Chapter Text
“We had an agreement—”
“Rick!” Negan’s face lit up, a jarring contradiction to the surrounding carnage. “Look everybody, it’s Rick!”
Rick’s chest heaved, his mind reeling as he frantically struggled to grasp the situation. Negan spoke at him with gusto, in that chipper tone of his that could easily turn deadly. The pool table was oddly out of place, sat in the middle of the street behind Negan. Spencer laid in his own viscera at the base. In the other direction, his son hunched over Olivia’s lifeless body. Nausea stirred with growing anger.
“Rick,” Negan’s voice softened, drawing Rick back out of his thoughts. Negan leaned closer, towering over him as he took in Rick’s weary state. Rick was forced to tilt his head back to meet his eyes. Negan smiled, as if fond. He was clean shaven. It was jarring, almost as out of place as the dead around them. It felt wrong to notice. “How ‘bout a thank you?”
Rick’s breath fell short of filling his lungs. The words didn’t make sense.
“I mean look, I know we started this relationship with me beating the holy shit out of your friends, and because of that we’re never gonna sit around and braid each other’s hair or share our deepest darkest secrets, but how about a little credit?” His voice crescendoed, and Rick stumbled back reflexively. “I just bent over backwards to show you how reasonable I am!”
Two dead didn’t feel reasonable. Rosita on the ground, a gun in her face, didn’t feel reasonable. But he had to contain his outrage and appease the monster until he was gone and Alexandria was safe.
“Your kid? He hid in one of my trucks and machine-gunned a bunch of my men down and I brought him home—”
Negan’s words were quickly clouded by Rick’s single-minded panic. He turned to Carl in disbelief. His son, who could have — who honestly should have — died. And Rick wouldn’t have been able to do a thing. Had he even known Carl was gone? After surviving years of hell, his son nearly threw it all away on a senseless suicide mission.
“Another one of your people, well he wanted me to kill you, and put him in charge.” Rick’s gaze cast downward to Spencer. “I took him out, for you.” Negan sounded proud, like his actions should impress Rick.
Why? What loyalty did Negan owe to Rick? As Negan carried on monologuing, Rick caught words, phrases, but little made sense. Rosita… shot at him? She evidently did a lousy job — Negan was unscathed. Then Olivia. Why Olivia? She posed no threat, never had and never would. Why was Carl still alive? Why had Negan chosen Rick over Spencer? Rick had made it clear he would kill Negan one day; he doubted Spencer shared a similar sentiment.
Rick wasn’t sure when Negan had stopped talking, but the man smiled, giddy, awaiting Rick’s reply. What could he say? There was no room for accusation here. No justice to be found, no deal struck. Rick just wanted him gone. He gathered himself as best he could and stepped forward. Negan’s excitement grew.
“Your shit’s waiting for you at the gate, just go.” It wasn’t quite begging, but the exhaustion in his voice was unmistakable. He may as well have gotten on his knees and groveled. Again.
Negan’s brows furrowed, lips pursed in a pout. “After I’ve waited all day for you? Rick…” his tone was eerily soft, “You don’t seem happy to see me.”
Silence lingered, an open opportunity for Rick to respond, to assure him of his devotion. Instead, he just glared. It wasn’t the deadly glare that needed correction, no, it was a deliciously fearful one. Negan stepped forward, just to watch Rick stumble back, no longer meeting his gaze. “I am hurt. And here I was, missing you. Don’t I look foolish, huh?” He ran a hand along the handle of Lucille, a gentle caress, but it still made Rick tremble. Rick — the man who had previously cowered to no one, who had the balls to take out an entire outpost — now feared and revered Negan. He gripped Lucille firmer. It was so… arousing. Desperate, scared Rick. Seething and yet pushing all that anger down for him. Rick, who belonged to him. Perhaps he needed a reminder.
“I rather liked my little domestic getaway to Alexandria. It’s a lovely spot, as long as I’m not getting shot at,” he spat, vexed, towards Rosita. “Arat, find out who made the damn bullet. No, Rick,” he turned his attention back to Rick, the attempt on his life merely an aside. “I’m not ready to leave quite yet.”
