"Rick! Look, everybody, it's Rick," Negan hoarsely shouted once he saw his favorite new boytoy. "Ah, your people are making me lose my voice doin' all this yelling."
Hungrily, Negan's eyes roved over Rick's body, checking for damage and eyeing his fill. Rick was soaked through – that couldn't just be sweat – and his clothes were clinging to ever dip and curve and hard line of his body. Negan licked his lips before he continued in a more businesslike fashion.
"Rick…how about a 'thank you'?" At Rick's bewildered look, blue eyes wide and doe-like, Negan smiled as he explained, "I mean, look, I know we started this relationship with me beating the holy shit out of your friends, and because of that, we're gonna have a rocky relationship, but I think we can get over that. After all, you belong to me, Rick. Or have you forgotten that little lesson I drilled into your ass that night in the woods?"
Rick's eyes dropped to the ground as he remembered what he and Negan did in that RV. Remembering wasn't enough for Negan, though, as he stepped forward and cooed in Rick's ear, "I made you feel so good, baby, but I also made you my bitch."
Pulling away, he quirked another smile and sweetly tucked some of Rick's curly, wet hair behind his ears. "You know, Rick. The way I see it, you haven't been a good boy for me at all. Sure, you went and fetched me some goodies – you did go fetch me something, now, didn't you?"
"Yes," Rick's voice was scratchy and he nodded, an awkward robotic movement. His face suddenly hardened as he added with more ice, "Your shit's waiting for you at the gate. Just go."
"Woah, there, Rick." Negan's eyebrows shot up his forehead in overexaggerated surprise. "Daddy is still talking and I want you to stand there and listen to me."
Brushing roughly past Rick to get his drink from the pool table, Negan murmured just low enough that only Rick could hear, "Don't think I won't beat your ass fire engine red in front of all these nice people, Rick, because I will."
Taking his time, Negan drank the rest of the scotch and Spencer's, too, since he wouldn't be finishing it anytime soon. "Now," he gasped appreciatively and started talking louder for the benefit of the other Alexandrians, "as I was fucking saying…I just bent over backwards to show you how reasonable I am. Your kid," he spun on his heel and pointed towards Rick's porch where Carl was still kneeling beside Olivia's body. "He hid in one of my trucks and machine-gunned a bunch of my men down – and I brought him home, safe and sound."
Spreading his arms, Negan walked back to Rick's side as the man stared up at his son with watery blue eyes. "And I fed him spaghetti," Negan crooned, catching some of Rick's tears on his fingertips.
Reflexively, Rick jerked away from Negan's touch, and before Negan could help it his eyes showed hurt before they blazed with his anger. "You know what else, Rick?"
Strolling over to Spencer's bleeding corpse, Negan pointed Lucille at the body. "Another one of your fucking people – well, this one is a shit-stain really." Careful not to get blood on his boots, Negan toed Spencer's face so that he was staring up at the blue sky. His eyes were already glassy. He'd turn soon. "This shit-stain wanted me to kill you, Rick, and put him in charge instead."
Lucille lifted into the air, the bullet-hole in her business-end shining in the sun. "I took him out…for you." Negan watched Rick's face, how as he raised Lucille higher, Rick just looked more crestfallen with what was to come.
What came was Negan caving in the shit-stain's skull until he, too, was just as unrecognizable as the Asian and Red from before. Blood sprayed over the crowd of watchers until they backed out of the splash-zone, some of them looking away in disgust and grief while others were transfixed in their horror. One man actually puked his guts in the grass. When Negan turned back to Rick, though, blood staining his pants and his white shirt, Rick looked like he hadn't moved an inch and he was still staring at Negan with that same morose look.
Negan hated it.
"And another one, here," Negan brusquely continued, pointing Lucille's bloody end at the Latina, "she shot Lucille, trying to kill me just now, so I gave you one less mouth to feed." Lucille twirled toward the porch to indicate the other victim. "I'm sorry about her. She was a sweet girl, but don't you worry Rick. We didn't do anything." One step forward and he hummed in Rick's ear again, "I was saving myself for you, sweetheart."
Now Rick did move, pulling away, his eyes falling shut. Negan pulled back again, too, covering up his displeasure by shaking the excess, dripping blood off Lucille. "Now, personally, I wouldn't have picked her to be the one to go, but Arat, I don't know, didn't trust her. But who I really want to find is the guy or gal that made the fucking bullet. Arat? Can you find them?"
Arat swung her gun to a slighter man, a strawberry blonde supporting some guy who was beat to hell and back. But a dark skin girl was the one to cry out, "It was me."
A wail spoke otherwise. "No, it wasn't." The guy who threw up was sniffling miserably, his mullet soaked with sweat and tears dripping off his chin. Negan recognized him from that night in the woods. "It was me. It was only me."
