"Thanks for today." Negan and Aali stood in no man's land in the dim light of Alexandria.
He gently held her wrists as she shivered in the chill. She'd been good. And fit perfectly into her tight little getup. Letting Siddiq bandage her wounds without so much as a peep.

He wanted to hug her, hold her tight and warm her up. But he was nervous of his words, or more accurately, her reaction.

But fuck this shit. He hadn't forgotten who he was, what he was capable of.

He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, stepping closer and hanging his arm over her shoulders. For once, she seemed settled, still on edge, still tense, still on the verge of bolting. But she abstained from clawing his eyes and instead nuzzled in deeper.

He had suddenly become her one anchor point in all this confusion, and while she still feared him, sensed what he wasn't all roses and sunshine, she needed the stability and kindness he brought. How little did she actually know—

He smoothly started the trot back down to the prison, playing with her curls with his free hand. "Look, I've spoken to Rick—you don't have to go back down there."

Negan stopped abruptly, and Aali looked up at him with a mix of terror and awe. First things first, the cell was solid, nothing could get in, the iron bars offered sanctuary, but she couldn't get out. And her mind reeled with possibilities. What would happen if there was a fire, an attack, a herd showing up out of nowhere...she'd be trapped.

Negan noticed her perplexed expression, snickering and licking his lips. "You can stay with me if you want."

She was stunned. Stay with him? Where? How? Where would she sleep? Where would she hide? Could she really trust him enough to actually turn her back and sleep within the same confines of a house? Trust usually kills you dead.

The ex-savior backed off, holding up his palms and head cocked, "hey, only if you fuckin' want, but-"

His smirk dropped, carefully assessing his tact and preparing his tongue to give it to her politely, "but there's nowhere else for ya other than down there-" His voice trailed off, leaving her to fill in the blanks.

It clicked with her instantly. No one else wanted her. She only had two options, be under a watchful eye, or locked in a cage.

She slumped at the hit to her gut like a bullet. Unwanted again, not welcomed, not loved, just a thing balancing on the edge of being shunned.

Negan grasped her saddened face, lifting up her chin, smiling at the way her nostrils flared and how her eyes puffed out at the bottom. "Rick's playin' happy families with the last samurai and one ball-"

Aaliyah ripped her face away, turning on her heels and crossing her arms, puffing out aggravated puffs of air. She was sick of being babied.

Negan huffed, twisting her around effortlessly and grabbing her shoulders, "fine. No one else wants you and you can't be trusted on your own."

She pouted, communicating with her eyes how betrayed and crazy she felt, who the hell was anyone to judge.

"You are pretty wacko, ya can't blame em for not wantin' a fox in the henhouse," Negan spoke before he thought again, and Aali's fist was ready to crunch his nose.

But the old leader wiped his brow, inhaling long and deep, "shit, I'm sorry, sometimes my mouth runs away with me. It's been a long fucker of a day."

He opened up his arms, a finger pointing down the street and one to the old prison door, "choose, baby. My comfy bed."

She widened her eyes at the sound of my bed, surely he meant his spare one.

His voice channeled a game show host, "orrrrrrr Rikers island 2.0, where the food is even shittier and the bed gives you arthritis."

He waggled his paws, tilting his bobbing head, teeth shining like Cujo.

She thought for a long few seconds. Before nuzzling back under his arm.

*

The walk back to Negan's house had been painfully silent, not that she had anything to communicate, well she did, but she physically couldn't. But Negan seemed nervous, jumpy and on edge.

She entered into his little white cave, kicking off her boots. But she was fucked, it had been a cunt of a day, the pain relief had worn off hours ago, and Siddiqs stitches were tighter than a misers asshole, there was a dull thud in her head, a steady ba doom ba doom, even her toes ached.

But she couldn't help but laugh to herself. It reminded her of a shagged out couple coming home from work, happy in each others company but so fucking exhausted they could barely breathe.

And Negan seemed just as worn, yawning every three minutes and beginning to force his grins.

"You wanna eat?" He voiced, hanging up his jacket and pulling up his pants. He secretly hoped she'd say no, he could never leave a pot unwashed and spaghetti took a good half hour to make. But for her, he'd go the extra mile and not complain.

