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“If a boy is mean to you that means he likes you.” His friend Emma had told him at recess one day at the ripe age of 7 years old.
Carl immediately stops what he’s doing and screws up his face, looking over at her. “I like you and I’m not mean to you...”
Emma shrugs and continues on with her dirt drawing of her cat, Mipsy. “That’s just what Courtney told me. And she’s in 7th grade, so.”
Carl considers the wise words of Emmas older sister for a moment.
“Well. Billy’s real mean to me. But I don't think he likes me.” Carl says, squinting over at the boy across the playground who had tormented him over the last two months for literally no reason whatsoever.
Shane had told him last week to punch Billy in the dick but so far he hasn’t worked up the will. The word dick still makes him squeamish, and Lori actually screamed when he had said it by accident the other day.
“No stupid.” Emma laughs at him. “Boys can’t like other boys like that. ”
Carl looks over at her strangely and scrunches up his nose in confusion. He’s not all that sure why boys can't like boys, but he supposes she’s right.
Shane picks him up from school that day, and he asks him about what Emma had told him- asks him if he was supposed to be mean to girls he likes. Shane ruffles his hair with a laugh and a huge grin.
“Don’t you worry about any of that yet, little man.” He chuckles again. “If you’re anything like your pops you won't have to think about any of that for a long time.” He laughs to himself again, and Carl doesn’t know what’s so funny- so he laughs along with him. Shane buys him a milkshake and a double cheeseburger and sits him at his desk across from a man that’s twice his fathers age in handcuffs waiting to be booked. Carl still remembers the hungry look the man had given him that day.
Now looking back, he knows the man wasn’t looking at the cheeseburger in his hand like he had always assumed.
***
They finally take the prison, and he’s just teeming with excitement. He knows his mom is tired. He knows everyones tired. He sees what his dad does, day in and day out, for the group and he knows in some capacity that someday he can be that too for them.
The idea that a prison would be comfortable is a little ridiculous, but it’s also not as bad as some of the places they’ve found themselves in.
“Remember the storage units?” He asks Beth. Beths nice, and sweet, and he’s glad they’ve become friends.
She sits on one of the rather disgusting prison cots, and smiles. “It’s actually- it’s actually pretty comfortable.” She says, with a grin, laying back. That’s why he liked Beth. She always made things seem better than they actually were. What had his dad called her- an optimist . “Check it out!”
He feels like she must be lying, because how can these be comfortable at all? He’s just about to climb up on the bunk above her when he hears a voice behind him.
“You find your cell yet?” Hershel asks, in his normal commanding dad voice. And Carl has no idea why, but he feels suddenly like he’s done something very wrong.
“Yeah, I was just making sure Beth was safe.” He fumbles out, because that’s exactly what he had been doing. Beth was his friend. That’s what friends did for each other. He wonders vaguely what he had done wrong, but he knows better than to stick around.
“See you tomorrow.” He says quietly, wishing he could spend more time with the only friend he has and still musing as to what he had done so wrong. His mom and dad were both so distracted all the time, and Beth had always been there when he needed just someone to chat with.
Honestly- he had felt like his closest friend was always Shane. But he had killed him.
Maybe boys can’t be friends with girls now. He doesn’t know. The rules are always changing.
***
When his dad takes his gun away after he shoots one of the Governors people in the woods with Hershel, he doesn’t understand. It seems like, as always, the rules are changing. He had protected the group. He can hear Shane yelling at him to take a gun and protect his mama. He could protect them, just like he had seen his dad do a million times over.
Apparently, again though, he had done something very wrong, and his brain feels like a Jenga tower that just had a piece taken out of it.
***
“Maybe go to story time.” His dad tells him, a few months later, after they’ve finished planting soybeans.
“Dad- that’s for kids?” He questions, not even thinking about it. His dad is just messing with him, he knows.
“Yeah.” Rick says to him with a little huff of a laugh, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like he’s a kid.
But he’s not, and it’s not obvious.
He thinks back to when he sat with his dad, in Hershel’s barn, and Rick had told him with a firm hand on his shoulder, no more kid stuff so long ago.