Negan slung an arm around Rick’s shoulder, urging him through the crowd of his people. Rick didn’t dare look at them, he kept his eyes forward, taking long, slow breaths. His frayed nerves were nearing their breaking point, and Rick wasn’t sure if he would rip Negan’s throat out or simply weep. “Let’s start with all that stuff you brought me, hmm?”
---
Negan watched Rick load up the supplies. The others were still… preoccupied, so Rick worked alone, the ache of his body secondary to the task at hand. Negan didn’t help, propped up against one of the trucks, arms crossed and ever jovial. He offered encouragement, sometimes praise, with each trip to and fro.
Rick startled, nearly losing his grip on the crate, when Negan slapped his backside. “Lift with your legs, not your back,” Negan leered, “your glutes could use the work.” Rick whipped his head around to Negan, who wore a shit-eating grin, as if baiting Rick to lash out. Then he gave a curt nod to the rest of the supplies — an order to get back to work. Rick grit his teeth and carried on, self-conscious of his form and Negan’s lingering gaze. It felt almost lecherous, leaving him uneasy.
Negan wasn’t ready to leave after that. No, he had waited so long, he said, that he ought to at least spend as much time with Rick as he had waiting. However long that may be, Rick didn’t know. Didn’t dare to ask, either.
Negan wanted to be “shown the sights.” Rick obliged, walking him through the community and telling the occasional story when prompted. Negan often walked just a bit too close to Rick, sometimes brushing up against him, grinning and biting his lip when Rick would pull away.
The mess on the street had been cleaned when they passed by, though it seemed the dark stain of Spencer’s guts was a more permanent addition to the community. The streets were uncommonly empty as the sun began to set. Everyone must’ve been holed away, keeping their distance from Negan. Rick wished he could do the same, but the taller man showed no intention of leaving anytime soon. Instead, Negan insisted on rounding up “their youngin’s” for family dinner. One afternoon with Carl and Negan was decidedly a part of the family.
---
The clatter of utensils made up for the lack of conversation. Negan talked, of course, charismatic as ever. He was sometimes met with Judith’s babbling or muttered concessions from Rick. Judith seemed pleased with him, cooing and laughing at his over-the-top mannerisms.
“Damn, she is a cutie. Must be tough, raising them all alone. Daddy Negan’s here now!” Negan flashed a grin at Judith, who giggled, then to Carl, who kept his eye trained on his plate. His knuckles were white, gripping the silverware in his hands with trembling ferocity. “I even taught young Carl how to shave!”
That explained Negan's clean-shaven face. Rick could make out his feature’s better, his strong chin and worn lines of his face. He was, unfortunately, handsome. He had always been, but with first introductions being what they were, Rick hadn’t thought to consider the man’s looks. The change had brought attention to it. It was unfortunate, but inconsequential.
“I’ll be the father figure he never had, and Rick, you can keep being mommy!”
Rick bit his tongue. Outrage risked lives, he had learned that early on.
Carl hadn’t learned restraint yet. “My dad—!”
“Carl!” Rick snapped, silencing him. “It’s ok. It’s ok.”
Negan shared a colluding look with Rick, his grin stretching wide. “Atta girl. Would you be a dear and put Judith to bed? It’s getting to be that time.”
Anything to get some distance between her and Negan. It was hard, knowing his son’s image of him was shattering, but there were more important things at stake. Rick lifted his daughter, propped securely on his hip, and as he carried her away she waved goodbye to Negan. He was grateful to get a reprieve from Negan, even for a minute.
Negan and Carl remained, sat in tense silence. If looks could kill, Carl wouldn’t have needed that machine gun. Negan grinned back, holding his gaze as time stretched uncomfortably before them, until finally leaning forward to speak, voice hushed. “Now kid, mommy and daddy are gonna need some alone time tonight. You’re old enough to understand that, yeah?”
Carl’s eye widened, face paling at the insinuation.
“I’d suggest scramming if you don’t want to hear us, well, y’know. Capiche?”
