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It was a jail cell— which Maggie thought had a lot of irony. But aside from the one that Morgan had so painstakingly built— this one was old, solid, and worn in; she added, pacing around the dark rust colored stain right where the mattress sat over the concrete floor. It was a twelve by twelve room, high ceilings and a singular window about eight feet off the ground— she’d been in here too long not to count it out with her steps. The window’s fogged glass let in loose and unpredictable light as the hours ticked on, allowing less and less light to make it through as the concrete grew dimmer and dimmer. It had to be nearly night by now, she thought, back pushing to the far wall to see if she could gather anything extra out of the glass but even on her tip-toes, she only got a gleam of orange light. “Fuck..” She groaned under her breath, attempting to stay off the mattress as much as possible, the thing worn with far too many stains to be coincidental. It was a scare tactic and she knew it, even if standing on the cold concrete sent shivers down her back.
They’d taken her weapons, her jacket, her belt, even her fucking shoes. But even that contact had been hours ago at this point. It was mid morning when she’d been yanked out of line at The Bricks and now here she was— slowly rotting. It was no surprise that she was imprisoned, in fact, she had intended it— her plan internally sketched out as thorough as blueprints. Manhattan had been three long months ago and the idea of her leaving with Hershel scotchfree was a fever dream. She’d executed her plan as exactly as she possibly could— brought Negan to the Croat in exchange for her boy and that was it.
Ginny had become a part of the deal as well; Maggie settled her back at The Bricks kicking and screaming because of what she’d done to Negan. Ginny cried, screamed, she even swore and that feeling settled inside of Maggie like a stone. How she had ripped away who was essentially a parent to the girl, even by her own justifications it just stopped being justifying. Negan looked at her when she left, his life traded for Hershel’s and he smiled. No malice or anger dripping through it— but a profound relief to see them back together. Like he’d completed his mission and the personal cost meant nothing. And that changed everything for her. Like it all just finally clicked.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the hall right outside her cell and Maggie pressed her back right up into the wall as she waited to see if it would finally be him. Keys clicked and the metal door was pushed open, Negan entering the room and sighing deep in his chest just from looking at her. He laid a new baseball bat in his hand against the stone wall and adjusted the gloves on his hands, gaze not finding her’s.
“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” He asked, a tiredness in his voice, a frustration running visibly through him as he flexed his fingers at his sides.
“No— I don’t. You know that—“
“You get why you’re here, right, Maggie?” His harshness cutting her off as his dark gaze settled her way. There was no use batting around the bush. “That little stunt you pulled, with the weapons— that’s got the people in charge upset. No one wants the people they’re bleeding dry suddenly losing track of a whole armory of weapons— that doesn’t bode well in our direction. And of course you’re behind it— because Hershel is nowhere to be seen…”
“My son doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“He does, though, Maggie… He always has.” Negan nearly whispered, looking greyer around the edges than a few months should buy him but his eyes still the very same, wrinkled at the sides as he narrowed them at her. “You sure you’ve got him somewhere safe? Somewhere far away from the Croat’s reach— somewhere I won’t find him?”
“You won’t,” She huffed out, far too quickly as Maggie’s arms flexed over her chest, holding herself securely, “Because you don’t want to, Negan. You’ve done everything to protect him— you wouldn’t walk that back— not now— not ever.”
His laugh was cruel, or maybe it was just tired but Maggie hoped for the later. His tattooed hand ran across his features, rubbing his jaw like it ached. “I’m the bad guy— I’m the bad guy— until it’s convenient for you— then I’m the good guy again. I’m a little tired of that, Maggie. Maybe I don’t want to be recruited on another suicide mission all at the expense of your fucking spawn.” His vision leveled at her again and he picked up the bat, rolling it in his grip. “Those missions don’t really end well for me.”
“I’m sorry.”
Negan paused in his step, Maggie’s gaze on the floor flicking back upwards to him. “I’m sorry, alright?”
Silence spread like a fucking cold sore in the room until Negan found his voice, caught between a laugh and a cough. “You’ve gotta think I’m some fucking idiot. You’re apologizing! You’re apologizing— now—“ His anger flared the way alcohol caught fire and he approached her quickly, Maggie flinching only a little as he bracketed the bat between them, the red tinted head of it inches from her face as it pressed into the wall and his body leaning over her’s. “ You really must think I’m a bitch, so obsessed with you that all you have to do is come in here and apologize— and everything just goes your way. That’s too little too late, sweetheart.” He hummed low, pushing the head of the bat to the base of her chin and tilting it upwards to look at him deep in his eyes.
“You built this bed, Maggie. What? Now you don’t wanna lie in it?”
The striking light green starred up into his— fear visible in the way her chest rose and fell— but also an assuredness that Negan wished he could wipe clean from her face. He breathed out, almost a laugh if it weren’t so not funny. “I don’t think you get it— Maggie. They called me in to deal with you on purpose— because I’m the only one who’s not gonna feel bad about giving you what you deserve— because if anyone deserves fucking you up— it’s me.”
He wished they would shake that confident look from her eyes but Maggie refused to back down. Her gaze as resolute as possible as she leaned forward, nearly pushing away the bat. “Then do it.”
He couldn’t let her go unchallenged.
