"Well, hot diggity damn. Slip of tongue there, doll?" He inched closer. "And more important, are you sure? You look nervous."

You wished the wall would swallow you. He looked extremely pleased with himself, that he could induce such a reaction. He was enjoying this.

"S-sir, I didn't mean -"

"Nope." Curt and direct, it silenced you as if he stole your voice. He shook his head slowly at you. "Don't do that. From now on, if anything comes out of your pretty little fucking mouth and it ain't the bold naked truth, then I don't want to fucking hear it."

Your bottom lip quivered slightly, the stretch of silence and your blank mind was building pressure. How would anyone recover from this?

"Really? Nothing?" He clicked with his tongue after a moment. "Kinda disappointing."

You blinked. Fuck it.

"I have an odd talent of speaking in the wrong moment."

Negan's eyebrows rose, the corners of his mouth slowly stretched wide as he watched your face. "She can speak! I was starting to worry you had broken or something."

Embarrassed, you huffed a nervous chuckle, broke eye contact and looked down at your hands.

A steady, assertive finger tilted your chin up. Your eyes met again, he was so close you could see all the details in the dark circle surrounding his pupils. Negan tilted his head, a subtle shift to curiosity. It scared you, to be honest. To be subject to this man that was so known for being unreadable and unpredictable. Needless to say, catching Negan's interest had never ended well for anyone.

The lines of his face relaxed into something more solemn. "But does she dare to bite?"

His voice was lower and suggestive, but it was laced with pensiveness, like he was mentally pulling you apart and studying all the pieces before putting them back together. You realized he was looking for any sign of uncertainty, that you were going to disappoint him after all.

It offended you. And you didn't like that it did.

"What's your name?"

Reluctantly you told him. He had once heard your name when you had sworn to work under him, but that was a long time ago and ever since then you had made sure to stay out of his way.

The corner of his lips twitched up when your name rolled over his tongue. You watched his lips move and his tongue peak out between his teeth.

Your lips parted slightly in a soundless gasp for breath. "I-ii think I should return to the kitchen, I think they need-"

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

You hated the beat of silence and cold alarm that spread through you. "I think I should leave," you heard yourself whisper.

He nodded, but the smile on his face told you he was thinking otherwise. "You can, sweetheart, whenever you want. Matter of fact, I won't stop you. But let me ask you this first." He bent closer and mumbled in your ear. "Are you sure you really want to? Because I don't think you do."

Your eyelashes fluttered, your mind seemed to stand still and breathing was harder as he invaded your personal space. The rumble of his low inescapable voice penetrated whatever barrier you had tried to put up, it sent tremors through you. Deep inside, you knew he was right. There was a thirst inside you. It was growing. You didn't want to leave at all.

Straightening once more, he took another bite of the apple, still holding your gaze. He swallowed.

"Nope," he continued and stroked your chin with his thumb. "You and I are gonna have some fun first."

Rough fingers grabbed your shoulders and suddenly you were twirled around, your back was pressed up against a hard chest.

"See, I couldn't help but notice, you were touching something that doesn't fucking belong to you."

Your eyes went to the bat on the armchair, she was resting there. A strange feeling grew under your skin, you felt like the bat was grinning at you, maliciously and with satisfaction. She put you in this situation. His warm fingers burned through the shoulders of your withered top.

"You didn't think I'd let you go without some kind of punishment, did you?"

At the corner of your eye, you saw him place the apple on the shelf beside you.

He clicked with his tongue and then he moved your hair out of the way and his fingers where touching your throat. "You know I can't do that, darling."

You felt him lean against you, his cheek rubbed against your neck, sending shivers through you. He took a long sniff and instinctively, your chin raised, exposing more of the flesh.

"Pick her up."

"What?"

He sighed your name. "I dislike repeating myself – pick. her. up."

In hurry, you leaned forward as much as he would allow and as soon as your fingers touched the surface of the wood, you felt the buzz again, the confirmation that Lucille was very much aware of what was happening.

"Good, good," he whispered. "What does she feel like?"

Awkwardly you held the bat out right in front of your body. "Heavy."

The smile could be heard in his voice. "You calling my girl fat?"

Looking over your shoulder, your forehead accidentally brushed against his rough chin before your eyes met briefly. He chuckled and licked his lips before he nodded forward so as to say try again.

With a deep breath, you looked forward once more, ready to pull some bullshit out of your ass, because God knows what could save you now. But then two strong hands shot out around you from behind and took a firm steady grip of Lucille over your own small, meek fingers.

"Easy now," he whispered closely in your ear and backed you both into the middle of the room. "She might be rough, but she's a lady. She requires a certain finesse."

You tried to make yourself small between his arms, and he must have felt your hesitation. One of his hands let go and steadied you assertively against him with a hand on your hip.

"Focus," he mumbled, hand returning to cover yours. "Think of it like a dance, the gentleman always leads."

The whispers sent tingles through you and bless your heart, you tried to focus, but all you could think about was how good the warmth of him felt against your back, how solid and strong his body felt against yours.

He swung Lucille carefully, moving your body with his.

"Isn't she beautiful," he whispered sincerely, you heard the fascination in his voice. He swung once more, slower and this time you really looked.

Lucille buzzed against your fingers, so as to affirm the strange moment. There was something very powerful about being at the other end of her, to wield her. An energy was gathering inside you, one that you knew was not conjured by your own hormones. It swirled inside you, made your fingers tingle and your lashes flutter. You felt almost dizzy.

Negan was watching you, a corner of his mouth twitched up.

A beat.

And then at once you realized you were standing still, one of Negan's fingers was burning against your skin above the edge of your pants. You alone were holding Lucille, the weight of her brought you to this realisation.

Negan nuzzled his nose behind your ear, trying to get in your space, you knew, but it only sent pleasant but dangerous tingles down your spine.

"I'll ask again," he mumbled with a rumbling voice. "What does she feel like?"

Your chest heaved the slightest. You felt new somehow. "Alive."

"What more?"

"Thirsty."

His hands hugged your hips.

"For what?"

Before you realized your actions, you turned your face, craned your neck and brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth.

"You."