No Sanctuary For Old Men [18+] |Negan| ✔️ Complete

LXIX • Nostalgia

The Sanctuary was deserted by the time they went back inside, having seen everybody off. Negan took Daphne's wrist and broke into a brisk walk in the direction of the barracks. Excitement bubbled up inside of her at the feel of his hand on her, the sight of his lithe shirtless form leading her through their home.

When they entered the barracks she thought he would slow down, maybe bend her over a bed, but he continued to pull her along the rows. When they came out the other side it dawned on her what his mission was, and she giggled.

"What's fuckin' funny, strawberry?" Negan asked as they bustled into the women's showers.

"Just thinking about the last time you and I were here," she replied, pulling out of his grasp to hop up onto the counter. "You came to collect me, waiting patiently outside while I finished making myself come over you, so you could give me this." She lifted her leg and planted her foot on the counter, revealing black lace panties and an elegantly scripted N on her inner thigh.

His eyes were hooded as he stalked towards her, taking his bottom lip between his teeth at his mark on her creamy skin. He raked his eyes up her body to rest on her steely blue eyes, and she drew in a sharp breath as he ran his thumb over the letter. His name.

"You took it like a fuckin' champ," he purred, reaching behind her with his other hand to unzip the back of the little dress. "And also like a fuckin' tease." He ghosted his lips down her throat, and she spread her legs farther, arching into him. He held her thigh still with his hand, pulling the shoulder of the dress down and kissing behind it.

"I wanted to get your attention," Daphne moaned as he pulled the fabric down over her breasts.

"Oh, you got my fuckin' attention, strawberry," he replied, amusement rippling through his voice. "If there's one thing you're good at, it's getting my fucking attention." As if to accentuate his point, he pulled her hips to the edge of the counter, crushing his erection against her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing her fingernails down his chest as she hissed. He bit down on her shoulder and she quickly unzipped his pants, letting them fall to the floor.

He shoved the rest of her dress down over her hips and then jerked her from the counter so he could push it fully down her legs, taking her panties with it. Once she was completely exposed, she leapt up onto him, and he swung her around towards the showers.

He slammed her into the cold tile wall and she shrieked at the feeling of ice on her hot skin. Their mouths crashed together, teeth clacking in their eagerness as Negan fumbled for a faucet. He managed to get one going and water blasted him in the side of the head, soaking them both.

They paid it no mind as he grasped the back of her throat, one hand under her ass to steady her as he plunged into her in a swift movement, her wet pussy engulfing him. They moaned in unison, the feeling of connectedness overwhelming them both in that moment, rocking against each other like their lives depended on it.

Daphne claimed his lips desperately, feeding him her mewls of pleasure as he drove into her, swallowing his grunts in return. She clawed at the back of his head, shoulders, back, scrabbling for purchase as a crescendo built inside of her. His movements became erratic quickly, and he pistoned her against the wall, freezing as she fell over the edge, the two of them groaning their release into one another's mouths.

Negan languidly kissed her as he gently lifted her from his cock, setting her down on shaky feet. Her knees gave out and he caught her around the waist, brushing her slicked hair from her forehead to stare down at her.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered, voice thick and betraying the tightness in her chest.

For the first time in his life, Negan didn't know what to say. He didn't have a snarky comment, no smirking egotistical guffaw, nothing.

Instead he turned her around and washed her hair.

Daphne marveled at the fact that she didn't get to clean herself for so long, and now this was her second shower in one day. The last one had been to cleanse her of the filth of being a prisoner; this one was to cleanse her of the death of her captors. With each expert stroke of Negan's fingers, he washed away the stress, the vengeance, the anger, the fear. They were together, they were alive. Their people were safe.

She slid around in his arms when he was done, and glided soapy hands over his chest and then back. She ran her fingers over each ridge of his body, each scar, each delicious dip and curve. He was a beautiful man—her beautiful King.

When they were clean, Daphne took his hand and led the way this time, up all the flights of stairs to his bedroom. She skirted the blood and exited to the balcony, letting go of him to climb the ladder. She glanced down at him and he smirked up at her, enjoying the view of her naked form above him in such a position.

When he climbed up behind her, he smiled at the sight of his pad in one piece.

"This is the one place that wasn't defiled by those pigs," she explained, and he practically tackled her to the pool table.

She laughed as she hit the green velvet, his body pinning hers, and he propped himself up on his elbow to stare down at her with something in his eyes she didn't recognize.

"Be my fuckin' Queen," he breathed, and she swallowed hard before her lips parted around a ragged breath.

"What?" She blinked at him, and he reached down to position his cock at her entrance, fully erect once again.

He sank into her with ease. "Be my...fucking...Queen." Negan growled with each thrust, and she clenched around him, reaching up to clutch his shoulders as he pounded into her, deep and slow. This pace was different than she was used to with him, the tantalizing pull and then slam causing a storm to build inside of her.

He reached down and circled her clit with his thumb, and she came apart, arching her back and shrieking in pleasure as he coaxed the orgasm out of her with his talented body. When she fell limp he kissed her throat, pulling her so that she was straddling him, the two of them sitting up and wrapped around each other.

Daphne was reminded of the day in the radio tower, wrapped in each other in the afterglow of their lovemaking, his amber eyes flashing intense emotion that he never was able to vocalize. She pulled back and stared into him, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck and pressing their foreheads together.

"I've always been your Queen," she whispered. "I always will be."

Negan groaned at her words and claimed her lips, lowering her back down to the table, speeding up his thrusts until they were so violent their mouths couldn't hold on to one another any longer. He watched her throw her head back and forth, sweat springing to her skin, blonde hair still wet from the shower and splayed across the green table.

When she arched, pressing her soft tits into his hard chest, he cried out his own orgasm, pounding it into her like a jackhammer. She wailed as it drew out hers, and took every slam he gave her, frozen against him as her muscles pulsed in euphoric glee.

When they collapsed against the table together, chests heaving, breathing ragged, he kissed her forehead sweetly and they shared a laugh at the absurdity of their nakedness on the roof in the middle of the day.