Chapter Six

"No," she paled at his threat to lock her away. "You can't. It's not fair." It was all so complicated.

In the most pivotal moments of her life, there had always been choices to make, a decision to call and take the consequences whether they were bad or good. Making the right moves and taking the right path was easier than she'd anticipated. There were choices when people got sick, when people got bit, when they were dying – those were the easy ones, to just put them out of their misery and protect what she had left and salvage from the wreckage. The difficulty came when the numbers got fewer, when good in people became harder to spot and easier to screw over. There were vicious killers, dangerous and deadly, who were the monsters she had come across more often, again and again and again. The ones that lurked and killed in the dead of night, those who would appear as a balm, as a friend… her nightmares resonated still. When Mallory had found roasted human bones, long cold and aged, she hadn't said a word to anyone.

Her own lines blurred too easily. There grew in her a ruthlessness, a steel cast from their first loss at the hands of a living, breathing being: children were easier pickings, she supposed, since you could hold one hostage and demand anything in exchange for empty promises. She'd made the wrong call that day. A wrong call she was still paying for, years later. But that, those choices she could see, she could understand how hunger and need and desperation to survive could drive the warmest and most loving of people to do disgusting, heinous things just for a meal. She'd done some herself.

Yes, Mallory had long drawn and re-drawn her boundaries, the lines she was willing and unwilling to cross and had – once or twice – become what she was trying desperately not to but she still had lines. The man in front of her, his demonic glint of glee, lay a fire of rage and savagery that lived in his face like it was carved into his bones. There were monsters beyond the monsters, sadism and brutality for gain and then, and only then, there was Negan. He wasn't a sadist for gain, he didn't take what he wanted in order to survive because he was already a God among scared followers. He took because he could take, because he wanted to push pain and endurance to its limits in people, break them down into beings who were rotting faster than the Biters. Mallory had seen how he could do it, before the outbreak, she'd felt his need for control and supplication and threw it off her shoulders because... because she liked it.

He knew. He knew all too fucking well how the sounds of locks and the clink of metal bars drove her to desperation, how they broke her down. Threats he made to her, never empty, were always so fucking personal. She could still taste him on her lips even as she shoved him away, her body trembling in disgust at herself more than at his actions. He would break her, he would smash her up, he would wreck her. Because he knew now, he had felt it in her for that tiny fleeting moment made of memory.

She had kissed him back and willingly so.

Negan whistled, long and low, the coldness of his eyes mitigating a smile. "Oh Princess, Princess," he still encroached her space, one fist tapping on the wall next to her head in a rhythm. "My sweet, juicy Georgia peach," he licked his lips, as if he could taste her still. "I know you're scared. There's worst things I could do, though, right?" She couldn't speak, voice stuck in her throat. "You don't know the worst I could do…. do you wanna hear it?" He positively sparked at that, bouncing on his heels. "Do you wanna see?! I could, I could just take you out to the colonies, they know how to treat me right and they're due a reminder, I think. I'll just pick some pathetic waste of resources and turn his head into fucking cheese spread. Maybe I'll make you lick Lucille clean afterwards, like a fucking lollipop. I know how eager that tongue of yours is." Negan's eyes flared again. "Would that be better than a warm bed, Mallory? Is licking blood off my Lucille preferable to Her Majesty's demands?"

"No…" she said, keeping herself from more trouble, lest he act out the threat she knew he found enticing.

Tutting, he leant back and she could think again, not surrounded so completely by his darkness. "No?" Negan shook his head, dropping his voice to a whisper she had to strain to hear. "Well ain't that a damn shame. We can save it for the next time, can't we?" Mallory felt his finger running over her stitched-up head, wincing at the stinging it produced. "Nothing you wanna say to your old pal Negan? Since we're being fucking civil."

"I am sorry for yesterday." The words felt like Lucille's barbs down her throat but she spat them out all the same despite herself. Mallory could ask him not to touch her, she could ask him to give her space but it seemed like a bad idea to even try. He knew his power over her now, through that kiss, he knew that he could break her. He would try. Let him try.

"You know what? I'm kinda believing you now. Did not think you were gonna be that easy to wear down, Mallory, I am almost disappointed in you, such a shame. I like it when you fight me, and you like it too." Her lips betrayed her as the bare corner quirked in a stiff smile for a flash of a second. "There it is. Hello firecracker. You do like standing up to me."

"No, I don't," she replied, bristling at the accusation.

"Lying little liar, pants on fire," Negan said in a sing-song voice. "That pretty head of yours might as well be my palace, Princess, come on. You can't stop yourself, can you?" He chuckled smugly. "Don't be ashamed to like what you like, how many times I gotta tell you? Revving the engine's half the fun."

"Fuck you," she muttered, though her body was still half-frozen in place. "I'm not that girl anymore. Fuck you and fuck this place."

"Fuck this place?" Looking at her for a second, Mallory saw something that would have been akin to hurt in a normal person. Negan pulled away from her and grabbed Lucille from the doorway, waving her shaft erratically. "I fucking warned you, Mallory, and there you go, trying to hurt my feelings like I ain't got none." His voice slipped into mania and he grabbed her by the scruff of her shirt, lifting her away from the wall. "You are coming with me, fucking spoiled little brat, get walking." Negan practically threw her forward, her feet catching as he did. Coffee was already staining his floor.

