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Now Negan had never been a man with performance issues. Just because he had a harem didn’t mean he had a problem keeping it up. So what if he liked to watch – mainly, he had a bunch of women because pussy is the variety of life – and also because his sex drive was ridiculously high, and his power trip didn’t help things either. So, going from being sexed up and just generally overly affectionately touchy to being locked away from the world as if he had a scorching case of herpes really, really set Negan back.

Negan wasn’t unfamiliar with jacking off, and of course he wasn’t the kind of guy who preferred operating solo, but he made do. But it sucked. Rick wouldn’t give him a box of tissues or lotion or a copy of Hustler or nothing. He washed Negan’s clothes and sheets once a week like clockwork, so things couldn’t get too messy. Mostly, Negan tried to just waddle over to his shit bucket and finish there, but either he got too close and caught a whiff of yesterday’s whatever-the-hell-casserole-that-was or even one look at it killed his boner.

Then there was the fact that Negan wanted Rick. He wanted him before he was in the cell, but now that he was trapped with Rick as his primary caregiver, he really, really wanted him. Plain and simple as that. But there was one thing that Negan really missed – and as much as it would be better clothes, and shoes, and a real toilet, it was actually Lucille.

Every time Rick came down, Negan was ready for it, and they’d chat (meaning Negan would ask questions and sometimes Rick would answer). While at first their conversations were stilted and thick with tension and barely suppressed anger, now it was friendly. Almost reminded Negan of when he’d get super sloppy drunk and get locked up for the night, and he’d talk out his ass to whoever would listen and they’d usually humor him and laugh.

Rick was a better warden than that, though. Almost maternal, bringing blankets, books, small snacks, and once some medicine to bring down Negan’s fever when he was shivering in bed, sweating like a pig. He could also tell that Rick was very protective. He refused to let people like the Widow visit him, and he never passed off his duties onto others when he easily could’ve since he was doubtless a busy leader. At first, he didn’t even let Carl visit since the boy tried to kill him, but now he trusted him to. Negan thought it was flattering.

But as well as his relationship was going with Rick, Negan cocked it up on a daily basis asking about Lucille. As time went on, though, Negan went from playfully asking to needing to know.


 

Today started off no different from any other day. Rick wandered down the stairs with his banged-up leg, balancing the tray on his one hand while his hook tapped on the railing. Negan moved closer to the bars and waited to be fed.

“How’s the weather up there, Ricky boy?”

“Pretty fair today, Negan. Might rain later, but the cucumbers need that.”

“Fuck, I miss the smell of rain. Makes me fucking sleepy, y’know?”

“Mhm. Naps are always good when it rains. Keeps you cool.” Rick fiddled with his hook, adjusting the tightness, and Negan openly stared. “Will you need another blanket if it rains?”

No, he really didn’t, but Negan always liked the way new blankets smelled – something other than the dank stench of his own cell and sweat. Something warm and inviting, like he could picture Rick Grimes in an apron with a rolling pin attached to his hand instead of a hook as he made macadamia nut cookies. “Why yes! Thank you fucking kindly, Rick.”

Nodding, Rick pushed himself to his feet using his cane, his hook braced on the arm of his chair. “Okay. I’ll go get that now while it’s on my mind. Before the rain comes.”

“Rick?”

Halfway to the stairs, Rick froze and Negan watched his broad shoulders rise and fall wearily, heard the deep sigh. “Yes, Negan?”

“How about you bring me a little something else, too?”

Turning distrustful eyes to Negan, Rick flatly asked, “What?”

“My Lucille.”

Negan was surprised how fast Rick could tuck the cane under his arm as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Negan, you ask me this everyday – I don’t have her. You’ll have to ask Dwight.”

He hated how Rick did that to him. He knew exactly how to say no without ever saying the world. It made Negan feel like he was asking his mom for McDonald’s for dinner, and instead of saying no, Rick would just say, “We’ll see,” which really just means no. If it were a no, maybe Negan would accept the answer easier, but as it is – he really couldn’t.

"Y’know I would do that, Rick! I’d totally fucking ask that rat bastard traitor Dwight! But! I don’t think you’d let him visit me!”