He had killed his mom, so he doesn’t feel like a kid. He had killed his mom, and then held Judith in his arms for 3 days straight while he watched his dad chase ghosts, and scream and cry at the air because he couldn’t handle the stress of it all. Carl had sat quietly with Judith, seeing his moms organs being ripped out of her again and again and again and then being handed a screaming, crying bloody Judith. In the moment he resented the small girl for literally tearing his mom apart from the inside out. But still, he sits quietly with her while the others tip toe around him, and look at him with pity.
He killed his mom, so he doesn’t feel like a kid.
But again, he thinks- the rules are always changing.
Maybe it didn’t matter if he was a kid or not, because he’d probably be dead soon anyways he tells himself. Just like his mom, and Shane and the horse he was brushing who was bound to succumb to them, just like everyone else, eventually.
***
One day, when he's out at the gate, he sees Maggie and Glenn kissing. He stares at them, fixated. But he's not focused on Maggie- he realizes that he's focused on Glenn. On his hands, on the way Maggie clings to his sides. He can't tear his eyes away from him. He hears a chuckle behind him, and it's Daryl, who's walking up with his crossbow slung over his shoulder. Daryl says nothing, but the glint in his eye shows that he's amused by the sight of Carl watching.
It's not until later that Carl realizes that he should have been looking at Maggie.
***
“Dad?” Carl asks softly for what feels like the millionth time that day. It takes so much to get his fathers attention these days.
His dad is different. Or maybe Carls different. Or maybe things are just different between the two of them.
Maybe Rick resents him for killing his mom. He wouldn't blame him- he hates himself too.
He misses his dad. So much. Even when he's right next to him. So Carl follows behind him as silently as he can, hungry for any scrap of attention his father may throw his way.
Rick doesn't hear him when he says his name. He's too lost in his own thoughts.
He doesn't regret killing that boy. He knows he should feel bad. Knows that his dad wants to hear that he's remorseful, that he understands what he did was wrong.
The thing is, he's seen adults kill for less. Seen his father kill for less. Not having a gun on him made him feel vulnerable. Made him constantly anxious, made him feel like he was missing a part of him. He couldn't protect himself, let alone anyone else.
But, still. He wants to try for his dad. Wants to be good for him. Wants to earn his respect back- his time, and attention and affection back. It makes him feel rather pitiful, desperate. But he'd do anything for it.
His desperation moves him to try one last time.
“Dad... I'm sorry. I've been trying.” He whispers out, looking down into the water bucket that he's holding. But he has a feeling only the pigs that his father is feeding heard him.
To his shock Rick actually lifts his head and then responds to him. He'd been fully expecting his father to ignore him, to carry on with his work.
“Yeah, I know. And I'm proud.”
Those words shock him. They delight him. His father never expressed anything of the sort, so to hear him say it so clearly…that was everything. He's almost high off of them.
“Dad.” He speaks hesitantly, and he knows he's pushing it, but... “When can I have my gun back?”
The air shifts between them and just like that Carl knows the moment is passed. It's crushing. He definitely knows it's passed when his dad looks down at the pig trough and-
“Worms will give them some extra protein.” Rick mumbles out about the pigs.
Carl, in that moment, wants to scream at him. To just see him.
But his need to be good wins out so he falls silent and does as he's told.
One of these days he's going to break, and his father is going to see the real him. The part of him that wanted to kill that boy, the part of him that's not remorseful, not even one bit. The part of him that he's hiding so that he can manipulate his father into thinking he had changed.
He hasn't.
Something lives inside of him, and It’s dark and it's clawing its way out and he doesn't know how long he can repress it.
He shouldn't like it, knowing that. But part of him does.
***
“He told me the other day that he was proud of me. That I was a good man. I'm not. I know more now. About what he wanted from me. And I tried, but... I still have these thoughts. I'm not what he thinks I am. I'm just another monster, too.”
***
It’s when he’s face down in the dirt, being held down by a rancid man whose breath is hot on his neck, that he understands what is so wrong about not liking girls. Because this is bad .
This is not something he wanted to be a part of.