Mallory felt Lucille's bite in between her shoulder blades as Negan frogmarched her out. He wouldn't stop talking either, not when he grabbed a random guard, not when he pushed her forwards with Lucille, he even ran his mouth when she bled through her shirt. They came to an already open room a few doors down from his office, a frigidly cold space that contained only an un-dressed bed and an old wood desk chipped and marred by time. It still reeked of death to her, stank of bleach and blood. Forcing her inside, Negan pulled a key from guard's belt, the young woman lingering by the door with a more-than-satisfied smirk on her face. That scared her more than Negan did.

"You can't do this," Mallory protested, attempting to keep the terror from her voice at being confronted with her punishment. "You can't lock me away, you can't!"

"One fucking week, Mallory, one motherfucking week. You do what I say, when I fucking say it and then you might be in a better position to negotiate. You think I'm treating you like your Daddy would?" He spat the word, gleeful in his twisted imagination. "Then I'm grounding you until further fucking notice."

"No, no, Negan-"

"Shut the fuck up!" he thundered. "Bad girls get punished, remember? It ain't my choice of punishment, trust me, but I don't think you're quite ready enough to take it like you used to." He licked his lips lasciviously, obviously restraining himself from giving her what he wanted to. "I'll have some clothes and shit brought up to you, Princess, something to keep you warm and cosy tonight," he winked. "I think you'll make a nice next door neighbour for Amber. The walls here are thin as fuck, though..." he leant closer in, like he was divulging a great secret. "And she can get kinda loud, like you do." Negan winked. "Arat's gonna take good care of you tonight."

Mallory watched silently as he looked her up and down, as if he was remembering every second of who he had made her into with that single glance. Not another word passed his lips as he stalked back out, head trained on the ground though that smirk was unmistakable. The lock clicked in place behind him and the last thing she heard was his soft, chilling bark of a laugh. Unable to do anything else, she stood as a stone in the middle of the room, unwavering and cold.

For a few weeks, her life was a whirlwind of work and sex and Mallory's enthusiasm for both hadn't abated, though she expected it to. It had been a struggle to contain the two parts as separate entities, particularly when she would steal long lingering glimpses of him out on the field with his football team, when Negan was as messy, ruffled and sweat-dewed as he was in her bed. She didn't think anyone knew anything about their fuck-buddy status since he was far better at containing his desire for her, even when she knew it was there. He would – and did – surprise her constantly when nobody was looking at them, giving her ass a pinch or sliding past her and making sure she could feel him. Negan liked to tease.

The generally blissed-out, fucked-beyond-measure mood made work easier as well; she played for herself, put out her business cards and was glad for the freelancing work she was receiving in tandem. Mal taught disgustingly rich people how to play the pianos they'd bought for living room furniture and relished the opportunity to play real instruments. Indeed, she saw it as her duty to make sure the beautiful pianos were used and not left to gather dust and stiffen as so many people did. She even booked a gig as a private pianist for a soiree one of the rich clients was hosting; she didn't exactly know what the difference between a soiree and a party was but she had been happy to charge them a few hundred dollars for the pleasure of finding out. Her rent was secure for three whole fucking months after that one party, playing Handel and Bach for handsy old geezers smoking sweet tobacco. She was busy, busier than ever.

And so, it became inevitable, she thought, that Negan would lose interest in her.

For weeks, he'd dropped by her house two or three or four nights in a row, sleeping at hers if he happened to come by on Fridays. Mallory discovered a lot of things he allowed her to discover; that vanilla wasn't in Negan's vocabulary, that he was as unselfish a lover as they came, that he could tell what she was thinking before she'd formulated a though. One of those nights with her had been spent with Mallory sat on his face the entire time, him making her come over and over and never letting her touch him back. He'd heap praise on her relentlessly until she felt a million times lighter than air, like she was sitting on clouds. It was easy, it was fucking hot, it was completely and utterly effortless to be attracted to him, to want him night upon night in whatever way he asked for because he made it that way. Simple, raw, and honest. Until it just wasn't any of those things.

She realised suddenly and stupidly one night that she hadn't seen Negan for at least half the week, maybe more. Having cut her hours down at the school, it was getting harder and when she'd been there, he just hadn't. Negan hadn't texted or called, hadn't slipped her a dirty stick figure drawing on a post-it note in her pigeon hole – nothing. His interest in her was fading; they had drifted away so suddenly and without warning that she'd just… forgotten about it.

The next day though, that Monday night, he was there. And Jesus, he looked awful in the most beautiful way, like she'd never seen him before. Like the ruins of some granite statue knocked down and crumbled.

Negan hadn't shaved in a week by the look of it and had that pissed-off-at-the-world darkness barely simmering under the brim of his cold exterior. She'd be worried if she didn't find it so fucking attractive. Taking the initiative that night, Mallory waited until she saw he was alone in the staff room before making her move, only for him to ignore her and brush her hand off his shoulder as he walked past like she was nothing, like he hadn't been tongue-deep in her cunt the week before.

