Beg for It | Kinktober Day 17 – Begging, Rough | The Walking Dead

Intro:

Negan was a man who thrived on control, and nothing got under his skin quite like watching you struggle against it. He loved the defiance in your eyes, the way your jaw set when you tried to hold back, and most of all, he loved the exact moment that defiance shattered into pure, helpless desperation.

The room in the Sanctuary was dimly lit by a single overhead bulb, casting harsh shadows across the worn wooden furniture. Negan had you pinned flat on your stomach against the edge of the heavy mattress, his broad, leather-clad chest pressing heavily down onto your back. One of his massive, calloused hands was buried deep in your hair, hauling your head back just enough so you were forced to stare at your own reflection in the dark windowpane, while his other hand gripped your waist with bruising force.

He hadn't even given you what you wanted yet. He’d stripped you down, exposed every bare inch of your skin to the cool air, and worked you up to a fever pitch with slow, cruel friction, brushing his knuckles over your sensitive skin, pressing himself hard against your thighs without slipping inside, and dragging out every second until you were practically shaking beneath him.

"Look at you," Negan chuckled low in his throat, a dark, raspy sound vibrating straight against your spine. He leaned down, his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear before biting down sharply on the sensitive curve of your shoulder, leaving a dark mark. "Shaking like a leaf, sweetheart. You think you're in charge here? You think you just get to take what you want without asking me real nice?"

He gave your hair a firm tug, forcing a sharp gasp out of your throat, and planted his knee firmly between your thighs, forcing your legs wider apart. He aligned the heavy head of his right against your entrance and pushed in just a fraction of an inch before stopping dead still.

The tease was agonizing. Every muscle in your body was coiled tight, practically vibrating with the need for him to just drive himself home and end the torture.

"Nuh-uh, don't you start wriggling," Negan warned playfully, his hand coming down hard against the meat of your cheek in a loud, stinging slap that left your skin burning and your hips twitching forward on instinct. "You know the rules by now. I don't move a single inch further until you say the magic words. You want this ? You want me to ruin you right now?"

He leaned all his weight into your back, resting his chin on your shoulder while his hand slid down to squeeze your hip, his thumb digging into your skin to hold you completely still against him.

"Then open that pretty mouth of yours and beg for it," Negan growled softly against your cheek, his dark eyes watching your reflection intently in the glass. "Tell me exactly how bad you need it. Make me hear it."

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