Not sure why my page breaks haven't been showing up. (Sorry for the choppiness of the past few chapters). Thanks again to all my readers! Hope you guys enjoy this one?

Daryl and Negan walked in silence.

They made a pit stop so Daryl could grab his crossbar from his own porch then headed over to number 45.

"You should have everything you need in there," he said as they climbed the porch stairs. "The houses all came well stocked. The owners seemed to have left in a hurry." Unlocking the door, he grabbed Negan's arm before he walked inside. "You try anything
funny tonight and I'll put an arrow straight through your heart, ya hear me?"

Negan smiled at him- that cocky grin that was equal parts charming and infuriating at the same time. "Good ol southern hospitality, huh? Sweet dreams to you, too, redneck."

He walked inside and shut the door behind him, turning the lock. He didn't like that Daryl had a key and anyone could come in and ambush him while he was asleep. But then he realized the back door and windows were unguarded exit points, so they were actually
on equal footing. He had no intention of leaving the house anyway. He was outnumbered and unarmed and he just wanted to get a good night's sleep.

He walked through the living room into the kitchen with its granite island and stainless steel appliances. He ran a hand over the large stove and a memory came to him, unbidden, of he and Sarah cooking breakfast together every Sunday morning. She would
stand on a chair at the counter by his side, his little apprentice. He used to love to cook back in the day. Omelets and pasta sauce were his specialties.

He opened the fridge and found a pitcher of water. Grabbing a clean glass from the dishdrain by the sink, he poured himself some and drank greedily. He was starving too, and found some soup in the pantry.

God, he was so sick of soup.

He made his way upstairs after eating, peeking into doorways until he found the master bathroom. The house was beautiful and modern with every possible amenity. Usually it took a hell of a lot to impress him but he was fucking impressed. He couldn't get
over the luxury. He thought his colonel's house was a mansion. It was nothing compared to these units. He wondered how many were left unoccupied but then reprimanded himself for even entertaining the thought.

After a quick shower with state of the art massage jets, he put his jeans on and made his way back downstairs. He had seen some books on the built-in shelves in the living room and figured he'd read a bit because he was too wired to sleep yet.

He scanned the authors and titles and smiled to himself.

Stephen King, James Patterson and John Grisham.

A nice change from the classics that bogged down his shelves at home.

He chose a Stephen King he had never read and walked to the window. Daryl was sitting on the porch swing staring out into the street and smoking a cigarette. He pulled the curtains closed, settled on the couch and turned on the table lamp.

Then he lost himself in the genius fiction of Stephen King.

Carol opened the door and the first thing she noticed was the tears in Fiona's eyes.

"He didn't take it so well?"

"I guess you can say that. We're finished."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Fiona dropped her backpack on the floor.

Carol looked like she wanted to say more but then decided against it. "I left some casserole in the oven. You've got to be starving. And take the guest room at the top of the stairs. I'm going to Tobin's for the night. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. I'm actually craving a little alone time."

"Well, enjoy. Help yourself to whatever."

"Thanks again for this. It's only temporary."

"It can be for however long you need."

When she left, Fiona sat down wearily at the kitchen counter and devoured a piece of the casserole. It was delicious. Then she went upstairs, showered and brushed her teeth.

She got into bed but couldn't sleep.

Negan was just a few houses away and she was dying to see him. She wanted to talk to him, to see him smile that dimpled smile just for her. She missed their conversations. She missed their friendship.

Friendship, Fiona? Really? The voice in her head sneered.

Well it was definitely more than an acquaintance.

He had saved her life. And killed for her.

Acquaintances didn't take such risks.

She began to wrack her brain for ways she could possibly get inside that house as her need to see him began to intensify tenfold. Daryl would not fall asleep on his watch so that made the front door out of the question. Besides, she didn't have a key
anyway. Windows were probably all locked as well as the back door.

The back door!

She sprung up in bed.

Not too long ago, she remembered Carl telling her that the back doors of most units had locks that could easily be picked. When he and Enid wanted some alone time, they would hang out in one of the empty houses. Doing what, Fiona didn't want to think
about, for he wasn't even fifteen yet, but he had said bobby pins were the best tool.

Changing her clothes, she rummaged through Carol's bathroom and finally found two skinny hair pins which should do the trick. Then she left out the back door.