The outright rejection stung her deeper than she wanted to admit and knocked her ego in tandem, the ego he'd built a goddamn plinth for display. The bastard was under her skin and not knowing what had changed was slowly eating at her.

Even asking him what was going on would break his stupid fucking rules; no emotions, that was the deal, no complications, no mess. For the rest of the week, she quietly seethed and ruminated; night after night of nothing but apathy and silence. He didn't even look like himself; like someone was attempting a really shitty impression of him instead. Whatever had happened – whether it was her or his home life – to bring him down, she was going to find out.

"Sorry, are you Mallory?" one of his students had asked her the next day, when he was passing her in the hall. She had told her own class to pack up early so she could go get drunk on cheap beer and Prosecco at home, waiting for a call that wouldn't come. When exactly had she gotten so needy to rely on Negan for her stress release? "I just, uh, I've seen you around and wanted to talk to you," the man asked again, knocking her back into the present.

This guy was fairly normal looking, she thought, not the kind she expected from Negan's band of brothers. He was your average thirty-something divorced Dad looking to get his ego back, the same as her. Negan had to be thrown out of her system. "Yeah, that's me. Sorry, I don't know your name?"

"I'm Byron, hi," he replied. "I don't guess that you've got any spaces left for a late starter? Only I tried to sign up before but was told your books were all full. You're really popular, so…"

"Oh!" she said, brightening immediately. "Right, sure, absolutely..." she opened up her purse and pulled out a notebook, her rosters inside of it. "There's two spots I can get you in for, the Thursday class or the Wednesday," she said, her eyes darting between her book and his face.

He was… actually kind of cute once she got there; dirty blonde hair, all stuck up every which way in the back like he'd been running his fingers through it manically. He had ears that curled out at the tops and a scar on the end of his brow, the skin paler there than the rest of him. She didn't usually go for blonde guys but he made it work, some kind of California surfer dude wearing the messiest, most ripped up clothes she'd ever seen, and dark blonde scruff around his jaw.

"You do private lessons?" Byron asked softly, catching her staring. "I'd feel like I was chasing everyone else to catch up." He smiled at her and Mal felt that skip in her stomach, the one she had felt when Negan would praise her at every turn. It felt good to have that again, a tiny spark that could build into something real.

"Yeah, I do, actually, here…" she looked up and produced a scruffy business card. But her hand hovered in the air as he took the piece of card, Mallory's eyes fixated on a person watching them from afar, her skin prickling on the back of her neck. He wouldn't look away.

He was just there, leaning on the wall at the end of the hall without a care in the world. Negan cut a dark contrast, black t-shirt and combat jeans with heavy boots, unmoving and blank next to Byron's golden warmth, her new student's face animated and lively, engaging and friendly. She hadn't seen Negan smile with any warmth for days. Would he consider her talking to Byron as breaking his stupid motherfucking rules? She was allowed friends, he'd never stipulated against that and it was business. Just business.

Not knowing whether it was a reaction that she wanted or just to feel desired again, she couldn't say. Mallory couldn't put her hand up to why she did what she did, mostly because she feared what the real answer would be when she got it.

"Wait, sorry," she said a second later, her mind racing. "I think that's an old number, can I give you my new one?"

"Yeah go for it," Byron replied in kind. "My little girl's gonna go crazy, if I get any good. You teach kids too? She's asking about lessons."

"Definitely, you can bring her down any time you like." Mal found a pen and took his hand in hers, writing her phone number on the top of it swiftly and smoothly, her heart thudding in her chest as she did so. "How old is she, your daughter?"

"She's seven, her name's Alanis," he said, glancing at the number with a smile.

Mallory beamed and saw Negan behind Byron, stalking towards them with his hands buried in his pockets. If she didn't know him, she'd not spare him a second thought. But she did know him and he looked, if anything, pissed the fuck off.

"Bet you were a big Alanis Morissette fan in the 90s huh?" she shone brighter, her imminent victory tasting sweet, if still untenable. "'Jagged Little Pill' was her best album even if she didn't know the definition of ironic."

"That was a great album," Byron chuckled at her kindly, his warmth exuding. It had been a long time since a guy was genuinely sweet to her. "You'll have to teach me some of sheet music to show my daughter, she'll go nuts." He was a nice guy, she thought. It was a shame what Negan was going to do to him if he actually tried to call her. Woe betide the man if he tried to kiss her. God that kind of power was intoxicating.

As he approached them, Mallory licked her bottom lip at Byron, reaching out and squeezing his arm in an obvious ploy of a gesture. She could hear Negan's mind from here, all his attention focussed on where she held Byron's arm. "No problem," she grinned back at her new friend, catching Negan's eye as he stormed past them and into his classroom, his face a picture of jealous wrath. "I'd love to show her. Come by next week's classes, huh? I'm sure I can squeeze you in," she batted her eyelashes coquettishly. "I don't mind a little late night studying if you're-"

"Hey Parker!" Negan called from inside his room, leaning through the door as he held onto the jamb. "You trying to hit on the fucking piano girl? Wouldn't bother man," he said, the smirk hiding thinly veiled contempt. "She's not really into what you're offering, if you get me. She's more interested in taking a lick at the cute little blondie down the hall from what I hear, ain't you, Princess? She must like short skirts and fake tits."