But she shook her head, holding onto her stomach that rumbled. But she was telling the truth, she wasn't hungry in the least.

He clicked his fingers as he remembered something, rifling through his jacket pocket and producing a white pack of amoxicillin, brimming with twenty-four white and red antibiotics.

He rattled the box, balancing it between his thumbs while he clicked his fingers together, "you know you have to take this shit in the mornin'?"

His voice was serious, so serious it gave Aali a shiver, there was no inflection, meaning no question, and it certainly wasn't rhetorical, he might as well of said, you're taking this in the morning, no exceptions. His eyes narrowed, body frozen, the box undulating with every beat of his heart.

But it was too late for a silent argument, and she was to fucked for charades, so she nodded.

He smiled again, this time genuine, tucking the medicine back into his pocket. "Good girl, finally fuckin' listenin' to me, I know what's best for ya. Wait there a sec."

And she did, watching him like an exotic animal as he ambled into the kitchen, returning a minute later with two tall glasses of water, the ice clanging in the pretty floral flutes.

He practically hopped up the first step to the second floor, handing her glass over gently, and their fingers brushed, their eyes meeting as their digits erupted in static."Come on, then. I'll give ya the tour in the mornin'. For now, it's fuckin' night night."

She literally stuck to his ass like the stairs would eat her if she wasn't connected to him, walking down the soft carpet which felt glorious under her toes to a closed white painted door at the bottom of the hallway. Until the sight of a big double bed caught her attention.

Negan opened the door, leaning on the frame, eyeing the single bed with disdain. It was literally the only thing in the room beside the frosted privacy window and the little empty pine draws."It's not much..." He drawled, but when he received no response he checked over his shoulder, finding absolutely no one there. "Where the fuck she go?"

A swell of panic rose in his gut, maybe this had all been too much, maybe he had pushed her too far, one touch too many, one touch to little. He began jogging down the hallway whispering fucks at a thousand miles per hour, but as he bolted past his room, a small bundle curled up on his bed stopped him dead.

He walked in automatically when he saw Aali tightly wound in a ball on his mattress, not bothering to hide under the covers or use a pillow. "I'll go sleep on the couch-" He began, feeling slightly salty about being kicked from his own bed. But he could tell she was comfortable, nuzzling her face into the fleecy comforter and flexing her toes. "Night night, baby. Sleep well."

As soon as he turned to leave, she was up on her feet. Aali could think of nothing worse than sleeping in a strange house alone. Negan's eyes widened into saucers as she blocked his path outside, hesitantly pushing on his chest for him to take a few steps back.

He was confused, and it showed on his face, but she huffed, pointing to the bed with a cocked head. Then it clicked. "You want me to stay with ya?" He pointed to his chest before flipping his hand up.

She nodded, returning to the bed and taking the side closest to the wall, this time snaking herself underneath the covers.

Negan stood internally debating with himself for a few seconds. Wondering what the hell Rick would do if he knew. Probably say he was taking advantage of her. But he was tired, and that couch was a bitch to sleep on, and his feet hung off the end of the single bed.

He hesitantly padded towards her, flopping down on his side, careful not to touch her and stretching out. And he pulled his shirt off, throwing it on the floor.

But like a little burrowing tree dweller, she latched onto him, catching the breath in his throat, her face dug down deep in his neck and her long arm hugging his waist, and she locked her leg into place around his own.

He instantly softened, each muscle relaxing involuntarily. It felt so good, her breath whooshing down his sensitive throat, the way her fingers grazed the taut skin of his stomach.

A heat swelled up deep in his stomach, relentless and remorseless in how hot gushes of blood pumped straight to his cock now growing just a single inch below the inside of her smooth thighs.

He couldn't help himself when he smoothed away her hair, exposing her vulpine face.

Fuck she was pretty. Something told him to move, give himself some space, but it was he was tied down by invisible tethers, everything suddenly aching so good and in all the right places. He saw her long lashes flutter, her bright silver orbs opening to look up at him with a shy simper, and his hand moved of it's own volition to stroke down her sides.

