Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8764135.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Walking_Dead_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Carl_Grimes/Negan
  Character:
      Carl_Grimes, Negan
  Additional Tags:
      Mind_Games, Mindfuck, Aggression, Rimming, Anal_Fingering, Ass_Play,
      Dirty_Talk
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-05 Words: 2820
****** Down this long and winding road ******
by zeraparker
Summary
     Carl wants to play like the grown ups and Negan is having none of his
     shit. Set at some point in a future where Carl stays at the
     Sanctuary.
Notes
     I wrote this over the last week and weekend, so before 7x07 aired,
     and after watching it earlier tried to edit it in a way to fit the
     images we got from the inside of the Sanctuary, without having to
     rewrite the whole thing. Be gentle :P
     Also, with Negan I'm never sure what to tag, so if you feel there's
     an important tag missing, shoot me a comment and I'll add and edit!
     Thanks.
They've come a long way.
“You're late,” Carl says, the words are pressed through his gritted teeth.
Negan looks up from the map that's covering most of the couch table in the
middle of his room, raising his eyebrow when he sees Carl lingering in the
doorway, his shoulders set, arms crossed over his chest. He takes one step into
the room, the door swinging shut behind him.
“Excuse you?” Negan gets to his feet, shifting his weight from one foot to the
other. “Didn't your daddy teach you to knock?”
His jaw working, Carl stares at him, then untangles his arms and lifts his
right hand over his shoulder, rapping his knuckles against the metal door
behind himself.
Negan can't help his grin widening. “You cocky little shit.”
He takes a step away from the couch, hand automatically moving to wrap his
fingers around Lucille leaning only a couple inches away, picking her up and
swinging her back and forth as he saunters across the short distance towards
the door. With a swift movement he swings her up, grasp on the handle changing
to thump her against the metal right above Carl's left shoulder. To his credit,
Carl doesn't flinch, doesn't even blink.
“I'm not here for three days and you fucker start acting like the new king of
the castle. I should bash your head in.”
Carl tilts his head a fraction, his hair catching in the spikes of barbed wire
so close to his face. “Do it then.”
It's an empty goad. Carl knows that he won't do it, and so does Negan, ever
since Carl arrived in the back of that delivery truck like a present wrapped in
blood and anger and ripped half a handful of Negan's men apart with the quick
fire of a machine gun; and Negan let him live.
They've really come a long way.
Negan smirks, tapping the door with Lucille hard enough to make it rattle in
its hinges. “You're suicidal, but you're not stupid. Open your mouth and tell
me why you're here.”
But Carl doesn't really have to talk, it's all in the way his gaze flickers
down to Negan's mouth when he licks his lips, further down his body before
returning to stare at him squarely. “You know what I want.”
Negan smirks. “That wasn't what I asked.”
“You,” Carl says but his tone is back to biting, not giving any ground.
“You want my dick down your throat, again,” Negan prompts when Carl doesn't say
anything, but his eyelashes flutter at the words, so Negan takes another step
closer, crowds him against the door. “Say it.”
Worrying his lip between his teeth, Carl drops his head back against the door.
“Fuck me,” he says and it catches Negan off guard, for the first time in a
while. He laughs, covering the small lapse before he's got a grip on himself
again.
“You been spending too much time with my wives, boy?” he says and pushes
himself away from the door, taking two steps back until he reaches the back of
the low armchair, leans against the backrest to appreciate Carl from the
distance. “They put ideas into that fucked up messy head of yours?”
Carl just glowers at him from below his long fringe, his arms crossed over his
chest again. “Can't get it up, old man?” he taunts but there's no power behind
his words, not when the evidence of Negan's arousal is already bulking out the
front of his jeans, his splayed legs not hiding anything.
“Oh, I'm up, boy. But do you know what you're asking for? Go ahead, strip.”
The blink of hesitation before Carl's hands go up to the lapels of his over
shirt are enough to give Negan the upper hand.
“Don't bother with the shirts, just your pants. Let's not be too romantic about
the whole thing, right? That wasn't what you asked for after all.”
What's visible of Carl's cheeks below the bandage flushes at Negan's words, but
Carl goes along unfased, letting go of his shirt and fumbling with the belt
buckle of his baggy jeans instead.
“Now that's the kind of welcome home I enjoy,” Negan comments, watching as the
fabric is pushed down Carl's long legs, creamy pale thighs and bruised knees,
the moment of struggle when Carl has to bend down to untie the laces of his
boots tripping him up, just another crack in the facade of bravado and
aggression the youth had tried to display.
When Carl straightens up again, his face is red, the flush spreading down his
throat, but his eyes are still sparkling with challenge, his dick full and
heavy beneath the hem of his washed out shirts. Negan allows the hunger he's
feeling at the sight to show on his face, licks his lips only to see Carl's
eyelashes flutter again.