"Oh, fuck off Negan, go polish your ping pong balls," she bit back instantly, reddening at the cheeks in embarrassment at his crudeness, making her look like an idiot. He had to manipulate people for fun. The sick, sadistic bastard had done it now.

Mal looked back to Byron, who glanced at her awkwardly as if the air had been let out of him. "So, uh, I'll call you sometime next week, maybe. Nice to meet you, Mallory."

She was left standing there in the hall, wrung out and alone, as the man practically sprinted away from her, his head hung low and shoulders slumped. Mallory looked back at Negan, dumbfounded at how he'd turned it around on her so easily.

"I'd close your mouth if I were you," Negan said coolly, definitely sounding like he didn't give a fuck. "Before someone stuffs something inside it and you choke."

Waiting for Byron to move out of sight, Mallory lunged forward and pushed Negan backwards into his own classroom viciously, sick of the sight of him, sick of his quick mind, sick of him walking around like he owned her and then not giving a damn until she had a chance at someone else, someone better.

"You're a piece of work, you know that, right?" Mal kicked the door to his classroom shut behind her, nostrils flaring. "Two fucking weeks, two motherfucking weeks and you haven't even looked at me and suddenly you're what, scaring guys off me again?"

"It's been a week and a half, and don't pretend that little masterpiece theatre out there wasn't for my benefit," he replied, sitting on the corner of his desk nonchalantly. "You broke the fucking rules doing that, you know it as well as I do; you fucking broke the fucking rule. No other men. You agreed to it, so you got no leg to stand on here."

"I was only talking to the guy!" She protested, gesturing angrily. "I finally get a goddamn break, get some better paid work than this piece of crap job and find a sweet guy to flirt with and you're so fucking jealous that-'

"Jealous?" Negan interrupted. "You think I'm jealous of that asshole? Jealous of anything? No, no, no, I ain't fucking jealous, I'm protecting what's mine. You want to keep doing this, you don't go dropping your panties for every guy you see. Like I said," he said, getting as angry as she felt. "Your pussy comes for me and me only, Princess."

"Then why haven't I seen you in two weeks?!" she exclaimed.

"Week and a half!" he protested back.

"Two weeks, Negan!" She said, folding her arms over her chest. "Used to be every night, right? Three or four at the least and then you cut me off cold, even told me to get a fucking grip when I tried to come on to you. So, what's the deal, here? You don't want me anymore? You trying to avoid the break-up speech? Because I didn't take you as a guy without balls."

He breathed heavily and there was his true, violent anger simmering under the surface, something darker that she had somehow not seen before.

"You can come over here and feel how hard my dick is right now and then try and tell me I don't want to fuck your brains out," his hands gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white. "What you don't do is tell me what I want; more specifically, what I want from you."

"What do you want, then?" She licked her lips again, trying not to let her eyes flicker down to his crotch and see if it was bull. "Because I sure as shit don't know anymore. I don't like being treated like I'm nothing, Negan."

Catching him glancing out the window of his classroom door before that heated gaze landed on her, Mallory squirmed. "Who I am doesn't fucking matter, does it? All you gotta know is what I'm not. I'm not going to hurt you, I am not forcing you do to anything here. No bullshit, Mal, I know there's something you're feeling right now and I can't fucking handle it. Not now, not ever, and I put my hand up to that." He raised both palms for a moment before they landed back on his knees. "So, I left you alone for a bit, so what? Did I fuck you so good that you can't even go a week and a half without having my dick inside you?"

Mallory swallowed thickly at the lump in her throat, her mouth suddenly dry. "Yes," she admitted begrudgingly, through gritted teeth. "You arrogant asshole, yes, yeah you did fuck me so damn good that it's not the same when I'm trying it on my own." Her jaw ticked in frustration. "You got me. Whatever it is that's making you stay away from me, whatever idea you've concocted in your head about me, just forget it – I just want to get fucked. You're driving me insane."

Negan's eyes flared. "Tell you a secret, Princess? The shit I got going on in my head right now, the way I want to fuck you?" He shook his head and shifted his hips. "You sure you like it that way? Cos right now, I don't want to pour my bleeding heart all over your sweet, fake good girl act. I want the real Mallory, the one who's flirting with other men to get my attention, to get me to punish her. She's the one I wanna fuck into my desk right now. I'm not gonna stop, and I'm not gonna be gentle. I'll rip you apart at the seams until you break. I don't think you can do it, Princess."

He looked so on edge, a vein in his arm pulsing rhythmically in beats. Those hands were clenched in barely concealed frustration, whether that was because of her or not, she wasn't sure. Negan was a man in need, though, that much became clear, avoiding her because he thought he was going to tear her in half with even a soft touch. Negan wanted that kind of cathartic release, needed it more than she did, to truly let go of whatever it was in his head and take control of her and her body.

Quietly, Mallory went over to his door and pulled the shutter down over the glass pane before turning the flimsy lock. She gave the handle a good wiggle, making sure it was secure enough from outside intrusion. After allowing herself be nervous about sex for the first time since her first time, Mal turned and looked at him with a serious face. He had laid down a gauntlet she wanted to pick up and shove back at him. "So, is there a safe word or do you wanna use the traffic light system?"

