Summary: A new face gets a new beginning, and it all starts with a game of poker.
Word Count: 2842
Warnings: Language, innuendo
Authors note: During a conversation with fuck-yeah-lets-do-negan-ff we managed to get the image of Negan stripping out of our hands. This was the result. Hope you enjoy!
Parts: 1/1 - Completed

The thing about night time during the apocalypse was the severe lack of good entertainment. You could only read a book for so long before the candle light began to irritate your eyes. Even at The Sanctuary with the convenience of power, warm showers, and comfortable beds, there was a shortage of things to do.

You had honestly wandered upon The Sanctuary by accident. When the world went to shit, you were held up in your small town pharmacy with the few local survivors. Over the past two years, eight had dwindled to five, then three, until finally it was just you. You had been grateful for them teaching you how to survive in this new, cruel world. You know you wouldn't have made it this far without those skills.

It had been a month since you had wandered to The Sanctuary, curiosity taking ahold of you after seeing the walkers posted out front on spikes and chains. Dwight had been the one to greet you and quickly escorting you to their leader, Negan. Once arriving, you told him your story, sparring few details. Negan kept his eyes on you the entire time. You could tell he was studying you, looking for inconsistencies, lies, or faults in your story. But there were none. You spoke of your group with fondness, how their loss hurt you but did not dull your desire to live. You told Negan your skills, how you could hunt, handle a gun and a knife, and how you were not afraid to do what needed to be done in order to survive.

Negan was quiet the entire time and every glance you stole at him intrigued you even more. His gaze was intense, the fingers on his left hand traced his thin lips while his right stroked the handle of his bat, Lucille he called her. When you were done, Negan leaned forward, lacing his fingers together and sighing deeply.

"You must be one tough bitch" he said, unapologetic about his crude language. He gave you a sympathetic smile before launching into the details you needed to know. Life in The Sanctuary was good, but rules were implemented and needed to be followed. You worked for points that were used for food, toiletries, anything wanted really. He wasn't going to give you back the weapons they had confiscated from you upon your arrival just yet. But with time and proven loyalty, there was no limit to what you could receive.

You have a shared room, though your roommate was only there to sleep. She had not been interested in making friends at all.

The days passed as you were assigned jobs ranging from tending to the small garden, to watching the kids that roamed the grounds, to eventually watching the gate, and tomorrow you were finally going on a run. It was a short one, just to an outpost to collect the "taxes" they had collected from one of the other communities, but you were excited. Finally you would have your hunting knife and Beretta back, even if it was just for a day. You felt naked these weeks without your only truly constant companions. But tonight, sleep was alluding you, making you restless and needing something to do, but the halls were quiet.

You made your way down to the common area where most of the meals were eaten. There were windows at the top of the walls let a little moonlight in allowing you to see the stars from where you sat. Your mind was going over everything that had been explained to you earlier in the day ranging from what would happen tomorrow to how things needed to go.

There was a group of men a few tables from you, playing cards. One of them glanced up at you in curiosity and you smiled at him. You thought briefly about going over there and swindling them out of their winnings, but decided against it. It didn't seem like that would go over well with them.

A sudden silence engulfed the area as a light tapping could be heard coming down the hall near the card players. You glanced up to see Negan entering the room, followed by Dwight and Simon. Immediately you and the card players dropped to your knees. This was a custom that took a while for you to get used to, but now it was second nature. Anything to stay.

Negan paused at the card players and you returned to your seat. You could see them talking and laughing out of the corner of your eye and you took the time while his back was turned to study the leader of the Saviors. It was something that you had done surreptitiously every time you saw him. Now was as good a time as any to continue your cataloging of his features.

He was tall and lithe, but had an air about him that just screamed "Don't fuck with me." His hair was dark and usually slicked back so you could see his handsome face. The white, and black of his beard had grown in a bit thicker since your arrival. But his eyes, though you couldn't see them clearly right now, entranced you. They could light up in mirth or darken in anger when someone had done wrong. And his fingers, more often than not, were clutching Lucille and you could see the strength in them.

