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No restraint

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They were drunk. Well, Negan was drunk; Rick was only moderately intoxicated. That explained why the latter had ended up having to drag to former home under the concern that letting Negan go back on his own would end up badly for his friend, no matter how much Negan complained that he was a grown-motherfucking-up capable of finding his way to his bed himself, thank you fucking much. Details aside, though, the matter remained that both of them were in a certain level of intoxication, which may have been the reason of what was happening.

That being that Negan was pressing Rick against the wall of the hallway, barely a couple steps away from the door, knee between the shorter man’s legs. Rick’s lips were reddened and slightly swollen, wet, and Negan’s were now leaving kisses on Rick’s neck, kisses full of a sudden and unexpected tenderness that didn’t match the man they were coming from, a man who had slammed his friend against the wall and violently claimed his lips, leaving a faint taste of alcohol behind.

Negan might have been the one carrying the weight of the action, but even if Rick was putting all of his strength in staying still, there was no denying what Negan’s kisses and caresses on his skin made to the man, Negan thought as he smiled, just before nipping teasingly at Rick’s jawline. The man was tense under him, but it was from stopping himself from closing his arms around Negan, and his breathing was heavy, almost a pant. All the evidence he needed was his erection poking on Negan’s leg, the same way Negan’s own boner was pressing against Rick’s stomach through all the unneeded layers of clothes between them.

He kissed and teethed his way from Rick’s collarbone to his earlobe, which he then proceeded to lick slowly, chuckling when he felt a shiver run down Rick’s entire body.

“As much as I’d love to fuck you against this wall, I think I’d rather have you on my bed. Move along, sheriff.”

“What about Lori, Negan? What about Lucille?”

Immediately, Negan felt an acute pang of guilt pierce through his arousal and into the feeble list of reasons he had to not hate himself. The thought of his wife - and he didn’t know if he should be thankful that she was visiting her parents and couldn’t be there to see him, or wish she had never left for long enough for whatever this was to get into his head - and her smiling beautiful face made guilt flood through him and his dick started softening for the briefest of seconds; that is, until his mind focused again on the warm skin under his hands, and any trace of guilt was replaced by pure and wild want .

He couldn’t help but think that it was amusingly ironic that Rick, whose judgement and opinion had been the other big factor that stopped him from cheating on his far too good for him wife, had at some point become the thing dragging him back into that familiar mistake.

He looked into Rick’s beautiful, clouded-with-confused-lust eyes for the span of a heartbeat, and then he closed his lips over Rick’s once more, desperately and eagerly licking inside and taking his lower lip between his teeth. A small rush of thrill ran through him when he got Rick to close his eyes and let out the softest of moans. He grinned, feral and dangerous.

“C’mon Rick, don’t act like you don’t know what a piece of shit I am.“

“You’re a piece of shit” Rick agreed, and Negan was far too familiar with that fact to be hurt by it, and instead took joy in the breathlessness in his partner’s words. His voice was a strange mix made up of the heat of someone who meant his words, the resignation coming from the fact that he had known Negan for long enough to somehow accept that as part of the man, and the confused and begrudging fondness Rick found himself feeling towards Negan anyway, shitty parts included. “But I’m not. You’re not thinking about Lucille right now, but I’m thinking about Lori.”

At that Negan laughed, a dark and bitter sound, almost angry, let out against the arch of Rick’s neck as his hands ran up and down his sides. Rick still did nothing to stop him, despite his words.

“Lori? You gotta be fucking kidding me right here, Rick. You can’t mean you’re gonna act like she hasn’t banged your best buddy Shane! Don’t tell me you’re not tempted to look at her and know she ain’t the only one getting a good dicking outside of your marriage bed? Well, I bet she has gotten that dicking on that bed. In all your house, probably. I hope they at least left Carl’s bedroom pure, but I really wouldn’t bet on it if that pile of shit you call a friend is involved.”