Eyes catching the light of flames, he sprang from his position on the desk and instantly stalked towards her in giant, assured strides like a starved wild animal. "Traffic lights. Can you be quiet?"

"Probably not…" she admitted, reaching for his belt buckle and unclasping it slowly, threading the cracked leather through the loops of his pants. "But then I thought you were going to stuff something in my mouth anyway. Not like anyone's around to hear now." Need for him battled with her stubbornness to take it lying down.

When he cradled her head, threading his thick fingers through her hair and tugging her up, she wanted desperately to kiss him again. "Then snap your fingers if you want me to stop," he groaned, looking like he was about to snap too. "We all settled here? Because my dick could cut fucking glass right now."

Considering her options, or at least faking it, Mal gave his belt one sharp tug until it was free. "I'm good with that scenario. Besides, you could always use this thing to keep me quiet," she said, her head still captivated of him fucking her mouth. "Gonna have to hold my hands back though. Not sure I can resist touching you for much longer."

Negan groaned audibly, hauling her closer to him with clasping, greedy hands. "First thing tomorrow, I'm finding a second belt to wear. Versatile little fuckers. I could use them in so many ways..."

Aching and needy, Mallory swallowed thickly as he got closer and closer to kissing her, a tantalising thirst she was desperate to quench. "Does your imagination never stop?"

"Not when it comes to you," he admitted, dropping his hands away from her and taking the belt instead. In a flash, he had spun her around and tied her hands behind her back roughly, yanking them to the small of her back until she couldn't do much more than wiggle her fingers. "That better?" he asked. Mal stole a glimpse of him over her shoulder admiring his handiwork, eyes fixated on her ass.

Her trapped hands hit Negan's crotch as he rubbed against her from behind, tucking her hair away frantically from her shoulder, getting as much of her skin exposed as he could. Mal's insides stirred at the feel of how hard and warm he was even through his pants and her skirt. "Oh God, you weren't lying," she groaned as he wrapped his arms around her torso, trapping her to his chest. Negan began to grope her breasts, tearing crazily at her button-down blouse until he could get under the cheap fabric, the flimsy seams tearing around her arm audibly. "Hey, I liked that blouse!"

"You can afford a replacement," he said huskily into her ear, his voice chillingly erratic. "Unless you want me to make you go pick up all those buttons one by one before I fuck you?"

"No…" Mallory hummed, feeling his hot breath skip across her neck and shoulder, the sensation making her skin tingle. It was amazing how easily she had forgotten what he'd said and done when she felt his cock on her ass and his hot breath on her milky pale skin. There was nothing in her head except a cloud of lust, kept alive by him resolutely refusing her any control.

The grab he made at her throat so suddenly and tight that she nearly squealed. His palm squeezed her just enough to restrict her moan of desire and fear, Negan pulling her back against his body with an arm tight as a rope around her waist that anchored her in place. "Don't think I forgot how many rules you broke. You're gonna make it up to me tenfold before I let you come."

Without mercy, Negan sunk his teeth into her neck and sucked hard, shaking by the throat slightly as she jerked in pain and pleasure. Just as her thighs started to ache, he let the pressure off the column of her tender neck and licked a hot pattern over the deep bruise he had marked her with. She felt her body jerk at the sensations, her blood rushing as the onslaught stopped as soon as it had begun. "Get on your fucking knees," he ordered, reducing her legs as something akin to jelly. "Gonna stuff that fucking beautiful little mouth full…"

Every part of her aching in pain and desire, Mallory automatically dropped to the cold floor, turning to look at him as she did. He looked even taller from her perspective on her knees, God-like in his composure; her lack of it seemed amplified. Lips watering as he pulled his cock free of his loosened pants, Mallory took no preamble and made no move to struggle as he tapped on her swollen lips with his cock.

He felt hotter and heavier in her mouth than she imagined, her lips stretching to accommodate him when he finally slid into her awaiting mouth. Mallory couldn't help but groan at the feeling, not when he hadn't let her do this to him much though she didn't know why when he was looking down at her like that. With one hand winding itself around her fiery red hair, he didn't give her time to get comfy and instead thrust shallowly into her willing, eager throat until she had to make herself relax and let him take over. His grunts were guttural, each swipe of her lips and tongue made him keen over and over. He fucked her mouth, taking his pleasure before hers, taking all that he could get. Even her eyes watered at the sight of him so crazed; Mallory would have given anything to climb into his mind. Not for nought though, there was more than a dull ache and rush of wetness between her thighs and she had to press them together for relief from the throbbing.

Sliding his cock out, she panted for breath in great gulps, licking her swelling, damp lips. Waiting wasn't tolerable, she had to get another taste and licked a hot, eager line up his shaft with her tongue, wanting to see him completely lose his mind. Mallory slid her eyes closed and sucked at his cock, moving her tongue in soft circles around the tip to drive him to the edge quickly.