He nodded. That earned him a pat on the shoulder, as if they had just conspired together. Carl shifted his attention back to the remaining scraps on his plate. Then to the knife next to it. He was careful, going in for another bite as his hand crept towards the knife. Picking up the knife was innocent enough at a dinner table if it wasn't for the searing rage overpowering his features. Negan watched knowingly. Carl met his eyes.
“Don’t try anything stupid. I know, I know, it’s a lot to take in, the whole ‘I’m gonna fuck your dad’ thing. But don’t make me kill you, or god forbid, sweet Judith!” Negan gripped Carl’s wrist, tightening his hold until the knife clattered on the table. “I promise I’ll show him a good time. Now hurry along.”
The grip relinquished, and Carl stood slowly in dismay. It felt wrong to abandon his father to that man. Negan’s expression darkened. His threat still hung in the air, a possibility so long as Carl lingered.
---
When Rick returned to the dining table, Carl was gone. “Where—”
Negan cut him off before he could fully form the question. “Went off to visit his girlfriend or something, and what can I say, I guess I’m the cool dad.” He got up from his seat, stretching and grunting at the popping of his stiff joints. “Got anything good to drink around here?”
They didn’t, nothing good at least, but Rick had a few beers stashed away. Old, cheap, stale stuff, but that satisfied Negan well enough. He fell back into the sofa, beer in hand, and nodded for Rick to join him. When he did, Negan shifted closer, legs sprawled so their knees touched.
“You’ve got some good kids, Rick,” Negan said, his eyes fixed on the man beside him. Rick tensed at the mention of his kids. The whole ‘family’ ruse confused him. Clearly Negan meant to humiliate him, but it was such an odd way to go about it.
“I do.”
“And you’ve been without their momma for what, a couple years now? How old is Judith?” Negan hummed, mockingly sympathetic to his loss. Their faces were too close for comfort. “Such a shame.” Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Rick, was she the last person you fucked? Has it been years?” A hand settled on his thigh. It could easily be mistaken as an advance, the way it lingered, the topic at hand.
Rick remained silent. Negan didn’t know about him and Michonne, and he wouldn’t. He must’ve taken the silence to be a yes, however, and he beamed at the idea. “Poor Rick! Oh, I cannot imagine going that long.” The hand on his thigh gave him a friendly pat and receded.
Negan had been full of insinuations and lustful comments. Was the intent solely to belittle? To emasculate? He didn’t seem the sort to actually desire Rick. Surely he didn’t.
Negan prattled on, telling Rick about his day with Carl and feigning grief at mentions of Olivia. He told Rick how he’d wanted to fuck her, and how when she slapped him, he did nothing to retaliate. “See? Reasonable! Now, I wouldn’t normally go for the fat ones, but you weren’t back and all this frustration has me pent up. And when you think about it, fat ones are a rarer commodity now!” It was disgusting, Negan lamenting not getting to fuck her. Rick didn’t risk saying so. He never said more than he had to.
The beers ran dry pretty quickly. “Damn, ain’t that sad?” Negan held his bottle upside down, one drop lingering on the opening. “Anyway, I s’pose it’s about time to call it a night. Where’s your room?”
He stilled. “You’re staying here?”
“You don’t expect me to head back now, d’you? In the dead of the night? Hell, I could die out there!” Negan got up, tossing his empty bottle aside. “Lead the way, Rick!”
It wasn’t so much a surprise that Negan was staying the night. It was late, after all. What shocked Rick was that he was staying in his home, in his room. There were other places Rick could stay, sure. The sofa, for one. Carl’s room. But it wasn’t as if his usual room was luxurious, surely Negan had something better elsewhere. He could only hope the conditions would make Negan reconsider.
Rick led him up the stairs, his back warm under Negan’s gaze. That discomfort returned. Not that it had ever fully left, but he had been able to push it to the back of his mind. Leading this man to his bedroom, however, felt intimate. When Rick opened the door, he let Negan in first, just to get those eyes off of him for a minute.
Negan laughed at the room that greeted him. “Oh, Rick, I had forgotten — you’ve been sleeping on a little blanket pile since we took your mattresses? How quaint, how's your back been treating you?”
“I’ve managed.”
