You fucking sure?" He questions. You prop yourself up on one elbow and he hands it to you. You take a gulp, because although getting wasted is likely not the best plan, if Negan is drinking, then fuck it, so are you. You wrinkle your face as the dark liquid burns your throat for the third time this evening. He simply shrugs with raised eyebrows as he takes the bottle back from you and replaces it beside the bed.
Negan runs a hand over his stubble-adorned chin and grins suggestively, before tugging at his belt and sliding it from off of his pants, pulling them back down again along with his boxers. The sight of his fully erect cock sends another jolt of electricity up your spine and he's quick to drop back down above you and you fall back against the bed. He wavers, balanced on strong, muscled arms and his cock presses teasingly against your entrance. You take a deep breath, beginning to feel the effects of the drink taking hold.
You place your hands either side of Negan's face, running them over his stubbled cheeks and your thumb rests lightly over his bottom lip and he catches it in a kiss. He's gazing down at you with heavy-lidded eyes as he moves to place one hand against your hip. And he drops lower, resting his weight on one elbow and leaning forward to lock his lips back onto yours. And suddenly you find yourself lost in him; like there's nothing else; there's only him; and you need him.
You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and pull him closer toward you, rolling your hips up to meet his and moving to kiss his jaw and neck; and he emits a low moan as you bite down against his shoulder. "Fucking say it, baby." He growls, fingers digging against your hips. "Tell me what you fucking want." He urges; his voice now a low whisper in your ear. Your face is back level with his and your eyes are locked on one another.
"Fuck me." You whisper at him and he grins, his tongue trailing over his bottom lip as you say the words.
"Say please." He chuckles.
"Please, Negan."
And he flashes another smile and you can't help the loud moan that passes your lips as he finally fills you with his thick cock. And you gasp with every long, slow stroke he's making. You pull your legs up around his hips as he begins to move faster; and it's ridiculous how incredible you're feeling right now with Negan falling up and down above you; his body pressed against yours, hot breath rolling over your cheek as you hold him against you and his deep brown eyes still locked onto your own.
Negan lowers his head, placing his mouth back on yours; he releases your hips from his grasp and trails up your side and back to your breasts. And neither of you can manage to coordinate your lips well enough to call it kissing at this stage, instead breathing heavily against one another as he fucks you harder still.
But then his hands are wrapped around your back and he drags you over and on top of him. Without warning your positions are reversed and you find yourself staring down at him. You drag your fingers through the dark and grey-stippled hair of his chest and the room appears to sway a little around you as you begin rocking your hips against him. Feeling his cock even deeper inside you only serves to push you closer to the edge again and you're sure he knows it as he lays beneath you; eyes heavy and mouth hanging open, tongue tracing his teeth and lips as he guides you up and down above him; hands gripping firmly against your thighs.
"Fuck, yes…" You can't help moaning as you feel your second release on the verge of exploding inside you.
"That's it, girl. Fucking come for me." He demands, his voice a guttural growl as he stares up from beneath you. And as though the sound of his voice alone is enough, you feel those familiar sparks shooting through you and Negan manages to elicit a genuine scream from you as he continues to thrust into you and a feeling of pure ecstasy courses through your body.
Holy shit, Negan.
And you continue to fuck as Negan reaches his own orgasm; his breaths quickening in pace before you feel his hips jerk hard and he releases inside of you; a deep, low moan escaping his lips.
"Fucking, fuckity, fuck." He declares, rolling his head back against the pillows and attempting to catch his breath. You struggle to calm your own breathing as you slow to a stop above him. And the room is still spinning as you fall forward, pressing yourself against his now damp chest.
"That was…" You attempt to find words.
"Fucking amazing? Yes it fucking was." He responds, an arrogant tone present in his voice. He drapes his arms across your back and you can't help grinning as you lay there because honestly, Negan is undoubtedly the best fuck you've ever had. "Hey, doll?" He pulls his head back to look at you and you glance up at him.
"Yes, Negan?" You respond.
"I hope you don't think we're fucking done for the night." You frown at him.
"Remember," he smirks. "I wanna see how many times I can make you scream before you beg me to stop." The thought causes you to inhale sharply as he holds you against him. "Fuck yeah, you got five minutes, doll. Believe me when I say I can keep this up the whole, goddam, night." His eyes tell you he isn't kidding, and as he relaxes his arms you take the opportunity to roll away from him and catch your breath.
