Chapter Text
It was chilling how warm the bed of such a cold man could be.
His breath burned against the back of her neck. His hand like a smoldering coal wrapped firmly around her waist, pinning her against him. It had to be almost evening, the sun was making the room a dull hazy orange, and it almost glowed. She shifted her legs hooking her ankle around the back of his calf, he stirred in response, his muscles flexing to press her against his chest. A warm pair of lips pressed into the most tender point in the crook of her neck, the scruff of his chin scratching at her skin. His fingertips like searing irons gripped her upper arm and she flexed against him instinctively as the caress flirted on the border of pain. She could feel his lips form a smile against her skin, a darkly satisfied hum came from deep in his chest.
“Good morning” His voice was deeply quiet and clear, now that he had pulled himself far enough away from her to be properly heard.
“It’s nearly nightfall” she said flatly
He chuckled a few staccato’d huffs “Well if that ain’t the laziest sass that viper tongue of yours has ever deigned to bless me with.” He drawled, his hand slowly trailed down her side then wound around her waist. She responded with a mildly disgruntled grumble and in one rough motion, he gripped her bare hip and flipped her towards him her pale eyes piercing against his cold dark gaze.
“Now I know – “ He reached up with a free hand and brushed a few twisted dark locks of hair from her face “- Darlin-“ he offered a mildly sardonic smirk “- that you can’t possibly be expressing some sort of dissatisfaction.” She held his gaze, her eyes finding nothing but disturbing calm and a deeply unsettling sense of foreboding. Familiarity had not bred comfort when it came to spending time with him but she had learned a few things.
She relaxed into his arms, sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck. Her boldness always seemed to intrigue him. He loosened his grip and allowed her more freedom as she drew herself closer to him, watching her quietly. His stillness was a silent dare, his lack of reaction telling her “Go ahead, see what happens” taunting her, giving nothing away. She felt like she was approaching a coiled cobra but she pressed on. She brushed one hand along his rough jaw, her fingers slipping from the peppered scruff into his hair, slowly coming closer to him. Still he didn’t move, he simply watched her, though his gaze was becoming less sharp, his lids growing heavier as this vulnerable, defiant creature approached.
“Negan” she whispered, her lips barely brushing against his for a brief moment as they formed his name. He showed no immediate reaction, encouraging her to try harder, to continue. He was forcing her to work at it, to make obvious attempts at pleasing him. She felt the blood rise into her cheeks her face growing hotter. Suddenly her impatience and irritation got the best of her. She hooked her leg around his hip twisting up on top of him. He reacted quickly, pulling her beneath him with her own momentum, pinning her to the bed with his hips. His broad hand ghosted up her side, tracing the finger shaped mottled bruises along her hips pausing for a moment as if in a silent apology. She felt his touch drift up her bare ribs his fingertips slowing to make light lazy spiraling circles at the edge of her breasts.
How he could be all at once intimately violent, distantly gentle, and cruelly sweet had both infuriated and enraptured her, despite her conflicted contempt for him. She wouldn’t have chosen him for herself, not before. She wouldn’t have chosen the barbed club toting creature that could strike down innocence with swift brutality, the man who was so far beyond redemption that only in the rarest quietest of moments did she even for a moment suffer this delusion. When he slept beside her, deep in the night, when bare chested his face relaxed buried in her hair, his hand resting gently on her side; when he cooked eggs over the small hotplate in his room and hummed some old folksong he’d once heard her sing – in these very human moments she saw what he once was. In many ways he was chosen for her, by circumstance, by scars this new world had inflicted on her, and by her own selfish whims. She couldn’t bring herself to think about it too hard or too often, the more she thought about it the more she began rationalized it, and there was nothing rational about him, or about the way she clung to him in her sleep.
She realized she was staring at him. He watched her in return, noticing her thoughtful pause, the tiny crease between her eyes. “Thinkin awfully hard there scooter?” his voice was only mostly mocking as he began to release her. She refocused her gaze on his for a moment then looked away. He smirked then rolled to the side and began dressing. She sat up slowly watching him as he pulled on his pants. One of those gentle, normal moment feelings came over her. She heard him hum a few bars as he ran his hands through his hair to straighten it into place. He turned and reached for the shirt hooked around the headboard.
He felt a gentle touch at his waist and looked down curiously. She tentatively reached her free hand out to his face and raised herself up on her knees to bring herself closer. She searched his face for some hint of emotion and found it lacking, though he seemed genuinely surprised at her boldness. He allowed her to pull him closer as she pressed her lips to his, her fingers weaving into his hair. He barely reacted but didn’t pull away as if considering his participation. She didn’t wait for him to catch up and slid her hand up to rest on his chest and kissing him again, her lips molding to his as she finally felt him return the rare tender gesture. He pulled her to him, his arms slowly winding around her. She caught herself becoming breathless as she began to feel the corners of her consciousness grow hazy and enraptured in his embrace. She could feel the beating beneath his chest quicken, if only slightly. She pressed her fingers into his flesh as if in a weak attempt to cradle his heart in her hand. He pulled back looking down at her through dark lashes his gaze as affectionate as she had ever seen. That man was quickly gone. In an instant he had untangled himself from her and was halfway across the room slipping on his shirt and shrugging on his jacket.
“I’d get that frisky ass of yours out of my bed.” He said, the darkly jovial tone back in his voice as he twisted a deep red scarf around his neck. “Somebody’s got work to do tonight.” His inflection hinted at some unpleasantness and then he was gone. She watched the door for, the temperature of the room felt as though it had dropped, the light fallen considerably with his absence. He was so consumed by this world that not even a ghost of humanity remained in his wake. He could play at it, she could even draw an intimate moment from him but she had no faith that either of them could truly become human again.