Driving back home to the Sanctuary was easier than driving to the Matchstick Fort. Without having to clear roads, find passable routes or check out any likely looking places to loot it took exactly one hour and thirty eight post apocalyptic minutes. Negan had timed it, his eyes almost constantly flickering to the LED clock as it counted just how far away he was from the little house on the prairie.
Over the course of the journey he'd switched between kicking himself for not bringing Rae back with him to feeling relieved she knew none of his dirty secrets. Or at least none of the secrets that would make her want to smack him in the face rather than kiss him.
Right now he was kicking himself. What if something happened while he was gone? Maybe bringing her home wouldn't be that bad? Maybe she would have wanted him to? Maybe he should have scooped her ass up, strapped her in the passenger seat and said "no fucking arguing sweetheart." Or perhaps what he really should be doing was to stop asking himself so many fucking questions. He groaned, his eyes flicking to Seth and Carson who were sitting silently besides him. No matter what he thought it was too late for changing his mind. He was home now and the decision was already made.
Carson cracked half a smile and Negan reciprocated, "home sweet fucking home boys."
He jumped out of the truck and the gravel crunched under his boots just like it did all the other times he'd returned from a run except this time it was different. He stared at the industrial grey building with its wall of roamers clawing for their next meal and it wasn't exactly the picturesque scene of Rae's fort with its rolling fields. There was something special out there with all those women and the planters that wove a sea of life across the matchstick walls.
He rolled his shoulders and twirled Lucille in a practice swing with a grunt, just when had he turned into such a fucking pussy? It was as if all the time spent with Rae busting his balls had made him forget he fucking had a set of balls in the first place. This was the Sanctuary and there was no time for interior design, potted plants or the slightest sign of weakness. He had to get a grip before he started crying over spilt milk and worrying about breaking a motherfucking nail.
He slammed the truck door on the past few days and his whirlwind adventure like it was a case closed. But before he could think a single other thought he was already back to wondering how many times he'd be able to leave the Sanctuary and make the journey for the pleasure of some long legs, freckles and smart ass man eating attitude.
He was screwed, he was crazy, the whole thing was crazy. He should have cut a deal with Rae's people like he did with everyone else but he didn't, he hadn't, something had stopped him and he'd be back. He'd be back before the week was out if he had his chance but instinct told him it would be longer.
The levels of shit he had to deal with at the Sanctuary on a daily basis were never ending, he could only imagine the pile he had waiting for him right at this very moment. He could only imagine the questions he'd be facing as he scanned the people who were in the forecourt. He'd never been away from The Sanctuary for as long as this, he'd never trusted to leave his people for as long as this.
Simon was waiting for him, his grin as crazy as it always was, "I thought you might have decided to stay out there boss."
Negan chuckled, how astute, or was it that fucking obvious? "You can't get rid of me that fucking easy."
"So you've brought your redhead back?" Simon looked over Negan's shoulder and he was back to thinking about long legs and green eyes. His mind flying him into space before Simon cleared his throat to drag him back to the Sanctuary.
Negan frowned, clearing off the soft soppy look that had glazed his eyes, "another wife? I'm not trying to give myself a fucking heart attack. Red can be my holiday fuck. A nice second home in the country that comes fully stocked with tits, ass and solar power."
Simon laughed enthusiastically, it was exactly the sort of thing everyone expected Negan to say. In fact it was just the sort of thing he would say and think. So he laughed along, glancing back at his people, everyone kneeling, heads bowed down. They stood or rather didn't stand as a stark reminder of the real reasons he hadn't brought Rae home.
No matter how ugly the walls or how he felt about bringing Red here, this was his home and he'd been letting shit slide for too long. He'd left Simon in charge of corralling and bringing back the remainder of Jacob's people as well as the supplies they found in the warehouse and although he trusted Simon there was no way he would delegate such a task under usual circumstances. He liked to be the one bringing people home and showing them who was boss. "How are our new guests doing?"
"They've settled in, like you said, they don't give two fucks who's in charge."
"Good," he looked at the forecourt of people on their knees one last time, "I'm gonna hold a gathering later. Make sure everyone knows the fucking score around here," he needed to cement himself as King Dick before someone decided to start a bloody revolution.
