Carrie's marriage to Negan was a tense affair. The whole marriage idea itself was … unusual to say the least.
Being one of King Ezekiel's knights, Carrie had been there when their King met with Negan. Ezekiel had only brought a handful of knights: Richard, Daniel, Dianne, Carrie, and her twin brother Jerry. Negan, meanwhile, brought anywhere between fifteen to thirty people. His terms of surrender were simple: "Give me half your shit, or I will fucking kill you medieval fucks."
King Ezekiel had kept his grace and negotiated smoothly. "Please, Negan, sir, we have no issue giving you what you want, but you must understand as a fellow leader of men, that my people will be more complacent and provide more for you if they didn't know of your existence."
"That's pretty fucking ballsy of you to say," Negan had immediately responded, twirling that bat in the air. Observing all of this, Carrie had shifted nervously, not liking at all how the barbed wire on it glinted dangerously in the sunlight. The only thing that had been shinier than the barbed wire was Negan's smile. It could have been considered a handsome smile at the time had he not been so damn intimidating and obviously lethal. Though, he had not seemed unhinged. Everything was too calculated to just have been on a whim.
After a pause, Negan had tilted his head back and leaned back on his heels. "How the fuck do you figure that to work, 'Zeke? For me to collect without stepping a damn toe in your walls?"
All of the knights had stirred, not liking at all the disrespect to Ezekiel's title. Carrie had shot her brother Jerry a warning look to keep him from doing anything rash. Jerry had own hefted his axe higher in his hands, and Carrie had rolled her eyes.
Luckily for them, Negan had his gaze trained on Ezekiel, and he hadn't commented on the knights' obvious restlessness. He had blithely continued with a harsh edge to his deep voice, "Nothing lights a fire under anyone's ass more than that big fucking shoe over your head threatening to squash your ass like the fucking insect you are if you don't give me my shit."
Bravely, Ezekiel did not cower, but stood his ground. Carrie knew Ezekiel, though. She knew how deep this act ran considering how she and Jerry knew him from theatre. Jerry worked in set design and Carrie worked as the assistant director. Ezekiel was always the star, and such a nice guy. Still was a nice guy in this new, fucked-up world.
He was a regular method actor, but every actor had his nervous tells. For Ezekiel it was his eyes, the way they would shift to take everything in. Seeing how his eyes had darted back and further between the bat and Negan, Carrie knew that Ezekiel wished he had Shiva there – or better yet, that he didn't have to do this. Still, Ezekiel was in too deep now and there were no other options.
Ezekiel had explained his idea to Negan without dropping his accent, "What if I give my assurance as a king by swearing my fealty–" at Negan's irritated look, Ezekiel had hurried to explain, "The Kingdom will willingly serve you so long as you never step foot in our borders. You can have one of my knights as assurance that we will not fail you." Outwardly, none of the knights had reacted. The plan had already been discussed; Daniel had been chosen for it, he'd been ready.
Surprise had been clearly visible on Negan's face as his eyebrows had nearly crawled up to his hairline. "Shy-eet, that just sounds like you're trying to embed a sleeper agent in my motherfucking crew. How do I know your 'knight'," and Negan had made air-quotes with his fingers and had an overexaggerated expression on his face, "won't try and stab me in my sleep or spy on my shit? You want me to keep them fucking prisoner? Is that it? Take some fucking troublemaker off your hands?" A few of Negan's men had laughed at that, and it was like a ripple originating from Negan's dark rumble throughout the rest of the Saviors. There had been an underlying understanding of how a prisoner would be treated by the Saviors – not well.
"You have my word as a king that that is not the case. So long as my Knight lives with you in peace, there will be no trouble between us," Ezekiel had assured Negan confidently, not giving the Saviors the reaction that had wanted. He had gestured for Daniel to step forward, and then he had introduced him, "Daniel is one of my best knights. He will work for you willingly."
