CONQUEST • Negan

Torment

(WARNING: Sexual Content—NEGANS DOWN BAD (This is my first time writing a smut scene, so be kind lol)

NEGAN

God give me strength.

Like the total fucking creeper she thought I was, I lingered by Dice's door, rallying against the urge to step up and knock. It cost me even more strength not to just kick the fucking door in, eliminating the single barrier between us.

The awareness of her on the other side, probably reading one of those filthy fucking books... God, my self-control was wavering, and it didn't fucking help that someone (me) had the bright idea to house her in the room across from mine.

This no-contact bullshit had been going on for four fucking days now and it was driving me nuts. Clear lines drawn, I'd honor her boundaries since I owed her some space, at the very least. Especially if I wanted our friendship to become something real. But damn, resisting temptation was really testing my resolve. That little minx had me twisted in knots, yearning yet restrained. Self-control never felt so fucking agonizing; it wasn't a trait I practiced often and considering who the fuck I am and the power I fucking held, self-control shouldn't be something a guy like me had to excercise.

The kicker: Dice probably hadn't thought about me once. Not unless reminded of how much she hated my fucking guts. I don't know why, but that thought ached my chest. I despised it. This was weakness.

Dice was my fucking weakness, and I had zero intention, although it definitely wasn't wise, to snip away my bane. Again, I was fucking terrible at self-control, it wasn't something I tended to practice. But for her, this week, I had. If only so she might hate me a little less.

Shit, I fucking missed her. I missed her like fucking air. How the fuck does shit like that happen when I've only known Blondie for a fortnight? The brain was wild.

Was it wrong to wish for x-ray eyes? I wanted to see through this fucking door and catch my first glimpse of her face in days. That's all I wanted. I just wanted to see her face. Nothing weird or perverted, which was even weirder, since I was naturally pretty weird and perverted. I wore that fucking shit like a medal of honour and with some damn pride. But for her, for Dice, I didn't want to be seen as some weird and perverted asshole. I wanted to be more.

The closeness she shared with that whitetrash fucking hillbilly; that's what I wanted. Yes, I'm aware I was only digging myself into a deeper hole by keeping him locked up as my slave. But that ballsy bastard was tough as shit, and I was desperate to break him down, and mold him into the perfect Saviour. If all my men owned even a spark of the same tenacity as Daryl, even a speck of his nerve, shit, we'd rule fucking world.

I had considered freeing him. Only once. I thought it would help me win Dice's favour, but this blinding, jealous rage rose up in me, and won dominance over my better sense.

Dice preferred Daryl over me. I mean, obviously she fucking did, she had fucking shared a home with him, a life. Even if they weren't together, as she so claimed, they shared something special. It was obvious from a mile off. The way their minds linked into one, fighting for the other's freedom, tooth and nail back in Alexandria after Dice offered the exchange. Even now, I see that same fucking fire that burns in Dice, smoldering in Daryl's eyes. Whatever it was that flamed between them, it was something I wanted to steal for myself and keep.