It had started to rain, which gave her the advantage because no one was out and about, but she kept to the shadows and bushes anyway, hurrying from one backyard to the next. She finally crossed the street at the far end of the complex and then doubled
back, still staying to the backyards, counting until she reached what she hoped was number 45. She could smell Daryl's cigarette smoke coming from around the front so she knew she was in the right place.

She quietly moved to the back door and pulled the hairpins out of her pocket. The kitchen was dark, no light coming from inside. The lock wouldn't budge after a few attempts and she cursed under her breath, both at Carl and herself. Rain was running down
her face and she pushed her hair out of her eyes in frustration. Trying a different angle, she refused to give up. Her fingers kept slipping because the pins were slick and she dropped one in her haste. Cursing again, she got to her knees and
felt around blindly in the dark because she hadn't brought a flashlight along. Finally, her fingers closed in around it and she stood up and tried again. She wanted to cry out in relief when she felt the lock give and turn.

She tiptoed inside and closed the door quietly, turning the lock back into place. She squeezed the ends of her hair in the sink to remove all the excess water and ran a hand through her wet locks to tame them.

Heart pounding, she made her way quietly down the hall to the living room where she saw a light burning dimly.

She paused in the doorway when she saw him and her heart skipped a beat then took off at breakneck speed. He was sitting on the couch, glasses on. His head was down and he was reading. He was shirtless, and this was the first time she saw
him half-naked.

It was a beautiful sight.

His chest was broad, muscles chiseled and decorated with a spattering of tattoos of different shapes and sizes.

He was the sexiest nerd she had ever seen.

Negan was slowly fading, his eyelids growing heavy. He rested his head back against the couch and yawned. He needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be another long day. Especially if he had to drive back to the Sanctuary for more supples and
try to convince an emotional Stella that Bryson was doing okay.

He rubbed a hand over his face and lifted his weary head off the couch. When he reopened his eyes, he thought he was hallucinating. Fiona was standing there in the doorway, a mere fifteen feet away. She was drenched from the rain, her hair hanging in
wet waves over her shoulders and she was watching him with the most intense look in her eyes.

His jaw slackened and he couldn't seem to find the right words to ask what the hell she was doing there or how she had gotten inside. In mere seconds, his fatigue faded like magic and suddenly every nerve in his body was awake and humming.

"Hi." It was all he could manage to say.

"Hey." Fiona leaned her shoulder against the wall suddenly feeling a bit self conscious. He didn't seem as excited to see her as she had expected. He looked tired, too. Maybe this was a bad idea all around.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Thought maybe you'd want some company."

His lips curled up in a slow, satisfied grin, and when she saw those dimples appear, she realized she was just being silly. Of course he wanted to see her.

"I'd love some, gorgeous," he said in that deep husky voice that always seemed to affect her.

She closed the distance between them and without hesitation, climbed onto his lap, straddling him. She linked her hands behind his neck and lowered her mouth to his.

Then she kissed him.

Hungrily, desperately, as if she had been fasting for days.

It had been more than a week actually. Ten days since he had dropped her off at Alexandria and ten days she hadn't stopped thinking about him.

She wanted him with a physical hunger that was greater than anything her body had ever felt before. Whether it was right or wrong, or the worst decision she could possibly make, she didn't care. She was here and there was no turning back now.

Negan's hands gripped her small waist and she certainly felt real enough, but he was still so afraid he was only dreaming. "If this is a dream," he murmured, "I better not wake the fuck up till its over."

Fiona smiled against his mouth. "I'll make sure you don't." Dying to touch him, she slowly ran her hands down his chest then back up again and over his shoulders and biceps, learning every curve and dip of muscle beneath his skin. "But it's not a dream,"
she whispered before her lips returned to his.

He kissed her deeply, devouring her as if he was a starving man. She smelled so good, like fresh soap and fruity shampoo, and her skin, when he slipped his hands under her shirt and up her back, was baby soft.

Fiona shivered at the feel of his fingers on her bare skin, longing to feel them everywhere. She shifted slightly on his lap, to better position her wanting center over the long hard length of him. She was so turned on already, just from a few kisses,
and needed more. Much more. She began grinding against him, moving her hips in a slow, sultry rotation.

Negan groaned, probing his tongue deeper into her mouth. Sliding his hands around to her front, he skimmed the underside of her breasts and then his fingers retreated down to the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head. The black lace ensemble
beneath was push up and see-through and her rosy tips strained against the delicate fabric.