And the next day, when realization dawns on him exactly what had almost happened to him, when he realizes what that man had wanted from him, he knows how very wrong the small thoughts that had been in the back of his mind since before he could remember were.
This, this is why he’s supposed to like girls. He hears Emmas voice in his head, “No silly. Boys can’t like other boys like that.” And now he understands why.
***
He has dreams, nightly, of the men.
His dad looks at him with pity when he wakes up screaming, but they never talk about it.
After that he knows he’s not a kid. Because children are comforted by their parents after nightmares- adults, though, they deal with it. He knows because his mom and dad had always rushed to his room when he was little. He had asked his dad when he was eight if he ever got nightmares. And Rick said he did, but that he was brave and he knew the nightmares weren’t real and that’s why he never talked to him about them.
So, he reasons, he must not be a kid anymore. Because adults didn’t talk about things like that.
***
When Carl meets Aaron and Eric, he feels like a crucible that’s waiting to explode. He is so very confused as to how two men could be showing affection to each other like that and everyone else was just okay with it, because, what had Emma said- boys can’t like other boys. And if they do, it’s just like what happened on the road to him with them.
He looks around, waiting to see what the others were thinking, but his father doesn’t seem to be put off in the slightest by it. Nor do the others.
On the ride into Alexandria he mulls over what he had seen between the two men. He’s so very confused. and holds Judith to him closely, the whole ride there, and doesn’t say a word. Everyone else chalks it up to his nervousness of going to a new community.
He’s not nervous at all about a new community.
***
Ron introduces him to Enid and Mikey, and he shifts uncomfortably, trying to make sense of everything. The last time he’d seen a video game cord he had used it to tie off the door of a house that him and his half dead father had taken shelter in. The same house where he had given up, and if his father had turned that would have been his last night on earth. The same house that the men who had almost raped him had taken shelter in, too.
He had just recently learned that word. Rape. It's funny to him that something could happen to you and you don't even know there's a word for it.
Sex in general was still such a strange concept to him. He doesn’t understand it, and it seems otherworldly, just like video games had been to him until he came to Alexandria. Something that was out of his reach now that the world had changed. He didn’t understand it, and he didn't really want to understand it.
He sits quietly and plays video games, while Enid side eyes him.
“Pull it together, sport.” She says to him passively.
***
He doesn’t know how, but his existence in the apocalypse is somehow both simultaneously the most lonely thing he could have imagined, yet also- he’s never fucking alone.
He’s never alone until he is. Until he finds himself in a stale bedroom at Alexandria. It’s supposed to be his room now.
He’s been told by others that he’s safe. But he’s also been told by his dad to never let his guard down- that he's never safe.
He doesn't have that luxury. And feeling safe is absolutely a luxury.
And even in that bedroom, inside their cushy suburban home behind the Alexandria walls he still doesn't feel comfortable enough to let himself go. Not even at night, when the house is quiet and everyone else is sleeping and things are still.
One night he’d slipped his hands past his pajama pants without even realizing it. His own hand on his skin was soft, and for the first time he starts to explore his own body. It's a distraction from the constant pain in his eye that haunted him day and night.
He wonders what it would be like to have someone else touch him like this. He tries to imagine who he'd want that to be. He knows who he should want it to be. Knows what was expected of him- and that was for it to be a girl his age. The only one that fit that bill was Enid, but as he thinks of her, he feels... nothing. His mind wanders to someone older. Rosita? He tries to think of her legs, and her tan midriff that was always exposed. He starts thinking about her and Abe. He'd seen them one night, fucking, when they were on the road. They were hard to avoid. The way Abrahams hands fit around the entirety of her waist. And that was...okay, something about that stirred his interest. He starts to think how hands like that would feel on him. How it would feel to be held down, how it would feel- a knock on the door makes him literally jump out of his own skin.
He doesn’t get that comfortable ever again. And he also tries to not think about how he'd been thinking of Abrahams hands and not Rositas legs. He tries to convince himself that it was normal. It's all normal.
He's being smart at least and not letting his guard down at any time like the rest of the idiots in Alexandria that have been tucked behind these walls. Just like his dad had told him.