Not bothering to hide his unimpressed look, Negan had made a show of looking Daniel up and down and walking around him in a slow circle, the bat tip-tapping against the heel of his boot. Daniel was a younger man, and out of all of the Knights he was the most complacent. Richard was the leader of the knights, all too eager to volunteer as a way to get inside and kill Negan, but Ezekiel had not want to risk the Kingdom. Deemed too hot headed to go, Daniel had been chosen instead and given explicit instructions not do anything hostile. Daniel had been, in fact, willing to go, and the best candidate since he didn't have any family left here except for the Knights themselves.
After a long moment, Negan had finally replied, "I don't fucking think so. You must have terrible fucking knights to offer me this sorry shit." Daniel had stepped back in line, his face hard and impassive, and Negan had turned back to his own men like, 'Can you believe this shit?' Turning back to Ezekiel again, Negan had unapologetically continued, "I can't afford any fucking dead weight slowing my men down. Offer me someone else. Someone important to you."
Unwittingly, Ezekiel's tell had given himself away. He had taken a step back at the rejection and had glanced towards Carrie. They had once been a thing, but Carrie had broken it off. Ezekiel was a good man, but not what Carrie had needed. It hadn't been a mutual break-up, but Ezekiel had been decent about it. Still, he had feelings for her after all this time.
Unfortunately, Negan had seen where Ezekiel's eyes went and he hadn't wasted any time. "Her," he had pointed her out with his bat and he had that smile on his face.
Jerry, normally a happy-go-lucky, chill dude, immediately had stepped forward, axe midway lifted. Protectively, Carrie had stopped him with her hand on his shoulder, gripping it hard. Ezekiel, realizing his mistake, had countered Negan's command carefully, "I thought you said you couldn't afford any dead weight?"
Before she could help herself, Carrie had made a face, ready to snap her displeasure. Ever observant, Negan had seen that, too, and his smile had gone crooked, his expression morphing into one of glee. "I don't think she's dead weight to you, Ezekiel." Sauntering over to Carrie, Negan had straightforwardly asked, "You look like you can defend yourself, but will you protect others? Will you serve me?"
Eye to eye with the man himself, Carrie had stepped in front of her brother to keep him from doing anything rash or stupid. Those emotions could get you killed. Now she was nose to nose with him, albeit he had a few inches on her, but she was broader than him. He was undeniable handsome, but she couldn't let that distract her. But she was confident in her abilities. She could do it all. "Yes, I will."
Little did Carrie know that those were her vows.
Pleased with her answer, Negan had made a small noise at the back of his throat in acceptance, but Carried had also suspected that he sounded intrigued by her. His eyes had been surprisingly warm, curious. She should have known that he was planning something then.
"Please," Ezekiel had interrupted the moment, and Negan had whipped around to face him too quick, as if he'd been expecting Ezekiel's reaction. "Please," the King had repeated, "leave her here. Should anything happen to her…" he had trailed off, letting the sentence hang in the air, not exactly a threat but a promise of something. Retribution, maybe? Jerry had a look on his face like he wanted to say the same thing and much, much more.
It didn't faze Negan at all. He hadn't even blinked. "Well, Zeke, now we have a deal I can fucking get behind!" Negan had glanced over at Carrie and gave her a meaningful once over. She had blushed and then he had addressed Ezekiel again, "If you want, I can keep her safe for you. She doesn't have to be a Savior. In fact, she doesn't have to lift a damn finger, just be one of my wives."
Needless to say, it hadn't exactly gone over smoothly. It was a shit kind of romantic proposal, but Negan had been serious. He said that he wasn't going to require any 'wifely' duties from her, because he abhorred rape. But this really put Ezekiel on the ropes. The Kingdom wouldn't be able to risk anything with Carrie since Ezekiel cared about her so much, and Carrie had family: Jerry. But they all consented willingly, Carrie willing to do it for the Kingdom.
Jerry had been the one to hand her over to Negan – walk her down the aisle in a way – after a brief hug goodbye. There had been no tears, but Carrie whispered to him that she would come back one day. Made him promise to stay alive and stay safe.
