Poker Face

Chapter 70 - A Changed Man

Frankie wasn't sure how she felt about being back there again with him. She'd had at least some sort of connection with him. All the wives except Amber did, even Sherry who had struggled with her attraction to Negan since she still loved Dwight. The silence was unnerving; usually Negan had more to say, and Frankie couldn't help but feel a little bad for him, even though she resented him. She hated Aven but she knew she'd been taken hostage and that she was special to Negan.

"Is it her?" Frankie asked after a long silence, kneading her elbow against the back of his shoulder. Negan pulled away for a moment and turned to look at her, eyes empty.

"What?" he just barely grunted.

"I'm sure you'd be stressed anyway with what's been going on," she continued tentatively, "but something seems different. You don't seem like yourself."

"Well I'm still my fuckin' self," he retorted. "Not fuckin' going anywhere." He kept his voice calm and steady, but there were still violent waves of tense emotions lapping in his mind. Anger, dread, guilt, and to top it all, masturbating to the vivid thought of Aven only made him miss her more, only made him feel more like he needed her. It was a feeling akin to wanting what he couldn't have, because of course in that moment, he couldn't have her. Right up until the day he met her, he could expect sex at almost any given moment from one of his wives if he said the word. That idea went out the window when she entered his life, but things heated up quickly between them as he broke down Aven's barriers and he didn't end up waiting very long before falling back into a lifestyle of indulging his hunger whenever possible. But then she regressed into a sort of fearful, chaste state and not long after she was taken from him.

"Well that's good to hear," Frankie cooed, her tone an odd mixture of uneasiness and seduction. Part of Negan's charm, especially in the case of his wives, was his ability to make women want to please him. Because of that, seeing him so obviously down was uncomfortable for Frankie but she only had one thing to offer him in consolation. She hadn't necessarily expected him to want more than a massage from her, but she also didn't really think he'd want to stay with just one woman for much longer. She no longer held much of the minimal attraction she once felt for him, but there was still a small spark there. In the moment, she realized he may very well be expecting more but she was unsure what to do.

There was a small part of her (small, though bigger than she'd like to admit) that still wanted him in some way. When he let the wives go, Amber had Mark to go back to but Frankie didn't have another man she was involved with. There were plenty of Saviors who blatantly tried to get in her pants, but they were rude, demanding, and expectant, devoid of Negan's charm that made up for his overbearing presence. The thought crossed her mind that leaning into what she realized he might want was okay since he was still the only outlet she had for the time being. Even if there was a huge part of her that hated him.

Negan let out a gravely groan as she focused on the spot that seemed to be the center of his pain, and she lightened up to where she was barely putting any pressure.

"Too much?" she asked. She knew the answer, but asking was still a habit from her career before the fall of society. But since she knew the answer, she recited it at the same time he did.

"No, I'm not a fucking pussy," they both said. Negan let out a short, breathy chuckle and eyed her over his shoulder.

"If you know the fuckin' answer, why do you ask?"

"In case the answer changes," she replied. "Don't want you to be in pain."

"Really? I'd imagine you'd be up there on the list of people who want me dead," he thought aloud. She tensed, keeping her hands moving so he wouldn't notice, worried that Eugene may have told him about her and Amber trying to get his help in killing Negan and Aven, an idea they'd come up with in the wake of Tanya's death but quickly abandoned for fear of getting in trouble; Tanya got a tame death compared to what would happen to them if they were caught trying to poison Negan or his most prized possession.

"I don't want you dead," she said quietly.

"You know I hate being lied to." His tone, dry though vaguely playful, did not give away whether or not he knew and Frankie kept her tone steady.

"I don't want you dead," she repeated more confidently. She leaned to the side to catch his eye and examine his expression, which still made him seem unlike his normal self. He looked more sad than angry. She'd only ever seen brief glimpses of sadness in his eyes, never the full-blown, open expression of it. "She'll be okay," she said unsurely with badly masked bitterness. She hated Aven for killing Tanya and didn't really want her to survive. Negan tensed with annoyance at her tone and she squeezed his shoulder harder. "Don't tense. Your back was loosening up."

"Then don't talk about her," Negan growled. He just wanted the soreness in his muscles relieved and he couldn't achieve that if he was screaming at Frankie for her tone. She couldn't talk about Aven without sounding bitter, so it was better for both of them if she just did her job and left. She didn't talk again until she was done. As she fell silent, Negan closed his eyes and tried to forget her presence and imagine it was Aven's hands running over his bare skin. With that notion, it wasn't long before he started to get hard again.

"Done," Frankie said as she dropped her hands from his shoulders a few moments later. "How does it feel?"

"Better," Negan grunted, circling his shoulder to find that the sharp pain shooting up his neck was gone. "Thank you."

"Do, uh...do you need me to do anything else?" she asked awkwardly, eying the obvious tent in his flannel pants. "I...I could stay...if you need me to." Negan stayed facing away from her, his eyes glued to the floor, his jaw tight. There was a little voice in the back of his mind that said yes to her question, knowing exactly what she meant by 'anything else.' In fact, there was almost no part of him saying no. It was an easy decision and an easy fix. He had a problem and someone willing to take care of it, or so he told himself at first.

He turned at the hip to face Frankie who was still kneeling behind him and looked her in the eyes. She also didn't seem herself, he noticed, certainly not as enthusiastic about what she was offering as she had been in the past. His eyes trailed down to her lips which looked the same as always but somehow not as enticing. Almost robotically, he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, immediately disappointed by the way his fingers easily slipped through her sleek, straight hair, acutely accustomed to Aven's thick, wild curls. Before he could fuck himself over, he realized all at once what he was doing and pulled away, quickly getting to his feet and pulling his shirt back over his head.

"Get out," he ordered, his voice dark and gruff. It was a tone that effectively scared Frankie to the core and she complied, slipping off the bed and rushing to the front door. She lingered for a moment when an unsettling thought dawned on her that she couldn't push away.

"Negan, please don't tell her," Frankie called back to the bedroom. "She'll kill me." Negan appeared in the doorway, his glare a clear threat.

"There's nothing to fucking tell," he hissed. "Get the fuck out or I'll kill you my fucking self." Frankie was out the door without another breath.

Negan stalked back into his room, slamming the door behind him with all of his might, a furious half-growl, half-shout escaping his throat. He took a few long strides towards the bathroom before slamming his fist into the wall once and then two more times. The pain barely registered, his mind swirling with one thought: What the fuck did I just do?

Nothing, he reminded himself, I did nothing. Yet he was enraged with himself for even considering it, terrified at just the thought of doing something that could have lost him Aven. He hadn't even wanted Frankie but he went for her because he could. As always, he was ready to take just because he could. In his rush of guilt, it entirely escaped him that he'd just stopped himself from making the one mistake he made almost compulsively in the past. In the moment, he felt like the same piece of shit who cheated on Lucille with multiple women while she was dying. He swore up and down he wouldn't do that to Aven, and then he almost did without a second thought, while she was being held hostage nonetheless.

I won't be that man, he thought to himself. Not again.