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“Ah … I can’t — I can’t do it,” Negan says, head turning to look into Carl’s eye. “It’s like talkin’ to a birthday present. You gotta take that crap off your face; I wanna see what Grandma got me.”
Carl wrinkles his nose, eye narrowing from under his hat.
“No.”
The little retard had, in true teenager fashion, gone a little overboard. Did something impulsive, and dangerous, and didn’t have his dad to hide behind. Not here.
“Two men!” Negan bellows, taking a note of satisfaction over the twitch in Carl’s face at that. He’s scared, but he doesn’t want to show it. “Two. Men. Punishment. You really wanna piss me off?”
Carl lowers his gaze, taking a few beats before removing his hat. He hadn’t averted his glare when he’d been spread out against the gravel, with two of Negan’s men dead by his hand. No, Carl looked at him with a hatred he found developed, especially for a kid his age.
Normally, he would have strung up the fucker that did some dumb shit like that, and hauled their ass back to their community. Then, he’d make a show of what happens to rebels — but he likes Carl. He wants to thread his spool through him, tie him up tight with his needle, just to slice him back open again.
Just like a patchwork plush. All Negan has to do is choose what fabric to use.
Carl unwraps the bandage from around his head, once, twice, until the gauze falls free from his eye with a sickening squelch.
“Get that hair outta your face. Lemme see,” Negan croons, his chest unfurling with a warm hunger.
He brushes the fringe out of the way, frown trembling with discomfort. He stares up at Negan; he knows he’s being appraised. His eye socket, rimmed with burning scars, is like an abyss. It reaches out to him, calling him closer and closer and closer, like a payphone ringing on an empty street.
Negan isn’t going to hurt Carl. He doesn’t want to hurt him; he wants to poke and prod him, give him a big kick over the edge. He wants to use him, wants to teach him a lesson on why not to fuck with Negan. He has ideas, too. Lots of ideas.
“Can I touch it? You gotta lemme touch it,” Negan says, raising his hand towards Carl. It’s a threat.
Carl ducks his head, shoulders trembling. Oh, shit, is he crying?
Man, this day just keeps getting better. He needs to save his tears, though, ‘cause he’s gonna be spilling a lot more of them soon.
“Quit your sniffling,” Negan says. “You got balls of steel. Act like it.”
Carl rubs his eye with the back of his hand, lip threatening to split under the force of his canine. His hair’s fallen back into his face. Negan distantly thinks he looks more like a teenage girl than a guy; one who cuts her wrists, pinches her stomach in the mirror.
Maybe it’s the dichotomy of that and his gaping eye socket that’s got Negan in such a tizzy. It looks so wrong on him, with his long hair and upturned nose. Defiled.
“Touching my eye,” Carl says, shakily. “Is that my punishment?”
“Nah. I mean, I’m gonna do that anyway, but no.”
“Okay. Then what is it?”
“Eager, aren’t we? Well, I got all those wives in here, and I was gonna get a good suck from one of them… but now I gotta deal with you,” Negan says. He shrugs at Carl.
Carl flares his nostrils, looking like the gears are turning in his head. Maybe he doesn’t get it.
“You’ll take their place. Then we’ll be even.”
He makes a disgusted face at Negan, wide-eyed with all the color drained from him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“I… I’m not doing that,” Carl says, barely louder than a whisper.
“It’s that, or I bash your old man’s brains in. Your choice.”
“That’s not really giving me a choice.”
“Well, you got two options, which is double what I usually give. Count yourself amongst the lucky.”
“Lucky would be you bleeding into the dirt with a bullet between your eyes.”
“Wow,” Negan laughs. “You’re a little savage, aren’t you?”
Carl doesn’t respond, instead radiating heat and anger.
“You killed two of my men after hitching a ride in a — honestly — valiant attempt on my life. Anyone else, they’d already have their head smashed all over the gravel, but I like you,” Negan says, resting his chin against his fist.
“You’re sick,” Carl bristles, body shaking from either fury, or distress. Maybe both. Negan’s definitely into it being both.
“Right. Well, I’m still sitting here, dick dry as the Sahara. Clock’s ticking, Carl, and Lucille’s hungry.”
Carl’s hands shake in his lap, fingers twisted into the fabric of his jeans. Probably imagining it’s Negan’s neck, which is alright with him. It tends to be better the more hatred there is. He gets to his feet, shuffling to in front of Negan, and sinks to his knees. He’s decidedly not looking at Negan or his crotch, mouth pursed tight in a frown.