So. So. When he walks out of his bedroom the morning that he finds Jesus sitting outside of his door and his dad runs out, half naked with Michonne rushing behind him- it's more of a punch to the gut than he could have imagined.
He feels betrayed, and absolutely not because his father had moved on from his long dead mother.
Maybe it's just him, then. Maybe he's just been out there too long, maybe he's too fucked up now at this point.
His father and Michonne- most of their life was lived in relative normalcy. Judith, god willing, would grow up safe behind these walls. She wouldn't have to sleep in the dirt anymore or survive off of dog meat. She'll be too young to remember Terminus, the governor, living in a prison, starving half to death-
Which left him in the in-between. It left him alone.
It left him isolated and starved for anyone who understood his conflicted and confused self.
He goes beyond the walls daily, hoping it can quell that darkness in him but it does nothing. If anything, it fuels it.
***
He kisses Enid because boys can’t like boys and it’s what he’s supposed to do. It’s black and white.
And all in all, he does like Enid. But he likes Enid just like he likes anyone else in Alexandria. He doesn’t quite understand why he kisses her, only that he does, and that he’s certain he’s going to die at the Sanctuary- so it can’t hurt.
He feels nothing.
“Pussy make you feel alive!” He’d heard Abraham exclaim one day.
Is that how Enid was supposed to make him feel?
He doesn’t feel alive, though. He doesn’t feel anything, really. Only adrenaline at the thought of killing Negan.
His plan to kill Negan had at least given him clarity- focus, a drive, something to clear his mind. And that was worth something. Negan had grown from a thorn in his side to an obsession.
He was going to kill him, or he was going to be killed.
It was simple. It was what he was supposed to do. It was black and white.
***
“Seriously? I never do that. I guess a kid firing a machine gun is a little bit of a distraction. All jokes aside, you look rad as hell. I wouldn't cover that shit up. It may not be a hit with the ladies, but I swear to you, no one is gonna screw with you looking like that, no sir.”
Something in him instinctively knows that he's not supposed to like what Negan is telling him so much. He's not supposed to like the way Negan grins at him and he's really not supposed to like it so much when Negans hand comes to rest on him- on his shoulder, his neck, his back. He's been touched more by this man in the last 10 minutes than he has in the last year by every single other person in his life combined.
He's not supposed to like it, he knows.
He wonders if it's normal to notice how Negans hand fits rather perfectly around the entirety of his wrist when he forces a beer into his hand.
He wonders if Negan notices how Carl barely looks at the wives in their little dresses with their long legs but instead how his heart starts to race anytime he catches a glance of Negan instead. And it’s not because he’s worried Negans going to bash his head in. If he was worried about that, after all, he wouldn’t have come here in the first place.
Death doesn’t really scare him. It hasn’t since he was shot that first time. Feeling like this, though? Towards Negan of all people ? That scares him.
Negan moves to stand in front of him as Carl sits anxiously. This entire situation is just….unnerving. If Negan would just threaten him, or say he was going to kill him- that’d be easier than this. The man hooks his thumbs into his belt as he stares down at Carl like he wants to devour him.
Carl can’t help but feel even smaller under his gaze, but at the same time- he feels a heat pooling somewhere….somewhere where he rarely feels anything. He swallows thickly, forcing himself to make his brain work but all he can do is stare at the man in front of him. More precisely, the way the mans jeans bulge, and then his thoughts go back to how his hand fit entirely around his tiny wrist and- all things he knows he shouldn’t notice, shouldn’t be thinking about.
He's not supposed to like it, he knows.
“My girls. Why wouldn’t you look at them before? Too shy? I know you wanted to sneak a peek. Nice tits like those? You don’t see them all that often anymore. Shame.” Negan pauses. He looks down at Carl like he’s a predator ready to pounce. “Or maybe….tits don’t interest you. Maybe you don’t care if that little badass socket of yours isn’t a hit with them. It is to me. Maybe that’s what you care about?”
At that Carls gaze flits up to him, his heart racing even more than it was before and panic wells up in his throat. Negan grins at him, the mans tongue darting out to lick his bottom lick as he stares at him hungrily.
