Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8902255.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Walking_Dead_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Carl_Grimes/Negan
  Character:
      Carl_Grimes, Negan_(Walking_Dead)
  Additional Tags:
      Smut, Sex_with_a_hint_of_feelings, Canon-compliant/Non-au, Banter,
      Oneshot
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-19 Words: 1621
****** gotta be compatible, takes me to my limits ******
by problematic_pleasures
Summary
     anon said:
     Prompt!! Negan usually takes charge when it comes to sex but he
     decides to be a bigger asshole than he usual is and wants Carl to
     ride him. After a few nerves Carl gets to it and it turns out that
     that freaking cowboy hat really does him justice, if you know what i
     mean
Notes
     pretty much precisely what nonny prompted. not beta'd, all mistakes
     are mine. hope you like it!
See the end of the work for more notes
“You what?” Carl is flushed, indignant, not quite glaring at Negan but instead
has his gaze focused on the floor. His hair falls around his face like a
curtain; he shifts uneasily from foot to foot and Negan’s eyes can’t help but
be drawn to the bulge in front of the kid’s jeans.
“I want you,” Negan points a single finger at Carl, “to ride my cock like the
adorable little cowboy you are!” Negan laughs, loud and obnoxious, only
partially for show. “C’mon now, you’d look so pretty bouncin’ in my lap,
wouldn’t you?”
Carl scowls but his knees buckle—something not missed by Negan.
“That’s it, c’mere. Strip down and climb aboard.” Negan, already shirtless,
makes quick work of his own jeans and underwear. He kicks them aside and lays
in his full naked glory on his bed. His dick is already rock hard, and he
strokes it leisurely. He watches Carl watching him: watches the way Carl licks
his lips and the way his knees buckle once more.
Without another word Carl starts to wrestle with his clothes; belt, jeans,
underpants, and socks come off in the blink of an eye. Negan chuckles again and
catches the sheriff’s hat once it’s tossed at him. He holds it while Carl
strips out of his last few garments (two ratty shirts, to be precise).
Slowly, whole body shaking, Carl clambers onto the bed and crawls up the length
of Negan’s body. He settles across Negan’s thighs with a shiver; his hands
press into the rippling muscles of Negan’s stomach for support, and he looks at
Negan from under his soft, brown bangs.
“Good boy,” Negan taunts quietly. He brings the hat back to Carl’s head,
pausing only to push some of the kid’s hair back and reveal his face. Once the
hat is in place and Carl’s fucked up eye is on display, Negan whistles.
“Lookin’ good,” he says as his fingertips eagerly skirt across Carl’s body.
“Did you get all nice n’ready for me, just like I asked?”
Another scowl is his answer, before Carl grabs one of his hands and yanks it
toward his ass. Negan complies easily as he seeks out Carl’s hole, humming
happily when he finds the skin slick, stretched, ready and waiting for his
cock.
“Good boy,” he says again, reveling in the blush that bleeds over Carl’s skin.
“Alright then,” he slaps Carl’s ass once, “what’re you waitin’ for?”
Carl bites at his lower lip and swallows his nerves. His hands press into
Negan’s chest as he lifts himself up, lines himself up; Negan helps and takes
his own prick by the base, holding it steady and watching, reverent, as Carl
sinks onto his girth. Carl’s whole body quakes around him, and his delicate
pink lips pop open in an ‘o’ shape, a long drawn out gasp tumbling out. Negan
grins, watching until the sight of his dick filling Carl is obscured by the boy
being seated entirely in his lap.
“Fuck,” Carl’s gasp snags Negan’s attention.
He rubs at the base of Carl’s spine with on hand, toys with one of the kid’s
nipples with the other. “You alright?”
Carl nods frantically. “Yes,” he grits out.
Negan raises an eyebrow, impressed and amused and a touch concerned. “Take your
time, cowboy, ain’t no rush. Hell, I could stay like this all day n’be pleased
as god damn punch.”
Carl’s body slowly starts to relax and eventually he lets out a shuddering
breath. “This.. It’s different.”
Negan laughs again. “Sure is, kid, but god you are taking it like a fuckin’
champ.”
Visibly, Carl preens, even if Negan knows he’d never admit it. “What do I—what
do I do?” He asks.
Negan’s hands fall to Car’s hips and grab tight, gently pushing him up. “Up
n’down, up n’down. It’s like ridin’ a bicycle, kid.”
Carl rolls his good eye but obeys. Nails digging into Negan’s chest, Carl
levers himself up slowly, then slips back down. The rhythm is timid, careful,
but the wet heat encasing Negan’s dick is so good there’s no way in hell he’d
complain. Carl whimpers as he rises again, mouth dropping open with a shudder.
As he sits again, his hands shift. He slides his grip to Negan’s shoulders and
clings.