“Stop shouting.” Rick put his cane on the floor again to keep balance. “I trust Dwight to visit you and not cause trouble, but Dwight is busy with the Sanctuary – and have you ever thought that maybe none of your old Saviors want to visit you?”

Climbing back in his bed, Negan made a point of turning his back to Rick, choosing instead to stare at the wall. “Whatever,” he petulantly mumbled. He didn’t get up for the rest of the day, not even when Rick came back later with lunch and dinner.

Just as Rick guessed, the rain came. It was a loud, late summer storm, but the thunder and lightning and howling winds only lulled Negan to sleep. When he woke up the next day, he had skipped breakfast, too, and his stomach loudly protested. He pushed himself away from the wall to get up, and as his feet hit the floor, so did the extra blanket Rick promised. At first, Negan just blinked at it dumbly, but then he picked it up and brought it to his nose. It smelled like sunshine and ginger. Fisting his fingers in the soft fabric, Negan let out a sigh and dismissed the fleeting idea he had to leave a come-stain on the blanket just for Rick.


 

When Rick came by for lunch, Negan ravenously ate, and let the topic of Lucille go. But when dinnertime came, Negan asked about her again. “Please. I know Dwight has her, but is he taking care of her? Fucking please, Rick. I know I ask about her all the fucking time – but I really love her. You have no idea what the fuck she means to me.”

“You’re right, Negan. I don’t know. I can only imagine.” Rick collected the dirty dishes.

“Come on! It’s not like I can fucking hurt anybody with her while I’m in here – or myself! Please! Fuck!”

“We’ll see, Negan.”

Rick left, and Negan would’ve thrown a tantrum if it hadn’t meant that he’d only be ruining his own stuff, and he wouldn’t have had the stomach to sit on his bed with his shit bucket spilled everywhere.


 

Maybe it was because Rick could sense Negan’s desperation about the topic, or maybe it was because Negan somehow proved he could be trusted or even rewarded like this, but at the end of the week, when Rick Grimes came down for a visit, Dwight was right behind him.

“Well, I wasn’t fucking expecting this! Dwighty boy! How’s the Sanctuary suiting you? Rick told me you were King Shit now. Ain’t so fucking easy, is it?” And even though Negan really wanted to ask about Lucille, he was still holding a grudge and had to throw some salt in old wounds first. “I bet Sherry still isn’t sleeping with you, huh? I mean, why the fuck would she? After how much she rode my fat dick, sleeping with you would be like throwing a fucking pencil down a goddamn hallway.”

“Negan, stop it!” Rick frowned at him, and like he always did, Negan stopped. Gesturing with his hook towards Dwight, Rick said, “I asked Dwight if he could show you Lucille, but you’ve gotta behave. Will you?”

“Yes.”

Nodding at Dwight, Rick shrugged his shoulders. “You heard him.”

Frowning, Dwight slid his backpack off and took his sweet time undoing the zipper. Finally, he pulled Lucille free but –

"What the fuck did you do with her fucking barbwire? She’s naked, you shithead!”

“Rick asked me, too.” Dwight held her upright with visible disdain. “He’s gonna let you keep her – which doesn’t really matter to me. She was just sitting in a supply closet. Not much use to me.”

Sticking his hand through the bar – a huge no-no that Rick established in his first week of being in the cell – Negan reached for her and Dwight passed her over with a disgusted sneer. Snatching her inside his cell, Negan went and sat on the bed, running his fingers up and down her length, tracing the wood grain. There was still the bullet hole from when Carl shot her, so this was his Lucille, not an imposter. Negan didn’t want to question a good thing, and as he stroked his fingertips reverently around her handle, he realized he was rock hard. Fishing at the waistband of his pants with his free hand, Negan didn’t look away from Lucille as he pulled out his cock.

"What the fuck are you doing?” Rick yelled. Vaguely, Negan heard Dwight’s choked-off noises and his footsteps as he retreated back up the stairs, but Rick had his hook rattling against the bars. Looks like he forgot he only had one hand to wrap around the metal – and Negan’s mind drifted to what else Rick could wrap his hand around, and he was lost.

