CONQUEST • Negan

Fool Me Once

"Ladies," Negan addressed the room. I didn't venture beyond the door, leaning into the frame. "Don't mind our guests."

The wives of Negan, uniformed in black mini dresses, jolted and dispersed to separate corners of their quarters, the relaxed energy of the space disturbed by the arrival of their husband. Some stared off distantly, frozen, as if their stillness could render them invisible to Negan's attention.

A minority of the wives greeted Negan with a loving, dreamy-eyed smile, as if their lord and saviour had returned. Maybe it was wrong, but I couldn't help but assume they might've been as mentally unwell as Kristina.

Willing wives, my ass. It was like a damn funeral reception in here; a mourning of freedom.

How could they not understand that they weren't wives, but dolls. Dressed up in pretty dresses, faces painted with lipstick and mascara, so they could be objectified by their husband and branded as an achievement to his masculinity. Nothing more than trophies, locked up in a gilded cage named security.

Maybe it was wrong to make judgement on them, maybe it made me a hypocrite, but were I standing in any of their shoes, I'd much rather go down fighting than allow Negan to claim ownership over me.

Negan leaned into Carl and I glared into the back of his head as he muttered something about 'titties'. Clicking my tongue, I huffed sharply at his crudeness.

Negan glanced back at me. "Don't be jealous," he chided.

"You're disgusting."

"If it makes you feel any better, I like to look at your titties too, Dice. In fact," he sauntered over to me and leaned in close to my ear so no one else heard him say, "Your breasts are my favourite. It's a damn shame you never let me feel 'em last time."

I scowled up at him, face twisting in repulsion, yet my stomach flipped, and thank god my weight was pressed into the wall, because the shock of my own reaction might've floored me otherwise.

"You've got serious issues, dude," I muttered to him. The words were directed more at myself.

"Nope," Negan said, and lifted a finger. "I only got one. You wanna know what it is?"

"Nah, not rea—"

"—It's that," he interrupted. "Despite this scorching chemistry between you and I, we still haven't, well y'know, had a roll in the hay," he spoke through the side of his mouth, as if this was some scandalous secret, when really, it was evidence of my persisting sanity, or however little of it remained. "What the hell is up with that, Dice? I feel like we are really wasting some good potential here. I mean, I'm really hot, you're really hot. I'm horny, and you? Well, you are definitely horny."

Thank fuck Carl was too far away to be able to hear any of this shit. The boy was traumatised enough.

"Why would you think I'm horny?" I batted my eyelashes up at Negan, a sharp grin sliced across my mouth.

"You think I'm blind, sweetheart? I see the way you watch me. I see it all. Been on this earth long enough to know when a gal has the hots for me, which, by the way, is pretty often. So the fact that I'm even offering ya' sex, considering how picky of a man I am, is a damn compliment. Not that I'm saying I'm out of your league or anything, but I do know how to make a woman grateful for my time."

I rolled my eyes. "And yet, you're the one begging to have sex with me. Again," I said. "It's getting pretty pathetic. When are you gonna catch a hint?"

He stared at me with a proud smirk. "You ain't denying it then. You want me, Dice."

"To shut the fuck up? Yes. Please God, yes. That's exactly what I want."