"I'll spread the word Boss. You wanna go over the supply ledgers now or you wanna spend some quality time with your wives first?"
Negan forced his grin, "you drop the paperwork off upstairs and I'll look over it." He spotted Dwight kneeling by the wheel of the truck, "but you know me, first things fucking first and I've been away from my wives for far too fucking long. They're probably dripping wet with anticipation and I wouldn't wanna start a fucking flood up there."
The shit eating grin filled Simon's face at the same time a grimace crossed Dwight's. He hadn't touched Sherry since she betrayed him but that didn't mean he didn't own her and it certainly didn't mean he wasn't going to fuck with Dwight. He had his rules for a reason and breaking those rules was the ultimate betrayal. The last thing he wanted people thinking was that they could betray him. Whether it was fucking his wives behind his back or thinking they could take charge and be the king of the saviours. He waited until Dwight caught his eye and winked as if in confirmation that he was going to spend the entire evening balls deep in Sherry.
Dwight quickly looked down at the ground and Negan didn't feel the same satisfaction that he usually would, part of him felt sorry for the miserable fuck. He let the door slam behind him, leaving Simon to organise everything while he headed for the kitchen and ignored the long forgotten feelings that were more than stirring.
The second he crossed the threshold of the kitchen there was a buzz of energy. Staff that had been idling with their fingers up their asses were suddenly in a flurry of activity. Everyone else was concentrating on their jobs so hard he could practically see the beads of sweat rolling down the backs of their neck. He pointed Lucille at the man in charge, a portly old bastard with a limp that made him useless anywhere but in the safety of the Sanctuary. He hobbled over, oven glove in one hand, wooden spoon in the other.
Negan couldn't remember the man's name but everyone called him Chef, even if most of his food was treading the line between passable and barely edible. He might not have been first choice for the title but he was the only one with the balls to take the job since the last man had met a sticky end after giving Negan and every other fucker in the Sanctuary food poisoning that had them shitting through the eye of a needle for forty eight hours. Negan hadn't killed the old chef but he'd demoted him to a job that had made him as good as dead and a lesson well learnt to everyone else.
Chef kneeled, his eyes firmly fixed on Negan's boot. "Get your ass up," he barked, when he'd made people kneel he hadn't realise just how much it might piss him off to have to conversate with the tops of their heads instead of their faces.
Chef hesitated, his eyes slowly creeping along Negan's body until he began to stand in considered movements, as if he was standing before a crazed bear that would rip him apart if he dared to move too fast. "Sir?"
"I have a hankering for apple pie." His mouth salivated at the very thought, "you know the kind of apple pie Grandma might make if she wasn't a crazy old bitch." He snorted, imagining his own Grandma extinguishing the end of her cigarette in the pastry before giving Chef a stern stare, "don't fuck this up, you're not the only one around here that knows how to use an oven glove."
"Yes sir," and that was it. Conversation over. Chef turned and practically ran for the safety of the pantry.
Negan idled in the kitchen for a further five minutes but not one single person dared to look him in the eye let alone strike up some friendly conversation. He was the uninvited asshole that nobody wanted at the party and he knew it. He turned leaving them to their work and the resounding sighs of relief he was sure were filling every inch of the stainless steel kitchen.
Not that it bothered him, he didn't care if people hated him, he wasn't trying to win a popularity contest, he was trying to keep people alive or at least that's what he started out doing. Popular or not, there was no avoiding things now that he was back. The people in the kitchen might have their relief but he certainly didn't. He'd asked for his pie and now he had to face his wives and all their bullshit complaints.
Negan trudged up the stairs like a child with an early bedtime, Lucille was practically dragging on the floor. The door was shut and nobody would know if he turned and found something else to occupy his time but he didn't, he flung it open and spread his arms out wide. They were all there, waiting, lined up on the sofa's like china dolls dressed in black with painted smiles.
Kirsten's smile at least looked marginally genuine and no doubt she had a list as long as her nose of things she wanted to ask for.
