Marveling at the drink in his hand, Simon twisted the glass in his grip and sunk back into the worn, comfortable armchair across from Negan. While it wasn't unusual for Negan to meet with him in his bedroom to discuss important things, and while it also wasn't unusual for them to have a few drinks so that they can end their business meeting with pleasure, it was the fact that he had a drink in his hand with a little umbrella. There was ice in his glass. It felt good to be on top.

Across from Simon in his own armchair, Negan watched his right-hand man over the salted rim of his glass. "Shit's good, huh?" His mouth was curved into a smile as he took a sip and then licked the salt off the rim. Then he licked his lips, too.

"I'm drinking a fucking margarita while there are corpses out there moaning." Simon copied Negan's movements and made a low noise of appreciation in the back of his throat. "I think I'm dead."

"Shit, I fucking hope not," Negan drawled, "because that probably means I'm fucking dead, too. Or fucking miserable."

"Aw," Simon teased with a wide grin. "You're gonna miss me when I'm gone?" He wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully.

Negan only crossed his legs and scoffed as he toasted his glass at Simon. "Fuck you, you know the answer to that."

"I'm surprised I do since I never hear you say it." At Negan's sharp and unamused look of reprimand, Simon held up his free hand and amended, "I never hear you say it often enough for my liking."

"Mm," Negan chose to take another rhythmic sip and lick of his margarita.

A silence fell over them both, at first comfortable, but then a little thicker with tension as it stretched. Their glasses went half-empty before Simon had enough liquid courage in him to break the silence again. "God damn, this is an excellent margarita. I feel like a regular Jimmy Buffet, minus the uncomfortable sand in my ass crack and unsightly tan lines. How'd you manage to get the ingredients for this without me noticing?"

"Whaaat," Negan began wryly, peeking over the salted rim of his glass again. Unlike Simon who kept his glass balanced on his knee, Negan held his close to his face and half-hiding behind it. Simon thought it was appealing…cute. Negan's hazel eyes were so playful and the yellow-green of the margarita brought out the own green in his eyes framed by those long eyelashes. Simon dropped his eyes once he realized Negan was staring right back at him with those knowing eyes.

"Sorry," Simon took a long sip and anxiously rubbed the back of his neck, "Did you say something?"

"Yeah, I asked why the fuck you were looking at me like that after I asked if you thought I was fucking hiding something from you." Negan's tone was more amused than irritated, and he re-crossed his legs the other way. "Though we both know the damn answers to both of those questions."

"Well you never answered my question," Simon deflected. "Where'd you get the ingredients and who made these margaritas?"

"What makes you think I didn't make them?" But Negan's smile admitted otherwise. "I asked Michaela to do it. She was a bartender from before and she mentioned one night that she fucking could." Negan finished off the rest of his glass and stood to pour himself another. The ice in the bucket rattled noisily, and at Simon's eyebrow raised in curiosity, Negan explained. "I asked Arat to find everything. Orange liqueur, lime juice, ice, salt."

"Tequila?"

"That I stole from you, and I'm not fucking sorry about it." Negan took Simon's glass with a wink before he topped it off again.

Simon took his glass back and scoffed. "I knew it."

With a snicker, Negan took a sip and gasped appreciatively. "Thank you for your fucking considerate-ass donation, Simon. Best right-hand man I could ask for."

Not able to think of anything witty, Simon just avoided Negan's eyes and drank his margarita, humming thoughtfully. Negan rolled his eyes and leaned his hip against the side of Simon's armchair. "Don't you wanna ask me why I had Michaela make these damn margaritas for our meeting?"

Licking his mustache, Simon dared to glance up at Negan. "These were made for our meeting? And here I thought these were leftover after you and Michaela danced with your hips in the horizontal tango."

"Nope." Negan popped the 'p' smugly. "This brew is just for you and me, Simon."

"Huh." Simon thoughtfully replied.

Heaving a big sigh, Negan sat on the armrest, crowding into Simon's space as he normally does, so much so that Simon could smell his aftershave and cologne and feel his intense body heat rolling off him in waves. "Ask me why I had Michaela shake this shit up for us."

