Carl isn't the starter for Friday evening's game, but he does make an appearance as a relief pitcher. He's getting better, even Rick can tell, with more focus and control over his fastball. The game is tied in the fifth inning with no outs and runners at the corners. If the batter gets the ball into the outfield, pretty much anywhere, the third baseman scores a run. Putting Carl in at this juncture shows Negan's faith in him, and Carl isn't going to let him down. Negan had been right on the money regarding Carl's drive to upstage Ron Anderson; as much as Carl hates Negan, he's not going to sabotage his own chances on the mound.
Carol's busy tonight with Morgan, so Rick is stuck sitting with Jessie Anderson and her son Sam. It would be incorrect to say Rick doesn't like her, but her tendency to strike up conversations with him when he's trying to focus on Carl is a little irritating.
Which is what she's doing right now.
"Carl's hair is getting really long." As a hairdresser, it's something she would notice, but Rick's never given it much thought until she just pointed it out. "He's always shaking it out of his face," Jessie says as Carl does just that before pitching a sinking slider the ump calls a strike.
"I think that's the style now," Rick says. He's got no idea if that's true or not. But he's observed the popular boys—like Ron—tend to have shorter styles, and the less-confident ones use their hair like a curtain they can duck behind to hide from the arrows of adolescence.
Or maybe Carl refuses to get a haircut from anyone other than his mom, seeing as she had been the one to trim his hair.
Jessie smooths her palms over her jeans and clasps her hands together. Her bracelets jingle at the motion, and she looks at Rick, the gentle breeze blowing her hair. "I see you took off your ring."
Of course she'd notice that. But while Michonne saw it as a sign of emotional growth, Jessie's looking at it from a more opportunistic point of view.
That's probably an unfair assumption. Maybe Jessie is just as invested in Rick's well-being, but as an outsider she's never really had the chance to be accepted into his inner circle, so her concern comes off as fake.
"I did," Rick says.
The batter fouls back a fastball for a second strike.
"So I hope I'm not being too forward by asking if you wanna have dinner with me sometime?"
Rick is oddly startled by her invitation, despite seeing it coming a mile away. But he's been so busy dealing with Negan he'd forgotten that, from the outside looking in, he still appears to be single and unattached.
"Oh... Well, I'm already sort of seeing someone," Rick manages, fidgeting with his wristwatch.
Jessie blinks in surprise, a tinge of pink splashing across her cheeks. "Oh, I didn't know. Good for you! Anyone I know?"
Rick smiles to himself, though an onlooker would assume he's smiling at Carl's success of earning an out after the batter chases a low slider. "I don't kiss and tell."
"You're a real gentleman, aren't you?"
"Guess I am." Far more than Negan, but giving Rick his space last night showed a level of maturity he wasn't sure Negan even possessed.
With one out to his name, Carl seems to gain a bit of confidence, and the infield moves in for a double play. The next batter is a scrawny kid who looks like the weight of the bat is a little too much for him, so Carl takes his chances with a low pitch to the outside corner. Strike one.
The second pitch is rebuffed with a bunt, which, yeah, makes sense when the batter probably couldn't swing the bat without falling over. The ball skips toward the mound and ends up in Carl's glove. He fires to first, getting the out, and the first baseman throws to home, beating the runner on third. Inning over.
As Carl heads to the dugout, Negan fistpumps and says, "Now that's what I'm talkin' about, kid!"
Rick can't see Carl's face, but he's guessing Carl isn't warming up to Negan any time soon.
After the game, Rick and Judith meet Carl near the dugout to congratulate him. "You were good today," Rick tells him, and he means it.
Carl fights a little smile. Noah's one of the last of Carl's teammates to leave, and he slaps him on the back and says, "Good game, dude," before jogging off the field.
"Thanks," Carl calls back, looking somewhat embarrassed but appreciative of the compliments.
"They're not wrong, kid," Negan says, just sort of appearing behind Rick, but his focus is on Carl. "You earned your keep today, that's for damn sure."
Carl's expression quickly turns into a scowl, but there's a hint of pride there in the corners of his mouth, because even if he hates Negan, he can't deny impressing his coach means a lot. "Thanks," Carl grumbles.
"There's no shame in relief pitching," Negan says, like they've had this conversation before. "If you're good, you can save our asses."
If Negan's been experimenting with Carl's pitching—using him as a starter and reliever—he must really be invested in the kid's potential, seeking out the best position for Carl's talent.