Sherry and Amber's smiles had fallen flat before they had barely had a chance to twitch at their cheeks. Now they were more like two constipated grimaces and Negan held back on rolling his eyes, his displeasure would only be their pleasure.
Jennifer and Sonya barely even looked up from their books. It wasn't that they hated him, he was sure for a while they enjoyed the deal they'd made with the devil but good sex was nothing more than good sex and like most women they always wanted something more. They wanted to be the only one, they wanted the top spot that belonged to no one but Lucille. Good sex didn't mean good conversation and it certainly didn't mean intimacy, so here they all were, playing house and going through every last motion except the ones that really mattered.
"Nice to fucking see you too wives," he announced like they were falling over themselves with excitement to see his return. They all looked at him now, their faces blank, "have you missed me?"
Kirsten slinked off the sofa, flicking her hair over her shoulder, her lips pouted, her eyes gleaming with pure seduction as she stood before him. She placed one had on his chest, letting it glide lazily along the leather, "I was worried about you, " she purred, the seduction in her eyes lighting up to a sly smile, "did you bring me anything?"
Negan leaned back on his heels, his grin plastering to his face, "isn't the presence of my majestic fucking company enough?"
"You know you're enough," Kirsten changed tact, her hands creeping along his chest to find the zipper of his jacket, "you're enough for five women but I want you all to myself. Right. Now."
"Is that so?" His gaze trailed the length of her body. Negan was wound so tight that he probably could blow his load right now. In the right hands.
Kirsten rubbed his crotch and he closed his eyes, forgetting anything but the sensation before he opened them back up and like a heat seeking missile his gaze zeroed in. There they were in a cut glass bowl slap bang in the middle of the room, red apples. A dozen of them all piled high with their glossy skins catching the light as if they were precious jewels. Sweet and sour, all red. He looked back to Kirsten who was staring right through him with a vacant expression that had his balls forgetting they were desperate. He batted her hand away, "maybe later sweetheart."
He didn't care for her reaction or wait for it, he strolled to the table, picked up one of the apples and brushed his thumb over the smooth skin. "I wanna take a bath first, you'll sort that out won't you darling," he nodded to Sherry who was the only one of his wives who could follow a simple instruction without pouting or fucking it up. At least a simple instruction that didn't include breaking a vow and fucking her ex husband.
Sherry raised one brow and stood without saying a word and Negan was already disappearing into his room, inhaling the skin of the apple until he could almost taste the sweet juicy tang. He placed Lucille in her spot by the bed, set the apple on the desk next to the ledgers that Simon had brought up and began to flick through his collection of vinyls.
If there was one good thing about the sanctuary it was his bedroom, his own oasis filled with any-fucking-thing he wanted. He chose a Motown album, slid the record from the sleeve and placed it onto the player before dropping the needle, relishing the familiar scratching as the pin finds its groove and the music begins to sing.
Negan peeled his jacket from his shoulders and poured a measure of scotch, swishing it in the glass as if he had a couple of ice cubes to throw in the bottom. He took a seat in his executive chair, leaning back with his boots taking purchase on the desk while his wives began scurrying in and out of the room setting up the tub and filling it with bucket after bucket of hot water.
He sipped his drink, it was the good stuff, single malt, 15 years old and satin smooth with just a little hint of honey. He pictured Rae in his procession of wives, her long legs stealing the show in a tiny black dress, her green eyes sparkling as she carried buckets of water, walking all the way over to him and tipping its contents over his head, even in his imagination she wouldn't play ball.
Negan laughed under his breath and downed the remainder of his drink as his boots slid from the table. "Thats enough!" he commanded as they hurriedly poured the last of the water into the steaming tub and all but Kirsten scurried out as obediently as they had scurried in.
She perched on the edge of the tub easing the straps of her dress down her shoulders until she shimmied out of the whole thing, her plastic breast defying gravity above her washboard abs. Negan barely looked at her as he went to pour another drink. Gold Digger Barbie, even before all of this she'd been playing the same game, the only difference was the dick.
"I hope you're not planning on shoving your ass in my bath sweetheart," he downed his drink and she sauntered over, her hands smoothing down his shirt before she began working the buttons.