Dutifully, Simon parroted, "Why did you have Michaela shake this shit up for us?"

"So that I could get your whistle just wet enough that you might consider fucking blowing me."

Simon nearly choked on his margarita and was thankful it didn't squirt out his nose. "What?"

Grabbing Simon's jaw and tilted his face up to him, Negan cut off all of Simon's questions with a kiss. It tasted of salt and tart and tang when he deepened it, and Negan didn't care when he spilled his margarita over the floor and Simon's, too. In between the kisses that he peppered across his jawline and down his neck, Negan murmured hotly, "Come on, Simon. You know I love it when people get on their fucking knees for me…and you make an especially pretty fucking picture for me…whaddya say?"

Simon didn't have the chance to say yes – and he would have said yes very enthusiastically – before Negan kissed him again. So in lieu of speaking, Simon gave his answer in his kiss. He'd wanted this for a while, for longer than he'd care to admit if he were sober. As it was, he was just a little tipsy. That's how he found himself growling at Negan as he started stripping the man of his jacket. "Fuck, yes, I want this."

"Yeah?" Negan brushed the tip of his nose over Simon's mustache as he took a pause. Those hazel eyes were cunning, charming, half-lidded in his pleasure. "I fucking knew that you wanted me. I've seen the way you shift when your dick gets half hard after just fucking looking at me."

Frustrated, Simon shut Negan up with another passionate kiss and quickly started to undo his belts and pants. Negan laughed when he pulled away to help him, yanking his white t-shirt off by the grip he had on the collar at the back of his neck. "Tell me how you want me, Simon. How do you fucking want this? Should I lube up my fat dick for you or am I gonna get to ride what you're fucking packing?"

"I want what you want, boss-man." Simon's thick fingers were surprisingly nimble when he started to unbutton his own navy shirt. With covetous eyes, he watched Negan climb off of his lap and kick off his boots before he pushed his pants completely off.

Once Negan was completely naked, Simon's eyes dropped to his hard cock as Negan took in hand for a few teasing strokes, showing off the length and thickness of it. It wasn't an exaggeration for him to call it a fat dick at all. "There's those fucking hungry eyes I love to see," Negan drawled gleefully and reached his other hand down to cup his balls. "You're a little fucking overdressed there, Simon."

Bare from the waist up, Simon stood and copied Negan's earlier movements of kicking off his boots and pushing off his pants. Negan copied Simon's earlier look of his lust as his eyes dropped to Simon's own impressive cock. "God damn. You've been keeping that fucking monster cock to yourself?" Negan clucked his tongue in mock reprimand. "Sharing is fucking caring, Simon."

"Well how was I supposed to know you when you surround yourself with pussy?" Simon backed Negan up to the bed, rubbing the tip of his nose and his mustache against Negan's jawline as he kissed at his neck.

Negan allowed himself to be backed up to the bed. "I like whoever tickles my damn balls, and speaking of doing just that…" He twisted their bodies around and pushed Simon down on the mattress. "Suck my dick?"

Licking his lips, Simon nodded, eyes already on the prize and hands already skimming up Negan's thighs to wrap around his cock. As if he were hypnotized, his head dipped forward and he kissed the tip before he swallowed it halfway down, eyes slipping shut in bliss.

It had been awhile – even before the end of the world. Good dick was hard to come by, but now Simon just hoped this wouldn't be a one-time thing. With how loose Negan is, Simon doubted it, but he couldn't be sure. Besides, he wanted more than just this.

There was a sharp tug on his hair that had him moaning around Negan's cock. Simon got the message and sucked harder, and Negan's fingertips skimmed down his cheek softly in reward. "God damn, Simon," Negan gritted through his teeth, and his growl set Simon's own neglected cock to throbbing between his thighs. "You suck dick like you're sucking down fucking tequila. You gonna guzzle my fucking come down, too, like a good boy for me?" Encouraged, Simon's head bobbed a little faster, his hand stroking the rest of what his mouth couldn't reach.