“Negan?”

“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” Spitting in his hand, Negan slicked up his dick and pumped it in time with stroking Lucille. “I’m polishing some fucking knobs.” He pressed his cock against the cool wood of Lucille, using her to pleasure himself like he used to. Once he even considered using the bat to peg himself, but he wasn’t that flexible and he almost tore out his asshole, so he made do with giving her a hand job at the same time as himself.

Groaning, Negan tilted his head back, and he caught sight of Rick watching him with his jaw dropped open in surprise. His cock pulsed in his hand, and he would’ve loved to have shoved it in Rick’s mouth instead. “You can stand there and watch me, Rick. I fucking love putting on a show. I’m damn good at it, too.”

Rick made some sort of garbled noise in his throat like a turkey getting slaughtered. Beet-red, he tore his eyes away from Negan’s dick to his face. “I didn’t get you Lucille for you to –” Rick spluttered something, and Negan didn’t have the blood in his brain to consider if it was embarrassment, arousal, or anger. “I gave her to you as a reward for good behavior, but this isn’t good fucking behavior.”

Unclenching his jaw, Negan decided to keep talking to Rick while his hand pumped away, fingertips teasing at his glans like he liked. Rick’s voice added an extra erotic element, and though he didn’t have a free hand for his nutsack, his balls were absolutely tickled that Rick hadn’t ran out yet. He wondered how far he could keep this going – at least until he finished, he hoped. “Ricky, this is my very best fucking behavior.” Running his thumb over the head of his cock, he smeared his precome against Lucille, and the shiny droplet practically twinkled like a star.

Of course, Rick saw that, because Negan wanted him to see that. And Rick, despite himself, for all his blustering, licked his lips. “Christ, Negan,” Rick croaked at the sight.

It was the sound of his name on Rick’s lips, the heaviness of his eyes on his skin like velvet, and the rough undertones that Negan could almost make himself believe that Rick was bouncing on his cock right now. Negan almost came, desperately squeezing the base of his cock to stave off that orgasm. He wasn’t going to have Rick think he had no stamina; and if he played his cards right, Negan was hoping that Rick might take an active role to finish him off.

"Rick,” Negan moaned, voice raspy and pleading. Instantly, he could see the effect it had on Rick as a shiver ran down his spine. “Rick, please, baby, why don’t you help me out?”

Flicking his eyes over Negan, Rick hesitated. “Are you gonna threaten me as say if I don’t help you, you’re gonna get a splinter on your dick that I’m gonna have to suck out instead so you don’t get an infection and die?”

Negan almost went soft, cringing slightly at the painful imagery. “Fuck no. And that just sounds like you wanna suck my dick – and I’d fucking love that, too! But you don’t have to. I’ll settle for a sad, eye-contactless hand job, if that’s all you want to give me, Rick.”

Rick touched his hand to his hook, fingers tracing over the curve in it in a subconscious gesture. “Not sure you’d like that very much, Negan.”

Rutting his cock against Lucille, Negan writhed on his little bed and groaned in frustration. “Riiick,” he openly whined, “help me out.” He shook his dick at Rick in what he hoped to be a seductive, enticing way. “Come on, fucking please. You’re giving me fucking blue balls.”

“Your balls look fine to me, Negan,” Rick sassed.

"Fuck you, Rick. My balls would look better if you helped me fucking juggle them. Come on! Lend me a fucking hand here, Ricky.” In what he thought to be a comforting way, he added, “One fucking hand will do just fine.”

In an almost imperceptible gesture, Rick stiffened and finally tore his gaze away from Negan completely. For that moment, Negan panicked and realized that he fucked up and shoved his foot in mouth, which isn’t what he meant when he said he had a foot fetish.

“Rick,” he started to apologize, but then Rick moved into action.

Negan’s cell was unlocked. Rick stepped inside, up to Negan. Negan awkwardly shuffled with his pants bunched around his thighs, moving over on the bed so that Rick had enough room to sit beside him. Then Rick sat down and pushed Negan’s hand out of the way so that he could replace it with his own.