Negan claps a hand on Rick's shoulder. Rick doesn't flinch away despite them being in plain view of anyone with eyes. "Speaking of asses..."
Rick smiles. "Stop."
"Ugh," Carl groans.
"You're right, I shouldn't corrupt the little one." Negan smiles at Judith, who Rick's holding in his arms. Judith reaches out for him, and Negan gives her a high-five. "You keepin' your dad outta trouble?"
"Uh-huh!" Judith answers with gusto.
"That's my girl."
Rick's heart swells and swells and might actually burst out of his chest. Then Negan looks at him, and Rick feels a goofy smile crawl across his face. "Are you coming over?" he hears himself ask.
"Maybe, maybe not. Depends what you got in mind."
"Well, we could order pizza—"
"Nope, nope. Stop right there. At some point you're gonna have to learn how to cook. Why don't I teach you how to make something that doesn't look like garbage you'd see in a prison cafeteria?"
"You said you don't cook."
"That, darlin', was a little white lie so you'd go out with me." Negan grins, his teeth gleaming.
Rick never imagined he'd be swooning over being called "darlin'" by a sleazy, honey-smooth voice, but here he is. "You lied to the sheriff?"
"And you bought it hook, line, and sinker."
Fair enough.
Carl isn't too thrilled about tonight's arrangement, but he can just fucking deal with it. Rick's tired of feeling guilty about something good in his life.
About an hour and a half later, Negan shows up at the Grimes' house with a sack of groceries and a smile. "Bon fuckin' appetit, Rick."
Rick shakes his head, chuckling to himself as he lets Negan inside. Negan's hair is slick and shiny, and he smells of cologne that makes Rick a little weak in the knees. "I should'a known you were puttin' me on with that 'I don't cook' nonsense."
"I'm not claiming to be a master chef here, but I know a few things, and it's my duty to pass on that knowledge to the less fortunate."
"'The less fortunate' being me?"
"Abso-fuckin'-lutely. You have a full spice rack but you can barely make macaroni?" Negan scoffs and heads for the kitchen.
Judith is sitting at the dining table, focused on the Disney coloring book in front of her, but when Negan approaches she immediately diverts her attention to him. "Uncle Negan!"
"Hey, kiddo! Told you I'd drop by. Your dad just can't get enough of me."
"Daddy likes you," Judith agrees, and Rick feels his cheeks blaze.
"Is that so?" Negan turns on his heel to look at Rick, grinning at the level-ten stage of blushing on Rick's face. "Does that mean I get to take you to prom? Maybe wear your letter-jacket?" He moves in close and steals a kiss, and Rick is overwhelmed with how fucking amazing his mouth feels and how good he smells and how much Judith likes him.
They're still impossibly close when their mouths break apart, and Rick teases, "I don't know where she got that idea."
There's a very specific smile Negan has when he looks at Rick; it doesn't happen all the time, but when it does it's a thing to be cherished, because it's not smug or snarky or even amused, just a flicker of pure warmth and adoration in his mouth and eyes, like Negan can't believe he landed a guy like Rick.
Rick's never thought he was particularly special, and it's hard to recall the last time Lori looked at him that way.
Food for thought.
After Negan gets the kitchen set up to his liking, Rick loiters near the stove where Negan's cooking onions and garlic in a pot. "So what's for dinner?"
"I call it 'Negan's Mouth Surprise.'"
"Oh, please don't."
Negan snickers, the corner of his mouth twitching. "You and Lucille had the exact same reaction to that. What're the odds?"
"I think they're pretty high." Rick picks up a nearby can of sun-dried tomatoes. "Anything I can help with? I could chop something, or—"
"No. Nope. I'm not risking you slicing your fingers off."
"I carry a gun, y'know."
"Is that a threat?" Negan asks, looking amused by that possibility.
"It's a reminder I'm not as clumsy as you like to think."
"Most accidents happen in the home, Rick." Negan tosses some flour into the pot. "And you plus sharp objects equals hell no. Not in my kitchen."
"This isn't your kitchen," Rick reminds him, but his heart's all aflutter with the possibility that it could be, in time.
"It is when I'm cooking in it."
"So if I can't help, what am I s'posed to do?"
"Watch and learn."
So Rick does, watching Negan pour an assortment of creamy things into the pot. He's a little insulted that Negan doesn't trust him not to cause some sort of cooking-related disaster, but he'll get over it.
"I guess Lori was the designated cook in the family, huh?" Negan asks.
Rick nods and leans against the fridge, trying to look casual. "Her mother was big on family dinners. Used to cook up a whole bunch of food for the holidays."