He couldn’t allow her to keep going at this pace— because he didn’t even know where either of them would end up if she did. Negan’s hand wound itself quickly into her hair, tugging her hard downwards and off her feet, pulling sturdy enough that she wasn’t wiggling away. A pained sound yanked itself from her throat and he was nearly thankful for it. Maggie clearly wasn’t fully insane, despite her attitude, if she was still feeling pain.
“You’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He growled, voice rumbling through his chest as he dragged her across the cement. Her knees made contact with the floor, the denim of her pants dusty as she struggled for purchase, barely able to crawl in tandem with his tug before he picked the perfect spot— a mere five feet later. The sound of air swishing drew Maggie’s attention— her eye line rising just high enough to see Negan swinging the bat in vicious, circular warm-up strikes with his free hand.
Part of her shuddered, her breath hitching as her shoulders took on a slight tremble.
Good.
He thought to himself, lowering the bat right next to her head.
“Where is he?” Negan asked, swinging the bat in time with his words and Maggie didn’t move, eyes trained on the spot in the air the bat always seemed to land.
“Look at me.”
He demanded once more and she didn’t even waiver in refusal— eyes stuck to that spot. Negan’s hand was in her hair again— not caring how hard he tugged if she just would listen and they could be through with this. He tilted her head so far back, dull nails biting into her scalp and the column of her throat on display while all she did was hold his hand at his wrist to stabilize the grip. “Tell me where Hershel is— where the guns are— and this all goes away. We don’t need another encore— you and me…” He drawled, steadying her head so he could bring the bat down to caress her face, the stained red exterior moving down the shallow of her cheek.
Maggie was looking now, her gaze hard to stand in— but Negan had seen worse. She was mad— they both were, but beyond all the fury and rage, she was unmoving. He just didn’t fucking understand why.
“What are you waitin’ for?” Maggie nearly barked—
glancing down at the bat before looking right back up at him, her breathing uneven— but she wasn’t scared— she was furious, she was steadfast. “I know you have a hard time shutting up— but if you’re waiting on me to change my mind, neither of us are going anywhere.”
His tongue flicked out across his drying lips, nose flaring as his head cocked itself to the side. “You’ve changed your mind about me a hundred and one times since we've met— but you always go back to the same conclusion.”
“No.” Her voice was strained, like the word took so much energy not to yell. “No. I know who you are now. The man you are—not the man you’ve been.”
That rubbed something inside of Negan raw— like sandpaper on a skinned knee and his hand tightened, voice coming out between his teeth. “And you’re so damn sure, right? ” He asked— leaning ever closer. She flinched a bit more— seemingly more afraid of his bite than his bat and he took the hint; tossing the object across the room with a wooden thunk as it made contact with the wall. She looked at where it landed and he grabbed her cheeks with his hand, forcing her gaze back on him. “What if all I needed to do was wake up.. huh? What if all I needed was a little push after being so nice all the damn time and only getting the shit end of the stick..?”
His growl was barely restrained by the force of his too-white teeth but Maggie only looked at him, a challenge written all over her face. “Then what’s stopping you? The Croat— the Dama— they need their answers. Are you gonna get them for them?”
And that was dangerous— too dangerous right now. He needed her to be scared of him. Not for the rush he once chased, not to prove her wrong; but because her being right and knowing it was just too unsafe. His fingers flexed with nothing to hold onto and fear jumped in his chest.
He needed to amp it up.
“You want me to take the answers from you? Is that what you’ve been after all this time?” Negan just about whispered—his free hand now ghosting over her throat running over the bare, naked skin as his hand in her hair kept her neck available to him. She said nothing, her breathing picking up and her gaze leaving his own which only made his smirk harder— harsher. “Oh, it is… You misbehaved, and now you’re looking to get punished— well I can help you with that.” He hummed, dragging her onto the filthy mattress by a grip on her throat as his hand in her hair finally fled to give him more traction and he arranged her as he pleased, her face down and his chest to her back.
She was panting, holding her head up in Negan’s grip to keep her face off the fabric and her body stuck on all fours. Negan made a home for himself between her legs, on his knees as he held her securely with her throat. It gave him perfect traction to lean down against her ear, “Y’know… all those years ago I told Rick that I’d like to have you as one of my wives. He lied to protect you, made me think you were dead so that didn’t happen… but I think you’ve been missing out, baby girl.” He purred hand flexing around her throat so she knew just how much power he had here. “How about we roleplay? Mhmm.. I just killed your husband and you’re feeling achingly empty.. Now, how about I fix that for you?”
He could feel Maggie shake in his arms, her breathing only getting heavier. “You’re such a dick.” She bit out— on the right track, but severely lacking the rage he required. If she thought he was still the monster he once was, that saved her from all of this. He could keep protecting her from this side of things— Hershel too; like he had been for the last three months. Negan had done unspeakable things in his time with the Croat, broken damn near every rule he had made for himself and the hands he once cleaned so diligently— were blood red all over again. He had realized in the midst of things that he’s been trying to be a good man. A good man like Rick Grimes— a good man for goodness sake— a man he wasn’t and couldn’t ever really, truly be. Maggie had clocked that within him before he ever knew it existed and soon, she became his guiding compass— he’d go whatever direction pointed towards her forgiveness— towards her acceptance. The Croat tried to monopolize on this. Like Maggie’s rejection would mean this path wasn’t worth going down; but that didn’t matter to him. Maggie could hate him for the rest of her days, but at least he’d be there— taking up all the occupying space in her mind. He’d front row seat to the Maggie Rhee show for the rest of her long, long days if he had anything to say about it. And he could only protect her if she hated his guts enough to stop sticking her throat out to protect them.
