The bar was packed but that wasn't surprising. It was the only decent bar for miles. Bodies pressed close as people danced and drank and yelled. Music blared throughout the small bar causing the floor to shake to the beat. People were pressed against walls and tables. Kissing. Grabbing. Grinding. The neediness made Carl roll his eyes. He would never beg for a man the way girls did. The man would beg for him. That's how it's always been.
The bar was filled, people sitting on the bar stools and leaning against the counter in between each stool. Cups, bottles, and glasses covered the wooden top. Carl felt at home there. Surrounded by darkness and people who just want to tear him apart. People who would bet to slip between his legs and make their home there. Nights like this were when Carl felt best. The sick want of men twice his age made him feel pretty, prettier than any of the sluts who wore too tight dresses and too tall heels. He had to try. They didn't.
It was a silent competition between the girls at the bar and Carl. He would watch a girl grind and touch and beg for a man to want her and within seconds Carl would have that man begging for him. He always won. And he knew how. Just a shy bite of his lip and a bat of his lashes and the men were all over him. Clawing and grunting and wanting him. Girls hated Carl. He didn't mind, though. It wasn't his fault he could play and win the game.
On this night, Carl didn't plan on playing games. He wanted to have a man wrapped around his finger, gripping him so tight that the man left bruises. He wanted a man on his knees and worshipping Carl, begging for him to be all his and only his. Within seconds Carl had picked out the one he wanted.
It was a tall man, broad shoulders covered with a black leather jacket. His beard was growing back, black and grey, while his hair was slicked back and jet black. The man was nursing on a beer, playing with the glass bottle in his hand. He was leaning against the bar, talking to everyone that surrounded him. Within seconds the man was walking behind the bar and getting everyone their drinks.
Carl smiled. He had heard about this man. Negan. Girls whispered his name like it was a secret. They said he was good in bed. That he made their legs shake and their backs arch with just one finger and his voice. Whenever they talked about him their little panties got wet. Carl would be lying if the mention of him didn't make him the same way. Men liked that, though, when Carl got wet like all the girls.
Carl ran his fingers and pushed through the crowd of people, leaning against the bar. He pushed up on his toes and stuck his ass out, tapping his almost-too-long nails on the counter. "Sir." He called. "I'll have a beer."
Negan turned to him, a smile breaking out on his face. He handed a man a beer without breaking eye contact with Carl. "Sorry, kid. I haven't seen your dad. Maybe try the next bar."
Carl sunk his upper teeth into his lower lip, smirking. He reached out and scraped his nails along Negans neck. "Good thing I'm looking for my daddy."
"You're dangerous, kid." Negan was laughing. He picked up a class and started to wipe it clean, biting his lip. "You 15 or 16?"
"I'm however old you want me to be." Carl curled his fingers around Negans collar and pulled him down. "I'll have a beer, please."
"You sure as hell aren't old enough for a beer. How about some water, darling?" Negan pulled away from Carl, smiling. He picked up a glass and filled it with water, setting it down in front of Carl. "Feel free to tell all the other men its vodka. I won't tell." He winked.
Carl sighed. This man wasn't easy. "What if I don't want the other men. What if I want you?" Carl pulled him down again, this time he did it harder. Negans hands slammed on the counter in order to hold himself up. Carl kissed up his jaw then underneath his ear. "Only you."