“Oh. Oh ho ho . Did I guess correctly, young man? ”
Carl shakes his head faster than he ever has in his entire life. Because how can Negan know something about him that Carl himself doesn’t even know?
“No. No.” But even to him his whispered denial sounds weak, it sounds like a lie that he knows Negan is going to see right through.
Negan drops down so that he’s crouched right next to him, so that there’s nowhere he can look except right at him. He stares at Carl. So much so that Carl feels like the man can read his every single thought. And fuck, maybe he can, because it seems like Negan’s always ten steps ahead of him.
“You ever touched yourself before?”
Carl scrunches his nose in confusion.
“Whatdoyoumean? ” It tumbles out in a ridiculous, embarrassing question.
Negan sighs extremely dramatically, like Carls whole presence is one big fucking inconvenience to his entire existence, pinching the bridge of his nose before he stares down at him again.
“Touched your dick. Your cock. Made yourself come.” Carls one eye widens with every word the man says. He hadn’t heard anyone talk like that since Merle was around in camp and he was ten. “Do you know anything about sex? Shit, kid. Again. Shit your dads supposed to be teaching you. You know. Wrap your dick ‘fore you get it wet in some pussy. C'mon. Has Rick never talked to you abou t any of this shit ?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Carl finally blurts out angrily. Because, no. No one has. All of his knowledge has been gathered from what he’s seen at camp when people aren’t being discreet and a few overheard conversations that he shouldn't have been listening to.
Negan swipes a hand down the entirety of his face looking rather distraught, looks over at him, and shakes his head.
“You don't like pussy, do you?” Negan asks him suddenly.
Carls face, again, scrunches up in confusion.
“Girls?” Carl asks quietly.
Negans eyeballs look like they're about to actually separate from their sockets.
“Jeee- hee -zhus.” Negan leans over so that he's inches away from him, his tongue darting out between his teeth. “ Two men . You fucking went on a kamikaze rampage through my mother fucking home and machine gunned two of my men and you’ve never even jerked off , have you? You are one confused lil dumb puppy.”
Carl glares at him. No , he wants to scream at him. When would he have had fucking time to do that? Privacy to do that? He’d never even had a want for it, really. Survival had always taken precedence in his brain, and that left room for very little else. And not even his own survival- concern for his family, the group, his sister most of all. Which is precisely how he had found himself sitting here. Trying to protect the others.
“Damn son. You are the gift that keeps on giving.” Negan says, delightedly. His eyes suddenly snap down to Carls jeans.
And he's not supposed to like it- he knows.
“You're hard. You're either hard or you're hiding a pistol in there. But I know Dwight patted you down before. So . You're hard.”
It’s not lost on him how the mans hand drifts down and comes to rest on his knee, his fingers trailing closer to his dick. A firm, reassuring pressure that shouldn’t make him harder than he already is.
He shouldn’t be feeling like this, he knows. It’s one of the very few times in his life he’s been turned on and he feels like he can’t even breathe.
Carl stares resolutely at him. It’s now or never. He literally came in here to kill the man, and if he’s not going to do that then he can at least get answers.
So he finally opens his mouth and asks a question that he’s been wondering for years.
“I don't….I don't get like… this when I think about girls. Ever. It's why I haven't really….” He drifts off, not sure what he wants to say, looking anywhere but at Negan until he does meet his gaze. “Does that make me fucked up?”
Carl expects the man to laugh in his face. Expects him to drag him out in front of the whole damn Sanctuary and parade him around like the freak he is. And he’s scared, suddenly. That thought, for some reason, scares him more than Negan taking Lucille to the other half of his face. But instead Negans face turns rather serious, almost solemn, concerned, and he considers Carl for a moment.
“Who told you that?” It’s not asked angrily. It’s almost soft. Caring, in a weird, strange way that makes his stomach hurt.
Carl shrugs and backtracks quickly. “No- no one did, I just, uh.” He looks down at the ground. “I dunno.”
He really doesn’t know.
Negan shakes his head at him.