“Look, I like you, kid, but I’m not doing everything for you. You’re missin’ an eye, but you got two functional hands.”
Carl’s teeth flash with a snarl and he takes a loud, deep breath before roughly grabbing the button of Negan’s jeans, pushing it through. The pull of the zipper cuts through the thick air.
Negan raises his hips enough to let Carl pull his pants down. No underwear, of course. He’s not that hard, but it still feels relieving to have his dick free.
Carl stops, frown laced with concern. He puts a reluctant hand to Negan’s cock, not really doing anything besides keeping it there.
“Fuck are you waiting for?”
“Nothing.”
Negan grabs him under the chin, freezing him in place. He looks like a scruffed animal, eye frantically searching Negan’s face.
“You’re starting to get on my nerves,” he says, digging his nails into Carl’s jaw.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Carl hisses, fingers curling around the base of his dick. Negan can feel his pulse, the thump of blood jittery and fast.
“You can’t be serious. You never watched porn, had the talk? The fuck is Rick doing?”
“No,” he says quietly.
“Okay, well, the rough and gritty of it is that you open your mouth, my dick goes inside. Pretty simple. Oh, and if you bite, Rick and you are gonna be tomorrow’s art exhibition,” Negan says, turning Carl’s face. He squeezes his fingers against Carl’s jaw. “You ever been kissed before?”
Carl shakes his head, almost hesitatingly, strained against the hold.
Negan meets his face with his, pressing his lips against the plush of Carl’s. He wants more, though, but Carl’s not moving at all, mouth tight and breath leaving his nose ragged. Negan bites his lip, hard, metallic blood spilling out of it and into his teeth.
Carl whimpers, mouth opening with it. His grip around Negan tightens, and god damn, he’s gonna have fun with him. Negan licks up his teeth, breaking away with a peck to his lips and a pat to his cheek.
Negan didn’t know it was possible for Carl to look even more upset, but he does. Blood trickles down from his lip against the smear of it on his chin. He already looks abused; he really, really can’t wait for how Carl’s gonna look after.
He pulls Carl back towards his crotch, threading his fingers in the hair against the back of his skull. Carl takes a wracking breath before taking Negan in his mouth. He slowly slips down farther and farther, pushed on by the hand in his hair. He makes a choked noise somewhere halfway down, so Negan forces him lower, knowing Carl has no fucking clue what he’s doing.
Negan guides his head back up, and then down, the wet heat of Carl’s mouth getting him harder by the second. The way his lips are wrapped around his dick is obscene. He traces over the freckles on his cheeks, his nose, until he finds the scarred skin around his eye, leading him to the socket.
He won’t fuck with it yet. He runs his fingers over it, instead, daring Carl to stop him.
He doesn’t. Fast learner, this one.
“Use your hand, smarty pants,” Negan says, flicking at the fingers sitting motionless around his dick.
He does, immediately, using it to better work Negan’s cock into his cute, tight, little mouth. So, so hot. He wishes he had a camera with him. He could print out a neat little photo that Rick could hang up by his mirror to remind him of how much of a failure he is.
Carl’s teeth scrape along the top of his dick and he yanks his head back and off it completely, a trail of spit still connecting him to it. He glares at Negan.
“No teeth, kid,” he tuts, giving him a mocking frown.
Carl doesn’t say anything in return, still holding Negan’s eyes with his own.
“Scoot your ass back,” Negan says, nudging his knees with his feet.
Carl complies, still sitting on his legs, still glaring. He needs to lighten up. Negan stands, towering over him more than he usually does; the kid is small.
He grabs Carl’s cheek in his hand, pressing the other one — the one under his empty socket — into his dick. The warmth of his skin bleeds into the pads of his fingers, Carl’s exhales rustling his pubic hair.
Just a quick size comparison. It probably won’t fit. That won’t stop him, later.
“You’re a pedophile freak,” Carl says, venomous and all spitfire.
“Time for you to shut up again,” Negan says brightly, and shoves his dick into Carl’s mouth. He’s in complete control now. He was before, but Carl doesn’t get any agency this way.
Carl sputters, bracing his hands against Negan’s thighs. Negan tightens the knots he has tied up in his hair, ignoring the groan bubbling up the back of Carl’s throat. All that accomplished was sending nice vibrations through his cock; not that Carl actually is aware that feels good.
He fucks into Carl’s mouth, holding his face in place, and a bit lost in the sauce. The sauce being the velvet of Carl’s cheeks, wet and Jesus Christ, how can a mouth be so tight?