And Shane, of all people, had the nerve to be jealous of Rick’s friendship with Negan. He had never been able to figure him out, but Negan was good at reading people and if he had to have a guess on Shane, it’d be that the man had some sort of feelings for Rick, not only for Lori, and probably wasn’t even aware of it but that didn’t stop him from feeling like Rick belonged to him. While he had an affair with his wife. Yeah, Negan had nothing but guesses as far as Shane was concerned. But what he did know for certain was that he wanted to beat the holy hell out of him to a bloody pulp for daring to call himself Rick’s friend.

Not that Negan was any better, not really. There he was, trying to push moral, decent and honest Rick into cheating on his wife. With him, another married man whose wife was a friend.

“Stop it” Rick said, voice suddenly not shaking but cutting, leaving no room for argument. Negan didn’t know if it was the mention of Carl or the reminder of what - or whom - his wife was likely doing at the moment, and he frankly didn’t care. He just felt a desperate need to laugh all of sudden, probably effect of the booze he’d had combined with the idea that Rick wouldn’t pay Lori back, and he was then clinging to Rick to stop his laughter from making him fall to the floor.

“Negan, please. I said stop.” Rick’s voice wasn’t cutting anymore, but soft instead. However, it was more effective than anything else could have, and Negan felt a deadly cold invade him as the possibility that Rick really, really didn’t want this to happen entered his hazed brain. He moved away as fast as he could without making himself look anxious, and his relaxed smile and shrug did a good enough job of hiding how utterly disappointed and rejected he felt at the moment.

“Jesus, Rick, I’ll stop! But get that stick outta your ass, will you?”

There was a brief hardness on Rick’s eyes, but it was immediately replaced by something softer, something that Negan’s drunk brain wasn’t clear enough to read. He wanted to believe that it was regret that he had stopped it, but another, meaner part of him said that it was pity, because why would Rick look at him in any other way? At the moment he could be pitied or hated, and Rick was far too good for the latter. Far too good for Negan. Just like Lucille.

A few moments after Negan backed off, Rick sighed and nodded at him. “Goodnight, Negan. Hope you don’t have to remember any of it in the morning.”

But Negan wanted to remember it. He didn’t want to forget what it was like to have Rick’s lips under his, have his body under his hands and feel a shiver that said that Rick was aching to touch back. It would kill him, from embarrassment, from guilt, but he wanted to remember every single one of those sensations. When Rick turned around and went to the door, Negan stopped him by closing his arms around him from behind and hiding his face on his nape. Rick went still.

“You can’t tell me you’re gonna act like this didn’t happen” he whispered softly. “Rick, don’t leave. You- Lori- Just stay with me, please. You were hard, you are hard right now. I can make you feel good, so stay even if it’s just because you want to use me. God, Rick, I want you so fucking much, I need you to stay. Rick, I think I lo-”

Rick cut him short by violently shaking him off. Negan knew he had no fucking right to, but he felt hurt, even when Rick turned around and he saw that his face wasn’t full of anger, but afraid. Afraid of what Negan had been about to say and what it would mean to the both of them. With a gentleness that was only his, he put his hands on Negan’s shoulders and pushed him a step further into the house.

“Just fucking sleep, Negan. If you want to, we’ll talk about this. But not tonight. I don’t think you’ll want to say any of this when you’re not drunk. You’re not thinking straight.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Negan standing there, his expression turned into a cold smirk. Of course he wouldn’t want to when he wasn’t drunk, but not because he didn’t think it. God, how many times he had thought of Rick’s body on bed next to his without having a drop of alcohol in his veins. But without it, everything would be too complicated and he wouldn’t be able to focus on the simple facts. No, he’d have to face it all whole. He had yet again betrayed Lucille, the woman he loved and that by some sort of misplaced miracle loved him back, and he had utterly failed the only man that for some reason was willing to call him friend. He’d have to face it and he’d be too much of a coward to do anything.

He didn’t go to the bedroom. Instead, he ended up in the kitchen, serving himself a glass of rum. Bitter tears fell down his face as he swallowed the liquid down in one go.

What a shitty attempt at a human being he was.