Maggie wiggled against his grip, almost like it was instinctual to do. They’d done this tango more than a dozen times by now and they’d done just about everything to each other— Negan knew how far her arm could bend if he gripped her wrist hard enough, he knew the difference between which sighs meant pain and which sighs meant pleasure. Negan had tasted her blood off the back of his knife, and her cunt, buried between her thighs. So he knew all too well when she wasn’t fighting back against him.
What the hell do you need me to do?
He nearly wanted to scream, her hands unmoving from his wrist around her throat, not even trying to tug him off— not when he squeezed and not when he just kept her there, all too tempted to press his nose to her hairline and just breathe. Instead he huffed through his teeth; “Or are we past that, sweetheart? You aching for the big finale we never got back in that office building?”
Both her hands were busy anyway, so one of his gloved palms ran down the slope of her stomach, moving intentionally slow and grinning as she bucked, her breath quickening. “Negan—“ She reasoned, her voice tight but Negan’s motions didn’t stop, running along the line of where her tank top was tucked into the denim of her jeans. He could feel the way her body gave a vicious twitch the second the leather of his glove slid along the front of her jeans. Even through the denim— fuck, even through the leather glove, he could feel a molten heat there as he just pressed— a sound caught in Maggie’s throat immediately.
“You sounded like you wanted to say something, darling, but I’m just not catching it.. C’mon, spit it out.” Negan drawled, shocked Maggie was letting him go this far. Sure, her thighs pushed together at his intrusion and she made a gasping sound that he most certainly was gonna save in the dark depths of his spank bank, but she didn’t bash his face in like he knew she should be doing. Like he knew she was more than capable of.
“I know y-you..” Maggie gasped, her nails biting into the hand firmly around her throat now. Negan’s fear and anger bubbling up around an arousal that he should not be feeding. His hand tightened around her throat, feeling her airway get cut off with the sweet gasp that dripped from her mouth— she even made the lack of air sound pretty. But he just needed her to shut up and listen for once.
“You did. Maybe— maybe you did, at one point. But I’m not that man anymore, Maggie. I’ve done worse things than the ones you hate me for. And I have enjoyed every single one of them.” Negan breathed against the shell of her ear, pressing harder up against her, and he could feel the shiver he worked out of her from the hardness of his length pushed up against her ass. He wanted her the same way he’s wanted her for years— an unfulfillable lust that just wouldn’t unshake from his bones. He knew it was never going to happen; that Maggie couldn’t allow herself to sink to his level, even if he was the last person on this planet that understood her. It was something he had long accepted before Manhattan had just gone and screwed with his head. Negan told himself that that night only happened because Maggie needed him tricked— needed him invested enough in her to save Hershel. Little did she know he would’ve done it for her even if she had simply asked.
“And there are a hundred and one things I would love to do to you if you don’t give me an answer to my question..” Negan growled against the shell of her ear, his grip slowly releasing on her throat as he heard her cough and hack, desperate to bring more air in. It was a harsh sound at first, his hand above her pants instinctively pulling away, wrapping instead around her spasming middle as a soothing measure, until she was just panting in his arms.
His vision stayed fixed on the back of her head, the way it bobbed as she breathed hard, a shake in her shoulders that made it look difficult to keep herself up on all fours. He couldn’t see her face but he knew her cheeks would be ruddy and maybe her eyes would even be wet. Maybe her neck would even be blooming a bruised shape of his hand.
“Where are the weapons, Maggie?” He asked again, voice as soft as it could be, a little desperate as silence filled the space for a beat.
“…They’re in the woods… Three miles south… In a small shed.”
Negan could feel the relief pooling in his stomach, a sick sensation since it also came with the pang he always knew was there. Maggie was scared of him. He pushed that sorrow away immediately though, because even at the expense of his feelings, that was fine. Maggie being scared meant he kept her alive and that was fine. She could go back to hating him, thinking about a million and one ways to murder him— but at least he’d be an occupying force in her mind nearly as much as she was on his.
He breathed through his nose, his hand on her stomach slowly departing but suddenly, Maggie’s grip was solid on it; keeping him locked there with all the strength she had not to also fall face down into the mattress.
Her voice came out, in shuddering gasps, still recovering from losing all her air. “I didn’t tell you that.. because I’m scared of you.” She said, her hand cradling his— nearly fucking holding it in her own.
“I told you— because you asked.”
That sinking feeling in his guts returned and Negan couldn’t control his roughness as he yanked his hand from her grasp like she’d burned it. He grabbed her shoulder and forced her body to twist backwards Maggie forced down onto the mattress and he wrestled her, the woman not moving to strike him, as he knew she should be, but in seconds; her wrists ended up pinned above her head by both of his massive hands weighing down on them, and he had one leg on either side of him. Maggie hissed a bit from the strain he put down on her arms, but she’d taken far more than being grabbed by him and when they were face to face— Negan could see that assured look had never left her eyes. He just didn’t fucking get it.