You feel Negan glance at you, before he makes an attempt at pulling his pants back up around his hips. You lie back against the bed and stare up at the chandelier that seemingly sways above you; you start to consider perhaps drinking down whiskey directly from the bottle wasn't such a good idea. You close your eyes, feeling Negan's weight shifting from the bed.
"Sweetheart," He begins, the thud of his heavy boots moving around the bed. Your eyes flutter open again.
"Huh?" You don't feel altogether fully conscious. Negan chuckles; a deep and dry laugh.
"No more whiskey for you. Shit." He takes the bottle himself and swallows down another mouthful. A man like Negan is far more capable of holding his liquor than you are, undoubtedly. You frown at him but you can't help the smile curling over your lips. He sets the bottle back down and nods to the opposite side of the room. "Bathroom's there, doll."
Okay. Good.
You aren't at all surprised Negan has his own private bathroom in this place.
Sliding across the bed and placing your feet on the floor, you manage to convince your legs to work; although you're certainly feeling a little unbalanced, to say the least. And you've scarcely made it two steps into the room when you feel his tall figure emerging behind you. A shiver runs down your spine as his warm breath rolls across the back of your neck. His hands run over your shoulders and down your back, causing you to shudder gently under his touch. Then his hands are resting on your hips and he leans forward, his lips moving over your neck.
You turn your head to the side as he kisses you, and he pulls you against him so your back is pressed against his warm body. His kisses become rougher as holds you harder against him and his teeth graze your skin; and then he bites down and it's a damn good job he's holding onto you because you feel like your legs might give way any second. You take a sharp breath as he bites down again, and then you hear him kick the bathroom door closed and he pulls his face up so his mouth hovers by your ear.
"You ever fuck in a shower?" He growls at you. You don't answer, instead swallowing hard at his inquiry and glancing at the shower before you (and you're suddenly appreciative of the fact even his damn bathroom is elegantly decorated in yet more shades of black and grey, although now doesn't seem like a particularly appropriate time to admire the décor). His head bobs a little and you can feel him grinning against you. "Well, baby?" You shake your head softly. "Well fuck. You, are gonna love this."
Then he moves in front of you, his hands trailing from your hips to your ass and squeezing as he places a long, deep kiss against your mouth. And then he releases you – and you really wish he hadn't, firstly because part of you wants him to never let go, and secondly because you don't feel particularly stable on your feet what with the combination of liquor and the effect Negan's kisses are having on you.
He kicks off his heavy boots and drags down his pants, kicking them to the side of the room before taking a step backward and starting the shower up behind him. He stares at you with raised eyebrows and an expectant grin and you respond with a smirk as he pulls you under the water.
And the shower is warm and inviting, spilling down over your body and his; for a moment all you can do is gaze at each other, enjoying the heat of the water running over you. But it isn't long before staring at each other isn't enough and you pull your hands up around his neck, your fingers running over grey stubble and you pull him close to initiate another kiss. Negan's hands are quick to find your ass and he pulls you toward him; and you're impressed to find he's already hard again.
Shit, this man has the stamina of a god.
And then his hands slip down just enough that he's able to pull you up against him and before you know what's happening he's got you pinned against the wall of the shower; his tongue deep in your mouth and you can still taste the damn whiskey as you kiss him almost desperately, your hands dragging across his back and your legs around his waist. And he supports you with one hand while his other slips under your thigh and he beings pressing his fingers against your clit.
Your head falls back against the wall and you elicit a moan as he works his skilled fingers over you. He takes the opportunity to bite at your neck once again and you know there will be bruises.
"Oh, god. Negan." How is it possible for him to make you feel this way? You close your eyes, feeling the water rushing down over you face, you pull your fingers through his soaking hair. Negan removes his mouth from your neck and places light kisses against you jaw as his fingers massage you.
"Let me guess, you just want my dick inside you again?" He pauses his kissing for a moment and you open your eyes to find him watching you for an answer. He dips two fingers briefly inside and you can't help rocking your hips against him. "Of course you fucking do, girl." And with that he pulls his hand away from you and repositions himself so his cock rests at your aching entrance.
Fuck. Yes.
And then he pushes himself mercilessly inside, pinning you hard against the wall. You lock eyes with him, and this time there's no gradual increase in speed as he drives himself fiercely into you, causing you to gasp with every deep and ruthless thrust of his hips. His head falls forward against your shoulder as he fucks you unrelentingly, his own breath heavy against your wet skin.
You know you won't last long at this pace.
"I can't-" you sigh breathlessly. "I'm gonna-" You're finding words almost impossible as you feel yet another intense release building between your thighs.