It was wrong you knew, but you had frequently found yourself wondering what was under those low slung jeans and white t-shirt. Did he have just enough chest hair to tickle your bare skin? Were his fingers strong enough to bring you to heights that you had barely been able to reach on your own but soft enough to tease gentle moans from you lips? Did he taste sweet like chocolate or musky, harsh, and all man?

Shaking your head clear of those thoughts, you turned your eyes back to the window to stare at the stars. No point in those though he has his wives to occupy his time. And his bed. Not to mention he has to run this place. But your mind couldn't help but play a multitude of scenarios, mostly involving a lot of breathless whispers on your skin and gentle touches.

You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn't even notice the man staring in your fantasies when he took a seat in front of you. The clearing of a throat brought you out of your lust induced thoughts. You blushed deeply, lowering your head. You glanced through the veil of your hair, shocked to see the room empty barring you and Negan. He had apparently confiscated the cards the men had been playing with and held them in his hand.

"I see you're adjusting well to life here." His voice was low and gravelly and so damn seductive. You finally looked up to him and nodded. "Yes, I can't thank you enough for letting me stay." His hands idly shuffled the cards but his eyes stayed on you. It felt like he was boring straight through your skull, trying to dig deeply in to your brain, in an attempt to figure you out.

"Good!" Negan was smiling at you now. It was all teeth and predatory. You honestly didn't know what to make of it. "I noted Sheila isn't in y'all's room a lot." His eyebrow quirked in askance. For a moment you wondered how he knew that, but shook it off. "No skin off my teeth. Not really much time to socialize" you replied quietly. He chuckled deeply and the shiver that ran down your spine was not from the chilly evening or fear.

It was undeniable arousal.

He was silent for a moment, still shuffling those cards. Your eyes followed his fingers as they separated, tapped, and flicked the cards back together. It was hypnotizing the way they worked seemingly without thought. "Do you play?" He asked. You returned your eyes to him and smirked. "Well, I might not be a pro, but I believe I can hold my own in some Texas Hold-em." He chuckled deep and dark in his throat. "Alrighty then." And he started dealing the cards.

"What's the bet?" You sure as hell were not willing to risk your points. You were looking forward to breakfast tomorrow. He eyed you up and down in thought before a smug smirk crossed his face. "Oh no bets sweetheart. This is… strip poker. You lose, you remove." Your eyebrows hit your hairline at the thought, but suddenly you weren't worried. You were good enough, you could win at least a few hands. Nodding your assent, you met his eyes with a fierce determination. "You're on."

After one last shuffle, he dealt you each two cards and set the deck down for a moment. You picked up your cards and schooled your features, trying not to show your disappointment at the 4 of diamonds and 6 of clubs you received. The flop better be good. "Ready?" he asked. You nodded and he flipped three cards over between you. Jack of hearts, 4 of clubs, Ace of spades. Well, I got a pair if nothing else you thought. He paused for a moment letting you take in the cards before he pulled the middle card. Queen of hearts. One more pause and then the river. 4 of spades. You sighed deeply. Three of a kind was good, but could still be beat.

"Ready to show?" Negan questioned. You bit your lip gently and nodded, turning you cards. You groaned though as his flipped his with a smirk. A 10 of hearts and King of spades. Damnit, a flush. With the jack, ace, and queen on the table, he had you beat. You stood up and pulled your foot onto the bench seat, slowly and teasingly unlacing the shoe, thankful for clean socks. You pulled the shoe off and dropped it to the floor. As you went to sit back down, you heard him tut. "Uh uh now. It's both shoes. Pairs are one piece of clothing." You raised your eyebrow at that but obliged him the other shoe before resuming you seat.

A few hands later, the only other things you had lost was your socks and belt. Negan however was down to a pair of pants and a shirt, claiming that the belt and scarf were each pieces of clothing. You had a talked a little during the previous hands, mostly inconsequential things about The Sanctuary, little bits of your lives pre-zombies. It was nice getting to know the man as a human and not just the leader of the saviors. He actually had a good sense of humor and was an excellent storyteller.

The hand you were on now was looking promising as well. 2 aces in hand, one on the table, and the river about to be turned. Your stomach was tense in anticipation as his hand went to turn the final card. When he placed it down, you let out a breath that you hoped didn't sound as shaky as it felt. Ace of spades. Holy shit, he was going to lose his shirt.