"Atta boy, Simon," Negan moaned appreciatively. He started thrusting into Simon's mouth, joining in the rhythm as he started to chase his orgasm. With every push of his hips, Simon felt Negan's balls brush his chin and he got a nosegay of pubic hair. Negan's cock gagged him, brought tears to his eyes, and he was choking. He needed air but he wanted Negan's cock more, so he didn't pull away.

"Mm, Simon. If you wanna be the top-damn-dog tonight, reach back there and slip a finger in my asshole, but if not then just hold on for the ride, baby boy." Simon's hands resolutely squeezed Negan's thighs and stayed there.

A wicked grin spilled across Negan's face like the margaritas staining the floor. Simon loved the buzzed look in Negan's eyes – and then he loved how they rolled back when Negan came, how Negan's come splashed down his throat as he dutifully swallowed, and how it was warm like milk when it trickled over his lips and down his neck when Negan's flaccid cock was pulled out of his mouth.

"You look like a fucking mess," Negan commented, as frank as he always was. His panting mouth quirked up in a grin, and he curved his spine as he bent down and licked up his essence from Simon's sweaty skin.

Catching Negan's mouth in a kiss as he pulled away, Simon muttered, "Are you still gonna fuck me, boss?"

Pushing Simon's muscled chest until the man flopped flat on the bed, Negan hummed playfully. "Is that a crack at my goddamn age, Simon?"

"No sir," Simon said just as playful, eyes glittering as he scooted his body up the mattress until his head was comfortably resting on Negan's ridiculously fluffy pillows. How the hell did he manage to get something as sinfully luxurious as this?

"Mhm, that's what I fucking thought." Negan's teeth flashed again. "I know I may be a little grey around the mouth, but hell. At least I got hair to turn grey, huh, Simon?" Rather than crawling up after Simon, Negan walked away to the liquor cabinet again.

When his back was turned, Simon's eyes dropped down to Negan's ass and he wondered what was next. He wouldn't put it past Negan not to break out fluffy, pink handcuffs on the first date, but Negan didn't even do that. He just grabbed the ingredients for the margarita and brought them back to the bed, taking a hardy swig, stick managing to walk with swagger even with a limp – albeit big – dick.

"I'm still gonna fuck your plump ass into the mattress, Simon, but we're gonna have to wait until Lucille Two is chomping at the bit to go again." Negan collapsed beside Simon, careful not to spill a drop. "But I'm sure you won't mind the wait at all."

"Why's that, Negan?" Simon's mouth twisted as he wryly joked, "You gonna give my salt shaker a shake first?"

"Give yourself some fucking credit, Simon. That big dick is more like a goddamn cocktail shaker." They both looked down at Simon's hard cock, weeping at the tip, and Negan licked his lips. "Hm. There's a joke in there somewhere about cocktail."

Threading his thick fingers through Negan's fine black hair, Simon tilted Negan's head back so that his lips could find Negan's pulse point. "I want your cock in my tail," Simon murmured, his other hand massaging circles into Negan's lower back.

"Down boy," Negan ordered and just as he always did, Simon followed the order. "I want to try something with you first, alright?"

"What is it?"

"Lie back for me now, and I'll fucking show you, hot stuff."

Curious, Simon leaned back against the pillows again and watched Negan eye up his body. Simon knew he looked good – he kept himself in shape for a reason – but still, there was something about seeing Negan look at him that way. It was Negan whose eyes simmered with heat and he was the one sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. His hazel gaze was so heavy Simon could practically feel it stroke his body and pet his cock. His cock actually twitched, and of course Negan saw and he cracked and even wider grin.

"Shame you're not fucking me with that, but there's always fucking next time."

Next time? The phrase rang through Simon's head and reverberated through his skull, echoing hope and happiness. Next time.

"Hm, you got a body like fucking gold, Simon. You look fucking delicious." Negan's fingertips danced over Simon's chest, looping around Simon's already erect nipples and giving them a playful twist. "I could just eat you the fuck up."