"So how've you been feeding your kids for the past two years?"
"I'm not helpless. I just don't really have time or the energy to make a big meal. Carl tends to fend for himself anyway."
"Excuses, excuses," Negan says, shaking his head.
While the pasta's boiling in another pan, Carl's voice sounds from the dining room. "Oh look, it's an actual kitchen nightmare."
"Don't worry, you don't have to eat with us," Rick says, cutting Carl off at the pass, because he wants an enjoyable evening with Negan that isn't interrupted every few seconds with Carl's gagging noises and snide comments. Maybe he's taking the easy way out in regards to parenting, but he's hedging his bets on Carl moving past this resentment eventually, so why not make it easier for all of them in the meantime?
Carl pulls up, stunned by Rick's acquiesce. "No argument? Why are you being so cool?"
"I am cool," Rick protests, earning laughter from both Carl and Negan. A little offended, Rick spreads his hands. "Looks like I actually got you two to agree on somethin'."
Carl rolls his eyes. "It's just a fluke. Don't read too much into it."
Within a few minutes, the soup is ready. Carl fixes himself a bowl, grabs a soda out of the fridge and hurries up the stairs to the safety of his bedroom. It takes a bit of coaxing—and picking out the mushrooms and tomato pieces—but Negan actually gets Judith to eat something that isn't chicken nuggets or macaroni and cheese.
"How'd you do that?" Rick wonders, awed.
"She likes me," Negan says with a shrug, like it's that simple.
Judith's already taken a spoonful and isn't protesting, so Rick figures maybe the soup's not terrible. He takes a bite for himself. It's creamy and smooth and delicious.
"Not bad."
"Not bad?" Negan scoffs. "You're killin' me, Rick. It's freakin' amazing and you know it."
Negan's attempts at G-rated swears around Judith never fail to warm Rick's heart.
"Where'd you learn to make this?"
"Y'know any bozo can look things up on the internet, right?"
"Is that what this particular bozo did?" Rick asks, pointing a teasing finger at Negan.
Negan grins. "You're a hell of a flirt, Grimes. Good thing your boy's not here."
It's an infrequent happenstance that the three-year-old is less chaotic company than the teenager, but Rick's life is full of surprises lately.
After dinner, Negan volunteers to clean up—"Your kitchen is a disgrace, Rick"—while Rick gets Judith ready for bed. "Is Uncle Negan sleeping over?" she asks during her bath.
Rick doesn't know. Should he ask Negan to stay? It's already happened once, so it's not like that would be new territory for them. And Rick's already embarrassed himself by inviting Negan to move in. Asking him to stay the night should be laughably simply by this point.
"I don't know," Rick says after a moment of thought. "I haven't asked him."
"Why?"
Rick doesn't really have an answer for that. "I forgot. I'll ask him, but he might not want to sleep over tonight."
Judith frowns, her hands breaking through the water's surface in a defeated sort of way.
"Would you like it if Uncle Negan lived with us?" Rick thinks he ought to get permission from his kids before taking any huge steps like cohabitation.
Judith slaps the water with excitement, splashing the front of Rick's shirt. "Yeah! Carl says it was better when Mama was here. So maybe it'll be better if Uncle Negan's here too."
Probably not better for Carl, Rick thinks in a joking moment of cynicism, but he knows this will be good for Carl in the long run. At least that's what he's telling himself so he doesn't feel like a selfish asshole for pursuing this relationship. He's still a little fucked up on that despite Negan's pep talk. Because Negan has a hell of a lot to gain by keeping them together, so he's not exactly an unbiased source.
As Rick tucks Judith into bed, she says, "Daddy, can Uncle Negan read my story tonight?"
Whoa.
Rick tries not to look stunned, but he can't help it. "Um... Why don't we ask him?"
He gets her in his arms and heads for the stairs. Negan has finished with kitchen duty, and he's stretched out on the couch, his socked feet kicked up on the coffee table while he plays with his phone. The sounds of Rick's footsteps on the stairs catch Negan's attention, and he looks up to see Rick holding Judith.
"Well, aren't you two just adorable?"
Rick smiles, embarrassed. "She wants you to read to her."
Negan blinks, stunned, almost a mirror of Rick's own reaction, then a smile crawls across his face that Rick's never seen before. It's awed and warm and brilliant, like he never imagined in a thousand years he'd have a second chance at a family. "No way, really?" His voice catches around the words, as though pulling back on a 'no shit.'
