Chapter Text
Rick tenses as he hears footsteps beyond the door and crouches next to it, ready to jump whichever bastard comes through first. He doesn’t have a weapon, but if he can grab the guard’s gun, he should be able to use it to take out whatever sorry stragglers are hanging behind. He’s only been here a few hours, but he doesn’t intend to stay for much longer. There’s the muted sound of conversation, and then the door’s opening, Rick teetering on the edge of his lunge as Lucille taps gently but meaningfully against his chest.
Negan grins, eyes alight with some sort of sick pleasure. “Nice to see you too, Rick. I see you haven’t taken advantage of the lovely fucking amenities I’ve been so kind as to provide for you.”
“I won’t be your prisoner—” Rick spits, but Negan cuts across him, irritation flickering across his face as he steps into the room and slams the door behind him.
“Well, someone fucking will,” Negan says, tossing his head and gesticulating with the bat, “I can assure you of that. And if I can’t have Daryl, then I am sure as shit gonna have you.”
“What did you do to Daryl?” Rick demands, advancing on Negan without care for his own safety. To be honest, he isn’t really too worried about Daryl’s wellbeing; when they had first reached the Sanctuary, a Savior had immediately pulled Negan aside, and from the scraps of hushed conversation he had managed to overhear, it sounded like trouble was afoot. Daryl-shaped trouble, including an empty cell, a dead Savior, and a missing motorcycle.
Negan doesn’t answer immediately, turning his back to Rick’s glare and moving toward the low table and leather couches situated on the periphery of his bedroom. “Don’t play dumb. Asshole’s probably halfway back to your settlement. Not that you’ll be there to greet him. Don’t worry, we’ll pick him up for you.” Negan flashes Rick a grin and props Lucille up against the side of one of the couches before he pours himself a glass of amber liquid and settles into the cushions. “Have a seat.” He gestures toward the other sofa, but Rick doesn’t move.
“Your little killer found it comfortable enough.” Rage twists Rick’s face as Negan keeps talking, sipping casually from his drink like he hasn’t noticed the metaphorical storm clouds gathering. “I had him take off his bandage and show me that nasty fucking hole in his face—have you seen that shit? It’s gross as hell, even if it does make him look like quite the fucking badass. He get that on your watch?”
Rick’s teeth are bared as he stands over Negan, fingers twitching in anticipation of violence. “You don’t get to talk about him like that,” Rick snarls. “You don’t get to talk about him at all.” He’s barely holding himself back from punching Negan in the face at this point. He knows what it would feel like, and he remembers what it had led to in the past, remembers rutting against each other like animals on the floor of his own living room. But he doesn’t want that. He can’t want that.
“Have a seat, Rick,” Negan says again, and his mild tone almost keeps it from being a command. With a last shaking exhale, Rick moves to round the table, but Negan clicks his tongue at him. “Nah. I was going to let you use the couch, but I think you lost that privilege when you tried to intimidate me with the whole dad of the year routine.” Negan smiles and licks over his teeth. “At my feet or in my lap. You choose.”
Rick stands motionless and stony for a moment before he makes his choice, sinking slowly toward the ground until he’s sitting in front of Negan, one knee drawn up to his chest. There’s not enough space, and his back is pressed awkwardly to the corner of the table, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to give Negan the satisfaction of being in his lap. The refrain runs through his head on constant repeat: he’s doing this for his people; every humiliation keeps someone he cares about from getting shot or gutted or having their skull bashed in.
“Look at that.” Rick can almost hear the derisive grin in Negan’s voice, but he refuses to look up and find out. “Look who knows his fucking place.” Negan taps the toe of his boot against Rick’s shin. “Didn’t have to be this way, but someone just doesn’t fucking learn, isn’t that right?”
Rick doesn’t say anything—it’s probably smarter to keep his mouth shut. If he starts giving Negan a piece of his mind, he’s not going to be able to stop. But Negan won’t stop pushing; the man seems physically incapable of leaving well enough alone, of allowing Rick to keep any modicum of dignity.
“Speak when spoken to.” Negan’s face is hard despite the undercurrent of mirth, and his grip on Rick’s jaw as he tilts his face up is iron. Rick grits his teeth and his throat clicks as he swallows.
“I know where I stand,” Rick articulates. Negan’s lip curls as Rick stares him down with his bright blue eyes. “But I thought you wanted me keeping my people in line. It’s hard for me to do that from here. I’m more useful to you in Alexandria.”
