ELEANOR . NEGAN

101.

Golden rays shone down on the nature below and lit it up in a fiery green; flowers flowing under the warm breeze tinged with oncoming goosebumps. It ran along their skin like a sharp bite — catching them off guard as the hairs on their arms raised.

"I'm freezing my tits off."

"Your fault."

Eleanor didn't know how, she just knew it did.

Her legs were wrapped around Negan's hips, bruising if anything as she raked her nails down his bare back. He was only wearing a t-shirt because of the warm air so he shrugged it off as soon as he could. His lips were nipping at the softness of her jaw, hands cupping her breasts — urgency in his movements.

"Negan," She moaned, throwing her head back against the bark as his kisses grew more harsh. "Fuck."

Eleanor moved her hips helplessly for some sort of friction but it was useless — grinding messily against Negan's crotch as his hands got under her top. There was nothing stopping them.

Tree sex!

Except, it wasn't.

The more Negan bucked his hips upwards, the more the pleasure filled her body. She was a gasping mess in need of relief, but she wasn't going to get it because the more she got shocked on his own movements, the wider her eyes opened.

Shit.

"Negan." She said wistfully, her arms still around him. Lord help me. "Negan - shit..." He bucked his hips up again and caught her off guard, her eyes screwing shut as she slipped out another moan.

Okay, okay, okay.

This time, she pushed his chest back a bit and he instantly stopped. His dark hooded eyes soaking her in with a tinge of concern. "Doll?"

"Look," She gasped, trying to calm her beating heart from their prior activities. "Down the fucking road."

Negan rolled his head along his shoulders and stopped at the heap down the road. It was a heap of white — fucking white. A cluster of white armour that grovelled against the gravelly road.

"Is that...?"

"For fucks sake."

Negan let out a groan and gently dropped Eleanor down onto her feet. He was quick to grab his shirt back on while Eleanor was equally fast to pull out her knife. They didn't really need to communicate to each other because they were already rushing down the road faster than before.

And when they reached the heap, Eleanor wished she stayed back at the flats. There were three walkers, slashed throats, gunshot wounds in the softness between armour — strategic and calculated. "Leah," Elle yelled, kicking her foot into the ground. "Does she ever take a fucking break? Maybe not go all homicidal maniac on anyone she can get her grubby, slimy fingers on!"

Negan tried not to laugh.

Elle let out a furious squeak before she pushed forward and finished one, her knife plunging deep into its brain as Negan swung his crowbar against the other one. The last walker was just snarling yet no sound was being made. Elle just threw her knife at it.

"Negan," Shit shit shit. She turned around with urgency. The gun wounds were fresh — human blood still warm before it even turned. "Thats- that's fresh."

"Holy shit, Sunshine."

Elle nervously looked up. "We need to go back—"

"What?"

"Now."

Yeah, this wasn't good. These walkers were fresh — bodies killed in seconds with pure precision and sliced throats. She knew it was Leah, had to be Leah, and these walkers were heading down the path back to the flats. That wasn't fucking good either.