"You?"
"It required one spent casing, one four-holed turret reloader, powder, one funnel for the powder –"
"Shut up, I believe you." Negan heaved a sigh before taking a deeper breath and breathing it out to his Lucille. "Lucille, give me strength… I'm gonna be relieving you of your bullet-maker, Rick – that and whatever you left for me at the front gate. And however much you scavenged, it's not good enough, because you're still in a serious, serious hole after today. Let's move out."
"Wait!" Rick caught the sleeve of Negan's leather jacket, but his grip slipped loose from the shit-stain's blood. "Wait, please. We can make a deal. Please, take me instead."
"Tempting," Negan admitted and held up his hand to his men. He still held the attention of the crowd, and while he was loving the attention, what he wanted from Rick… well, hell, they could watch that, too.
Maybe.
Another day, perhaps.
"But Rick, after I just took out this shit-stain, I don't think that would be a good idea taking you home to be my fucking pet. Defeats the fucking purpose, don't you think."
"Somethin' else, then," Rick offered, blue eyes wild and desperate, but the tears were abating.
A slow smile spread across Negan's face, flashing his dimples. "You've got my fucking attention, Rick. Now, I ain't gonna lie – your kitchen is a goddamn mess, but why don't we take this inside to discuss."
Over his shoulder, Negan called, "Arat, why don't you stay here and make sure Rick and I aren't interrupted. Have Laura escort Mullet-boy to get his things. Oh, and I want my shit loaded up." With his arm around Rick's shoulders, he herded him up the porch stairs, passing Carl and Olivia's body. She wouldn't turn; Arat was a good shot.
"Kid, go collect your sister and go somewhere else."
Rising to his feet, Carl managed to ask in what could pass as a level tone of voice, "What are you gonna do with my dad?"
"Easy, kid. I'm not gonna do anything to your dad that he doesn't want." Negan hoped that was cryptic enough for Carl, but as he turned to Rick with a devilish grin, he was glad to see color returning to Rick's cheeks as he started to blush. He would prefer that blush to be elsewhere, though. To Rick, he murmured almost tenderly, "Let's get you inside, honey, you're shivering."
Docile, Rick allowed himself to be led to the kitchen table. He sat down while Negan made him a plate of spaghetti, and when Negan put the fork in his hand, he ate without further encouragement. Negan made himself comfortable at the head of the table, and he propped Lucille up in the chair opposite of Rick. The blood was probably staining the seat cushion, but the barbwire and blood was hidden from Rick's point of view from now. Negan considered that a courtesy at least.
After giving Rick a few minutes to eat, Negan finally prompted, "What are you gonna give me, Rick? And before you fucking say shit, just know that the bullet-maker is off the menu. After that little stunt, well, I don't think you deserve a bullet-maker."
"Please, just don't hurt him." Rick's fork clattered noisily on the plate as Rick reached his hand across to plead to Negan. "Please, you promised no one else. We had a deal."
Negan couldn't say he wasn't pleased with Rick so willingly touching him now, but Negan knew a honey-pot when he saw one. "I'm not gonna touch a single fucking hair in his mullet so long as he does what I fucking ask of him."
"He will," Rick earnestly promised, going so far as to lace with his fingers with Negan's.
With a smile, Negan pulled one of his hands free and grabbed the napkin, passing it to Rick. Dropping his eyes, Rick pulled his hands back as he grabbed the napkin, wiping the spaghetti sauce out of him beard, the red staining around his mouth prettily.
Watching Rick, Negan slowly asked, "Now that that's settled…tell me what you want, Rick."
There was a pause as Rick formulated his response, and Negan could practically see the cogs turning in his brain. "You can take what we found this time, but please, we can't provide any more than what we're doing now."
Humming thoughtfully, Negan picked up the napkin and found a clean spot. He pinched Rick's chin between his fingers, carefully, directing Rick's gaze back to him. Rather than answering, Negan took his time as he cleaned away the spots of spaghetti that Rick missed. Rick had such a beautiful mouth, and Negan knew exactly how it tasted, how it looked when he had Rick on his knees with those lips wrapped around Negan's dick.
By the time Negan looked back into Rick's eyes, his pupils were blown open wide and mirroring his own lust. "Alright, Rick. Now tell me again; what do you want?"
Lust warred with pride on Rick's face while Negan watched with amusement. Eventually – predictably – lust won out, and Rick flicked his tongue out over Negan's thumb until he sucked it into his mouth.
"Oh, you want my fingers, honey?"
Rick nodded around Negan's fingers in his mouth. Negan chuckled, the sound rich and genuine, and pulled his fingers loose, glistening with Rick's spit. Sitting back in his chair, Negan licked the spit away, leveling his gaze with Rick's needy one. "Tell me."