“Useful?” Negan chuckles. “Rick, you’re gonna make yourself useful wherever I fucking put you.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth and leans in close to Rick as he licks his lips, fingers stroking over Rick’s scruffy beard. “And if you think your people are still gonna be giving me shit after what they’ve seen me do, I’m gonna need you to give me fucking names. You know how this works. Don’t let them make it worse for everyone.”
Rick snarls and rips his face away from Negan’s hand, grabbing his wrist and twisting it at an uncomfortable angle. Negan laughs through his grimace as he yanks his hand away.
“Let me go back and talk to them—”
“I know you’re not this fucking stupid, Rick—”
“You don’t have to do this!” Rick snarls, voice shaking as he surges to his feet. “We’ll cooperate with you, just let me—”
“Rick.” Negan’s voice is cold, and every instinct screams at Rick to do something, but he doesn’t back down. “Get back on your knees. I’m not fucking asking twice.” Rick swallows his pride and gets back on the ground, glaring up at Negan.
“It’s simple fucking orders, Rick.” Negan finishes his drink, watching Rick coolly. “If your people give a flying fuck about you, they won’t put a goddamn toe out of line until I either give you back safe and sound or crack your skull open in front of them. And I really don’t want to have to do that.” Negan considers him for a moment while he fumes. “If your presence can’t keep them in check, then maybe your absence will. I know they’re going to—what did you say?—cooperate without you there to get them all riled up.”
Negan smiles, leaning back in his seat on the sofa and staring down his nose at Rick. “I remember what you said to me back in the woods, what you promised.” He puts on a growling accent, and Rick stiffens. “I’m gonna kill you. Not today… and whatever the fuck else. And what happens when you try that bullshit?” He gestures at Rick. “Maybe it’ll be easier for you to remember who you belong to if you’re here.”
“I didn’t tell Rosita to shoot you,” Rick starts. He knows he can’t win, but he has to keep trying, if only to stay sane. “If you didn’t make me look so weak in front of them, maybe they could adjust.”
Negan laughs, tipping his head back and hooking his foot around Rick’s side in an effort to pull him closer. “But, Rick, you’re too damn precious when your eyes get all wet. It’s the world we live in,” he leans forward again, uncomfortably close to Rick, eyes burning, “it’s what being a leader means: knowing when to give the fuck up. Knowing when to submit.”
“So that’s what this is about.” Rick snorts, shaking his head. “You want me to warm your bed?” His tone is vicious, reflecting the rage simmering just beneath the surface.
“Come on, Rick, we both know you haven’t earned the bed.” Negan suddenly has him by a fistful of hair, and Rick bucks in his grip. “I’ve just been thinking about what I said the other day. You would thank me for fucking your throat, wouldn’t you?” Rick growls and shoves at his knee. Negan doesn’t budge. “I know you want me rammed balls deep in you; I see the way you fucking look at me.”
Rick’s eyes dart away, but Negan yanks his hair and he has no choice but to meet that insistent hazel stare again. “I can see how much you fucking hate me.” Negan hooks his other leg around Rick’s waist and pulls him closer, inch by stumbling inch until Rick’s head is resting against his thigh. “I’m just you but better, aren’t I, sweetheart?”
Rick tries to snarl and pull away, but Negan won’t let him, keeping him pinned with his chest to Negan’s shins. “You always have to go making things so goddamn hard for yourself, don’t you?” Negan mutters. “You’re not going anywhere.”
He struggles against Negan’s hold for a moment until he comes to terms with the fact that he has no leverage. Some of the tension drains from him, and Negan’s limbs begin to loosen as well. For a moment, neither of them say anything, and Negan’s fingers brush aside his hair and trace the shell of his ear with a whisper-light touch. Rick shivers.
“It’s like fucking pulling teeth with you,” Negan muses.
“I wonder why,” Rick bites back, and Negan laughs softly, taking his head in both hands and tilting his face up to look at him. Rick allows it. He’s not sure why.
But that’s not entirely true. Some part of him likes having Negan’s hands on him, needs the fight. He hates him, but that fact doesn’t do anything to lessen the pull he feels toward the other man. And to be here, able to run but choosing not to, cheeks alight as the calloused fingers of his enemy stroke over them… maybe Rick doesn’t hate it at all.