"No. Nope. Don't you fucking dare." Negan growls at you. "Not until I fucking say so." He commands. You're well aware Negan likes to be the one in control of every aspect of his life, but this is ridiculous.
"Please." You're practically begging him. He huffs out a heavy and breathless laugh before pulling his face level with yours and staring at you.
"No." He smirks and slows to a stop, dragging you away from the wall and out of the shower, his hands still gripping your thighs and supporting your weight against him.
And the next thing you know you're stretched out across the bed; the sheets drenched from the water glistening from both of your soaking bodies and Negan is pressing down on top of you, sucking and biting at your breasts. You drag a hand over his shoulder, allowing your other hand to wander downwards to play over your desperate and pulsing clit.
But Negan doesn't like that.
He grasps your hand in his and slams your wrist against the headboard, causing you to wince with the pain. "Fuck no." He whispers, before pulling himself up and reaching backward. Then you realize what he's doing as he produces the belt he'd earlier slipped from his pants. His tongue licks at his bottom lip as he stares at you and you know exactly what he's thinking. "Do you trust me?" He asks. You're surprised he's asking.
"I-" Do you?
"I'm not doing this if you don't trust me." He states. You nod.
"I trust you." Maybe it's the alcohol talking. Or maybe you're more than a little excited by the whole ordeal. Or maybe, just maybe, you actually do trust Negan. He watches you thoughtfully for a moment before grinning; his deep brown eyes sparking playfully as he leans forward and takes both your wrists in his hands.
The leather of his belt is cool on your hot skin as he pulls it tight against you wrists, securing them above your head. And then he's back to kissing you; your jaw; neck; shoulders; chest; stomach. He keeps on going and you arch you back as he slips his tongue inside you again. You roll your head to the side, your eyes mindlessly wandering across the room. Your vision is clouded as the effects of the whiskey still linger. You try and focus – which is fucking difficult when Negan is moving his tongue relentlessly against you – and your gaze lands on Lucille resting in the grey armchair. You continue to stare at Lucille as your chest rises and falls rapidly and you try to focus on not coming yet; because Negan has demanded you don't.
But Negan has noticed you staring at Lucille.
"Oh, hell, you're looking at Lucille there…" He glances at you. "Well, how rude of me not to invite her to join us."
What?
"No, I just-" You don't know what you're supposed to say as Negan climbs up from the bed and strides across the room to retrieve his prized baseball bat. He turns back to you, gripping Lucille tightly in one hand and gauging your expression. He chuckles softly.
"Don't look so fucking terrified." You pull your wrists down, attempting to loosen the belt binding them as he approaches you. He pauses, pointing Lucille loosely in your direction and staring down her barbed-wire length at you. "You ever fuck a baseball bat?" You shift uncomfortably and suddenly you regret allowing Negan to restrain you.
Fuck.
"Jesus girl, I'm kidding." He throws his head back and laughs dryly at you. You swallow hard. "You know, unless – You fucking like the idea?" He tilts his head as he stares down at you and moves Lucille dangerously close to your chest. You stare up at him, biting your lip as you feel the cold metal of Lucille's barbed tip touch your skin. You attempt to steady your breathing, glancing at Lucille momentarily before shaking your head slowly at Negan.
"Oh, you fucking sure, doll? Because you know just about anything gets my fucking dick hard, right? Lucille is no, fucking, exception." And you don't doubt for a second that's fact. His tongue slips out, caressing the corner of his mouth as he drags Lucille gently across your skin, leaving a fine, red stroke over your chest. You hold your breath as you feel the barbed wire tugging at your skin. He flips the bat in his hand and stares wide-eyed at you, moving to press her handle against your wetness. "I bet she would fucking love going to town on that pretty fucking pussy of yours." He grins.
"Please, Negan. I don't-"
"Shit." He grins wider and raises an eyebrow at you. "Okay." He nods, lifting Lucille away from you and flipping her in his hands again. "Have it your fucking way." He chuckles.
"Asshole." You mutter.
"I know." He responds, throwing Lucille onto the bed beside you and dropping back down; strong arms supporting his weight either side of you. "Turn over." He demands as the corners of his lips twitch into another smile. And you do as you're told, resting on your elbows as your hands are still bound in front of you; damp waves of hair falling over your face. And Negan grasps your hips, pulling you closer to him; and you can feel his cock pressing against you again as he runs his hands over your back and toward your neck. He bends forward so his chest presses against your back and then his hand slides around your neck and against your throat.