"Please?" Judith begs, and there's no way anyone can resist that.
"At your service, doll," Negan says with nary a trace of sarcasm. He slides off the couch and up the stairs. Rick hands her off to him, and Negan holds her like he's done this a thousand time. Judith wraps her arms around his neck. "What's your favorite story?"
"Frozen!"
"Frozen it is, then." Negan carries her down the hall to her bedroom, and Rick watches, a million different feelings bouncing around in his chest. But the most prominent is joy, exhilaration that Negan so seamlessly blends into his family, as though filling a space that's always been meant for him.
It's ridiculous to think Rick's moving too fast by wanting Negan as a permanent fixture in this home. Things are moving at exactly the rate they need to be; Rick spent two years in a haze after Lori died, and now he's just catching up to where he ought to be: ready to try again. And Negan seems like he's on the same wavelength, so what's the problem?
Oh, right. Carl.
Rick should probably get Carl's permission before making any drastic changes to their home life. Okay, maybe not permission, because Carl's the kid here, but maybe blessing?
That sounds like Carl's the fucking Godfather and Rick's asking him for a favor on the day of his daughter's wedding—
Wedding.
Oh, shit. Tara and Rosita's wedding is tomorrow.
Should Rick invite Negan as his guest?
One problem at a time.
Rick heads to Carl's room and knocks, earning a muffled, "What?" from inside.
"Can I talk to you?"
A few seconds later, Carl opens the door, giving Rick his usual side-eye. "Is he gone?"
Rick thinks about telling him Negan's in Judith's room reading to her, but he wants Carl to be as agreeable as possible to this, and that would just enrage him. Rick shakes his head. "He's still here."
Carl exhales a bratty sigh.
"That's what I wanna talk to you about. Can I come in?"
Carl shrugs and lets him inside. The laptop screen glows bright on the unmade bed, and Carl pushes it aside so Rick has a place to sit if he chooses. Rick considers standing, but that might come off as too intimidating and parental. So he sits on the edge of the bed, making like they're equals.
Rick isn't sure how to start, so he just lays it on the line. "I know you don't understand it, but I like Negan a lot, and I want him to be part of our family. I've been thinkin' about asking him to move in, but I want you to be okay with it. " He considers mentioning how much Judith likes Negan, but he doesn't want to seem like he's pressuring Carl or giving him the 'why can't you be more like your sister' spiel.
Carl folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "Not yet, okay? Just... wait."
"You think it's just a phase, huh?"
Carl gets up from the bed and paces the floor, kicking dirty clothes out of his pathway. "What if it was me? What if I had a girlfriend I'd only been dating for a week and I wanted to get married? You'd tell me no."
"'Cause you're fifteen." Rick's stalling, because he sees what Carl's getting at.
"But what if I wasn't? What if I was eighteen? You'd still give me the whole dad talk about how I'm making a mistake and I'm too young to know what love is and how I shouldn't just settle for the first person I meet who likes me."
"But I couldn't stop you."
"You'd want to."
Rick nods, conceding. "I probably would. But making mistakes is how you learn."
"But if you're making a mistake with Negan, that doesn't just affect you. It affects me and Judith too. And Negan, I guess." Carl leans against the wall near his bedroom window. "How long did you wait with Mom?"
"It took me a while," Rick says. "But I was young and scared. It's different now."
"He'll die, y'know."
When the hell did Carl get so morbid?
Carl continues: "He's older than you, so he'll probably die first. Can you handle that again?"
Rick shuts down his initial reaction of 'what the fuck, Carl' and tries to focus on the question. He's already lived through losing the love of his life once, but he doesn't think that's something you ever get used to. You don't come back from that twice, not without some serious emotional damage, and it's still up in the air whether Rick's come back at all.
And Negan... Oh Jesus. He's already lost Lucille. If Rick went first...
"That's a really messed up question," Rick says, because he's got nothing.
"But it's important. And you said Negan lost his wife too. So both of you are kinda screwed."
"You're not s'posed to focus on the end. It's the beginning and middle that make the end worthwhile."
"So you wouldn't undo it? If you could go back and stop yourself from marrying Mom..."
Rick shakes his head. He doesn't regret any of it. "No. 'Cause she's the reason you and Judith are here. I loved her. I still do. I wouldn't change that."
Carl stares at his hands in his lap, letting Rick's words sink in. He fidgets with a cuticle, and Rick wants to tell him to stop. "You should still wait."