Negan makes to speak—maybe tease the kid, or even give him some
encouragement—but Carl’s next move knocks the wind right out of his lungs. In
an instant, Carl sets up a nearly brutal pace, rising and falling with ease and
grace and wanton moans. Negan’s whole gaze narrows to Carl bouncing in his lap,
the feeling of Carl’s sweet little body around him, the sounds of Carl’s
delicious noises. Negan’s lungs burn and he can’t think straight enough to suck
in more air, can’t do more than lay back and surrender to the onslaught of
Carl’s body.
“This what you wanted, old man?” Carl asks, breaking the slew of their moans.
Negan cracks open one eye to meet Carl’s gaze. There’s something almost amusing
about the blush on his skin mingling with the stark look of determination, all
topped off by the ratty old sheriff’s hat. Were it anyone else in his lap,
Negan would probably have a field day teasing them relentlessly… but it’s not
anyone else—it’s Carl, delectable and sharp and oh so good.
“Did I lose you?” Carl pinches the skin at the juncture of Negan’s neck and
shoulder.
In response, Negan bucks his hips up and throws off the rhythm. “Feel like you
lost me?” He barks back. He rolls his hips now, pleased when Carl meets him
thrust for thrust.
Carl’s face twists angrily, tight, but a moan rumbles in his throat and belies
his true feelings. His hips move faster, reckless and with abandon; he moans
each time Negan’s cock fills him to the hilt, sighs each time he’s left empty
for a few moments too long.
“Look at you,” Negan murmurs. “Fuckin’ loving this, aren’t you? Sure know how
to ride a dick, boy.”  He reaches up and thumbs the edge of the sheriff hat,
tilting the brim back. “Do this thing justice, huh?” He opens his mouth for
another taunt even as his orgasm coils in his gut, but Carl cuts him off.
Carl pushes forward, hat tumbling off in the process, and slams their lips
together. He kisses Negan hard, bites at his lower lip and tugs. It’s messy and
sloppy and Negan takes it all with a groan. He cups the back of Carl’s head and
holds him close; he eases the kiss into something just as hungry and desperate,
but softer and gentler. He laps at the seam of Carl’s lips and drowns in the
taste of Carl’s teeth and tongue.
He sucks on Carl’s tongue once, a lewd and spit-slick gesture, and swallows the
answering keen that billows from Carl’s throat. Negan keeps thrusts even as
Carl’s body goes slack with his release, come spilling onto Negan’s stomach and
mixing with the sweat coating his skin. Negan keeps fucking him, keeps kissing
him until Carl rears back and hisses, “c’mon, c’mon, do it.”
The words are hushed, angry but soft, they hit Negan’s lips like a gust from a
storm and just like that he’s swept away. His body goes tense, rigid, toes
curling in the plus sheets of their bed as he comes. He bucks his hips up and
thrusts as deep as he can into his younger lover, come pulsing from his cock
and into Carl’s body.
His lustful euphoria fades slowly, soothed by fingertips scraping against his
beard. “Mm, what’s gotten into you?” He asks, pleased when Carl’s touches don’t
stop. Negan opens his eyes in time to see Carl shrug, looking bashful but
annoyed. Negan’s own hands move just as carefully across Carl’s body, a
mirrored movement, as though they are each soaking the other in. “S’nice,”
Negan mumbles just as sleep starts to tug at him.
That rouses a laugh from Carl. “You’re such an old man,” he scoffs. His hands
finally leave Negan’s face and he peels himself away from the bed. Negan
watches as Carl walks away, ass slick with lube and come, whole body shining
with sweat.
Negan relaxes back while Carl slips into the adjoined bathroom. “Yet you keep
coming back,” he replies.
There’s no answer for a while, not until Carl comes back into the room cleaned
up and with a pair of too-big pajama pants hanging on his bruised hips. Carl
rolls his eyes again but doesn’t stray from his course—he walks right back to
the bed, climbs in again and settles beside Negan. “Yeah, I do.” Carl’s voice
is brittle but not unkind.
Negan watches as the kid seems to zone out; so many layers to such a young man,
like a fucking puzzle piece or endless line of nesting dolls. Whether it’s age,
lack of maturity, or just who the kid is at his core, Negan isn’t quite
certain—all he knows is that Carl can’t seem to make up his mind. Happy to be
here, or pissed as fuck. Upset by what’s happening, or loving every god damn
minute of it. Hot then cold, one second to the next, to the point that it
exhausts Negan, wears thin on his patience.
He doesn’t comment on it, though. Not yet. Instead, Negan just wipes his
stomach off haphazardly with a corner of the blanket, then raises his arm in
invitation. Carl takes the invite without hesitation; he slips closer to Negan,
tucks against his side and makes himself comfortable. Carl doesn’t speak,
either, and falls asleep within moments, leaving Negan to admire him until he,
too, dozes off.
End Notes
     marked underage bc carl can be interpreted as 17, or older if you
     prefer.
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