Fuck.
A desperate moan escapes you as he thrusts deep inside you once more. And he's brought you so close to release already that every buck of his hips pushes you almost over the edge. And then he tightens his grip against you throat, his other hand trails from your waist to between your thighs and he runs his fingers back over you, and all you can do is gasp with every stroke of his cock and brush of his fingers.
"Negan, I can't. Please." And you feel his guttural laugh in your ear as try your hardest to keep yourself from experiencing the pleasure you desperately crave.
"I give you permission, sweetheart." He whispers against you, tightening his hand around your throat and working his fingers faster against you.
And this time you release a genuine scream as Negan makes you come for the third time this evening, your hips rocking hard against his. And he allows you to ride out your orgasm but as your breathing slows he pulls away and guides you again onto your back. You comply, pulling your belt-bound wrists above your head. And Negan leans over you, taking hold of his cock and driving his hand repeatedly over himself, until a breathy grunt escape him and he releases himself over you, his warm come spilling across your chest and stomach.
Negan falls down above you, resting his forehead against yours for a second as you both attempt to catch your breath, and then he pulls back up, grinning at you as he loosens the belt above you. "You alright?" He questions, an air of genuine consideration in his voice. You nod, unsure whether you have the ability to form a sentence just yet. You glance downward, taking notice of Negan's cloudy-white release pooled on your stomach.
He chuckles, dropping the belt to the floor and leaning toward the nightstand, retrieving, thankfully, a small box of tissues you hadn't previously noticed. "You look like you could use some sleep." He suggests, passing you the box and biting his lip with a sly smile. He isn't wrong; you feel exhausted – perhaps you shouldn't have had the drink. "Hey, sweetheart, it's alright. Get some fucking sleep." He suggests, acknowledging the concurrent look on your face.
And you aren't expecting this; you aren't expecting Negan to climb into bed beside you; or to pull you close against him beneath the silver satin sheets. Because you don't consider Negan as the sort of man to want to cuddle after sex. But he does. And you notice the beating of his heart has slowed to a regular pace as he allows you to rest your head on him and his arm wraps around you. You close your eyes, listening to only the sound of Negan breathing against your skin as he holds you; his fingers trailing your arm and lulling you gradually to sleep.
You awake some hours later resting on your side, warm and comfortable and wrapped in Negan's luxurious bed sheets. But you don't feel him beside you. You take a deep breath, stretching out on your side and as you turn your head to scan the room for him, you catch him dropping onto the bed behind you. "Good fucking morning, doll." He breathes, tracing his hand down your arm and causing you to shiver under his touch. You smile, turning to face him.
"Good morning to you." You mutter, catching sight of his ridiculously handsome face. And god damn, as if he couldn't be more handsome, you realize he is wearing black framed glasses. "I didn't know you wore glasses. You look different." You frown at him. He raises an eyebrow as though unsure whether to take your statement as a compliment or an insult. You quickly clarify the matter. "I mean you look, handsome." You smile shyly at him and he grins at you.
"Well, fuck. Thank you." His head bobs gently and he moves his hand to your face, brushing your chin with his thumb. "I was working." he nods toward the coffee table where a number of papers are spread out. "Figured you could use a little more sleep. You were dead to the fucking world last night. Guess I'm hard to keep up with?" He chuckles to himself. You shrug and pout at him.
"Don't flatter yourself," you tease sarcastically. "I'd had a lot to drink." Your eyes wander to his lips as he stares at you with a wide smile, tongue poised between his teeth.
"That fucking right?" He murmurs, pulling forward and pressing hips lips gently against your own and sliding his hands to your waist, dragging back the bed sheets. And suddenly you're very aware of his erection pressing against you.
Jesus Christ.
"I've got some time-" he mumbles, "Before I'm needed-" he kisses you softly, "And I'm fucking enjoying-" then his tongue searches for yours. "Screwing you."
You find yourself melting into his kisses as he glides his hand between your thighs, urging your legs apart. And you gladly move for him, because despite how many times Negan made you scream last night, you find yourself craving the feel of his thick, hard cock inside you once more before he has to leave, and you're left to go back to sitting around with his other wives until he makes the decision to fuck you again.
Negan pulls your leg up and over his own and presses his cock teasingly against your wetness. Your breath hitches as he moves against you. "Shit," he pulls his mouth away from you, "You're really fucking enjoying this, I can tell." And then he eases himself gently inside, and it seems he's purposefully taking his time to ensure you can fully appreciate the size of him. He wraps one arm around you, pulling your back as close against his chest as is possible, while his other hand rests on your hip.