Maybe it has something to do with him not being fully developed. Whatever, he’s cute.
Carl whimpers again, eye wrenched shut.
Aw, man. Forget cute, he’s adorable.
Negan pushes in as far as can, tip of his dick hitting the back of his throat. Carl coughs, nails scratching into his thighs now, trying to get himself free.
He won’t let him. He does it again, very pleased with himself when a tear beads up on Carl’s eyelashes, dripping down his cheekbone and into his hair.
“Open that eye.”
He doesn’t. He whines, lips too full of cock to vocalize his refusal.
Alright, they’ll do it the hard way. Negan pinches Carl’s nose, not relenting on his thrusts. He’ll need air sometime. Carl wriggles in his grasp, eye fluttering open when he realizes he’s not getting away. Immovable object, meet unstoppable force.
A part of him wishes that Rick was here, forced to watch his son’s face get fucked and used by ‘the enemy’; the other part of him doesn’t want to be interrupted by the complete breakdown that it would draw out of Rick. Maybe Carl, too, judging by the tears streaming down his face.
Negan lets go of his nose to squeeze his freckled cheek. “You’re doing so good, kid.”
There’s that hatred again; bright and burning in the blue. He looks tired, but not broken. That’s alright. There’s still plenty of time for that.
He’s a pretty picture, though, with the crying and spit dribbling out the corner of his mouth. He’ll be writing home about that. Maybe he should have dragged Carl back to Alexandria and done this in the middle of the street so everyone can see how great Rick’s son is at getting his face fucked.
Carl’s tongue holds the weight of his dick, trying to stop Negan from hitting the back of his throat again. He’s gonna have to try way harder than that. Negan does it again just to prove it to him. Carl makes a choked noise, looking up at him with an eye full of tears.
Negan takes pity on him and slides him off his dick. Carl wheezes, nose sniffling and bottom lip coated with blood. Guess his lip split again.
“You’re pretty alright at this,” he says, wiping the streak of tears from his cheek, boring into Carl’s face. “Though, you’re a tiny, little thing. I’m gonna guess I’m not the first one that had this idea.”
“You’re wrong,” Carl says, low and hollow.
“Aw, he speaks!”
“I’m gonna kill you.”
“Just like your old man. You two can suck and fuck each other over my body. ‘Til then, I’m the one that’s got you here,” he says, pressing the side of Carl’s face to his dick again.
Carl’s upper lip curls back, eye narrowed at Negan, unwavering.
“Funny thing about that, actually,” he continues, resisting the urge to plant a kiss on Carl’s cute little nose. “My boys thought you were Rick’s little thing, ‘til they got closer and realized you’re a boy. I mean, you still totally could be — I won’t judge — but, you don’t seem the type. Should cut your hair, though.”
“You’re disgusting,” Carl spits.
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it yet,” he says, thumb tapping against Carl’s cheekbone, dick still cradled in the boyish fat of his face. “Kiss it.”
Carl doesn’t, looking up at him from under his lashes and mouth twisted in a pouting frown. His chest is heaving, moving his body with every panting breath.
“You’re supposed to be smart,” Negan reminds him.
He closes his eye, seemingly steeling himself before pressing his lips to the side of Negan’s cock. When he opens it again, he’s looking in the exact opposite direction. Shame looks so good on him.
“That’s a good boy.”
Carl’s face reddens. Oh, boy. Fun, fun, fun.
Negan sits on his haunches, tilting his head to try and catch Carl’s gaze. “You are a good boy. Your daddy might not know how much of one you are, but I do.”
“Okay.”
Hey, he’s not hurling insults now, so that’s a win.
“I should keep you here, lock and key,” Negan murmurs, lifting Carl’s chin. “Ain’t nobody gonna get you, then.”
“Why?” Carl asks, peering into his face.
“‘Cause I like you. Why else?”
“I dunno.”
“Nah, you do. You listen well. I should put a bell on you. Would you like that?“
He shakes his head, resting it in Negan’s palm.
“What d’you want, then?”
“I wanna go home.”
“Ooh, I can’t do that. Not yet. We got one more thing to take care of, then I’ll cart your ass back to daddy, alright?” Negan says, dick twitching at just the thought of it.
“What?” Carl asks, brow furrowing at him standing back up again.
Negan holds his face in his hands, resting his dick underneath Carl’s empty socket. He is going to remember this moment for a long, long time. Carl’s breath catches, eye wide with fear.
“No, you — you can’t,” Carl pleads, panicked, trying to twist out of his hands, voice scratched and raw. Like music.