“Is there anything else that pretty mouth of yours can do for me aside from complain?” Negan’s eyes are warm and sparkling, and Rick knows he could refuse. He could stay silent and stoic and safe, but he doesn’t think he wants to.
“Thanks for imprisoning me against my will.” Rick shifts on his knees, forcing more space between him and the other man. He should probably stand up, but that would break the strange atmosphere. “I really appreciate being torn away from my family.”
Negan watches him, hands falling back to his own legs. “Careful, now. Don’t push your luck.”
Rick resists the urge to roll his eyes. Negan wants too much from him to hurt him now. They both know it. Rick looks up at Negan and licks his lips; Negan’s eyes are dark and focused on him. Rick waits, and Negan doesn’t disappoint, taking a breath to say something that Rick immediately interrupts.
“Ask me.”
Negan’s mouth twists into a smile. “Excuse me?”
The air in the room is heavy and thick and silent. “Beg me,” Rick says.
There’s a moment’s pause, and then Negan chuckles and runs his tongue across his teeth. “I want to sink my dick into that burning mouth of yours. Please, Rick,” he enunciates, grinning, “I need to feel your tongue on me when you suck me so good you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror after. I have to feel your tight throat or I’m gonna fucking lose it; please, Rick, just give me that sweet mouth.”
“You think that’s good enough?” Rick asks, acting unimpressed. Not that it’s difficult; he is, for the most part. This is just typical Negan, but that doesn’t mean his own body isn’t starting to react against his better judgment, cock stiffening in his jeans.
Slowly, Negan toys with his belt buckle, undoing it with a soft sound. “Come on, sweetheart, I’ll be good. The longer you’re in here with me, the less time I have to do something you’d disapprove of out there.” Rick’s eyes narrow, and Negan laughs as he moves on to the button and zipper on his pants. “And I promise I won’t choke you unless you ask me to. I’m generous like that. Show me what that mouth’s worth, Ricky, I can’t stop dreaming about those plush fucking lips.”
Rick bats Negan’s hands away, grabbing the waistband of his undone pants and yanking them down his hips; Negan shifts to let him drag them down past his knees. He’s not wearing underwear, and Rick’s glare is met by Negan’s shit-eating grin. Rick ignores the way his heart jumps painfully in his chest and wraps his hand around Negan’s half-hard cock, leaning in to lap at the head. Negan hums and rests a hand on the back of Rick’s head.
It’s a more gentle approach than Negan has previously taken with him, but why shouldn’t it be? They’re on his turf now and have relatively unlimited time. Rick drowns out the side of himself that knows this to be wrong and moves closer, supporting himself with a hand on Negan’s thigh as he parts his lips and takes his dick into the heat of his mouth.
“There’s a good boy,” Negan rumbles, and Rick ignores the sudden desire to bite him. He pumps his hand on his shaft and strokes his tongue right below the head, teasing the sensitive skin. He’s rewarded with a sharp inhale and the tightening of Negan’s fingers in his hair. Rick hollows his cheeks and sucks as he dips forward, lips passing over another few inches of Negan’s hard length.
Pull back, sink forward—Negan is squirming under him now, hips jerking forward, and Rick pushes him down into the couch with a bruising grip. Negan only utters the occasional that’s it or yeah, his thoughtless comments turned into stifled groans as Rick works him with his mouth and runs his tongue over the underside of his cock. His jaw aches, but it’s worth it, somehow, just to have Negan panting and at his mercy.
Rick pulls off of him completely, and Negan almost whines as the absence—his eyes are unfocused and his face is flushed, cock bobbing obscenely in front of him. Rick himself isn’t much more put together with his sweat-slick skin and drool slipping into his beard and down his chin. But at least Negan’s clever words seem to have left him as he strokes his thumb across Rick’s swollen and wet lower lip.
“Is this the only way to make you shut up?” Rick teases, dropping his hand off Negan’s thigh to fondle his balls. Negan’s eyes flicker shut. “Can’t think of anything to say?”
“Jesus fuck, Rick,” Negan breathes as Rick takes him back into his mouth with a hum. “You’re fucking unbelievable.” His hand wraps around Rick’s throat: not enough to choke, but enough to make its presence known. Rick considers leaning into it.