Simon's thighs spread themselves in preparation, but Negan was going to make him wait, of course.

"I'm gonna drizzle this shit all over your fucking body and lick you up until you're fucking begging me to slide my dick inside your ass." Already, Negan scooped up an ice cube from the bucket and pressed it to Simon's hot skin. He jumped, but as it started to melt against him, Simon melted right back, thrill shooting up his spine and down his cock at the sensation and Negan's filthy promise.

"Won't that be messy?" Simon found himself questioning all the same.

"You're already a fucking mess, Simon, and I'm gonna make you a goddamn masterpiece and a margarita. Your dick will just have to be the little umbrella, mkay?"

Simon didn't have the chance to say anything else before Negan splashed tequila on his chest and sucked a nipple into his mouth.

Well, Simon was right about it being messy, but Negan was right about it being so pleasurable that Simon didn't care and just wanted Negan inside him. But Negan had taken his time, squeezing lime juice on Simon's abs and then tracing his tongue over each bump and divots of his ribs. Simon was slick, sticky, not only from the booze but from his own salty sweat – extra salt when Negan playfully shook the saltshaker over him and then dipped his tongue in Simon's navel until he bucked his hips in a ticklish squirm.

"Negan," Simon mewled, and if he weren't tipsy and out of his mind with lust he would've been embarrassed. "Negan, please, please. Gimme your cock."

"No can do," Negan quipped. "Roll over on your belly for me, baby. I wanna spit in your ass."

With a low moan, Simon did as he was told, but Negan didn't just immediately spit into his ass. No, Negan's hands rubbed down Simon's back with such a reverent touch that Simon might have cried if he didn't hold it in. Humming to himself, Negan did it again, applying a little more pressure this time as he dug his palms in on either side of Simon's spine all the way down to rub his ass and spread his cheeks apart.

"Fuck, that's pretty." And then Negan licked a stripe up over Simon's perineum and then he was licking into Simon. He was drooling over the taste of him, spitting generously and watching it slip inside. Simon's skin was crawling at the dirtiness but he'd be lying if he said he didn't love it. Shivers went up his spin, goosebumps spread over his skin, his hair stood on end – and he could feel himself try to clench around Negan's wily tongue as he ached for more to stretch him and fill him up. The spit was only a ghost of what Negan's come would feel like, just a tease of it, and Simon wanted to be fucked full of it until it would leak down his hairy thighs.

He said as much to Negan. "Negan," he called out as he pushed his hips back into Negan's face, "Negan. Fuck me, fuck me full. I want your dick, I need it. Need you inside me. Need you."

When Negan laughed, his stubble itched against his hypersensitive skin and the rumble of it tingled warmly against his tender, puffy asshole. "I think you're ready for me now, baby. Don't you fucking worry. Daddy's already hard as rocks again." His open palm cracked down on Simon's ass sharply and it stung and burned. Simon bit his lip, swallowing his cry, and ground his cock into the mattress. "How do you want this? On your belly like this or do you wanna look at my motherfucking handsome mug?"

Simon's answer was rolling on his back, hooking his calves around Negan's trim hips and hands under Negan's armpits as he pulled him down closer. "Fuck me like this. Fuck me hard and deep."

"That how you fucking want it?"

"That's how I want you to fuck me."

"Well aren't you fucking perfect, Simon." Negan settled into position, holding his cock at Simon's entrance, teasing it by just resting the thick head of his cock against it.

More than eager and willing, Simon tilted his hips, but was proud when he didn't whine. Still, Negan grinned at him again and then with a wink he sunk himself inside.

At the first breach it stung bitterly, but once the head of his cock slipped it, the burn was less and more pleasant, a familiar ache for Simon. The burn was like the first sip of tequila down the throat, the one that made Simon gasp and his eyes water before he licked some lime juice and salt. Then it was just an intoxicating heat that he wanted more of it, and as Negan stilled to allow Simon to adjust to his considerable size, Simon asked for it.