And her marriage ceremony when she had gotten back to the Sanctuary – an impressive factory guarded by the dead – had consisted of changing into a short white dress that complimented her skin tone and a kiss at dinner in front of everyone there so that they knew she was Negan's. Carrie was surprised at herself for enjoying the kiss, but Negan could kiss damn well. And she couldn't help herself from wondering just what else he was good at. What else could his talented mouth do.
For a while, Negan left Carrie alone, not forcing himself on her and just hanging out in the parlor with her, playing board games and cards as a way to relax. Sometimes they would kiss, but they never took it further. When he was in a fucking mood, he always got another wife, and they were always more than willing.
They had told Carrie often how good he was in bed, and it drove her crazy in more ways than one. Her curiosity went rampant, and as the weeks went on she became sexually frustrated. The walls were thin enough that she could hear just how talented Negan could be, and she was starting to get jealous of how sated and satisfied the other wives would look the mornings after a night with him.
Carrie kept up with how the Kingdom was, though. The Savior Lieutenant that acted as the liaison between the Sanctuary and the Kingdom – Gavin – would always come and tell her as per Negan's request. After all, her position as a wife relied solely on if the Kingdom complied with Negan's men. For the most part, the Kingdom was doing well. Gavin told her that Richard could be a disrespectful handful sometimes, but other than that, the Kingdom never came up short. The fresh fruit was nice to have at the Sanctuary, and it reminded Carrie of home.
And while the Kingdom would always be her true home, Carrie could see just by living here than Negan wasn't quite so bad. He burned off a guy's face once, but other than that he was fair to his people. The world had changed. Negan was just ahead of the curve.
Well, Carrie's allegiance be damned, there was nothing wrong with fucking. She wanted it, and that didn't mean she had to care about Negan. At the most, they could be fuck buddies, friends with benefits, what have you. All Carrie knew is that she needed satisfaction, and cheating on Negan wasn't an option; that rule had been made crystal clear to her.
Carrie planned it to where she'd be waiting in Negan's room for him. She told the other wives that she was ready, and they smiled at her, happy for her. Wearing the white dress she had been married to Negan in and nothing else, Carrie reclined on Negan's bed, waiting.
Luckily, she hadn't been kept waiting long. Negan stepped into his room with a tired sigh, tossing his scarf on the bed without looking. The scarf hit Carrie in the face, and she snorted, amused. At the sound, Negan paused midway through setting Lucille down on her chair, and then swung around raising Lucille up, ready to strike. Instincts not dulled much by her time spent as a wife, Carrie rolled over to the other side of the bed and defensively raised her hands. "Sorry, Negan, I didn't mean to startled you."
Once he saw who it was, Negan lowered Lucille and smiled wickedly at her. "Well, shit, isn't this a nice fucking surprise for me. To what do I owe the pleasure, Care-Bear? Please tell me this is a visit for fucking pleasure rather than business. Your Kingdom is doing just fine so don't get your panties in a twist. Unless, you want me to twist your panties. What the fuck do you need from me?"
Carrie rolled her eyes at Negan's theatrics. He could be just as bad as Ezekiel sometimes, and it honestly made her wonder if he used to do community theatre, too, before. The nickname didn't bother her much, which surprised her. Ezekiel had tried to call her Duchess or Princess, but Carrie didn't care much for it. He was always trying to protect her, but she didn't need it. If anyone did, it be Ezekiel. Pulling herself away from her thoughts, Carrie climbed back on the bed again. "What if I told you that I'm not even wearing panties, Negan?"