"I want your fingers."
"Good boy." Negan stood, towering over Rick as he quivering in his chair. Unlike outside, Rick was shaking now with excitement rather than fear. This was what Negan wanted. All it took was a little push. "Beg me for it, Rick."
Spine going rigid, Rick stared ahead resolutely at Lucille's handle rather than up at Negan. "Please fuck me with your fingers, Negan."
Standing next to Rick, Negan could feel the heat of his lust – and anger – coming off of him in hypnotic waves. But Negan was having his fun. "Oh, Rick, honey. You can beg me better than that. I fucking know you can. I remember." Bending over, he brushed his lips over Rick's earlobe. "Don't you remember, Rick? You're my bitch."
A shiver ran through Rick, and he quickly looked back at Negan again. There was a tremble in his lip, and his puppy dog eyes were fitting. "Please, Negan," he simpered, "please. Fuck me with your fingers."
"Hmm, much better, baby." Negan stroked his hand through Rick's messy, sodden curls affectionately and the man practically preened under his touch. "Stand up, Rick."
All too eager, Rick stood.
"Strip for me."
Rick started with his pants, pushing down the raggedy jeans and faded powder-blue-tuxedo boxers past his knees to his ankles. When he stood expectantly again, Negan raised his eyebrows, just as expectant.
"All the way."
Off came the sodden shirt. The old boots were kicked off. Rick's clothes were tossed aside into the corner of the kitchen. Last time in the RV, Negan had stripped Rick himself. He saw how pale Rick was, the old and faded scars, the sprinkling of fine hairs – how proud, hard, and needy Rick's pretty cock was, flushing and leaking from the bulbous tip. Everything about Rick was old and weathered, and Negan liked it – loved it in fact. But if he expected that to be a prediction about Rick's temperament, he couldn't be more wrong. Rick still fought him every step of the way, and Negan enjoyed the fight. This time would be no different.
"You want me, Rick?"
"Yes."
"Hm." Negan made a show of looking Rick over. Under his hard gaze, Rick's cock twitched, weeping already in his eagerness. "I don't think you deserve me, Rick."
Nervously, Rick shifted under Negan's gaze, eyes flitting about the kitchen for protection.
Directing Rick's attention back on him, Negan placed his hands on Rick's side, smoothing down until they settled comfortably on his hips. It was like soothing a horse before it could buck you off the ride as he locked eyes with Rick and talked him slow and gently. "After the shit your people did today, there still has to be punishment."
"We already –"
"No, Rick. I'm talking about you." Guiding Rick back to the table, Negan started to position him how he liked. "You see, you're the leader here, Rick. I want you to lead these people because I think you have a good head on your shoulders…and elsewhere, too." Negan tapped his fingers on Rick's pubic bone, sliding them down and curling them around Rick's shaft for a few businesslike strokes before he pulled away again, placing Rick's hand flat on the table top on either side of Rick's half-eaten plate of spaghetti. "Since you're in charge, you have to take shoulder some of the blame for when your people fuck up. It's called responsibility, sweetheart. So, you're going to be punished."
Placing his palm between Rick's shoulder blades, Negan gently pushed him down until he was bent over, his ass jutting out for Negan's viewing pleasure – and actual pleasure. As he smoothed his hands over the globes of Rick's ass, he practically heard the click as Rick realized what was about to happen. Rick ducked his head, muscles tensing under Negan's palm in preparation of what was to come.
What came was the hard crack of Negan's palm, over and over again until Rick's rear was redder than the spaghetti sauce. To Rick's credit, he was mostly silent, except towards the end when he started to gasp and cry, the tears soft and silent down his cheeks. He was so pretty when he cried.
Negan's hand was stinging when he stopped, and he was so hard in his pants that it hurt, though not as much as Rick's ass, he was sure. Rick's erection was still hard and throbbing between his legs, and he was shifting his weight from leg to leg impatiently, swinging his hips as he did it, silently begging for relief.
"You still want me, Rick?" Negan had to check.
"Yes!" Rick hissed and pushed his ass back until he was pressed flush against Negan's hips despite the sensitivity of his freshly spanked skin.
Slipping his fingers between Rick's cheeks, Negan slid his index finger in to the second knuckle on the first pass. Rick squeezed around his finger so tight like a vice, and on the second pass Negan added another finger. He fingered Rick open, curling and searching until he found his prostate. Rick whimpered and bucked back on his fingers, sweat dripping down his spine and legs already shaking. In the RV, Negan had fucked Rick on his knees until he was a mess and then made Rick finish him off in his mouth. This time, he was going to come inside Rick and really mark him as his own little bitch.