Fair enough. At least they had a civil conversation that didn't end with Carl threatening to run away. Rick's counting that as progress.
"Hey, Dad?" Carl says. "How'd you ask Mom out?"
"Well, I didn't, really. Shane set us up. Why? Are you gonna ask someone out?"
Blush floods Carl's cheeks, and he glances away. "Yeah."
Pride swells in Rick's chest. His little boy is growing up, on the cusp of getting his first girlfriend. "It's Enid, isn't it?"
Carl doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to.
"It's okay," Rick says. He'd be kind of a hypocrite for side-eyeing Enid yet expecting Carl to just accept this thing with Negan. Funny how neither of the Grimes men like the other's date, for no real solidified reason besides 'they just irk me.'
"How do you ask out a girl without sounding like a desperate loser?" Carl asks.
Rick's not sure he's the best person to ask here, but this is his fatherly duty, so he trudges on. "Well, what does she like?"
Carl shrugs. "Music. Video games. Movies. Comic books."
"You could ask her to a movie. There's gotta be at least one comic book movie out now, right?"
"Yeah, but... I dunno, it just feels obvious. Like she'll know exactly why I'm asking."
"If she likes you, she'll be glad you asked. She might be just as nervous as you are."
"What if she doesn't like me?"
"Then it's best you find out sooner rather than later."
Carl nods, grabbing his phone off the bed and staring at it for a moment before typing something. Rick smiles to himself, remembering his first few nerve-wracking texts to Negan, how the few seconds it took for him to answer felt like a thousand eternities.
"Oh God," Carl groans, turning his head away from the screen. "I hate this."
"I wish I could tell you it gets easier."
"So just lie and say it does. It's for the greater good, like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny."
The phone buzzes in Carl's hand, and he almost throws it across the room like it's a live grenade. But his instincts get the better of him, and he reads the message on screen. A smile grows on his face. "She said 'sure.'" He looks at Rick. "No way!" The phone vibrates again. "She's not busy tomorrow." Carl's expression turns pleading. "Can I please go out tomorrow? You can have Negan move in and I won't complain, I swear—"
Rick holds up a hand to stop Carl's flood of words. "It's fine. You can go. I'll be busy tomorrow anyway with the wedding."
"Wedding?" Panic flashes across Carl's face for a moment.
"Tara and Rosita."
"Oh." Relief, then Carl's brown knits in distress. "You're not gonna ask Negan to go with you, are you?"
Rick's been wondering about that himself, but it doesn't feel right. Tomorrow is a celebration of Tara and Rosita's love, not a time for Rick to parade his new relationship and steal their thunder.
And of course this isn't an easy, well-intentioned excuse to prolong his inevitable coming out. Not at all.
Rick shakes his head. "No, I'm not. Don't worry."
"Good. 'Cause if you did, people would find out and everyone at school would make fun of me."
"People are gonna find out sooner or later," Rick says, because if Carol's noticed the shiny black Impala parked out front of his house, odds are someone else has too. Maybe they've written it off as Rick having a friend over for a beer or two, but an astute observer would see what's really going on.
Carl's face scrunches up in anticipation of a blow.
"I taught you how to fight," Rick reminds him. "If any bullies try to give you shit, you give it right back."
"You're giving me permission to punch people?" Carl asks, sounding skeptical.
"I'm giving you permission to defend yourself." Rick thinks that's an important distinction, but a voice in the back of his head tells him Carl's going to twist that all to hell.
"Mom would go nuts if she knew you said that."
"Well, it'll be our little secret." Rick smiles, and, to his surprise, so does Carl.
They hug and trade stilted 'I love you's and Rick reminds him to go to bed at a decent hour, but it's Friday night so he's not going to be too strict about it.
As Rick's leaving Carl's room, Negan leaves Judith's. They meet at the doorway to Rick's bedroom, and Rick's certain he has that stupid, dazzled expression on his face, because he can't stop thinking about how goddamn sweet it is that Judith has accepted Negan as part of the family. "How'd it go?" Rick asks as Negan fills the space between them, his hands finding Rick's waist.
"She made a valiant effort to stay awake 'til the end, but my dulcet tones can be pretty fucking soothing."
"You're puttin' me to sleep," Rick agrees, solely for the little ass squeeze Negan gives him as punishment for his smart mouth.
"I'll get you in bed, but you sure ain't gonna be sleeping." Negan guides Rick into the bedroom, closing the door with his foot as he fulfills his promise and deposits Rick onto the mattress. Rick goes willingly, completely ready for Negan to strip him bare and fuck him senseless.