“Because I fucking asked? Are you serious, Maggie or did one of those assholes bash you over the head on the way in here— because I’ve asked for nearly nothing from you and I’ve gotten far less than that in return.” His voice was shaking and she could hear it too.
“I know—“
“No! No.“ Negan’s fear was written all over his face, Maggie’s eyes watching every ounce of it pour off his features and she knew why— even without him saying it. She’d known from the moment she came in here and she hadn’t been wrong once. “Don’t you fucking start with that shit, Maggie.. I’ve been wanting you to trust me for years— you don’t get to trust me now.”
Not when it can fucking kill you..
Maggie swallowed, visible to Negan as he watched every emotion flash across her face. “But I do— and that’s sucks— for both of us, I know that.” She started, her voice wracked even more than him swinging the bat near her face, maybe even a wetness to her light green eyes that hadn’t been there before. This is what made her scared— this is where her fear lied. But even through the terror, the anxiety, Maggie stared up at him with so much concern and it was all for him. “It’s my fault you’re in this situation— “ She breathed, like the act of breathing was painful, and one more puff could concave her chest and she whispered something that hurt them both.
“I trust you.”
The three little words hung in the air between them and Negan didn’t realize he was shaking either. This doomed them, tethering themselves to each other like this and it was exactly the reality that Negan had been trying to avoid. He’d done so much to keep her safe, and Maggie had been the one to put him in harm's way more than a dozen times. But somehow her looking at him like this made it burn less on the swallow down. Every emotion flickered through his face— anger, frustration, his terror and fear— but there was a glimmer of hope that he just couldn’t shake. Negan knew better than this. He knew this was a bad idea— his brain was coming up with a million reasons why he shouldn’t and even with all that clarity— he leaned forwards and crashed their mouths together.
Her lips parted against his, a shuddering breath leaking out of her and he swallowed it all the way down. Teeth and tongues vying for one another as years of unleashed tension suddenly came to a boiling point. He released her hands, running down the length of her arms until his palms cupped her face, tilting up her chin to better meet his mouth. Maggie took her new found freedom and instead of pulling away— as he feared she just might—her fists balled up in his shirt, pulling him close like any more space between them would kill them both. Her tongue slid into his mouth, heat seeping through his jaw— chest— and impossibly lower as he memorized a sensation he never once thought he’d ever possibly feel. His kiss was bruising, pushing so close that he could feel a palpable pulse against the crest of his thumb as it rested on her throat. His heart seemed to match pace and oxygen suddenly seemed like a back burner necessity. Their breaths were shallow, air only passing between them in the tiny space allowed when her teeth tugged across his bottom lip and he only gave her just enough space for her to pant and let her head fall back. With enough room, he grinned at her, licking across the split in his lip she’d created and he was mesmerized by the little bloom of his blood on her lips before she lapped it away.
“Should’ve known you’d be a biter..” Negan grinned, kissing her again immediately, chasing the taste of his blood on her tongue.
Dirty fucking mattress, be damned.
It wasn’t planned and it sure as hell wasn’t smart but they moved like the other person owning clothes was a criminal offense. Negan’s hands fumbled with the button of her jeans— nearly breaking the zipper as he yanked them open and his heavy breathing echoed her own. Maggie had never removed a belt so fast in her life, brows pinched together like the object was personally offending her by keeping her out of his pants and Negan wished he could sear that image into his brain forever. The cell was much darker now— only the glow of lowlight leaking in from the window and a sliver from underneath the heavy metal door. But, it was enough. He caught her lips again, forcing her hips backward so that he could draw the denim down at least one of her legs. She barely helped, halfheartedly kicking the fabric off with a grunt as Maggie slid her hand into his hair, tugging him closer like she could force his tongue as down her throat as she felt like it needed to be. Desperation didn’t even feel like it covered half of what either of them felt— the emotions became physical sensations and all the man could feel was a flame catching in his stomach, drawn to her like only she could put it out.
Negan barely pulled his mouth from her’s, “We’re fucked, Maggie…” He whispered, a plea in his voice that definitely did not match the dark want in his eyes as she finally looked up into them again. They could stop, Maggie knew that. Maybe regroup when they weren’t in the belly of the beast and the repercussions of doing something intimate weren’t so blurred. But maybe she’d lose her nerve and right now she had tons of nerve to spare.
“You’re supposed to be making me talk, right?” Her panting even had a twang to it that Negan swore he could taste on her tongue. She leaned forwards, grasping at one of his hands before removing the glove in one solid motion and pushing him into her half-down panties to feel the way she was soaked for him. “How about you make me scream instead?” She whispered, lips just barely grazing his as she spoke.
There were a million reasons not to do this here— and yet he couldn’t think of a single one that mattered more than listening to Maggie right then and there.
“Yes, M’amm.”
Maggie thanked god for the low light and her even lower inhibitions because the idea of her saying something like that with a sane mind made her nearly die right there on the spot. Lust was a hell of a drug and she got a huge hit as Negan’s fingers rutted against the folds of her cunt, the deep shake of his breath falling over the curve of her throat as the rush went straight to her head. Her hands stayed steady on his forearm the whole time, leading him to what she wanted— what she needed at this point; and gripping the sleeve of his jacket with such an intensity, she wore nail marks in the leather. Negan knew addictions— he’d had plenty in this world and the last, but watching Maggie’s face twist in pleasure just from the flick of his hand; that was something he needed morning, noon, and night.