Negan practically ripped her mouth off him and wrangled her hair roughly around a tight fist. "Oh no, no, you don't get off that fucking easily, Mallory, don't you think I don't know what you want a goddamn taste of. Greedy girl." He tsk-ed at her, yanking her up from her supine position on the floor and throwing her away. "You can't have it til you earned it, that's the goddamned game."

"How?" she asked croakily, stumbling a little as her feet hit the linoleum. "Please, I just want you, Negan, that's all. Fuck me."

Voice laced with malice and lust in equal measure, the restraint he'd always shown her was waning thin underneath the veneer. He remained still, rooted in place and resolute, not touching a single part of her. "Bend over that fucking desk and pray to God I take it easy on you."

Mallory jerked forwards as he pushed at her, manhandling her roughly until she was bent over the desk. He made quick work of her skirt, jerking the tight material up to her waist in an eagerness he'd not shown. "Negan!" she grunted as her chest hit the wood veneer. Knowing full well he'd see how wet her panties had become already, she prepared herself for his reaction. Knowing him, there was only one option…

"Holy fucking shitballs, Princess!" he exclaimed in rapid, avid glee from behind her. "You are fucking dripping and I haven't even touched your pretty little pussy yet. Oh, man, you really are greedy tonight, aren't you? It's taking all I got not to suck you bone dry. You want my dick, sweet peach? Want me to fuck you?"

"Yes!" she wailed, annoyed. Just as she thought he was going to expose her to the air, instead he yanked her underwear up so sharply that it pressed on her swollen clit. "JESUS!" she cried out, face sinking to the desk as her body keened. "Just fuck me already, it hurts..." Not being able to see him was the worst of it though; she longed to see his face as he looked at her aching body, dripping in lust for him all over the desk he'd gone on and on about. "Fuck me, you know you want to."

It was infuriating how calm he sounded. "Think you'll find I said you gotta earn my dick," he replied, leaving her underwear bunched and rippled close to her cunt, just as torture. "You keep your hands where they are and take your punishment, and I'll make sure my sweet peach gets to come."

Confused for a moment, it wasn't until he began to untie her hands that she knew what he wanted; he needed the belt for a more viscerally painful purpose. Her stomach twirled in excitement and nervousness, knowing that she could put a stop to it if she wanted to, that he would back away and rub her aching shoulders and make her come. But Mallory was nothing if not stubborn and knew she could take his hits, make him proud of the pain and pleasure she could stand to get his cock inside her.

"Give me a colour, Mallory," he said a little more evenly still, trailing a loop of soft, old leather across her ass. Her hands felt the relief of not being bound but – God how she longed to touch him, to rip her underwear off and sink fingers inside herself or, better, ride him until she came.

"Green," she replied after a moment of thought, shifting her hips to a better position. Her hands were still sitting at the small of her back like they hadn't even been untied.

"That's my girl," Negan said. "Five for my Princess, okay? Count 'em out nice and loud." His voice sounded more broken and she wondered whether his look was cold or full of fire, whether he really wanted to hurt her or whether he wanted to pinken her skin, make a mark to match the bite on her shoulder. Not knowing which Negan was swatting her ass with a belt was killing her softly.

Mallory waited for a hit, even a trail of the belt along her skin. The silence consumed them and the room into one moment, her body veering on overdrive. He made her wait for it. And wait.

The sting was unexpectedly sharp as it landed across the thick part of her ass cheek. She cried out, feeling another rush of wetness soaking her pale pink underwear. "One…" Mal panted as she called out the number, turning her cheek to press against the cool wood of his desk.

"Taking it like a fucking champ," Negan said proudly, running his calloused fingers over where he'd hit her. "You're fucking beautiful when you clench like that, Mallory. Do it again."

"T..two!" she called as he hit her, a little harder, a little more vicious, and she had to fist her sharp nails into her palm to keep from screaming. She gasped when he dealt another blow, harder still as her thighs and legs ached and burned. Her voice waivered when she called out the number. "Three!"

Negan's lips and hands descended on her reddened ass, soothing the burn almost as instantly as he created it. His fingers edged at the sodden fabric between the lips of her cunt, making her cry out and mewl in pleasure, sobbing her pain at the touch that wasn't a touch. "You have no fucking idea, I never dreamed…" he whispered into the red-hot skin on her cheek, just barely audible to her. "Two more, Princess, two more nice smacks for me. You can do it, you're my fucking warrior."

Mal steeled herself this time, emboldened by his words. The bite of the leather struck her even harder and she couldn't help but cry out in sheer pain, her body jerking forward, rippling up her spine. "Agh, Negan! Four!" She sobbed again, pussy twitching softly.

"Shhh, shhh…" he soothed again, pressing his crotch into her thigh, she supposed for his own relief as much as hers. It did nothing to stem her deep need to be filled, it did nothing but give her will another test, another poke to keep going. "I'm gonna end up coming over your ass if you say my name like that again. Colour?"

"Oh God, green, so fucking green." She groaned and sagged a little, mouth dry.

"One more, I promise, fucking promise. That's it." Instead of the smack she was expecting, he unceremoniously yanked her right leg up until her knee rested on his desk, displayed for his pleasure. "My fucking Queen…" he groaned behind her, spreading her as wide as her hips could stretch.