He flashed her a rakish grin. "You expecting to get lucky, gorgeous?"

Fiona smiled shyly. "Figured I had a pretty good shot."

"You figured right." He caressed her neck, moving his hand down the hollow of her throat and over her breastbone. Splaying his fingers out, he could feel her heart pounding inside her chest. He was dying to touch her, to take those perfect little breasts
in his hands. Lifting one bra strap, he slid it off and kissed her shoulder where it had rested. Then he did the same with the other strap. "I don't think I'll be able to control myself if your panties match, too," he teased.

"Then take me upstairs and let's find out."

The sexy gleam of mischief in her eye was all the convincing he needed. He took off his glasses, tossing them aside, then stood up, taking her with him. She was feather light in his arms and she wrapped her legs snugly around his waist. She nibbled his
neck as he carried her
upstairs and his cock throbbed within the restraint of his jeans as he felt the warmth between her legs.

When he reached the landing, he paused, remembering the question his muddled brain had asked himself when he first saw her appear in the living room. "How the hell did you get in here anyway? The doors were all locked."

Fiona smirked. "Living in the same house as a teenager has its perks." She realized sadly as she said it that she wasn't actually living with Rick and his family anymore. But that feeling of loss quickly passed as one of desire overpowered it.

She was in Negan's arms, he was huge and he was obviously more than ready.

So was she.

She needed him inside of her soon or she was going to explode.

Both literally and figuratively.

Still a bit confused by her cryptic answer, Negan was too distracted to pursue it further, so instead refocused his attention to the task at hand. He returned to kissing those delicious lips as he made his way down the hallway into the master suite,
closing the door behind him with his foot. Then he lay her in the center of the bed and climbed in after her. He positioned his body over hers and kissed her again, his hands cupping her breasts through the thin lace of her bra. His lips then travelled
down her jaw, across her collarbone and into her cleavage. She felt her nipples harden, expecting him to pay homage to them with his mouth, but he took her by surprise as his lips trailed south instead down over her stomach, his tongue circling her
navel. He unzipped her jeans and slowly slid them down her hips until she was able to kick them off.

He paused, admiring her matching black lace underwear which happened to be see-through, just like her bra. A patch of short dark hair was visible beneath, coming to a v and disappearing between her legs.

"Tell me how exactly does one find lingerie like this in an apocalypse?" he teased, fingering the waistline of the panties before sliding his hand over her mound.

Fiona arched her back at his touch, wanting to beg for more. "My friends are very good at supply runs. They found a mall a few months ago and, well, the Victoria's Secret had been fully stocked. The stores usually don't carry much of my size but Daryl
found a few things."

Negan's eyes narrowed at the mention of the redneck. "Daryl, huh? I bet he loved imagining how everything would look on you."

Fiona rolled her eyes. "He's like a brother to me. There's nothing remotely romantic there, trust me. Besides, he's not my type."

"Good. Because I don't think I can stand the thought of sharing you and this deliciously petite body with anyone else...ever again."

Wait.

What did he just say?

Was he already claiming her as his own?

He shook his head to empty it. Now wasn't the time to analyze things. He'd worry about it later and what it truly meant.

For now, jealousy and the thought of Daryl picking out lingerie for Fiona made him even hungrier for her. He tugged her panties aside and felt her readiness. "Fuck, you are soaking wet, gorgeous," he groaned, then slid them down her legs, pulling them
off completely. Slipping two long fingers inside, he stroked her velvety confines, touching all the right spots to make her writhe and moan. When his mouth replaced his hands and his tongue teased her clit, she saw stars. She fisted the sheets, closed
her eyes and bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. The sensations of pleasure mixed with pain felt so good and unlike anything she had ever experienced before. He certainly knew what he was doing. There was no doubt about that.

She felt the tension inside of her mounting and didn't know how much longer she would be able to hold out. She grabbed his head and pulled him up towards her. "I'm close," she gasped. "I want to come with you inside of me."

"You'll be coming all night, don't you worry about that. I have big plans for you, none of which include sleep and all which end with you not being able to walk tomorrow." He smiled down at her, then wiped a hand over his lips and chin before capturing
her mouth in another kiss. Fiona tasted herself on his tongue and it turned her on even more than she already was, a feat she had believed to be impossible.