“Well aren’t you resilient.” Negan slid his jacket off, then peeled his t-shirt over his head, his muscled back on display for Rick. He watched, startled. He hadn’t been ready for the sudden disrobing. There was no vulnerability in Negan’s exposed state; his nudeness was intimidating, as if it staked a territorial claim.
Rick averted his eyes as the pants came off. It was time to leave. He cleared his throat. “I’ll just,” he began to close the door, awaiting his approval before shutting it completely.
“Where are you going, Rick?”
Rick halted, eyes flitting back to Negan. He laid amongst the blankets, stripped to his briefs and propped up on his arm, legs splayed open. “Join me. It’s only natural for mommy and daddy to sleep together.”
Oh. Oh. Rick hadn’t meant for his eyes to drift to Negan’s groin. In all fairness, it was the only clothed portion of him. Negan was aroused, that much was clear from the impressive bulge barely contained by his straining briefs.
The innuendos, the ‘accidental’ proximity, the family charade… of course it would culminate to this. Rick hadn’t wanted to believe, hadn’t even dared to fathom that Negan really desired him. Rage bubbled within him. How much would be enough? He had submitted to Negan, agreed to his unreasonable demands, bowed his damned head when he should’ve ripped his throat out! Now his dignity?
Negan still smiled, but his tone darkened. “Don’t keep me waiting, Rick.”
Rick would submit. Of course he would. Negan knew it, Rick knew it. A sacrifice, he told himself, to keep the beast at bay. Deep within him, past the anger and dread, was a blood-curdling excitement. It sickened him, how his heart skipped a beat as he approached.
He joined Negan on the ground, fully clothed and angled away. Blankets rustled, and he felt the telltale shifting as Negan shimmied closer, bridging the space between them. “Now that can’t be comfortable, darlin,” Negan murmured, voice low, the heat of his body radiating against Rick’s back relentlessly. An arm snaked around his waist, and Rick looked down to see it carefully undoing his belt. Negan’s touch was gentler than expected, meticulous and patient as he pulled the belt through the pant loops and undid his fly. It was sensual, and consequently worse than the ruthless ripping of clothes Rick might have anticipated. Maybe Negan knew that, maybe that was why. Or maybe Negan simply liked playing house.
Rick lifted his hips as Negan slid the pants from his legs, earning an appreciative chuckle right against his ear. Something hard pressed against his ass, the worn fabric of their underwear the only barrier between them. “I’ve been away so long… I missed you, dear.” He slipped a hand under the hem of Rick’s shirt, ghosting along his midriff. “I bet you were lonely.”
The touch disgusted him, the pressure of Negan grinding against him, the heat of it. It was as erotic as it was disgusting. Slow, calculated — Negan was toying with him. “Were you lonely Rick? Did you miss me?”
If he defied the man, would that still please him? Did Rick want to please him? He wouldn’t be surprised if Negan liked a little feistiness. Rick was worn down, however, exhausted from the hellish day that divulged into this hellish night. Why resist when he had already lost so much? When he had already decided to give in?
“Yes.” His voice broke, hoarse, surprising himself. He was quiet, but Negan heard, wrapping his arms around him tighter and digging his hips into his backside.
“I’m going to make it up to you.” Lips brushed the nape of his neck as rough hands wandered higher. “I’m going to fuck you good.”
Rick shivered. He could feel the lips against his neck open wider to suckle and nip at his sensitive skin. His shirt was pushed up past his collar bone, exposing his skin to the cool night air. His nipples hardened, though Rick couldn't tell if it was from the chill in the air or the pooling arousal in his belly from Negan’s touch. His cock twitched.
Rick had been with men before, long ago, before Lori. Sticky fumblings from his police academy days, hidden away in utility closets and the backs of cars. It was a dirty secret at the time, something to get out of his system and move past. Not a life he could live. And he liked women, liked Lori. He liked — he cut off the thought. He dared not think of her now. Those likes had never overridden his desires from long ago; they coexisted, in tandem within him. Those wants… they remained a part of him. Negan proved that now.
A pleased hum vibrated against him, Negan’s hand slipping down to cup his groin. “Oh, you really meant that, didn’t you, Rick?” The hand squeezed. “You should’ve said so sooner.”
