Poker Face

Chapter 29 - Love Marks

When Negan awoke, the sun had set and he and Aven lay backwards on his bed in the dark. She was still wrapped snugly in his arms, her slow, steady breaths hot on his neck. He looked at the clock to see it was only 8:30; they had been asleep for almost six hours, still exhausted first from a long night with the Alexandrians and then from their afternoon together.

Negan tried not to wake Aven as he slid out from under her but she stirred and grunted in protest. He took her in his arms and shifted to his knees to lay her down the right way on the bed before pulling the blanket over her naked body. He was about to stand up when he caught a glimpse in a stream of moonlight of an odd shape on her neck. Forgetting his attempt not to bother her, he leaned over her to the side table and turned on the lamp.

"Fuck me," Aven cursed, throwing her arm over her eyes to shield from the light.

"Already did," he retorted with a grin. "And you got the mark to fucking prove it."

"What are you talking about?" she asked groggily.

"Holy shit, you look like you got attacked by a fuckin' shark!" he laughed leaning in to examine her neck. As she woke more fully it clicked in her mind what he was talking about.

"If you fucked up my neck-" Aven said pushing herself out of bed and running to the bathroom doorway, freezing when she saw herself in the mirror with a huge, round, deep purple and blue bite mark in the crook of her neck. "Oh, fuck me," she breathed poking at it to gauge the bruising pain.

"Like I said, I already-"

"Oh, fuck you!" she spat, more embarrassed than angry. "Did you do this on purpose?"

"Well I didn't expect it to come out so fuckin' well but yes," he said smugly, pulling on a pair of boxers and sitting down on the bed, taking ample time to stare at her bare ass while she was distracted in the mirror.

"I need a scarf or something," she muttered, still examining the bruise and quickly coming not to mind it so much, save for the obvious location. "Hide this shit better next time." She turned and caught him staring at her and scowled at him playfully.

"You don't get to tell me what to do," he sneered.

"Only when it's a brilliant idea, right?" she said standing in front of where he sat on the bed and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"That's called advising, not ordering," he drawled, wrapping his arms around her waist

"Managing," she sang, referring to their conversation earlier that day.

"Just what the fuck makes you think you're my manager?" he asked incredulously, grabbing her ass tauntingly.

"I'd say the job I've done so far could be considered management," she replied.

"How do you figure?"

"Well I got the situation with Daryl in the woods under control after you decided to threaten him, I stopped you from running dick-first into that outpost and burning to death, I kept you from killing someone unnecessarily with a much more effective tactic, and I noticed all the things about the Alexandrians that you couldn't while you were doing your little horror show," she finished with a sneer. "Not to mention I knew Sherry was five-hundred percent untrustworthy before you did."

"First of all, don't think I didn't see the look on your face during my 'little horror show,' as you fucking call it," he began. "And what did you do, write that list in your fucking notebook to hold it over my head?"

"Didn't need to write it down but I will absolutely hold it over your head," she replied, sticking her tongue out at him. She pulled away to crawl back onto the bed and groaned as she lifted each leg. "Fuck, my legs hurt."