The Ruins Part 2 (Sequel to The Ruins)

Chapter 32

Negan had shifted his attention to his wives on releasing the sexual frustration and taking away the imagines of Negan taking advantage of Mal. Any time those women are begging as he pounded, what's his first thought- Mal. God, he couldn't get her off his mind. The last time he slept with Bethany, she'd been on her stomach and when he pulled out and painted the small of her back with his come, she swore she heard him mutter a small, "Oh, Mal." She hadn't said anything, but she didn't have to. Negan caught himself apparently; but he hadn't apologized.

Mal changed him and his friendship on her.

Sitting around the parlor with his wives, Negan's head flopped back against the couch. "Is there anymore wine, Danielle?"

"Yup. Bud knocked over a liquor store about a week ago." Without prompting, she brought Negan more wine.

"Something bothering you, Negan?" Amber said, coming over to massage Negan's shoulders.

He took a sip of the red wine - way too fucking bitter, but alcohol was alcohol - and sighed, long and loud. "Fuck," he mumbled, staring down pensively at his half empty glass. Negan twirled the delicate glass stem between his fingers carelessly, losing himself in thought for a moment. "It's nothing."

Over Negan's head, Catherine glanced up from her book from where she was curled up in her armchair. All it took was another sigh from Negan, and Delaney come over to rub on his leather-clad shoulders. Out of this he would of like this comfort, but wasn't in the mood for there release. They're like animals, and sometimes Negan will had enough of this shit.

Once Amber lowers her hand down to cup his crotch, he moves out of his chair, and stormed to his dorm.

Sometimes he just wants to get off, without any subterfuge or foreplay. This was the time when he lays back in the tub, unzips his pants, and goes to town. He'll spit into his rough palm for lubrication, before wrapping his long leather coated fingers around his thick cock and starting up the perfect rhythm. He didn't take off his gloves, since the feel of the cool, smooth leather is extremely erotic against his hard, pulsing dick. And the sight is so naughty and taboo, watching his leather-coated hand wrap around his cock and pump up and down, that it makes him throw back his head, eyes fluttering closed as he moans. It doesn't matter how many women he's slept with, or how often, none of them are able to give exactly the correct amount of speed and pressure that he can give himself. And imaging Mal in his mind drives him crazy. He'll reach down with his other hand and play with his balls, squeezing gently and causing his hips to rise up, thinking that she doing all the work on his dick, fucking his own slick hand until he comes all over himself with a groan.

After releasing, feeling a bit regretful of having Mal as his personal masturbation imagine. He use his fingers to scoop up the ropes of cum that have landed on his hand and shirt, and lick them clean.

The next day he finally hears for a long time of Mal's voice over the radio. He knew Alec gave her a private section between their radios, but Negan hacked it in and listened to them quietly. He laughed and smiled on how Mal hated the place towards Alec, explaining the suspects such as Hammer. He could see Hammer being involved.

But what made him sad was to hear Mal wanting to come back home. Did he have to push her away? He shoved it away, she needed to learn.

Later the evening, leaning over the railing to see his people marketing their supplies, sympathetically, Catherine tentatively broached the topic. "I'm not here for the sex."

He smiled. He liked Catherine, not because she has a great ass but she's simple, not too needy. "I see you're all moody. Is it about the KillGames?"

"Yes and no," Negan answered dully, and added with a hint of bitterness, "Everything with KillGames is just peachy-fucking-keen. This has to end for fuck sakes."