His mouth bullied it’s way into her neck, kissing along her pulse point as his two fingers sunk eagerly into the wet heat of Maggie’s cunt. It punched a sound out of her, her body flexing over the intrusion and it made Negan wonder just how sweet of a sound she’d make when he finally got his dick inside her. “Fuck..” He groaned against the pale column of her throat. “You’re tight as shit, baby.” His voice was mesmerized, flexing his fingers against the strong muscle just so Maggie could feel the way her body fought him, spreading his two fingers as wide as he could.
“Shut up.” She breathed, glancing down between them and immediately regretting it as her cunt pulsed just at the sight alone. Two of Negan’s fingers, pushing up into her in a steady glide– his tattoos disappearing inside of her momentarily, only to come back glistening with her dripping off of him. He caught her gaze, grinning too wide in the dim light– his teeth nearly glowing.
“Am I embarrassing you, baby? I’m just marveling at how good you’re about to feel in a minute.”
Negan knew exactly what he was doing, he’d dreamed up this scenario far too many times to let it be over quickly. There she was– even in the dimness of the room, he could see her like he’d never seen anything half as sweet in his life up until now. She looked a mess– her pants bunched up on one thigh while the other laid bare, her panties still connecting the legs at mid-thigh as they did everything to twitch apart and give Negan full access– but he could touch her like this with no real struggle. Maggie’s hips bared down on him but his free hand grabbed her thigh and bowed her legs backwards. The gray fabric of her panties was stretched out now, still connecting her legs but the elastic was near tearing point. It was really a sight, the way the material bit into the meat of her thighs, but if he wanted to fold her in half, he’d have to do something about those. The soft clink of metal didn’t go unheard by Maggie, Negan’s blade coming up to his face so she could see it.
“Don’t get too excited, dollface– I’m just giving myself a little more room to work.” He teased, knowing how much the woman enjoyed putting knives to his throat, he wouldn’t be shocked if the idea of a knife in their bed turned her on. Her eyes were electric– even in the dark and she watched the blade’s every movement.
“What are you–?” She started, but Negan would rather ask for forgiveness than permission. The metal cut through the elastic of her panties with barely any pressure, freeing her thighs further apart while the scraps of her underwear laid pooled around her right leg.
“Negan!” Maggie yelled, clearly not happy about losing a piece of clothing, but the older man just grinned, knife tucked away again as he used his hand to push her thighs up towards her chest, the two fingers inside of her getting so much deeper immediately. “Fuck–” She swore, the intrusion sending sparks up her spine and Negan’s stupid smirk gleamed down on her as he started a steady, deep pace.
“You didn’t need those half as badly as I needed to get this fucking deep inside of you. I want you to be able to take my cock and still be able to walk out of here, after all. That means I’ve gotta stretch you out.”
Shutting him up was only possible when Maggie yanked his mouth down on her’s, her hands finally unwinding themselves from his wrist as he was far from needing her direction any longer. One of her hands instead found purchase in his hair, nails running across his scalp and she sucked down the little sounds that he made, just as desperate for her touch as she was his. She could feel how much he wanted this too– something akin to pride swelling in her chest that she’d never admit to as he moved against her– cock still straining in his barely pulled down pants as he bumped against her thigh. When their mouths pulled apart, Negan worked in a third finger.
The asshole did that on purpose too– breaking their kiss just to hear the sounds she made when he pushed inside.
“Negan– ah..!” She cried, his name leaving her lips and she nearly regretted it with the way she watched his smirk widen. “Y-You’re such an asshole–” Maggie cussed, clearly not able to keep her stream of consciousness straight as Negan’s pace picked up immediately, three fingers now pounding inside of her as wet sounds filled the room and her stomach knotted terribly.
“I’ve been called worse. By you.” He hummed, a gravel in his voice and grin that was damn near audible. Her head was spinning, the darkness of the room only making it seem easier for bright spots to appear in her vision and she felt painfully near her brink. Admitting to wanting this had nearly killed her, but ever since she’d let the man give her a hand in Manhattan, feeling heat trickle into her stomach soon became associated with tattooed fingers and a tongue better put to use inside her. She’d found herself more than once, buried knuckle deep inside herself back in her bedroom at The Bricks, doing her best to keep her voice down as her romance novels laid completely unhelpful on the other side of the room. Negan’s voice instead played in her ear at those points, her doing her damndest not to let a soul hear the way she moaned her enemy’s name into her pillow. But god, the real thing was almost worth the embarrassment of wanting it so badly.
“Negan.” His name came out harsh, like a growl if her chest only had enough oxygen to rumble– but it certainly caught his attention– dark hazel peering back into her light green as she stared up at him, barely able to keep her eyes trained on his face. She didn’t want to say it– and Negan knew exactly what she was asking for– which made it all the more sweeter to want to hear.
His lopsided grin played dangerously on his face as he released her thigh to rest against his chest, that same hand now busying itself with tugging down his jeans and boxers just enough to free himself. “You need something, baby?” He asked– all saccharine sweet as his fingers inside of her slowly withdrew with a wet sound that made Maggie shake as emptiness settled in her stomach. But Negan wouldn’t leave her getting cold. His wet hand– still a shimmer with her juices, dragged his cock down against her pussy, pushing through the wetness of her folds and running just barely over her hole– flexing around nothing.