Negan raised his eyebrows in surprise, and stuck his tongue between his teeth so mischievously. Lucille was gently placed in her chair, and then Negan moved back to the bed, his long strides like a panther stalking his prey. "I would say I fucking like that." He reached out and trailed his fingers over her face, fingertips caressing the plumpness of her cheek from cheekbone to soft jawline. Before he leaned down to kiss her, he warned her in a low voice, "Care-Bear, if you want me to take you, it's not gonna be sweet and slow. I'm in the mood for a hard fuck. I like it damn rough. But if you want sweet and slow from me, I'll give it to you one day. Today is just not that fucking day."
Good. Just what Carrie wanted. "I'm no small, delicate thing, Negan. Fuck me hard." And with that, Carrie sealed the deal with a kiss and unlike their other ones, she didn't keep it light or languid. She sucked his bottom lip hard into her mouth and nipped at it until she tasted blood.
With a hiss, Negan withdrew, blood dripping down his beard and staining the silvery parts of his stubble. He licked his lip, tasting the metallic tang of his own blood, and immediately his expression shifted into one of manic glee. "That's fucking like it, but first things first…" The hand on her face slipped down her neck and grasped it firmly, his long fingers tightening like a snake. "I'm your Daddy now." The thumb on her neck rubbed up and down, his fingertips twitching but not scratching her with his blunt nails. It was obvious that he's done this before.
Mouth open wide and eyes going half-lidded at the pain intermingling with her arousal, Carrie did her best to nod her head. Her hands came up and grasped at his wrist, but she didn't try to pull it away. She wanted this, too, though she had never done it before.
Sucking his injured lip into his mouth, Negan's eyes roved over her face hungrily. "You wanna fucking stop, you tap wherever you can reach on me twice or you call out 'Lucille', okay, Care-Bear? Daddy may want to use you for his pleasure, but we all got fucking limits. You don't have to convince me that you're a badass." To prove his point, Negan loosened his grip around her throat and Carrie gratefully sucked in great gulps of air. Pleased, Negan nodded at her, and then jutted his chin out towards the headboard, "Now lift up your dress for me and show me your fine ass." His hand was removed from her and scrubbed through his beard, gingerly touching his lip and examining the blood on his finger.
Figuring that Negan planned to get down to business, Carrie turned around and crawled toward the headboard. She planted herself shoulders first on the pillows, face turned to the side so she could breathe, and reached behind her. The wedding dress was hitched up until it was above her hips, her entire lower half exposed. In the face-down/ass-up position, Carrie shook her rear from side to side and spread her legs. Ready for him to take, her dripping sex was revealed as she grasped her rear and thighs.
However, Negan surprised her when he grasped her ankles and pulled. Carrie flopped down on her belly in surprise and looked over her shoulder at him just in time to see him bring a leather-gloved hand cracking down on her rear. "Not so fast, Daddy likes to fucking play first." He spanked her again on the other cheek this time, and Carrie surprised herself when she moaned. "Yeah, you fucking like being punished, huh? You know why I'm punishing you?" Again, he brought his hand down and Carrie marveled at how arousing the feel of cool leather on her rapidly warming skin was. "Good girls don't sneak in Daddy's room." Smack. "Good girls wear their panties and keep them clean." Another smack. "And good girls speak when they're spoken to." Three harder smacks all on the same spot.
Writhing underneath Negan's hand, Carrie threw her head back and loudly moaned. It felt like her skin was on fire and stinging, but the pain only caused that feeling in her gut to tighten. She was close to coming all ready and all he's done is talk and spank her. Carrie never knew she was into this, but god, what has she been missing out on all her life.
That leather-gloved hand came down hard on her rear, achingly close to her pussy. "If you don't start talking, then I'll gag you. Would you like that? For me to tie you up and fuck every hole to my fucking heart's content? Speak up now, or Daddy's taking this shit into his own hands." He dragged his hand down, dipping low, but not touching her how she wanted. And then there was an unexpected smack right on the outer lips of her vulva, and Carrie couldn't keep quiet at that.