And she was warm, emitting this blissful heat that seemed to scorch him. And she scooted closer, the soft sides of her breasts brushing against his pectorals, making him shudder. Every patch of his skin was hot, and as he tore his gaze away from her he looked down between his thighs, his dick saluting thick and proud.

How the hell could he explain it to her? She was seeking some comfort and warmth, protection. She actually trusted him in this moment of pure vulnerability. And he could think about was flipping her over and sinking his cock down to the hilt inside of her. He knew she'd be tight, her face contorted in a brief flash of pain as he pushed himself into her, her mouth wide open, eyes rolling, her fingers gripping the sheets as he began to pound, until her thighs and pussy were drenched in a hot load of cum.

He'd take her deep and slow at first, heat her up by reaching under her flat belly to rub his rough fingertips over her swollen nub, tease her nipples until they burnt and throbbed.

He stole a look at her again, and she was still staring, still rolling her eyes over his face, her lips slightly parted and shimmering in the moonlight with her natural wetness. But before he could claim her, he'd need to crush his mouth against her's, taste her, plunder her mouth with his tongue, swirl it around her own, suck on it and bite her plump borders.

The urge to thrust his cock against her thigh was building, like a pressure cooker, almost unbearable, cock literally throbbing and twitching and every muscle drawn taut, and he knew there'd be a damp patch giving him away on his grey sweats.

Fuck, suck and lick this vicious little animal until she was an exhausted pile of sweat -slicked twitching limbs, she'd cling, bite, scream. And he'd shiver when he'd see the bright red scratch marks down his back in the morning.

It felt so wrong to meet her helplessness with such a craving hunger, his heart thundering in his chest. He knew it was terrible and cruel to make a sport out of taming her, but it would be so easy to twist her onto her side, pull down her pants and sink deep down inside of her, extract those moans he'd heard in the shower.

Aaliyah fell asleep in three deep breaths, the powerful opioids and the lull of a soft bed wrapping her up in the arms of Morpheus.

Negan sighed at his lack of control with a roll of his eyes, and with her breath still tickling his neck his hand roamed down his chest, hesitating only for a second when it passed the boundary of his pants.

How his cock erected his boxers didn't make it hard for him to clasp it. And with his eyes locked onto the smooth mounds of her breasts, he gave himself one long, tight downward stroke, wetting his dick with the trickle of precum that had seeped from his heavily tapered head.

It felt good, too good, his heavy breaths rocking her arm as he picked up the pace, his head lolling on the pillow, beads of sweat appearing on his furrowed brow and parted lips.

His hips moved with each of his enthusiastic strokes, and he stifled a whine when he twisted his palm, silent fucks escaping.

He imagined fucking her like a lion, totally primal and animalistic, teetering on the edge of something vicious. Grabbing her hair to yank her head back and mark the soft flesh of her throat with his teeth, then his big arm around her throat, the other gripping her hair as he tugged until her scalp screamed, his hips clanging against hers as he hammered his dick into every hot orifice, then spanked her ass to the point it glowed and she could see his handprint in the mirror.

For him whisper down her ear that he owned her, tickling underneath her chin and calling her his good, dirty girl.

Aali was awoken by the gentle vibrations of the bed, her hand privy to the way his stomach tightened, his little grunts steaming from his nose.

She locked onto his face, his eyes tightly closed and face wracked with pleasure, his tongue poking out to roll over his lips.

Then she caught his hand, furiously fucking himself and her jaw snapped open, frozen still. But instead of becoming upset, she couldn't help but watch him, fascinated, her own heat swelling and mouth turning dry. She was so curious, and for a second, she wanted to replace his hand with her own.

Something intense and swirling ignited in her gut when he locked into place, his hips now jerking in the air, his mouth wide open and back arched, heavy pants escaping and blowing across her face.

She quickly closed her eyes when his back hit the soft bed with a long sigh, wiping his hands down the side of the bed.

But she felt good as his arms tangled her up in an embrace, wrapping her legs tighter around him and brushing her fingers through the spattering of hair on his chest.

Maybe she could trust him, filthy fucker he was, he'd not made a move, not taken advantage, not shot her in the operating room. And with a slight smile, she fell back asleep.