Rick held back a retort. He feared if he opened his mouth, his voice would betray him. Though he supposed his hardening cock had already done that. “Rick,” his voice had lowered, a murmur, raspy with arousal. He kissed along the side of his jaw. “Turn your head.”
He obeyed. For the first time since laying beside him, Rick got a good look at Negan. His face was flushed, pupils dilated as they flit to and fro across Rick’s face until they found what they sought. His eyes locked on Rick’s mouth. Negan’s own lips opened expectantly, breath hot against Rick’s face as he came nearer, encouraging Rick’s mouth open. He gave way easily.
When Rick’s eyes flit shut, his senses were amplified. Negan’s mouth on his, wet, demanding, practically panting. It devoured him. The hard cock pressed against his ass, the hand softly cupping his balls, the deft fingers teasing his chest — it was overwhelming. With his eyes closed and his brain off, Rick could almost enjoy it.
Rick moved his jaw in tandem with Negan’s and didn’t stifle his moan. Though muffled by the kiss, he knew Negan would hear it. Knew Negan would like it, too. The lips on his formed a smile, pulling back just enough to speak.
“What a gorgeous slut you are. Even Olivia put up more resistance than you.”
The warmth in his belly was replaced by a bitter chill, Negan’s words a cruel reminder of just the kind of man he was. Those hands were still on him, caressing him, and Rick tensed. His own complacency sickened him.
“Oh, Rick, I’m sorry,” Negan had taken note of his discomfort. The hand on his chest began to rub soothing circles against his sternum. “I shouldn’t call my wife a slut, I know you wouldn’t act like this with anyone else.” Negan started placing gentle kisses near his mouth. “I won’t call you anymore mean names.”
The hands continued their groping. Negan lapped against Rick’s mouth, but it stayed firmly shut. Not so much out of defiance, but purely on instinct. If Rick’s mind was clear, he would obey the man entirely. The reminder of Olivia, which in turn reminded him of the others, had rattled his head.
“Kiss me, Rick.” Negan wasn’t asking.
He opened his mouth, letting Negan in, reciprocating the hunger of Negan’s kiss. The kiss was possessive, a claim, and escalated to an animalistic act. Negan gripped the back of his head, keeping him in place, and bit Rick’s lip. He groaned at the pain, but Negan was quickly suckling at the wound, soothing it, and claiming Rick’s mouth once more. Rick struggled to keep up, growing lightheaded and dizzy from the incessant kiss. A welcome haze began to fill his head.
When Negan started peeling Rick’s shirt off, he lifted his arms in compliance. It joined his pants in the corner of the room. Fingers dipped into his waistband, an unspoken instruction, and Rick lifted his hips once more. Negan gave an approving hum, and in one swift move Rick was nude, splayed out on display for the leader of the Saviors.
“Beautiful.”
The praise sent a shiver down Rick’s spine.
Negan hitched Rick’s leg up; Rick felt himself redden with shame as he hardened from the exposure. The heat was back in his belly. He could feel Negan’s clothed erection laying against his inner thigh. A finger, slicked with something, trailed towards his hole, and his cock jumped in response. “Someone’s interested,” Negan teased, pressing his fingertip along the rim but not yet entering.
Negan kissed along the nape of his neck as he tormented him, enjoying how Rick trembled at his touch. He inserted the first finger agonizingly slow, muttering praise as Rick took it. It was a strange feeling, after going so long without. Almost foreign. Negan fucked into him with just the one, rubbing along his insides with a steady pressure. “That’s it, honey, let me in.” Negan purred, nudging a second in. The stretch was pleasant, nostalgic, in a way. “Good girl.” It was humiliating, the praise. The way it made him feel. Giddy. It had been too long, that was all. It wasn’t Negan he desired, but the touch of a man, any man.
“You know, Rick,” Negan murmured, mouthing at his ear, “I’m almost tempted to take you back with me. Fuck you everyday to make up for all that lost time. I’ve been wanting this, oh, since laying eyes on you.” A third finger joined. “But I knew you’d need time. Didn’t want to come on too strong, an’ all that.” The thrusts of his hand were rhythmic, squelching every time they entered. It was a horrid sound, like something out of a porno, not a sound that should come from Rick’s body. Entirely too much lube coated his entrance and dribbled down his ass.