“Come here,” he orders, his voice tight, and Carl complies, stepping around the
pile of clothes on the floor. With how Negan is sitting back against the
armchair's backrest, they're almost eye level when Carl is stood bare inches in
front of him, his breathing already close to laboured.
“You have no idea the fuck you're asking for, right?” Negan says, his voice
low.
Carl stares, squints, and then swallows heavily before his gaze drops down to
Negan's crotch and Negan knows.
Carl can't suppress the yelp of surprise when Negan lurches forwards, grabs his
wrist and twists it behind Carl's back as he's turned around, and a moment
later Carl is struggling against Negan's grasp as he's bend over the back of
the armchair, pushed forwards so far that he's got his face crushed into one of
the throw pillows, entirely off balance. Then he moans as Negan pushes up
against him, rubbing his crotch against the bare flesh of Carl's arse that's on
display.
“Yeah, that's right. I'm just gonna spread your cheeks and tear you apart.”
Negan's voice is a heated whisper as every twist and wriggle of Carl's body
gives friction to his still clothed erection. With the hand that isn't busy
holding Carl down he gropes at his arse, his thumb parting Carl's cheeks in
search for that hot little hole, and Carl suddenly goes still, his whole body
strung tight as a bow as Negan strokes over the tight pucker with the pad of
his thumb. It would be so easy to just push in, to pry him open until he'd
scream, fuck him until his body was as much of a wreck as his mangled mind.
“You're gonna squeal for my like a pig.”
Grunting into the pillow, Carl turns his head. “Just fucking do it already,” he
spits out, twisting against the grasp Negan has on his arm, then flails as
Negan lets him go, taking a step back.
“You couldn't take it if you tried, boy,” he says casually as he steps around
the armchair to where his tumbler of whiskey is sitting next to the map he
studied earlier, tossing back a mouthful. “And you need some fucking manners
pounded into that broken skull of yours.”
By the time he turns back around, Carl has struggled to his feet, glowering at
him from under his fringe. “I take you any day,” he bites back, his cheeks
still flushed.
Negan cocks his eyebrow, licks his lips. “Really. You been fingering that
virgin ass thinking about my dick every night, kid?” He sets the glass back
down. “Is your ass burning for me so much?” He stretches, the kinks of the last
days slaughter having built up tight knots in his back. He flexes his hands,
the right one aching from the tight grip around Lucille, calloused despite the
leather gloves. His fingers drag over the leather of his jacket that he'd put
over the back of the couch earlier as he moves to the bed, swinging himself
onto it to scoot back and sit up against the headboard. “Why don't you show
me?”
Having tracked his way around the room with his eye, Carl glares at him mutely.
“Get your ass up here,” Negan shouts, his tone rising to a demanding order.
Carl flinches, but moves closer to the bed, his body radiating defiance with
every step he takes despite the delicious drops of precome that are getting the
head of his dick wet. Negan deliberately keeps his gaze fixed to it as Carl
clumsily climbs onto the bed, making to kneel across Negan's lap. Negan drags
his eyes up Carl's shirt to his face, holding his gaze for a long moment.
They're rarely this close, this quiet, and for a split second he wonders if
Carl will move in, steal a kiss in a bid for emotional connection that he's
been denied so far, but it never comes, and before Carl can really think about
it, Negan flicks his fingers painfully against Carl's cheek.
“Wrong direction, boy.”
Confused, Carl frowns until Negan grabs his hips, manhandling him around.
“Wasn't asking to see your pretty girl face,” he comments as he turns Carl to
face the foot of the bed, the windows that are nothing but bare, black holes in
the wall, no light from the yard outside reaching them this far up the tower,
twisting his body into the position he wants. One hand firmly around his hip
Negan rubs the other up the length of Carl's spine to the back of his neck,
holding it in a tight grip before he adds pressure, pushing forwards. Carl
grunts, resisting for a moment before he bends his spine.
“Now that's what I'm talking about.”
Kneeling above Negan's lap, ass in the air, Negan can't help himself, both his
hands palming at the creamy flesh of Carl's ass, drawing a chocked whimper out
of the boy. He must have showered recently, no trace of the last days battles
still on his skin, not the stench of death and decay that's still lingering all
around Negan and now mixing with the sweet heavy scent of arousal. He massages
as the round muscles, feeling Carl twitch, and then leans in, setting his teeth
into that delicious meat, biting and sucking until the skin is bruised and Carl
is writhing back against his mouth for more.
“You're the sluttiest little virgin I ever met, I should just hole you up with
the rest of my wives,” Negan says, his voice low with arousal as he tightens
his grip on Carl's ass cheeks and draws them apart, eliciting a needy whine
from the boy. He drags the stubble of his beard across his ass as he speaks,
hot breath preceding his lips and Carl shudders from head to toe. “I'll train
you until your ass is as wet and ready for me as any of their cunts, just
waiting to be fucked whenever I fucking want to.” He extends his tongue,
licking up a wide stripe across Carl's hole and then sucks at the rim of it,
and that's it, Carl sobs out a humiliated sound as he comes all over the grubby
front of Negan's jeans, pearly white stripes of spunk over the dark material of
his jeans.