“Kid, whatever gets that dick of yours hard is just fine. Tits or cocks or whatever the fuck you want. It doesn't fucking matter.” He stops momentarily. “Well, stay away from animals, I mean if that floats your boat, what the fuck ever I guess, but- no.” He shakes his head yet again and his eyes go wide. “Anyways- no, it sure as hell does not make you fucked up. You're a little cross wired up in that half a noggin’ of yours for entirely other reasons, sure . But that- no.”
The mans eyes dart down to Carls jeans, which are still embarrassingly tented up. Carl actually wants to jump out the window to save himself from this horrible situation. Negan absolutely delights in how uncomfortable he is.
“You want help with that little problem of yours?” Negan asks with a huge fucking grin.
Carl shakes his head.
“Fine.” Negan shrugs extremely dramatically, like he was a true gift from god that Carl was giving up. “Your loss.”
But seeing the man walk away from him makes him feel like the world is caving in around him. He feels like he might actually die if he's left like this.
“What- I. Um.” Are the words that leave him. Carls lost.
Negan sighs dramatically. “Kid, spit it the fuck out.”
“I…..Yes?” He finally says. He feels like he's just offered himself up to Negan on a silver fucking platter. But his brain isn’t working like it normally does. It feels cloudy, and fuzzy, like all of his thoughts are being channeled straight down to his dick because the man in front of him is fucking intoxicating.
Negan turns around and stalks back to him with that shitty grin on his face that Carls come to associate with being trapped.
But he's not trapped. He wants this. Shit- he really fucking wants this.
He wants Negans attention. He wants to impress him. He'll do anything for it in that moment. He'll even-
“Please.” Carl hears himself whisper out, though it sounds like it's someone else entirely speaking.
He’s begging. Fuck, he’s begging, and he doesn’t even know what he’s begging him for.
The grin that spreads across Negans face is unmatched. He leans back in his absolutely ridiculous way before he speaks next.
“Well.” He bites his lip delightedly. “Look at. that. We do have manners.” He takes a step forward and then crouches closer to Carl before he speaks next. “ Good. Fucking. Boy.”
And he's not supposed to like it- he knows.
Carls brain ceases to exist after that. It's like any rational thought he may have ever had is gone and is replaced with those words and those words alone. A puff of air leaves him as a whine that Carl can't believe came from his own self and he looks up at the man under his mess of hair.
Negans hand goes right to his chin, his thumb caressing the skin there in the gentlest little circles that someone as rough as Negan shouldn't even be capable of, right below his lip. Carl understands what he wants and opens his mouth for him as Negan chuckles and slips his finger in, running it all over his teeth and humming out his approval. It's all too much and it makes him actually chase the small amount of friction that his jeans are giving him and ruts forward.
“Look at you.” Negan whispers with a certain awe in his voice. “So obedient now. You’re gonna be so much fun once you’re broken in.”
Carl- just to be a shit- clamps down on his finger immediately, a canine digging into flesh. Negan hisses at him but doesn’t withdraw his hand and then he chuckles.
“You’re a feisty little shit. Maybe I'll keep you. Maybe I don’t even want to break you. Maybe you’re already fun, just the way you are, huh?” He whispers to him sweetly.
Without warning Negans hand finally slides down to the bulge of his jeans and squeezes his cock through the fabric. Carls lets out a gasp at the unexpected contact.
And, oh. Finally. Finally.
“C’mon.” Negan whispers to him, his hand going to Carls zipper. “Lemme see that cute little dick of yours.”
And fuck- he's not supposed to like it, he knows.
Negan doesn’t even give him a chance to respond. His hands quickly unbutton his jeans and before he knows it they’re unzipped and Negans hand is finally- finally on his dick. The feeling of skin on skin- even if it’s just the mans hand- is indescribably good. Without even realizing it he ruts up into his hand, chasing the contact and Negan chuckles at him and hums out his approval.
“Good boy.” Negan whispers again softly in his ear. something lights up at him at that. “You want this. I know you do.”
Carls lost in the sight of the mans hand around his dick, which can wrap around the majority of his length because he’s been stunted in pretty much every way possible from living on scraps during the entirety of his formative years.