“You’re different than my other wives, Rick. They’re… I suppose they’re more like a harem. Oh, don’t be jealous. You? I respect you, Rick.” Negan struck his prostate deliberately, smiling at the moan he wrought out of Rick. “You could be my equal. Fight side by side with me, lead with me,” Rick’s legs shook with each thrust, taking three of Negan’s fingers smoothly, “and get fucked silly every night.”
“The hell are you talking about?” Rick managed to get out amidst the suppressed moans.
“Now, now, I know you’re not there quite yet. That’s alright.” Negan slipped his fingers out, adjusting to slide down his own briefs, finally. The vulgar sound of flesh on flesh filled Rick’s ears as Negan coated his dick in lube. The head pressed against his hole, an unrelenting pressure stopping just short of entering. “These things take time, I know. I’m just putting the idea in you.” Negan chuckled to himself, “Amongst other things.” He pressed in, past the tight ring of muscle that gave way eagerly. Rick whined, long and low, instinctively spreading his legs wider. “Don’t worry that pretty head, just enjoy this.”
The fullness was overwhelming. Rick wanted to sob. Negan’s voice continued to sooth him, a low hum in his ear, reassuring and praising him. They lay still for a moment as Rick grew used to the length. Negan ran his hand along his navel, pressing gently, and then gripped his hip as he began to move. Rick gasped, the drag of Negan’s cock bringing a startling pleasure.
His other hand weaved into Rick’s hair, tugging lightly to turn his head, granting him access to kiss Rick. Negan’s kissing was unrefined, but perhaps that’s what made it so fiery. He began to fuck Rick with a steady pace, shallow thrusts that brushed just before his prostate. It was becoming harder to stifle his moans.
“How is it, Rick?” Negan’s voice dripped with honey.
He struggled to put together the words. Negan had released his hair, choosing to fondle his chest instead, sending jolts of pleasure to his groin when he pulled his nipples. “It’s, hah, it’s a lot,” he sighed, breathless, “It’s good.”
Negan looked at him with half-lidded eyes, breathless himself, slowly coming undone. “Call my name, Rick. Tell me how good I make you feel.” His thrusts were deeper, faster, bliss erupting as he hit his prostate.
Rick grasped at the blankets beneath him, scrabbling for purchase. “Mnn, Negan, feels good. You feel,” His hand landed on Negan’s arm, and Rick latched on, “so good, Negan!” The shame was still present. It was true, Negan filled him up just right, and his thoughts grew distant, but the shame remained ever present which each new wave of pleasure. He shouldn’t be crying out for this man, moaning on his cock. His praise shouldn’t make Rick’s stomach jump. This act, to sleep with that man, should be torment. He should want it to end.
“Negan,” He choked, pawing at the man behind him, “more. Faster.” He slowed instead, fighting to steady his breath as he pulled out. “Negan — ” Rick whined, empty. When Negan withdrew, Rick realized how cold he was without his heat.
“Hold tight, honey,” Negan cooed, rolling him over on his back. He nestled between his legs, gazing down at him from up above. “I want to see your face when you cum on my cock.” A hand encircled each of Rick’s ankles, gradually pushing his legs apart and back, folding him as far as he would go. Rick was not particularly flexible. Negan lined himself up, then looked directly into Rick’s eyes as he slid back in. Rick’s cock leaked onto his belly.
Negan started slow again, rocking into Rick with strong, measured thrusts. His sensitivity was heightened like this, pushed down by the weight of the other man, trapped under his ever watchful eye. “So good for me, Rick,” Negan hissed, a smile ghosting over his lips. His words deteriorated to moans. He upped the pace, steady now, fast enough to make Rick’s cock jump with every impact.