"Oh, Daddy!" Carrie called out, tears springing to her eyes. Now her pussy was aching for another reason, but that didn't dim her pleasure in the slightest. "Fuck, Daddy, I'll be good if you fuck me. Fuck me into submission!" She dared him impudently, pushing herself into his hand. She brought her hands back and stroked her hand over her blushing cheeks, egging him on. It had been so long, but that didn't mean she planned on giving in easily.
Catching her eye, Negan pressed his lips together, narrowing his gaze. The challenged incited his possessive side further, and he reached up and snatched up his red scarf. Wrestling her hands behind her back, he tied her securely, but not so tight that the fabric would be uncomfortable. "I'm gonna make you beg for it," Negan growled, and yanked her hips up, grinding his pelvis against her. "You don't get Daddy's dick until you fucking beg for it!"
Petulant, Carrie buried her face in the pillow, muffling her moans. The friction of his pants against her sensitive skin drove her wild, and Carrie briefly considered that she wasn't above frottage as a means of getting off. Spreading her legs and pushing further back into Negan's considerable package, Carrie searched for that desperate contact that she needed. Instead of satisfying her, feeling his clothed erection pressed against her only drove up her arousal even higher without giving her the relief that she wanted. Frustrating herself, she bit the pillow and moaned around it. Her pride wouldn't let her beg yet.
Well, Negan wasn't having that. He grabbed fistfuls of her hair and yanked, lifting her face off the bed so he could hear every pitiful noise that came out of her mouth. "None of that shit, Care-Bear. Daddy loves a screamer. Are you gonna scream my name for me like a good girl? Or am I gonna have to get that gag for you after all?" Negan tugged again at her hair, driving his point home.
Again, the pain was Carrie's pleasure. Her hair follicles were screaming, but it only made her wetter and more excited. Carrie's pride would have to be put aside one night. It had been too long for her to keep up this game and build the anticipation even further. "Please, Daddy," Carrie gave in with a loud moan, "Fuck me hard, Daddy."
"That's fucking like it," Negan crowed and released her. Eagerly, he pushed down his pants and underwear, erection springing up. He rutted it up against her, wetting himself between her labia, and Carrie deliriously moaned her approval and moved back against him. Without wasting anytime, Negan lined up and pushed into her. The pain was fleeting as Carrie adjusted, but she did adjust. There was no pause from Negan, though, as he set a quick and brutal pace. His hands came back up and he buried his fingers in her hair. Negan's other hand came up and wrapped around her throat. He lifted her up against him, and she could feel the fabric of his shirt press against the revealed skin of her back, thanks to the dress.
Just like how Carrie wanted, Negan rode her hard. It was sloppy, it was rough, it was loud – and most importantly it hurt as much as it pleased her. There was grunting from Negan, filthy curses, but he didn't degrade her, singing her praises, "God, you're so fucking wet. You feel amazing. So damn hot. God, your pussy feels damn good. All for me. All for your Daddy."
On Carrie's part she was loudly moaning, borderline crying from the force of Negan's thrusts. Occasionally it became hard to breathe in Negan's crushing grip and there would be bruises, but it never became too much for her. The texture of the leather glove was addicting to Carrie. Her bound hands behind her back scrabbled for purchase somewhere, her fingertips barely able to brush against the soft skin of Negan's pelvis and lower stomach. Carrie's nails scratched him, and Negan hissed and fucked her harder for punishment.
Tears of pain and pleasure leaked down her face and Carrie sobbed – and then came, and it was the release she had been looking for all along. He fucked her through it, and Carrie rode out her high. Once it was over, she collapsed, tired, but Negan chuckled at her, "Oh, Daddy's not done fucking you yet."
After having her come twice more, Negan finally released her hands and Carrie reached down to touch herself. At this point she was thoroughly dick drunk. Three orgasms had not sated her yet, only fueling her desire for more. Chest heaving, Negan reached over her for the bedside table, opening the drawer and rummaging around for something. Carrie didn't stop rubbing her clit, but she was curious. "Daddy? What are you doing?"