But that’s just fine, because the sight is intoxicating. The way the man can devour him in every single way- it’s what he’s always wanted without even knowing it. He’d wanted this for so long, and now he doesn’t know why he’s never chased this feeling, why he's been fighting it for so long. But maybe it was okay to shut off his brain for once, maybe this was all okay. He's been so hardwired for survival and survival alone for so long but maybe-
“It’s okay.” Negan says gently into his ear, and it’s like he’s inside Carls brain. “It’s okay to want to feel good, Carl. To make yourself feel good.” The hand that isn’t on his dick goes to the side of his face, right where his wound starts, and he makes Carl look at him. “Think you deserve a little good after everything, don’t you think?”
Negans face goes serious for a moment, and it almost looks like concern .
“Are you still in pain? From this?”
Carl actually has to think about it for a moment. Because, yes. He is. It's constant and unrelenting but at this point he's gotten used to it. It's changed over the last two months from being almost unbearable to now a dull constant ache but it's still there.
So he just nods.
“Let me take it away.” Negan whispers to him. “Let me take care of you, Carl. Have a feeling that doesn't happen very often, does it?”
No. No, it doesn't. But how did Negan know that? How could he possibly know that? Is Carl that needy and transparent?
But he cant fight it any longer. Negan sits on the couch and gestures for Carl to sit in his lap, but when he does so he faces Carl away from him. He feels ridiculous, his pants undone and his dick out while Negan was fully put together, but then the man nibbles the side of his neck and he instantly feels more relaxed.
Negan grabs Carls hand and holds it in front of his own face.
"Spit." The man says. Carls eye raises. What?
"In...my hand?"
He can actually feel Negan roll his eyes from behind him.
"Christ. Yes, Carl."
Carl honestly has no idea what he's talking about, so he does as he's told and he hears a low chuckle from behind him.
Negan makes him put his own hand on his dick and then covers Carls hand with his own. And shit- Negans hand is so much larger than his that his disappears under it and that- that makes heat pool in his stomach and he doesn't know why. He starts to move their hands together, jerking him off slowly and showing him what might feel good. Carls head falls back onto Negans shoulder suddenly, and apparently it’s what the man wanted because he hums out his approval.
“That’s it. Like that . Like that, baby. You just do what feels good to you, alright? Whatever feels good.” Negan murmurs softly into his ear.
It's a feeling he's been chasing for so long. To be able to forget everything momentarily. It's a high, something he's only felt when he was just trying to survive and his brain had to compartmentalize all his other problems. This…. this was like that, only so much better.
“It all feels good. E-everything feels good.” Carl whispers out, to no one in particular, but Negan chuckles against his neck.
“You’re such a good boy, Carl. ” Negan murmurs, his lips on Carls pulse point and he shivers at the feeling, running his thumb over the head of Carls cock and hitting a particularly sensitive spot. “You’ve wanted this for so long, haven’t you?”
Carls answer is a needy whine from the back of his throat. Yes. Yes, he has.
“You can be my good boy, Carl.”
And fuck. Its all too much at once and Carl lets out a moan that surprises even him. He’s going to come, he's going to-
But then just like that Negan withdraws his hand suddenly and pushes him to the floor, and when Carl looks up at him in a heap of utter confusion the mans face is even and emotionless.
A very desperate whine escapes him at the sudden loss of contact. He’d been so close to completely losing himself, he was chasing a high, he had to come-
“Two men. Two men.” Negan says lowly, his entire demeanor changing instantly. “This is a punishment, young man. Did you forget that? I certainly didn’t.”
He grabs Carl off the floor and tucks his throbbing dick back into his jeans and zips them up, Carl losing all rational thought. It’s almost painful having his cock back in the confines of his jeans.
“I- wh-” Carl cries out, almost desperately.
“No. You don’t get to come.” Negan says firmly with a condescending pat to the cheek to top it all off, and Carl immediately knows that there’s no fighting this. He’s almost moved to tears with how bad he wants to get off.
Negans hand goes to his chin again and he makes Carl look at him, squeezing his jaw.
