ABCs of Negan

Q is for Quickie

You walked down the hallway towards Negan's office, a tray of food in your hands. Negan had requested that one of his wives bring him dinner from the kitchen, and you had hopped up first to do so, wanting to spend some quality time with the big, powerful man who you called your post-apocalypse husband. Reaching his door, you knocked softly, and were rewarded with a gruff, "Come in!"

Balancing the tray with one hand and turning the knob with the other, you walked into Negan's office. He was sitting at his desk, ledgers and other papers spread out in front of him. Sashaying into the room, you announced, "I brought your dinner."

He only glanced up at you quickly, his gaze taking in the tray, before he waved his arm and dismissively stated, "Just put it on one of the tables." He then turned his attention back to the papers on the desk.

Annoyed by his lack of interest, you gave a small huff and walked over to set the tray on a nearby end table. Turning around, you watched as Negan rubbed fingers against his temple, as if the numbers and pages were giving him a headache. Feeling bold, you walked across the room, around the desk, and stood behind him. You saw him visibly tense at your movements, as if he were about to order you away. Reaching up, you quickly placed your hands on his shoulders and started massaging. It was difficult, what with the leather jacket and scarf in the way, but you dug in as hard as you could, trying to loosen the tightened muscles.

You smiled when Negan let out a small groan, his shoulders relaxing underneath your hands. "Fuck, sweetheart. That feels amazing."

"It would feel even better without the jacket," you lightly replied.

Giving a chuckle, Negan taunted, "Doll, are you trying to get me fucking naked?"

Giggling in return, you teased, "Maybe...is it working?"

"Guess we'll fucking find out," Negan replied, before unzipping the front of his jacket and pulling it off his broad shoulders. He then unwrapped the red scarf from around his neck, which was surprisingly erotic to watch. The fabric revealed his muscular, tanned throat, and you could see the muscles in his biceps bunching through the thin, white t-shirt as he tossed the scarf across the room, where it landed on a nearby couch.

Placing your hands on his now more-accessible shoulders, you started massaging again, instantly causing another low moan from Negan's throat. After a couple minutes, he glanced over at the clock on the wall, giving a low curse. "Much as I'm enjoying this, I have a fucking meeting with my Saviors in ten fucking minutes."

"What a shame," you pouted, continuing to massage his warm, muscular flesh. "I was hoping that we could have a bit of fun, instead."

Standing up from the chair, Negan turned around and loomed over you, his eyes raking up and down your form. You looked at him as well, noticing the obvious bulge in the front of his pants. Apparently, he wasn't as immune to your presence as he tried to pretend. Biting your lower lip suggestively, you cooed, "Ten minutes, you say? Think that's enough time."

Smirking, Negan knew what you were getting at, but he instead played dumb and asked, "Enough time for what?"

"For you to make both of us come?" you replied, blinking innocently.

Negan's lips parted, showcasing his straight, white teeth as he gave a laugh. Turning, he grabbed the ledgers and papers, stacking them into a messy pile before tossing them onto the floor. His expression then got serious as he turned to you and ordered, "Take off your pants and shirt. Now."

Shivering in anticipation, you unbuttoned the shorts and pulled them quickly down your legs before lifting the t-shirt over your head. Since you had foregone a bra, this left you only in a pair of light pink, see-through panties. Negan had taken off his own shirt, leaving his muscular chest bare, save for his tattoos and the delicious frosting of salt-and-pepper chest hair. He looked down at you appreciatively before demanding, "Get on the fucking desk."

A jolt of arousal went up your spine at his deep, gravelly voice telling you what to do. Obeying instantly, you turned and hopped up on the desk, legs pressing together in excitement as you waited expectantly for your next order.

He traced one gloved finger down the top of your left thigh, causing goosebumps in its wake. He then reached down and started unbuckling his pants, before giving you the command, "Spread those pretty thighs, princess."

"Yes, sir," you whispered, causing his eyes to heat with lust.

Once again obeying, you parted your legs wide, knowing that he could obviously see the wet spot on the crotch of your thin panties. He growled as he took in the view, pushing his pants and briefs down to his ankles and exposing his already hard cock. Without further ado, he stepped up in between your thighs, used one finger to pull the crotch of your panties to the side, and lined his cock up with your entrance. Gazing up at him, you saw that he was glancing over at the clock again. "We've got seven minutes, sweetheart. So I hope that little pussy is prepared to come fast."

With that, he pushed inside you in one long, hard thrust. Crying out at the pleasurable intrusion, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips as he started up a quick and steady pace. His gloved hand wrapped lightly around your throat for a few thrusts, causing you to moan, before it trailed down over your chest. He pushed gently at your upper body, growling, "Lay back on the desk. Fuck, yes, just like that."

Spread out on the desk with your back against the polished dark wood, you looked up at Negan. The combined sight of the muscles in his bare chest flexing and his dick thrusting in and out of your body, which was still wearing the panties, served to heighten your arousal. When he ran his hand down over your stomach and through your pubic hair, you whined and lifted your hips. His gloved fingers expertly found your clit and set up a rhythm that he knew was guaranteed to make you shatter.

Tightening your thighs around his hips, you writhed on the desk, torso twisting and head tossing from side to side, as you wordlessly begged him to send you over the edge. He leaned down on the desk, his free hand supporting his torso as he hovered over you, his form blocking out everything else. Your gaze collided with his and held, while his cock and fingers continued to drive you up to the precipice of pleasure.

"Come on, princess. Come for me. Right now!" he growled.

Just like with every other command, you obeyed instantly. You let out a cry as your body reached its peak, seeing stars behind your closed lids and arching against the desk with pleasure. You heard Negan cry out, as well, as your clenching walls caused him to follow you over the edge. He shuddered and gasped above you, while you watched in awe as he came.

You barely had time to pull yourself together when Negan took a step back, pulling his softening dick out of you and reaching down to pull his pants back up. "Much as I'd love to stick around, I've got three fucking minutes, and I don't like to be late. Sends the wrong fucking message."

Nodding, you slid off the desk, tugging the crotch of your panties back into place and reaching for your jeans and t-shirt, while Negan grabbed his jacket and scarf. You tried unsuccessfully not to get distracted by the sight of him wrapping the soft fabric back around his neck before pulling on the jacket. How could he make the act of putting clothes on look so erotic?

When you were both decent, Negan grabbed Lucille and all but rushed you out of the room and into the hall. Giving your ass a playful smack, he turned to shut and lock the door. Remembering why you had come here in the first place, you giggled, "Sorry you didn't have time to eat dinner."

Smirking, Negan replied, "I already ate earlier."

Confused, you furrowed your brows and looked at him questioningly. "Then why did you ask for someone to bring you a tray?"

Hoisting Lucille up over his shoulder, Negan teased, "Because I knew that you'd be the first fucking one to rush and get me one. And I hoped that you would stick around, so that I could give you quick fuck."

You blushed at how accurate Negan's assumptions of you had been. Giving him a shy smile, you replied, "Well, you were right. Feel free to call me for a pre-meeting quickie at any time."

"Will do, doll. Will do," he chuckled, before walking away from you and down the hall. He twirled Lucille on his shoulder and whistled a tune as he went.