The new pace destabilized Rick, unsure of what to hold as his whole body rocked in time with Negan. From above, Negan noticed his hands grasping fruitlessly, and he seized the opportunity, guiding Rick’s hands to his knees. The image underneath him was dizzyingly erotic. Proud Rick, on his back, panting and eyes wet with tears as he held his legs open for Negan. Yes, Negan could certainly get used to this. Maybe he’d bring Rick a bed, just for his visits. He could fuck him proper that way, go all out without fear of wearing out Rick’s body too badly.
Negan grew impatient. He was done stretching this out. He bottomed out, and Rick took all of him so well, enveloping him completely in tight heat. He cried out prettily too, voice breaking on his name. When he moved, Rick trembled beneath him, mouth agape. Negan was deliberate, aiming strong, quick thrusts for Rick’s prostate. Rick rewarded him with sobs of pleasure, toes curling as the ecstasy grew. Though still untouched, Rick’s cock was achingly hard and leaking. His balls tensed, and Negan could tell he was fighting off his orgasm.
He maintained the pace. “You can cum, Rick,” he assured, nearing his own finish. He wanted Rick to finish first. Negan felt superior lasting longer, and accomplished when he pleased his partners. Especially so with Rick. His movements turned frantic, forceful, as he chased release. “Cum for me.”
“Negan,” Rick panted, unsure of what to say to the man atop him. “Negan, I, you — fuck!” He came undone, shooting over his chest and shaking, a guttural cry ripped from his throat. He pulsed around Negan’s cock, his body wracked with sobs of pleasure.
Negan’s eyes scrunched closed, mouth slack. He panted Rick’s name in reverence, his crest approaching. Quickly, he pulled out, hissing as he worked his length and finished over Rick. Hot semen coated Rick’s face, landing in his beard and across his open mouth. A wide smile overtook Negan’s blissed out face. “Fuck, you look good covered in my cum.”
Rick was too worn to be disgusted. At least he hadn’t finished inside, though the thought of it made Rick’s loins squeamishly hot. The idea of being bred by Negan… was troublingly arousing. Negan ran his tongue along Rick’s chest, licking up the cum. All the while, he pushed a thumb into Rick’s pliant mouth, gently forcing his jaw open as he brought their mouths together. The kiss tasted of cum; Rick could feel it on the back of his tongue, couldn’t stop himself from swallowing it as Negan kissed him. The way he grasped his jaw made it impossible to pull away and spit it out. Then the grasp moved along his cheek, wiping up the rest and forcing it in Rick’s mouth. Understanding his want, Rick gently sucked on the fingers, cleaning them thoroughly.
There was something so vulgar about it, but it was far from the worst thing Rick had done that night. Negan pet his face, fingers damp with Rick’s saliva, and praised him. His body still laid upon Rick’s own, unrelenting. “That’s it honey, you did so good for me.”
The post-orgasmic haze was short lived. Rick was hyper-aware of Negan’s bare body on his, the gentle expanding of his rib cage with every breath. It was smothering. Negan stayed there, petting Rick’s face and catching his breath as he came down from his own high.
When Negan finally got off of him, Rick allowed his body to relax, releasing the tension he had been holding. Negan fetched Rick’s shirt from the corner of the room and decided it was best used as a rag to wipe them down. He was careless and rough when he ran it over Rick, the fabric harsh on his sensitive dick. Negan paid little mind to Rick’s grimaces. The dry shirt was far from an effective wash; Rick still felt sticky from sweat and cum, albeit a little less wet.
“Ah, there we go. Don’t I take such good care of you?” Negan joined Rick back on the ground, embracing him from behind and wrapping his arms around him. The momentary relief was gone. Rick could feel the now flaccid length against him. There was nowhere they didn’t touch, the warm dampness of Negan’s skin pressed against his back and sought to conquer more territory. He pushed a leg between Rick’s own, their legs intertwined. “Sleep well, darling,” Negan murmured, forehead nuzzling the nape of his neck. His breath tickled Rick’s back.
Rick laid still for what felt like an eternity. Sleep would not come, yet he couldn’t get up, not with Negan tangled behind him. The breath on his back had slowed. The other man was asleep — vulnerable. If Rick had any means, now would be the time. But here, now, nude and unarmed and swaddled by the very man he would like to kill, Rick was helpless. He didn’t dare risk getting up for fear of upsetting the man should he wake him, or earning a second round.