"Daddy wants to fuck your ass," Negan explained, and he paused momentarily. They made eye-contact and Negan tilted his head, wordlessly asking for permission. It was touching, and Carrie took the moment to think it over to herself.
Anal is something that Carrie has done before, usually with toys and plugs. She's even had sex before wearing the plugs, but she's never gone further than fingering with a partner. The intrusion of Negan's thick cock couldn't be that much, could it? Not when he was thoroughly lubricated with both her juices and the lube he fetched from the drawer. She nodded her consent, and then added for good measure, "Fuck my ass until you come inside me, Daddy."
A pleased smile stretched across Negan's face and he actually bent down to kiss her forehead before he moved around her again. "I'll try my fucking best not to ruin this pretty dress on you, Care-Bear. You look so good for Daddy all dressed in white." Then Carrie felt the lube generously drizzle over her sore bottom as if Negan were pouring ketchup on his fries. From Negan's point of view, it was more like watching a white chocolate sauce spread over chocolate and strawberry ice cream. The skin on her ass was still red, both from the spanking and from Negan's bony hips pounding into her. He lubed up his own cock, staring down at her rear with a hungry look in his eyes. This was going to be very fun. "You ready for Daddy?"
Whining slightly at the blissful coolness of the lube on her hot skin, Carrie called back to him, "I can take it, Daddy."
"Oh, I bet you fucking can," Negan agreed and gently worked a finger into her hole. It was the same hand that he wore his leather glove on, something he didn't notice until he had already started probing around. Not that he minded, but that he forgot to take it off. But Carrie seemed to love it, judging by her groans, so Negan adding another finger and started scissoring her.
Negan's assumption was right; Carrie's new favorite kink had to be the feeling of leather on her skin. Something about the contract of the leather in her ass in comparison to the silk sheets crumpled beneath her knees or the lace of her wedding dress clinging to her sweaty back. "Fuck, Daddy, that feels so good," she managed to convey, and her forehead dropped down and pressed hard on the pillow. One hand propped her up but the other had her fingers buried in her cunt, thumb on her clit as she rode her hand until her wrist hurt and then kept riding it.
Eager for his own release, Negan pulled his fingers out and grabbed himself, pressing the head of his cock against the loosened ring of muscle. His other hand had her meaty hip in a bruising grip, holding her steady. "I'm gonna fuck you now until you can't sit, you can't walk straight. All you're gonna do is just lie here in my bed and wait for me to fuck you again. You're Daddy's now." And then he slid inside her midway until there was an unexpected give and he slid in even further with a grunt of surprise.
Mouth open wide in a silent 'oh', Carrie pushed herself back into him. Time stood still as they both focused on the new sensation. For Negan, her ass was tighter than her cunt, but just as wet and just as hot. For Carrie, Negan's cock was so much thicker than anything else she'd put there before, but the silky hardness of his cock was so much better than any silicone texture of her toys. The only thing that could have felt better would have been if he had a leather condom. Maybe another time.
Then Negan was moving, and he leaned back, watching his cock disappear inside of her. It was a heady experience, and the ripple of her large ass made him want to see it move harder. He brought his free hand up and smacked it again, and Carrie shouted, tightening around his cock and her fingers. She found a rhythm that worked for her, meeting his thrusts and driving forward into the cup of her hand.
Doubtlessly, she'd be a sore body and a complete mess, but she didn't care. How could she care about anything when everything inside of her was singing about how good Negan made her feel? This was definitely different than the mild sex she'd had with Ezekiel. He tried too hard to make her feel good, focused too much on worshipping her flesh, but when it came down to it, if you couldn't pound an orgasm into her, Carrie would take it into her own hands. Negan was nothing like that. He used her for his pleasure, and Carrie reveled in it, finding that bliss and liberty that came from having the control out of her hands. Negan's next stroke drove all fleeting thoughts of comparison she had about Ezekiel out of her mind, and Carrie was reminded of another reason why Negan was better. She couldn't think when she was with him, she just let go and gave into all her animalistic desires, and so did he. Negan wasn't going to judge her for it or her kinkiness like Ezekiel had balked at her suggestion for anal play. God, this was so much better and just what Carrie needed.