Pulling his fingers free, Negan grinned at Rick's whine of protest. "I think you're ready for me, baby. You want Daddy's cock?"
"Yes." Rick spread his legs open wider, arching his back as he leaned over further like the bitch he was.
In his own haste, Negan quickly unbuckled his belts and pushed his pants down far enough to free his hard cock. He stroked it, smoothing some lube over the shaft before he placed the tip over Rick's puckered hole. "Fuck yourself back on Daddy's cock like a good little bitch."
With a moan, Rick did exactly that, releasing all the air in his lungs. He threw his head back, eyes falling shut in bliss, mouth open wide. Negan saw the invitation and hooked his fingers inside Rick's mouth, holding it open as a hand hold. Their hips moved in tandem, Rick's knocking backwards and Negan's ruthlessly thrust forward. The sounds from their mouths and bodies were loud and obscene, and Negan couldn't stop cursing, a litany of Rick's name in between the praises and hisses.
"That's it, Rick. Such a good little bitch for Daddy. You fucking love my cock fucking you open, huh, baby? You love being my bitch? I should just take you fucking home with me, put a little collar on you and walk you around so that fucking everyone knows you're mine. Shoulda fucked you on that pool table and made everyone there watch you be my bitch. Shoulda spanked you right there until you came on that green felt. You'd fucking love that, wouldn't you, Rick, baby? My little bitch. Such a fucking good boy for Daddy. My good baby boy. My bitch. Fuck, your ass is perfect. Fuck, fuck, fuck."
As Rick neared his peak, he reached backwards and pulled his tender ass-cheeks open wider, steadily rocking his hips backwards while Negan pounded into him. Drool spilled over his bottom lip and down his throat as Negan's mouth skimmed the sides of his neck, nipping his teeth lightly over Rick's fluttering pulse point.
"No, Rick." Negan pulled his fingers free and placed Rick's hands back on the table, bowing his body over Rick's until his chest was flush against Rick's sweaty back. "You keep your hands there, bitch, like a good boy. You've been such a good boy so far. You want to come, right?"
"Yes!" Rick wailed deliriously.
"Then keep being a good boy for me, Rick," Negan panted in his ear. Negan's own end was rapidly approaching, and he was sure that he when he comes his knees were gonna give out. "You close, baby? You wanna come for Daddy?"
"Please," Rick cried out, "Please, please let me come."
"You come when I say you can come," Negan warned, and he shifted his hips so that he could hammer into Rick's prostate. Rick's wail immediately rose in pitch, his knuckles going white from how hard he was gripping the edge of the table. Negan sucked a hickey into his neck, too high to be hidden by a shirt collar, a brand of ownership. Not the only brand Rick would have today. Snaking his hand around Rick's belly, Negan grabbed his cock, jerking it furiously.
"You gonna come for me, Rick?"
"Yes, yes," he sighed, "For you."
"You my bitch, Rick?"
"I'm your bitch! I'm your bitch!"
"Then come for me, bitch."
Rick came, spilling over Negan's fist, all over his half-eaten plate of spaghetti. Negan followed shortly after, pumping Rick's ass full of his come until it was dripping down his thick, hairy thighs. Negan slipped out and collapsed back into Rick's chair while Rick's knees buckled before he fell to them on the floor. While they recovered, Negan wiped his cock clean and tucked it away, slicking back his hair again so that he looked calm and collected for his men. Rick remained on the floor until Negan helped him up and back into his seat. He was still naked, and Negan's seed would stain the cushion. Negan was pretty proud of that.
"You did a good job, Rick. Now there's just one more thing I want you to do for me."
Exhausted, Rick looked up, his eyes stinging from sweat and his ass sore. "What is it, Negan?"
Pointing at the plate, Negan smiled a shit-eating grin. "Eat up, sweetheart. Daddy made this just for you, and it has my blood, sweat, and tears in it. But you added that extra ingredient, baby. Too bad it's not Parmesan."
Rick actually blanched and looked like he was going to fight Negan about it. But Negan just raised an eyebrow and leaned backwards expectantly. With a sigh, Rick picked up his fork again and dutifully ate the rest of the spaghetti until his plate was clean.
Once again, Negan wiped away the red sauce from around Rick's pretty mouth, but this time he leaned forward and stole a deep kiss, swiping his tongue inside so he could have a taste of Rick's seed. "Mm, your breath smells like you just sucked off some lucky guy. Brings back memories."
This time Rick blushed.
Negan smiled and patted Rick's cheek affectionately. Grabbing Lucille from her spot where she had watched like the voyeur she was, Negan was halfway out the door when he stopped to blow Rick a kiss goodbye. Chuckling, he promised, "I'll see you next time, bitch."