With a loop of excitement settling in her gut, Mallory realised exactly where he wanted to place the last hit.

A flash of a second later and she felt her whole body convulse into spasms, jerking wildly as he smacked that damn belt over her clothed cunt, the wet cotton hitting the leather and grazing her clothed clit. She bit back a scream as pain and pleasure flooded her from spine to toes, back arching, wetness spreading down her trembling thighs. "Fuck…five..." she panted, breathing in oxygen like she was dying.

Negan didn't say a damn word to her. There was a clatter as he dropped the belt on the floor and ripped her underwear off, the fabric in pieces. He thrust his cock deep into her tight, hot pussy, ruthless and unrelenting. "Mallory," he groaned, fucking her roughly, pulling her arms back enough to sting her joints. He was harder than she'd felt before, his cock stretching her body to new limits, to edges of pleasure and pain. "Never… so fucking gorgeous…" he stuttered. "Fuck!"

Gasping as he fucked her, deep and hard and remorseless as he had sworn he would be. This was what she'd been missing, what she needed, his cock buried deep inside her, wrenching every bit of searing sweet pleasures from her like no other person ever had. "Yes…" she managed to groan out, her pussy still clenching and unclenching from the hit of his belt, on a painfully thin edge, waiting to be toppled. "Please, please, Negan…"

"Fucking come, come…" he cried out himself, pounding her hard enough into the desk so it wiggled in place. The filthy slaps of skin on wet skin echoed as her body bounced.

Blood rushed, coursing in her veins as she came around him, clamping in the tightest of squeezes around his steely hard cock. Her wetness gushed and she cried out again and again, her body convulsing in overdue sensation of wrought iron heat. Negan wrung her body dry as he nearly fucked her through the cheap desk.

Roaring behind her, he pounded into her harder and harder, punishingly fierce with his thrusts until she felt him spill inside her, coating her cunt in his come as he called out her name. He stayed buried inside her, pressing grateful, hot kisses to her sore spots, her skin tingling. Leaning over her, he thrust shallowly until he slumped on top of her, completely spent inside her.

"Shitting fuck…" he said, sounding as exhausted as she felt. He released her hands from the small of her back and Mallory sagged boneless onto the desk. She could still feel him inside her, her cunt giving tiny fluttering squeezes. "That's fucking perfect," he muttered, stroking her arms softly, the feeling coming back into them as she stretched out her limbs.

There wasn't much for Mallory to do but lie there until the feeling came back, pins and needles prickling when it did. As Negan pulled out of her and zipped himself back up, she could feel his come dripping a little out of her. "Ugh," she said, whimpering slightly as she turned her head to look at him finally. "Can't move."

"Good. Don't." His voice sounded tired but almost as dark. Obediently, she stayed in place and heard a very familiar shuttering click. "That is one for the old spank bank. Thank you, Princess, your contribution is going right up the top of my favourites list."

Getting up on her forearms, she let her prone leg slip back down as she turned around to lie flat on his desk. That was enough moving. "Did you just take a picture of me on your phone?"

"Makes the memories last longer, don't it?" He replied, stealing a glance down at his phone. "You really are fucking beautiful with your pussy all full of my come like that. I am never deleting that shot."

Arguing – even if she had the energy for it – was futile with Negan and his desire to see her like that. "Can you help me up at least?"

"Hmm?" he replied distractedly. "Oh sure, here," he muttered, pocketing his phone gleefully. She didn't expect him to scoop her up into his waiting arms but he did just that, grinning lasciviously at the sight of her. Mallory sunk into his arms, not thinking too hard about the consequences or the danger of what they'd just done. He didn't look anywhere near as fucked out as she did, his skin a little shiny from exertion and hair barely mussed. Mal was a wreck. She sagged into his chest, still captured in his strong arms. Negan perched himself on his desk with a pained groan, settling her on his lap. He had to be just as tired beneath the surface, she thought as he tried to tug her clothes back into place. Mal could tell that his heart wasn't in it. "Sorry I ruined all your nice clothes. I should have made you strip for me. This shirt is beyond fucking repair."

"Worth it," she replied quietly, watching him with intent. "I gotta get home looking like this, though. Maybe nobody will see though it's my fucking luck some cop pulls me over."

"You can borrow my jacket, Princess." He said, idly playing with her hair and kissing her neck tenderly like he refused to stop touching her. "We're going back to your place tonight so I can make the last two weeks up to you. Tit for tat, as the fucking saying goes."

Her face warming at his attention, she quietly leaned up and captured his tender lips in a grateful kiss, one hand on the back of his head. Any showing of sincere care was the sweetest of gestures from Negan. "You don't have to do that. I was the idiot."

"And I was an ass," he said, pressing another hot kiss to her neck in supplication. "I keep my fucking promises and I promised to keep you satisfied. You haven't been satisfied, therefore I fucked up. And I am going to make it up to you, no fucking arguments. What do you need me to do to make it better, Mallory?" He certainly sounded sincere.

The offer was enticing and she figured this was his way of showing her he cared after the pain and domination; her ass was still sore and pink, her thighs and arms aching from being stretched to their limit, her bite mark stinging hot. "I want a shower. And I want to sit on your face again, I liked that. I missed that," she grinned lazily, her fingers tangling up in his hair.