He raised his eyebrow again and you nodded. With a triumphant smile, you flipped your aces and couldn't help the burst of laughter that came from you as he turned his 2 of hearts and queen of spades over. He had absolutely nothing. "I think you lied to me. There's no fucking way you're not a pro." He said, the corner of his mouth rising into an almost smile. You shook your head chuckling. "Nope. Apparently just really luck."

Negan slapped his legs with both of his hands and rose to his feet. "Whelp, a bet is a bet." He stepped behind the bench. He reached his right hand behind his head and grabbed the collar of his shirt, swiftly pulling it up and over.

Your breath stopped as you took in his half naked form. You were right, there was just enough chest hair on him to make you want to scratch at it. He had several tattoos, most striking being the revolver on his left forearm, the skull and crossbones on his chest, and the massive cross on his right shoulder. There was also something in script on his right forearm but you couldn't quite make out what it was. His body was solid, no six pack but you could see the muscles flexing and rolling as he pulled the shirt down his arms, tossing it to the side.

You couldn't pull your eyes away from his form until he sat in front of you chuckling. "I'd say take a picture, but I don't think we have a camera anywhere round here." Negan teased. Your face flamed bright red at being caught, but you brought your eyes up to meet his. They were alight with mirth and he had that damn smirk on his face again. You held his gaze as you reached for the cards and shuffled them, ready to re-deal.

Finally tearing away from the stare that had become intense, you dealt the cards. Another good hand for you king and queen of hearts. The flop was the jack and ten of hearts and 5 of spades. You held your breath as you turned the middle. Four of clubs. One more card. You reached over, the shaking in your hands now obvious as you glanced up at your opponent. His eyes were dark and full of something you couldn't quite place. Did he want to win this hand, get you out of your shirt? You flipped the card.

Ace of hearts.

You retracted your hand and slowly turned your two cards over, not saying a word. He glanced down at them before letting out a huge guffaw. "Will you look at this shit?! You rigged them, just to get me naked didn't you? No fucking way are you that god damn lucky!" His voice was loud and full of humor. He rose back to his feet, but instead of unbuttoning his pants, he walked around the table to stand by you. You gulped heavily before looking up at him.

"Now sweetheart, there really is something I should've probably told you before we started this." He reached down taking your hand and pulled you to your feet. Standing next to him, your head came to his chin, just tall enough to not have to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. He leaned forwards, lips grazing your ear as you spoke. "I tend to go commando." Your breath hitched at the implication. He was about to be naked. Completely exposed. "You want to help me fulfill my obligation?"

Your hands were shaking as you brought them to the waistline of his pants. Negan hadn't moved from his bent position, close to you ear. You could feel gentle breaths tickling the hair on your neck. He remained utterly motionless up until your fingertips grazed his stomach. You felt his muscles tighten and his breath slightly hitched in response. Just as you grasped the button, his right hand grabbed both of yours, making you pause.

"Before you get to that…" Suddenly his left hand was in your hair, pulling your head back, placing his lips on yours. Man, definitely tastes like man. That was the last thought you had as Negan consumed you. His lips were soft and teasing yours into submission. When his tongues traced your lips, you granted his request. Your tongues tangled and your hand was released. Now he had one hand in your hair, the other was pressing on your back, bringing you closer to his body.

Your hands pressed against his chest, not in protestation, but in want to feel his skin. You traced his pectorals and skimmed your fingers lightly down his stomach. His mouth pulled away from yours, both of you breathing raggedly. "You sure wanna do that sweetheart? Once this happens, you're mine. No one else's. You will be one of my wives, you will answer to me and only me. No one will touch you. You will touch no one else. I don't share that which belongs to me." Negan's voice was low, deep, and full of an intensity that you did not want to deny.

You were still breathing heavily as you tried to absorb his words. You would belong to him? Be his wife? You studied his face, finally looking into his eyes. They were dark with need and possession. There was really only one answer to be given.

Your hand resumed its path to his waist and gently flicked the button on his jeans. "Fuckin' a right." His voice was heavy with anticipation and then his lips were back on yours. You ran your hands around his waist, knowing you should think you had just made the biggest mistake of your life, but knowing it was the complete opposite. This was where you were supposed to be.