“You wanna come back here and be treated to a good time? You go right ahead, kid. That was just a teaser. You did put on a cute lil show for me.” He pauses, his eyes trailing down Carls body. “I can make you feel so much more. Better than you’ve ever felt in your whole damn life. Honestly- you're adorable and I like you enough to almost want to say fuck it and give all of that to you right now, but like I said before this is a punishment. But next time…next time I can make it so good for you, baby.” His voice drops to that soft timbre that had gotten him into this fucking situation in the first place.
Carl tries to not go weak at those words but he can’t fucking help it.
“Yeah. You know it, too.” The man rolls out smoothly. He bites Carls cheek suddenly, his canine breaking the soft flesh there. “I want you to go home to your daddys house and touch yourself every fuckin’ chance you get. Jerk that lil cock of yours good. And you think about how good it’s going to be to have me fuckin’ that tight little virgin ass of yours open.” His hands wrap around Carls sides, almost completely encircling him and eliciting a little gasp from him. Negan chuckles at him affectionately.
“Fuck, you’re so damn tiny. My cocks gonna be so deep inside of you that you’re gonna be able to feel me right through you. See my cock blugin’ out of that little belly of yours.” Negan grabs Carls hand and pushes it into stomach. “Does your daddy know how good of a boy you can be? How good you want to be for him? I bet he does, Carl.”
And that’s it. Carls done for. He’s never been more fucked in his entire life. He comes untouched instantly, feeling it first build in his spine and then all the way down to his toes. He lets out a loud, low moan and bites down into Negan's shoulder without even realizing it. It was the best damn thing he’s ever felt in his entire life.
And then, for just a few moments, everything is quiet. His vision actually whites out and everything is bright and fuzzy and warm. He feels an overwhelming calm spread over him, and he lays his head on the mans shoulder because it feels right and it’s what he wants right now. And surprisingly he’s not pushed away.
He's not in pain. For the first time since he lost his eye he's not in any pain , and all he can feel is warmth spreading through every part of him. He smiles into Negans shoulder and the smallest little sob of relief leaves him.
“Shh, shh, I got you, Carl.”
Maybe this was supposed to all be a punishment but when Carl comes to he’s instantly aware that Negans hand is running little circles on the back of his neck and down his spine almost comfortingly.
“You back with me, kid?” Negan whispers softly into Carls ear before he lays just the quickest, most chaste kiss to his temple. Carl sighs and nods into his shoulder, and Negan lets him lay there for a few moments longer and collect himself. The man may be an asshole to him but in no way has been cruel. He's honestly been more than fair.
Once Carls righted himself Negans hand slides down his stomach, trailing a hand into Carls jeans, and he grins.
“Oh yeah . That’s gonna be a sticky, sucky long ass ride home for you, huh? ” He says, with a cheeky bite to his lip. He moves his hand that’s now coated in come up to Carl’s lips, who makes a face at him but he gets the hint. He opens his mouth slowly and Negan slips his fingers in, making Carl taste himself. He wants to be good, so it’s only a moment before he starts sucking on the fingers in his mouth like he thinks Negan wants.
“Mmm.” Negan hums to him and then ducks in to kiss him, a hand going to his chin to hold him firmly in place as he licks into Carls mouth like he wants a taste of him, too.
When he pulls away the hand on his chin tilts his face up so Carls looking right at him. He grabs Carls hat off the desk next to him, throws it on his head and flicks at it for good measure.
“C’mon. Your daddy’s waitin’ for us at home.” And he winks at him and walks off like absolutely nothing transpired here.
And Carls not supposed to like it. Any of it. But he does.
***
When he gets up to his room later there's a walkie there and a note on his bed.
There's going to be a next time.
And Carls not supposed to like it. Any of it. But he does.
|
You're a very pretty thing
You remind me of someone
You must have heard some awful nasty things about me, but
What I can do for you
There's no one else on God's green earth can do
You're never gonna make it
All by yourself
You're gonna need a friend
You're gonna need my help
I have so much to offer
If you just be nice
If you do what I say
And don't make me say it twice
Just ask anybody
They'll tell you that it's true
There's no one else on earth
Can do the things that I can do for you