"You usually love getting me all wet," Kirsten grinned and laughed despite himself, she was an old pro when it came to getting what she wanted. He let her help him out of his shirt and rub the tension that was knotted in his back, "you're all worked up baby. Let me make you feel good."
Sometimes he thought he'd let his dick get him tangled up in a huge mess. Other times he told himself he was a fucking idiot for not enjoying pussy on tap but no matter how big his appetite, and Negan was a man with a very big appetite, there was only so much mindless pussy one man could fuck. Sometimes he just wanted to talk to someone that didn't tell him what he wanted to hear or do what they were told. Sometimes he just wanted to spend an evening not talking or fucking, just sit with a record playing in the company of another living and breathing person who didn't make him feel like his skin was about to crawl off his body in unadulterated irritation.
He ran his hand through Kirsten's bleach blonde hair and couldn't help but think of Grandma Ellie. Not one person in the whole matchstick fort gave two fucking shits who he was or what he thought. Even that dweeb, Tim was not above giving him the fucking stink eye. He laughed under his breath, for the dick swinging he'd done in the past two years he fucking loved being treated like he was just a regular douchebag.
"Tell me what you want me to do baby."
What would Grandma Ellie think of this and a woman like Kirsten? Who was he kidding? What would Rae think? "Leave," he said and the words almost stuck in his throat. His dick didn't care he was sending willing pussy out the door but another part did, the part of him that had never been loyal to Lucille when she was a living breathing woman, the part that told him losing her was his punishment for being a colossal fuck.
Kirsten did as she was told with nothing more than a frustrated huff which was a small mercy. Negan waited for the door to click shut before he unbuckled his belt and removed his clothes until he was standing as naked as a newborn baby with the rug soft under his toes. He reached for the apple as the song changed to Smokey Robinson, You Really Got A Hold On Me. He laughed and couldn't help but think about Red, as was the theme of his homecoming. He took one satisfying crunch of his apple which was just as tasty as he recalled and sank into the steaming hot water.
Goddamn Red and her little house on the prairie, every thought was a road that led right back to her. She was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. She was in the sour sweetness of the apples, the music crooning from the vinyl records and the endless tug of want that was pulling at his balls.
Negan let his heavy head find rest on the rim of the bath. He was mostly buried under the suds except for his knees which bent above the water like they always did in any bath since he'd hit puberty.
He bit the apple again and Red was there. Just her, no procession of wives, just creamy skin and polka dot freckles as she climbed into the tub. He spread his knees allowing her space to lower every inch of her endless legs into the water. He imagined her sitting between his thighs, washing a bar of soap over her skin, the iridescent bubbles slipping and sliding over her skin before she sluiced them away with the squeeze of a sponge and a cascade of steamy water lining the curves of her breasts and the hard peaks of her nipples.
Negan swallowed hard, the apple slipped from his fingers, thudding on the floor. Red might have been just his imagination running away with him but the desire that swelled without a single touch was heart pounding real. He pictured Rae climbing into his lap, her sweet apple lips on his, the ends of her hair swirling in the water as she slowly sank her body down onto his. Negan bit back a groan, sinking his body further into the heat of the water and he could almost feel the soft tight grip of her body as he pumped his cock in time with Rae's movements. Losing himself in the fantasy of her long legs squeezing around his body as she milked him dry with every grind of her hips.
It didn't take long, he was a desperate man after spending day after day chasing her red tail like a ravenous dog. His orgasm groaned from his body in uncontrollable hot spurts of pleasure that tainted the water when they should have been buried deep in Rae. He gripped the side of the bath to stop himself from drowning as the heavy feeling of pleasure pulled him under and the aftershocks trembled along his body.
Five wives and he was jerking off in the bath over another woman. "Goddamn Red," he mumbled to nothing but the walls. She had well and truly fucked him.
a/n- I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I wanted to give some insight into the dynamics at the Sanctuary, at least how I see them in this story. I'm not going to be following the TV show or the Comic, more of a mix of the two with poetic license ;)
December has been hectic for me but hopefully I can get back to a more regular posting schedule now its nearly over :)