So as Rick lay there, tired and high-strung, all he could do was ruminate on his shame. He hadn’t even tried to resist the man. And he knew deep down, a part of him had enjoyed the pleasure of it. Aftershocks of pleasure still coursed through his body, long after orgasm, likely stemming from the warm body still pressed against his own.
The thought of killing Negan was corrupted now. His crimes could never be absolved. This very encounter was derived from Negan leveraging his power over Rick. He may not have pushed him down, per say, but what say had Rick had in their copulation? Yet now that they had… known each other, in the Biblical sense, killing Negan didn’t seem so simple on an emotional level. He should want to kill him more than ever, but the gentle breathing soothed him.
---
Rick must have drifted off eventually, because he awoke to grunting and a friction between his legs. The arms around his torso gripped him tight as the man behind him rutted, breathing heavy in his ear. The ministrations halted when Rick jostled.
“Mornin’ sunshine,” Negan’s voice was low and raspy, causing a stirring in Rick’s loins. “Just taking care of my morning wood, sleeping next to you gets me all excited, I s’pose.” His inner thighs were wet with the man’s pre-cum, the dick between them achingly hard. Rick inhaled shakily, steeling himself. “How about you? Mmm, I’ll take care of that pretty cock of yours, sweetheart.” Negan gripped him, his large hand dwarfing Rick’s partial erection.
Rick’s sleep addled mind was still catching up. The hand on him was bliss, so he rocked into it, his dick hardening. Negan’s chuckle was deeper than usual, roughened by sleep. “Someone’s eager.” Negan began to stroke in time with his thrusts.
It wouldn’t take long. Negan’s morning voice resonated in Rick’s chest, sending vibrations through him with every moan. Rick squeezed his legs together and earned another moan from Negan. “Fuck, Rick,” He gasped, tightening his grip and jerking him faster.
He felt the tickle of stubble against his neck, then the wetness of Negan’s mouth, hot and incessant as it kissed along his throat. The mouth trailed up to the base of Rick’s jaw, and that was it. He convulsed with a cry, legs clamping down on Negan reflexively. Negan continued stroking through his orgasm until it was too much and Rick’s body sought to escape his touch. Negan was right behind him, finishing loudly, the semen hot on his thighs. He rubbed his dick clean against the small of Rick’s back and gave a pat on his flank, like one would a horse.
The warmth of Negan’s body left. He had stood, begun to stretch his stiff limbs. “This has just been a lovely stay, thank you for your hospitality, Rick.” As he dressed, Rick remained where he was, catching his breath. There were no marks on Negan, though anyone with half a brain could take a good guess at what Negan was doing last night from his disheveled hair. He did nothing to correct it. It may not be easily apparent with whom, but Rick had a suspicion he was more marked up than Negan.
“And Rick,” Negan stood in the doorway now, his face still softened from the post-orgasmic haze, “you’d better be here for my next visit. Don’t make me wait on you. If you’re good, I’ll see what I can do about getting us a bed.” He shot Rick that winning smile and left the door wide open on his way out.
Rick cursed, getting up quickly to shut the door. His body protested, legs nearly giving out at first from the suddenness of his movements. He retrieved his clothes from the corner, but his shirt was disgusting. Residual cum and sweat stained the fabric, so Rick wiped his thighs clean and stowed it away in the back of his closet for the time being. He had another shirt, thank god, but even when buttoned all the way, it wasn’t enough to conceal the evidence of their night together.
The mirror confirmed it. He was certain Negan had marked him up intentionally, sending a message to all of Alexandria that their leader was his bitch. It was evident from the cadence of his walk to the hickeys all along his neck, the swollen lips, tangled hair, and the unmistakable shame in his eyes.
By the time Rick left the house, Negan and his men were ready to depart. He went to see them off; Negan would want him to, of course. Negan was dramatic with his farewell — handsy, too. Rick’s people stared at him, some gawking, others averting their eyes, none said anything. They all got Negan’s message.
---
Negan, too eager to wait for Rick to earn it, brought a bed on his next visit.