Finally, she came again, freezing in place and shaking from the sheer force of her orgasm. Negan felt it, but still held on to his own, again fucking her through it. When Carrie fell, pulling her hands away, lying there trying to catch her breath, only then did Negan spill himself inside her ass with a grunt. He was tired, too, though definitely not as tired as her. Pulling himself out, Negan admired the way his white come leaked out of her hole, contrasting with the pink and brown of her skin. She looked good enough to eat, but maybe later.
Negan climbed out of bed, fetching a dampened bath clothe from his bathroom. Returning to her, he cleaned her up and then himself. Then he gathered Carried in his arms, dried her tears, and pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead. After that, they slept, not a word spoken between him.
There were many repeat incidents after that. It became a weekly occurrence for Carrie to go to Negan's room for some release. They rarely did the same thing twice, experimenting a lot. Sometimes Carrie was the one who took the reins, using and abusing Negan to their equal content. Together, they were always passionate, but rarely sweet. That part always came after. It wasn't love, neither of them even had doubts about it. But it worked for them.
Eventually, though, Carrie became restless, much like how she'd been before she worked up the courage to see Negan for some release. This kind of release was different, not sexual, but still physical in a way. Negan saw it for what it was immediately before Carrie even did. She was bored with her position as a wife. Sure, she'd enjoyed the position for its perks, but after the novelty of it wore off, Carrie was finished with this mild vacation. Carrie was a survivor, someone who enjoyed going out there and getting the job done. She was a provider first and foremost.
So, one day, after one of their sessions together, before Negan allowed himself to drift off to sleep, he made Carrie an offer. "Care-Bear, are you happy?"
"I'm satisfied," she answered shortly, her sex-brain too addled and tired to really think about her answer.
Understanding, Negan takes it at face value. "What if you weren't a wife anymore, would you still be fucking happy?"
She tenses and pulls away enough to look up at him. "What happened to the Kingdom?"
"Shit, nothing. Don't you worry about that," Negan assures her and draws her back in to his chest again. "The deal I have with them stays, but I'm offering you a new deal."
Resting her cheek on his chest, Carrie combed her fingers through his sweaty chest hair. "What kind of deal, Negan?"
"Care-Bear," Negan begins, "how would you like to be a Savior?"
It was quiet for a long time, and then Carrie spoke her thoughts to him aloud. "You expect me to work for you, subjugating other communities like you're doing to my home?"
"You don't think you can fucking do it? That's what Ezekiel originally proposed for anyway. Don't try and bullshit me, Carrie. I know that you've done some shit, and I know you still have it in you to do some more bad shit. Hell, you've seen the people here. You know we're not all fucking bad. Won't you fucking do it for them? Do it for fucking me?"
Again, the conversation listed off into silence, and if Negan didn't know any better, he'd had thought that Carrie had dropped off to sleep. Finally, though, she answered him. "I'll do it." She didn't say who she was doing this for, but it didn't matter. Negan had lost a hell of a lot of men the other day when an entire outpost was slaughtered in their sleep. He needed more Saviors and he needed them fast. Carrie could handle herself and he trusted her. She would have to do.
"Good."
"Will we still do this?" Carrie surprised him by asking. For one, he thought she'd break it off, but Negan had no intention of letting her go. Like he said before, she was his now. No one else could touch her.
"Fuck yes, we're still doing this." Negan shifted restlessly into a more comfortable position. Now they were spooning, his chin on her shoulder, hand stroking over her soft and rounded belly. "You'll find that you get to keep a lot of your perks as one of my Saviors."
"Me? Your Savior? I like the sound of that."
Negan chuckled, his breath hot and damp against the shell of her ear. "Fuck yeah, so do I. But don't you fucking forget, Care-Bear. You'll always be one of my brides."