My first day, at Negan's side, during the meeting with his outpost leaders turned out to be less nerve wracking than I'd expected. I had a few theories about why that was, but first let me go through my impressions of the people he chose to act in his stead at each outpost.

For the most part, they were ambitious, but loyal. Each one had their own way of dealing with things, I could tell that even before they started offering their monthly reports.

Gavin, who I knew was in charge of dealing with the Kingdom, was laid back. He wanted things to run smoothly, and I could see how Jared would go against his careful grain of cooperation. Jared, I could tell from that first meeting a month ago, was egging for confrontation. He needed it like most people needed air. For the most part, Gavin liked the responsibility that being a leader gave him, but he didn't want more. He was content.

Simon, the man with a mustache that most seventies porn stars would envy, was ambitious too. He was loyal, to a fault, but everyone had some level of loyalty to Negan. I knew, unlike Gavin, Simon didn't need an even keel to keep him satisfied. He was fine either way, though he didn't necessarily have the urge to kill, he wouldn't shy away from it. He'd convince himself, and hopefully Negan, that every death he carried out or ordered was for the greater good. Aside from his loyalty, he also envied Negan. While I didn't think he'd make a play for Negan's role outright, I knew he'd try if he sensed any weakness that would create cracks. As he studied me, I wondered if he were stupid enough to count me as such a weakness. I sure as fuck hoped for his sake he didn't.

The others, I made note, fell somewhere between the two. Some closer to Simon's end, the others firmly nearer Gavin's.

I smiled as Negan introduced me, not just because he was taking the time to do it, but because he also fumbled with just who the fuck I was to him. There's something immensely hilarious about a man like Negan being tongue tied. And he got me back, because as I mentioned the first day by his side wasn't nerve wracking, and he made sure that my nerves weren't what he was fucking with.

As his people gave their reports, Negan's hand started to creep up my leg under the table. He'd insisted that I sit, not at the spot next to him along the side of the table, but situated my chair beside him at the head. And so, while this one or that prattled on and on about quotas and whatnot and I tried to focus on their gestures, the way they met his eyes and the obvious and less than obvious tells, his fingers took a tour of my bare skin. The dress, I was slowly learning, was a two-fold choice for him. It did make me look both professional and emphasize my place at his side, but it also gave him greater access to me.

I parted my legs and bit my lip as he kept climbing higher. I felt him chuckle when he noticed that I'd given him greater access, but he kept up with the conversation in front of us, and I was trying to keep my own place among it. When his fingers slipped under the lace fabric that I'd been forced to wear, I bit my lip harder, holding back any noise that I'd be tempted to make as his fingertips teased along my dampness. I hadn't paid attention when we sat down, but he'd apparently removed his gloves, the calloused pads were making it incredibly difficult for me to remember why I was in the room. That we had an audience never fully left me, but as I swallowed hard against a building whimper, I felt some tension leave when he dismissed everyone.

Thank fucking God, I thought, groaning as Simon held back to have a private moment with his fearful leader. Negan smiled at me, not ordered Simon away, but keeping up his torture under the table while carrying on a fucking full and detailed conversation with Mr. Porn Stache. I closed my legs around his hand and arm, hoping that would stop him from his rubbing and the building fucking climb he had my body doing, but that was a futile hope. His long finger slid inside me and I closed my eyes at the penetration. Jesus, he had to feel just how fucking wet I was, from being in the room with all those fucking people while he played me like a violin and now, now he knew that I really did fucking enjoy the thrill of the possiblity of being caught.

I barely noticed when Simon finally left. I didn't pay attention to the door being closed behind him. The only thing I was focused on was Negan's finger and hand, bringing me higher and higher. "Callie, princess, you're fucking soaked." His finger was moving harder inside of me, and I found myself finally able to move with it. Fuck. I felt myself clenching around his finger, and then it was gone. Shit, really?

I watched, my lust full blown as he sucked the taste of me from his finger. I was panting, and fucking thankful we were completely alone now. I wrapped my arm around his neck, bringing his face to mine so I could kiss him, let him share what he'd tasted of me on his mouth, and he pulled me from my chair and lifted me onto the table in front of him. And then, as he'd promised twice this morning, he spread me out before him and feasted.

Lunch was a new experience. Instead of having something brought to us in the conference room or going back up to our rooms, we slummed it and ate in the cafeteria. Negan went to the kitchen and made our plates himself, and then, in full fucking view of the entire Sanctuary, he served me. I would have laughed, but the shock on every single fucking person's face told me that they'd never seen him behave like this with ANYONE. And if the sour look on Frankie's face proved anything, then it proved that some of our audience didn't just fucking hate it, but they found me lacking of the honor.

I ignored them. Every single one, because Negan was smiling at me and it was easy to fall into our pattern of eating and chatting. Even with an audience watching us, even with eyes burning into both of us. It didn't matter. They didn't matter. We did.

"Aside from huge ass heads," Negan said, picking up his fork. "What else do you have to look forward to?"

I did laugh then. "Oh, honey, I think you used the wrong word there. WE have a lot of shit to look forward to. Like the fact that after that huge fucking head comes out, we have six full weeks of celibacy to look forward to."

He stopped eating. His mouth was gaped open. And the look of utter disbelief was Kodak worthy. Yep, the best way to stop Negan's bullshit was to let him know that blueballs may become his constant fucking accessory for the weeks following his demon seed's birth. "You're joking." He scoffed, picking up his fork and putting his mind at ease with a certainty that I had to be fucking kidding.

"Ask Dr. Carson." I said, casually eating my way through my own lunch.

I could hear him swallow. Hard. Poor guy, I ALMOST felt sorry for him. Almost, because I could still see his hands trying to show me just how fucking huge thirteen inches was. Pain was going to be going around with the birth of this baby, guess we'd have to see who bounced back from it first.

My checkup with the doctor went quickly. Even with Tanya glaring from the corner. Jesus, it was like throwing a rock and hitting another chick your boyfriend banged in high school. Except here they were grown ass women, and they seemed more angsty.

Doc was happy with the way I was progressing. And he took note of the fact that I'd been born prematurely. He affirmed that I was taking my prenatal vitamins and that Negan had me following the diet that he'd recommended, then he dismissed the two of us. After, I have to mention, Negan got confirmation that I hadn't been fucking teasing about the six weeks waiting period.

"She'll have to heal, Negan," the doctor explained, trying to fight his own smile. "After all-"

"Thirteen inches," I offered in a singsong voice. I giggled at Negan's glare. Too bad, buddy.

We made our way back to our rooms, and once inside, he pulled me to him and claimed my mouth more hungrily than he ever had. Pulling away with a question on my lips, he practically growled at me. "Six fucking weeks?" His eyes were so dark that I could barely see his pupils. "If I have six fucking weeks without being inside of you ahead of me, then I plan on having you every spare fucking moment until then." If that was a challenge, then I was more than willing to accept. I held on to the lapels of his jacket, licking into his mouth to show I was game. And then, he and I made good on the promise or threat. Over and over.