“Oh aren't you just sweet,” Negan drawls out, planting another wet kiss against
Carl's tight ass before he flicks the back of his thighs with his fingers hard,
making the boy yelp and startle forwards. “You messy little shit and I didn't
even pry you open yet.”
Carl grunts, panting hotly where he's got his face pressed against Negan's
shins, reduced entirely to needy noises and still pushing back into Negan's
grasp even as he's rewarded with another stinging flick against his sensitive
skin. “Please.”
“That's right, that's the kind of manners I expect from a good boy like you.
See, you are learning. Let's see what else we can teach you tonight,” Negan
coos and leans to the side, retrieving a bottle of lube from the bedside
drawer.
The sound Carl makes when Negan pushes the tip of his finger inside makes
Negan's dick throb hotly within the confines of his still clothed cock. Negan
can't help flexing his hips at the hot, tight heat that's enveloping his
finger, drawing him in, and he lets his free hand drop to his own crotch,
giving himself a squeeze before he pops the button on his jeans and draws down
the zipper.
“Hot fucking hell, you feel good, kid,” he groans out, unable to hold back and
then pushes his finger in further, only barely giving Carl time to adjust,
enjoying every keen and quiver he draws from the boy as he starts working his
finger in and out of him in a mock display of fucking. “When I'm done playing
with you, you'll be slack enough that I could fuck you with Lucille and you'd
still ask for more, you greedy little bitch.”
Moaning loudly, Carl rolls his spine, pushing himself back onto Negan's finger
roughly. “Yes,” he whines and spreads his legs a little wider, grunting when
Negan dribbles more lube down his crack, sliding around his hole and down to
trickle over his balls. He rubs the knuckle of his middle finger through it and
then lines it up next to his index finger and pushes both of them into Carl on
the next thrust.
“You're like a fucking bitch in heat for me. Maybe I should just tie you up
bend over so all the guys can have a go, see if they can satisfy that filthy
ass of yours. Maybe take a picture and give it to your dad next time I pay him
a visit.”
Carl shudders again, jerking violently back against the invading fingers with a
desperate whimper.
“What, you don't like that? I bet he'd love to hear from you, after all you
could be dead. Maybe he can even go on a run for me, find you a present.” Negan
muses, slowing the movement of his fingers to twist them around Carl's ass,
searching for his sweet spot, focussing on it the moment Carl twitches as he
finds it. “Go make him find me a nice big fake cock to plug up your greedy hole
with whenever I'm not around so you don't miss me.”
With another sob, Carl lets out a strangled noise that could be any kind of
plea, but he's moving back into Negan's touch, his ass fluttering around the
intruding fingers, pliant enough for Negan to add another.
“Rick really should be proud of the grade A slut he bred me,” Negan says and
Carl comes again, the shudder that's wrecking his body enough to make him lose
his balance, draining him as his legs slide apart and he sprawls across Negan's
lap, his hips twitching for friction against Negan's jeans clad thighs.
“Oh boy, you've got so much more to learn,” Negan grits out as he pulls his
fingers free from Carl's body, shoving him forwards off his legs so he can
kneel behind him. He plants his hand next to Carl's shoulder, leaning over him
as his other hand, fingers still slick from the lube he used on the boy delves
into his jeans, pulling his cock free and giving himself a tight squeeze
against the spike of arousal.
“You've got no idea the fire you're playing with,” he grunts out, his fist
jerking his cock tightly, his eyes roaming up and down the partly exposed back
of Carl beneath him, his naked ass glistening with the remnants of the lube,
and the bite he left their earlier purpling the creamy skin. “I'm gonna scald
you, I'm gonna fucking burn you to ashes,” he says hoarsely and a moment later
he's coming, spilling his seed over Carl's back, thick drops of it onto the top
of his ass and the rucked up fabrics of his shirts. His palm is sticky with it
and he wipes it on Carl's shirt, on his long tangled hair as he's catching his
breath still lingering above him.
With great effort,he pushes himself away, rolls onto his back next to the
fucked out youth. He closes his eyes, the strain of the last days catching up
on him, and he's tired, exhausted.
“I'm gonna go have a shower,” Negan announces blindly to the ceiling. “And if
you're still in this room by the time I come back, so God help me I'll fuck
your ass up until you can't walk, less alone know your own name, you got me,
you little shit?” He can feel the mattress shifting beside him and a grunt that
could be a yes, but he's too tired to care. Pushing himself up to stand feels
like the greatest effort and he doesn't spare a glance at the bed as he pulls
his jeans up far enough to walk the short distance to the bathroom, closing the
door behind himself.
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