Negan's mouth is ravenous, but his hands are tender and patient, slowly unbuttoning and unzipping and tracing hot lines over Rick's exposed skin. Rick squirms atop the duvet, his hips jerking and twisting and seeking friction. Negan nips at Rick's mouth while a warm palm glides along the inside of his naked thigh. Rick makes a pathetic noise, and Negan chuckles.
"Shit, you're all riled up and ready to go, huh?" Negan glances down, catching sight of Rick's hard, leaking cock, and licks his lips.
Rick fumbles for the elastic of Negan's briefs, tugging them down over his hips for access to his dick. But Negan stops him, pinning Rick's wrists behind his head, against the soft give of the mattress, and, okay, Rick's really turned on right now.
"Please," Rick huffs out, because he's not above begging. He hooks his legs around Negan's hips, trying to coax him.
Negan ignores his plea, kissing his chin and licking the hollow of his throat and mouthing over his bicep. Rick struggles against his restraints and shivers at the bristly kisses.
Negan likes dirty talk, so Rick tries that as his next tactic. "C'mon, baby, fuck me," he drawls. "Use me. I'm yours." Negan frees Rick's wrists so he can inch down and open his mouth around a nipple. Rick sucks in a breath, his hands finding Negan's back, fingers gnarling in his hair. Negan adds a bit of teeth, and Rick's back leaves the mattress in a needy arch.
I love you, he wants to say, but it feels wrong to say it here, as a sort-of manipulative ploy to get his ass pounded.
"You drive a hard bargain, Rick," Negan says, dropping hot kisses down Rick's chest. "But I'm not gonna fuck you tonight."
Goddamn tease, Rick thinks, squirming against Negan's hands and mouth, but they're connected within moments, and Rick's about to take him for a liar until Negan begins to move inside of him. Rick gasps around Negan's aggressive kisses, because it's never been like this, slow and deliberate and sensual. Negan touches Rick like he's delicate, one gentle hand curved around his ass as their hips rock together.
"Shit, will you stay still?" Negan laughs through kisses, claiming Rick's mouth in teasing little nips. "I'll get you off, baby, but you gotta let me do the screwin'."
Rick makes himself stop, his shaking hands grappling at Negan's back. His fingers dig in with each thrust, with the way Negan's mouth leaves him breathless and rubbed raw. Rick pushes his heels against Negan's ass, and he can't help pushing his hips into the steady rhythm, nudging his erection against the hard muscle of Negan's stomach, because he wants so, so much more, and it's not like Negan to be patient when it comes to orgasms.
Then Rick realizes they're making love, and it should be the corniest fucking thing in the world, but it's not.
Negan grunts a mildly irritated noise into the space between Rick's cheek and shoulder, obviously annoyed by Rick's eager participation. But it doesn't stop his languid pace, and Rick grips the backs of Negan's thighs, trying to coax him deeper to soothe the low ache. His nails bite into skin, and Negan rumbles with arousal. "Goddamn, it's been ages since I've been scratched up," he says, and Rick takes that as permission to continue, and it's not like he has to force himself to rake his nails over Negan's skin while they're joined like this.
Negan's hand on Rick's ass tilts his hips for a better angle, and Rick's still new at this so it doesn't take much to break him apart. Rick shudders and lets go, every muscle loose and tight at once, and he claws at Negan's back as his orgasm leaves him like a thread unraveling, slow and winding and almost agonizing.
Negan growls as the tight pull brings him over the edge, coming with a grunt behind clenched teeth. "Fuck," he breathes out over and over through the aftershocks, his hips a little less patient now, and he fucks into Rick until he can't anymore.
Then they're lying there, shaking and sighing and trying to get the world to stop spinning. Rick cards his fingers through Negan's sweat-damp hair, enjoying the hot flare of breath against his earlobe. Negan turns his head to kiss the side of Rick's face with unhurried lips.
"That was..." Rick gives up on eloquence and thinks Negan will appreciate a joke. "Sploosh."
Negan snickers, his beard scratching Rick's shoulder. "Sploosh is fuckin' right." He shifts, sliding against the slippery wetness on Rick's stomach. "Shower?"
"You first," Rick says, sliding a hand up Negan's arm as he moves to push himself up.
"You just wanna look at my ass." Negan shakes his head and rolls his eyes like he's being objectified.
"It's not bad." Rick smirks, and he totally doesn't stare as Negan pads naked into the bathroom.
He doesn't need to ask Negan to stay, either.