“I’m ten seconds away from fucking myself if you keep playing these games with me.” She barked, resorting to the bargaining stage as Negan chuckled, not unaffected by the searing heat of her cunt against his dick– but certainly enthralled in making her ask for every step.
“I wanna hear you say it– is that so bad?”
“It absolutely is.” She huffed, just proud of her ability to make words and staring at him in a way that made him know she was dead serious. Negan didn’t even attempt to stop the wild grin that formed on his handsome features at the challenge. Maggie despised the way she was incapable of controlling the roll of desire that washed over her just from looking at him. He clearly wanted to give her something better to focus on though— Maggie hissing as Negan’s dick brushed up against her clit and she shook against him– her willing her body not to. And of course, that didn’t go unseen. He started a slow, torturous pace of sliding through the wetness of her cunt, brushing the tip of his cock over her hole, all the way up to her clit in a way that would’ve made lesser women commit murder. The heat of him was unbearable, head bumping against the sensitive bundle of nerves that sent electricity up her spine with every stroke and leaving her wanting more every time he nearly grazed her core. He was trying to kill her– and worst of all– it was working. A near-sob wracked Maggie’s chest as her head fell backwards, the woman halfway between fucking herself down onto his dick or finishing herself off in the corner if he didn’t give her what she needed. “Fuck me.” She finally demanded, each syllable coming with a roll of her hips downwards, feeling the way his cock jumped to touch her and he guided himself through the heat of her cunt– the wet mess between them now a duel effort.
“Gladly.” He promised, his voice with an edge that assured Maggie he was just as desperate about this as she was. But before the woman could even yell at him for making them both wait this long– the tip was pressing down into her and she hadn’t realized just how tight she’d truly been.
Three fingers had been a hell of a lot for her to take– especially when those fingers belonged to Negan– but the head of his cock was somehow wider. “Haaa..” She cried out through gritted teeth as she pushed back down into the mattress and his grip on her thighs tightened– one thigh in either hand. “See..?” He groaned, brows pulled together as he leaned over her, her legs to his chest. “This is why we prep.”
Maggie would’ve ended this if he wasn’t currently splitting her open.
“S-Stop being a fucking health teacher right now.” She growled, barely able to find the air to make her words as her partner seemed intent on pushing every gasp clear out of her lungs. Negan laughed as much as he could,
“Gym teacher.. But ah.. Whatever.”
She hit him in the chest and Negan caught her hand, only utilizing it for leverage as he slowly sunk further inside of her– making her take inch after inch. “Fuck, fuck–” Maggie gasped quickly, god, it had been too long. She tried to get her bearings, the heavy rise and fall of her chest coming out at an almost hyperventilating pace and she dragged her hips backwards just a bit. Like if she wasn’t so full of dick– maybe she could think for five seconds. But Negan had no intention of letting her do that.
“Oh, you’re not going anywhere, honey.” He breathed, hands flexing over the soft flesh of her thighs as he dragged her back towards him. She fought it– not entirely sure why, but the feeling of being so full so fast was almost too much to handle. She attempted to pull away and her teeth gritted as her hands found purchase and they dug into the fabric of the mattress, but that didn’t stop the inevitable, her body completely bent in half under the weight of him bearing down inside of her. “Negan– ah– It’s– Fuck–” She couldn’t think straight– so the idea of a coherent thought making it’s way out of her mouth was a long shot at this point. But somehow, Negan understood exactly what she was saying.
“Too much?” His voice had a light tease to it– but he was far gone just as bad. “Me too.” He whispered in a groan–pleasure threatening to take over his entire being. How long had they both wanted this? How many nights had he spent imagining what it would finally be like to fuck her? Sometimes– it was angry– pinning her down while she spat in his face and he screwed sense back into her. But most nights– it was just like this. Her body pliant under his touch, shaking for him– desperate just for him in a way he only understood reflected back at her. He nearly burst just from sliding inside– the tight heat of her body making no room for him and he could feel every little hiccuping sound he pushed out of Maggie, from the inside. And yet, made no movements to ease either of them; because they needed this– only letting them both rest when he was fully inside of her and she was completely seated down on his cock.
Their breathing was haggard, her legs held to his chest as his hands squeezed right above her knees and he just looked at her. Maggie had always been beautiful– in all the moments he’d witnessed her in. Though looking at her now, Negan knew he’d never be able to see her again without this image pressed in the back of his mind. It was dark in the room, the only light now streaming in from beneath the door– illuminating the right side of her body and casting the rest into shadows. Her hair pooled on the mattress, strands of it hanging in her face as her lips spread wide over breaths she couldn’t seem to fully take. Her chest moved up and down with each one nevertheless, her tank top was still on, the dark fabric levying to her skin where it pooled just above her navel. Each of Maggie’s thighs bracketed against his chest, legs nearly over his shoulders giving him the view of the sweet dip in her hips where her cunt sat stuffed with him.
“Maggie– fuck, you’re so god damn much…” Negan groaned, a crease in his brow as he leaned forwards to kiss her again and Maggie gasped as she felt him impossibly deeper within her. They could barely kiss without needing to break for air, their bodies pressed so tight up against one another that the oxygen here felt shallower. Their lips dragged across one another, kissing becoming less of a fight and more of a need to touch and be touched by the other. Maggie’s eyes couldn’t stay shut the entire time, peering through her lashes up at Negan as he wore every feeling on his face in a way that made her feel impossibly close to breaking.