“Oh, I can. I really can,” he says, planting a kiss on Carl's forehead.
Negan pushes in, slowly, Carl’s whine ringing through his ears. It’s hot, like the heat of inflamed skin, searing with sickness and ichor. The socket is wide but shallow; he can’t get too far in, but there’s enough pressure at the edges for him to get off.
Carl’s eye is wet with tears again. He’s still whining, low and interrupted by uneven breathing, like he can’t control it.
He prods the flesh in the back, hot liquid spreading over his cock. Nature’s lube.
“Hand,” Negan says.
Carl’s fingers find his dick, slender and wrapping around like a serviette ring.
“Stop,” he moans, blood snaking down his arm. “Please.”
Negan fucks into his hand, his socket, ignoring the cries escaping Carl’s lips. Well, not ignoring them, just getting off on them.
“You’re doing so good,” Negan says, watching the blood drip off his dick and onto Carl’s cheek. This side of his face is covered in it, dark and a mirror reflection of the gore it came from. He loves how it looks, all of it; Carl’s young, innocent face, marred and ruined by him.
Carl’s bangs fall back in front of his face, hair brushing over his dick, hiding it. It’s like he’s disappearing into Carl’s socket. He whimpers again and Negan knows he’s close. He’s definitely going to fill his little hole up.
His hand joins Carl’s, squeezing with more force, more pressure, and that cozy warmth pools in his groin, grabbing and hugging him in it. He lets himself go, coming into Carl’s eye over the sound of his crying. Hot release at Carl’s expense; he’s really outdone himself this time.
He takes it out, carefully, blood and semen mixed together and connects his dick to Carl’s socket like spiderwebs. Carl looks awful, crimson smeared all over his face, tears still slipping down his cheeks. His bangs are crusted with blood, too, obscuring the socket.
“Almost done now,” Negan chirps, scratching the top of Carl’s head. “Clean it, then you can go home.”
Carl sniffs, blinking more tears out of his eye. He flexes his fingers against his knees before licking a stripe over Negan’s blood-coated cock, nose wrinkling at the taste. Negan watches him with a fondness, kinda like when you look at a cute puppy. He pulls him up for a kiss when he’s done, tasting himself and Carl’s blood on his lips.
He smiles into Carl’s teeth, feeling his legs shake and the telltale sign that he’s dealing with a fucked up kid.
“Oh, shit. Are you hard?” Negan teases, hand inching into the front of Carl’s jeans. “You’re a little masochist.”
“Don’t touch me!” Carl’s teeth snap near Negan’s shoulder, a white flash of fury. Attractive, but annoying.
He hits the underside of Carl’s nose with his palm, like a gator getting punched in the snout. Carl’s head rocks back, him grabbing his nose and curling in on himself. He shouldn’t have done that; his nosebleed is on him.
Negan picks up where he left off, pushing him into the arm of the chair, squeezing Carl’s dick through his underwear, running his fingers along it. He kisses him again, teeth sinking into his lip. He licks over the grooves of each tooth, letting his tongue catch on the sharp canines.
“You’ve been such a good boy,” Negan says into his mouth. “Don’t ruin it now.”
Carl squirms, arching his back away from him, but he can’t escape. He’s thin, and petite, and the sooner he gets that in his head the easier his life will be.
“I’m gonna bring you home. Then I’m gonna fuck you in front of Rick, and we’ll have a big family dinner.”
Carl shivers, panting against Negan’s chin. Negan reaches into his underwear, using the friction of the jeans to better jerk him off.
“I’m gonna make you mine,” he says, grinning against Carl’s bloody lips.
“Haah,” Carl squeaks out, stomach spasming. He tucks his face into Negan’s neck, sinking his teeth in and spilling over Negan’s hand.
Negan wipes it on Carl’s shirt, pulling away from him and biting back a laugh at the mess that is still his face.
“Alright, punishment over,” he says, throwing himself back into the couch. “Clean that shit up before we go downstairs.”
Carl stands there, looking frazzled. “Am I going home now?”
“Yeah, soon. Just gotta do a few things ‘round here, then I’ll get your pretty head back.”
He doesn’t move.
“Fuck are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know where the bathroom is,” Carl mutters.
“Down the goddamn hall,” Negan says, throwing his thumb to the right. Carl frowns at him, but still leaves, boots clunking.
Stupid-ass kid. He’s got places to be, people to walk all over, and he just lost a chunk of his afternoon to getting his dick wet.
Hopefully it doesn’t become a pattern.