The switch immediately ramped up the pleasure for Negan, and he couldn’t believe his luck. His head dropped back on his shoulders and he released a high-pitched groan into the air that came all the way from the tips of his toes. Rick’s hand, calloused as it was from rough living these years, was perfect and warm. He squeezed Negan’s cock tight in his fist, and when Negan looked back down to watch Rick work him over, he marveled at how pretty Rick’s hand was. His fingers were thick, perfect for fingering, and he had clean, short nails and even his knuckles were beautiful.

For Rick to jerk him off like this, he had to reach across his body to do so, and his hooked hand rested on top of their thighs that were flush against each other. The small, cramped bed with the paper-thin mattress caused them to dip towards the middle, towards each other, pressed side to side. Rick’s hook nudged towards Negan’s revealed, hairy thigh and the cool metal thrilled him and sent fleeting thoughts of maybe having that up his ass. Maybe another day he could convince Rick to that, maybe switch out the pointy end for something rounded and maybe a little thicker.

Thinking capacity left him when Rick pulled his hand away to spit on it before going back to jerking Negan off again, thumb swirling around the head just in the way Negan had done earlier. “Fuck, Rick, you’re a quick fucking learner,” Negan grunted, “Bonus fucking points for paying such close attention to my dick.”

“Shut up,” Rick muttered, and jerked him faster, causing Negan’s balls to bounce a little harder.

“Woah, Rick, shit!” Negan squeezed Lucille tighter in his fist, and he grabbed Rick’s forearm with his other. He used this to guide Rick to go slower, feeling the tension and muscles in Rick’s arm. “Not quite what I meant by juggling my fucking balls, Rick, but fuck, this is nice.” Slipping his hand off Rick’s once he got the rhythm down again, Negan grabbed his hooked hand and held on for the ride.

Of course, Rick didn’t notice that, and he never once looked in Negan’s direction. He stared at Negan’s red flushed, weeping cock hard with a look a concentration, his tongue pinched carefully between his teeth. Breathing heavily, Negan was hypnotized by Rick’s face, usually all frowns and hard lines and sometimes neutral smoothness. Now though, Negan could see the smile lines around his pretty eyes and the flush hidden under his beard that hadn’t quite tinged the tips of his ears red yet. Rick’s proud profile, with high forehead and fucking distinguished nose that once upon a time might’ve been broken and never proper reset, was fucking handsome and sexy as fuck, and Negan gasped and rolled his hips, pushing his cock into Rick’s strong grip in his pleasure.

Under Rick’s heavy, serious gaze, Negan felt like every fucking cam girl and porn star who screamed her head off while she got her pussy ate – and Rick didn’t even have to put his mouth on his dick. Negan didn’t know how he got so lucky; and then his next thought was that he didn’t care what he did because he wanted this for so long. “Mm, Rick, fucking shit, baby.” Leaning against Rick more heavily, Negan turned his face into Rick’s neck and breathed in his musky sweat, literally panting down Rick’s neck. “That’s fucking good, keep going, keep fucking going.”

Suddenly, Negan was jerked back as Rick reached up and jabbed his hook into Negan’s open mouth. The hook didn’t pierce his skin or cut him, but Negan could feel its sharp end jabbing into the sensitive inside of his cheek, holding him back from Rick. The metal was rapidly warming up in his mouth, and Negan drooled around it, curiously running his tongue over it as he was forced to look into Rick’s eyes.

“I told you to shut up.” There was no playfulness in Rick’s eyes, but there was something in them that told Negan that while this was a dangerous position with a slightly pissed off Rick Grimes, he would be fine so long as he behaved. “You’re gonna take whatever I give you, you hear me?”

Carefully, Negan nodded, and his dick throbbed in Rick’s hand. Satisfied, Rick turned his attention back to Negan’s dick and continued pumping away. The hook stayed in Negan’s mouth, and he closed his lips around it and sucked, hollowing his cheeks and lolling his tongue all over it. His eyes fell shut as he focused on his pleasure again. He hummed, and that didn’t bother Rick, so he continued making noises rather than talking.