Without Rick’s hand at his hip to hold him steady, Negan bucks forward in short thrusts that threaten to make Rick gag, but he endures the pressure even as tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. He lets Negan fuck his mouth like that for a minute before he’s pulling back again, resisting the weight of Negan’s hand on the back of his head as he half-heartedly tries to keep him down. The hand on his throat trails down his collarbone in a drag of burning fingertips.
“Come on, Rick,” Negan growls, desperation curling the edges of his voice. “You feel so good like that.”
Rick’s blue eyes are open and fixed on Negan’s lust-clouded expression, holding eye contact as he sloppily licks at the head of his dripping cock, the salty tang of precome hot on his tongue. Negan’s hand falls from his head, coming instead to reach for his own cock. Rick turns his body to block his access.
“Let me come on your face, Rick, please, baby. Gonna look so good marked with my come,” Negan pants. He sounds like he’s unraveling, and Rick can tell he’s teetering on the edge. His own cock jerks a little in his pants.
Rick’s fingers trail up from Negan’s balls and wrap around the base of his dick, suddenly squeezing hard. “Nah, I don’t think so.” Rick’s lips twist into a small smile at the almost pained look on Negan’s face.
“Rick! Christ, what the fuck!” he practically whimpers as Rick rocks back on his heels, watching Negan’s red cock twitch in his grip.
“You don’t deserve it. Haven’t earned it yet.” Rick tightens his grip the littlest bit, and Negan hisses. “But if you think you can get undressed without making a mess of yourself, I’ll let you try and prove yourself to me.”
The second Rick’s grip loosens enough for him to get away, Negan stumbles to his feet, kicking his boots off with no coordination and tearing his pants the rest of the way off. Rick chuckles to himself as he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Negan wastes no time getting onto the bed, already throwing his jacket onto the floor and pulling his shirt over his head while Rick stalks toward him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. It’s an obvious power play, and Negan rolls his eyes and snorts but still allows Rick to tease things out.
“Since when did you grow these giant fucking balls?” Negan reclines on a forearm and strokes his cock lazily, eyes fixed on Rick. It seems like he’s recovered some of his composure. “Damn bold of you, Rick. Better make sure I like it.”
Rick’s eyes narrow as he steps out of his jeans and advances on Negan. “Where’s the lube?”
Negan smirks and inclines his head toward the nightstand. His legs are sprawled open, nothing hidden in his self-satisfied slouch. “Gonna stretch yourself open for my fat dick, sweetheart? I wonder where I put that camcorder.”
Rick snatches up the bottle and gets on the bed, standing on his knees astride Negan’s waist, and the commentary doesn’t stop as Negan gives his firm thigh a possessive squeeze. “You glaring at me like that, my dick just gets that much harder. I know I said I like it when you cry, but damn… Makes me wanna cream my jeans every time you look like you’re about to knock my lights out.” Negan leers up at him. Rick can feel his face burning as he slathers his fingers in lube and reaches behind himself.
“You’re gonna take me so deep you can feel me in your fucking throat, aren’t you?” Negan’s hand moves higher, brushes against Rick’s hipbone and stretches toward his cock without touching. Rick already has two fingers working inside himself, not wanting to waste time, and the sensation makes him shiver and bump against his prostate. A choked moan breaks free from his chest. Negan grins, and it almost makes him sick with want and hate.
“Don’t do that,” Rick mutters, renewing his efforts with his fingers as the knot of tension inside his belly twists.
“Don’t you like it?” Negan asks, tone hinting at an innocence Rick knows he’s incapable of. “You look like you’re having fun.”
Rick grits his teeth and tries to ignore Negan’s wandering hand, focusing instead on the stretch of adding a third finger to his hole. He’s quickly losing his patience. This is about getting what he wants from Negan, in whatever form he can, and he’s not going to let a little momentary discomfort stand in his way. He can take it. He’s taken worse.
He leans forward and tugs his fingers free from his hole, slicking Negan’s undiminished erection with the remnants of the lube clinging to his fingers. His stomach turns over—Rick’s not afraid, not exactly, but the way Negan’s looking at him, hungry and expectant, is anything but reassuring.
“You gonna keep me waiting?”
Rick knows that his answer is no, however much he might be tempted to draw this out further, because his own cock is aching too, and Negan’s fingers are tight around his hip, and he wants to stop thinking for a minute.