Negan laughed again and she could see tension falling out of him, melting a winter to spring. "Sounds like my kind of Heaven, spending all night between those sweet milky thighs…" he kissed her again. "I hope you're okay with me coming inside you. I couldn't think about stopping…" the question sounded important to him but he still licked his lips, like the idea of it was turning him on all over again.

Not wanting to worry him, Mal nodded softly and smiled in reply. "It's okay. I kind of… liked it. I discover a lot of things with you."

Negan's arms around her tightened almost imperceptibly, a whole new world of sexual desire opening for them both. "You drive home, Princess, I'll follow you. In for a penny, in for a pound."

He had kept his promise and more besides, wrapping her in his leather jacket lest anyone caught a glimpse at the mess he'd made. Mallory felt something, though, a spark of something inside her that she would ignore again and again in favour of his touch, in favour of his attention to her desire. She wasn't sure how it had come to be that a brutal man would be so tender, so caring and concerned with what he had done to make her come like that.

As she drove back to her apartment in her clapped-out car, she found herself glancing in her mirrors every few moments to check that it wasn't a fantasy, her mind completely encompassed on Negan. She'd had intense, passionate relationships but none compared to their chemistry. One spark ignited another and another between the two until they flamed. Her fingers twitched on the steering wheel as she drove into the dark of night with her toxic lover trailing not-so-far behind her. Unable to guess what was in his mind, not even knowing his real life made her want him all the more.

When she spent all night with his tongue licking every thread of pleasure he could from her, that was when she felt most alive. Mallory would thread her fingers into his thick hair and became exactly as he called her; the fucking Queen. She couldn't imagine ever tiring of him, despite the arms-length he kept her at. He could dangle her there forever as far as she was concerned; even a taste of something as sweet as Negan would be worth the burns from his flames.

Freezing cold in the middle of the night with only scant blankets around her to keep her warm in her 'room', Mallory shivered and shuddered. Wiping angry tears off her cheeks as her head refused to stop turning around and around the shittiness of her life; of Negan, of the torture and hope he punished and tortured her with in tandem. It might have been a hopeless endeavour to worm her way into his good graces by toeing the line – it was more than apparent that she couldn't bite her tongue at him.

Keeping another promise, he had sent a random person with some things for her, items that were necessities before the apocalypse; clothes and hot food, bed sheets and some soap and toothpaste. Mallory would be damned if she took any of the so-called gifts. They were little more than a way to keep her at his mercy for scraps of warmth, for meals he forced on her. Stubbornness did nothing to stop the hunger in her gut or the cold of her hands from driving her insane but they were hers; her pain wasn't his property on lay-away.

It wasn't until she heard the other part of her mental torture begin though that she remembered his cruel taunt.

Horribly familiar groans and creaks sounded, his voice just inaudible enough for her to wonder what sweet nothings he told his wife as he screwed her into a bed. It didn't do much for her pride that when he groaned in pleasure, she pressed a cold hand between her thighs. Her pussy was slick and wet, body betraying her mind and heart. She couldn't stop herself as she felt his hand on her throat in her memory, his beautiful destruction of her body. Her fingers slid over herself as he laughed from behind the wall; he would know what she was doing. He always knew.

Mallory cried her gasps of sordid pleasure into her soft pillow, crying as she got herself off to the sound of him fucking another woman. She despised the way her thighs quaked at hearing his laughter and the timbre of his voice. Her tongue practically tasted the salty bitterness of him a million times over. Mal refused to let him take her own body away from her, to take her autonomy and make her his own; she'd never give that up. Not again.

Never again.

The noises stopped long after she gave up her own orgasm, forcing her hand away from her body before she could come. Mal broke down in silent tears of anger and frustration that streaked hotly down her red cheeks. She couldn't face walls and locks and bars, couldn't face the loneliness of being away from human hearts beating and Negan had done both at the same time and made sure she knew what she was missing out on. Loudly. He wasn't wrong about his wife being loud in bed.

Long after the noises of their sex stopped, in the black of the night, Mallory rose from the ashes of her broken spirit. She washed her face in the tiny washroom, the moon as the only source of light to see her own face by in a rusted mirror. She soothed her cheeks and wiped the taste of him out of her mouth, spitting it out with gusto.

Her mind poked at her, her fingers slipping into the back pocket of her pants, reaching for the last piece of her sanity. Peter had been kind to save the picture for her, she realised, though he had no conception of what it truly meant to her. The black and white waves of her first – and only – sonogram soothed her as she looked down at the worn-out ultrasound photo. There was no longer any deep desire within her to see that child's imagined face; the need for her unborn baby to be returned to her had long, long past. Instead, its picture remained on her as a victory now, the only thing she had left to dangle over Negan's head just before the executioner's sword cleaved it off.

One day, she'd tell him what he'd abandoned to rot away, but it wouldn't be before she was ready. Mallory wanted it to eat away at him like nothing ever would so that finally – blessedly – she would be free.

A/N: Thank you for reading. A review or comment is much appreciated (x-posted on AO3)