Your head falls against the pillows and you moan softly as he pulls himself out and re-enters you, slowly. And he's placing more of his delicately biting kisses over your shoulders and neck as he drags himself torturously in and out, fucking you deliberately slowly; your hand trails to his ass in an attempt to pull him closer as though it were possible. And as he builds rhythm he moves to pull his glasses away, dropping them onto the bed beside you and then replacing his hand right where you need it to be; fingers rubbing circles against you.
Your breathing grows steadily heavier and you gasp with each deep, long stroke. And you can't help considering – as you appreciate Negan's fucking technique this morning – that every fuck is different with him; the only consistency being his desire to take control, which hasn't surprised you in the least.
"Baby," his voice is a low growl in your ear. "You better come fucking fast because I got places to be." Words elude you as he makes his demands but you're already close to the edge; his god damn voice alone is enough to have you faltering near absolute satisfaction.
And then it hits you again; wave after wave of intense pleasure and his name tumbles uncontrollably from your lips as he increases his pace, undoubtedly nearing his own release. And he's gripping your hip hard when he comes deep inside you, his fingers digging in and quite probably leaving more bruises against your skin; further proof you are his property.
Your skin is damp with sweat as he moves away from you and you roll onto your back. You watch him as he climbs silently from the bed and paces toward the dark wood dresser opposite and retrieves a fresh pair of dark coloured pants. You want to ask him if he has to go. You want to ask him to stay with you but you know you can't and he won't. He's Negan. He has work to do; and you sure as hell aren't his only wife. You watch as he pulls on the pants – and you can't help noticing he's unexpectedly not bothering with underwear this time – and then a clean white t-shirt. He turns to look at you.
"Feel free to use the bathroom, doll. I don't mind. Take a fucking shower. Take your time. I'll have someone bring you breakfast." You smile at his generosity. "You like," he pauses and rolls his eyes as though in thought. "Pancakes? You like pancakes?" Hell yes you like pancakes.
"Sure." You respond with a grin.
"Fucking great, someone will bring you pancakes." He smirks, stepping toward the bathroom to retrieve the boots he'd abandoned there the night before. He re-emerges, perching on the edge of the bed beside you as he pulls on his socks and boots. With his feet back on the floor he leans over you, placing a kiss on your forehead. "I can tell I made no fucking mistake in making you my wife." He smirks and reaches down to retrieve Lucille – who you hadn't noticed had found her way onto the floor during the night – before standing and striding around the bed toward the door.
He grasps the door handle and turns back to you, "Oh, and when you see her, tell Amber I look forward to seeing her later." He raises his eyebrows and flashes his perfect grin. You nod, remembering Negan does indeed have other wives he enjoys screwing just as much as you. And perhaps he saw the twinge of disappointment that briefly lingers on your face as you take in his words, because he's quick to reassure you; "Hey, don't worry, you'll be back in my bed before, you, fucking, know it, sweetheart." And with that he pulls the door open and steps out, throwing Lucille up on his shoulder as he makes his exit.
You roll over in the bed, inhaling deeply and appreciating for a moment that the satin sheets smell satisfyingly like Negan. And then you notice his glasses lying beside you where he'd discarded them. You pick them up, folding them neatly and placing them onto the nightstand alongside last night's whiskey bottle. You spend a few moments longer enjoying the comfort of the bed before deciding you should probably drag yourself up and into the shower before breakfast arrives.
Standing in front of the mirror you inspect yourself for evidence of Negan's dominating nature; and sure enough he's left obvious teeth marks and the slightest of bruising across your shoulders and neck. You trace a finger down the fine red mark left by Lucille but touching the marks he's left only serve to remind you of how much you enjoyed every second of being with him. You take a deep breath and shake the thoughts from your head, starting up the shower and stepping under its refreshing warmth.
A hot shower and a plateful of pancakes later – and it turns out pancakes are a good way to counteract the effects of copious amounts of whiskey – and you're heading back through the Sanctuary corridors to the other wives. You consider, as you walk, that at first your arrangement with Negan did not seem like a particularly desirable one; that marrying a man and agreeing to have sex with him for the guarantee of safety and security is perhaps an objectionable choice. But Negan, as it turns out, is not the monster some of the other sanctuary inhabitants make him out to be; that even some of his wives, make him out to be. He's charming, attractive, somewhat caring, it seems. And god damn, you look forward to the next time he invites you to his room…