What Rick did give him, he gave it to him good. Negan didn’t think that this was only so good because he was depraved for so long, but it had to be because Rick learned to compensate for his hook by just being that fucking good. And Negan had a feeling that it really didn’t matter if Rick had one hand or two; it just felt this good because it was Rick Grimes working over his dick.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Rick made a twisting motion, flicking his wrist as he pulled up and pushed down. He was doing it like it was the most normal task in the world, like juicing a lemon. “Yeah, you are, I can tell. You’re getting hotter under my fist. Harder.” Meeting Negan’s eyes, Rick rhetorically asked with that proud lilt in his southern drawl, “You’re gonna come just like this, aren’t you? From my hand, sucking on my hook like a slut. Aren’t you?”

Eyes rolling back in bliss, Negan moaned out through his nose, the hook still in his mouth. Rick knew that that was a yes.

Looking back down at Negan’s almost purplish cock, Rick quickened his pace and tightened his fist around him. Negan felt his balls draw up in tight in preparation, his stomach muscles flipping, muscles tensed. He started to shake, and then Rick crooned sweetly, “Come for me, Negan.”

Biting the hook, Negan groaned around it and come on Rick’s fingers. Rick didn’t let up, continuing to milk him dry and wring him out until he was so overly sensitive that it almost hurt. When Rick finally released him, Negan’s flaccid cock flopped like a worm and Rick’s hand was coated in sticky, white come. Pulling his hook from Negan’s mouth, he offered up his hand instead. “Eat it.” It was not a request.

Nearly on the verge of sleep, Negan tenderly held Rick’s hand to his mouth and licked up every salty drop, sure to not miss any. He ran his tongue over Rick’s heartline, over the sensitive skin between the digits, closing his lips around his fingertips in a light nip. Negan was making love to Rick’s hand with his mouth, eyes only for Rick, and Rick looked on, impassive. Once Rick’s hand was cleaned, Negan lifted his chin, and he stole a kiss, not quite able to sneak his tongue in before Rick pulled himself away, wrenching his body out of Negan’s grasp.

Rick was already locking the cell back up again in a blink of an eye as if nothing had happened. Whereas before when he stood on the other side of those bars trembling at the sight of Negan’s dick, all of that was gone now. It left Negan’s head spinning, and nearly sapped the post-coital bliss out of him. But then Negan saw that there was a sizeable bulge in Rick’s pants, and he knew he got under Rick Grimes’ skin.

“Fucking thanks for lending that hand, Rick.” Negan flopped back on his elbows on the bed, letting his cock cool in the air. “You know if you come back inside, I can return the fucking favor.” Spreading his thighs, Negan’s pants slipped a little further down his legs past his knees. “I’ll even let you stick it in my ass if you want, baby.”

Rick’s eyes were heated as it dropped down to the revealed skin below Negan’s balls, the pucker of his asshole barely visible in the shadows. “No thanks.”

Negan tried to not let it show that his ego was bruised. “Suit yourself, Rick. Next time I may not be in the mood for that and it’ll be your asshole getting fucked open instead.”

"Yeah, I doubt that Negan.” Fidgeting with his hook, Rick wiped it clean of Negan’s drool using the hem of his shirt. “Now, I gave you what you want. You have your Lucille. If you don’t behave, I won’t hesitate to take her away from you again.”

Suddenly, Negan remembered the bat, and he was surprised when he only felt a little guilty. Peeking over the side of the bed, Negan saw that he had dropped her and she had rolled away from the bed. She didn’t look accusing, but placid, though that’s probably because she lacked her barbwire. When Negan looked back at Rick again, he was already making his way up the stairs as carefully as he could with his bum leg.

“Thanks again, Rick!” Negan called after him. “And remember, if you ever need someone to help you out – with fucking anything – you know exactly where to fucking find me!”

Without replying, Rick shut the door firmly behind him, and Negan heard the lock click with finality. With a sigh, Negan dropped on his back and closed his eyes to block out the dingy ceiling. He still felt good after the orgasm, but as it faded away, that same loneliness crept back into his heart again. And when Negan poked at it, he finally realized what it was. “Fuck.”