"More," he croaked, digging in his fingertips under Negan's shoulder blades, "Move. Fucking move. "

Now Negan was the one following commands as he slowly started his rhythm. Hard pushes in and long, slow, tortuous pulls out. Each time was a drag over Simon's prostate, Negan's thick cock spreading him into two so much so that Simon felt like he was going to fracture and split into thousands of shards. But Negan just panted above him, his breath surprisingly sweet, and fucked him harder.

"God damn, you are tight, Simon. Tighter than some of the pussy I've been having lately. I'm gonna empty my balls in you and you're gonna fucking milk me dry, honey. Fuuuck," Negan drawled out slowly, "where the fuck have you been hiding, sweetheart?"

"Right here," Simon breathed and then gasped out, "Oh fuck! Right there, right fucking there Negan!"

The pace quickened and Simon moaned deliriously as he dropped his hand down to his cock to stroke. Negan wasn't having that, immediately smacking his hand away with a harsh snarl. "I didn't say you could fucking touch yourself! No baby, you're gonna come all natural with my dick in your ass or not at fucking all."

Whimpering, Simon reached over his hand and fisted the pillows and sheets in hand instead to keep himself from touching his cock again. It was achingly hard on his stomach, begging for touch, spilling precome. Negan refused to touch it, too, instead choosing to cup Simon's chest and squeeze, flicking his thumbs over his overly sensitive nipples.

Even without any touch on his cock, though, Simon was close. He could feel it, he was almost there. He could feel how close Negan was too because he was throbbing inside of him. Negan's jaw was clenched tight like he might crack a molar, an almost angry expression on his face, like he got when he held Lucille and cracked skulls. Simon's belly pooled with heat, balls tightening, and then he was spilling all over his stomach as he came without warning. Negan followed soon after, with each stroke pumping his come deeper inside Simon.

By the end of it all when they had both spent themselves and had to wait to get hard again, Simon still had no regrets or hard limits as Negan started to lick him clean. He started from his chest and working his way downwards, paying special attention to his nipples and his abs and his navel again, all of his weak spots, until he finally reached Simon's hard-again cock. Then Negan was the one on his knees, and Simon found the words in him to speak again.

"Fuck," he hissed between his clenched teeth, "Fuck, fuck, oh, Negan."

Around Simon's cock in his mouth, Negan hummed in response and bobbed his head faster. He had one hand down between his legs, jerking himself off simultaneously. Simon didn't notice, and if he had, it would've only set him over the edge sooner.

"Negan," Simon groaned and threaded his fingers through Negan's messy black hair, "fuck, yes, yes. Fuck, I love you."

To Negan's credit, he never lost his rhythm and the confession only fueled his efforts to go faster. In no time, he had Simon spilling down his throat and he was spilling into his own hand, too, at the same time. When he crawled back up on the bed to share a come-flavored kiss, he finally asked, "So, are you just the type to say fucking anything when you're getting your dick sucked or did you have more tequila than I thought?"

A little sleepy, Simon hummed out a soft, "Hm?"

"You told me that you loved me, dipshit," Negan told him affectionately. Curling around Simon's sweaty body, Negan was all too calm. "It's fine if you fucking do. I love you, too."

Blinking, Simon took a few steadying breaths as the words caught up to him and were finally processed in his brain. "Shit. I said that out loud?"

"Sure fucking did. Loudly, too. My ears are still fucking ringing from all that shouting you did earlier."

"Shut up," Simon muttered. "You were louder."

"Not by fucking much," Negan admitted. They spent a moment getting comfortable in Negan's sinfully lavish bed. The covers were pulled back, and they tucked themselves under the sheets; yet they still gravitated back towards each other as if they had been sleeping together all their lives.

"So, uh," of course Simon started, "where do we go from here?"

Negan amicably asked, "Do you want me to drop my wives and let everyone know we're fucking together?"

"No. You don't have to do that."

"You're fucking right," Negan dropped an affectionate kiss to Simon's hairy chest right over his heart. "You're already my right-hand man."