Their eyes met and Maggie knew he could feel it too.
His hips dragged backwards and he pulled out just enough to push back inside. “Ah!” Maggie cried out, her neck arching off the fabric of the bed as his thrust slid home inside her– pleasure sparking bright behind her eyes and she swore she was already wearing holes into the mattress with her nails. Negan couldn’t stop with one, he started a heavy handed pace, not pulling too deep out of the woman– almost like being too far apart would ruin it, and burying himself inside her like there was nowhere he’d rather be. His hold on her thighs was intense, pushing bruises into the supple skin she’d long wear after this— and feeding into the deep want he had to mark every inch of her as his. She already had him— every thought, every emotion, and his entire being; Maggie had him as a whole. The man pushed his face into her throat, teeth grazing the skin as he lapped across her pulse; a now thrumming war drum to the pounding of his hips. He could hear her so clearly like this, his ear so close to her mouth as she attempted to breathe through it despite each thrust throwing her off kilter more and more. Unrestrained sounds leaked out of them both, neither able to keep their reactions at bay as pleasure overtook all.
“Yes, Negan, fuck—“ Maggie cried, only getting louder and Negan knew that there were people listening— folks that could hear them; and he didn’t care– each muttered word a spur to keep going.
He pressed his lips to her temple, his nose dragging across her hairline and his pace had become sloppy and fast. “God damn, you’re so good for me baby, that’s it— breathe—“ He whispered into her skin, a near choking sound coming from the woman beneath him as she attempted to listen and his hand found her’s. He removed it from its entanglement with the mattress, instead linking their fingers together and holding her. His heart soared as she took it and squeezed. The sounds in the room bounced off the cold concrete, the pound of their bodies moving as one and only gasping moans formed on their lips; words failing both of them as only the feeling could take over. The heat between them was molten— a devastating blaze and all consuming. A tension wire ready to snap.
Her hips moved against his, unfocused and out of time with his shoddy thrusts as they were quickly unraveling into one another. Barely more coordinated than high school kids fooling around— the desperation was just too intense. The “where” and the “how” left much to be desired and even still, they both knew in the back of their minds that somehow this was the best they’d ever had. Fucked to absolute pieces on a mattress Maggie would have to burn her clothes for laying on, the threat of enemies no more than a room away. It was not how either of them had imagined it— but it was unfortunately, so quintessentially them.
“I’m gonna—“ Negan groaned, barely able to get the words out as his motions became ragged, his breathing an absolute mess and Maggie’s grip on his hand became tight, their hands shaking together as she offered the best nod she could.
“Me too—“ Maggie panted through gritted teeth, a wheeze in her voice and sweat dripping off her creased brow. The hand not clasping her’s so diligently, drifted up from his spot on her thigh and he dragged her into him again, her jaw under his palm as his thumb pulled her lips to a part and they melted into one another. Her nails bit into his skin as he swallowed the shaking sounds that threatened to leak out of their embrace, their kiss quick, needy— and desperate. There was far too much they couldn’t say. Not yet; maybe not even ever, but neither of them needed more than this right now.
In any other scenario, he’d love to hear her scream out his name as she came– make it bounce off all the walls and down the halls. But holding her just like this– their bodies intertwined and their mouths slotted together; there was an almost possessive flicker in his heart that took great pleasure in swallowing the moan she made as Maggie came around his cock. A show he watched through slightly parted lashes– but a show for him and him alone. She tried to pull back, but Negan kept her just right there– his hand in her’s pushing deeper into the mattress as her cunt clenched around him and he could feel every little pulse. It was too much, any form of pace long forgotten as the tightening heat of her core surrounded him. It was a miracle he’d lasted this long– but her cumming around his cock was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Heat surged in his stomach and his hips snapped up into hers as all his weight bore downward. Negan was as deep inside of her as possible, pulling off her mouth to bury into her shoulder; his groan muffled into her skin as cum filled her– hips moving nearly on autopilot as he gave slow dragging pumps to push the seed ever-deeper.
Maggie was shaking again– sucking in air quickly as she slapped his shoulder, the man not quite realizing how sensitive she was even to his tiny movements but he’d take any abuse to look down at her post-orgasm face. Sweat had dripped down the slope of her brow, making the little hairs at the edges of her face stick to the skin of her forehead and cheek. Pink was the best word to describe her– even in the lack of light, he could see the way she glowed, close enough to her that he could feel its heat, and count the tiniest little freckles that dotted those cheeks. Her lips were pink too– bitten all puffy as she tried and failed to keep quiet. But the crowning jewel of her face would forever be those eyes. Light green stared back into him and he barely could keep himself from looking away under their intensity. But he couldn’t bare the idea of missing a second of it. Even if Maggie lied to him a hundred times– looking into her eyes, he could always see what she was really feeling; sometimes before she really knew what she was feeling.
Now those eyes looked back at him through chestnut colored lashes, her pupils slowly dragging over all his features as he realized with a warm heart– she was looking at him just the same as he stared at her. He couldn’t stop himself from the grin that spread over his canines, Maggie watching that too as the pink on her face spread to his and a softness settled on her features that he hadn’t ever really seen.