Sinking down onto Negan’s cock feels natural, even though it stings, stretching him farther than he had bothered to stretch himself. The pain is a good distraction from how much he wants this. Rick takes his time getting settled, and it’s surprising how well-behaved Negan is, just holding him with a firm grip and keeping those dark eyes trained on him. When Rick does start to move, the simple action of rising up and falling back carving a loud moan from his soul, he can hear Negan swear underneath him. Good.
Rick sets the pace here just like before, fucking himself hard and fast as he braces a forearm next to Negan’s shoulder, stretching himself out over the other man. Negan laughs, but it’s rough and broken as Rick’s sweaty curls bounce against his chest, Rick’s breath hot on his skin. Rick’s thighs ache, and Negan was right; Rick can practically feel him in his throat, possessing him from the inside out. He would hate it if it didn’t feel so undeniably good, filling him up and striking sparks of pleasure down his spine as it rubs against his prostate.
“You don’t really think you’re in control just because you’re riding me, do you? Darling, your balls could be smacking my taint, and it would be because I wanted it and I fucking let you.” Negan’s voice drips with as much condescension as it can, given the circumstances.
“Fuck you.” Rick knows he should deny it; he should spit in Negan’s face and end this whole thing now, stop it before it gets worse. He can’t.
“No one’s gonna know,” Negan whispers, a seductive promise, “I won’t tell if you don’t.” And it’s so much easier—feels so much better—to let Negan roll them over so Rick’s the one on his back, exposed and vulnerable and fucked. “I’ll give you what you need.”
And then Negan’s looming above him, and Rick can’t help but twist his face away, closing his eyes tight in a losing attempt to protect himself from his searching gaze. Negan’s laugh is low and dirty as he starts fucking into him, grabbing one of his knees and hiking it up around his waist. Rick squirms under him and shoves at his chest—ineffectually: Negan’s hand is back around his throat, and Rick snarls at the sight of that knowing smirk.
“You go ahead and fight me as much as you want.”
It’s honey-sweet and dangerous, and Rick gives in. He’s moving with Negan’s thrusts, meeting every snap of his hips as he fucks him hard and possessive and deep. Rick claws at Negan’s forearm and digs his nails into his back, welts rising in their wake. He wants to hurt him, needs Negan to know who he’s fucking with; this isn’t—this isn’t…
“Tight little hole, baby. And even after I dicked you down good in your kitchen.” Negan’s voice is wrecked . Rick can feel him trembling slightly. “Have you been saving this all for me? I’m fucking honored.” His hand is off Rick’s neck, shoved between them now and jerking Rick’s cock almost too quickly. “Don’t act like you don’t want it.”
Rick leans into it. He’s desperate, he wants, and Negan’s going to give it to him one way or another… His whole body jerks with the strength of his orgasm as he paints the space between them white, seizing up from the intensity of the sensations coursing through him. His leg slips off Negan’s, and the man is saying something, but it sounds like he’s far away and underwater. Rick can’t bring himself to care.
It’s only a few heartbeats later that Negan’s collapsing next to him, chest pressed to Rick’s side as he groans and laughs breathlessly. He stretches out next to Rick, at home in his own bed, and it’s all Rick can do to lie next to him and pant, hollowed out.
“That was fun. You’re a freaky little slut in the sack, you know that?”
The catlike smile is almost audible in Negan’s voice. Rick stiffens and sits up on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. “Where am I sleeping?”
“Where do you think?”
Rick’s jaw tenses as he grinds his teeth together. He stands up and gets his pants off the ground, pulling them up his sweaty legs, ignoring the mess he can feel leaking from his hole. Negan’s eyes burn into his back. Rick settles onto the couch, drawing his legs up and getting comfortable. Negan scoffs.
For a few minutes, neither man moves, but something’s churning in Rick’s mind that needs to be released.
“I’m nothing like you.”
The mattress creaks as Negan readjusts himself. “You wanna talk about that now?” A pause, and then: “Who am I kidding, of fucking course you do.” His sigh carries across the space between them.
“I don’t enjoy killing people.” Rick’s heartbeat has settled into its regular rhythm, and his breathing is back to normal as well. It’s been a long day.
“Well, I don’t either, Rick. But I sure as shit like saving them.” Negan sounds tired, too. “And if killing one person means ten others falling in line and keeping their sorry little lives, well… that’s a trade I’m willing to make. Are you telling me you’ve never made that choice?”
Rick doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Negan’s soft laugh punctuates the silence, and then it’s just the two of them breathing in the dark until the weight of exhaustion catches up to them and carries them off to sleep.