"I want YOU first, though," she breathed, tugging impatiently at the waist of his jeans and pulling them down, taking his boxers with them. Fully naked, he was a sight to behold, strong, god-like and powerful. She was terrified of him yet also wanted
him with every fiber of her being. Her hands encircled the length of him as she guided him between her legs.

"Fuck me, Negan. Fuck me now, please."

His lips had moved down to her breast and with a nipple between his teeth he froze, stopping all his kissing and caressing and just stared at her, his eyes dark with desire. "Say it again."

She boldly met his gaze and arched her hips up until she felt his tip twitching against her slick folds. "I want you so badly...Fuck me, Negan."

It was the sexiest thing he ever heard. Especially coming from her mouth.

Countless women had uttered that line to him in the past but it was all part of the act, them trying to talk dirty to keep him entertained. Yet Fiona had nothing to worry about or prove, so to hear such a reserved, intelligent and somewhat shy woman lose
all abandon and surrender to him so completely like that...well... there just weren't any words.

So all the plans he had of taking his time and going slow went right out the window.

A low groan escaped his lips and he grabbed her hips, thrusting into her forcefully, making her gasp. She was so wet and so tight and if he didn't watch out, he would let go much too soon. He pulled out slowly, teased at her entrance then reentered
her again, as deep as he could go.

Fiona knew she was making noises that probably didn't sound fully human. He was filling her up completely, and every spot he touched was the right one, sending jolts of pleasure throughout her core. Sighing, she closed her eyes, savoring every sensation,
and began to move in sync with him.

Negan brushed his hand over her cheek. "Look at me, gorgeous," he whispered tenderly.

Fiona obeyed.

She would do anything he asked of her at this point.

She was his.

Utterly and completely.

Her eyes fluttered back open and held fast to his, while he continued to move above her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her nails into his back. The muscles in his arms strained as he kept most of his body weight off of her. His thrusts
were long and hard but soon he began to quicken the pace, and she felt her body on the verge of a fabulous explosion.

Negan felt her walls begin to tighten around him. "You close?" he murmured, capturing her mouth in another kiss.

"I'm there," she gasped. "Oh god, Negan!" His name was the last thing she said. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out as the most intensely powerful orgasm she ever experienced ripped her apart.

He watched her tenderly, awestruck, as waves of pleasure washed over her and her body trembled in his arms.

This was his new purpose in life, he realized in a haze. To pleasure her every day.

God help him, it was all he wanted to do.

His cock twitched, reminding him how close he was, too. He had held out long enough. He began to move inside her again, deep thrusts which penetrated all the way to her back wall. "I'll pull out in a second," he groaned, realizing they didn't use any
protection.

"Don't. I'm on the pill." Her blue eyes met his, still drunk with pleasure and she lifted a hand to his stubbled cheek. "Stay inside of me. Please."

He didn't need to be told twice.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close, burying his face in her neck as he emptied himself. His favorite expletive couldn't even fully do his orgasm justice, so he remained silent, just savoring the feel and scent of her soft skin instead.
He touched his lips to the base of her throat in a gentle kiss. Then he collapsed onto his back and it took him awhile to slow his ragged breathing. He was still surprisingly rock hard and wondered in amusement if he could go a second round.

Turning onto his side, he propped his head up on his elbow and grinned lazily over at her. "So Victoria's Secret AND the pill?"

Fiona smiled secretly, running her fingers up and down his arm, loving the feel of his muscles beneath. "We found a well stocked pharmacy, too. I told you we are good at what we do."

"No, YOU'RE good, gorgeous," he corrected her. "Fucking incredible, actually." Even though it was dark in the room, he could tell she was blushing. And there was that sweet innocence he was so drawn to.

"Thanks. And you're not so bad yourself. But you know that already. You bragged about it the first night you kidnapped me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Isn't kidnapped too harsh a word?"

"What else would you call it?"

"Temporary abduction?"

Fiona laughed. "Same difference."

Negan rolled back over her and began kissing her again-slowly, thoroughly. "So is your body completely numb?" he asked, referring to the kind of orgasms he bragged to her about that first night.

Fiona squirmed beneath him when his mouth took her breast, sucking on a nipple. She fisted his hair and arched her hips up greedily. "Not... quite. I think you need to try again."

Dimples bared, his grin was as big as a kid's in a candy store. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Then he threw the covers up and over them, disappeared below, and went straight to work.