“…What are you staring at?” She muttered as soon as she found room to speak and her mouth wasn’t solidly occupied on bringing in air. Negan couldn’t help but chuckle, even as she pushed at his shoulder, keenly aware of how her right palm stayed all tangled up in his.
“Well, I’ll give you three guesses.”
Maggie had to push down the laugh now, shoving harder at his shoulders as the man was forced to flop down beside her and finally release her hand. Negan wasn't gone from her long though, curling at her side and peppering slow kisses across her shoulder where the tank top strap lied. The woman was too tired to fix herself immediately, a buzz of fulfillment vibrating in her veins as she laid there, still aching where their bodies were no longer connected, a wet mess between her thighs. Negan was just as tired, the slight heave of his chest rising and falling against her arm as he began redressing her. It was a nearly silent affair, just to the tone of them breathing and his small instructions of “Lift up”, “Can you push your leg for me?” as she let him do the work she was too tired to do, offering little praises to her for all the tiny tasks she completed. He removed the scraps of fabric where her underwear used to be before pulling her jeans back up her thighs and settling her hips back down against the mattress. He tugged down her tank top too, hiding the little bit of her midriff and her eyes just watched as he did everything with warm hands and a shine in his eyes.
“You gonna try and convince me you’re a bad guy again?” Maggie asked, allowing her fingers to run across his temple, pushing back his hair. He smiled, pulling her wrist closer to kiss it as he gazed down at her. It wasn’t a happy look, and Maggie could read it right away. The space they had just occupied for whoever knows how long that took— wasn’t a safe place, and even when they finished, they were still stuck here. All that had changed between the time of Maggie entering this cell, and now laying down on the mattress she hadn’t even wanted to put her feet on— was that she had never lost Negan. Despite all the terrible things he may have done in the past three months, he was still doing them for her— for her son. But that didn’t change that tomorrow he’d have to wake up and do worse.
“You’ve got Hershel somewhere safe, don’t tell me where.” Negan said, the rumble of his voice in his chest even lower as he spoke as quietly as possible. “I have someone here. They aren’t the best, but they’ll listen to me and I can get you over to them. You go and get Ginny and then you two get out of The Bricks. Go wherever you’re keeping Hershel, and keep going.” He said, finally attending to himself as he pulled his pants up and Maggie managed to get herself off the mattress and onto her feet.
“You’re coming with me.”
“Like hell I am, Maggie.” He said, as resolute as possible as he stood to face her; towering over her. He could see the pained look on her face, like he’d just slammed a door shut she had tried so hard to pry open. It ached to do that to her– but she needed to understand more than she needed to be happy. “You, Ginny, and Hershel will never be safe if I run from this place. You saw what they did to just get me here— you’ve seen what they’ve done to keep me here. I can take more blood on my hands— I just won’t let it be your’s.”
Maggie got too close, too fast, Negan preparing to be pushed over again but her hands weaved into his jacket and held him there. “I don’t know who the fuck you think I am— but you don’t get to make those choices for me. You are not a danger to me, so stop acting like I can’t handle a hard life.” Her eyes searched his face for understanding but came back empty-handed, anger pooling in her stomach and her voice picking up volume. “If you think for one second that you’re gonna send me and my family off on some fucking expedition to Missouri like you did with your last wife— you’re gonna be wrong as shit as I follow you back just to kick your ass.”
Negan’s eyes looked down at her– sad, angry, frustrated even as he ached for her to find some form of understanding she wasn’t ever gonna find. “It’s too dangerous..” His voice was painful to let out– hands wrapping around her shoulders in gentle contrast to the way she fisted his jacket. “You think for one second I don’t want that though? What I wouldn’t give to follow you back there? What I wouldn’t do to know everyday you’re safe because I’ve got eyes on you?”
“Then be there.” Maggie said back, the bite in her voice lowered as a flicker of something more desperate came out– her hands shaking as she held on tighter and her eyeline raised to his. “How are you supposed to make sure if you don’t know? If you remove yourself from Ginny’s life– she’ll never forgive you. You’re the only person in this world who knows her– the only person who really cares about her– how is she supposed to be okay not knowing if you are? She’s never gonna forgive you. Never.”
Maggie’s voice was near a cry– he could see the tears forming in her eyes that she would not let fall. They both knew she wasn’t really talking about Ginny. His hands slowly moved to her’s, sliding down the length of her bare arms to meet the back of her shaky palms, “I know..” Negan said gravely, kissing her temple, like it was a last kiss. “I know.”
The feeling in the room had shifted. It was never going to be an easy path ahead, nothing between the two of them had ever been any semblance of easy. Fate wouldn’t be kind enough to give them grace, even after all they’d been through. Maggie swallowed down the sadness building in her chest, searching for anything to say that might be able to change the course ahead of them– but it all fell short as metal clinked against metal and the door to the cell pulled open. They stepped apart immediately, Negan pushing ahead of her, but Maggie strained to see.
Bright light felt almost blinding, the figure only blocking out a small fraction of it as he stepped into view, Negan’s new bat rolling on the floor as the Croat stepped inside– his wild grin playing on his face.
“Welcome home, Sestra… We have much to discuss.” He hummed in that overly happy tone– Maggie only getting a second to ready herself as he motioned to the side of him and more shadows of men entered through the doorway to fill the dark space– hands on her in a second.
“Maggie!”